Just Wanted To Say My Tumblr Is Not A Place For Discrimination, Have A Wonderful Day

Shameless Megatron Moment (Lap Gremlin)

Post War A.U. Moment

The council chamber was in chaos.

Councilor Crackhead was red-faced and stammering. Councilor Flatline had her helm in her hands. Starscream looked like he’d combust from sheer secondhand embarrassment. Ratchet had long since given up and was just slumped in his seat, mumbling about resignation letters.

And Megatron… Megatron was purring.

In Optimus’s lap.

And not just sitting there innocently—oh no.

He was grinding, subtle but unmistakable, the smooth curves of his interface panels rubbing slow, deliberate circles against Optimus’s thighs. His hands lazily cupped the Prime’s shoulders, thumbs brushing teasing arcs along the seams of his plating.

Optimus sat bolt upright, stiff as a board, his optics locked on some invisible point on the far wall like it would save him from the situation. It wouldn’t.

Megatron leaned in, lips brushing his audial.

“Do you remember the sound I made when you fragged me over the console last week?” he purred, just loud enough for Optimus to hear.

Optimus didn’t move.

Megatron rocked his hips just so, sending a flicker of heat straight through the Prime’s lap. “The one where I begged you to overload while you were still deep in me?”

Optimus’s vents stuttered.

“And how I whimpered when you called me your pretty thing. You growled it like you meant it.”

“Megatron,” Optimus said tightly, still facing forward.

“Yes, dear?”

Another slow grind. This time, Optimus’s servos twitched where they rested on the arm of the chair, as if fighting a torturous urge to grab Megatron by the hips and make him stay still.

“Last night,” Megatron whispered, mouth curved into a smug grin, “when you took me apart with your fingers and made me say your name like a prayer—how long do you think I’ll last if you do it again? In this chair. With them watching.”

Optimus made a strangled noise. Across the table, Starscream audibly choked.

“You’re impossible,” Optimus muttered under his breath.

“And you’re hard,” Megatron said smugly, arching his back slightly to rub down again. “So I’d say we’re even.”

Optimus was two seconds from transforming and driving into a wall.

“I am going to throw you.”

Megatron curled closer, optics lidded. “You’re going to frag me.”

Councilor Crackhead finally slammed a servo down. “I—! This is a diplomatic hearing! Not your personal berth!”

Megatron tilted his helm innocently. “I’m just engaging in some peaceful bonding.”

“You’re rubbing your aft on the Prime’s lap!”

Soundwave raised one digit in agreement.

“Confirmed.”

Flatline threw down her datapad. “Banned. Banned until further notice. Both of you.”

Optimus stood—with Megatron still in his arms—and nodded solemnly.

“I understand.”

Megatron just smirked. “Don’t worry. He’ll keep me restrained. Eventually.”

—

They didn’t make it five steps down the hall before Megatron resumed whispering filth into Optimus’s audials.

“I want you to tie my wrists again. Press me into the wall. Frag me until I cry.”

Optimus groaned. “You’re going to get us arrested.”

“Then you’ll have to visit me in prison,” Megatron purred. “Bring cuffs. Leave the key behind, we won't need it.”

On Ao3 to read - https://archiveofourown.org/works/64716754

Remember this trend?

I got the video from @Zelvof

Maybe I should write a version where Optimus does this to Megatron 😂😈

It started out innocent.

Mostly.

After the war, when meetings between Autobots and Decepticons were tense but necessary, Optimus had quietly, very quietly, invented a system.

Whenever Megatron got that look — all smug, smugger-than-he-had-any-right-to-be — Optimus’ restraint thinned dangerously.

The solution? A secret code.

"Megatron, we need to debrief in private." Translation, 'I am about to lovingly drag you to the nearest berthframe before I short-circuit in front of everybody.''

And so far... It had worked flawlessly.

Every time Optimus said those words, Megatron would stiffen slightly, optics flickering wide—then immediately nod in that "I know exactly what you mean and I am absolutely not about to die of excitement, no sir" way.

Both of them would excuse themselves with utmost dignity...

...and ten kliks later, they'd be passionately tangled together behind a locked door somewhere.

Today was no different.

They were sitting in a joint peace council meeting, the chamber stiflingly hot, tension so thick it could have been used to patch hull breaches.

Megatron was lounging in his chair, sprawled, arrogant, looking far too pretty for Optimus’ nerves to endure.

Every smirk, every lazy stretch of his frame across the armrests... it was unbearable.

Optimus’ servo twitched against the datapad in his lap.

He cleared his intake quietly. Leaned over. And in a low, unbearably polite voice murmured, "Megatron, we need to debrief in private."

Megatron jolted like he’d been struck by lightning.

Starscream, halfway through a smug speech about Energon rations, barely glanced up.

"Of course," Megatron said stiffly, rising from his chair with textbook nonchalance.

Optimus followed, offering a tight nod to the others.

"Pardon us. Important discussion."

No one batted an optic. Business as usual.

The door slid shut behind them with a satisfying hiss.

Outside, in the empty hallway...

The second they were alone, Megatron whirled on him, optics bright.

"You unbelievable menace," he hissed, visibly fighting a grin. "You couldn’t wait until after the meeting?"

Optimus smiled sheepishly, venting slowly to calm himself.

"You were distracting," he said simply. "It felt... urgent."

Megatron opened his mouth—probably to say something scathing—and instead let out a tiny squeak when Optimus took his hand.

Not dragging. Not rough.

Just gently entwining their fingers, tugging Megatron along with soft, coaxing touches as they briskly, inconspicuously disappeared down the hall.

They passed a few low-ranked Vehicons and Autobots.

No one noticed anything strange. Just two leaders—walking quickly, whispering, looking very serious.

Totally normal.

Totally not two mechs about to find the nearest locked storage room and “debrief” so thoroughly the walls would need to be sanitized.

Megatron pressed his back to the closed door, vents already hitching.

Optimus stood in front of him, helm bowed shyly, huge hands resting hesitantly on Megatron’s hips.

"You’re sure this isn’t... disruptive?" Optimus murmured, cheeks heating with embarrassment. "We can stop if you—"

"If you stop now," Megatron rasped, gripping his arms tightly, "I will throw you onto the floor myself."

Optimus made a soft, pleased sound, venting warmly against Megatron’s neck cables.

"You’re very beautiful when you’re impatient," he mumbled sweetly.

Megatron’s vents hitched.

Then, with the gentlest possible touch for someone his size, Optimus scooped Megatron into his arms, cradling him like a treasure—like he weighed nothing—and carried him carefully to the makeshift berth stacked against the wall.

Megatron made a scandalized noise, half-heartedly pounding his fists against Optimus’ chest.

"Put me down properly, you ridiculous—"

"No," Optimus whispered against his audio, utterly earnest. "You’re precious."

Megatron’s whole frame shuddered, armor flushing a light purple at the edges.

And when Optimus laid him down and kissed him — slow, reverent, careful — Megatron forgot entirely about pouting.

He melted under every careful touch, every quiet, worshipful whisper against his plating. Leaning into the sugar sweet adoration with a joy he would not yet admit.

Back to the meeting a few hours later.

Optimus entered first, datapad in hand, helm dutifully bowed.

Megatron followed, looking absolutely glowing and a smirk tugging at his lips.

Starscream glanced up, suspicious.

"...You missed the entire second budget report," he sneered.

Megatron sniffed loftily. "We were discussing matters of critical importance."

Starscream narrowed his optics.

Meanwhile, Ratchet leaned toward Ironhide and muttered under his breath, "How much you wanna bet 'debriefing' means something completely inappropriate?"

Later, in their quarters.

Optimus shyly bumped their shoulders together, cheeks glowing with quiet pride.

"Did I do okay?" he mumbled bashfully.

Megatron grunted, pulling him down into a languid kiss.

"You’re perfect," he whispered.

And Optimus, relieved and delighted, immediately started plotting when he could "debrief" Megatron again.

Maybe tomorrow.

Or maybe right now.

--

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65052856/chapters/167277712

Codephrase Choices

The Planner Hidden Away

Title: The Wedding Files: Confidential. Do Not Read, Seriously. Stop.

Part One: Journalistic Crimes and Conjux Chaos

Elita One wasn’t snooping.

She happened to be organizing files in Optimus’ quarters—because he sure as Pit wasn’t going to do it himself—and a misplaced datapad just happened to fall into her hands. The bold red words across the front were… “TOP SECRET WEDDING PLANS – DO NOT OPEN – PRIVATE – MEGATRON DO NOT READ (unless you said yes?)”

Which immediately made her open it.

“Elita, we are not violating Prime’s privacy,” Ratchet said, wobbling in with arms full of medical logs and an expression like a mech who desperately wanted plausible deniability. “Put it back.”

“But Ratchet,” she said sweetly, flipping the datapad open, “he labeled it.”

“…With instructions not to open it.”

“Right. That’s like hanging a sign saying ‘No cookies inside, definitely don’t eat.’”

“…You would eat the cookies.”

She grinned. “And look—look at this!”

Ratchet, a medic and war veteran, had seen many horrifying things in his life. Never had he been more stunned than when Elita rotated the datapad toward him and he saw an entire file titled:

"Bridal Veil Options for Megatron (He’ll Pretend to Hate These But Secretly Love Them)"

Ratchet’s face slowly turned a tired grey. “No. Absolutely not. This is—this is romance. I’m out. I’m too old for this slag. I fought in four wars. No.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Elita grabbed his shoulder and forced him back down onto Optimus’ berth. “You’re in this now.”

Entry 17: Veil Option C - Soft white mesh, long cathedral length, attached to a silver head-plate crown (not too gaudy, subtle Decepticon sigil etched beneath). He’ll roll his optics, but I know he’ll smile later when he thinks no one’s looking. Note: ask Knockout to help design.

Entry 42: Vow Draft (Optimus to Megatron): "I once thought you were my enemy. But you are my other half—every fierce word I shouted into the void, you returned tenfold. And through the static and war, I heard you. I still hear you. Even now, I kneel, not in surrender—but in devotion. To you. My fiercest love. My hope, my endless...." It goes on for several pages.

Elita covered her mouth. “He wrote vows. He wrote Megatron wedding vows.”

Ratchet blinked. “He wrote thirty-seven versions.”

“Oh my Primus,” Elita whispered reverently. “He has a color palette for the reception.”

There was an entire spreadsheet labeled “Which shade of blue brings out his fusion cannon best?” with comments like “lavender is too romantic too soon?” and “is navy blue too ‘war criminal chic’?”

They didn’t stop reading until two hours had passed, both of them crying from silent laughter, and Elita desperately trying not to scream “HE PICKED OUT THE FLOWERS BASED ON WHAT HE THINKS WILL MATCH MEGATRON’S EYES.”

—

Part Two: Two Years Later (and One Toddler)

“—and then the handsome, wise hero raised his sword,” Megatron said, seated beside their young sparkling who sat in a soft, reinforced berth, swaddled comfortably, “and he struck down the evil warlord with one mighty swoop—”

“Carierrrr,” the sparkling (named Amorvëael Pax, because “Warcry” was vetoed by Optimus. Aaaand maybe also because Megatron was intensely partial to the name Optimus suggested, not that Megatron would admit), said, squinting up at him. “But what happened to the warlord?”

Megatron grinned—teeth, fangs, and menaces. “Oh, he exploded, obviously.”

“Megatron,” came a low voice from the doorway. “You know the warlord wasn’t evil.”

Megatron groaned, leaning his helm back against the armchair. “Optimus, I am telling a bedtime story. This is a dramatic tale for developmental benefit.”

Optimus stepped into the room like he hadn’t just been doing peace negotiations all day, still looking like every romantic ideal Megatron would never admit he had. He bent over, kissed Megatron’s cheek, then his mouth, and murmured, “The warlord was a victim of their circumstance, of their society’s broken system of repression, and also very pretty.”

The sparkling blinked. “Carrier, were you the warlord?”

Megatron stared. “No.”

Optimus grinned. “Yes.”

Megatron side-eyed him, scowling. “That’s false information. Your sire has no idea what he is talking about.”

Optimus kissed him again, this time longer, and added softly, to both his Conjux and sparkling “Also, I loved him very much. Still do.”

Their sparkling giggled and groaned. “Ew.”

“Someday,” Optimus said cheerfully, ruffling Amorvëael's helm, “you’ll be grateful your parent's are romantic.”

“Someday,” Megatron grunted, dragging Optimus down to sit beside him, then shifting to sit atop the Prime’s lap, “you’ll learn how to properly villainize your spouse for bedtime entertainment purposes.”

Optimus leaned in closer, letting his hands slide to Megatron’s waist. His voice dropped to a mumur, a whisper. “Do you know what I was thinking about all through that meeting?”

Megatron narrowed his optics, suspicious. “…What?”

“You, wearing that wedding gift I picked.” Optimus’ hands squeezed just slightly. “On our first night together. You remember what we did after you took it off?”

Megatron made a small, choked noise that sounded like pure denial and deeply repressed enthusiasm.

“Because I do,” Optimus continued, lips brushing against the tip of Megatron’s audio receptor. “I remember how soft you were. How vocal. And how many hinges we broke off that berth.”

Megatron growled—growled—low in his throat. “We are in front of the sparkling.”

“Hmm.” Optimus grinned, completely unapologetic. “Then you’d better save it for tonight. Besides, they can't hear us, sweetspark.”

The sparkling blinked up at them innocently. “Why is carrier’s face red?”

Optimus stood, lifting Megatron in one arm like it was nothing, and turned toward the hall. “Because we’re going to talk about love and its many expressions, Amorvëael. Bedtime for you.”

"Don't sneak out and eat cookies in the night again! It's bad for your health!” Megatron chastised over his shoulder as he was carried bridal-style down the corridor. He then turned to falsely argue with the Prime. “I am a warlord! I had a feared name! Put me down!”

“You’re my beloved warlord,” Optimus said, lovingly, “and you’re very cuddly when flustered.”

Later that night, Megatron did wear the gift again. Luckily they had long invested in soundproofing.

—

Meanwhile, in their quarters—hidden in the deepest drawer—was a datapad still carefully preserved with labels like:

“Bouquet arrangements for a very stubborn, secretly romantic tyrant.” “Megatron Vows – Final Draft (don’t cry reading these again, idiot).” “Honeymoon suggestions (some of these are just excuses to see him blush).” “Intimate gift plans – do not open until date night (Megatron Edition).”

And at the very bottom: “Wedding File – Complete. Conjux Endurae status: Happily ever after, and then some.”

---

I definitely put way more than necessary thought into their sparkling's name.

Amorvëael Pax

Pronounced: Ah-MOR-vee-EL P-axe

Amor (Latin): Love

Vëa (from Quenya, Tolkien Elvish): Life, being, essence

-ael / -el (Hebrew/angelic suffix): Of or belonging to, often implying divine or sacred

Pax - Peace / period of peace

Meaning/idea: “The life born of our love in a time of peace” or “Most treasured existence of our love in a time of peace.”

From time to time they affectionately call their sparkling beloved treasure for short.

Love, War, and High-Grade

New chapter up!

Also thanks to the readers for the lovely words you have left at tumblr. Idk how to reply privately to messages left at inbox so I left my reply in a post without mentioning names in case of privacy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64323400/chapters/165120823

Frequency of Two Sparks

I imagine if soundwave made a song it would somewhat sound like this.

I realized far too late that I forgot to title the song name here, so I labeled the post title with the name.

Idk why but I couldn't attach the video, so here's the link instead. (Edit: issue fixed)

i feel seen at this post, also I figured out how to reblog stuff, (I don't click any buttons randomly unless I research/find out what it is or risk accidently buying something again)

Some idiot: "Why are you reading your own fic, that's shallow and stupid"

All fanfic writers and writers everywhere: "Who the fuck do you think I wrote it for?!"

TFP Megatron's Thighs

I'm currently trying to draw tfp Megatron's thighs. This is all I have so far, I'm not an artist unfortunately so everything takes way too much time and is subpar.

Anyone else obsessed with a certain warlords thighs?

I don't really need to label anything since no one's going to steal this, I just got bored when I kept messing up drawing his armor stuff.

Update on my slow attempt at a certain warlords thighs ↘️.

Where to find me?

Oblivious_Prime - Ao3

Oblivious_Prime - Wattpad

@oblivious-prime- Tumblr

Oblivious_Prime, @Oblivious_Prime_Optimus YouTube

Note:

I will be posting information about the winning au in the following blog. Info: Chapter onr will be released in AO3, by the end of May 18th 2025. Updates/info/will be posted in this side blog.

Winning A.U. Blog Link - https://www.tumblr.com/oblivious-prime-opmeg-au?source=share

this has inspired me to begin writing a draft of a new fic, thank you petal covered cat

Beneath the blush of petals fair, A kitten dreams without a care. Soft breaths rise, the world grows still, Wrapped in pink, a gentle thrill.

Your peace, a muse without a sound— A nap, a pose, the world unwound. Thank you, little petaled fairy of adorable light, For gifting me this bloom of inspiration to write.