Your gateway to endless inspiration
Rating: T
Warnings: suggestive content
Megatron/AFAB Human Reader in which you find yourself the subject of his not-so-secret scrutiny
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.
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
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.'
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
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.
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
“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!”
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…
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.
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.