A - Z Megatron X Reader

A - Z Megatron X Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: sexual content, noncon(dubcon), voyeurism

Megatron/Reader(You) in which you are a captive who has found their place on board the Decepticon warship... as a sex toy

H is for Humiliation

You were halfway mad when his vicious laugh sounded in your audial processor, skittering down your backstrut like the jab of an energon prod. It does little to take your attention away from your impending overload, but it's enough to make you focus on his next words.

"I've acquired another Autobot it would seem. Perhaps someone you know?"

Overstimulated and barely conscious at this point, you couldn't even form one word - never mind a string of them - to ask what he was talking about. The feeling of the raised, overlapping ridges on his spike as he lifted you rhythmically up and down in his lap made holding onto a single thought nearly impossible. You opened your mouth to try, but all that came out was unintelligible gibberish, punctuated by a high-pitched whine as he tilted his hips up to meet you on a downward stroke.

Another cruel laugh. "Allow me to assist you."

He slid forward in his seat to maneuver you. Holding your waist with one servo, he used the other to arch you back, cradling your helm so you could see the aforementioned captive. It took a moment between the jostling and the reverse image to identify the bot, but you did indeed recognize them. Your former partner, before being taken captive.

'Primus... no.... don't look at me. You can't see me like this.'

At the angle Megatron was holding you, and judging by the look of shock on their faceplate, you imagined every sordid detail of this debauched deed was on display. You tried to fight the sensation he was subjecting you to, tried to ignore the delicious friction against your interior nodes as the Decepticon warlord skewered you over and over. The vulgar squelch of each lubricated thrust was punctuated by the moans they forced from your vocalizer.

'Stop... stop please!'

The sneering tyrant lifted your helm a little so you were looking back up at him, optics burning into you in a way that made you feel filthy.

"I'll make you a deal... tell me you want me to release you... and you're free to go. You and your... friend."

'What? No... he isn't serious? It's a trap. It has to be. He couldn't-ahh!'

Before the thought could even fully formulate his slid his claw through the abundance of fluid that had gathered around your entrance, flicking the node that was nestled just above. White hot pleasure shot through your processor, making your frame grow rigid, optics wide and unfocused as you tumbled ever closer to bliss.

"What are you waiting for?!"

The voice of your distressed ally was desperate and accusatory, and you scrabbled madly at the final shreds of your sanity, trying to make yourself form a reply.

Your captor's strokes became harder, deeper, his tone taunting as he hissed, "Yesss... what's stopping you? Say the words..."

Mouth dropping open, your only response was a hoarse shout, your attempts at articulation dying a swift and humiliating death.

"Say it!" he snapped, optics growing brighter, his knowing leer cutting into you like a blade of shame.

Yet sharper still was the promise of the ultimate, blinding pleasure you sought, the release he had kept from you for what felt like an eternity. So close, growing closer with every push and pull of his turgid length in your greedy little valve.

"Tell me to stop!"

"NO!!"

You didnt even have the decency to feel bad about giving in; no sooner had the refusal left your lip components than he gave you precisely what you needed. His thrust was so violent you thought for a nano-klik you might lose consciousness, but then overload ripped through you with all the force of a supernova, your scream so loud and ragged it rattled inside your helm. Megatron was quick to follow, his grip on you crushing as he seized, snarling his triumph.

Your body was lax as he removed himself from you before unceremoniously letting you slip from his servos to pool on the ground at his pedes. You couldn't even gather enough of your scattered wits to close your interface panel, unable to do much aside from twitch.

He glanced down at you with a raised brow ridge. "Pitiful."

Turning his attention to a subordinate, he instructed with a flippant wave, "Take them back to their cell."

A brief pause, punctuated by a chuckle.

"Be sure to prepare a cell adjacent to theirs as well for our newest... guest."

The gravity of what had just happened snapped into place in your suddenly very clear processor.

'Oh... frag.'