#my megatron kink

[transingthoseformers]

We do not get enough megaratch where Ratchet takes one look at Megatron and goes "oh you NEED someone to have a firm hand with you don't you?"

This also applies to ships including someone else too

Because I just got the image of Ratchet dealing with Megatron who's purposefully misbehaving and Optimus playing the good boy, and all three are having such a wonderful time

[chunkytron]

First Fattytron of the year!!

This was meant to be done for my birthday (December 11) but I got busy and didn't have time to finish it. So happy late birthday to me lol.

Anyway im super happy of the shading and pose. Mostly proud of that tummy too lol.

Idk what an oil cake looks like so take this energon cake

[wyrm-with-a-why]

Bayverse Megatron could void his waste tanks on me and I'd thank him

Ugh me too babe(especially his tlk form like mm mm mm)

You think you can beat me anon but you’ll never win I’m sillier than you

[quetzalpapalotl]

While I think Megatron should get to desecrate the Matrix as a sex thing, @lord-squiggletits refuses to put that in the fic because "Optimus wouldn't let him do that"

[tinydefector]

Human's effects

More a silly little thing that I had to write out.

Warnings: talks about sex, xenophilia, kinks

Word count: 3k

Request are open

____

There were a lot of things that fascinated the cybertronians over humans. Their size, body types, skin tones and those soft they are. 

So many of them become so fascinated over the fact that such small and fragile creatures don't have plating to protect themselves but only wear soft fabrics. 

And it slowly leads a lot of Cybertronians to realising they were Xenophiles. 

A list of kinks and fetishes cybertronians discovered from it. 

-size kink 

-skin fetish 

- hair pulling 

- silk and ribbon play

- cum inflation 

-breeding

-pet play

- vore

-fluid play and consumption 

- spiking warming

- Heart and spark syncing 

- new spike and Valve modifications to test on their human lover

There's originally a lot of unknowns about humans, and cybertronians are rather intrigued, for one the first times the a lot of the crew of lost light had encountered them was on black market and high priced pets, and companions. 

There were exceptions such as Perceptor, Ratchet and Megatron who had been around humans before but for a lot of the bots this was their first time seeing them. that is until they are assigned a human communications, relations Ambassador/ liaison. 

But after the black market incident it had led a lot of bots into research over humans. And it just spirals more with them discovering some rather dark history with cybertronians keeping humans as playthings. And finding out their ‘interface equipment’ isn't that different from their own, just more organic and smaller.  

A late night of drinking at swerve slowly devolved into conversation over their local human. Brainstorm sits nursing his drink of engex while he and others of the ship chat away. "So does it fascinate anyone else over the fact that humans don't have natural plating or any kind of protection for their squishy form?" He brings up, he himself had fallen down the rabbit hole of human porn but didn't quite know how to breach the subject with anyone else. 

"Oh Primus, look who decided to join us, thought you were holding up with your Conjunx Chrome!" Swerve said with a chuckle, placing more drinks down. He hopped up onto one of the bar stools and leaned in eagerly, His attention flicks to Brainstorm. "You bring up a good point, Brainstorm," Swerve replied.

 "Those squishy humans are really something else, ain't they? No armour, no defences - I'd be scared outta my circuits if I was just soft protoform all the time!, like i’m so surprised squishy hasn't been stepped on yet" 

Rodimus nodded in agreement. "Yet they've managed to survive just fine so far. There's obviously more to them than meets the eye. Like i've seen some of the things our ambassador can do like the strange stretching"

"I dunno," Skids chimed in. "Seems pretty fraggin' reckless if you ask me. One good shot and it lights out!" 

Rewind shuddered. "Ugh, don't remind me. Just thinking about all those organics and tubes and who knows what else squishing around in there makes my fuel tank turn." He made a dramatic churning sound effect.

Riptide laughed. "I saw a nature documentary once about these hairless ape creatures the humans evolved from. Now THOSE guys were squishy."

“What in Primus have you been watching?!” 

“some old earth docs that Percy’s has, bots got a lot of info on Terra and the planet's history” The bots shared a collective laugh at the image. Swerve took a swig of his energon. "Frag, maybe there's something to be said about living on the edge like that! Sure keeps things interesting, its still strange that they are somehow one of the top predators of their planet yet are smaller than half the things they eat"

Brainstorm goes quiet for a moment. "Have you seen how flexible they are?"

Swerve nearly spit out his energon. "Whoa hey, I don't need those kinds of vivid imagery floatin' around my processor thank you very much!, keep the squishy interface vids to yourself" he said, waving his hands animatedly. 

"You have to admit, the way those fleshbags can contort themselves is pretty impressive," Skids added. "Must come in handy for.. maintenance." He waggled his optical ridges suggestively.

Brainstorm nodded pensively. "Indeed. Their non-metal structure allows for feats we could never replicate by ourselves." He took a sip of his energon. "Always makes me curious what other evolutionary adaptations they've developed to compensate for such vulnerability. The potential for scientific discovery is endlessly fascinating with their species and ancestors."

Riptide shrugged. "As long as they don't expect ME to try any of their bone-breaking yoga moves," he laughed. "This chassis is meant for tough stuff, not Twister!"

"You think they would be soft, you know if you interface with one?" Brainstorm asked while downing his drink, the engex was slowly going to his processor loosening his lips. 

"Oh don't give me that look I know for a fact you all have thought about doing with a human at least once! Rodimus I know for a fact you eye them up everytime our little liaison walks past you" He calls out Rodimus. 

Rodimus nearly choked on his energon in an attempt to look innocent. "Wh-what? That's not - I never -" he sputtered in protest, flustered optics darting around at the other bots.

Brainstorm smirked as Rodimus squirmed uncomfortably on the stool. "Oh please, don't try to deny it, Captain. You're about as subtle as a combiner in a supply closet." 

"Roddy's got the hots for squishy, who knew!" Swerve giggled uncontrollably. 

Skids nudged Riptide playfully. "Hey, maybe we got a xenophiliac on the ship!" 

"Alright alright, knock it off you glitches," Rodimus growled, though the blue flush across his face said otherwise. "I was just... curious, that's all. They ARE a strange species."

Swerve tried to contain his laughter. "Ohhh I bet you are more than curious, if you catch my drift!, wanna get up close and personal" More raucous peals of laughter from the group.

Brainstorm stroked his chin in thought. "They do feel intriguingly delicate. I wonder if their flexible frames would be more pleasurable to interface with than our own rigid forms..."

"Have you seen videos of them, they stretch a lot, like a lot, like I know human skin is resilient but i didn't think they were that resilient " Brainstorm states remembering some of the videos he had seen online. Other bots peak up intrigued. 

Swerve choked again as his fuel tank nearly turned inside out. "Brainstorm! That's... more than I needed to visualise, thank you very much." 

Skids seemed a bit less phased. "Fleshbags gettin' their twist on, huh? Can't say I'm not curious now." 

Even Rodimus seemed intrigued despite his earlier protests. "Resilient is an   understatement. I've seen some of the contortions that humans can do - it's astounding that their protoforms don't tear apart." 

Brainstorm nodded enthusiastically. "Precisely! With the right lubrication and technique, I hypothesise an interface with a limber human form would provide entirely novel sensory data."

Riptide shifted uncomfortably. "Not sure I'm ready to dive into the fleshy deep end just yet.”  

Swerve shot him a sly grin. "Aw c'mon Rip, live a little! Where's your sense of adventure?" 

Rodimus tried to steer the subject elsewhere. "Let's maybe change topics before someone needs a wipe down. Or Primus forbid, Magnus overhears you lot"

"I hope I did not hear what my processor just heard" Ultra Magnus states while staring down at the group of drinking mechs. A Lot of bots in the bar snicker at the group getting in trouble. 

"Come on Sir, get that wrench out of you aft, join us!" Skids called out.

Swerve let out an audible squeak at Ultra Magnus's stern tone, almost dropping his engex in panic. "U-Um, Magnus sir! Fancy seeing you here. We were just, uh, discussing..." 

He shot desperate optics at the others for help, but they all seemed to shrink down in their seats under Magnus's disapproving glare. 

Rodimus flashed an uneasy grin. "Just having a friendly debate about alien species, you know how it is. Brainstorm was bringing up some, er, interesting biological points..." 

Ultra Magnus sighed wearily. "I'd rather not know the details, thank you. Some topics are best left undiscussed in public."

The whole bar erupted into laughter at the group's misfortune. "Ah lay off em Magnus!" one patron called out. "They're just havin' fun!"

Another bot piped up. "Yeah, loosen up that rusty chassis and join us! One drink won't hurt." 

Magnus scowled, unamused. But as the encouragement grew louder, he glanced around hesitantly...

Swerve spotted an opening. "C'mon Magnus, live a little! I'll even give you a two-for-one special." He flashed a hopeful grin.

The enforcer grumbled but his resolve was cracking. Against his better judgement, he pulled up a stool. "One drink." Swerve whooped and poured him a double.

They cheer as Magnus sits down to drink with them. Skids speak up. "So brainstorm you saying you'd hook up with a fleshy, get nice and personal with a human" he calls out with a laugh.

Brainstorm leaned forward eagerly. "Why of course! The pursuit of scientific knowledge knows no boundaries. Though upon further review, direct interfacing with an organic might require certain, ah, safety protocols." 

Skids peered at him suspiciously. "Exactly what kind of 'research' are you plannin' on doing Brainy?"

Swerve nudged Riptide with a smirk. "I'll bet ya 20 shanix Brainstorm's just trying to find an excuse to get jiggy with the humies!"

Riptide snorted. "No way, I ain't takin' THAT bet!" 

Rodimus dropped his face in his palms with a groan. "can we PLEASE stop picturing Brainstorm fragging humans?" 

Ultra Magnus coughed on his engex, catching the comment he'd really rather not have heard. 

But Brainstorm paid them no mind, lost in scientific contemplation. "The human capacity for sensory input and feedback would provide a rich study on cross-species interface protocol adaptability..."

"INTERFACE PROTOCOLS?!" Swerve shrieked. The table erupted into howls of laughter at Magnus's deeply uncomfortable expression. It was going to be a LONG night indeed.

“Primus Brainstorm you kinky fragger” 

"Fine then everyone servo up if your not at least somewhat curious or thought about it at least once" Brainstorm calls out to all of Swerve's bars patrons

"Oooh, Brainstorm's putting us all on the spot!" Swerve giggled with gleeful mischief. He raised his servo without hesitation. 

Skids was quick to follow suit, slamming his half-empty glass down. "Frag it, I'll admit it! Those soft squishy bodies got me wonderin' what else they're good for." 

To everyone's surprise, Rodimus sheepishly lifted a servo as well, avoiding optic contact with Ultra Magnus. Riptide shrugged and joined in the show of servos, if only to blend in. 

The majority of bots in the bar started raising their hands amid roars of laughter and drunken encouragement. Only a select few hesitated, shooting nervous glances at Magnus. 

The enforcement officer's expression cycled through outrage, resignation and back to outrage as his gaze swept over the forest of raised servos. "I cannot condone such deviant interest in alien biologies," he protested, voice stiff. 

But as more servos stayed stubbornly aloft, Magnus sagged with a weary sigh. After a long moment, he slowly, begrudgingly raised one massive hand as well. 

The bar erupted into ear-splitting cheers. Swerve howled with glee, banging his fists on the counter. "Look's like we've all got a bit of xenophile in us after all! Even you, Magnus my mech!" 

Magnus buried his faceplate in his servos as Brainstorm cackled maniacally. Once the bar settles back down its Swerve who speaks up with a smirk on his faceplate. "So... which one of you charming mechs are gonna be the first to try and get our lovely Liaison?" He teases. 

Rodimus sputtered into his drink at Swerve's question, flushing brighter. "W-what? I never said anything about actually doing anything!, it's all just fantasies Swerve!" he protested in a hissed tone. 

Skids rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, well they do have a cute lil' figure. Bet they'd be a wild ride..." 

Swerve grinned slyly at Rodimus. "Aw c'mon Captain, don't tell me you ain't thought about it at least once! I bet they'd be real fun to break in, get all soft and pliable..." 

Rodimus smacked Swerve upside the helm. "Knock it off!" He shot a pleading glance at Ultra Magnus as if begging for rescue.

But unexpectedly, Brainstorm was the one who spoke up. "While the organic's flexibility is intriguing, directly interfacing could introduce unknown health risks or cultural taboos. Outside the fact our people have kept humans as pets and companions in the past. A more ethical approach would be gaining consent for strictly observational research."  

Riptide frowned. "Not sure the liaison would go for that either Storm" 

Swerve sighed dreamily. "Just imagine wrapping those soft squishy bits all around you though... bet they'd feel amazing..."  

"SWERVE." Magnus's warning tone silenced the cheeky bartender immediately. He turned back to Rodimus with a sigh. "Despite certain... Curiosities, directly engaging an organics  such a manner would be unwise, dangerous even, not to mention our form are much larger and could harm a human."

Rewind nodded gratefully at Magnus, relieved the subject was shifting. But the mischievous glint in Swerve's optic suggested his teasing wasn't over yet. It was going to be a long night indeed.

"Relax Mags I'm just riling these drunk mech up. Unless you're interested in our sweet little ambassador" he teases, making other bots choke on their drinks. 

Ultra Magnus's icy glare could have frozen Swerve's energon. "Need I remind you this conversation is highly inappropriate and unprofessional," he said sternly. 

But to everyone's surprise, Rodimus let out an undignified snort of laughter. "As if Magnus would ever break protocol like that! He'd probably recite the entire Autobot code of conduct while fragging."

The whole bar erupted in howls of mirth at the mental image. 

Swerve was nearly rolling on the floor. "Can you imagine?! 'Paragraph 3, subsection B clearly states interfacing with sentient aliens requires prior diplomatic clearance forms in triplicate!'" he cried in a mockingly stiff voice. 

Skids were wiping away fuel tears. "Primus if MR. RULES AND REGS ever broke the rules, it'd be one for the history archives!" 

Riptide jabbed Skids in the side. "Ten shanix says he'd have them memorising regulations the whole time!" 

"Twenty shanix says they'd run screaming first!" Swerve shot back. 

The bets and ribbing escalated as more mechs joined in. Across the table, Rodimus shoved Magnus playfully. "C'mon Magnus, live on the wild side for once!" 

Magnus's rumbling huff was the only response. Watching his rigid commander finally loosening up filled Swerve with delight. Somehow, some way, he'd find a way to get Magnus to break protocol yet! It was shaping up to be the best night ever.

"Ohhh let's make this fun. I list some bots and you say if you think they would hook up with a human" Riptide states. "Rung, Drift and Ratchet" he calls out the names.

Swerve let out a dramatic gasp. "Ooh spicy!"

"Rung is definitely curious but way too professional. Might let loose over a couple cubes of engex though!" 

Skids broke into hysterics at Riptide's suggestions. "Rung and a HUMAN?! Rung doesn't even touch his OWN interface panel!" 

Rodimus snorted. "Can you imagine? 'My dear, it seems you're experiencing some psychological interfacing blockers. Please, tell me how that makes you feel.'" 

"Drift guy's definitely intrigued by other species, if you know what I mean. Plus he's artsy so he'd probably appreciate the 'aesthetic'." Swerve responds

"Drift might go for it, he's open to new experiences," Rodimus mused with a grin. 

Brainstorm nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, his spiritual philosophies suggest an openness to cultural exchange that others may lack. I think if he and ratchet weren't together its something he might try" 

"Ratchet. bah! As if that grumpy old rust-bucket would try anything so illogical. Unless she's a doctor too and starts quoting his favourite protocols... then all bets are off!" Skids laughed. 

"Ratchet? Nah, too much of a hard aft. He'd just bitch about human biohazards the whole time," Swerve giggled. 

"Well if Drift was interested I'm pretty sure that mecn could get ratchet to do anything with the bat of his optics" Rodimus remarks.

The table erupted in raucous laughter. Swerve took a playful bow. "Alright bring on the next victims!" 

Riptide rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, how about...Tailgate, Cyclonus, and Whirl?" 

Swerve cackled wickedly. "Tailgate would be way too nervous but he'd try for his Conjunx Cyclonus. Cyclonus would 100% use his broody vibes to charm her pants off but only for Tailgate. And Whirl? He doesn't interface, he destroys! So that liaison better watch her interfacing ports around that lunatic!" 

Chromedome interjects stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Tailgate would be way too nervous and shy, I think. He'd probably short-circuit just from holding hands!" 

Riptide nodded. "Cyclonus has always struck me as the kinky type. Wonder if he's into those squishy bits like Brainstorm thinks..."

"Whirl would frag anything that moves," Rodimus interjected with a grimace. "But I don't think an organic would survive the experience!"

Brainstorm stroked his chin. "Indeed, Whirl's interfacing protocol subroutines seem rather...enthusiastic. Consent might be a fleeting concept. Better to observe from a safe distance." 

Swerve shuddered. "Ugh, don't make me picture that psycho getting 'friendly' with a human! I'm tryna keep my fuel down y'know." 

The names continue being dropped. 

 " First Aid! I don't know if the medic-bot's got it in him to break the rules. But I betcha if he did, he'd be real gentle and caring-like. He'd have them feelin' better than new in no time!" 

Skids grinned devilishly. "Yeah but would they feel better? Aid's so straight and narrow I bet he'd put em in stasis lock from boredom!" 

"Now Perceptor on the other hand..." Swerve tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Bookish type, but you know there's a passionate scientist in there waiting to experiment. Think he'd go slow and methodical, really take his time 'exploring the specimen'." 

"his thirst for organic sciences might overpower his good sense," Rewind remarks. 

“optimus prime, Prowl and bumblebee ” Chromedome interjects with his own inquiries. 

Swerve pretended to wipe away exhaust fumes. "Primus help me, this is gonna be good... Optimus Prime is obviously Mister Morality himself, but you know he's got a secret wild side under all that virtue signalling. Just imagine how freaky he could get with some alien nookie!" 

The bar erupted in incredulous, drunken laughter and cheers. Swerve grinned impishly. 

"As for Prowl, I'm telling you that stick up his tailpipe is begging to come out and play. One roll in the berth with a naughty fleshy and he'd loosen up reeeal nice!" 

"And Bee? He's a sweet kid, but you know what they say, it's always the quiet ones! Between his cute lil' face and that tight chassis, he'd have the human lining up to frag that glitch right into stasis!" 

The bar absolutely lost it, bots falling over each other in drunken hysterics. Even Mirage was struggling not to fall off his chair. Swerve took an exaggerated bow as his audience howled. 

"Thank you, thank you! I'll be here all cycle! Now who's ready for the next round?" More shouts and clanking glasses answered his call. It was shaping up to be the wildest night at Swerve's yet!

 Magnus dropping Megatron's name that really sent them over the edge.

"Megatron?! With the liaison?!" Rodimus howled with laughter, nearly spitting out his drink. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all cycle!" 

But Swerve wasn't done. "Megatron? Now THAT'S an image! 'You pathetic fleshbag, you DARE try to mount the great Megatron?! Grovel before my interface array!'" 

Magnus adds more information which makes everyone surprised " He and the ambassador are rather close" He states

Rewind speaks up from Chromedome’s side. "Y'know... they do have a certain chemistry. I'll bet under all that scowling and chipped armour there's a softie just waitin' for the right tender touch to melt his spark. And they have got sass to spare  bet they could handle Megatron's brooding and snarl!" 

"Twenty shanix says he'd have them trembling and beggin' for mercy in no time flat!" Skids bet eagerly. 

"You're on!" crowed Riptide. "But I still think Perceptor's the real dark horse..."

[emotionallyattachednerd]

Nutrients | IDW Megatron x f!robot reader | NSFW 18+

Word count: 1000+

Warnings: Smut ( spike in valve, lactation kink ) . NSFW 18+.

Notes: Wow! This was a lot of fun. Pointing out, femmes have breasts and lactate in this story. Something different. Honestly, I love the kink and doesn't get enough attention. Enjoy this. 🥰

☕ Coffee

You watch Megatron settling down your sparkling, gently rocking the tiny bundled frame while letting out soft vibrations from his chassis to sooth him. Despite his aged war build, his past, he was a caring sire to his son.

This honestly wasn't part of the plan, though you both have talked about starting a family, the timing wasn't right, but that changes of course, and you both end up with a beautiful son together. You make it work, going on missions, leading crews, raising your son, it all works out.

Smiling tenderly, you enjoy the scene before Megatron finally settles the mech in his crib, quietly tucking him in tip toeing out the room, dimming the lights within and making sure the door closes quietly.

"Job well done." You praise through a whisper as he comes closer to sit beside you. "You're truly amazing with him. Sometimes I feel like you're the better parent."

"You're a terrific mother to our son as well." Megatron assures while caressing your cheek plating fondly under his broad digits, making you let out a soft purr while leaning into his affections. "We both do well for him. He's too young to face the war, but maybe by the time he's old enough to understand there won't be any war to worry about."

"We can only wait and see." You sigh fondly and gaze up at him, your smile growing a little more recognizing his lingering stare. "Is there something on your mind, my love?"

"I'm thirsty." He says through a silky tone and moves his servo towards your chest plating, tracing his digits around the edges. "Did our son leave some left over?"

It wouldn't be the first time, and you both got a guilty kink over it as well for a while now, and you respond by unclasping your chest platings, straddling his lap like a panther, full breasts naked in view for him.

"Drink up, handsome."

Megatron reacts by kissing you tenderly, as a lover would, before descending his helm lower over your exposed breasts and taking hold of a nipple between his lips, suckling gently, before receiving the taste of your sweet nutrients against his glossa, and starts to nurse.

Your servos move behind his helm where you gently rub, coaxing him fondly to keep going, letting out a humming moan as he consumes what your son left behind for his sire to have. He moans loudly against your sensitive nipple, causing you to toss your helm back as another silky moan leaves you.

His glossa swirls around, pressing down and denta’s grazing in the most sensational way that sends a shiver through your frame. The buzzing arousal rushing through you settles in your valve, and you start to rock your waist down, grinding against Megatron's heated panel where his spike is slowly hardening under its cover.

Moving your servo between your bodies, you rub his panel, letting out a satisfied smile hearing his moans growing hotter and deeper, as if something forbidden was slowly crawling out from his chassis. You then feel his throbbing spike emerge from its housing and stand tall between your bodies while he continues to suckle at your breast.

Wrapping your servo around his broad spike you give him a couple of strokes earning more moans from him, running you digit over his leaking tip as you press your chest more closer against his eager mouth. Once that one was drained, he moves to the next one, and this is when you retract your own panel, soaking valve ready as you lift yourself up a little and sink down onto him, stretching your channel fully as you let out a lingering moan, followed by his increased beast like sounds.

Slowly you rock you hips, feeling every pulse of his spike throbbing through you, letting out gentle mewls as you bury your face into his neck as you keep this tender movement.

Megatron moves his servo across your hips, cascading down over your aft as he continues to consume with greed, feasting and interfacing both together is a wild and fun experience.

"Feels wonderful." You whisper through a lusty tone, letting out more perky moans as you continue to skillfully rock your hips over his spike, moving a little quicker as you feel him twitch deep within you. "Frag, Megs."

He responds by groaning against your breast, denta’s softly nibbling around your perk nipple that sends an aroused pulse through you. His grip tightens and you both know you're close to an overload, and you don't hold back, giving him a few more firm grinds before feeling that electric spark pop through your systems as your fluids soak his twitching spike. His waist moves up against you a little more, grunting against your breast, before he finds his own release, flooding your channel with warm thick ropes of trans fluids.

Venting softly through your aftersparks, you let out a soft moan before he finally finishes latching, tilting his helm up and smiling at you with that pathetic handsome longing gaze, some of your nutrients smeared at the corner of his lips. Using your digit you wipe it off and sucked, purposely taking your whole digit to give him a small teasing show that causes a low rumble to vibrate from his chassis.

"Enjoy yourself?" You caress the sides of his helm and kiss him romantically, sharing your love for your bondmate as he returns to tender kiss before pressing the front of your helm together.

"Very much. Thank you, my love." Megatron feels incredibly lucky to have you in his life.

Suddenly, you hear your sparkling crying softly in the next room. Perhaps you were a little too loud in your intimate moment, or he didn't get enough to feed.

"There better be leftovers for our son."

[orion-nottson]

devil’s in the details | tfp!megatron x reader

A/N: i have tfp megatron brain rot. like i know he’s cray cray and deluded, but literally so am i we’re made for each other he’s mine

also this obvi deviates from canon, bc there is no way on god’s green earth that dreadwing and starscream could coexist semi-peacefully.

also, please be warned that i haven’t written transformers fanfic since i was like 14 💀💀 fought for my LIFE with the terminology (had to check my old WATTPAD stories to find some vocab 💀)

summary: lord megatron propositions you. it’s a rather bold request.

content: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, femme!cybertronian!reader, seeker!reader, sticky sexual interfacing, breeding kink, wee lil bit of choking, technically boss/employee relationship, power dynamic (it gets semi-resolved), implied past relationship/thought unrequited love, average decepticon emotional constipation, business arrangement procreation

word count: 6,367

~ * ~ * ~

The Decepticon warship lingers somewhere over the southern pole of Earth, resulting in a dramatic decrease in temperature, even with the efficiency of Cybertronian technology. You shift your wings for the umpteenth time, armor plates releasing air to alleviate the discomforting chill that’s started to bother you. Of course, it was far from being so cold that you needed to worry about your core temperature, but you are a Seeker from Vos, and Vos was always warm.

The thought makes your wings tremble again, so you hurry yourself to your quarters with a bit more haste.

It wouldn’t suddenly be warm and tropical, but at least you’d be able to curl up and shiver in privacy. Recharge sounds particularly nice too, considering you’ve been up for several cycles trying to appease Lord Megatron’s endless demands. Inwardly, you roll your optics— There seems to be nothing you can do that would satisfy him.

The corridor finally breaks into the wing that houses Decepticon high command, where yours and your fellow officers reside. Your room is down almost the entire expanse of the hall, the turn right before where Megatron’s personal habsuite lies. From where you’re walking, you can spot the sleek, black metal door. A chill runs up your back struts, and your processor convinces you it’s from the icy cold that’s overtaken the Nemesis.

“Curse this inhospitable, organic planet.” Muttering to yourself dissuades you from also blaming your Master, who was no help either, if you were to be honest. He could shove his “not wanting to expend precious Energon on unnecessary heating��� decree up his tail pipe.

You resign yourself to some rather cold nights for the foreseeable future. Perhaps... If you played your cards right, as the humans say, you could convince Soundwave to pilot the ship north. Maybe somewhere near Hawaii...

A sharp, gravelly voice from behind you calls your name, and you spin around to see your Lord and Master a ways down the corridor from you. Immediately bringing yourself to attention, you straighten your back struts and bow politely.

“My liege.” You say, thanking Primus you’ve become so accustomed to Megatron’s thunderous shouts that you no longer jump, let alone flinch, when they occur. The silver mech strides up to you easily, displaying all the strength of a warrior in the confidence of his steps.

“Retiring to your quarters?” He asks austerely, as if he’s ever concerned himself with your whereabouts, let alone personal routine. Unease creeps up on you, so you shift on the thrusters of your peds and cross your servos over your chassis. Wings fluttering, you reply slowly, “Well, yes.”

“Allow me to accompany you there.” The silver mech says brightly, and it’s such an absurdly peculiar request for both the mech saying it and the situation at hand. You instinctively snort a laugh.

“I do believe I know the way to my own habsuite, my Lord.” You say before you can stop the words from coming out, and immediately regret them once they do. You meet Megatron’s hard stare sheepishly, wings dropping timorously. Forgetting your place in the grand scheme of things is not wise amongst the Decepticon ranks.

To your utter shock, you’re not met with a vicious reprimand and instead Megatron grins— this wickedly suave thing— and purrs, “Humor me.”

And all you can say is, “Of course.”

Megatron hums appreciatively, brushing past you as he takes the lead, like he always does. You step in time behind him, nearly colliding into his back struts when he suddenly halts, and you stumble backwards a few steps. The looming mech pivots, glancing down at you with a quizzical expression in his glowing optics.

“Seekers are a rare breed, yes?” Lord Megatron asks, and whatever game he’s begun to play with you genuinely stumps any reasoning you attempt. Opening your mouth, your optics dart over his face, trying to decode whatever message your Master is sending and coming up empty. 

“Er... Yes, my liege? Even before the war, Vos was not a populous city-state. There are probably... even less now.” You reply cautiously, becoming very put off as Megatron takes a step towards you. He looks as impassive as ever, though you’re beginning to see a very curious appraising expression overtaking his faceplates. It begins with the upcurve of his mouth, derma pulled into the most wolfish grin you’ve ever seen on the mech.

Utterly bizarre. Your processors want to reset because this Megatron is starting to look like the studly gladiator of Kaon you’d hear be lasciviously giggled about, not the ruthless, merciless tyrant he’s supposed to be.

“I have a rather... avant-garde proposition for you, my most loyal Seeker.” Megatron purrs, his servos clasped easily behind him as you’ve seen him too many times before, often when he schemes. He’s also talking to you as if this is casual, expected business of him; matter-of-fact and cordial, with his usual cool drawl.

Before you can reply, Megatron turns sharply once more and begins walking down the corridor, stopping after a few steps when he realizes you hadn’t started with him. He turns his helm to look back at you, this time there’s this strangely unreadable expression on his faceplates.

“Follow me.” He says simply, and without a second thought, you do.

Even though you’re a Seeker with naturally long legs, his pedsteps are even longer strides, so you have to exert some effort in keeping up with Megatron. It adds to the growing franticness that’s begun to bubble up inside your chassis. 

While not exactly fear, though that’s certainly part of it, you’ve been a Decepticon and aboard the Nemesis under Megatron’s direct command long enough to know that when he becomes cryptic, it means trouble. Or at least a command that you’d rather not be the one to deal with. Bluntly asking what the frag he’s on about wouldn’t be the best course of action, but you know that he likes you enough not to offline you immediately if you did.

So you do.

“My Lord, what exactly are you asking of me?” You inquire, noting with slight abject horror as Megatron approaches the door to your quarters and types in your lock code with ease. Of course, he is the leader after all. Instead of answering your question, he makes you feel even more uneasy by throwing you a mysteriously sultry look and quipping, “Let me have you if only for a breem. Or longer should I entertain you.”

You catch the flash of his ruby optics, their intentions indiscernible, and then he disappears into your habsuite like it’s his own.

There’s something to it, an itch of a thought that’s begun to decipher the puzzle and put together the pieces. Lately, Megatron has been far more... involved with you, more eager at your presence, and it was blatantly obvious that he grew quite miffed when others got too close. It was no secret to anyone— From Soundwave and Starscream to a lowly technician— that Megatron had an optic for you (many did, frankly) and thus he was quite possessive of your wiles and charms as well.

This line of thought leads you to step into your room, slowly and evenly as if it’s unmarked territory and not the quarters that were assigned to you millennia ago.

“Lord Megatron...” You trail off, catching his stare just as he sets your old null ray back on your weapons rack, where most of your old, dismantled, and prized tools are located. Your null ray had been a favorite, until some blasted Autobot blew out the important bits that kept it working. That had stung, and even eons later you still curse that specific Autobot to the Pits.

Megatron flexes his claws, and with a flourish he clasps his servos behind him once again. His red optics scan the entirety of your quarters, lingering on your berth until they come back to rest on you. His gaze is equal parts unnerving and fascinating, as if he’s deconstructing you armor by armor, stripping you down until he’s watched your spark pulse.

His optics, like twin red suns, center you at their universes, and you feel oddly... flattered at their amorous disposition.

“It is no secret that I have watched you for some time.” Megatron starts, tilting his helm as he becomes pensive. You nod dumbly, hardly processing a word he’s saying. Megatron takes a single step towards you, looming like a shadow. In the dim lighting of your room, his silver armor catches all the chiaroscuro, his violet accents hued to black. Only his glowing, fiery optics remain bright. He continues.

“I admit,—” Megatron drawls your name deliciously, “— That I have found myself... captivated by your beauty. Entranced by your prowess, both in battle and mind.”

“I...” Your vents hitch, wings shivering at the praise. Blinking rapidly to ensure this isn’t some monumentally vivid dream, you clear your intake and say, “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, my Lord.”

Megatron laughs, that slight chuckle that sounds halfway between his engines roaring and something genuine that comes from the spark. The silver mech’s rolls his shoulders, armor hissing as it releases air. Wildly, he confesses something you never would have expected from him, “I believe myself bewitched.”

His servos have clasped themselves into fists at his sides, and briefly you wonder if he’s angry with you, then his entire frame relaxes like he’s decompressing after a long spar with Dreadwing.

“Tell me, my little Seeker, why have you denied yourself of me for so long?” Megatron asks it like a tease, like he’s some boon to be revered or a sacred sword to be wielded. Heat rises beneath your armor plating, and your processors race kilometers a nanosecond to find a suitable answer. Or at least one that doesn’t make you sound like some lovesick femmeling.

You couldn’t lie and say you had no... feelings for your Master, who was as handsome and dark as he was powerful and cunning. Megatron was once a gladiator of Kaon, and gladiators on Cybertron were what you had often admired, marveling at their strength, drive, and raw spark. Megatron had been no different, though you also found his commanding presence and impressive intellect to be even more attractive.

That was really why you’d joined the Decepticon cause all those millennia ago; Drawn to your Master’s fight to bring equality to the rigid castes and to seize control of the Energon supply to better disperse it by his charismatic allure.

And somehow, Megatron knew all of this.

“It would have been insubordination if I acted upon my... desires.” You reply, crossing your arms over your ample chassis with a shrug. Megatron matches your collected temperament with a hum, staring down at you with unreadable red optics.

“Indeed. Though I wish you’d had disobeyed, my little Seeker.” Megatron purrs, taking a step towards you that closes the space between your frames and boxes you in. His EM field magnifies the atmosphere around you, tingling at the periphery of yours.

“M-My liege?” You gape, faceplates feeling hot as metal left in direct sunlight. He chuckles, and sinfully the tip of his glossa runs over his pointed denta. Your spark skips a beat, owlishly watching 

“If I had known sooner that you wanted me as direly as I did you, then this song and dance would have concluded vorns ago.” Megatron growls, optics flashing with not anger, but lust. He takes another step, and you’re speechless.

“That being said, I am patient. I have no qualms with how long we have waited, nor will I if you choose to wait longer.” One of the tyrant’s long, clawed digits clicks at the bottom of your chin, tilting your face upwards. His touch is delicate, like you’d break if he pushed too hard. Honestly, you probably would if he did. Part of you wants to see him try.

“What did you want to ask of me?” You whisper, optics fluttering until they stay half-lidded and dewy under the carnal scrutiny of your Lord. Megatron grins, a sliver of sharp denta flashing in the lowlights of your habsuite. He takes a final step towards you, a half-shuffle that does well to close the gap between your frames, the air warming from the work of your combined engines. You hope he feels the way your spark races, hope he feels the heat emanating from your core.

“Give me an heir, carry a sparkling of my code and stand beside me as my queen.” With each word, laden with desire until it shows in his optics that drip with lust, Megatron has you against the wall of your habsuite, one servo tracing the sleek edge of your wing.

It’s entirely intoxicating, and against your better judgment and all remaining reason— and mostly because you haven’t had a good, hard frag in ages— you moan.

It’s a soft, angelic sound that barely catches on the audials, but it makes Megatron grin like a shark. You gasp, affronted, optics flickering, “My liege!”

“Have I offended you?” He breathes, and suddenly his mouth is against your neck cables, each word leaving the softest of kisses on your Energon lines. Your resolve nearly crumbles entirely, each brush of his dermas like a shot of high grade to the systems. You sigh, vents hissing, and place one servo on his chassis. Beneath the broad expanse of silver armor, his engines rumble like thunder on the horizon. It makes you pulse with need.

“No.” You whisper, wanting to sing as Megatron kisses the slope of your jaw, then pecks the side of your mouth, agape with shock. He pulls back, the heat of him evaporating as soon as he’s once again standing at his full height. You tremble, not from the cold, but from his absence. 

It’s not something you’d ever given much thought about, your feelings towards your Lord and Master, but it’s something that’s come rushing back. All the suppressed thoughts, the dashed dreams, the impossible futures... They come back to you and leave you weak in the knee joints, cooling fans whirring from the memories of the fantasies you’d entertained when you’d had long midnights alone.

“What say you then?” Megatron’s stare is hard, unshaking and fully serious. He wants to have a sparkling with you, wants you to bear him an heir— He wants you as his queen and equal, to stand beside him and lead the Decepticon cause. The expression on his face is a cross between a wild animal, wanting to ravage you the nanosecond you say Yes, and the warlord with enough resolve and self-restraint to accept if you say No.

It’s all so much at once. Eons of time made up in just a single question. Details and technicalities will have to be conferred over later, as for now you’re content with the conditions as-is.

“Well... You are a handsome mech, my liege.” You reply, teasing him by placing a chaste kiss directly on the Decepticon insignia on his chassis. He doesn’t say anything, only his engine rumbles more audibly. You look up at him and salaciously imply with a coy smirk, “I do believe we’d make a fine clutch of sparklings.”

And then you find yourself swept up into his arms, back struts and wings pressed against the wall, your Lord’s hips slotted perfectly against yours. The more base urges inside you squeal, your Seeker coding nearly overtaking you and having you present to him like a turbofox in heat.

Not one to be outdone, Megatron quips, “And you are quite the striking femme— Shall I ravage you against the wall or your berth?”

You laugh, cut off only when Megatron captures your dermas in his, drowning you in the roughness of a mech starved of Energon. He kisses like he owns the practice and has made it an artform; Dragging your dermas with his, glossa invading your mouth, denta nipping dangerously close to sensitive nodes and wiring. You moan and gasp, coming to the realization that one of your servos grips his wrist and the other is flat against his chassis.

You shutter your optics, reveling in Megatron’s power and dominance, wanting so desperately for him to devour you. The warmth blossoms, spreading throughout your core until you feel charges pulse at your interface panels that have you whimpering.

After what feels like vorns, Megatron parts and your dermas unlock with a metallic pop. Megatron’s mouth ghosts over yours, and he hums as he repeats himself, “Berth or wall, little Seeker?”

“The berth, my liege.” You urge breathlessly, a delighted sound escaping you as Megatron heaves you from the wall and carries you to your desired destination. He isn’t gentle when he deposits you on your berth, doesn’t mind the wings, so you hiss when your back struts connect with the metal beneath you. Megatron manages to keep himself between the smooth metal of your thighs as he hitches one knee up onto the berth.

“I wonder,” Megatron stops to kiss you deeply once more, making your processors spin, “If this is an auspicious position for conception.”

A bite to the dermas stifles your wanton moan. Your Lord may not be fully aware of it yet, but each mention of being sparked, of bearing his heirs, has your more base urges spiraling out of control. While Vos was not populated by many Seekers, the need to breed is more hardwired into the programming than most other frame types. His words act like fuel to the fire.

“O-Oh— I can only hope.” You gasp, your whimpering cries smothered by Megatron’s dermas in yet another bruising, brusque kiss. This time, he lingers, slows down as if he savors the taste of you on his glossa. Your servos grip his shoulders, smoothing along his breadth before your pointed digits grip at the armor panels high on his back. Megatron responds most enjoyably, using one servo to anchor himself above you and the other to caress down your body.

His servo travels from the curve of your waist, talons scratching at your paint, down to the slope of your hip where it rests heavy and warm on the junction of your thigh. He teases the sharp point of his thumb digit on the transformation seam nearest your interface panels, causing you to arch your back struts like a cat. Megatron uses this opportunity to settle a servo on the low of your back struts, where he pinches at the sensitive nodes at the bases of your wings. That makes you cry out, your cooling fans whirring loudly as a charge builds up deep inside you. 

You’ve never been this close to an overload so quickly before, though you’ve had many sleepless nights built up to bring you to this moment. And Megatron proves his expertise in the berth, past rumors and gossip proven to hold more truth than you once thought. 

Your entire frame feels electrified, your lower body feels like it’s on fire, the heat centered gloriously on your interfacing parts. Particularly your valve and anterior node, which feel wet and pulse beneath the panel with each of your sparkbeats.

“You react so gratifyingly.” Megatron purrs, his gravelly drawl like fine high grade on the audials, uncharacteristically sweet and sensual. He glances down at your interface panels, where your glowing transfluid is beginning to seep out along the seams. With a devious grin, Megatron meets your gaze just as he presses his thumb digit to your overheated panel.

“Megatron!” You cry his name, forsaking honorifics, and nearly overloading on the spot. Almost unconsciously, you send a command and your valve panel slides open, revealing your weeping slit and throbbing anterior node. You cry out again when Megatron wastes no time and starts tight, small circles on the sensitive bundle of mesh wire and circuitry.

“Beautiful.” He hums, quickening his pace on your anterior node as he notices sparks fly as your charge builds. You grip his back, claws digging at his silver armor and leaving scratches in his already worn paint. Megatron leans in, steals your dermas in a kiss, keeps circling your wet node, and just as you see warnings for an imminent overload— He stops.

The charge doesn’t die, but it decreases to a staticky tingle, and you part from the kiss, scandalized that he’s prevented your overload. You gape at Megatron, giving him a glare that could rival the World Destroyer’s himself. He only offers you a sly look.

“My liege.” This time you growl the title past grit denta, bucking your hips against your Master’s still servo. He hums, your anger meaning nothing to him, though indulging you by brushing two digits along the transfluid-soaked mesh of your valve. You gasp, optics blowing wide as he pushes them in, mindful of his sharp claws, stretching you wonderfully.

There’s a slight burn at first, pain sensors sending alerts, alleviated as your frame adjusts to accommodate his thick talons. Megatron eases his digits back until they are almost out completely, then sinks them back in. Your knees come up, peds shaking as you hook them behind his back struts.

“Patience, my dear,” Megatron kisses your neck cables, “Is a virtue.”

And like he had your anterior node, he works your valve slowly, steadily building the charge that buzzes all the pleasure centers in your frame. Warnings for an overload screen your vision again, this time your optics flicker as it grows closer. Staccato vents escape your intake, fans skipping cycles and hitching, encouraging Megatron to go faster, digits plunging in and out of your valve with sopping, moist noises. The room smells like interface; the tinny tang of transfluid, the almost-burnt smell of metal-on-metal friction.

You moan, this time a long keen that crackles in your audials, and Megatron responds with the first pleasured sound you’ve heard from him: A low, throaty groan that he practically strangles in his intake like he doesn’t want it to escape.

“M-My liege, plea-please.” You whine, writhing, bucking your hips even as Megatron’s servo relinquishes your wings in order to still them. You sob, systems on the fritz as the charge crackles, your overload closing in due to Megatron’s working servo and digits. He laughs again, the breathy one that you adore, and surprisingly heeds your plea.

“I want you like this when you take my spike.” Megatron hisses, doubling his pace and making you scream. The wet squelch of your mesh grows louder, and with each thrust of his servo, his knuckle joint brushes your throbbing anterior node, whiting out your optics.

“I want you disheveled.” The tyrant presses close to you, tightening the cyclic thrusts of his digits, biting at the base of your neck cables. Your helm lolls to the side, voice crackling in constant whines as you squeeze your optics shut. He growls, sharp denta piercing an Energon line close to your shoulder armor, the pain mixing with pleasure and having you singing.

“I want you desperate.” Megatron snarls like an Earthen beast, the gruffness of his voice matching the hot stretch of your valve. Transfluid soaks the inner seams and mechanisms of your thighs, spilling onto your berth below. Megatron drags his dermas to yours, his glossa hot and heady as he shoves it in your mouth and dominates the kiss. You moan against him, gripping him tight and hearing the sound of metal screech as its torn.

The silver mech groans, low and rough, breaking the kiss and allowing his helm to fall besides yours. To the cables and wires of your neck, he leaves open-mouth kisses, condensation hot from his vents, then pulls himself up to your audials and whispers harshly:

“I want you as mine.”

The last word is punctuated by a hard push of his digits and his thumb squashing your anterior node, and your overload hits you like a system crash. You wail, wings fluttering and hitting the berth with metallic clangs as your body seizes, the charge overtaking your processors. Pleasure like molten lava consumes your frame, transfluid squirting out onto Megatron’s forearm like paint.

The overload lasts eons, like some supernova of a dying star. Your legs lock, armor plating shivering, wings hitched high and scraping against your berth.  Maybe this is what death is, you think illogically, Maybe I’ve joined with the Allspark.

“Beautiful.” Megatron breathes again, his optics glowing in awe, “Positively beautiful.”

It takes a click for your processor to compute what he said, then another for your optics to blink back on. Coolant tears leak out the corners, blurring your vision. Your mouth gapes, dermas damp with condensation, your cooling fans whirring in loud in your audials. The grip you have on Megatron loosens, servos slipping until they fall upon his shoulders.

The charge in your valve mesh and anterior node quivers and bounces, and you realize with a pleasant tremble that Megatron’s digits are still firmly inside you.

“Megatron.” You coo his name, “Megatron.”

He says yours back, like all you’ve done and are doing is exchanging designations in a routine meeting and it reminds you of a time when things were simpler between the two of you. It’s been eons since Megatron’s seen you the way his ruby red optics gaze upon you now, eons more since you’ve felt seen.

War has made you both volatile, too tough and too angry to do anything else but fight, and fight some more. But here, in the privacy of your berth, blanketed by the secrecy of darkness: War can’t touch you. Nothing can.

“How I have yearned for you...” Megatron cups your faceplates, his servo cool against your overheated frame. You smile, still hazy from your overload and the lingering sensation of his other servo very much connected carnally to you, feeling like you’ve overdone yourself on too much high grade. 

A switch flips inside you, the one that reminds you’re no fainting femme, but one that asks and will take regardless. You are a Seeker, after all— It’s in your code to want offspring.

“Give me a sparkling, my Lord.” Even though your voice wavers, it still sounds like an immutable command. The contemplative look on Megatron’s face morphs into the devilish one, and he snarls, removing his digits from your core. A thin line of gooey transfluid stretches between you and his servo, until Megatron brings it to his mouth and his glossa licks along the length of his digits. His optics narrow in as he hums.

“You presume you can command me.” And yet he obeys again, his interface panel unlatching with a hiss. His spike emerges, a long, thick one that fills in sections, ribbed along its length. Glowing transfluid oozes in droplets from its tip, rolling down the underside of his spike. Your jaw drops, both in want and slight alarm— Megatron is a large mech, you should have better anticipated a large spike.

“Know this, dearest: I will take you, ruin you, fill you up until my code takes.” Megatron promises, lining his bobbing spike up with your throbbing valve. He then grabs your hips, propping them up for a better angle. You quiver, writhing on your berth and bracing your servos on his forearms. His armor is hot under your touch, and your claws dig into the smooth of his paint. Then you match his stare, licking your dermas.

“Frag me like you mean it.”

Megatron suddenly thrusts his spike into you and you wail, unforgiving of your smaller stature. The delicate mesh and sensitive wires give and mold around the hot rod of his pulsing length, forming a slick suction around your lover. He groans, easing back then thrusting in with earnest. Your thighs tremble as you take him, each rimmed circlet of his spike passing into you, dragging deliciously on your valve’s walls.

It’s a tight fight, even with being loosened by Megatron’s thick digits. The transformation seams on your hips and thighs stretch, soft whirs and clicks as your frame adjusts to take him. He’s the biggest you’ve ever had, and the strongest too. The power in his hips drives you up the berth, and he pulls you back down.

You can’t meet his thrusts, but you try and buck your hips in time with him, erratic at first. Megatron’s servos are locked on you, guiding you when your movements skip or miss. All the pleasure centers in your frame are alight, charges sparking and fritzing along your circuitry. Another overload builds, a hot, deep bubbling in your core.

With each thrust of his spike, your valve squelches, the mesh slick and hot with transfluid. More drips down your legs, your aft, onto the berth, leaving everything tacky. Megatron hits a particularly sensitive node deep inside you, one you didn’t even know was there, and you keen. Coolant tears prick at your vision again, escaping the corners and rolling off your faceplates. 

“How badly do you want it?” Megatron seethes, and you could mistake his lust for anger. He seizes your neck cables, dangerous talons threatening Energon lines, as he demands, “How badly do you want me?”

“Desperately.” You wheeze, optics whiting out as Megatron squeezes your neck cables just so as he gives you a series of particularly rough thrusts. Your peds tighten on his back, urging him deeper. Your Master vents, harsh and hot, his engine rumbling loud in his chassis.

“You will look...” Megatron chokes on a groan,”... Excellent with a trine at your hip.”

That makes you whine, Seeker coding squealing and preening at the thought. A trine. Three little sparklings just like their carrier. You’d delight in carrying them in your gestation chamber, wanting to see yourself change and swell to accommodate them.

“I want... I want,” Your voice cuts out, broken by a sob, and you can only manage a tight, “I want that!”

“Good.” Megatron pistons his hips like a jackhammer, his rhythm not breaking once. Powerful thrusts meet the wet heat of your core, the tops of his thigh armor clanking loudly against your legs. The overload warnings start appearing once again. Megatron hisses when your valve tightens around his length, and it prompts him to pick up the pace.

“You are so pretty.” He growls, leaning in to recapture your dermas with his. As he kisses, he doubles his speed and the strength behind it. You moan and sob into his mouth, servos gripping him by the back of the helm. His glossa battles with yours, his sharp denta nicking you more than once. Then he switches to kissing you deeply, soulfully, like he’s found salvation in your dermas.

It’s as you’re so viscerally connected to Megatron that the heat in your core reaches a boiling point, the slow-building electricity coming to its peak. Your valve walls spasm, the giving mesh convulsing in the telltale sign of your overload on the horizon.

Somehow accomplishing it, Megatron kisses you deeper, his faceplates flush and hot against yours. A particularly hard grind of his spike on the sensitive nodes of your valve has you gasping into the silver mech’s mouth. Your optics squeeze shut, you feel like your core is about to explode with heat—

Your second overload hits, just as spectacular and wonderful as the first. Electrified charges bounce between the mesh of your valve and Megatron’s throbbing spike, transfluid soaking him and yourself once again. It’s only after your audials tingle that you realize you’ve screamed loudly enough to reset them. Your systems crash, processors overheated and cooling fans hitching and trembling. With a hiss and a long grunt, Megatron follows you over the edge as well.

Warmth blooms in your core, pleasure nodes and receptors picking up the hot liquid feel of Megatron’s transfluid deep inside you. It comes out in spurts, and he rides his overload by continuing to push into you. As your optics come back online, you catch him hunching over you, ceasing his thrusts in favor of pressing as close as he can, spike still weeping transfluid and coating your inside walls.

Megatron hisses and groans, his frame shivering just once as he finishes, lazily bucking his hips thrice to empty himself completely. He doesn’t disengage his spike, leaving it to soften in your overworked valve. You can’t feel your peds, not after the overload you just experienced, and your entire frame shudders when he nips at your neck cables once again.

For a while, he hovers above you, his EM field embracing your frame. Softly, your servos caress his upper back struts, the tips of your digits dancing along his seams. His servos finally release your hips, revealing he’s left shallow dents in your armor. No matter, you’d wear them proudly. 

“Do you have fiber cloths in your refresher?” Megatron asks, breaking the comfortable silence, his vocal processor crackling only slightly. A twitch of the helm is the best “Yes” you can offer, and brutally Megatron parts from you, drawing a soft whimper as his spike and warmth leave you. The thought of sliding your interface panel back on crosses your mind, but your anterior node and valve are still throbbing so tenderly you can’t will yourself to do it.

You hadn’t realized you closed your optics until Megatron’s approaching pedsteps makes you open them again. He stands before your sprawled, ruined frame, a sheer fiber cloth in his servo, reaching to clean you. Silently, he wipes up the glowing transfluid that’s stained your berth, then moves to clean what’s left on your body.

For a long few moments, the sounds of your cooling fans cycling down, wings softly scraping on your berth, and Megatron’s movements fill your habsuite. At some point, you hear the distinct click of Megatron’s interface panel closing and you tilt your helm up to see him putting his spike away. Also distinctly, the slight burn of soreness as Megatron wipes your exposed valve of excess transfluid.

You’d need to wash regardless, but it’s the thought that counts.

“That was...” And you have no words. Your voice sounds distant and far away, like you’re listening to yourself whisper from miles away. Megatron hums to fill your silence, then you hear the muffled sound of the cloth being discarded somewhere in your room.

“May I join you for the night?” Your Lord’s question is far more polite than it needs to be, considering the circumstances, but it’s 

“Of course.” Your answer is quick and sure, marked by the tremendous effort you put in to roll onto your side, even though you still can’t quite feel your legs. You watch Megatron around your berth and sit at your side. He stretches, silver armor plates shifting and whirring back into place, the length of his back struts revealing his hidden Energon lines.

Then he swings his peds up and lays beside you like it’s the most normal action he’s ever done. Though you do have to scoot over until your wings stick out past the edge.

“I would like for this to be a repeated venture,” Megatron teases after he settles himself, “And if you will accept, for this to be continued past a successful newspark creation.”

He glances at you out the corner of his optic, its glow dimmed. You smile.

He’s never been one for grand romantic gestures, never one to speak about softer, kinder things like “love” or “sparkbonding”. It’s unbecoming of him, the Leader of the Decepticons, former gladiator of Kaon, dark Lord and powerful Master. You don’t know if he’d ever pose the actual question, or if it will remain as nebulous, vague riddles and coded phrases for you to decipher and analyze. It isn’t in Lord Megatron’s making to be tender— At least not in the explicit regards.

“I want nothing less for the sire of my offspring.” You reply, your frame curling around the curve of his chassis, servo finding the same spot it always had: Right above his insignia, above his spark. His engine rumbles evenly, the steady drumming could bring you to power down, though you’re kept awake by the pleasant ache between your legs, the chill of the Nemesis, and the pride in bearing your Lord an heir. 

~ * ~ * ~

epilogue

Your berth is too small, much too small, for two Cybertronians attempting to recharge upon it. Megatron keeps an arm wrapped under and around you to prevent you from falling off, your frame halfway atop his. One of your servos rests under your helm, the other lazily traces invisible shapes on his broad chassis. Both of your EM fields mingle, the waves pulsing to each other in rhythm.

Earthen hours have passed since your coupling, and though you’re tired, you find yourself unable to slip into recharge.

“My Lord?” You catch his attention, Megatron optics flickering back as he pulls himself from the onset of recharge. Part of you regrets keeping him awake— Primus only knows how many sleepless nights your leader subjects himself to— and the other part of you quietly marvels at how he was nearly dozing in your arms. What show of trust is as great as that?

“If I am to carry, this means the Decepticon cause loses one of its strongest warriors—” You sigh happily as the warlord shifts so that his servo rubs your wings, tenderly caressing sensitive transformation seams and Energon lines. What more you wanted to say dies on your glossa, too caught up in the tender display of affection your Lord gives you.

“A temporary hindrance.” Megatron rumbles, shuttering his optics once again and stating, “The Decepticons will prevail.”

It falls quiet, fully so for a handful of clicks until you pipe up again.

“... And, we will need protoforms. And transitionary metals and alloys. And start the process of distilling Energon into low-grade, sparkling-safe—”

Megatron silences you with a deep kiss, one that has you purring in delight and cupping his faceplates. He lingers on your dermas for a few beats, his EM field heavy and warm on yours, lulling you closer to recharge. Megatron parts, settling down on his back struts, his frame creaking and hissing air as he relaxes. Then he sighs:

“We will discuss technicalities in the morning.”

[my-naughty-writings-and-musings]

Oh my god those Bee and Elita-1 hcs were perfection! *Kisses fingertips* may I request some saucy hcs of Earthspark Megatron? What do you think he enjoys most?

Ahhhh thank you!! I was already working on some for him, so you read my mind!! Enjoy some saucy Reader x Megatron!

(Note: I've got a headcanon bots can knock up aliens, including organics.)

1. His horniness exists on a a broad spectrum that stretches from "happy to be here" all the way to "feral rutting to save the species", and a wide array of behaviours can be enjoyed between. When more relaxed, he'll take his time to undress you, and his flirting will lean towards being almost poetic. The more desperate he is, however, the more you can expect to lose an article of clothing to his overly eager servos. Privacy matters very little once he's truly desperate, and it's also quite difficult to get all of his mass out of sight, so he's become a master of stealth. A small back hallway at GHOST is more than sufficient for him.

2. He's too ashamed to admit it to most anyone, but he has a colossal breeding kink, and the fact he can impregnate you fills him with so many conflicting feelings. There's some part of him that wants it more than anything; to spark you up, watch you swell with his sparkling, and bring new life to his incredibly endangered species. At the same time, he feels terribly guilty just for having these thoughts, and he's certain the guilt is warranted for too many reasons to count. One in particular is how selfish he feels to ask such a thing of you. Still, the desire is there, and should you discover it and convince him you want to try... Clear your schedule for the next week or so.

3. He thinks it's silly, but one of his favorite places to make love is the forest. Cybertron had some, but he was rarely able to explore them, and those on earth have given him a second chance to enjoy the tranquility. When he's (reasonably) certain the two of you are alone, he'll always be down for a quickie in the woods.

[skylarkking]

My list of NSFW headcannons for the TFA Autobots because I'm a degenerate. NSFW under cut.

Optimus

Really sensitive audial fins. Kiss or gently bite those and he MELTS

Definetly a twunk although VERY CLOSE to being a twink

Prefers to give oral over all else. I mean, he's got them BJ lips

Shivers when digits are lightly traced down his chassis

Tends to whimper during interface

Sentinel and Optimus were fuckbuddies

Ratchet

During his college years he was an absolute slut

Party Ambulance was his nickname

Very vocal during interface

He once participated in an orgy with 6 other bots

Not much of a party animal because of his age

Still knows how to do the fancy rope work from the BDSM sessions he use to attend

Prowl

Look you cannot convince me that Prowl hasn't had a kinky past

Like with that level of flexibility? Cmon

Probably did pole dancing

Huge bottom energy

Favorite position is probably doggy style

Seems to be the type to like pet play

I bet he likes the thought of being pinned down

Bumblebee

Overloads quickly but can last an insane amount of rounds

Gives off switch vibes

Into bots bigger than he is (size kink)

Sometimes gets too cocky for his own good

Inexperienced as hell but he tries

Horndog

Bulkhead

Huge into aftercare

Becomes massive teddy bear after interface

When he overloads he sometimes clings too tightly and immediately apologizes after

Because he's soft in nature I feel like that transfers to how he has interface

Prefers a slow and passionate pace rather than a quickie

Jazz

Jazz gives off vibes of a guy who has done pretty much everything yet bots are still shocked when they find out

"You did [such and such]? Why didn't you tell me?!" "You didn't ask."

Likes music to play during interface

Seems to be the type to have a lower sex drive due to his laid back nature

But that won't stop him if asked

Has fragged Sentinel just to shut him up when he's in a heat cycle

Sentinel

Whiny ass brat bottom

Even more of a little bitch boy when during his heat cycle

Secretly had a thing for Elita-1 in a frat boy kind of way

Has a huge kink for being yelled at by smaller bots

You cannot tell me he doesn't have some sort of knot mod on his spike

Jet twins

Adorably innocent

Yet oddly kinky

Since technically they are two halves of the same protoform they can feel eachother's sensations

Like if Jetfire is getting head Jetstorm can feel it as if he were the one getting it

They do everything together, and I mean everything

But I feel like Jetfire is more naive than Jetstorm so Jetstorm has to explain some things

The twins may or may not secretly want to blow Sentinel

Blurr

Definetly dated Longarm (aka Shockwave) or at least fragged him

Way hornier than the other bots because, like his movement speeds, his heat cycles happen faster than others

Vocal af, so much so that his partner(s) have to gag him to get him to shut up

Prefers his spike over his valve because he likes to frag bots silly with his speed

Ultra Magnus

You cannot tell me he and Megatron havent banged at least once during the war

Acts all serious but has a huge kink for praise

Jerks off a lot when he has the time

Despite his age his sex drive is still up there

I feel like if you kissed his servos like he was some sort of princess he'd blush SO HARD

So yeah, my headcannons for the TFA Autobots has been released to the world. Maybe I'll do Decepticons next.

[myloveforfanfictonisendless]

Saw this and couldn't hold back myself from writing it posted it in my reblogged but none saw so posting it as og

I can imagine the chaos in Optimus's head if he finds out his soulmate is MEGATRON'S hybrid child.

The team getting to know the information through a third party source....

Team prime: so that's means y/n is MEGATRON'S child!!

Y/n: It seems like it *distraught*

Optimus: * silently brooding in the corner*

Y/n: *notices* Optimus? Love?

In Optimus's brain: so my soulmate is MEGATRON'S child.....My once brother ,long time friend and now my arch enemy whom I can't get enough of every day as he is an annoying bucket head who wants nothing more than to piss me off due to his whimpering jealousy of not being the chosen one because of his display of violent nature in achieving the higher status by power and I fucked that mech's child on numerous times in my berthroom, in shower, in side my truck......SOooooooo I had INTERCOURSE WITH MY Niece AND I AM HER UNCLE...IS THIS INCEST? IS THIS WRONG NOnonononono we are not actually related plus I love y/n more than my spark despite the origin of her parental units and I never had bad intentions with her when I decided to court her. Plus we are chosen by the Primus to be soulmates. We would never have guessed how other ways we could be connected if we didn't receive this.... information right? Right!?

Y/n: OPTIMUS!?

Optimus's brows snap together and bring him back into reality.

Y/n: is something bothering you?

Optimus: * conceal his inner thought and shake his head* Nothing concerning little one *cant help but notice your hand on your now visual exposed swollen belly*

His heart is always over cloud nine when his eyes catch glimpses of your belly (blame his breed kink if you want to).

It is a new chapter for him to start a family with his soulmate whom he truly cherishes.

But those sweat bullets will definitely start gliding once everything will be out of the bag and Megatron will chase him across the universe to cut off his spike for sparking his child and maybe later consider having his head too.

With an exhausting sigh, optimus shakes his head again, giving himself mental notes to prepare himself to run a marathon once the war is over.

And here is Megatron's reaction for the curious people

@cyberrose2001 @compaculaaa @tfp-enthusiast @techni-cal-writing

[spectralquartzafterdark]

Bayverse Megatron with an emotional support human 👀 to take care of his every need if ya know what I'm saying 😏🤭

AFAB!Reader x Bayverse!Megatron (I guess this is my life now. -Rosie) Petplay kink? If you squint. Post Atonment/Post War based on the novels.

It was a funny term to say the least. Emotional support human. As if you were some pet he had found on the streets. No matter, you did serve a similar purpose even if it was... unintended. Though, you provided so much more.

His claw curved as you tried to find purchase. Wanting to find friction. He had been in quite the awful mood and you may have accidentally over corrected it. While his mood was much better - he clearly had something else on his circuits.

"Come on now. You're so much better than this. Just ask for what you want." He teased, sharp dentas bared in a grin that was almost too uncanny for you to handle.

"Please..." you could barely breathe as he pushed a digit against the fabric of your clothes.

"Please, what? A leader cannot provide for his underlings unless they are specific. Isn't that what you told me." He chuckled optics watched as you struggled to speak.

"Oh, for Primus sake. I need to overload. You're teasing is too damn much!" You managed to spit out, "I don't care how, just frag, be gentle."

Megatron's vents whirred in approval as he carefully scooped you up into his servos. His struts releasing as he sat down on the concrete of the oversized garage. He was sharp and knew he had to be careful with how he handled you, but he admittedly enjoyed watching you squirm and gasp as he worked you out of your clothes.

This wasn't his first time with you either. He knew your buttons. It's why he was able to press them so easily and without trying. If he had his way you'd be riding his glossa for hours. But, with his current form it was too dangerous. His dentas were far too sharp and you were far too soft to risk it. As if he needed Prime up his aft anymore than he already was.

"I will stop. If you ask." he said optics meeting your eyes.

"O-okay, please, just..." you didn't even get to complete your sentence.

One of his slender digits was already curled deep inside of you. He could feel every soft bump and curve. He couldn't detect much sensation, but he could feel textures and he clumsily dug for that soft spot inside of your aching pussy.

When he found it he could feel the pressure of you clamping around him and your vocals almost harmonizing in his audials. It was music to him. After all he said he wanted to create - so that's exactly what he was doing in the moment.

It just so happened he created pleasure. He pressed into your g-spot rhythmically and watched as your entire body reacted to his ministrations. He quite enjoyed how you reacted and decided to test the waters and added another digit. This one however moved even deeper.

He heard your breath catch as a loud moan escaped your chest. He felt a bit of pride as your body almost went fully limp.

"Feels so good. Frag." you cried out feeling impossibly full.

"Then relax and enjoy it." he growled.

When you relented and moaned again he moved his digits at a steady pace. His optics observed your body and when he noted it was time he slowly increased the pace. Faster and faster until.

"MEGATRON." his name ripping from your throat like a desperate prayer and something in his Spark liked that.

He let your ride out your orgasm and slowed to a stop before he carefully retracted his digits. He noted the glossy fluids left in his wake and a mischievous smile graced his faceplate. The slick that covered his digits made his circuits race.

"I should let you correct my moods more often. You'll be rewarded." he said pulling you to optic level.

He had plans, but first you needed some training.

For your safety of course. Perhaps having a human wasn't so bad after all.

[enigma-selfships]

Blitzwing NSFW Alphabet

So this has been in my drafts since February, and I finally decided to post it after seeing the lack of Blitzwing content. First time making an NSFW alphabet, so hopefully it’s not awful. Enjoy~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Attentive, he’ll be asking you a lot of questions. Was that alright? Are you okay? Did you enjoy yourself? If you somehow got injured during your activities he’ll be on it before you even fully come down from your high.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It’s a tie between your eyes and your thighs. Your face is so gorgeous.. but damn. He could spend all day just kneading the thickness of your legs while staring right into the windows of your soul.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Blitzwing is a nasty boy. Whatever you want to do with cum, you name it and he’ll do it. Things will be getting messy. Although his favorite spot to cum is deep inside you, it’s just so warm and perfect. You’re keeping a part of him with you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Before you officially got together, Blitzwing saved a lot of photos of you to his processor. Nearly all of them were without your knowledge. He definitely… got his use out of them.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

While he’s not a virgin, I think it’s safe to say Blitzwing doesn’t get a lot of action. Especially post triple-change. Not a lot of bots are interested in a mentally unstable German science experiment.

He could fool anyone though, as his eagerness makes him a quick and happy learner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Breeding press. Blitzwing loves having you pinned down and immobile, thighs hiked over his hips as he gazes into your beautiful eyes. Plus the chance (however unlikely) of you getting sparked always sends a thrum into his spark.

Sometimes though, he’ll be on his knees, pulling you up to his lap, so only your shoulders are touching the ground as he hammers into you~

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends on the personality. Hothead takes sex very seriously. To no one’s surprise, Random is usually very goofy, although he was occasionally moments of seriousness, usually while he’s on the mission of eating you out. However Icy tends to be the most balanced out of the three.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well… he’s a robot….

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

When it’s all said and done, sex is only one of the ways Blitzwing shows you how much he loves you. He wants you to feel it, and this is the best way how. He really tries to show you he loves you during sex, even if it may get lost in translation occasionally.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before he met you, almost never. Maybe once in a millennia, but it never felt satisfying. After he met you though, and especially before you got together he did relatively frequently. He just couldn’t help himself, you really get his motor running.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink for sure, the thought of filling you up is enough to put him down bad for the rest of the day - completely worthless other than to fuck you good and hard.

He also wouldn’t be opposed to bondage, particularly on himself. Bonus points if you tie him up so he can’t move and then tease him until he cries.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Oh, anywhere that you’re comfortable with. Blitzwing literally has no preference. And as a bonus, no shame!

Want to fuck on Megatrons throne? What about the control console? How about in a back alleyway? He will do anything with you, anywhere.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Really, just being around you. His mind will wonder and he’ll find one thing or another to work himself up over.

One thing that will get him going real fast is tight pants. Ooooh how he loves those tight pants.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

NO SHARING. He already feels a strange bit of jealousy between his three personalities, he does NOT want to share you with a whole other bot.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Give give give. Oh this boy loves to love! Lay down and let him blow/eat you out. He’ll go for hours, the sheets getting wet from your combined juices. He’s just so sloppy, he can’t help it.

As for receiving, Blitzwing just never found it as enjoyable. He gets too impatient, he’d really just rather fuck you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He tries to be slow, he really does. He wants to make you feel just how much he loves you. But unfortunately he is a tad insane, which means it will always dissolve into a hard manic fuck.

He can’t help it! He’s just that crazy about you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Oh, sign him up. Blitzwing loves quickies, something all three faces can attest to.

A quick fuck in a closet or similar is a great way to snap that attitude of his back into shape.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Anything you want, just say the word. He is up for anything you could think of.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Random and Hothead will last for hours. You absolutely will tap out before either of them will. Icy however, only tends to go for two or three, though they are long and sensual.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Why use toys when you have a long prehensile 4ft tongue? He may use them occasionally, but he really prefers to do the work himself.

One thing he is a fan of is panty vibrators. Hooking up to them and torturing you when you’re in public tickles that evil side of him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teasing is something Blitzwing loves to try to do. But as soon as he starts feeling riled up, he drops the act. He is very impatient.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Icy usually tends to bite his noises back to only soft huffing. You’ll know when he’s getting close , because he’ll start moaning.

Hothead grunts and huffs when he’s not grumbling out commands.

Random gives Starscream a run for his money. This boy can make some NOISE. Moaning, squealing, begging, you name it. Random’s mouth does not stop during sex.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Blitzwing would absolutely be into thigh fucking. Watching your thick, squishy little thighs grasping his length while you squirm and whine and drool just really gets his engine running.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Blitzwing is a big bot, and his spike is definitely proportionate. The colors match his paint job perfectly, a purple shaft with a black head and a white stripe up the top of his spike. He also has purple bio lights that line the underside.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before you came into his life? Close to zero. But now that you’re here, this bot is ready to go at the drop of a dime.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As hyper as they are, you’d think he’d just bounce right back. Nope. After making sure you’re doing alright, he’s out like a light. Nothing like a good fucking to expend all that energy.

[mychlapci]

Im a sucker for messy past relationships and I was thinking about dratchrod with past megalock. Drift never talking about it because that's part of his whole decepticon past he'd rather forget till perhaps one day he's getting tipsy with Rodimus and admits he misses getting knotted (bc it absolutely HITS for his suppressed feralness kink)

"Knotted?? By who? 👀"

"Megatron 😭"

And Rodimus had only ever heard of knot mods, never seen one irl, and of course he ends up blabbing to Ratchet about it too.

"Huh... haven't been knotted since my med school days"

And so of course Rodimus ends up with massive FOMO and manages to rope Drift into seducing Megatron for "old time's sake" (not at all hard since dratchrod hit all of Megatron's types).

Drift and Ratchet get to feel like they're young and dumb again on Megatron's knot and Rodimus is SO sure he'll be fine because he's seen his own share of wild spike mods, but the feeling of Megatron's knot just absolutely blanks his processor. Makes him whine and cry like he's getting his seals broken for the first time again.

Drift and Ratchet forgot to give Rodimus a heads up that the point of a knot mod is to encourage breeding protocols to come online - and Megatron assumes they told Rodimus too.

Really, they've got no one else to blame but themselves when Rodimus ends up sparked and a knot addict

i LOVE dratchrod taking Megatron to bed dude. Obviously there’s a lot of emotional ups and downs to be involved here, with Drift having to reconcile with yet another part of his past that he doesn’t like too much, Ratchet unraveling his deep-seated hate and fury for Megatron, and Rodimus… is just in it for a good time. 

No matter what, though, they all love Megatron’s knotting mod. i think Drift gets to go first, to break the tension in the room which mostly stems from his and Megs’ weird past involvement, shouting out when Megatron’s knot inflates inside of him, spreading open his valve to its absolute limit. Ratchet and Rodimus coo at him, tell him how well he’s doing. 

Ratchet definitely handles the knot like a pro. Rodimus… does not. He would have liked to say he did, but he was already overwhelmed by the sheer size of Megatron’s spike, so when the knot swells you know Rodimus is screaming. He turns into a puddle, completely melting at the mercy of Megatron’s knot. It’s easily the biggest thing he’s taken and fuck, it’s literally pulsing inside of him, grinding into his nodes until he doesn’t know when the last overload ended and the next one starts. 

Rodimus ends up really, really liking the knotting mod and they get Megatron involved a lot more. 

also, okay i love Rodimus getting himself knocked up because he’s too horny and dumb to think about the consequences, but if Megatron gets to knot all three of ‘em, and knotting helps kick reproduction systems back into gear, then… can we have Megatron’s three pregnant girlfriends? and no, they don’t smoke weed, it’s bad for the babies.

[valve3nthusiast]

I think I might just like imagining my faves with spike in their mouth

Rodimus "adhd" Prime with an oral fixation, having fun dicksucking because the texture of all the ridges and nodes are great to run his tongue over, and the heavy weight in his mouth just feels good

He does kinda lose track of time, though... he has a habit of mercilessly edging whoever's spike he's sucking for hours

Funny if he does this completely on accident... he's got a reputation for having the hottest mouth on the whole ship but he has no clue, he just thinks people are indulging him. Mechs will clear their schedule for a day of getting their soul sucked out through their spike, and he's just like, oh its your off shift? cool :D (clueless)

And of course he's definitely gotten around... Drift loves his mouth and even convinced Ratchet to give him a try... He talked both Magnus and Megatron into letting him "keep himself occupied" while they did paperwork, but funnily enough, nothing actually got done... He's spent a couple kink nights at Swerve's with his mouth and valve equally stuffed for the whole night... Honestly, he could probably identify most of his crew by taste and texture of their spike alone

Hmm. Wait. Editing this addendum: The crew keeps it from him on purpose because he would be absolutely insufferable if he knew he gave the best blowjobs on the Lost Light

[archie-sunshine]

Thoughts on gunformer megatron?

(Soundwave’s totally got a kink to do with it..)

when i was first getting into transformers and i learned that megatron was a fucking gun i lost it i thought it was the dumbest thing in the world.

HOWEVER- If you want my current thoughts on the matter, i'll pass you a very wonderful fic written by my lovely friend @ultravioletsodapop based on this exact topic, though with starscream instead of shockwave hehe.

ITS A GREAT FIC. you should totally read it.

[talesfromlissom]

hello everything is fine? If requests are still open, I would like to know if you can do the reaction of the Decepticons (Megatron, Tarn, Overlord and Soundwave) with a Cybertronian s/o who is a cannibal and uses a fucinheira? Is she a powerful and insane warrior? If you don't want to write, ignore it, thank you.

Fandom: Transformers (IDW?)

TW: Violence, Implied Gore, Cannablism

Rules | Ask Box | Kofi

A/N: I don’t normally do IDW requests (haven't read it all, and I also assumed that's the universe you wanted), however I recognize these characters enough that I did the request anyways because my inbox has been the sahara desert for the past couple of months Anyways I loved this request, so thank you. And yes, everything is good. 

MEGATRON

 » He puts a leash on you, sorry. 

 » Your relationship is absolutely terrifying, a lord and his loyal guard dog that eats people

 » When he first discovered your cannabalistic tendencies, he was shocked at first. He mainly just cops it up as a habit not yet broken from your upbringing. He had to do various unsavory things to survive being a low caste member, so why were you any different? 

 » relationship wise your dynamic is pretty much what is said above. You parades you around like a trophy, and sometimes even feeds you the severed limbs/organs of his prisoners. You don't mind as long as your fed apparently.

 » A long time ago, (for shits and giggles) he had said that he would use you as an execution method. Mainly for individuals that betrayed him and Megatron didn’t feel like hunting them down himself. When he saw how enthusiastic you were he made it a thing. 

 » Nothing pleases him more than letting you out of the muzzle to go ‘hunt’ and seeing you bring back a limb, organ, or seeing your intake covered in energon. It does something to him. 

 » May or may not have a predator/prey kink now 

TARN 

 » Probably the one to give you the muzzle in the first place.  

 »  You’re definitely a member of DJD by the way, I’d imagine he’d name you after the capital of his home city.

 » You and him met when he was going after yet another Decepticon traitor. He had expected to find yet another snivling coward, or a fighter. 

 » What he found was a half eaten corpse with you hovering over it. You looked wild, disheveled, but there was a sense of intelligence in your optics despite how much bloodshed you caused. 

 » And you caused alot. 

 » (Similar to Megatron) If on the rare occasion that the DJD’s current target gets away he send you on the hunt. He always orders you to bring them back alive, but he never says if they have to come back with all their limbs in tact. 

 » He prefers to kill them himself, and alternates between letting Tesarus grind them into bits or letting you eat them alive. 

 » He once had Tesarus grind a deserter into paste, and then Tarn served it to you as some fucked up smoothie. 

 » He still laughs about it to this day btw 

OVERLORD 

  » Was most likely frightened of you at first. You were strong, probably insane because you flat out ate people without a care in the world. However, that wasn’t what frightened him. 

 » You were smart. Every kill you made was calculated and precise. It was always people that the others wouldn’t notice missing. You memorized their schedule, the type of energon they had, the amount of exercise they got. 

 » Your prey was carefully, hand selected. You had certain types of people that you went after to consume, and people you avoided like the plague. 

  » At first he didn’t notice that various prisoners were going missing. He didn’t care, they couldn’t escape even if they tried. He didn’t really mind if the other Decepticons had dragged some loud mouthed Autobot out of their cells to give them a piece of their mind to be honest. 

 » And then he found a half eaten Autobot hanging from the ceiling, and that scared the hell out of him. He knew about your tendencies to devour your fellow Cybertronian, he just never thought he’d witness the aftermath. 

 » Afterwards you two come with a sort of unspoken agreement. You’re clearly settling for half cooked chow and he isn’t sure how long you’ll be satisfied with that. 

 » He keeps a close eye on you, and has a ‘list’ of your ‘most liked’ traits in a prey. Their energon type, the functionality of their frame, that sort of thing. If they happened to win enough fights, instead of Overlord giving his usual, ‘kill me or kill yourself’ dilemma, he rearranges it to ‘kill you or kill yourself’. 

 » You look completely unassuming to most, and you use that your advantage. 

 » Overlord loves seeing the look on people’s face when you don’t go for the kill, but instead open your mouth. The moment they see what’s inside they start screaming. 

 » He’ll never get tired of those noises.