#thundercracker x reader

☆ They'd knocked you out for three days to make sure the new bones took, you knew. You'd been warned ahead of time, after all, what all this would entail, a long line of explanations and papers and charts. The obligatory talk on how taking them out was a whole lot harder than getting them in. You waved it all away. What did you care? There was no one in your life to judge you but yourself.

Hurt like a bitch, though. Waves of aching pain that never went away, just alternated between persistently on your mind and tooth-gritting sharpness. And this was after it had settled. You wondered for a moment what it would have felt like fresh on the table, but shove the thought away with a repulsed shudder. The present agony was enough, thank you very much.

And it was a nice way to avoid the thought of pulling up the forums and seeing what the other were saying about you.

It would be bad, you thought foggily, the words pulled into order after hours of painful half-consciousness. It would be Bad, when you finally crawled back. Everyone knew each other, in the little circle you'd found yourself so much a part of, there were too few of you for it to be any other way. You did not look forward to dealing with the consequences of your actions.

Luckily for you, consequences still lived somewhere behind the pain and numbing fog in your blood that made it bearable. Sometimes you ate. Sometimes a nurse moved your limbs about, took your blood pressure, fussed with the IV bag keeping you hydrated. But aside from these momentary interruptions, time slid by like a mud-thicked river, calm and unaware of the storm.

♡ He finished his morning rations, the half cube hitting his tanks with the nagging discomfort of still being hungry. Mechs were going to start fighting if this went on much longer, he knew, spurred on by the irritation of starvation. He was feeling it himself, even. A nagging anger caused only by the dull, constant pinging from his fuel systems, the ache in the center of his chassis as if his frame thought the barrage of fueling reminders wasn't enough. His wings twitched and he invented deep, trying for perfect calm.

He didn't even have it the worst, he knew. He hadn't been spending his time flying patrols and leading drills. His energon had stayed largely in reserve. He couldn't imagine how much worse it must be for the troops that ran ground work. And with the mindless brutes already predisposed to ill-considered violence and loss of composure, it was surely only a matter of time before petty squabbles became all out brawls that only served to further drain their rapidly dwindling resources.

He was getting a helmache.

Filing the list of issues away as firmly Not His Problem, he rose to his pedes and opened the most recent message from Starscream- a blanket ping that alerted every Seeker in the armada of their tasks for the day. He scrolled through the list, locating the T names and finding, with no small amount of displeasure, that he was on babysitting duty. Again. It was starting to nag at him. Like Starscream didn't think he was good enough to do real work, to handle proper responsibility. Even though he was Starscream's second-in-command...

It was going to drive him mad if he lingered on it, he knew, so again he just tried to force it all down and get on with his work. At least it would give him time to work, he mused as he wove through the Seekers still lingering over their miserable meal, launching himself through the nearest window and winging around the ugly building Megatron had made into their base. It was turning out remarkably well, better than he'd imagined it would, the words slowly building up in his processor as the planning concluded and the composing began in earnest. A proper love story, about Seeker soldiers building a flock even in the ice of Europa, finding each other again after the surge of staggered pardonings that had torn them apart. He was even considering letting Skywarp look.

Triggerhappy was already wrestling Daybreaker to the ground when he arrived, Red Wing watching uncertainly from under Slugslinger's twitching white wing. He landed by the would-be sharpshooter, making a point to not stare at his jolting wingspan or spasming hands. "Slugslinger. What happened to him?" He nodded to where Red Wing crouched, looking up at him with glassy eyes.

"Blackout was an hour late coming home this morning." Slugslinger's words made Red Wing's entire frame shudder, tucking himself against the ground, face hidden against his arms. "After Yellow Wing, I guess he just doesn't do well with that." A soft keen at the name and Thundercracker fought back a sigh, just making a note to speak with Slugslinger about tact later before going to settle on Red Wing's other side.

With little else to do, he turned his focus to his masterpiece. He had enough to publish now, just to get a feel for the reception. And maybe to show off a bit.

☆ "Alright, aaaand you're done! That's the last check you need." Your doctor wrote something else down on her paperwork, leaving you to stretch your sore hands. They had a layer of fur now too, like you were wearing gloves, and even though they would ache for another month, you could use them somewhat efficiently. You flexed, letting your new claws flick into view, catching the light. You'd gone with the metal ones. Easier to set into bone than new cartilage.

You didn't pay much attention to the next little bit, a familiar routine of signed papers and explanations. Three types of medication. A bill you didn't bother to check the numbers of. And then a trip home.

Your home is sparkling clean, not a speck of dust anywhere. The fridge is stocked full again, wrapped meals in little trays. There is no one here. Empty and cold as always. Your tail lashes, an itching irritation skittering up the ladder of your spine. You decided to not put it off anymore. Heading to your bedroom, you faced the music.

Your computer flickers to life when you pass your hand over the projector, opening on the last thing you'd been staring at. The forum page. You refresh it with a sour expression, watching as the notification bell went from serene to a red mark labeled "40+" that made you sigh. May as well bite the bullet and get it over with.

The list of people who'd tagged you directly went on and on and on, the earliest coming less than an hour after your mysery Cybertronian deleting everything he'd ever made, a furious accusation. Most seemed to be against you. Blaming you, calling you a spineless bully, screenshots of your comments passed back and forth. The few who defended you had the sense to bring their own receipts; the other guy wasn't innocent either. You'd been taking pot shots at each other, they wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't turned coward!

But even if he wasn't terribly good and clearly didn't understand human beings, he'd been a steady presence in the tiny group of fans you had to exist in. He was consistent, prolific, and had been unfailingly polite to everyone but you, responding to comments with the formality of a business email. There was already a new page activity pinned to the top of the forum lobby, a collection of the deleted works that had been saved by others. If nothing else, you thought sullenly, they should be thanking you for giving you something to talk about. The place hadn't felt so populated in eons.

Even so, this was going to tank your presence here, you knew. They'd never forgive you. Your writing would go unread and unremarked upon, your comments would be ignored, and your name would be dragged through the mud until it was unrecognizable. In a larger group, maybe you could have changed your name and reintegrated yourself, but in such small numbers? They'd recognize your writing style immediately.

... unless you could the robot on your side.

It was a shaky plan, but it might just be enough to work. If you could get him to say that the nuke wasn't your fault, then they'd lay off and everything would go back to normal. Assuming you could even get him to answer a message, that is... You figured it wouldn't hurt to try, opening his page to find that something new was published, fascinatingly different from the rest of the junk he'd taken out. You clicked it instead. Your begging for mercy could wait.

These three are such bullies when it comes to you, Thundercracker not so much, but still takes the chance when he has it. The other two don’t ever wait, bothering you when they want. Luckily for you, it’s slightly easier to step away if needed as they bother you one at a time.

Skywarp has no shame saying anything that comes to his processor, especially that he doesn’t have to worry about your trine coming after his aft. Will not leave you alone until he can get some reaction, even then it’s a small chance he’ll let you be. Pointing out the smallest sound you make or energon flooding your face plate.

Starscream is very similar to Skywarp, the main exception is he’s not as loud about these thoughts. Still won’t let you get past him without teasing you, running his digits over your wings or any sensitive area on your frame.

Thundercracker isn’t as bad as the other two, won’t let everyone around know how your frame is reacting. He will softly glide his servos over your frame, light and slow enough you don’t notice until he’s holding your waist. (The other two are jealous at how smooth he is)

It’s not often all three corner you but it does happen, and when it does everyone knows to steer clear of their (and yours now) shared habsuite. Most Decepticons don’t want to hear you moaning your spark out.

You’ll leave that room covered in marks, scratches from Skywarp across your frame though they’re mostly on your hips and thighs. Bite marks from all three but a lot of them are from Starscream, loves leaving them over your chassis and neck cables. Thundercracker doesn’t leave as many marks, at least not as many visible ones. His bite marks are in the most hidden areas, just under your wings, on your digits, wrists. Anywhere he can get where the others will think of.

And that’s only what the others see after you four interfaced.

They miss how the trine never let you go a klik without smothering you in their combined EM fields, overwhelming your senses while they claim you.

It’s no wonder these three are a trine, you find out how well they work together, especially when they have a shared goal they’ll do anything to get to.

They all have their favourite positions and such, rarely getting in the way of another.

Starscream surprises you when it’s revealed he prefers to be spiked, don’t get him wrong though, he’s still in control and makes sure you know that. Making you see Primus with how he rides your spike, pulling overload after overload from you until you’re practically begging him to slow down. And you’ve been so good for him, so he’ll grant you this.

It doesn’t feel like a break as he’ll ride your face until you overload again and venting enough for you both.

While Skywarp frags you from behind, rough servos pull you against him, his spike already pressurized and pressing against your valve. Digits digging into the sensitive mechanisms of your wings, trying to wring out every sound he can from you. It’s not that surprising he’s vocal, letting out rough grunts and taunts whenever he can. And I hope you’re prepared as this mech will overstimulate and edge you, letting your charge build and build to its limit. Then he’ll stop, even as you whine or beg he doesn’t let you move, waiting until it simmers into nothing before he starts again. And only after so many times does he let you finally overload, barely giving you a klik to relax before he’s going again. This time he doesn’t stop, wanting to see how many he can pull from you and if you can beat last time.

Is such a bully with his warping ability, uses it when you’re focused on someone else. Just appears on your otherside when he digs a digit into your sensitive mesh.

Thundercracker has a surprising sadistic streak, though not on the same level as the other two. He’s more than happy to watch the others have their way with you, throwing in a comment here and there but otherwise won’t help you. Takes full advantage when he’s involved. Using his strength to pin you onto the berth, whether it’s your arms or wings, making sure you’re helpless to Starscream's commands or Skywarps’s onslaught. There's something about watching you struggle and beg, something so intoxicating to him.

He’ll whisper the filthiest things into your audials, sometimes the others will hear him, sometimes they won’t and have to beg for him to tell them. He only does after you’re all cleaned up. He details how good you look being used by his trine, how you were made for them, and if he could keep you in their berth, to never go onto the battlefield again, he would.

His words send your processor reeling as he’s still thrusting into you, a punishing rhythm that makes your whole frame shudder, and you swear he’s hitting your forge everytime.

By the end he’s made sure you’re a mess, valve dripping with their fluids, your spike leaking even after Starsceam drained you, your frame shaking from all your overloads before he’s satisfied.

• Clearing his vents and shrugging when you lift your eyebrows at him, he gestures with the datapad. “Okay, so I need this guy to do something. But it’s something he wouldn’t do. Something out of character,” he mutters, getting distracted when you reach up and touch his servos, lazily playing with his hand. ‘So he needs a damn good kick in the pants to motivate him?’ You say and he almost laughs. ‘You could always kill off another minor character that he was attached to. That’s a good motivator, especially if it was because of something he didn’t do or could have prevented.’

• Trying to not laugh at the look of horror on his face, you tug at one of his servos. “You know they’re not real, right? Sometimes you have to kill off your imaginary friends for the sake of the plot,” you say and he looks like you just kicked his puppy. ‘I know that,’ he mutters. But It’s obvious that he doesn’t like the idea. “Okay, okay. Maybe use the threat of killing a character off? Someone’s in mortal danger and only your guy can save them?” You try and his frown deepens as he stares at his datapad. ‘That might work,’ he mutters.

• “No, because then I can’t use the other character in act three,” he murmurs, smiling crookedly when you laugh. “No, see, I’ve got this whole tragic backstory for them. He’s really the main character’s long lost brother and shares the same rare, magic ability with him, so together they finally overcome evil and-” Faltering at the look on your face, he huffs through his vents. “What?” He asks and you are laughing at him now.

• Keeping his head down, Thundercracker vents softly. Doesn’t want to get involved, but he knows Star well enough to know the other mech won’t back down. That he can’t help himself. “You’re not eating your food,” he murmurs. “Do you want something else?” And your expression softens when you look up at him, forcing a smile. Hates the tension stretching between you and Star. Leaves him anxious and needing to help even though he doesn’t want to get in the middle.

• Inhaling slowly as you look at him not Star, you make yourself smile at Thundercracker. “No, it’s fine,” you mumble, fidgeting with the paper bag. Hating that he hurt you when you knew you were so different from them. Knew despite the similarities, the differences were greater. Had thought they saw you as a person, not a thing to play with until they get bored, though. And what then? When they decide you’re no longer fun, will they just abandon you on the side of the road somewhere to find your own way?

• Taking a bitter satisfaction in watching you ignore Star, Skywarp hesitates when he notices your expression. Wings flicking, he knows it’s not his problem. You’re upset with Star, not him. So why does it bother him? Groaning as he lets his head fall back, he walks over and sprawls on the berth to curl an arm around you and drag you closer. Pressing his face against you, he vents. “Ignore him, he’ll die before he admits he fragged up.”

• Wings flaring angrily, Starscream’s jaw works as he stares at Skywarp pressing his face against you. Again. Meeting your eyes, the hurt in them echoes through him to make his spark ache, but then you’re turning away. Ignoring him. Staring at you as you murmur something to Skywarp too low to catch, your hand is on the other Seeker’s head. Why is he bad guy when he was just trying to keep you from getting hurt? Turning to glare at Thundercracker, the other mech pointedly avoids his optics. Taking Skywarp’s side. Why can’t anyone ever be on his side? Why is he always alone?

Previous

If you see more typos than normal, no you don’t 🤣 I forgot Nashville bars don’t play and there was more vodka in my breakfast booze than anticipated. It doesn’t help that there’s another bar selling boozy slushies right beside my gate and I’m here way too early

• Disgruntled as he frowns at you, Starscream stretches out on his side and carefully separates the sparklings. Relaxing as he listens to their warbling, he offers his son a servo and smiles when the little seeker mouths at his hand, peds kicking. And his daughter is crawling shakily up to press her face against the mesh of his neck with a chirp. Feeling her wiggle as close as possible to his warmth, his spark aches. Had never imagined he’d have this. That his trine would take a shared conjunx. Have sparklings.

• Mouthing your neck, Skywarp vents when you lazily reach back to push his face away. Tucking you closer, he uses his peds to push himself and you away from Thundercracker and the other mech rumbles softly, optics barely opening to watch him. “Go to sleep,” you groan as his hands go wandering, squeezing and cupping warm skin. Unable to get over how soft you are. That you’re theirs. ‘Cybertronians don’t sleep,’ he mutters, denta gripping your shoulder as he tries to get a hand under your clothes and you groan his name.

• Pushing upright to lean and find your pillows, Thundercracker grabs your thigh to pull you away from Warp, shoving pillows between you and the other seeker as you laugh. “Behave,” he growls, staring down Skywarp as the other mech flops dramatically on his back, an arm across his face. ‘Hey, some of us take our part in saving the Cybertronian race seriously,’ Skywarp mutters as you keep laughing and Starscream reaches back without looking and almost smacks him in the face, trying to shush them all.

• Relaxing into your blankets again, you snort when you feel Skywarp pulling your blanket his way. Hearing him and Thundercracker growling at each other in Cybertronian before Star hisses something at them and one of the sparklings starts mewling hungrily. Hiding your face in a pillow as Thundercracker mutters that he has it and gets up to fix their energon, Skywarp immediately starts dragging you back toward his frame, tossing the pillows out of the way to reach you as he wraps his arms around you.

• Rumbling as he keeps making the face that you’ve used against him so many times, he knows you’re going to agree. That you’re as susceptible to your human warfare as he is. Maybe if he made the sad noises Buster makes that would give you the final nudge you need? Trying it, he has to fight the urge to grin when you mutter under your breath. “Okay. Okay,” you grumble. Just like that? ‘I can go?’ He asks.

• Throwing up your hands in exasperation, you make a face. Because really, it’s not like anyone could stop him if he’s really determined to drop in on your college classes. And at least with him there, you won’t feel like everyone is staring at you since you’re a bit older than your classmates. Giant, alien robot has to beat adult learner in terms of gossip potential. “Sure,” you mutter and you suck in a breath when he mass shifts, grabs you around the waist, and spins you around.

• Grinning as you hang there staring at him, he pulls you in closer, venting to pull your familiar scent deep. “Am I being too clingy? You can tell me if I am. If you’d rather have class time be time away from me,” he says, immediately feeling guilty and you reach up to cup his cheek in your hand. ‘I love our time together. There’s just a possibility that you’re going to give my professor a stroke. The man is seriously ancient,’ you say, smiling.

• “I thought you didn’t really like this human?” He asks and you wrinkle your nose. ‘I don’t, but he is still a human being,’ you mutter with a shrug and his head nudges yours, the warm air from his venting fanning over you. Face tipping up, your mouth slides against his and when he growls, it rumbles through you. ‘Now, my chem professor? I’m not sure he’s human, because nobody delights that much in calling a student out for an incorrect answer. Him you can scare.’

• Hearing him rumbling, your head lifts. Because he’s just frowning seriously down at you, wings lifted aggressively. And he’s turning away when you meet his optics, growling irritably. “Everything okay?” You ask and he looks back at you, plating ruffling. ‘No,’ he snarls, voice gruffer than normal. Did you do something to upset him? Can’t think of anything you might have done, though. “Can I help?”

• You’re not Cybertronian and he’s not human, but would it really be so obscene to spend his rut inside you? It’s not like he’s xenophobic and he likes you. Considers you a friend. And he’s hurting to get some relief when he knows his own hand will just leave him more frustrated and needy. Growling as he mass shifts, his wings flare out. Showing off as his biolights cycle. Because once he decided on you, there’s no going back. “Yeah,” he growls, easing down on his knees straddling you and your scent shifts to make him groan, his spike nearly releasing immediately.

• “I’m hurting. You’re needing,” he growls as his biolights keep cycling to draw your eye distractingly to his modesty plating. “We could help each other out.” Is he talking about what you hope he’s talking about? Flustered as he slowly eases back to sit in a crouch, he vents. “I’ll beg if that’s what you need,” he adds on a growl, mouth opening and you sit up to press a palm over his lips. “Don’t tell me no,” he says, the words muffled as his lips brush against your hand. Heart racing as you study his handsome face, you have no idea what prompted this, but it’s not like you haven’t been fantasizing about him.

• “Okay,” you whisper and he growls, easing back to sit and dragging you on top of him. ‘So I don’t hurt you by accident,’ he murmurs, though really he wants you to ride him. To claim him as yours. Prefers to watch. To touch. Spike releasing to pressurize, his hips lift slightly. ‘Be as rough as you want, just let me overload inside you,’ he adds, hating the desperate hunger in his own voice. But he needs this. Knows it’s the only thing that will take the edge off of his rut. And you’re obviously flustered, staring at his spike as his biolights pulse and slick beads at the head.

• Body flushing, you start stripping and his hands smooth over you, exploring lazily. Those rumbling, animalistic growls he’s making string you tight as you straddle him and rock yourself against his spike. And his optics are hooded as he watches you. “Take me,” he groans and you catch his spike to guide him to you, thighs trembling at the faint burn as you rolls your hips. Feeling him stretch you as he sinks deep once you relax. His big hands cup your waist as you moan and your hips roll. ‘This good?’ You ask breathlessly and his hips lift slightly under you to make you grab at his hands for balance. “Just like that. Don’t stop,” he groans, head back.

• Knew you’d feel amazing, all slick heat wrapped around his spike. Rumbling aggressively, he watches you lift up and sink back down, hips rolling as you take all of him and he can’t look away from his spike disappearing inside you. Groaning as his hips lift to meet you, those needy sounds you’re making have him winding up. Have him close. And once isn’t going to be enough. Knows he’s going to carry you back to his berth and keep you there until his rut is over. Fill you over and over until you know you’re his. Because he’s keeping you. Feels you begin to tremble, whimpering his name and his servos flex on your hips. Helping you keep riding him as he groans until you’re fisting him and he’s shuddering as he overloads.

• Wings lifting as he meets your eyes, his plating heats to find you naked, hands nervously fidgeting together in front of you. “Okay?” He echoes, unsure what exactly you’re talking about. And you puff out your cheeks before striding his way and grabbing his wrist. Tugging him down as you lay back on your mattress on his berth. Amused, he kneels between your thighs. ‘I want a sparkling,’ you blurt and his wings flare. “You’re not messing with me, right?” He asks and you laugh even though you look nervous. “Are you sure?” Cupping your cheek in a hand, he wonders what’s changed.

• “I’m sure.” Even if you’re worried, you want this. Expect him to release his spike and cover you, but his servos ghost along your jaw while his head lowers instead. His mouth sliding against yours as you reach up to pull him down. Needing to feel him against you as he braces himself over you. Big hands slide over you, his servos mapping you out like he’s learning your body all over again. Like it’s the first time. Thigh sliding against the outside of his as your own hands smooth down his sides, that jangling nervousness ebbs to leave only need.

• Deepening the kiss as you make a soft, needy sound, his spike releases to pressurize and he still can’t believe you’d finally said yes. Was sure that having a sparkling scared you and he’d been okay with waiting. With letting you decide. Even if you’d decided you never wanted one. Didn’t want to push you away by demanding something you didn’t want. For you to feel trapped, or worse betrayed, by him if he tried to spark you on purpose. Rumbling when you move restlessly under him, his hips roll to rub himself against you. Trying to relieve that ache drawing him taut.

• Those red optics snare you as his mouth presses a kiss against the corner of yours and you inhale when he shifts between your thighs. Feeling the head of his spike stretch you when he sinks deep. And you can’t look away from his stare as his hips pump. Hanging onto him while his spike strokes deep, his plating shifts and he pushes up slightly. Leaving it up to you to make the connection as his bare spark thrums and arcs like it’s desperately trying to reach you. Drawn to that pulsing light, you have the errant thought that this is him, the truest part of him. That he’s vulnerable right now in a way you can’t really comprehend.