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talesfromlissom · 11 months ago

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BASELINE URGES // TFA! MEGATRON X READER // NSFW/VALVEPLUG WARNING

SUMMARY - The Allspark gives Megatron a gestation chamber, which warframes are not supposed to have. He’s going to break your array at this rate.

WARNINGS/TAGS - Valveplug, Megatron being an asshole, is it a breeding kink if 'god' told you to make babies??

“Put a sparkling into my gestation chamber or so help me, Primus, I will throw your offlined frame out of the closest airlock.”

Silence crept between you, and your mouth opened, closed, and opened again. Your face scrunches up, hands resting at your hips while you lean forward a bit, “Yes, hello (Y/N). How have you been since I’ve been dead for the past 50 years, my sweet…loving…beautiful conjunx–” “Kiss me.” “No. Where in the pits have you been?!” You exclaim. “Everyone thought you were dead for the past 50 years, then you show up, and the first thing you tell me is that you want a damn bitlet?!”

Megatron’s face twists, his optics narrowing as a low growl emits from his throat, “Stop being foolish. We can have a conversation about logistics later. All you need to know is that I’m back, and I want an heir.”

“You’re such an aft.” And then you kiss him with anything but gentleness. It was rough, demanding, and Megatron wasn’t entirely sure what else, but you were also so damn angry. He could feel the hot rage dripping off of your frame as your EM field slammed against his own. It's like a thousand tiny knives, but he doesn’t care. You're shoving him into the wall, and apparently, you’re not pissed enough to say no to fragging him within half of a processor. At this point he feels as if this is more something you’re doing out of annoyance rather than actually wanting to make a damn sparkling, “Dolt, frag me already.” He mutters half-heartedly and kisses you again.

You aren’t even surprised when Megatron wraps his legs around your waist, arms grasping at your shoulders. You yelp when he suddenly chomps down on your glossa, head wrenching back and baring your teeth, “Don’t bite me,” You snap, wagging a finger at him as if he were a child. “Be patient.” You kiss him again. “And I don’t think you’d offline me anyways; you’d miss me too much.”

Megatron clicks his teeth at this, grinding his pelvis into your own with a toothy grin. His HUD is already alerting him of his lubrication sequence starting, his cooling fans working over maximum velocity, and a random message from Shockwave that he ignores. Your frame is hot to the touch, scalding even, and yet neither of you seems to care despite the air in the closet already starting to heat up.

“I’d miss your array, but do not worry, dear,” He muses, leaning his head into your neck, nibbling on cables and energon lines.”I’d cut it from your corpse and put it to good use.”

You stop your movement, staring down at him with a wrinkled faceplate. You trip over your own words, mouth opening and closing a few times before you shake your head, “There’s something seriously wrong with you.” Megatron rolls his optics before his modesty plating snaps back, valve already slick, but he doesn’t hold back the grunt when you unceremoniously shove two fingers inside of him, scissoring him open. Not that much preparation was needed; he knew you were coming long before you yourself did, “And yet you decided to become my conjunx endura, so I believe there is something seriously wrong with you, my dear–” He growls lowly when your fingers hit his interior node, face scrunching up.

“Don’t growl at me with my digits inside of you,” You grumble, eyes narrowing to look down at his pinched expression. “I think you’re supposed to say ‘thank you’.”

“I’ll do as I please, you pompous aft!” Megatron snaps, but he doesn’t push you off either, not that he would anyway. You hit that spot again; his back arches, and a low moan leaves his lips. “You–!”

His claws dig into your shoulders, and you know fairly well that your fellow Decepticons will ask you many questions. Your relationship was no secret at this point, though. He squirms in your grip, especially since your digits keep hitting that spot, “You little minx,” Megatron rasps, calipers clenching down on your fingers. “You’re doing–doing that on purpose!”

“Maybe.” You muse, feeling your armor starting to dent under how harshly his hands are grasping at you. You’ll have claw marks on your back at this rate, but you’ll wear them with pride. At least for two hours before Megatron gets embarrassed and orders you to buff your frame. “Stop squirming; how are we gonna make a sparkling if you keep squirming?” The question is mostly just you thinking out loud. Megatron is squirming because he’s enjoying it. He’s arching his back, biting down on your shoulder, plating to muffle his noises. He doesn’t bottom often, but when he does, it's always something that you save to your hard drives for…other things. Of course, you’d never tell him that. You’re sure he’d be flattered to know that you jerk off to him, but he’d probably also be pissed that you’re pleasuring yourself without him there. He’s jealous of your own hand, apparently.

You waste no time in prepping him, pulling your digits out, which have become coated in a thin layer of pink lubricant. You wipe your fingers on your thigh, lifting Megatron’s valve above your waiting spike. It’s pulsing, pre-fluid forming at its tip while it twitches. You feel Megatron shiver when he sinks down, just an inch at first.

His chest is heaving, a loud gasp leaving his lips when gravity takes hold. His back arches, and he can’t help it either. This is his first time in a long time. But your spike is hitting all the right places, his calipers are expanding, his HUD is lighting up, and his frame just wants more more more—

“Megatron?” You blurt out, grunting when Megatron’s hips buck, trying to take more of your length. He feels so good around your spike, so familiar and so damn warm.

Megatron can feel the burn from so many nodes firing off at once, and he grits his teeth, hands trying to push you down while his face flushes, “Give me control,” He pants, and you can’t bite back a frown. Not this again. “I am the–the lord of the Decepticons-” Megatron grabs your jaw, yanking your head down to look him in the eyes, “You’re making me—I look like a fragging fool.”

“Oh, for primus sake–?!” You go to say before he pushes himself off of the wall. Your back hits the floor, and Megatron doesn’t even get the chance to lift his hips up in a sorry attempt to ride you. You roll to the side. You know damn well that he’s adjusted to your spike if he’s doing this, and you waste no time to start jerking your hips.

You don’t say anything; the closet is filled with downright lewd-sounding squelches, cooling fans, your own breaths, and the various annoyed bleats that fall from Megatron’s mouth. You can’t help but lift his legs up, knees slapping against his shoulders. You drive your spike deeper into his valve, and you can feel the seal of Megatron’s gestation chamber hitting your tip. Not that it matters; it’s getting dissolved anyway, “You wanted a sparkling, didn’t you?”

Megatron just groans, head rolling to the side while his face twists in pleasure. His cooling fans are stuttering with how hot his frame is, and he’s almost tempted to shout at you again. The pressure builds up, and when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is a meek-sounding whimper. He pants, chest rising and falling, his optics screwed shut while his fingers dig into the metal floor beneath his frame. He goes to say something else, but he just moans again.

You’re seconds from overload at this rate, and if Megatron keeps clenching down on your length, it might happen sooner rather than later. Megatron lets out a mixture of a yell and a moan, valve clenching down as his overload travels across his frame. Your hand slaps onto his mouth when you hear voices down the hallway, and his own hand grips at your arm. You’re still fucking him through it, soft, jack rabbit-like thrusts; you grit your teeth, forehead resting on his shoulder when your own overload hits. Transfluid coating Megatron’s insides, all that Megatron does is groan quietly before he shoves your hand off of his mouth.

“A warning could have been nice,” Megatron muses. “I sincerely hope that this works. We can try–what are you doing?”

You aren’t really surprised when you promptly pick Megatron up and he doesn’t even try to struggle. Megatron's breath was labored still, valve twitching, along with various other parts of his frame.

“I am taking you back to your quarters. We’re going to take a bath, and then we’re going to talk,” you reply. “About the sparkling?” “About everything.”

“No. I’m tired.”

The second that you enter his quarters, he’s already gone into an angry ramble about some planet called Earth. You find that you hate it just as much as he does. And once that ramble is done, he demands you two interface again. And again, and again.

By the fourth round, he can’t even move, and you’re purring into his neck for a few moments before muttering, “Did you miss me, or is this really just about having an heir?” “An heir,” He huffs, though when he turns his head away and scrunches his face up, a telltale sign that he’s lying. He doesn’t do it around anyone normally, but he’s exhausted, it seems. “Nothing else. Again.”

“Dear, you’re going to break my spike.”

“Okay? Get a new one. Again.”

You just sigh but move between his thighs once more, regardless. You’re not really complaining anyway. You’ll yell at him for being his usual self later.

WORD COUNT - 1.6K