#thundercracker x reader

• 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.

• How do Star and Warp both have sparklings? Especially when neither was even trying. They probably hadn’t even wanted to spark their humans. Feeling your soft fingers running over his helm, he vents and rubs his cheek against you, looking up as you arch a brow. “Skywarp sparked his partner,” he mutters and you just blink. ‘And you’re upset about that? I’d have thought you’d be happy for your brother,’ you say and he rumbles moodily. “I am,” he growls, the words gruff and annoyed as you smile down at him.

• “Yeah, you sound ecstatic,” you reply, because you know exactly where this conversation is going. How many times have you had this talk with him? ‘I want a sparkling. Just one,’ he growls, wings flaring slightly like he’s trying to show them off as his biolights start cycling and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to not laugh at his peacocking. “I told you that you could have a puppy,” you tease and he groans, face against you as his servos fist the back of your shirt. And he’s slowly wearing you down, making it harder to hang on to all the reasons why you’re not ready. Because really, they feel so flimsy. But you don’t know how to tell him that you’re just scared.

• “That’s not the same thing,” he mutters, cupping your cheek in a hand and resting his head against yours. “Don’t you want sparklings?” He asks and your fingers play with cables of his neck. ‘Eventually. Maybe,’ you whisper, field prickling him with your anxiety. ‘I just, I don’t know if I’m ready, yet. But I’m not saying no,’ you add hurriedly, your field spiking and he rumbles, sitting back and gathering you against his frame, arms curling around you at the feel of that fear. Do you really think he might abandon you if you refuse him outright? That his need to have sparklings matters more than you to him? “You’re going to be a great furbaby carrier,” he says.

• Studying you as you grin, he clears his vents and glances back at his datapad. And the problem at hand. Because when he’d asked Warp and Star to his wedding, Warp had shared the wedding announcement to the general Decepticon chat. Wings fidgeting as he absently, murmurs a ‘sure’ to you, he tries to figure out how to explain that a lot of Decepticons might show up. That some of them might come just because they’re bored. Might also cause trouble for that same reason. And some of them? Telling them they’re not invited would just guarantee they show up. Like Megatron. Watching the notifications popping up with growing dread, he wants to groan.

• Pleased that he agreed so easily, you notice his expression. And the datapad screen scrolling as new notifications show up. Rapidly. “Is something wrong?” You ask, wishing you could read the alien gibberish of his language, because you’re guessing whatever drama is going down is good. Cybertronians too similar to humans for it to be anything but drama. ‘You know I love you, right?’ He mumbles, wings tucking closer to his frame. Wait, is the drama about you and him? “Yeah?” You drawl slowly, suspicious now because he looks like a little boy caught doing something he knows he’s not supposed to. “But what did you do?”

• Just say it. Say ‘hey, so apparently most of the Decepticon forces might show up at the wedding. They may or may not, probably, won’t behave, but hey, your sire already hates me, so that’s fine.’ Groaning, he drops his head against his outstretched arm. “TC? Sweetie, what is it?” You ask, touching his helm and his head turns to peek at you. Knows he’s being dramatic, but he wants this to go perfectly. For you to have no regrets about choosing him. What if one of his people transforms and steps on one of your people? You’d never forgive him.

• “I’m sorry,” he groans and you raise your eyebrows. ‘About what?’ You ask, starting to get exasperated. “How do you feel about a big wedding?” He asks instead of answering you and sounding absolutely miserable. And you glance at the datapad. Still scrolling new messages and replies. ‘How big?’ You ask suspiciously. That’s a lot of notifications. He’d said he wanted to invite his trine, but that’s a lot of notifications. “Everyone?” Staring as you blink slowly, all you can do is nod. Because it’s nod or start laughing hysterically. Or crying. Just imagining his people all showing up. ‘They have avatars, right? Tc, they all have avatars, right?’

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• Venting tiredly when he hears both bitlets start crying, Krok pokes his head into the rec room to see what the issue is. And you’ve got both sparklings in your arms as they sob about ‘carrier getting eaten by turborats.’ Meeting your angry eyes, you hug the younglings to yourself, gesturing angrily at Misfire. “Rip said Misfire’s carrier gift idea was dumb and the grown mech decided to throw hands with a child,” you snap, looking livid as Misfire clears his vents.

Thundercracker

• Grunting awake when a knee lands in your gut, you feel tiny hands fumbling to push up your sleep mask. And you give up pretending to still be asleep when your daughter smooshes something against your lips. Sitting up and wiping candy off your face, you smile despite the rude awakening. “Treats!” Your daughter declares, grabbing another from the box in her hand and you reach to grab it so she doesn’t try to feed you again. ‘Are these for me?’ You ask, glancing up at your husband. With a datapad. Recording you both. ‘No,’ you tell him, wiping at your face again as he rumbles.

• “Orchids,” he murmurs, searching for the flower on your human information network. “These?” He asks, tilting the screen so you can see and you shrug, your field flustered as it buzzes him. “Orchids, it is.” And you look up at him as he adds notes to the list he’s been working on. ‘How are we even paying for this?’ You ask and his servos still. ‘Weddings are expensive,’ you add warily and he clears his vents, wings shifting at his back. “I’ve got it handled,” he finally says, feeling you staring at him as he pretends to be engrossed in his datapad.

• “You have money? Human money?” You ask suspiciously and he grimaces. ‘I have shanix and Swindle’s converting it to human currency for me,’ he says, clearly uncomfortable. And that only raises more questions. “Where’d he get human money from?” Yeah, that’s not the face of someone dealing with someone else running an upstanding, legitimate business. Don’t know this Swindle, but from Thundercracker’s expression and the guy’s name, you’re betting it’s stolen. Probably very stolen. ‘I find it’s best to not ask,’ he finally says and you snort. Realizing you’re probably going to have the alien equivalent to a mob wedding. What if some of his giant buddies decided to crash the wedding?

• “I have this,” he insists as you raise your brows and prop your cheek up on a fist, your other hand gesturing at the datapad. ‘Do we have a guest list, yet?’ You ask, expression suspicious. Venting he pulls up that worksheet and show it to you. ‘I can’t read that,’ you sigh. ‘If you invite any of your people, they need to know that they have to use the creepy fake human avatars.’ Amused that that’s what you’re worried about, he almost laughs, but hesitates instead. Because he hadn’t thought about inviting his people. Spark aching as he stares at the list of your family and friends, he fidgets with the datapad in his hands. “I’d like to invite my trine,” he admits softly. Misses them. Misses that sense of family and belonging.

• Leaning against him, you feel him rest his head against yours. “Sure. Just make sure they know to use human avatars, because nothing says happy wedding like people running and screaming for their lives,” you tease and his mouth brushes your temple. ‘Thank you.’ Did he think you wouldn’t want his people there? It’s his wedding as much as yours. And you wonder if you’ll get to see the little sparkling, if Starscream and his spouse might bring the baby to the wedding. Ever since finding out about the hybrid baby, you’ve been obsessed. Wanting to see what a baby seeker looks like. What Thundercracker’s kid might look like.

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