Your gateway to endless inspiration
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…