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Imagine being part of the coterie, but you’re the only ship’s human on the Lost Light because no one else wants to deal with being around Megatron. You love it, but over time you miss other humans.

One day this guy just pops up out of nowhere

And you blink and throw your arms around him because nonthreatening human in your immediate area available for hugging

Rung: oh! I’m glad you like my holoform!

You: less talking more hugging please. also I’m going to ruffle your hair now

The mechs figure out how starved you are for contact and next thing you know, they all have holomatter generators. you’re getting tackled by Whirl and snuggled by Swerve and nearly squished by Rodimus (it’s ok, Ultra Magnus stopped him before you passed out)

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It's reverant, the way he holds your hands in his own. Turning, squeezing, examining every little vein and joint.

Without his holoform? Prowl absolutely dwarfs you, and treats you as though you're made of glass.

But with it? He holds you more solidly. As though he's afraid you'll leave, instead of break.

With his holoform, he can treat you more as an equal. Lace his fingers with your own. Trace your veins with feather-light touches. Watch the angles of your fingers grow sharper as you squeeze his hand in return, smiling in response to his lovestruck gaze.

[tranformerssideblog]

pick a fic!

tws/content- oral sex

“Frag…” Prowl whines, optics trained on your lips as you lap around his spike. You were the most perfect human to him, the most captivating and interesting being on this somewhat insignificant, wet little planet.

You moan around his erection, tongue swishing under the slit of his spike. His digits twitch inside of you, pressing against your walls idally, his servo against your ass, Prowl’s grip fluctuating between a gentle press and squeezing tightly. You shiver looking up at him with widened puppy eyes. The ninja-bot’s faceplates were twisted in a new, pulsating pleasure.

“Mhhn…” you whine, his digits pushing deeper into you. Prowl’s spike twitches against the back of your throat, prefluid leaking out of his spike’s slit. This was something that you had to push him to do, but something he’d enjoy more than anything. His groans send shivers down your spine, making you swallow around his spike. You two would definetely be doing this again.

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Been thinking about this one a lot. I feel like Cybertronians would enjoy pubic hair. If not enjoy, at least find it cute. Yeah we're covered in hair and it's kinda weird, but once they get over it and just enjoy the texture, things change. We have the most hair on our heads and our genitals? That's wild. Can they touch it? Big pubic hair enjoyers include all versions of Megatron. From TFA Megs who would just caress it to TFP Megan shoving his face in there. TFP Wheeljack is also shameless about his interest in it - he would be sad if you shaved. Now it's just smooth - boring smooth. You catch him grieving the loss of hair, helm in his servos. TFA Prowl is interested in all natural things - and this includes pubic hair. He appreciates it very much, it fascinates him. Even those who don't really care have resigned themselves to their fates. Hanging around their human already means they find hair strands in their intakes - head hair is more noticeable - pubic hair... not so much. All Starscreams complain about how hairy humans can be (comparing us to apes - which technically makes sense but also ow) It still doesn't stop them from eating out tho

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Being Starscream's Conjunx has to be one of the luckiest yet tragic thing ever.

He's confident, charming, intelligent and incredibly resourceful. He's rough around the edges but, he loves you with all his spark. You may not feel it, but he thinks very highly of you. If not for you, he wouldn't have the strength to rise up again after each failure.

Centuries of being Megatron's punching bad and constantly having to be on survival mode made him snappy and defensive.

His spark feels like its going to burst whenever you show your concern for his injuries, physical or emotional. Underneath his ego and show of self-importance, Starscream has never truly felt worthy of being loved. Despite that, you do. And it makes all the difference for him.

He always says if he ever became the leader of the Decepticons, you'd be his Second-In-Command. What a power couple <3

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Mother Nature hit me with the Crimson Tide, and I feel like absolute shit! 🥳 Also, I've been on a Lost Light crew kick since reading your Free Use fics, so how would the crew react/help out with a fem!human on her period?

I’m sorry! I hope your periods aren’t too intense!

Transformers x reader, AFAB gender neutral reader, racially ambiguous, little blurbs of thoughts

Rodimus is hitting me like the type of guy to ask what size your coochie is when shopping for pads. He’s well meaning but has no idea what to do about human menstrual cycles. He asks Ratchet but uhhhh Ratchet didn’t major in organics so he’s just kind of 🤷. Instead Rodimus decides to rub your tummy with his warm metal fingers. He’s kind of mad at himself for not knowing what to do. He just hates seeing you in any pain because to Cybertronians humans are super fragile.

Drift would lay you down on a bunch of cushions, weighted eye mask on, incense burning, heat pad on your tummy and also different crystals all over your body. Drift is cooing at you and stroking your hair while you nap then he yells at Ratchet when the doc bot unknowingly barges in and turns on the lights.

Ratchet, as said before, knows jack shit about what to do. He does some research and just suggests pain meds, water, and rest. He definitely has you wearing a heat pad and massages your tummy. He feels kind of useless trying to help you because he feels like he should know more and be doing more but what else can he do outside of suggesting a vasectomy?

Tailgate thinks you’re dying. He smells blood on you then just picks you up and moves you around until he can find where you’re bleeding from. All in public btw. Once he realizes where you’re bleeding from he’s taking you to Ratchet and when Ratchet doesn’t know what to do he takes you to Cyclonus and Cyclonus is also convinced you’re dying. You have to explain to both of them you’re fine and it’s just a natural part of your life. Tailgate is at your beck and call for anything and everything. Tea? On it! Heat pad? Right here! Massage? Which type?

Swerve straight up asks you when he smells blood on you. It’s not that he’s trying to be rude or embarrass you, he’s just genuinely asking. Swerve knows about periods and what to do from the different shows and movies he’s seen. He bundles you up in a blanket, plops a heating pad on your tummy, gives you some pain meds, and a box of chocolates. If you don’t like chocolate he’ll still try to convince you to eat them because he thinks they’ll make you feel better.

Megatron is going insane internally. On the outside he’s stone faced but on the inside he is freaking out. You just??? Bleed??? From your coochie???? Like Tailgate, when he smells blood on you he thinks something happened. Megatron will first think that he hurt you somehow then think that you hurt yourself somehow and go into scolding you. When you assure him that no it’s not either of those, he’s confused. You have to explain periods to a millions of years old mech. Once he understands he’s keeping you on him 24/7. Megatron becomes ridiculously over protective and tries to do everything for you.

Cyclonus thinks you’re dying when Tailgate brings you to him. You have to assure them both that you’re mostly fine and what’s happening is normal. Cyclonus doesn’t believe you because there is no way such a fragile, squishy species such as humans can bleed for a week straight and survive. However, once he sees evidence that you’re not lying and you are in fact menstruating he earns a new respect not only for you but for all humans.

Ultra Magnus goes immediately into trying to find the source of your wound when he smells blood. When he realizes it’s from your crotch, he gets a little bashful and urges you to seek a doctor. When you tell him about periods he’s honestly grossed out. Humans are so messy as it is plus you all do that once a month? Ultra Magnus is making sure that you’re staying clean not only for your health but also for his sanity. He doesn’t want to clean blood off his desk. He also doesn’t want someone smelling blood on you and thinking you’d be easy to kill.

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Anesthesia truth (Dratchet, Cygate, MagsMegs/Minimegs, Rodiclash x Reader) SFW

You went through a surgery that required you asleep. When you finally woke up, someone was by your side, looking at you with gentle eyes, your hand in theirs.

"You're awake. How do you feel?"

Except you weren't conscious enough to have a proper conversation.

Drift and Ratchet

You wake up, mind foggy, unable to have control over your body, not that you were even aware you had a body right now. Everything around you was overwhelming and weird. Weird just like the two big guys at your sides.

"Hello yn, how do you feel? You've been sleeping for the entire day." says the cat-looking rather handsome dude.

"Huh?"

"They're still under the effects of anesthesia, so don't be surprised if they are uncoordinated." says the big pretty orange one.

"Yooo, where is there? who the fuck are you, pretty boys?"

Drift hides his smile behind his servo, and Ratchet looks at your vitals, finding it funny your heartbeat sped up at the 'pretty boys'. Your weak organic EM field radiating confusion.

"How do you feel yn? Any discomfort?"

You look at Ratchet in the eyes, yours almost closed, maybe trying to decripte him.

"Discomfort?"

"Yes, are you comfortable?"

"YOOOO-"

"yn don't scream."

"Oh, you look comfortable. Both. Kitty kitty kitty pspsps~" you call Drift, extending your arms as if you were really trying to catch the bot's attention.

Drift tries to not loose it. He takes your so tiny hand in his servo, giggling. You look down to your hand and give him an horrendious look.

"Why you so big, kitty? Why do you have hands? We can't have cuddles sessions like that, you'll crush me".

"Don't worry *wheezes* we will have plenty when you're free to go, sweetspark".

"Nooooo, you're too tall, you'll crush me..." you start having tears in your eyes sobbing style, really sad to die crushed by the big cat you want to pet. "I want neow. Where's big boy? BIG BOY I WANT CUDDLE NEEOW!"

Drift hold his tank, laughing so hard he coughs while Ratchet tries to calm you down, dries your tears, asking you to remain calm, to not scream, that you will have your cuddles but not while you're still on the medbay's slab.

In the end, you won, both laying by your sides with their arms protecting you from the light, and you felt asleep again holding onto them like your life depends on it. They both knew you were having a very good sleep when drool came out of your mouth, babbling about your tall boyfriends transforming into a sandwich and leaving for the war. Ratchet had to silence Drift from laughing at your state for not risking waking you up.

Cyclonus and Tailgate

Emerging from the darkness of anesthesia, you saw two dots of colors. Not aware you were moving your arms, your left hand splats on the purple grey face in front of you and the blue one reach for your hand, trying to gently remove it.

"Oh, purple, my favorite color... pretty purple, pretty" you say as you pet not so elegantly.

Sharp but carefull digits come to take off your hand from his face plate, he helds it like a fragile treasure he found.

"Hello yn, are you feeling well?" says Cyclonus

"You're finally awake! I started to worry yn."

You just blankly stare at them, but not really at them, rather the void that is catching your attention. Big zoom out.

"Are we having Taco Bell? I want- I want a burrito with... oh my god..."

Cyclonus and Tailgate look at each other, not knowing what the hell you're talking about, but Ratchet did say you were gonna be weird for a moment.

"Purpuuuule, i love you, i looove you so muuuuchh purple!"

"Shush, yn, don't get too loud, lay back."

Tailgate gently makes you lay back on the slab and you finally notice his presence.

"Oh you're beautiful. Can we have Taco Bell later?"

"What is Taco Bell, sweetie?"

"Fast nom nom, duh."

Oh the attitude.

You close your eyes, going inconscious for a bit, then waking up again.

"I WILL NOT TOLERATE THAT BEHAVIOR!" you scream, imitating Ultra Magnus repressing Rodimus.

"SHUSH shhhh! Yn you can't scream like that, we're in the medbay!"

Tailgate put his servo on your mouth to muffle your screams. Loud stomps are heard before Ratchet comes in in a rush.

"Are they okay? What happened? Why did they scream like that?"

"No worries doctor, they are just... still out".

"They were just imitating Ultra Magnus, no worries."

Ratchet still check on them and their vitals, his presence seems to keep you calm. Once Ratchet left, you turn to look at Tailgate.

"Who's that?"

"It's Ratchet."

"He scary".

With Cyclonus lovingly rubbing his thumb over your tiny hand and Tailgate telling you about some adventures, you fell back asleep, leaning into the minibot's frame.

Ultra Magnus and Megatron

Waking up, blinking, looking around, and two massive forms appear in front of you, and you just stare.

"Hello yn. You're finally awake. How are you feeling."

You stare at the blue one, the one who talked.

"Who are you?"

"It's me, Ultra Magnus dear."

"Oh, oohh Ultra Magnus, you know, i've always admire you, you do such a beautiful work, you're so strict, i like that, thumb's up mate."

"And there's Megatron. We're here for you."

"Oh, Megatron... "

You sound disappointed, okay, no problem.

You do grabby hands at him, blank eyes demanding him. He leans in, carefull to not overwhelm you with his size. Your soft hands grab his cheeks and you tug on his helm, approaching him to your face until your two forhead are connected. You close your eyes, soaking in his presence. Megatron covers your little hands with his, big thumb gently rubbing your skin.

"Meggie... megsie-pie... you're a pie..."

"Heh, if it is to your liking."

"I have pies... my two pies... magnus apple pie... meggsie rhubarb pie..."

And without notice, you bite his nose. Magnus turns his helm to not show his smirk and Megatron just... accepts.

"Is it to your taste?"

"You're scrompulitiously delicious."

With great care, he marks you let go of his nose and gestures to Magnus to join him. They lay back on the slab, you kept on Megatron's chest. With precise patern on your back and the soft rumble of his internals, you mumble again about pastries and marmelades before drifting back to sleep.

Rodimus and Thunderclash

Opening your eyes was a heavy task. All the muscules in your body felt limp, your eyelids tired. There are two guys in front of you, and they seem to be into a conversation. you slide your hand on a bigger one, blue connected to a very big arm.

Thunderclash turns his helm towards you, feeling your little fingers move against his palm. Rodimus does the same, and both their expression relax.

"Hello yn, how are you feeling?"

Still unable to talk, too lost to even know where you are, their presence is somewhat calming. Rodimus brings his own servo to you and you take it, eyes closing and opening. Trusting them both.

A third guy enters, talk to your two mechs and takes a look at the machines you rely on. Then leaves.

Rodimus and Thunderclash have both their focus on you.

"Hey buddy, you took a good nap during surgery? I bet you did. Still sleepy aren't you?" softly says Rodimus.

"You did great. It was scary but you did it like a champ. You deserve a good rest and a little gift. You have been so brave" says Thunderclash before opening his subspace and pulling out a oh so tiny plushie and places it next to you. Rodimus pouts and rolls his optics, mumbling that Thunderclash was doing too much, but the bigger mech didn't mind, liking that Rodimus has that blue tint on his cheeks.

You see a plushie being brought to you and you take it slowly, not breaking eye contact with the kind big guy. You close your eyes and bring the warmer hand to your head, holding the plushie near your chest. You feel tired, but comfortable. You have two kind guys looking after you, taking care of you.

Rodimus caress your hair in a single pattern, spark softened by you. You were really scared to go through the surgery, asking him and Thunderclash to be by your side to prepare yourself for it. Trusting him.

Thunderclash falls deeper in love with you, just like that, your little hand holding onto him. Even if it seems you don't remember them now, too lost into the effects of anesthesia, you trust them. Your little heart knowing their love for you.

Feeling you falling asleep again, Rodimus joins you on the slab, drapping himself around you to keep you warm. He pouts again when Thunderclash does the same, holding you both near his frame, but Rodimus doesn't argue, even snuggles JUST a bit.

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Minimus Ambus, sending a message to Megatron and Rodimus about the meeting which started 10 minutes ago. “Unfortunately, I will not be attending this scheduled meeting and have to delay for an indeterminate amount of time.”

Rodimus, teasing Minimus in his best Minimus impression: “What do you mean you won’t go? These meetings are important with regulating-”

Minimus, looking down at the human curled up in his lap in a deep sleep: “I can’t attend. The human liaison has chosen me as their sleeping quarters. I can’t disturb them.”

Megatron: “… understood. Send an updated meeting at your earliest convenience.”

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No...don't make me have a crush on him

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Here's me, begging for more soft Megs

Here’s the sequel to your first request.

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” 

It was a simple question that had passed your lips before you could truly process it. You took another sip of whatever contraband concoction Swerve had come across, or maybe smuggled through the airlock. But it was good and sweet and had a nice bite to it, so you really couldn't care less.

Megatron cleared his throat and took a sip from his energon cube. It was so pungent that you could smell it across the room, like minerals and paint thinner. “It appears we do.” He pointedly kept his gaze from you. The red light of his optics bleed onto his high cheeks. “You tasted divine.” A sip from shaking hands. 

You couldn’t help the smile that spread lopsidedly across your face. “I’m glad you think so. I’d do it again.” You didn’t mind how loose the drink had made your lips, grateful for the confidence. 

He studied your face. “As would I.”

“How long have you been writing about me?”

The delicate mechanisms within Megatron’s optic whirled. The soft mesh of his faceplate allowed them to widen a sliver. You immediately decided that the soft shock suited him well. Then he narrowed his optics. “How did you know?”

“I realized during the meeting.” You twirled a metal rose from your desk between your fingers as you drained your glass. Your tongue slipped out to collect a drop of the amber liquid from your lips. You chuckled as Megatron’s cooling fans clicked on. It was a warm laugh, one that Megatron could write a million more sonnets about. “You use a lot of organic imagery in your more affectionate poems. And before you ask, I love the ones I’ve already read.” 

“I appreciate-” He cleared his throat again, “Thank you.”

You sighed, fondly if not a bit disappointed. You really had hoped that you were past the stiff shoulder struts. “Maybe now that everything's out in the open, I’ll get to see more of it.” All you could offer him was a reassuring smile as you crossed the room and closed the distance between you both. “And if I’m really lucky…” You place a hand on his cheek, watching as your hand blocked out portions of soft red light. “I’ll get to hear it in your own voice.”

Megatron softened. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a sentimental romantic.”

“Nor would I have taken you for one, but here we are.” 

He pressed his forehead against yours the best he could while mass displaced. “I don’t-”

You placed a finger over his mouth before he could finish. “Well I love you so that doesn't exactly matter right now.”

Megatron froze, taking on a look of adoring shock for the second time that evening. He didn't say a word, merely taking hold of either side of his helmet and lifting. The petal-like panels flared out like those of a sunflower, all complimented with yellow and black hazard lines.

It was your turn to be shocked. “Wow…” The light of his optics softly highlighted the high points of your face. You look at Megatron, eye to eye.

Megatron, ever the opportunist, dives in for another sweet kiss, leaving his arms at his sides. Leaving you room to push him away.

You kissed him without a second thought, tasting sweet metal and contraband alcohol on your tongue.

[tranformerssideblog]

Imagine telling Megatron "I read some of your poetry" and he has a sheer moment of panic thinking "oh fuck oh shit they found my smut poetry of them oh my god they'll hate me forever", it ends up it was just one of his short and sweet poems buts still its fun to think about

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not to sound insane but i'm bedridden at the thought of being intimate with these giant bots — no, not interfacing (although that's also great), but rather the nervous brushing of fingers against servos, the firm press of skin against metal, the bend and curve of muscle to cradle the shape of their armors. 

fort max, who came to life in the crux of war and violence, wiping a stray eyelash from the corner of your eye, servos faintly trembling as they tentatively cross the space between your bodies. unsure and afraid of hurting you, he tries not to exert too much effort, constantly reminding himself that just because his mass was displaced doesn't mean he didn't have the strength to tear mechs apart with his bare hands. his optics, garnet red under the distant starlight, soften the moment you lean your cheek against his open palm; the skin under his touch, smooth and organic and alive with a warmth he didn't know existed. 

brainstorm running his digits playfully over your face — tickling your nose, your chin, your ear — causing you to giggle against the pillows as he conducts a thorough examination for the purpose of 'science', using it as an excuse to 'stimulate your nerves' and make you smile. here, face to face with him above the mattress, with laughter embracing your bodies like a weighted blanket, you let him gently trace his servos across your lips. the scientist, drunk on studying you. 

swerve letting you throw your arms around his neck — body melting against his chest plates, nose already buried at the crook of his neck cables to express your sympathies. you were one of the few people who see through the chink in his optimistic armor, always trying to cheer him up even before he even realized he needs the comfort. and how can he not feel better already, when you were looking up at him like he hung the stars for you? 

perceptor catching himself in awe of human irises and the myriad of colors they take after. he thinks it's beyond fascinating that, for some, the eyes reflect the color of their seas, cerulean blue dissolving against white foam. and other times even the forest, their strange and halcyon woodlands dense with emerald trees that sway with the wind. but most curious of all, he thinks, is the color of the earth : darker than rust yet radiant like the sun — a shade that doesn't naturally occur on his planet, swimming like liquid gold behind your eyes.

megatron, elusive and distant, anchored by the delicate weight of your fingers above his servos. when he saw your hand sliding across your lap from under the metal table — using the distraction caused by whirl in the middle of a crowded night at swerves — to move closer to his, megatron had thought about stopping you. he thought about retracting his hand to excuse himself back to his hab-suite. but the ex-warlord is tired and worn, powerless against the sight of your affections. so he let it happen — and it was fleeting, only a brush and barely a touch. yet it went straight to his spark like a jolt of electricity. just like that, under your fragile, tiny hands, the mighty has fallen. 

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I love your Mtmte Megatron x reader stories, and I re-read them a bunch of times because they are so good! And I yearn for more soft Megs. You write him so well.

If you're up for a little request- how about their first kiss? Like, how does it happen? Who started it? Do they talk about their feelings after that or pretend it never happened?

You have no idea how much I love writing some soft Megatron. Something about poets and pining just does it for me (so much so that MTMTE Megatron x reader fic was what finally convinced me to read MTMTE). Feel free to ask for a sequel, because I already have ideas.

I personally don’t think that Megatron would initiate anything unless he thought it was his last chance, like with my DOTL fic. That being said…

—

Another long day, and another even longer meeting. You checked your watch and sighed: it had only been an hour, and Ultra Magnus clearly wasn’t planing on stopping any time soon. You don’t even notice when you had pressed your face into the palm of your hand, squishing your cheek in the way that some of the less respectful mechs would coo over you for. 

You exhale, amused at the thought as a brief memory moves your thoughts away from the meeting. You remembered the look on Megatron’s face the first time he had seen it happen, the exact way his optics narrowed, and a more prominent frown that usual set across his face. The way he shot the bots a sharp comment: “Shouldn’t you all be working instead of tempting an intergalactic incident?” 

You just couldn’t help but smile into your hand, your pointer finger resting over your lip. He picked you up after that, and let you sit on his shoulder for the rest of the day. You had watched the way that his optics hilighted the bridge of his nose and the edges of his helmet, the slight quirk of his lip whenever you shifted to lean into him just a little bit more.

“It’s warm,” you lie to yourself, “He just has nice warm neck cabling.” You suppress a chuckle and shoot him a look.

He was looking back at you with the same softness that he used when he thought you wouldn’t notice. You always did. It was a nice feeling, it was nice to be appreciated. There definitely wasn’t any feelings attached. Definitely. Absolutely no chance that you enjoy how he guards your honor. No way. 

You glance at him again. He’s still looking at you with a look as soft as scarlet rose petals. He writes something down, probably notes. You never know though, he could be composing a new poem about his light in the dark, his little rose…

Fu-

“And that concludes todays meeting.”

You jump in your seat. Your eyes snap to Ultra Magnus. You straighten your back and take a moment to clear your throat. “Yes, of course Sir.” You glance around his face, taking a moment before you manage to meet his eyes. 

He raises a brow ridge at you, but says nothing. Maybe he would have if he had the time, but Megatron had already offered you his hand to step on. You smiled at him in thanks. The red reflected on his cheeks brightened. Your face was warm.

Megatron left the room with steps that echoed through the hall. He held you close to his chest, against his Autobot insignia. If you really wanted to, you could reach up and cup his cheeks in your hands, taking in the way that the cold metal would absorb your body heat.

His optics widened. His stride stalled. It was just the two of you, staring into each other’s eyes, lost in a moment.

You don’t notice when you press your lips to his, perfectly satisfied to ignore the size difference. You let your eyes flutter closed as you melt into his touch.

He’s stiff, unable to move until after you pull away with your hands still on your cheeks. You shrink back.

He shrinks down so that he had to hold you atop of his forearm as the other servo guided you back to his lips. He matched your passion, maybe even doubled it with a touch of desperation as he held you close. His nose pressed into your cheek, his optics dimming before going offline all together.

The second kiss lasted a bit longer, and in those extra seconds you could taste every ounce of all of the sweet words he had ever written for you, only to hide them away in the depths of his collection of personal datapads.

You could feel his hand tremble against your scalp as he let you lean back and away from him. His optics were frantic, but held no regret. They never held any regret when it came to you and him.

He glanced to the side, and took a moment to clear his throat. “Forget-“

“No,” you said with a firmness that Megatron decided was quite becoming of you. “Let’s talk about this over drinks, shall we? My treat.” You smile at him with eyes as soft as pink rose petals scattered across the ground.

You swear you can see as his walls as they came crumbling down reflected in his red optics. Red optics that were so easy on the eyes. Red optics that you had come to adore. 

“Let’s.”

[tranformerssideblog]

Can you do a Megatron x Reader fluff and smut pls

|| This was surprisingly hard to write! I haven’t written anything for this guy since college and I feel like it shows. I know I’ve grown as a writer and, the way I write him now, I feel, is so much better than I used to write him. Thanks for your request! ||

Behind Closed Doors: Megatron x Reader SMUT

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

All is well in the co-captain’s habsuite as you writhe in his palm, data pads and reports cast by the wayside on his spartan desk.

"Megatron, please! I'm so close...!"

Still he maintains that same languid pace between your thighs. Slow licks that dip just barely into your entrance followed by a teasing suck on your clit. Human valves were so much more sensitive than a mech's. The littlest things could have you coming apart on his intake in moments. Megatron liked that about you, the softness and the need. It scared him in the beginning, but now a welcome change after a long day dealing with how wild the Lost Light can be. Finally, someone is happy with him, and that thought alone almost heals him in a way. It fills the cracks a bit and keeps him coming back for more every time, letting himself indulge that absence of thought just a little longer.

His helm sinks farther between your legs and his optics roll closed with a satisfied hum. His whole mouth covers your sex when he's not mass displaced. It makes pleasing you so very easy, especially when you fit so nicely against his servos. He can curl them around your tender body and keep you spread and secure, away from prying eyes. This is just for you and him and no one else, after all. You can't fight the way your hips buck up against his dermas even though he has your legs pinned up and out of the way. He keeps you on that edge and you just feel like it's too much and not enough all at once.

“C'mon, Meg, I'm right there! I need this! I need -- ah fuck! -- I need you, please!”

With a few good rolls of his glossa you're finishing hard against him. As you lay there, limp against his servo, his optics open and the red color paints you in a rosy light. You're beautiful like this.

He presses an appreciative kiss against your sex, and the little taste he has of you almost has him diving in for another round. It's still amazing how you melt after the interfacing, looking so much more relaxed than he's ever seen you, and he finds he's relaxed too. Despite all the goings on and the weight on his shoulders he's content with what he has, with you, with the crew, with his position in the world though he knows it has to come to an end eventually once they find the Knights. Still, right now that is so far from his mind, like it doesn't even exist.

Moments like these are few and far between as the two of you are so busy with your respective roles, and it's nice when you get the chance to just be. After a few more rounds of you then of him, Megatron retires the both of you to the berth where he admires the way you slip off to sleep on his chassis, spent from the night’s events. At least he makes someone happy, if only behind closed doors.

[tranformerssideblog]

More MTMTE Megatron x reader nonsense

In which Megatron is pining for the reader, and the reader is just glad that he isn’t sulking

This was the best day of your career.

You had joined the crew of the Lost Light with a brisk farewell to everything you’d ever known. You had stayed with them through the fighting, the deaths and the occasional visit to a planet. Or charisma parasites. Or the occasional series of time travel shenanigans. Anyways, none of those victories tasted as sweet on your tongue as this one. Nothing could beat the swell in your heart as you sighed in blissful relief.

Megatron wasn’t sulking.

He hadn’t hauled himself up in his habsuite, waiting for you to knock with a report and light conversation. He didn't pinch the bridge of his nose as Rodimus cartwheeled onto the bridge. He didn’t even make one sharp remark towards one of his fellow Autobots, if he could actually even be properly called one at this point. You were starting to truly believe that maybe one day, he could.

He was teaching. 

You didn’t even know that the Lost Light had a lecture hall, but to see it filled with Autobots as you sat on a table in the back of the room was something else. It plastered a smile onto your face as Riptide asked if he had passed. Megatron had said no, but that he would explain why…

This was great.

Between statements, Megatron would glance in your direction and at your gigantuine smile. His back would somehow get straighter, and occasionally, he would give you a small smile back. Something glittered behind his ruby optics. You assumed that it was joy. This was good.

This was progress.

The class had ended as soon as it had begun, or it at least felt like it. You pulled your sleeve back from over your watch. Three hours had passed. Looking at everyone leaving, you could tell. Skids was getting rather twitchy. In the scramble to get out the door, Megatron strode over into long, unsure steps towards you.

“Y/N?”

You hum in response, the grin still splitting your face. “That was a great lecture…You make a good teacher.”

You could have sworn that you heard his cooling fans on their lowest setting, but that had to be your imagination. He paused, as if he was searching for the right words to say. “...Yes. Thank you…I hope that you are not too worn out for a few poems?”

“I never could be.” Not after he finally started step two of an attempted redemption: Actually getting up and doing some good. You had waited far too long for this for you to shut him down now. You could hardly even believe he had started writing again. A few love poems nonetheless. You wondered who they could be for, but you never asked. With the progress he was making, he would come to you eventually.

Megatron smiled, only slightly, as his optics crinkled up at the corners as much as they could with his metal face. For an ex-warlord, he had a nice smile. The way that the light of his optics bled onto his cheeks almost made it look like they were flushed with energon. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had never looked at him like that before.

With eyes full of something that Megatron could only hope was adoration. Your smile shone brighter than the stars outside any window on the ship. He watched you from across the room, optics flicking between you and the group of autobots making their way through the door.

It was wonderful.

Just like that, he had another list of topics for his newer works of poetry. No wonder he wrote so much about you. Had showing them to you softened your heart to make you see him in a new light?

Then you mentioned his teaching.

Oh. Of course you were doing this. You had always watched any sort of kindness or intellectuality with the same kind of tender expression. Still, Megatron couldn’t help but relish in the unfiltered joy that flooded his spark when it was in his direction; made his spark flare and push against his spark chamber as if to reach out for you. 

He paused.

How could he ever have thought that he deserved this kind of happiness? Your smile was his light in an ocean of darkness. Hope in a sea of hopelessness. It’s a shame that he met you when he did. 

You would have loved him in his youth: A miner and a poet with a dream.

Megatron decided that he was more like that version of him now than the one he had left behind with his Decepticon badge. He snuffed out the voice in the back of his processor that said otherwise in hopes that it wouldn’t rear its ugly head ever again. If you would allow him to have you, he would. He just had to earn the right for the chance. 

And he had just gotten started.

[tranformerssideblog]

Hi, may I ask for a MTMTE Megatron x Reader? Like First kiss or trying to figure out this new interspecies relationship?

Absolutely!

He shouldn't be doing this. He knows he's not supposed to be doing any of this. Everything that he fought for in the so call name of "freedom" which proved to be desolate; eradicating homes for control, blood and foreign that stain his servos. No matter how hard he tries to clean them, they still linger as a reminder for what he has done.

How could he? How dare he? For all the anguish, unfathomable pain that he wrought done on others, bringing them down with him to make them feel what he felt. He knows now that he will feel that pain no matter what, that he knows forgiveness will not come even if he begs for salvation.

Yet, aboard the Lost Light he stood with the liaison in his servos. They trembled each time they held them, shook every time their gentle hands place themselves carefully on his. As if he was some sort of meek being that needed comfort when he has done everything under the sun but oh, how sick his processor is to find comfort within their hands.

He tried, he tried so hard to tear himself away from them. Words almost daring to yell out he did not deserve this, he knows what he done, why can't they? But he always came back when the voices in his processor became too loud, when the cycles grown too rough for him under the angry and wary gazes of the crew.

He felt like a sparkling stumbling over on his pedes each time he messed up. Stumbling over his words when placed in front of them, locking up when failing to appease them. He was a fool, a moronic one that could give Rodimus a run for his money.

Alas, how could he remain to be this stoic being when they had his spark whirling like crazy? He can't do this.

Rung was always gently pushing and nudging him in the right directions. Carefully guiding the broken and lost ex-warlord with his words; nothing could surprise the therapist until today when he flung himself into his office. Almost looking desperate, on the verge of a breakdown. It took the poor old bot to soothe and quell the worries that overwhelmed him.

That, he was forever thankful for. Thankful for no judgement even if he wanted it otherwise; Rung never once raised his voice in alarm when he spoke of the quiet relationship he harbored with the liaison.

"Maybe try reading one of your poems to them," he stared bewildered at the small golden orange mech across from him.

"My...poems?" He shuffled in his spot, "I hardly doubt they would want to hear them."

Rung smiled gently, "Give it a chance with them, you might be surprised," the words were cryptic, almost as if he knew something he didn't.

He shuffled through many of the datapads, huffing when it doesn't suit his taste or he thinks they wouldn't like it. How funny really. That a human, an organic being that he a few years ago tried to wipe them all out, had brought the ex-warlord to his knees with ways that had his spark crying out.

He braced himself when he shoots them a message and freezed under their kind eyes as they stood at the opening of his door. Oh, those eyes, he could drop everything and write a poem about them.

'Another time,' he thought, 'one step at a time.'

His dermas parted and soon began to read.