Categories > TV > Transformers

Everybody loves Smokescreen

by VladimirVampier 0 reviews

This is part 4 of the Everybody loves ... Series. Smokescreen is handsome, of course he knew. He doesn't know why, but apparently, the whole crew likes to get in his faceplates and smooch Unicro...

Category: Transformers - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Romance - Published: 2015-05-29 - 2114 words - Complete

Smokescreen had a great finish, he knew that and even after the mission, he still looked handsome.

It certainly had been a tough mission and he had to get patched up later for sure, but Smokescreen didn’t care. He had gone out, got some fresh air and kicked Decepticon skid-plates. What else did he want?

Maybe a bit praise, that certainly wouldn’t hurt. He was on his way to Optimus Prime’s office to report and debrief the mission. Once he arrived, he knocked on the door.

‘Come in,” Optimus’ voice sounded from inside the room. Smokescreen stepped inside the office walking straight to the desk where the Prime was seated.

“Hello, Smokescreen,” Optimus greeted. “Hi, Optimus!” the young soldier greeted back,” I brought the report of the latest mission.” Optimus nodded,” Very good, Smokescreen.”
Smokescreen blushed as he gave the datapad to Optimus. He always felt gooey inside when the Prime would give him a compliment. He liked getting compliments.

Smokescreen stood silent at Optimus’ side, as he read the report, occasionally glancing at the Prime’s faceplates. “Good job, Smokescreen,” Optimus said, turning to the young soldier.

“I did?” Smokescreen asked uncertain,” Nothing was missing? Did I put in enough details?” Optimus chuckled and pulled Smokescreen in his lap. “You did well on the report,” Optimus said.

Before Smokescreen had the chance to ramble again, Optimus pressed his lipplates to Smokescreen’s. Softly squealing in surprise, Smokescreen stared in shock at his leader.

His idol was kissing him…
His idol was kissing him…
His idol was kissing him.

What does he do now?
Pull away?
Kissing back sounded a lot better.

Smokescreen began to kiss back. Optimus flicked out his glossa, licking Smokescreen’s bottom lip. Smokescreen opened his mouth and let the Prime’s glossa in. They softly battled each other. Optimus’ servos moved over Smokescreen’s backplating.

“I noticed you’re good in other things too,” Optimus said, when they separated. Smokescreen blushed, at a complete loss of words. Optimus pecked him on his lipplates.

“Go,” the Prime said,” get some energon, rest, you’ve earned it.” Smokescreen nodded and climbed off his lap. “Uh,” Smokescreen said, when he was at the door,” See ya.” Optimus chuckled as he closed the door.

“Later, Smokescreen.”




The loud noises continued. Smokescreen and Bulkhead were sparring in the mainroom. Ratchet was in his medbay and the others were off base. Smokescreen was a lot faster, so he used it to his advances. Bulkhead was big and strong, so not easily taken down.

He had the upper hand in their sparring match, pinning down Smokescreen several times. The Rookie never gave up, he had some energy left in him, and kept twisting out of Bulkhead’s grasp.

He found himself faceplates flat on the ground, a strong grip on his legs and his back bend in a weird angle.

“Yield,” Smokescreen muttered. “What did you say?” Bulkhead asked. “I said: yield!” Smokescreen yelled, the pain in his back too much. Bulkhead released him and they both got off the floor.

Smokescreen huffed in annoyance, he didn’t like to lose. “Cheer up, Smokey,” Bulkhead said as he got them energon,” You fought well.” Smokescreen smiled at the compliment. Bulkhead gave him his energon as they went to sit on the Cybertronian sized couch.

“dude, you gave me quite the dents,” Smokescreen said as he overlooked himself. “Really?” Bulkhead asked concerned. Smokescreen pointed out the two dents in his left arm, three in his chassis and one on his upper right leg.

“and I believe there’s one on my back too,” Smokescreen said,” But I can’t see more.” Bulkhead had a worried expression on his faceplates and leaned closer to Smokescreen. “don’t worry, big guy,” Smokescreen said. “No, let me make it up to you,” Bulkhead said.

Smokescreen was confused to what he meant when suddenly Bulkhead gave the dents on his left arm kisses. Smokescreen was surprised but said nothing nor did he pull away. Bulkhead moved to the dents in his chassis, softly kissing them.

It was quite sweet actually. It got a little less sweet and a little more something else, when he moved to Smokescreen´s leg. Bulkhead pushed Smokescreen´s knees apart so he could reach the dent.

Smokescreen began to blush as Bulkhead kissed his upper right leg. He moved back up. “Oh,” he said,” I forgot one.” Smokescreen blinked,” I don’t think so.” Bulkhead grinned at him,” I did. Here.” He softly poked Smokescreen’s lipplates.

“What?” Smokescreen asked flustered,” But I don’t ha-”

He got cut off by Bulkhead’s lipplates on his. He softly kissed back, thoughts at a complete halt. They kept kissing, until they heard a low whistle.

“Jeez, Bulk, don’t try to squeeze the rookie, will ya?”

Smokescreen pulled away, optics wide in shock, Wheeljack was standing at the doorframe leading to the quarters. Bulkhead let go of Smokescreen, greeting his friend. Smokescreen took that opportunity to dash away. His faceplates were red and burning from embarrassment. He could vaguely hear the wreckers yell at him as he dashed through the hallway:

“Smokescreen, wait!”


There was a knock on his door. “Go away!” Smokescreen put his faceplates back on his pillow. “Aww, Smokey,” Wheeljack’s voice sounded from the other side of the door,” Open up.”

Smokescreen stayed silent. “Smokey? Hey, it’s not that bad,” Wheeljack said,” I’ve been caught kissing all the time. I’ve caught others kissing lots of times. Hell, I even sometimes joined them.”

Smokescreen pulled a face into the pillow,” Thanks for the images, you slut.” Wheeljack laughed at the muffled response. “Let me in please?”

Smokescreen send a command to the door and it slid open. “There you are,” Wheeljack said. Smokescreen moved around so he was laying with his back on the berth and faceplates tot eh ceiling. Wheeljack sat on the side of the berth.

“Do you really feel that upset?” Wheeljack asked with a serious expression,” Just cause I caught you smooching?” Smokescreen shook his helm and sighed,” No. I already felt a bit bad. I guess the embarrassment made it worse.”

Wheeljack patted Smokescreen’s arm. “Or maybe,” he said,” it is because you didn’t finish your energon.” He held out the unfinished energon cube and Smokescreen accepted it.

“Aww, you brought me my energon, how sweet,” Smokescreen said overdramatic. “Well then,” Wheeljack said, a grin on his faceplates,” I think I deserved a kiss, didn’t I?”

Spit take.


Smokescreen quickly gulped down the energon he almost accidentally spit out. “What?” Wheeljack asked, still grinning,” Do you think I’m a bad kisser?” Smokescreen snorted,” I don’t think that… I know that.”

Seeing Wheeljack’s expression, Smokescreen laughed. “I’m a really good kisser,” Wheeljack said. Smokescreen raised one opticridge. “Oh really?” he asked.
“Yes, one of the best,” Wheeljack said smugly. “Who says that?” Smokescreen asked.

“You will be soon.”

Before Smokescreen knew it, Wheeljack had pressed their lipplates together. It was quite heated. Wheeljack licked and nibbled in Smokescreen’s bottom lip and, without much thinking about it, Smokescreen parted his lips.

He let Wheeljack win the battle of dominance, glossas intertwined with each other. Wheeljack pulled away,” Now do you think I’m a good kisser?”

Smokescreen thought for a moment,” Nah. More like an average kisser.” He laughed out loud once he saw Wheeljack’s bewildered expression. “You naughty little mech,” Wheeljack said laughing,” I see you’re doing much better.”

Smokescreen nodded. “Though I’d recommend you to see Ratchet,” Wheeljack said, sounding serious,” you need to get those dents out.” Smokescreen nodded. “Ok,” Wheeljack said and smiled. He rubbed Smokescreen’s helm and stood up,” Catch ya later, Smokey.” The door slid shut behind Wheeljack. Smokescreen sighed and rolled on his front.

He would see Ratchet….later.


“Mind explaining how you got all these dents?”

Ratchet glared at him. Smokescreen wiggled around on the medical berth. “Well, half of it is from getting my plates kicked by the ‘Cons,” he said,” and the other half is from sparring with Bulk.”

Ratchet went to get the buffer,” And why didn’t you come to me sooner?” Smokescreen huffed,” I dunno.” Ratchet returned with the needed tools. “Well, you should’ve,” Ratchet said,” it’s no good to walk around with dents for too long. You might accidentally hurt yourself.”

Smokescreen huffed again,” They’re just small dents, Ratch, nothing serious.” He instantly regretted saying that when he saw the look on Ratchet’s faceplates. He gulped.

“In that case, you don’t have to come in here anymore,” Ratchet said,” not even when you lose an arm, because that’s nothing serious.” Smokescreen cringed at the venom in the medic’s voice.

Bad move, Smokey, bad move.

Ratchet turned to walk away, but Smokescreen grabbed his wrist. “Ratchet, wait!” he said,” I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t mean it like that.” Ratchet sighed, but turned to him. He started to work on the dents, the one’s in Smokescreen’s chassis first.

“You should do well to remember that I know what’s best for you,” Ratchet muttered,” even of you think otherwise.” Smokescreen kept silent and laid still. It didn’t take long for Ratchet to finish his work.

Smokescreen was almost lulled into recharge, he felt unusually tired. “Hey,” Ratchet said softly,” I’m done.” Smokescreen cycled his optics and murmured nonsense. “Thanks, Ratch,” he said,” I appreciate it. Even after me running my mouth.”

Ratchet gave him a soft smile,” It’s alright. You have a habit of doing that.” Smokescreen chuckled and sat up,” That I do.” He smiled at Ratchet, who was leaning in to him. The smiles never leaving their lipplates as they met. Pressing soft kisses to each other mouth’s, occasionally nibbling or giving a playful lick.

They kissed again before Ratchet leaned away. “You’re allowed to leave now,” he said,” Go, do something fun.” Smokescreen smiled and stood up from the berth. “I’ll see you, Ratch!” he greeted before exciting the medbay. Ratchet shook his helm.

“That, I believe, will happen.”


Smokescreen was walking back to his quarters when he stopped in his tracks. Music was drifting through the hall, coming from the open door. Wasn’t that Bumblebee’s quarters?
He slowly walked towards the open door and peeked in.

His jaw almost dropped to the ground. Bumblebee was dancing. He swayed his hips to the rhythm of the song. He moved his servos in the air and twirled around. It was a fast, up-beat song, great to dance to.

Smokescreen decided to join in with the fun. He jumped beside Bumblebee, who smiled at him when he noticed him. The two began to dance together. The song ended and another one came up. It was still up-beat, but slower this time.

Bumblebee stood behind Smokescreen, took his servos and put them around his helm. His own servos drifted down to Smokescreen’s hips. He swayed his hips to the beat, his servos guiding Smokescreen’s hips along.

Smokescreen relaxed and leaned his frame against Bee. He thought it was rather hot, Bee’s servos on his hips, his aft right up against Bee’s pelvic plating… He needed to stop thinking about how sexy it was or he might overheat.

He could feel the heat radiating from Bumblebee’s frame, pressed against his and he leaned his helm back. Suddenly, he found himself kissing the yellow scout. It was a sloppy, lazy kiss, but it felt wonderful.

The song ended, as did their dance. They stood unmoving, pressed against each other, engaged in a passionate and heated kiss. Bumblebee pulled away and smiled. Smokescreen’s faceplates colored red and he felt extremely hot.

“I-I need to go for a drive,” Smokescreen said and stepped out of Bumblebee’s grasp. He awkwardly smiled as he left Bee’s quarters. He could hear a new song starting, it was a techno-kind of song.

Bumblebee would probably resume his dancing, swaying those delicious hips. Ok. He really needed to clear his processor. And what better way was there than letting his tires squeal and make the asphalt smell like burning rubber?

He encountered Ratchet on his way out. The medic asked if he was okay or needed to see him. Smokescreen excused himself and went outside. The sun was setting, turning the landscape beautiful orange. He felt the cool air slip over his heated frame. A small smile on his faceplates, he transformed and drove off.

He really needed that drive.
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