Megatron X Reader - Blog Posts

pillow talk | tfp!megatron x reader

A/N: y’all remember that scene in “partners” (s1e20) when airachnid was all like “we talk 😏” when referring to megatron? yeah, those two words inspired this fic.

summary: usually the moments after are quiet. this time it isn’t.

content: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, cybertronian!reader, gn!reader, developing (🤔) relationship, afterglow, implied smut, decepticon level flirtation tactics, a lil bit of roleplay? kinda?

word count: 1,362

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Keep reading

A - Z Megatron X Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: suggestive content

Megatron/AFAB Human Reader in which you find yourself the subject of his not-so-secret scrutiny

I is for Indignant

Megatron was not someone who could be described as discreet. Apart from his immense size and commanding presence - which in and of themselves made him impossible to ignore - his mannerisms were deliberate and unapologetic. You didn't think words like uncertain, embarassed, or bashful existed for him.

However, despite all these things, you were still surprised to catch him staring very openly at your tits one nondescript Thursday afternoon. It was a warm day, so you'd opted for a tanktop. It was form fitting without being overly tight, molding to the shape of your bust, and - as tanktops tended to do - exposed a fair bit of skin. The neckline, while not entirely scandalous, revealed at least two inches of cleavage... which was two inches more than you were suddenly comfortable with.

Snagging the top of your shirt, you pulled it up and over the soft swell of your breasts, hiding the inviting valley between them. His stare didn't waver, though he did narrow his optics as though the action displeased him. Alarmed that he had yet to look away, you cleared your throat loudly and pointedly, flustered blush turning into one of anger when even that did nothing to deter him.

"Can I help you?!"

Where you scrounge up the courage to call him out you'd never know, but the temporary adrenaline rush you got from doing so turns to complete shock when he finally does meet your gaze. The initial eye contact is jarring, despite the fact that that you've been on the receiving end of it before, but it's the slow smirk that creeps it's way across his fang filled mouth that really makes your heart rate double.

He offers no explanation, nor does he appear remorseful. If anything, he seems almost pleased with himself that he's caught you so off guard.

Your position as liaison has offered you the opportunity to work with several Cybertronians over the past year, and while you felt you had a pretty clear read on most of them, Megatron remained an unknown. Regardless of the terms placed and agreed upon by both factions that allowed this tenuous alliance to exist, there was no denying his predatory nature, and the healthy dose of caution that accompanied your meetings with him.

"Nervous?" he drawled. His tone was even, calculaing. His vivid red optics never left you as the exchange occurred, noting your reactions, weighing them. "I had thought we were past that point?"

Willing your hands not to shake, you clasp them behind you, regretting it when you realize the action has pushed your bust outward, drawing his stare once again. You reply with equal parts professionalism and snark, "Past the need for awkward greetings and pointless niceties perhaps, but not so familiar as to forego all sense of decorum, Lord Megatron."

He laughed a little at that. "And yet - given our positions - I suspect we will become far more... familiar with one another, in due time."

You had been ever present for the gradual shift in his feelings toward humankind, watching disdain morph into acceptance and then into begrudging intrigue. This newest change suggested far less 'grudge' and far more 'intrigue'... and you weren't quite sure which made you more anxious. His initial ire... or his current interest.

And it had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with the fact that this new development inspired unexpected reactions in you.

Opting not to reply to his obvious goad, you pry your eyes away from his, finding a very interesting spot to inspect on the wall to your right. You feel his gaze linger like a smoldering weight, and while you were never a gambler, you'd be willing to wager just about anything that if you did chance a look back in his direction, his optics would still be fixated to some of your more... feminine attributes.

'The heat in your cheeks is just indignation,' you tell yourself.

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.'

A - Z Megatron X Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: slavery, torture, asphyxiation

Megatron/Reader (You) in which you are an unlucky human who has caught the attention of a deranged alien warlord

G is for Gasp

Your eyes were burning, the vessels in them beginning to burst as the pressure continued to mount. Tears slipped past your lashes and streamed down your face into your hair, and you work your fingers vigorously against the unflinching metal grip that pins you in place. The effort is entirely fruitleas, nails chipping and tearing as you claw at your throat and the massive hand of your captor.

Well... fingers, really. Only two of them that he uses to keep you in place. It's been a small eternity, and now your vision is beginning to dim, your attempts to free yourself growing weaker... slower. Your body - lungs and brain deprived of oxygen - begins to shut down.

'Just do it already... kill me... please!'

You're unable to speak the words, so you mouth them, hoping he will see and understand... and have mercy on you.

He sees. He understands. But instead of freeing you from your pitiful mortal coil, he releases you, and air floods your lungs. You lurch violently up, gulping in a breath and turning onto your side as your body is racked with painful coughs. Several minutes seem to tick by as you splutter and wheeze, nose running and limbs shaking. All the while your tormentor watches closely, his expression pleased.

Finally, you settle, slow tears still pattering against the enormous hand he has you cradled in. If he minds, he doesn't say anything.

"Why?" you rasp, the word like razorblades in your throat.

His deep laughter is something you feel as it reverberates in the air around you, the smile that accompanies his mirth the furthest thing from pleasant.

"Because this planet is now mine, and I must find some value in its inhabitants... even if your only purpose is to amuse me with your suffering, I will make good use of you."

The cruel admission sent chills deep into the very marrow of your bones. You weren't told much when you first arrived here, but you did know you weren't the only human to be subjected to this monstrous giant's attentions. You were, however, the only one still alive. And - according to him - you had lasted longer than any of the others... a terrifying thought considering it had only been two weeks.

He liked you. You would never have considered such a thing but for the fact that another alien had told you as much. You were resilient, a trait he valued, apparently. And it would appear his intention was to see just how resilient you could be, as he put you through a plethora of 'experiments' to test your durability and spirit. He always seemed unaffected by your pleading, but positively delighted to watch you fight - despite the pointlessness of the act.

A horrified part of you wondered if he got off on it. If he even could 'get off'. Not that you wanted to find out.

You didn't flinch this time as he lifted his hand again, knowing what was coming next. Instead of wrapping his massive talons around your throat, the tip of one nudged you along the top of your head, ruffling your hair in a strange parody of what you believed was a 'head pat'. It was a pattern. He would call upon you at random, subject you to some form of torture, and then stroke you with a gentleness that belied his previous actions... like he was praising a pet for learning a new trick. It was all quite sick... and while you knew your suffering was over for the time being, a part of you wished he would accidentally drop you as he walked, the height of the fall surely enough to break your neck. At least that way, you didn't have to spend the following few days wondering what kind of perverse abuse he planned to subject you to next.

A - Z Megatron X Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: violence and death, cult-like mentality

Megatron/Reader (You) in which you are a zealous follower at the dawn of the war

F is for Fanatic

“This is madness!”

Your narrowed optics observe the old bot as he is restrained, hoisted upright to stand on trembling limbs. Members of his guard, those who remained alive, protested the rough handling through their muzzles. The one at your pedes attempted to rise, but you pulled him back down to the ground, glowering at him in warning.

“You call this madness… I call it justice.”

The room stilled at the deep utterance, the entrance of the Decepticon figurehead seeming to stop time. Unhurried steps carried him through the wreckage of what was once the doorway, across the glossy tiled floor until he towered over the detained mech.

“The masses will not stand for this attack,” came his somber reply.

“We are the masses,” Megatron bit out, fanged grin punctuating the statement. “We are the righteous, once chained by your ambitions, but no more. You will bear the culmination of our wrath.”

The weathered official shook his helm, the cables that framed his faceplate swaying as he insisted, “The Council has agreed that the castes be disbanded. Is this not what you want?! The Prime will-”

“The Prime,” he interrupted, reaching out to clamp his talons over the old bot’s mouth, “does not speak for us. He has never lived as we have, never suffered at the servos of the Council. If you truly thought, Ambassador, that we would be satisfied with such a representative, you are a fool.”

You snarled in agreement, ramming your blaster into the helm of the mech at your pedes.

Megatron releasied the envoy, turning as he began to circle the room. He addressed his followers. “From the beginning, they've treated us as though we are nothing. It is the wreckage of our bodies that feeds their machine, our energon that fuels this planet.”

His every step is measured, towering frame casting its shadow upon all as he passes by. “And peace… peace is what they offer to appease us when we finally come to collect. An insincere apology for the horrors we’ve endured.”

He stops before you, and elation dances along your circuits as your gaze meets his. “What say you to that? Do you want their peace?”

“No!” the word all but leaps from your vocalizer, echoed by the thunderous cry of your brethren.

The silver titan turned to face the subdued old mech yet again, claws splayed at the demonstration. “And there you have it. We will take what is owed to us. And it starts with you.”

Pulling himself into as straight a pose as his aged frame could manage, he accused, “You are no savior, Megatron. You are nothing but a criminal. You claim to want to free your people, but the tyranny you offer in place of the caste system is no different.”

His laughter was deep, slow as he approached his prisoner, talons sliding into a fist as he unsheathed the blade from his gauntlet. “My tyranny, as you call it, will shape this world into greatness. A world in which all bots have the freedom to choose. I have plucked us from the cesspit of despair we have been forced to toil in. I have opened the optics of this planet’s inhabitants to the corruption of the High Council and the upper castes. Decadent, gluttonous vermin leeching profit from our suffering. There is only one way this can end. We take what we are owed and shatter every remnant of the old ways. Either you stand with us to realize this vision, or…” he drawled, lifting the weapon to rest upon his enemy’s shoulder plating. “You stand in our way.”

He took a moment to look around at the subdued guards. “The choice is yours now. Stand with us to dismantle the system of oppression that has gripped Cybertron for too long…. or face your end here and now.”

When no one responded, the large mech took a sweeping glance at his followers, nodding once. Blaster charging, you pressed it into the base of your captive’s helm, awaiting the final call. Righteous anger barreled through your lines. How they could continue to stand with these… monsters, after everything they were responsible for?! How could they not see the depravity of their world as it was? How desperately they needed to be cleansed. And cleanse them you would. This entire, filthy planet would be delivered from its wrongdoings by the only mech who was fit to rule it. You watched with mounting anticipation as your master lifted his blade.

“Decepticons, our time is now!”

His cut was clean and precise, and the Ambassador’s lifeless husk was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. The outraged cries of his guard were silenced shortly after with a barrage of gunfire. You smiled down at the smoking hole in the back of your captive’s helm before curling your servo into a fist and lifting it into the air.

“All hail Megatron!”

A - Z Megatron X Reader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mild swearing

Megatron/Reader (You) in which you are a human who is far too curious for your own good

E is for Eyebrows

As surreptitiously as possible, you glance at him again from the corner of your eye as he spoke to Optimus, watching raptly as the jagged ridges that adorned his helm rose and fell. You had long since given up trying to decipher how Cybertronian 'eyebrows' were able to move freely without any notable joints. It was mind boggling, but eventually you had made peace with the fact that it was likely some aspect of their anatomy that you – as a human – were completely unaware of.

And while all Cybertronians that you had met thus far had these brow ridges, for some very absurd reason, your brain decided to fixate upon his. It might have been because of the fact that he wasn't a being you had been exposed to much prior to this temporary alliance, but you had a niggling suspicion it was the fact that he was dangerous that made it fascinating to watch him, thrilling even. Like getting in the water with a great white shark…

You scoffed a little at yourself as you turn away for a moment to glance at the papers in your hands. 'Didn't anyone ever tell you curiosity killed the cat?'

You heard Optimus' heavy steps as he retreated further into the bunker, looking up once more. Megatron was still there… and he was staring straight at you. You pale and look away instantly, trying to busy yourself with reading. His ominous steps rumbled the very foundations of the base, and to your horror you realize they are growing nearer. You slam your eyes shut, and when the thunderous footfalls stop, you know he's there… right there, a scarce handful of yards from you. Swallowing, you force yourself to open your eyes, your stomach dropping when you note the entire platform you are standing upon is now draped in a massive shadow. You're rethinking the whole 'shark' theory at this point, knowing fully well they rarely attacked people, and when they did it was almost always because you'd been mistaken for a seal or a turtle. This being… would not hesitate to crush you into a fleshy paste without an ounce of remorse.

You don't know whether to look up or not, which would seem like the greater insult?

"You've been watching me."

The knowing statement takes you by surprise, and without meaning to you lift your head and meet his gaze… only to freeze like a deer in headlights. His mouth is twisted into a sneer, his teeth sharp and vicious looking. Those, however, were definitely very shark like.

"Why?"

Its not a question… its a demand. The seconds tick by and his optics narrow… though one of those damned eyebrows inches upward. You decide to tell him the truth. Licking your lips, you take a steadying breath. "Y-Your eyebr-err, brow ridges. They're just… really emotive. It's… interesting."

He seems to study you, gauging your sincerity, you imagine. Eventually he realizes you are being truthful, his expression irritated… disgusted almost. Like someone who found a hair in their soup… not that Cybertronians had hair… or knew what soup was…

Suddenly he turns and walks away from you, in the direction Optimus had gone. You release the breath you'd been holding, gasping in relief. That was far too close for comfort. When his clipped voice reaches you from across the room - a terse command to cease - you don't need to be told twice. You nod vigorously and look back at your papers, muttering a quiet apology.

Your frazzled brain tries to sort out the tumult of sensations and thoughts running through your body. You feel like you're going to throw up and piss yourself and faint all at once. Thankfully you do none of that, and after some deep breathing manage to regain a measure of composure… though the shaking in your limbs doesn't subside. And yet… despite the fact that his command had held a clear hint of threat, your stupid human brain and its morbid curiosity pokes at you to look over at him yet again. Shaking away the foolhardy urge, you tell yourself firmly, 'No more poking the bear.'

I would be hard pressed not to stare. I'm the person who runs into a wolf and tries to pet it… so this is right up my alley.

A - Z Megatron X Reader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mentions of injury/insinuated death

Megatron/Reader (You) in which you are an unlucky subordinate

D is for Deception

Your intakes fill with smoke as you struggle through the smoldering wreckage, vents sputtering and failing. Declining vitals flash across your HUD, and you grimace as you are faced with the severity of your condition.

Pressurization dropping - energon levels: 76%… 74%...70%

Ventilation systems: offline

Functionality: 53%

Assessment: severe damage to upper right quadrant

-plating separation

-fuel lines ruptured

-bearing dislocation

Stasis induction was imminent if you didn’t find help soon, and considering the state of your surroundings, you had doubts that anyone in the immediate vicinity was in any condition to be treating others.

A figure appeared through the curtains of black smoke that surrounded you, and hope fluttered in your spark as the outline became a familiar silhouette. Waving, you called out. “Over here!”

The Decepticon figurehead stepped through the flames that continued to lick at the rubble, followed shortly thereafter by a handful of his other subordinates. They stopped shy of you, and his red optics fell upon your prone frame in a leisurely, sweeping glance.

Something… didn’t feel right. Why weren’t they helping you? “Please, my Lord… I need aid.”

The words draw his attention back to your face, and he smiles. It’s an odd mixture of pity and something sinister, and it makes your spark waver a little.

“My apologies. It was not my intent to cause you undue suffering. I’d assumed the initial blast would offline you instantly.”

Your optics narrow into pinpricks as the implications of his words sink in.

“I must say, I’m impressed by your fortitude.”

Shaking your helm slowly as you attempt to process what is happening, you stammer, “Wh… why? I don’t understand… I gave so much for you… for the cause!”

The imposing mech rolled a spiked pauldron, shifting his immense weight as he stepped ever closer. “Simply put, your usefulness to me has run out, and you have become a liability. I cannot afford liabilities.”

Your vitals continue to flash, your state growing ever more dire as you attempt to push yourself away from him, but with only one functioning servo, it’s nearly impossible. The dead weight of your useless arm makes the struggle all the more difficult, and when you look up and see him standing directly over you… you know there’s no escaping.

“You lied to me.”

He grins, and the cannon on his arm hums to life as he takes aim. The heat of it sears your face, but you dare not look away as he positions himself over your mangled frame.

“Nothing personal… I hope you understand.”

There is something terribly wrong with me for enjoying this lunatic so much…

A - Z Megatron X Reader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mentions of death, alien blood

Megatron/Reader(You) as an onlooker in the crowd at the Pits of Kaon

C is for Champion

Your optics watch as he pushes himself up to his full, glorious height, the body of his most recent opponent lifeless at his pedes. His wounds seep a steady stream of energon, but he doesn’t let it deter him. The frenzied din of the crowd slowly dies down, until everyone is on the edge of their seat, waiting for him to speak.

His voice breaks the silence like the coming of a storm.

“Brothers… sisters… for too long we’ve suffered, neglected in this festering waste of a city, cast aside by those who call themselves our betters. For too long they’ve reaped the benefits of our labor while we rust and perish! But no more...”

Your spark pulses a little harder at the promise in those words… a promise for something better. A change that was long overdue.

The gladiator gazed upon his audience, lifting his servos as he went on, “Soon there will come a time when the High Council will be made to face justice for the crimes they have committed. When that time comes… you will all need to make a choice. Will you stand with us, when we rise to fight for our freedoms?”

The collective voice of the crowd cried out in affirmation.

“Will you stand with us, when we take our plight to their doorstep?”

Again the crowd responded with a rallying cry, growing louder and more sure.

The silver behemoth curled his digits into fists. “Will you stand with us, when we shatter this system of oppression?!”

By this point everyone was on their pedes, and again the arena erupted into cheers. You were no exception, your gaze never wavering from the proud figure that stood at the center of it all. His words never failed to inspire, and as the thundering chant of his name grew and grew to the point where you were sure that it echoed through every crevice and corner of Kaon, you let yourself hope that he was the champion you all needed.

I can genuinely empathize with Megatron during this portion of his life. As someone who is an avid supporter of human rights movements, I imagine I would have been right there in the crowd, chanting along with everyone else.

A - Z Megatron X Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: violence and death, innuendo, destruction

Megatron/Reader(You) as a neutral during the war 

B is for Begging

You pushed with every ounce of strength left in you at the massive slab of debris that pinned you in place, cringing when it shifted minimally, revealing how severe the damage to your leg was. Plating was cracked and curled, pulled away from the mesh and cables beneath, all of which looked severed and mangled. It was hard to tell if it was salvageable with energon pooling so quickly in the wound,  making it impossible to properly assess. Your helm was spinning, vision flickering as you came dangerously close to passing out. You shook yourself and continued to push, knowing that going into stasis now would result in you draining out.

Primus it hurt, so fragging much!

Nowhere was safe anymore, war creeping across the planet faster than a rust plague. All around you came the sounds of others as they stumbled through the wreckage, along with the ever present siren that blared in the distance. Your called out for help as you continued to attempt freeing the trapped appendage.

Suddenly there was a sharp cry, followed by the panicked scrambling and screams of many other bots. From your place on the ground, you pushed yourself up minimally, peering over the mound of rubble to see what was happening. Your spark nearly stopped as you saw the soldiers, noted the insignia that decorated their frames.

Decepticons.

Snapping your mouth shut, you threw yourself back down, trying to control your shaking as you were forced to listen to them mercilessly gun down civilians. Soon enough there were no more voices, only the shuffle of pedesteps and the shifting of debris as they searched for other survivors. Several kilks passed in aching slowness, and for a brief, glimmering moment you hoped they would miss you, until a soft, whispering hum drew nearer. You gaped in horror as a small airborne figure flew overhead, stopping as it noticed you. The creature let out a low whir, and soon after a dark, angular mech appeared from the same direction, pausing to look down at you. You shivered, noting the way he moved nearly soundlessly, and the visor that concealed his face. The little deployer hovered closer before returning to its larger host, fixing itself neatly against his chest plating.

He turned away from you, making no move to attack. You hadn’t the time to feel relieved as the sound of another approaching made you instantly queasy, your tank churning at their heavy steps rocked the very ground beneath you. When his hellish red optics met yours... you knew in an instant who you were looking at. You’d seen his likeness portrayed everywhere since before the war had even started, but there was nothing that could’ve prepared you for this. Seeing him in person, here, in front of you, sent fear like you’d never known into every inch of your frame.

He assessed you for a moment, scanning you for what you could only assume was an insignia of your own. When he found none he scowled. It was no secret he despised neutrals, some might argue even more than he despised Autobots. He found their unwillingness to participate in the war cowardly. When he reached down you thought for certain you were done for, but then he grabbed hold of the debris holding you in place and lifted it with ease. While the fact you were no longer being crushed was a positive development, the instant the pressure on your leg disappeared the circulation of energon began anew, spurting from your wound and bringing with it a whole new wave of pain.

You hissed, reaching up to clutch at your leg and fumbling to stifle the flow. His massive servo slipped around your neck a moment later, hoisting you off the ground. You released the injury to pry futilely at his digits as they began to tighten, optics going wide as you realized his intent. Your frame dangled from his grasp, one functioning leg kicking in a pitiful fashion as he began to crush you.

“P-Please!!” you whimpered.

He laughed deeply. “There is no room for indecision in a war.”

Your struggles did not seem to hinder him in the slightest, the enormous mech watching your plight with twisted satisfaction. Again you pleaded, “No! I don’t w-want to offline. Please! Please stop!”

His grip tightened ever so slightly, and you cried out as you felt the sharp edges of his claws slice the cabling of your neck.

“Are you prepared to become of use to me?”

The only thing you could think of in that moment was survival, and you gave a weak nod. His grin was sinister, as he turned and deposited you in the servos of two soldiers. Megatron nodded to the slightly smaller mech at his side, whose visor flashed a series of coordinates before a groundbridge opened up just a ways ahead.

“Ensure this one is taken to our medic immediately. They are in need of repair.”

As you’re hauled away, he speaks to you once more, his words ominously low. “Let’s see how sweetly you can beg when you’re functioning at full capacity.”

A part of you wishes you’d just let him off you.

A - Z Megatron x Reader Series

Part one of my A-Z reader/Megatron drabble challenge. There’s a little something in here for all tastes, though many of these are going to be graphic in one way or another. Ratings will be posted for each installation, as will warnings, so please read them to avoid anything you might not want to see.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: sexual situations

Megatron/Reader(You) in the role of his subordinate: mild bondage, sticky interfacing, Megatron being an a**hole, kinda/sorta manipulation and dubious consent.

A is for Arch

“Higher.”

“My lord, I-I can’t.”

“I don’t want your excuses. I said… higher.”

Bent over the railing, servos secured behind your back, you could hardly move. Still, disobeying an order was not something that would go unpunished, so you pressed your weight into the bar and pushed  up onto the very tips of your pedes, backstrut curving up to an almost impossible angle.

“Better.”

The pleased timbre of his voice sent shivers along your circuits, so you held the position, jaw clenching as you fought to maintain it. Steady digits traced up the back of your tibulen with agonizing slowness, drawing nearer and nearer to your interface panel. A frustrated hiss slipped from your vocal processor as he bypassed the region, large servos cupping your hip plating.

“Open.”

Eager paneling parted without hesitation. The lubricant that had been gathering there for some time slips out, streaming down the inside of your right tasset. You hear him kneel behind you, tense as his glossa traces the wet trail upward to the joint of your leg and chassis, where the deadly points of his denta nip none-too-gently at the cabling there. A slight chirp escapes you, and he chuckles menacingly as he pulls himself to his full, towering height once more. You hear the metallic slide of his spike casing retract, feel the blunt tip of him as he presses into your valve. Helm tilting, you look up at him as he leans over you, placing his servos on the wall above as he angles his hips forward, spearing you onto the length of his spike. Pressed tightly against the railing, you cannot withdraw, and are forced to seat him fully in one hard stroke. A startled cry is lodged in your voice box, optics widening in shock at the mixture of pleasure and pain. You think to yourself that – while you’d hated his teasing at the time – you were certainly glad for it now. Being any less lubricated would have no doubt resulted in the severe tearing of your lining, and given the intense look he wore you doubted your lord would have bothered to stop even if that had been the case.

Megatron gives you only a second to adjust before withdrawing and surging forward again, his powerful thrust coupled with his superior size lifting you straight off the ground, your aft cradled perfectly in the curve of his pelvic plating. This time a shout manages to escape, along with a string of unintelligible gibberish as your master quite literally rails the sense out of you.

Given that you’re servos are bound and your pedes are no longer on the floor, you can do little else but feel as the war machine behind you brings you to heights of sensation you’ve never experienced and then proceeds to smash right through the ceiling and keep on going. You don’t know how many times you overload before he finally tenses against you, spike pulsing as he reaches his own peak.

There is a moment of silence before he steps away, and you slide rather gracelessly off the railing and onto the ground, his transfluid and your lubricant puddling beneath your shaking frame. Horrified, you scramble to rise, trying your best not to slip in it. When you finally do manage to stand, Megatron steps behind you and pinches the bonds holding your servos, disabling them and storing the device away in his subspace before he shoots you a stern look and orders, “Clean this up and return to your duties.”

Flustered and disoriented, you stammer, “Y-yes, my liege!” You couldn’t even find the decency to care about how terribly he treated his subordinates as you knelt to do just that, your processor helpfully reminding you that no one… and I mean no one, fragged like Megatron.

Megatron's Tramp-stamp thoughts?

Megs with a tramp-stamp...🤤

In my honest opinion, Megatron is totally a MILF, so him having a tramp-stamp makes so much sense. Just imagine him being this terrifying, all-powerful warlord, hell-bent on getting his way, crushing everyone who dares to oppose him with a little help from his fusion cannon...

Now imagine that same Megatron, with a new frame update, making him stronger than he previously was, much sturdier... and much more appealing with a new decepticon tramp-stamp.

As he makes his grand entrance into the main deck of the Nemesis after his new frame change, Megs has a smirk on his face; he knows that every con in the room can feel a new air about him, can feel a newfound power thrumming through his powerlines. Little does he know, most of the decepticons are gawking, more focused on at the tramp-stamp decorating their leader's backside.

Everytime he moves, his wide hips make that damn tramp-stamp move back and forth, a near mesmerizing thing. It makes it much easier for mechs to pay attention to his repeated, tiresome speeches on how they'll take down the autobots. Well, more like they're laser-focused on how the tattoo moves so fluidly along with his back and forth pacing and how much longer they can stare without getting their helm blown off.

Megatron doesn't get the big deal about it anyway. It was just a little additive that he thought was nice, but he knew how easily things like this could get mechs riled up, especially how inconceivable it seemed on mechs like him. He uses it to his advantage too, knowing that having soldiers that were incredibly down bad for him would strengthen their loyalty and in turn, ensure that less defect to those disgusting autobots. Much more effective than putting them on The List. Though if it was so easy to make the decepticons stay loyal to him, maybe he could entice powerful autobots to abandon their cause...

Don't mind the fact that I'm posting again a month later😋

TF Titty Headcanons Pt. 2

❏* — warnings — sub/bottom characters(decepticons) + dom/top reader + robotitties + lactation + praise + boobjobs + masochism + piercings + Starscream is a narcissist + size kink + mommy kink + breeding kink + Megatron definitely rewards his top soldiers with his body + in this world you're either a creamer or squirter +

❏* — a/n — pt 1 got so much positive feedback so I'm just happy that I was able to do a part 2!! And if I do a part 3 I'll most likely do the autoboobies again

also omfg I wrote

➾ DECEPTICONS

✦ Megatron - Contrary to popular belief, Megs has average sized boobs for a mech his size, but they still seem pretty damn huge to most since not many mechs are his size. That is until you compare them to another mech's like Optimus (say whatever you want but Optimus outboobs Megatron). Megs doesn't care too much about his tits, seeing them as just protoform sitting on his chassis, but he does like to have them played with once in a while.

Megatron only interfaces with his top soldiers, and even only the best of the best get to see their lord's magnificent rack. When he does 'face with them, he always orders them to treat him like any other mech they would fuck, the feeling of being treated like a fling always getting to his head. Despite how meaningless his refineries are to him, his partners see them as an absolute blessing. The lucky shmuck who's not only able to be graced with the sight of Megs' boobs and also being able to feel them up will never forget it. His tits have a subtle softness to them that's fucking amazing, perfect for shoving their helm into. Megatron is surprising pretty vocal, letting out gruff moans whenever his tits are fondled with. And every single time, without fail, his crimson optics will be locked onto his partner's as if he were teasing them.

Something the Megs is very willing to do is give boobjobs to his decepticons that are doing an exceptionally good job at taking down any autobot forces. He'll reward them by lifting his tits up and down the mech's shaft, keeping eye contact as his optics are blazing with unspent charge. And if Primus themself has blessed a mech, they'll be treated to Megatron lavishly sprawled across a wide berth, clutching the sheets as a spike ruts into him, striking as many nodes as possible with greedy servos all over his tits, feeling them as much as they can. Megatron's optics dim as he shivers from the pleasure of having his subordinate treat him as just some random fling. His vocalizer releases moans becoming slightly higher pitched the more his nozzles are twisted and pulled on and he just can't wait to do this again.

✦ Soundwave - With the decepticon third-in-command may be hiding many secrets about himself, his tits are most definitely one of those secrets. Soundwave's tits are big and busty, a more gray color. He's one of the few mechs who actually lactate, and when he does, it's usually not too much energon but it can leave his tits feeling very sensitive. He's usually able to deal with it himself, but when it gets too much those are the times he'll seek out partners the most.

Everyone who's slept with Soundwave have the same exact thoughts. He has the best tits they've ever come across. Soundwave doesn't think too much of his boobs, yet whenever people get to feel them up and lap up any energon leaking, they'll never want to go back to drinking energon normally again. Mechs who get to feed off of Soundwave's leaking titties always grope them slowly with their servos, massaging them nicely as they coax more energon out. Usually, Soundwave turns his vocalizer off since he isn't too fond of making noise from pleasure, but it's so obvious how good he's feeling when his whole entire frame is trembling and the way he tries to sneakily press his digits into his leaking valve.

Whenever Soundwave begins to lactate and has a mech sucking on his nozzle, he can't help but feel something maternal in his code to get sparked up by anyone suitable, to have transfluid pumping into his forge, to carry sparklings that'll one day need to feed from him too. When he gets like this, he becomes more shameless when interfacing, doing everything in his power to get the mech pumping their spike into him to pump in a heavy load of transfluid too. He'll do everything he needs to do, whether it be tightening his valve callipers, rocking his hips back into thrusts more, or pushing his tits further into his partner's faceplate. As long as it'll result in transfluid spills into his forge he'll be happy. And he won't be satiated with just one overload. Even when his partner needs a break from fucking, he'll just find himself on top of them, working his servo up and down their shaft before it retracts as he strakes them back to full pressurization, just before sinking back down on it all over again.

✦ Starscream - Starscream has slightly smaller than average titties, but in his opinion, it's the shape that matters, and not the size. He's very right about that when it comes to his tits. His tits are a dark grey that match his face and are perky with a surprising amount of bounce to them.

As the #1 narcissist of all Cybertronians, Screamer absolutely prizes his boobs. While he might start angrily huffing when his tits are fondled by his partners, it's all a farce. He's an absolute slut for having his boobs played with. Whenever he's self servicing, while his digits are busy circling his node, his other servo is gliding over his cockpit, sliding upwards until he feels soft and sensitive protoform. He lets out soft pants, his plump lips falling open as his optics narrow to slits-- he would never get tired of it.

Whenever Screamer's partners want to touch his tits, he always snaps at them, saying some shit about they're too perfect for them to dirty with their servos, yet he can feel his valve throb at the thought. The only times Screamer doesn't allow his partner to touch his tits is when they're his size, but he might let them if they grovel. But when it's a mech much bigger than him? It's a whole other story. He would die before saying out loud but he's addicted to having big, warm servos on his tits, dwarfing them as they manhandle them with ease, pinching his nozzles with flat digits pads or just giving them a nice, long squeeze that'll have him struggling to not moan like a pleasurebot.

With his larger partners, without them even needing to ask, he's already in their lap, legs wrapped around their waist as his chassis transforms away and reveals his rack. He arches his back so that his tits are pressed onto his partner's frame and looks at them with a knowing smirk-- he knows they won't be able to resist. It always ends with him letting out shrill cries of pleasure, truly living up to his name as his his valve is drilled into and his tits are thoroughly abused.

✦ Skywarp - As the resident Nemesis Fragbuddy™️, it's no surprise that Warp has bigger than average tits. His tits are light gray and have big, perky nozzles that are always begging to be pulled on. He owns crystal and metal pink barbell nozzle piercings that are (unsurprisingly) always seen gleaming on his nozzles. Skywarp's an absolute masochist, loving the feeling of his tits being roughly fondled or bitten down so hard he leaks energon. Warp fucks his way around on the Nemesis looking for not only the best mech to fuck him but also someone with hands big and skilled enough mess with his tits the way he likes it. He isn't really a big fan of having his boobs softly caressed and massaged-- he need them to be -- he wants his tits to be absolutely bruised, aching and possibly even bleeding when his partner is done. It's the only way to get off by playing with his tits.

Since Warp has slept with a lot of the decepticon crew and is a kinky fucker, he's definitely had some interesting things done to his boobs. He's had people bring magnets close to his nozzle piercings, forcing his piercings to follow and tug on his nozzles until he's squealing. Skywarp's given plenty of boobjobs too, sandwiching a spike between his pillowy tits as he rubs them up and down his partner's shaft and if he's lucky to have a partner bigger than him, their spike will reach past his cleavage and find its way into his already drooling intake.

His favorite thing ever is to have his tits roughed up while someone's banging up his valve. Just having a nice, thick spike plowing him is more than enough to get him off, but having a mech bite down on his nozzles, pulling on the piercing as the other hand mercilessly gropes his soft mesh? He'll for sure be an incoherent mess, optics rolling back as he's giggling stupidly from the pleasure wracking his frame.

✦ Thundercracker - Despite this seeker's standoffish, slightly prudish behavior when it comes to the discussion of interfacing, and his truly romantic personality, he has a huge rack hiding behind his armor. Out of all of his trine, Thundercracker's boobs are the biggest, bounciest, and the most attractive. Screamer and Skywarp are so totally jealous of him but truth be told, TC would definitely trade his with theirs anytime. He found it a nuisance to have such soft protometal sitting on his chest and the sensitivity that comes with it. They're just so soft and flimsy, making it so much easier to grope them with wandering servos and watch as the sensitive protometal nearly spills out between digit gaps. And it's exactly what other mechs think of them.

Thundercracker hates to admit it, but would die to have someone worship his tits, pinch his nozzles and bring one into their intake, murmuring on the soft mesh about how fucking perfect his boobs are. TC's face would be so flushed, coolant dripping down his faceplate while he tries to keep his cute moans from escaping his vocalizer. The sweet praises would go to his head and he 100% will melt into the touch of his partner if they did that, maybe even hook a leg around their waist and beg for them to fuck him already before he's overloading already, creaming around nothing while his needy valve clenches pathetically on a spike that isn't there.