#Megatron is both the worst and good at kissing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

birthdaycakeplate · 2 years ago

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The very overdone ‘sparring turns into excessive kissing’ trope, plus Megop✨

Some sort of ceasefire AU with combined factions. As always...

I refuse to proof read this anytime soon, I don’t want to see what humiliation I’ve conjured for myself.

Warnings are in the tags💕

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“If you’re going to live amongst arrogant bots thousands of tonnes bigger than you are, you’ll have to learn how to defend yourself.” Megatron said seriously, but the irony, of course, left a tickle in his throat.

Obviously Optimus could hold his own against mechs 3 times his size and then some, or Megatron wouldn’t have been forced into this ceasefire in the first place by the little Prime’s bare fists and a shoddy axe.

Which speaking of, he really needed to repay the smaller mech for shattering it during their artillery training. It really had been an accident. Though he suspected Optimus was going to hit during this sparring match with a lot less forgiveness than he’d assured him with at the time.

“Oh, so you admit that your soldiers are rude, thuggish brutes half the time there’s an Autobot in the control room?” Optimus asked, readying his stance on the square of padded floor. He would never stop being amazed that the Decepticons had entertained such a luxury -that is, until he’d learnt that Starscream had been the one to complain about being thrown to her delicate wings on the cold, hard floor one too many times.

That Megatron had been the only one the self-obsessed seeker leveled to spar with meant that Megatron had agreed solely on the promise that he’d be able to continue doing so.

Megatron sized up the brazen thing before him and smiled. In regards to his question, Decepticons were like that more than just half the time.

“Yes, I confess. Though I also admit I’m often guilty of the same arrogance myself.” Because if he weren’t, he wouldn’t have thought so little of one lowly Prime once upon a time, and would have otherwise dominated an entire foreign planet in deca-cycles. Perhaps that was the arrogance talking again.

But Optimus had indeed bested him, and thank goodness it’d happened sooner than later before Megatron had let himself go completely.

He’d found his footing since then and was moving with a ferocity he hadn’t in ages. He hadn’t even known he was slipping until he was shaping his wayward Decepticons, thousands of years out of practice, up in one single, terrifying rant about the disobedience he’d noticed in his absence. He hadn’t even needed to threaten them. It felt so good to be back.

And he believed he had this brave mech here to thank for that. Which unfortunately meant that Optimus really did have a merciless force of nature to worry about now in a way he hadn’t before.

Well... only a little bit ‘merciless’.

Optimus returned his smile then, though it was far more genuine. Megatron tried not to let it sway him off his pedes and focused on the lesson.

“Now,” He began, distributing his weight through spread pedes and opening his palms, making for a more intimidating foe. It would have worked on anybody else.

“Ready yourself, little Prime.”

“I’m ready.” Optimus murmured, big optics trained on the other, and innocent little smile starting to look a tinge wicked.

Megatron liked the fire in this one, possibly too much, as he often tried to rile it out of him.

To test his claim, Megatron offered no further warning and lunged.

Optimus was easily taken to the floor with a surprised little ‘oof’.

“Decepticons don’t play fair.” Megatron purred. His gentle reminder overshadowed by the crush of his chest into Optimus’. He could hear him struggle to vent and had to repress a snicker.

A knee thrusting up just above his pelvic plating, forcing the air from his vents, turned that snicker into a wheeze.

“I can see that.” Optimus hissed, already adapting to the change of pace.

Dumbstruck, Optimus was able to roll Megatron off of him and pin him to the mat by his shoulders.

Megatron considered reaching up and digging his claws into his forearms and tearing, just to reiterate what he’d said about playing fair -and he would have, if it wasn’t Optimus.

A simple buck of the hips was enough to throw the other off his balance and push him away.

Feeling generous, Megatron even allowed him to scramble to his pedes.

“You’ll have to be on your guard at all times.” Megatron said, infrared pupils dissolving into slits. Assessing.

That time the lesson stuck, and Optimus was quick to dodge another lunge.

But predictably was unlikely a thing in the wild. Decepticons were conniving and unfair. They’d had to be to resist Autobot forces, who were supplied by better resources and more fuel.

What a difference nearly a year had made between their factions and their coming together. How long before natural instincts such as those became obsolete and written from their code?

Megatron made to lunge again and deftly fell to the floor on palms and knee to sweep a pede out and right from underneath a parrying Optimus. He fell hard and had to bite back a curse when the other was moving to cage him there, giant black servos encasing his again. Crushing him into the mat.

Knocked to his back twice in half as much time...

Megatron didn’t let up this time and tensed his abdominal plates for any impending kicks. What would Optimus do when he ran into the less honorable sorts? He’d have to find a way out of this without Megatron’s goodwill.

Optimus pulled and writhed and made to kick something that’d have some affect, but all he could do was scramble against slick, gunmetal grey armor and the servos clutching him.

“Are you going to keep me down here?” He growled.

“Or are you going to teach me how to fight?”

Megatron snorted. Warm breath ghosting over a finial and making it twitch.

“Are you trying to talk your way out of this?”

When plenty of the ‘Con population could hardly be bothered to articulate beyond grunts?

Optimus had stopped trying to wriggle his way out then, so clearly he thought a bit of psychology was the logical way to go here. Most mechs weren’t Megatron, unfortunately, and couldn’t withstand a legitimate conversation, though.

“It worked on you.” Optimus pointed out. Which wasn’t saying too much these days.

Megatron remembered how’d he’d gotten here with nothing but Optimus trying to talk his way around everything like a hopeful, insistent fool -around violence and conflicting agendas of mass destruction. And the fact that that had eventually done him in somehow was.... well....

Regardless, it had worked. Partly. Though another part of Optimus’ success at establishing this ceasefire was due to his impressive display of tactical resourcefulness during their Earthly encounters- and, admittedly, a bit of his brute strength. He was worthy, Megatron had come to find, and only then had he learnt to listen.

Decepticons weren’t going to spare him much time to prove himself. They couldn’t afford to in the wars prior.

But... Megatron was just fine to let him try.

Talking to Optimus was it’s own reward, and it was easy to forget he was supposed to be teaching him an important lesson when he’d managed to get him like this.

“Go on and try to get yourself out of this, then, if you’re so sure.” Megatron’s grip tightened painfully on his wrists to remind him this was supposed to be an example of some nameless thug getting the upper hand on him.

Optimus swallowed, and Megatron watched with terrifying interest the way his throat tubing moved.

Miraculously, he pushed the tremor from his voice when he next spoke.

“You’re supposed to be teaching me to fight, aren’t you? You can’t do that from here.”

On the contrary...

But Megatron wanted to see where this was going.

“Yes, I am, but these imaginary foes who have only the wish to harm you will have no other reason to release you. Your enemy, Decepticon or not, is going to need a reason to let you out of this. If you’re so intent to talk your way out still.”

Megatron secured Optimus’ wrists into one massive servo and bared down.

Optimus went deathly still, carefully distant stare betraying any fear that might be thumping around his spark chamber, threatening to burst through.

Megatron couldn’t help but grin at his cornered prey. Optimus’ poker face was was truly a commendable thing, but there was little that could sway Megatron from his goals once he was determined.

“So...” He whispered, dipping his helm into the small space of Optimus’ throat cabling and his servo raised above and pinned. Mouth angled towards his audial.

“You’ll have to give me an incentive to let you up~”

He was impressed by how limp the other had gone, rather than tensing and squirming in every direction to break free. When he slowly pulled away to get a look at that pretty blue face, Megatron had expected to see the same disinterested gaze the other always wore when he was trying -and failing- to intimidate him.

But there was Optimus, practically thrumming below him as the gears turned and his processor span. Thinking much too hard about.... something....

Optimus stared up at him for so long with those wide blue optics that Megatron worried he’d broken him. Either by being too suggestive or too outright forward. He could never tell how civil frames perceived the things war types casually said -and Strika was always threatening him to act with some amount of manners towards the little mech, so he must be coming off too strong in most cases.

He decided he’d gone and crossed a line this time, too, when-

“Let me up... and I’ll thank you.” Optimus whispered, barely able to withhold an embarrassing stutter.

Megatron was compelled to challenge him how that would incentivize a foe to do anything, if only to further the lesson and keep them on track. But he’d had the mech off his pedes for long enough to make his point.

....And he really wanted whatever this ‘thank you’ was.

It’d be his own fault if the ‘thank you’ was a swift punch to the nasal ridge, and he hoped honestly it was just that. Optimus would certainly prove he had the necessary skills to handle his opponents that way.

Megatron was on his stabilizers in two short moves and helping Optimus up with the assistance of those manners Strika had insisted he locate from deep within his hard drive.

Oddly enough, manners had never been a chore when extended to any other bot. Optimus made him forget how to act half the time.

But on his feet again, Optimus looked considerably less annoyed to be thrown about as freely as he had been than he should.

Megatron wondered if that was because he had been the bot doing all the throwing. Optimus had shown himself rather tolerant of his touch on prior occasions since peacetime. And he’d been no stranger to it before peacetime either, unfortunately.

When he didn’t back away to put some more appropriate distance between them, it became clear he was anything but ‘annoyed’ with the treatment.

“Better?” Megatron couldn’t help but tease, something warm licking below his tanks. Optimus, breathless and flushed, was a sight. Better than with his battle mask sheathing his face, and an axe poised and ready to split Megatron’s helm with.

Which he really did owe him a new one. One made from durabyllium-steel so that he might shave the arm off any attacker who might come his way and avoid all this talking nonsense in the first place.

“Yeah.” Optimus said then. His voice pinched, clearly struggling to voice his real concerns.

“Allow me to thank you.” He added, after a tense moment.

Megatron’s glossa worked faster than his brain module could.

“That’s not necessary.”

Maybe those manners weren’t so far out of reach, actually...

Optimus’ finials did that infuriating thing when he was nervous where the dipped down upon his helm, making Megatron physically have to restrain himself from reaching to touch them, and shifted his stance on restless pedes. Trying to quiet the urge.

“Well, it was part of the deal.” Optimus murmured, voice gone soft, optics growing heavy. Megatron unconsciously leaned into him.

“I am a mech of my word, after all.”

Which was how Megatron had known he could come to trust him as he had. But still-

‘I am a mech of standards.’ Megatron had wanted to say -to insist it wasn’t necessary. Instead, a less coherent gasp of some indecipherable thing escaped the tip of his glossa, as a firm blue palm planted itself high up on his chest plates.

There was a brief pause, and then someone’s engine rumbled at the contact. Warmth began to flood their cheek plates, a vibrant color bleeding through. Suddenly keeping optic contact was too great a feat for either of them.

“Here.” Optimus maneuvered them closer, and Megatron was moved without the barest hint of resistance. Vaguely aware he was being moved from helm to toe-pede by two little palms cupping his cheeks.

So be it.

He leaned over the shorter bot just enough to reach him better. Face level and drawn in a line to Optimus’ full lip plates like he was being pulled forward by a string.

Which was good, as that was exactly where the smaller mech had blessedly wanted him.

Their lips nudged and parted until they were properly slotted together.

Megatron swallowed the sound the other made into his open mouth. Little servos fell away from striped cheek plates to run themselves down and over layers of thick chassis, beginning a curious search to map the other out.

Megatron was happy to let him. The distraction gave him an opportunity to deepen the kiss with a tilt of his helm.

Optimus jumped, seeming to just realize he was stood there, locking lips with a once fearsome warlord and finding it unbearably dizzying. In an absolutely delicious way.

Megatron lavished the inside of his mouth with tame little licks, purely to incite some warmth and comfort in the other.

Encouraging intimacy, encouraging Optimus to trust Megatron with the more private, delicate parts of himself. Encouraging those hands to linger longer.

Optimus hummed something like the start of his name into his mouth and something blistering hot shot through Megatron’s spinal strut and down to his pedes.

Proving he could manage some ounce of control of himself, the bigger mech somehow refrained from wrapping a servo around Optimus’ middle and lifting him up into a kiss more fierce and inescapable.

He curled thick digits easily around the other’s arms instead. Pulling him close, forcing their chests to bump, knocking a noise loose from Optimus’ throat.

The little truck settled an open palm over a hip seam and stroked, and Megatron did well enough not to smotherhim back into the floor right there and-

“Ze mat is for sparring.”

Optimus pulled away with a squeal not unlike that of a trapped glitch-mouse in a Cyber cat’s claws. Megatron grinned like an incorrigible cur, elated to have left the other in such a bothered state.

He looked down at the plush of those dermamesh cheeks, turning the same color as his daydreams. Soft, gentle hues of pink and red. Megatron could kiss at them until the end of time, let the world and empire he’d built for himself crumble around them.

But there he’d gone and been appallingly romantic again.

“I’m sorry, Commander Strika.” Optimus said looking somewhere between brave for the sake of due respect and melting through Megatron’s servos and into the floor.

Megatron looked considerably less apologetic. He looked downright proud of himself, even.

“Well, we were sparring, if you ask me.” He chuckled, delighting in his mate’s affronted gasp.

Strika was quick to defend Optimus’ honor, intent on Megatron keeping this intelligent, responsible mech in his life for as long as she was able to see to such. If that meant acting her age while her Lord was acting half it, very well.

She was only a party mech on her off shifts, anyway.

“You outdated, carnal-wired circuit board. Take zis somevhere you aren’t parading your prize for every optic to see.”

Optimus blushed deeper at being called a ‘prize’. And by his temporary commander, no less.

“You don’t want just anybot ogling your precious little Prime vhen he’s like zis, do you?”

That did it.

Megatron bristled. Optimus could feel his plates tighten and lock, finding the decency to compose himself finally. His hands on Optimus’ low back -when had they gotten there?- flattened, as if to shield as much of him as he could from the world outside their little sparring mat.

“You are the only one taking audience.” He snarled at the tank.

Optimus always admired how Strika never buckled like most mechs did under his ferocious gaze. Like how he did when it was Ultra Magnus talking to him.

“I’m making sure jou don’t do anyving inadvisable and unbefitting out here in public.” Vacant room, or not.

“Don’t be stupid.” Her leader chided, and Strika looked closer to punching him now, than ensuring he had a future with this darling, little idiot firetruck.

But Megatron stood firm.

“It wasn’t going in.... that... direction, obviously.” He carefully explained. Honestly unsure how the civil frame would feel about such a thing. He certainly didn’t want to imply he would have done so without his agreeing to such.

But Optimus blinked in surprise at this.

“It wasn’t?” He asked before his better sense could tell him to bite his glossa and think first.

The two war mechs startled and looked him over, then shared a look amongst themselves. In the next blink, Megatron was back to looking his wolffish and clever self again. Eyeing Optimus up and down shamelessly, despite their livid chaperone.

“I was trying to be a gentle mech-“

“Not hardly, my ‘Lord’.”

“And keep my intentions to myself, until they’d been discussed properly. Gracious, little Prime. Were you hoping for something more?”

“Megatron!” Strika had forgone formalities. They’d agreed using his title while she was beating him into stasis did feel condescending, honestly.

Optimus was torn how to answer, because yes. He definitely had been thinking it was.. headed... that.... ‘direction’.....

Oh, Spark.

Optimus stared down at his pedes like they’d done him a great disservice not choosing to run at full speed in the opposite direction. Full lips pulled into a scowl that looked rather venomous.

Megatron basked in the sight of those glowing red cheeks on his favorite mech in the infinite universe, standing there flustered and fuming at having been so free with his affections.

Well, Megatron would gladly be the first to assure him they hadn’t been misplaced, nor were they unappreciated.

“The room is yours.” He told Strika, not sparing a glance away from the pretty Prime who’d occupied much of his processing power -including the parts once dedicated to the important matters of being a faction wide leader.

He’d given up getting through a field report without staring at sleek, silver pedes walking about in the corner of his optic. Imagining them strutting over his way and offering him to come take a break from ‘working so hard’ with their company. Crossed at the knee, sat atop the edge of his desk.

“I don’t vant it.” Strika sighed, exhausted, though waiting until Megatron had carried off his ‘prize’ and found someplace secure before abandoning the misused room.

Comforted only by the memory of what she’d had Lugnut do to her on the very mat they’d gotten themselves familiar on.

Megatron, as she’d imagined, couldn’t resist a spark deep calling within himself to sling an indignant Optimus over his shoulder and march off towards his quarters like a gladiator peacocking his beaten opponent in the pits.

Optimus put up a well enough attempt at looking scandalized by it. All up until Megatron dropped him down into his awaiting arms and carried him off with a tentative palm rubbing under both his knees and back. He forgot he was supposed to be offended after that.

—————

Just wanted to write Megop kissing, y’all, I’m dying.

#Heavy- heavy -very heavy kissing #Boys getting touchy feely with their words and hands #Optimus is a cute little sass machine #Megatron is both the worst and good at kissing #Slight mention of cultural differences #Strong language #Detailed kissing scene #Sfw though this is tumblr unfortunately #And sparring #apparently #That gets neglected pretty fast #Megop #Tfa Megop #Tfa Megatron #Tfa Optimus #Optimus Prime #Tfa Strika #Transformers Animated

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disformer · 3 years ago

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So I draw a lot of goofy shattered glass stuff but I actually really like both the slapstick haw-haw and weeeeeird lovecraftian angles! This is a slice of a SG fic I’m working on that… is taking a lot longer to get through on my schedule rn so I thought I’d post what I’ve got here since we’re talking abt it ❤️

Cw: body horror, psych horror, disturbing imagery and general grissly descriptions.

“Optimus?”

It’s Megatron's voice like he hasn’t heard in years. Soft, gentle, if Optimus pressed it against his throat it would kiss rather than pierce. He thinks of blue optics and tentative hands and wondering smiles and he hates.

Optimus runs hands over the smooth tarp in his lap and doesn’t look up.

“My friend, I’m so… This isn’t what I wanted to happen. Not like this. You don’t deserve-” Megatron’s vocalizer fritzes, choked with pain, “Not like this.”

It’s a lie, in every way. Megatron loves his deceptions. He oozes them with his every breath, his every intake a blasphemy. If Optimus could get his hands on him he’d pin him to the ground, snake his fingers through the wiring in Megatron’s throat and pluck, pluck, pluck, until at last he screamed, fear and pain and wailing as he looked upon his greatest failure. Optimus thinks it would be good for him. It’s always a relief to be honest.

“We weren’t able to get them to drop the processor combing but- Soundwave told them it wouldn’t be safe with the Matrix so your consent protocols are going to be active. It’s not- It’s not the best, I know but-”

But it’s better than what you deserve, Optimus finishes for him, cooing the thought.

There’s no need to speak here; Megatron is an unwelcome guest in his processor. His old partner spits static denial but they’re in LAN connection, and Optimus feeds on the guilt. Gluts on it. Visualises it like a river, pouring over his intake and down his throat and into his belly. Pouring, pouring, black and thick, until it submerges him, chokes him, seeps out of the seams of his optics and his belly until he’s spluttered and offlined, sated. Full to bursting.

Somewhere ahead of him, Megatron begins to weep. Optimus doesn’t look up from his tarp but he can hear it. Megatron is weak if he thinks this is as bad as it’s going to get. If he thinks Optimus is the worst thing lurking in this shithole of a frame.

He shouldn’t have come.

“It’s not going to be anyone you don’t know. I promise.” Megatron moans, voice thick with tears. “Just me and Soundwave. We’re not going to- we’re going to do everything we can to not hurt you.”

Optimus lifts his gaze at that. The mnemo-simulation has put them in his old warehouse, generated by whatever background program they’ve got running to make him as comfortable as possible.

It’s not doing a very good job.

The walls have a shaky look to them that gets worse in his peripherals, the windows seem to open and close by themselves whenever Optimus looks away. The world falls apart on close inspection and he tries not to look at what the chipping of reality reveals.

Every now and then there’s a sound like someone dragging a talon down concrete. Optimus feels it down his back, a tickle. It’s playful. Inviting. He shudders.

“Optimus?” Megatron is talking again. He’s going to want to stop doing that. “Is there anything I can do for you to make you more comfortable? Speak to me, please.”

He meets Megatron's eyes. They’re just as blue and sweet as he thought they would be, a version of them he’d known before war. Optimus wonders what they’d feel like if he pressed his thumbs against them until they shattered.

��Kill me.” He says, and Megatron disintegrates with one last horrified glance as the simulation explodes around them.

---

Before anyone there’d been Ariel and Dion. They weren’t gestalt or spark-brothers, but one day they’d rolled off their manufacturing line together in a pile of shivering, ill-fitting parts and from then on they were family.

Everyone born in that building was screwed from day one; it was a hole-in-the-wall deathtrap of a MTO plant pumping out mechs for the Parade of Metals staff shortage, only to be shut down by enforcers a few vorns after the three of them had been born.

They were all made from the same brittle, recycled scrap and salvage. In the storm season the three of them shook like loose screws under their tarp, frames tucked around each other for warmth their rotting insulation could’t provide.

Ariel had it the worst. Her spark chamber didn’t fit right, a few inches too big for her. It left her constantly rattled and clingy, muttering and pressed into her brother's chests. Some days would be worse than others and she would curl in on herself, sobbing, shoving on her chassis with weak, fumbling hands. Orion would curl around her back and hold her steady for hours while she shook her head from side to side no, no, it hurts.

Dion couldn’t get used to his plating. Something wrong with it, he’d say with a shrug, casual. Just itches a bit. He wouldn’t understand Orion and Ariel leaping to drag his fingers away from his face, away from the bits he’d been peeling off. Just gotta get it off, he’d say, don’t fret, it’ll only take a minute.

They couldn’t stop him forever. One awful night Orion remembers they’d sat down with a stolen vibro-knife over a bunsen burner and the two of them had taken it in turns to slice pieces away while Dion sighed in relief, thanking them every time a section was cut free. It was almost worth it for how well he’d recharged from then on.

Orion didn’t have it half as bad as either of them, which meant he was the one who worked. A thousand dead-end jobs, back-to-back, every cycle. Illegally long shifts at every two-bit docking station from one side of Iacon to the other. Measly paychecks, but that was the story everywhere. If you were on the bottom, at least you were stuck there with company.

The word ‘criminal’ can mean a lot of things, depending on your perspective. Mouths to feed, tanks to fill; civility is a luxury, and it’s an expensive one.

So was it any wonder, Soundwave, what I did next? I suppose you still have your objections. Yes. I see you there, you perverse little voyeur.

Of course you wouldn’t understand. You’ve never been filth before. True, expendable, invisible filth. Alpha Trion was a madman but you’ve never spent a hundred years starving, knowing you would starve for a hundred more, if you even made it that long. You think you know rock bottom but you don’t because if you did, you’d know how it pushes. Peels. It rips you up, ruins you. You don’t feel ruined to me, Soundwave. I can change that if you’d-

---

Glk-glk-glk. Glk-glk-glk.

Optimus wakes.

They’ve opted out of force-feeding energon down his intake by means of bypassing a tube into his anterior tanks. It doesn’t have to go through the pressure regulator in his gastro-chamber; no need to bother with his gag, so Optimus has the uniquely delightful experience of hearing the energon levels in the supply tank deplete in time with the rhythm of his fuel pump.

Glk-glk-glk. Glk-glk-glk.

He shutters his optics, but there’s no budging the haze. His visual processor components feel like soupy plastic in his head and his tongue is an inflexible presence in his intake.

Soundwave-

Naw, man, naw. It ain't safe, Megs, that wastoids got some gnarly shit in that skull of his and I’m not-

“Ah! Hello there, chap,” A voice chirps to his left, crisp and bright and plainly nervous, “terribly sorry to wake you, I was just checking your fuel levels there and- Oh my! Goodness but you do burn through it, aye?”

Shockwave. He’d recognize that grating little accent anywhere.

His optics don’t clear, but they do find purchase on the shiny yellow smear somewhere overhead.

Shockwave is wringing his claws together guiltily, “I would like to say while I have you here I find this all shockingly appalling; personally, between you and myself, I’m not exactly chuffed about all this unethical shadowplay business. Anyway, my own moral compass aside- well. It’s nasty stuff.”

He lifts a claw to one side of his head and taps insinuatingly.

“Can’t stay and chat, not really allowed to even be here if I’m quite honest!” Another nervous laugh, “but I couldn’t just say nothing, could I?”

Optimus stares. He wouldn’t know what to say even if he could form words around the mess of parts he calls a mouth. It’s galling, and he’s infuriated at the small comfort it actually provides.

We don’t have another choice, Soundwave. Handing him over to the council for interrogation-

Man, slag this. I’ve got cassettes dude, they’ve gotta recharge with me. I can’t be putting my little guys to berth at night with this shit in my processor.

How- It’s that bad?

Brother when I say I’m running three system rinses after I even touch a port connected that grody slagger, I’m not pullin’ your leg. Had to motor from that last session because the freak spotted me. That’s not supposed to happen!

He closes his eyes and tunes Shockwave out, there’s too much going on. Optimus hurts all over. They’ve got nine inhibitor clips stapled down the main conduit line of his back and it turns his teeth to glue. There’s cotton balls in his joints.

Megatron and Soundwave are somewhere in the room ahead, Optimus can see their little energy fields flicker even with the wall separating them, an aurora of green and blue. The two spent a thousand years arguing during the war, but nothing has ever riled them up like this. Optimus knows this is new, unwelcome ground for the two of them. He can tell they’re lost, hurting. The satisfaction is as it has been for as long as he can remember; both personal and alien.

Without permission his fingers begin to move. Even, smooth motions at odds with the shaky ventilations and fatigue he feels everywhere else. The digits draw lazy shapes on the slab and he knows if he pays attention they’ll be shaping out strange, misshapen letters.

He doesn’t look. He doesn’t want to see how much control it has while he’s like this.

Look, Megs… This isn’t a kindness, what we’re doing. I don’t see how handing him over to the council could be much-

It’s abuse, Soundwave, in all but name. It’s a violation so fiercely out of the question that I’d rather put a bullet in him. Could you do that? Even to him? Could you live with yourself if you put him in one of those chairs and let them play with his head?

I… Frag. No, fuck that. You’re right, I just…

I understand, my friend. We’ll switch to a denser block between the two of you, total malware flushes between every session-

Glk-glk-glk. Glk-glk-glk.

Optimus doesn’t hear the rest, the soft black crawls over his optics again and he sinks.

Glk-glk-glk. Glk-glk-glk.

---

#horror #shattered glass #Optimus #megatron #shockwave #soundwave #my writing #megop #divorce :(#hopefully this formats ok #i never post my writing but I have fun with it

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tea-mew96 · 3 years ago

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Transformers Animated!

Ooo, good pick!

The first character I fell in love with: Megatron, he's such a clever main antagonist and is one of my fave Megatrons.

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: Bumblebee, for the simple reason that kid-appealing, comic relief characters like him are very hit or miss. Luckily he has genuinely funny lines, got some really good backstory, and I adore his development in regards to his friendship with Bulkhead and Sari.

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: My examples are more of a case where someone obsesses or loves a character and I just find their reaction out of control or weird rather than hating the character themself. For example: I like Blitzwing, but I think some people are way too weird about their liking of him. Also that Toxitron craze that happened on this site was also something I just didn't understand.

The character I love that everyone else hates: Sentinel Prime, but more so in the sense of him as a story/plot element.

One thing I like about Animated is the sense of nuance you get. While the Decepticons are certainly not a morally good group, the Autobots aren't without their own faults. Sentinel Prime serves to drive the point home that not everything is right among the Autobot ranks. This is important both for that nuance and for Optimus Prime's character arc, and it's for that reason I like Sentinel Prime. He may be a jerk, but for me he's an entertaining one.

The character I used to love but don’t any longer: So far, I haven't experienced this yet with a character in Animated.

The character I would totally smooch: Optimus Prime and Bulkhead deserve a kiss on the cheek.

The character I’d want to be like: Optimus Prime, of course!

The character I’d slap: I may like Sentinel Prime as a story element, but he still needs to be slapped.

A pairing that I love: Two for me, Optimus Prime x Prowl (that's all @littlemisstfp's fault) and Ratchet x Arcee.

A pairing that I despise: I'll likely get some heat for this one-Blitzbee and Megop.

Blitzbee I don't get at best and find it very uncomfortable at worst. The discourse surrounding this pairing (among other pairings with Bumblebee) sure doesn't help.

TFA Megop is one of the two Megop pairings I'm sour towards and it's mainly because of bad fanfics and takes ruining it for me. It could just be me being unlucky in my finds, but for every one 1 good take I see for this pairing there's another 5 that I am not ok with. This has made me lose any interest in exploring this ship, and anyone who says they're a TFA Megop fan is someone I am immediately suspect of due to my bad experiences. There's very few people I would trust with handling this pairing. It's also for these reasons that despite liking Megop* you don't see much TFA Megop on this blog, if at all.

*terms and conditions apply

Ask prompt here!

#asks #ask game #flame-boyant #transformers #tfa #transformers animated #tea.txt #mewni.txt #long post

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aprimesrpcorner · 2 years ago

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Well it would take time, but that was expected of their...current situation. But the prime being gentle like this with an Decepticon, well it was something else that was for sure. But the giant mech was pleased it seemed to be hugging the other like the famous plushie mentioned. Oh some would find this hysterical for sure, but the prime seemed to be enjoying holding the other, and the warmth, and he nuzzled into the blue mech. Remaining calm was good, obviously the prime wouldn't try to be this clingy if he wasn't drunk, but he was harmless in this state to the other at least. At least he was more of a happy drunk then a mean and crude one to an extent. But he purred at the suggestion and nodded. "Yesss!~ I'd love to watch a movie with you!~" The prime said with a happy rev of his engines. Well, it wouldn't be a surprise if the Autobots at least noticed...

Well, maybe they both should think on that...this was a big change after all now wasn't it? But it was essentially like that. It was a wonder if peace was actually apart of Megatron's plan here at all...but they'd have to see. Regardless, the human children probably did think he was a lot cooler now, especially since he wasn't trying to actively hurt them even in this type of stressful situation. Miko mentioned she wanted to talk to him at one point. But now, wouldn't be so ideal. And letting Breakdown go would be beneficial...maybeee after a minute longer now. Decepticons really didn't have this type of affections did they? Some probably did yes, but Megatron didn't seem to be the type to let the others be 'soft'. That would be how he'd put it wouldn't it? But in a way maybe it would, they'd probably end up cuddling if worst comes to worst, and was that really that bad? And maybe Optimus would even ask for a little kiss, just one of course. But he knew to back down if Breakdown didn't want it, then even his drunked state self, wouldn't force it on him. He knew better. But there was hope for acceptance for this..."Hmm, well I always wanted to watch one of those more R rated films! Never was able to because of the kids and all, But I'd be interested in why they're rated...R! But a dateee, that would be so fun!~" The Cybertronian said with a giggle of his own, eventually finally letting go of the other as he did.

Breakdown: 🍷💖

The larger mech purred softly as he raised his arms up to the bulky blue mech, his servos as well, being in a sort of ‘Gimme!’ Type motion.

“Eee Breaky my love! Come here and gimme a kissss!~” The larger mech said with a smile, still making the motions with his servos for the other to come over to him, that is if he wanted!~

“What you wanna do my dear? We can cuddle, we can play video games and *hic!* play with the others and the like? Common we should do something fun together!~”

Optimus was indeed really drunk, to much Hi-grade it was presumed, that someone spiked his Energon.

It had been a bit since the situation with these two had happened, and things seemed to be going soothingly enough.

But to think Breakdown would get to see the prime in such a vulnerable yet funny position was something else.

#❤️optimus speaks ❤️#transformers rp #{the brawn of the cons breakdown}#grand galvatron

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starvonnie · 4 years ago

Text

Do You Remember?

Day 1 of Megarod week! Prompt: Faction Rating: Explicit Fandoms: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types Relationship: Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime Characters: Megatron (Transformers),Hot Rod (Transformers),Rodimus | Rodimus Prime,Impactor (Transformers) Additional Tags: Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Drinking, Shower Sex, Size Difference, Stomach Bulge, One Night Stands, kind of Also on AO3

“You’ve got an admirer,” Impactor said with a smile, gesturing with his helm over Megatron’s shoulder.

He turned, curiously, to meet bright blue optics for just a moment before the fiery little mech whipped his helm around. He tried to look fascinated with a stain on the wall. He wasn’t a very good actor. Good thing he was cute.

Impactor chuckled. “Go buy him a drink. He’s totally your type.”

“I don’t have a type.”

“Then all the more reason to go buy him a drink.”

“You’re not gonna drop this are you?”

“Nope.”

Megatron sighed.

“C’mon, mech, when was the last time you got some action?”

Megatron rolled his optics. “I don’t care about that.”

“So you’re telling me if that hot piece of aft came over here and said ‘take me home and frag me’ you’d say ‘no?’”

Megatron sighed again. “He’s not going to do that, though.”

“Well, no, probably not. You’ve gotta pretend to be interested in their personality for a while and subtly ask them to frag you. Either way, if you don’t go buy him a drink I will.”

Megatron looked back his way again, and again the mech quickly turned his helm the other way. If only so Impactor wouldn’t get to him… “Alright. Wish me luck.”

His spark was in his throat as he made his way across the bar. His usually steady hands shook. He felt like at any second, he might keel over from nervousness alone. He was worried that his voicebox wouldn’t work when he tried it, but when Matrix-blue optics found him once more, holding his gaze this time, he felt his fears melting away.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Megatron asked.

The flame-coloured mech smirked. “Only if you let me buy you one, too.”

Megatron found himself smiling. “I suppose I could allow that.”

He patted the stool next to him, and when Megatron sat, he offered him his hand to shake. “Hot Rod.”

“Megatron.” He shook his hand—and his dwarfed Hot Rod’s. He was so tiny.

“It suits you.”

Megatron glanced down at the flame decal on Hot Rod’s chest. “As does yours.”

Hot Rod waved the bartender over, and they each put their orders in on the others’ tab. The bartender looked a little confused at that, but smiled at them and got to making their drinks.

“You like sweet things then?” Megatron asked, gesturing to the fizzy, hot pink drink presented to Hot Rod in a flourish.

“Listen, I’m not here to taste the engex.” He made a face. “This,” he lifted the drink, “is just an excuse to make bad decisions.”

“Am I the first one of those bad decisions?” Megatron asked with a mischievous glint in his optic. He took a sip while Hot Rod laughed. He had a laugh that made Megatron want to make a fool of himself if it meant he could hear it again.

Hot Rod shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. I suppose whether or not it’s good or bad is up to you. Seems like a pretty good idea so far.” He smiled, cocksure, but beneath that there was an endearing shyness. “So… you come here often?”

Megatron chuckled. “Maybe not ‘often,’ but whenever Impactor and I have some time off together this is usually where we go.”

“I’m guessing Impactor is the one currently making out with a minibot?” He gestured amusedly back to their booth, and sure enough, Impactor had a lapful of a little purple bot. They seemed oblivious to the rest of the world.

Megatron sighed. “Yeah, that would be him. I think he told me to come over here just to get rid of me. He said there was a little speedster over here staring at me.”

Hot Rod scoffed. “Hey, I’m not small you’re huge!”

“But you were staring at me.”

Hot Rod’s face turned nearly the same colour as his drink. “Sorry, you just… have a really pretty smile.”

It was Megatron’s turn to blush.

“Sorry, I… don’t really do this much,” Hot Rod admitted. “Well… more like ever. It’s not really my scene.”

“Nor do I. Like I said, Impactor was the one to get me to come over.”

Hot Rod’s spoiler dipped a little.

“Not that I wouldn’t have, I just don’t really flirt much, but you are cute so I, I probably would have come over. If I were. Like that.”

Hot Rod giggled. “Don’t blow a gasket. I get it.” He smirked. “You think I’m cute, though, hm?” He scooted a little closer on his barstool, leaning in, “Because I think you’re—” Hot Rod flailed as he slipped off his stool, spilling his drink and falling forward onto Megatron. His whole face and the tips of his spoiler turned a bright red. “Sorry!’

“Careful.” Megatron helped right him. “I think that’s the fastest anyone’s ever fallen for me.”

“I think I’m going to go crawl into a hole and die now.”

Megatron laughed. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“I’m a bit dramatic.” He managed a shy smile, but it fell when he glanced around him, seeing other bots looking at him.

“Everyone’s too drunk to care,” Megatron said quietly, trying to reassure him. “Half of them probably can’t remember the last five seconds.”

Hot Rod laughed, still ducking his helm in embarrassment. “Maybe we… get a booth? Something not so open?”

“If privacy is what you want… we could take this back to my place.”

“Oh! I, uh, I…”

“Or not. No pressure.”

“No, I, I want to. Yeah, let’s… let’s do it!”

Hot Rod paid his tab and apologized for the spill, and in his excitement Megatron nearly forgot to pay his own tab. Once they were both settled up, they made their way outside. The cool air quickly chilled their frames and Hot Rod started to shiver.

“Cold?”

Hot Rod nodded, denta chattering.

“May I?” Megatron held his arm out, hovering, until Hot Rod snuggled up to him and he wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “It’s not a long walk.”

Hot Rod put his arm around Megatron’s waist. “Good. I think I’m gonna need a real workout to warm up.”

Despite the chill in the air, Megatron’s cooling fans came roaring on. Hot Rod giggled and gave him a half-amused, half-sultry look.

A few blocks of mild embarrassment and comfortable silence later, and they were at his building and riding up the elevator.

“It’s nothing fancy,” Megatron said.

Hot Rod shrugged. “You got a berth?”

Megatron nodded.

“Then I think it’ll do just fine.”

In every movie Megatron had ever seen, when they brought someone home, it was a fast, steamy frag. But once inside, he just held Hot Rod’s hand while the little speedster gave him a soft look.

“We don’t have to interface if you don’t want to,” Megatron said. “I just wanted to be alone with you.”

Hot Rod blushed. “I mean… I want to, if you’re down.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Geez, don’t sound so excited,” Hot Rod teased. He beckoned Megatron down. Megatron obliged him, turning his helm slightly since he assumed he wanted to whisper something to him, but he had assumed wrong. Happily, mind you, since he’d pressed soft lips to his.

Once they’d touched, he understood. He wanted to pull Hot Rod close. He wanted their heated plating flush. He wanted to hear Hot Rod moan his name and beg him for more. And his new friend got right to it. His hand slid right down over Megatron’s modesty panel, revving his engine.

Megatron deepened their kiss, focusing on how Hot Rod’s glossa slid against his own. But all the focus in the world couldn’t have kept his spike from springing out into the waiting hands of Hot Rod.

Hot Rod smiled as he pulled away slightly. “Look at you. Hard for me already?” His hand was almost comically small, stroking his shaft.

“Who wouldn’t be?” Megatron kissed him again. He caressed down Hot Rod’s frame, pausing just above his heated panels. He stifled a chuckle when Hot Rod made a quiet, impatient noise. He teased the edge just a little longer, before sliding two fingers between legs spreading for him. He’d barely felt the steaming metal before his finger was sliding through wet folds.

Hot Rod gasped and then ground against his hand. He mouthed at Megatron in an almost-kiss, but it was clear his processor had dropped to his array.

Megatron just barely pressed in, hearing Hot Rod hold his ventilations, then right back out. He circled his anterior node a few times and whispered right in his audial. “The berth awaits us.”

“Tease,” Hot Rod said. But he smiled and took hold of Megatron’s hand—the one that wasn’t wet with his lubricants—and pulled him along. He backed himself up against the berth, letting himself fall back onto it as Megatron came up over him.

Hot Rod stopped him, and when Megatron looked at his face there was a little fear in his optics. “Um… I’m gonna need you to, uh… work me up to… that.” He nodded towards his twitching spike.

“Of course,” Megatron said, his voice deep and rumbling.

“Not that I can’t take that size, because I can.”

Megatron chuckled. “Even if you could take me right away, it’s much more fun to tease you until you beg me for it.”

“Do your worst, Megatron.” Hot Rod smirked up at him; a challenge. “Well, maybe not your worst. Your restrained worst. Just to start. After that you can get as rough with me as you want.”

In an act that was anything but rough, Megatron kissed up his jawline. “I’m not so sure I want to be rough with you.”

Hot Rod shrugged. “I’m down for literally anything. I’ve agreed to a lot of stuff tonight that I’ve never done before, and so far, it’s been amazing.”

Megatron smiled. “It has.”

He kissed him before he finally pushed a finger into that warm, welcoming valve. He captured Hot Rod’s first moan in their kiss, and then the second as he pushed deeper. The third he let escape, as his fingertip brushed his ceiling nodes. It was surprisingly quiet. Given the flames blazing across his chest, he assumed everything he did was quick, brash, and loud. Just like fire.

In one way, he was fire. Every sound, movement, and every glazed-over glance he gave Megatron had crackling heat racing through his veins. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find soot coating his plating. And he wouldn’t have cared one bit.

Hot Rod moaned and clawed at Megatron’s back. He crooked his finger and pulled more of those sweet sounds from his small frame. He was dripping everywhere and it took a great deal of restraint to not slip his spike in that wet heat and rut into him.

“I can take more,” Hot Rod whispered.

“You’re sure?”

He nodded emphatically. “I’m not as breakable as I look.”

Megatron couldn’t help the rev of his engine as he pushed a second finger in. It was a snug fit, but Hot Rod shuddered with pleasure and rocked his hips forward. Each press in made a wet sound as his fingertips met with ceiling nodes and a gasp from Hot Rod.

All the while, he kissed and nipped at his neck. Each bite would have Hot Rod holding his ventilations, until fanged denta released him, relatively unscathed. Tomorrow it would be easy to guess what Hot Rod had been up to the night before. Same with Megatron, if you looked at his back. His bright hands left golden trails where his fingers dug in.

Megatron scissored his fingers, testing his valve. It opened easily. Hot Rod groaned and his optics rolled back into his helm. His biolights pulsed with his arousal, and their position made it seem like they were pointing down to where Megatron’s hand was splitting him open.

“You’re sure you don’t do this often?” Megatron kept his voice sultry as he asked this. He quirked up a brow and kept kissing at his neck, jaw, and collarbone.

“Well, I… it’s not like I haven’t with y’know… big bots but—ah…” He took a few deep, shuddering ventilations. “On my own, I like to—nhh!... push myself.” He smiled and bit his lip.

“Is that so?” Megatron didn’t wait for an answer before capturing his lips in a kiss and biting his lower lips himself. He got bitten back as he pulled away.

Hot Rod smiled up at him mischievously. He easily stole that expression with the crook of his fingers. He gave him a little pout and then said, “I’m ready. Get on your back.”

“Oh?”

Hot Rod guided him to where he wanted him, straddling him with lubricant-soaked thighs. The red biolights ringing his valve were a pretty invitation for his spike. He was a little jealous, but only a little. If he couldn’t have his own, he’d enjoy Hot Rod’s as that light swallowed him.

“Think you can handle me?” Hot Rod taunted when he caught Megatron staring.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

He smirked. “Oh, I know I can take this. But I dunno about you.” He ran his wet folds along the underside of Megatron’s spike. It twitched involuntarily.

“Then let’s find out, shall we?”

Hot Rod let just the tip slip in. “Oh… we shall.” He sank down on Megatron’s spike with a soft moan. He took a few deep ventilations with a hand on his abdomen. He stroked the bulge Megatron’s spike made. “Primus, you’re huge.”

“Am I hurting you?”

Hot Rod shook his helm, smiling wide. “Quite the opposite.”

He lifted up a bit then sunk back down a few times, watching his armour flex. His field flared with lust as he picked up the pace, smiling clumsily at Megatron all the while.

Megatron gripped his calves and gave little thrusts up to meet him. He let his helm come to rest and shut his optics, sighing with pleasure. He had to focus a bit on not overloading too soon because, well… it had been a while. It didn’t help that every erotic noise Hot Rod made just added to his arousal.

Hot Rod bit his lip and picked up the pace a bit, leaning forward. Every time he took Megatron’s spike to the hilt, he would grind his anterior node against Megatron’s plating. It arced and had Hot Rod chasing that feeling. Faster, harder. His warm, snug valve swallowed his spike again and again until Hot Rod could do nothing but pant and hold on. Megatron kept pace with him, feeling his overload building all too-quickly, when Hot Rod suddenly cried out and threw his helm back. His optics flashed white and his cooling fans roared as he slumped forward.

Ventilating deeply, Hot Rod said, “Frag… I needed that.” With shaking arms, he lifted himself just enough to see Megatron’s face. “Sorry. It’s, uh… been a while.”

Megatron chuckled. “It’s fine. I was getting close, myself.”

“Don’t worry.” Hot Rod smiled sloppily. “I’ll getcha there, too. Just need a minute to rest.”

“Take your time. I have nowhere to be.” He stroked up Hot Rod’s waist, delighting in the shiver of his frame. He even got a few gasps as he kept his lust alive, but it turned into a flinch when his fingertips brushed his spoiler.

“Not there right now,” Hot Rod said. “Normally I like having my spoiler touched. It feels real good. But right after an overload its really sensitive.”

Megatron let his hands slide back down to his waist and then he hugged him. “Remind me of that in a few minutes.”

“Heh. Will do.” Hot Rod nuzzled against his chest.

Megatron twitched his spike, getting a deserved glare from Hot Rod.

He smiled. “Sorry, honest mistake.”

“Uh huh.” Hot Rod rolled his optics. “You’re just mad that you’re still horny.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hot Rod blew a raspberry. “If you wanna go again so badly you gotta take over.”

Megatron shrugged. “Alright. Hold on, then.”

With a smile and a bite to his lower lip, Hot Rod wrapped his arms around him. As soon as he was secure, Megatron flipped them. He took a moment to admire the pretty package beneath him. Staring up at him with eager, lustful optics. That sight alone would be enough to make him overload.

“You’re beautiful,” Megatron said a little too honestly.

Somehow, Hot Rod’s face managed to turn a deeper shade of red. He hid behind his hands, but Megatron could still see his beaming smile.

“Shut up.”

Megatron chuckled. “But you are. And right now, you’re being adorable.”

Hot Rod peeked out from his hiding place, and that only served to make him look cuter. In a meek voice, he said, “You’re beautiful, too.”

Megatron rolled his optics and shook his helm with a small smile. “You don’t need to lie to me, Hot Rod. I don’t expect a compliment back.

“But you are,” Hot Rod insisted. “Your smile, your optics… not to mention you’re just… rugged. Like, in a really hot way.” His spoiler flapped against the berth, trying to dispel heat. “I’m not good with words.”

Megatron kissed him to spare him further embarrassment. But also because he just wanted to kiss him. There was something about this little speedster. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew that he wanted to be close to him.

The smell of ozone and wafting steam surrounded them. He tasted the remnants of Hot Rod’s overly sweet drink on his lips, and what would have been too much to drink himself, made him kiss him deeper. Really savouring it. He savoured the feel of Hot Rod’s hands, too. All over him. They dragged electricity along his plating and coaxed him into a gentle rhythm that had Hot Rod sighing happily.

His ventilations a little laboured, Megatron said, “It’s been a while for me, too.”

Hot Rod laughed. “You gonna blow your load already?”

Megatron chuckled. “Not right away, but soon, yes.”

“Take it slow, then.” Hot Rod pulled him down for a kiss. “You feel really good… I wanna savour it.”

“Says the mech who came after two minutes.”

“It was like four.”

Megatron laughed and kissed him one more time. “I’m fine with taking my time. The night’s still young.”

Hot Rod relaxed into his berth with a sigh. He looked up at Megatron with big, round, sparkling optics, his arms splayed out on either side. Open, and vulnerable. There was this air of trust in his field that made him glad he’d been the one to pick him up from that seedy bar. Most of them would have taken him in and then tossed him out, but Megatron, well… he really hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he got to see him.

It had been a long time since he’d interfaced at all, but even longer since he’d done something so… slow. Gentle. Watching Hot Rod’s face, soft and languid with pleasure, he wanted to call it love.

It wasn’t, obviously. Love at first sight, or even first frag, didn’t exist. Lust? Infatuation? Of course. But this felt like more. He saw what could easily become love. Like a new, exciting path had opened up in his life. And he knew it was foolish to even dream of anything beyond this night, but hope so rarely found his spark.

So, he enjoyed the moment. He slowly fragged him, drawing out all these soft sounds. He wanted to kiss him, but then he wouldn’t hear them. Or see his optics flutter closed. Or see him shift just a little bit closer.

And there was his spoiler.

This time, when his hands met the sensitive metal, Hot Rod moaned and squirmed. He gripped the sheets and arched off of the berth, moaning Megatron’s name.

“Good?” Megatron checked in, just in case.

“So good.” Hot Rod met his gaze briefly before another caress of his spoiler had his optics closing with a long, low moan.

Megatron quickened his pace just a little. He leaned down to use his mouth, instead, and when his glossa swirled around the pointed tip of his spoiler, Hot Rod rolled his hips to match Megatron’s rhythm. He left more scratches on Megatron’s back as another overload suddenly hit him, arching further and gasping.

His calipers cycled down on Megatron’s girth. He moaned and thrust erratically. Hot Rod’s calipers rippled around his spike, pulling him deeper and deeper until he bottomed out, transfluid gushing out around his spike. He thrust a few more times until Hot Rod had milked him of all that he had.

Being careful not to crush Hot Rod, Megatron rolled off of him.

Hot Rod was left gaping and dripping. Out of breath, he said, “I think you’re gonna make me walk funny tomorrow.” He gave Megatron a wobbly smile. “Not complaining.”

Megatron chuckled. He rubbed Hot Rod’s belly, still marvelling how he’d managed to take his spike without that much difficulty.

“I didn’t hurt you, right?”

Hot Rod shook his helm. “That was one of the best frags of my life.”

Megatron couldn’t help but smirk. “I try.”

“Can we try again?”

Megatron chuckled again. “How about we get cleaned up, instead? It’s a small shower, so you can use it first.”

“What? After fragging me into the berth you’re too shy to share a shower with me?” Hot Rod shook his helm. “Nah. We’re showering together. Because I wouldn’t mind getting a little dirtier before we get clean.”

“In that case…” Megatron got out of berth and swept a surprised Hot Rod up into his arms. He let out an endearing little squeak, and he hoped he didn’t mind when he nuzzled against him. He assumed not, since he nuzzled him back.

Why did this all feel so right?

The shower really was cramped. Even when Megatron was alone he found himself hitting his elbows against the wall. But with Hot Rod there, wanting to be close to him, it felt like the perfect amount of space.

Unfortunately, with the difference in their height, it made kissing next to impossible, but they found a way. Though after a few, Megatron had to be the responsible one and actually clean the fluids from their frames. It didn’t help that Hot Rod curved his frame in just the right way to get his hands where he wanted them. And that he stuck his aft out so it rubbed up against his array. All that paired with the sultry looks over his shoulder, and it took all of Megatron’s willpower not to succumb to him.

The willpower that was cracking away.

“Insatiable, aren’t you?” Megatron purred in his audial.

“Just another quick frag,” Hot Rod temped him. His aft swayed in a figure eight. “You know you want to.”

When his valve cover snapped open and newer, warmer lubricants dripped down his panels, all his resolve vanished. Megatron easily picked Hot Rod up and impaled him on his length. He thrust into him, pressed Hot Rod into the tiled wall. His moans echoed around them and spurred him on.

He felt the bulge his spike made beneath his fingers, tight around Hot Rod’s waist. Nearly too much spike for his little frame. And yet, Hot Rod kept begging for more, more. Harder. Faster.

Oral lubricants dripped from Hot Rod’s open mouth. He tried to speak, but it was incoherent. Megatron couldn’t find the words either. He just pounded away at that welcoming valve.

The water made everything that much more slippery. The only secure hold he could find was wrapping his arms around Hot Rod’s waist, giving him everything he had. It was the complete opposite of their first time, but just as pleasurable. It wasn’t long before Megatron was spilling more fluids into Hot Rod’s tank, and hearing him moan his name.

A satiated Hot Rod was much easier to clean. He seemed too tired to do much of anything, so Megatron gently lathered and rinsed him, giving him a few pecks here and there.

Hot Rod’s smile was wobbly as he leaned much of his weight onto Megatron. He attempted to return the favour, but after a few clumsy tries Megatron kissed him and whispered, “Just relax. I’ll finish up soon and then we’ll settle down into berth. That is, if you wanted to stay the night?”

Hot Rod nodded. “If that’s alright with you.”

“As long as you’re alright with some cuddling.”

“I’m always down to cuddle.”

Megatron kissed him on his forehelm and got himself mostly clean. It was enough to be able to cuddle without grossing Hot Rod out, anyways. Though it seemed like he wouldn’t care either way. But he wanted to impress him. Or at least not be gross.

What a strange night.

Finishing up, Megatron shut the water off and dried the both of them off. Hot Rod once again made it a challenge by stopping him to kiss and just generally being quite handsy. It was hard to get annoyed, though. Hot Rod’s interruptions were hardly a nuisance. He’d let him distract him all day if that distraction was a hand stroking up his chest or a kiss to his chin when he stooped down.

Eventually, he managed to dry them both off, and then he picked Hot Rod up once more, laying him down in berth. He was barely in before Hot Rod was snuggled up to him. He cutely nuzzled against him, resting his helm on his chest.

They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the silence and closeness. Megatron thought Hot Rod had fallen asleep when he spoke up.

“Do you believe in fate?” Hot Rod asked quietly.

Megatron sighed thoughtfully. “Well… I’m not one to believe that everything happens for a reason. I think, most of the time, what we think of as fate is just one of an infinite number of possibilities. Coincidences are bound to happen.”

“Oh…”

“Oh?”

Hot Rod shrugged. “I dunno if I believe-believe in fate, but something drew me to you. Beyond just your smile.”

Megatron gently stroked his spoiler.

“I think…” Hot Rod traced a crack in Megatron’s chest plating. “Some sparks are just drawn too each other and we don’t know why. I dunno. I’ve heard some bots say that maybe it’s because our atoms or whatever were close to each other when the universe was created.” When shy blue optics rose to meet steady red, he flushed pink. “Uh… not that I’m like saying we’re soulmates or anything like that—I barely know you—but… and maybe it’s just me, but something about you feels… special. Like I’m supposed to be here.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Megatron said, “but I can say that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed your company. And I want to see you again. Perhaps for an actual date?”

“Oh, well, I… I’m not gonna be in Tarn for long,” he admitted meekly.

The room felt noticeably heavier when both of their fields turned somber.

“Sorry, I… I live in Nyon. I just came here for a visit.”

That new path he’d imagined faded into shadows. He saw Hot Rod walk off without him, and it hurt more than it should.

Pushing past these new, dumb emotions that he shouldn’t even be having, he said “In that case… if you’re ever in Tarn, you know where to find me.”

Hot Rod gave him a bittersweet smile. “You can call me if you’re ever around Nyon, too. I wouldn’t exactly call it a great vacation spot, but I could show you around.”

“It’s not like I get much vacation.”

“Oh. Right. Is it? As bad as they say it is down there?”

Megatron’s optics dimmed.

“Sorry. You don’t have to answer that, it was rude of me to ask.”

“Let’s just say that I greatly prefer being above ground, here, with you.”

Hot Rod smiled. “Me, too.”

These two sparks would meet again, millions of years later. One hidden behind red and one behind violet. There was no rosy glow. No easy conversation. Not even a pleasantry passed between them. There was only a fusion cannon, levelled at the red that protected Hot Rod’s spark.

Should he say something? Did he even remember him? Had everything he said been a lie?

Hot Rod wasn’t given much time to think before a photon round ripped through his frame and left him floating, near-death, in the void of space. The Megatron he had met had long since died. That sweet smile was gone.

And Hot Rod was going to die. "You remember that night, don't you?"

Megatron sighed. He figured this would happen, eventually, but it had been so long he’d assumed Rodimus wanted to forget all about it. "That was a long time ago, Rodimus."

"But you remember it. Which means you've thought about it."

“We’re around each other enough. It’s hard not to think about it.”

“Okay, then, what are your thoughts on it?”

“I think it happened millions of years ago.”

“And? A ton of shit happened millions of years ago that I still remember clearly. That night is one of them. I had a good time and I thought you did, too. I would’ve gone for you if we lived in the same city, and now we’re here together, so…” Rodimus fidgeted.

“… So?”

“So… I dunno. It felt like fate that night and now that you’re here it really feels like fate. I just want to know where your head’s at on all of this. I’m kinda confused and feelings are stupid but they’re there.”

Megatron sighed. “How I feel doesn’t matter. I can’t give you what you want.”

“What do you think I want?”

“I can only assume you want what we both wanted back then, if you’re bringing it up.”

Rodimus didn’t say anything for a long time. When he did speak again, it was a question.

"Where do you think we'd be? If I stayed in Tarn?"

"Was that even an option for you?"

Rodimus shrugged. "If there were streets, I could live on them."

Megatron gave him a sympathetic look.

"I can't say your apartment wasn't... tempting. But I figured you wouldn’t want someone you just met trying to crash at your place every night." Rodimus chuckled awkwardly. “Plus, I… I didn’t want you looking down on me or taking pity on me.”

“You thought I’d look down upon you? I was a miner.”

“Yeah, but at least you had a job. At least you were useful.”

“Your existence is not defined by your usefulness.”

“I know. I do. But that’s what I thought at the time.”

An uncomfortable silence befell them. Eventually it proved to be too awkward for Rodimus.

"And, y’know, the fragging was pretty good, too." The smirk he gave Megatron was cocksure, but his reddening face betrayed him.

"You remember how good it was all these millions of years later?" Megatron teased.

"You don’t?"

Megatron looked wistful for a moment. “No. I remember. I don’t think I could ever forget.”

"I felt something special that night," Rodimus confessed. "If I'm honest, I've spent a lot of nights wondering how things might have been if I’d stayed. If I would have been a Decepticon, if the war would have even happened…” After a glance Megatron’s way, finding him staring, he chuckled nervously. “Uh, but, y’know, it’s nothing. We didn’t know each other.”

“I wanted to know you,” Megatron said.

“Well… you can now, if you want.” Rodimus took a half step towards him.

Megatron stifled every urge. To kiss him or hug him or do any number of things that required closeness. He couldn’t just take what he wanted, anymore. “Tell me what you want, Rodimus. If I’m on this ship I need you to be perfectly clear with me.”

Rodimus bit his lip. Then, in a rush, he said, “I want you to kiss me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Just do it.”

Megatron still hesitated, but his blue optics were his weakness. He couldn’t deny him. Not with him looking at him so softly. It was that same not-love look. Of almost-love. Of maybe-love. It was a look so full of potential and all Megatron had to do to unlock that potential was to take that step and kiss him.

Everything would change. That path opened up again, but it was harder to see far down it. It was still there, but obscured. A dangerous path. He couldn’t plan ahead for what lay beyond.

Megatron took that step, but it felt more like a leap.

Rodimus hadn’t expected much from the kiss, but sparks flew. His knees went weak when Megatron’s hand came up to cup his cheek. He could have so easily lost himself in everything this kiss was and let his frame lead the way, but their second meeting came rushing back with all of their baggage.

He pulled away.

Rodimus looked down, but didn’t step out of Megatron’s reach. “Sorry, I… just, after everything, it’s… it’s not as simple, now.”

“I know.” Megatron reluctantly released him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Really.” Rodimus smiled at him and took a hold of both of his hands. “For us, or me, I guess, it’s easy. It’s ‘yes.’ It’s ‘I want to try this.’ But for everyone else, it’s…”

“None of their business.”

“I know, but, it kind of is. ‘Cause you’re… you.”

“Mm…”

“But… if you want to try being together, I think it’s worth the scrutiny.”

“Are you okay with this?” Megatron rested a hand over Rodimus’ racing spark.

Rodimus kept that hand there. “Who hasn’t tried to kill their partner, right?” He bit his lip. “It’s… we were at war.”

“It was still wrong.”

“Yeah…”

Rodimus shook his helm, as if he was shaking those thoughts from his processor. “Okay. Since you’re trying to get a new start here or whatever, let’s just… start fresh. You and me. Like I’d stayed in Tarn and we got to see where this was going. Okay?”

“Alright.”

“I know it can’t be exactly like that, but… I just don’t want us carrying all this scrap around with us. We’re just two mechs in a relationship. ‘Mkay?”

“If that’s what you want, Rodimus.”

“I just wanna be with you. Because it really does just… feel right. I dunno why.”

Megatron lifted one of Rodimus’s hands to his mouth and left a gentle kiss. “Some sparks are just drawn to each other,” he whispered, “and we don’t know why.”

Rodimus smiled. “Poetic bastard.”

After sharing an amused and quiet moment, Megatron asked, “Are you still as insatiable as Hot Rod was?”

Rodimus grinned and pressed himself to Megatron. “Wanna find out?”

#megarod #rodimegs #megatron #rodimus #mtmte #valveplug #hannah dont look at this #starvonnie writes #megarodweek

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yellingaboutmasseffect · 3 years ago

Note

Transformers?

Oh boy this feels like such a can of worms XD We're not even delving into my OCs

otp

Across many continuties, the Old Friends thing that Megatron and Optimus have is just *chef's kiss* but I do love that TFA was like they don't know each other and Megatron doesn't even know Optimus's name for 97% of the seriesXD

favourite canon pairing

IDW Drift and Ratchet are up there for me with both of them finding peace in each other after the war. TFP/IDW Knockout and Breakdown and I'm glad that they got a happy ending in IDW continuity.

worst pairing ever

Transformers Animated Shockwave and Blurr. Shockwave kills Blurr. But Saren kills Nihlus you might say well they had a pre-existing relationship in canon and a death robot had scrambled Saren's brains where as Shockwave just smashes Blurr into a paperweight upon their first interaction.

guilty pleasure pairing

Truly guilty, I did read one really good Optimus/Starscream fic where they were both in character and it was so good and tragic and that high will never be achieved again for that pairing.

a pairing you want to see more

You can't just drop canon Black Arachnia/Airazor and think I won't remember that Airazor has two hands and could hold her other canon romance from a previous iteration, Tigatron's hand too

Arcee smooching ladies is always fantastic too and I'm glad that trend has continued in the comics

that pairing everyone likes but you’re like “lol no”

TFA Bumblebee/Blitzwing. I think one artist started it and I don't hate that they did that but it took off in a way I don't get

favorite non-romantic pair

Still love Windblade and Waspinator as friends. Also IDW having Bumblebee and Windblade have to deal with Starscream's dramatic ass was fantastic.

#I could go on so many continuities #askmeme

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olivia200312 · 4 years ago

Text

High School Love~ TFP! Optimus x Human! Reader

Requested by the lovely @bng4032

Plot: Hi there!! Can you make a TFP highschool AU Optimus prime x female reader?? Also, this AU has a country named Cybertron.

"So the story is about a female student that transfer from her country (any country that you like to insert) to a new school called Lacon Academy, and she was baffled about her whereabouts (she did ask some students around for directions) Then she met up with the principal of the school named Alpha Trion, got her schedule and that's where she met Optimus. She thought that he was handsome and cool until she didn't notice that she blushed. After a slight briefing from the principal Optimus gave her a tour before went to her class (they talk on their way, etc). And the class began, like in any other school, hard subjects as always but the female reader lost in her thoughts, thinking about Optimus until she can't wait to meet him again. You can add anything else that you like I don't mind. Hope to see what this turns into😁😁😁"

This is a high school one-shot! Feel free to pretend that he wears clothes or not like other bots.

Note: the art goes to the owner!

Head area:

Brain: Processor / Brain Module

Head: Helm

Face: Face plate

Ears: Audio receptors / Receptor Orifice / Audials

Nose: Enstril / Olfactory Sensor

Eye brow: Optical Ridge

Eyes: Optics

Mouth: Intake

Lips: Dermas

Teeth: Denta/Dentas

Tongue: Glossa

Chest area:

Chest: Chassis / Thoraxal Cavity

Back: Hexa-Lateral Scapula

Spine: Bipedalism cord / Back Strut

Chest and back armour:

Chest plate

Back plate

Mid-section plating

Neck guard

Side plating

Arm area:

Arms: Arms / Restarlueus

Forearms: Bitarlueus

Hands: Servos

Fingers: Digits

Arm armour:

Gantlets

Shoulder pads

Arm guard

Lower area:

Pelvis: Pelvis

Butt: Aft / Skid-Plate

Thighs: Tibulen

Calves: Cadulen

Feet: Pedes - the high heel bits are called Struts or Heel Struts.

Lower armour:

Skirt plates

Aft plate / Skid plate

Thigh guard

Ankle guard

General/Internal components:

Muscles: Cables / Pistons - It depends on the area in question.

Veins: Fual lines

Stomach: Tanks

Lungs: Vents - used to stop the con/bot from over heating.

Heart: Spark

Tattoos: D-con/A-bot Insignias and the lark

T-Cog: The thing that allows all Cybertronians to transform, be that their arms or their whole body.

Bonus:

Penis: Spike

Vagina: Valve

Body: Frame

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N groaned as the clock beeped. She reached for it and then slammed it shut with her fist. Stupid clocks... She got up and yawned. She stretched her arms above her head and let's just say that it showed her stomach a bit. Meet Y/N L/N. She was a regular human and she was (age) years old. She lived with her parents and had no siblings. She got dressed in nice clothes. She was going to a new school that she was completely unfamiliar with. There's one thing why: bots. Like, actual robots, alive and talking!

Y/N walked down the stairs as she yawned once again. She entered the kitchen and there were her parents. Her dad was sitting, reading newspapers, and drinking coffee. Her mother was cooking.

"Good morning, mom, dad."

Her dad looked up from the newspapers and smiled. "Good morning, dear. How did you sleep?"

"Meh, like usual."

Y/N's father chuckled and he continued to read the news. Y/N sat down and her mother walked over to her with a plate with breakfast.

"Good morning, sweetie." Y/N's mom kissed her daughter's forehead as she gave her breakfast. She then walked up to the stairs to get dressed.

Y/N just ate the food peacefully but then her father spoke. "Are you excited about the new school?"

"Well... I'm actually nervous."

Y/N's father chuckled. "It's normal. You'll do great! Ask students for help when you need it, ok?"

"Alright! It's time to go!" Y/N 's mother called.

Later~

Y/N waved goodbye at her parents as the car drove off. She stood in front of the school, very nervous while clutching her books close to her chest. It was of course normal to feel nervous to be at a new school but however... this wasn't just a school. The school was called Lacon Academy and it was the school where Transformers goes! Real-life Transformers, alive! They can talk and move like humans!

Y/N took a deep breath and entered the school. She had to go and find the principal's office. The only problem was that she didn't know the way at all. Oops... Y/N remembered her father's tip and asked shyly some students for help. Almsot everyone was staring at her surprised since she was a human. Some of them even gave mean looks! Luckily, a lot of students were nice and helped her. Y/N thanked them as they walked off.

Y/N knocked on the door.

"Come in," said a mech (male) voice.

Y/N took a deep breath but then... she got suddenly pushed that she yelped, slammed the door open, and fell on the floor! Her books even were on the floor.

The principal gasped while a student next to him looked shocked. The student next to the principal looked behind Y/N and saw his enemy, Megatron. He looked angry and gave him a warning look to back off. Megatron only smirked and walked away. The principal didn't saw Megatron.

Y/N groaned and whimpered in pain because of her arm! She felt gentle and soft servos helping her up. "Are you ok?"

"Huh?" Y/N looked up to meet gentle yet soft blue optics looking into her E/C eyes. She felt lost in them...

"Ma'am?"

"O-Oh! Sorry!" Y/N yelped as she stood up fully and dushed the dirt off her clothes. She was not wearing her uniform since in Lacon Academy, they don't use them.

The student chuckled at her shy behavior. "It's alright."

The principal was nice enough to help to pick the books up and gave them to Y/N. "Hello. Welcome to Lacon Academy. Your name is Y/N L/N, correct?" He smiled.

Y/N smiled politely back while the student was smiling kindly. "Yes, sir."

"My name is Alpha Trion. I'm the principal here. And this is my best student, Optimus Prime."

Optimus stuck his servo out to her, still with a polite smile. Y/N smiled back shyly and shook his servo. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too."

Then Alpha Trion gave Y/N a schedule. "Here's your schedule. You have almost the same as Optimus over here. He'll give you a tour. If there's anything wrong or a problem, then feel free to come to my office to talk. You can even ask Optimus for help. He's very smart here."

Optimus chuckled sheepishly. Y/N giggled at that, causing the Prime to blush. Alpha Trion chuckled as he saw his student blush. He smirked secretly since he ships them together. "You both may go. There are some minutes left before the first class begins."

Optimus and Y/N nodded as they both left the office. Y/N felt awkward and shyer than ever before. Optimus decided to start a conversation. "Let me help you carry your books, Miss Y/N." He smiled politely.

"O-Oh my... Thank you, Optimus. Just please call me just Y/N." She smiled cutely as she gave her books to Optimus, who took them. Their hands actually touched each other and they both blushed. But Optimus just cleared his neck cables and held Y/N's books.

"I'll introduce you to my friends first. I want you to feel welcome and build friendships here, Y/N," Optimus explained with his usual politely smile.

"I'd love to have friends," Y/N said with a smile.

Optimus then leads the way as he was looking for his friends. Y/N was right next to him, feeling nervous since she's stared at him. Optimus noticed it and he used his free arm to wrap it around her waist and pull her close to his side. Y/N blushed bright red. Optimus couldn't help but find her so soft in secret. Not only that, but she was so cute, adorable, beautiful, and kind! Yeah, he's definitely in love.

"Hey, Optimus!" said a mech that was energetic.

"Hello, Smokescreen," Optimus greeted with a smile. "This is Y/N. She's new here. I'd like to introduce her to others and give her a tour."

"A human? Cool! My name is Smokescreen! Nice to meet you! I like you already! Come on, others are over there!" Smokescreen said with a smile as he suddenly grabbed Y/N's hand and dragged her, causing her to yelp in surprise as Optimus chuckled, following behind.

Once they all arrived, Smokescreen let Y/N go as she stood very nervous in front of some bots. Optimus quickly came to the rescue. "Autobots, this is Y/N. She's new here."

"Finally, another femme," said a blue and pink female bot that was smiling but also holding some bot's servo.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at that. "Surprise."

"Y/N, we are the Autobots. I'm the leader here. Meet my friends and team members. The femme who spoke to you is Arcee. She's our warrior."

Arcee nodded with a smile while Y/N did the same.

"Next to her is her sparkmate, Cliffjumper." He was a bit with horns and was red and black.

Y/N was surprised by what she heard. She guessed immediately that they were together as lovers. Aaaw... these bots can even fall in love. Y/N squealed inside.

"Our scout, Bumblebee, or just Bee."

Bumblebee beeped excitedly and waved at her. He was cute! No wonder why he's called like that. He indeed looked like a bee! With yellow and black color, he even had antennas!

Y/N waved back with a smile. "What happened to his voice."

"... It's a long story. Here in school have enemies called the Decepticons. Megatron is their leader. He destroyed Bumblebee's voice box, causing him only to let out sounds. He severely damaged his frame also. He's lucky that Ratchet fixed him up," Optimus explained while he had a look of sadness.

Y/N was shocked and went quiet. Just how cruel was Megatron? How could he do this? I mean, this is school! An academy! Where students go to study, find their future careers, and have friends! Bullying was absolutely one of the worst things ever in schools. Y/N was bullied before, but she ignored them, causing the bullying to stop. Yet, she's getting bullied again. Thus time by the Decepticons and worst... by Megatron.

"O-Oh... I'm sorry."

Bumblebee beeped and waved his servo off, signaling that it's fine.

"This is Ratchet. He's studying to become a medic," Optimus said, pointing to the red and white medic.

Ratchet only nodded with surprinlgy a small smile on his faceplate. Y/N smiled fully at him.

"Our wreckers, Bulkhead and Wheeljack."

"Hey, sunshine~," Wheeljack said with a flirty smile.

Y/N blushed and looked away. Great... a flirt in the group. Optimus felt jealousy inside. Bulkhead smiled and waved.

Optimus smiled. "Since the introduction is done, how about a tour?"

Y/N smiled and nodded. Others said their goodbyes as the Prime and the human girl walked off to have a tour. It was very interesting. Optimus explained each room and a bit of history about himself. He said that he was Alpha Trion's favorite student. He also told that his real name is Orion Pax and loves to hang out in the library to read books and study. No wonder that he's a nerd... but a cute one. He also surprisingly told the bond he was had with Megatron, who was called Megatronus previously and he joined a club where gladiators fought! No wonder that he became a big bully and always won fights! Y/N saw the differences: Megatron was strong while Optimus was smart.

Suddenly, the bell rang.

"I'll see you at lunch, Y/N," Optimus said with a smile as he gave the books back to Y/N.

"Ok, see ya, and thank you for introducing and for the tour, Optimus," Y/N said with a smile back.

Optimus then kissed Y/N's cheek, causing the human girl to blush a lot. Y/N eeped but then she did the same, kissing his cheekplate! She then entered the classroom while blushing madly. Optimus had a surprised look while blushing light blue. He showed a lovely smile and walked to be at his class. Let's just say that during the lesson, the Autobot leader and Y/N couldn't stop thinking about each other.~

I hope you enjoyed it! For those who didn't saw an important announcement, the requests of Optimus will be CLOSED FOR NOW. I got too many of them that I went mad and crazy. They will be back open when all requests are published. I will not respond to new requests. Some readers need to read the title or important announcements.

#optimus prime x reader #optimus prime #tfp #Transformers Prime #x reader #high school

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dildo-swaggins-t-baggins · 5 years ago

Note

Rodimus writes a list of all the reasons why he hates Thunderclash, then leaves it in his desk drawer. One of the others sneaks into his room, finds the list, and reads it over the ship's intercom system. Rodi is furious - not only has his privacy has been violated, but everyone is focusing on the fact that he "said" such nasty things about Clash instead of WHY he "said" them (since he mentioned all of his insecurities and the fact that Clash is so much better than he will ever be in the list).

Howdy, so first time doing this, and kinda excited but still nervous, let me know what you think! I also wanted a bit more angst being that I have no self control.

Lost Light, a ship full of mechs who had fought through 4 million years of war, highly qualified for anything the known and unknown universe would throw at them. But then again being on a ship for so long could only result in some sort of ‘horseplay’. For the most part the day was as normal as ever, simple routine, checking the mission log, and progress. And then it happened, it felt like he was going 100 mph and slammed into a concrete roadblock. The ship’s internal speaker screamed to life, halting the crew, every mech stopped and listened. Rodimus’ peds slammed into the floor so hard that sparks shot up, Drift did the same and they turned to the tiny wall speaker. “To the crew, a tiny memo from our beloved captain,” The speaker whined as the mech cleared his intake. “‘A list of what I hate about Thunderclash:”

He couldn’t tell what happened first, if his optics popped out of his helm, or if he changed into his alt-mode and flew down the hall. Drift was right on his bumper the whole way. “1:Thunderclash has this horrible paint job, what did he do? Blindfold himself and chuck a bunch of darts at a color wheel?Not only that but red? Red optics? Wow that’s sooo friendly, 10 out of 10, goes with the slag color scheme.” They passed Swerve and Ten who almost dropped their new shipment. “2: Why is he even a ‘hero’? So what, you were shot in the spark and lived, who hasn’t been shot in the spark? I don’t understand why everyone looks up to him? He’s just like everyone else and has a bad paint job.” They drifted around the corner, scaring Brainstorm, who attached his harness to the ceiling and lifted himself out of their way. “3:And then there’s this stubborn ‘fan club’, always following him around, stalking him, kinda feel bad for the guy, like hello? Give the poor mech some space to at least walk?” They slid into the lift Drift typed in the code, tapping his ped. “I’m thinking whoever is behind this, they’re going on the next mining shore leave with Megatron.” He hissed. “Why’d you write that?” Rodimus’ engine roared, praying to Primus that the lift would just move a little bit faster! “I couldn’t recharge that one night when I was paired up with Thunderclash on shore leave, and I had a quick com session with Rung, and he suggested I write down what I don’t like. Kinda helped me out. It’s not supposed to be read out loud.” The lift came to a stop and as soon as the doors were open enough for Rodimus’ alt-more to fit he floored it. “But that’s not the worst thing about Thunderclash, I think the absolute worst thing would be his oblivious nature. It’s bad when he hardly notices everyone falling onto their knees to kiss his aft. But it’s really bad when he can’t simply read the signs.” “Frag, frag, frag.” Rodimus hissed, spotting the captain’s office just ahead, a group of mechs jumped seeing his frame speeding right towards them with no indication of stopping. He started taking names of all of them, let Megatron sort them out. “I get it, honestly, he’s got this stupid puppy love crush on me, and it’s honestly embarrassing that he can’t simply take a very, VERY, clear ‘no’.” The mech snorted. “It’s kinda pathetic, thinking that I would be caught dead with that-” The door opened when he sent the code, changing into his root-mode and using his servo to catapult himself, then landing on his peds and front flipping into the office. “-the absolute wreck of a Prime.-” His ped smashed into Getaway’s golden battle mask, Getaway was thrown to the ground Rodimus’ peds firmly planted on his helm. With a flick of a digit he shut off the internal comm system, and turned his attention to the mech under him. Getaway was knocked out, then again having your helm slammed into the floor so hard that it creates a mini creator can do that to a mech. Rodimus spun around seeing a sea of not so happy optics glaring at him. “Frag.” He ducked as an empty cube was thrown at him, Drift sliced it in half and shut the door. Rodimus sunk behind his desk, wondering if the door was going to hold, and what to do with a knocked-out Getaway?

______________________________________________________________

He vented again, his whole system wheezed, peeling open his optics once more with a slight inhale. His systems reported that he was dangerously low on washer fluid and that was bad, and he didn't want to replace his ‘friendly’ optics anytime soon. With a huff he pulled himself out of his berth, rubbing his faceplates, he could still feel the moisture that clung to his cheek plating. Nothing like doing a double shift and getting ready to recharge and then you hear everything one of your captains hate about you being broadcasted over the whole ship. It felt like another fusion cannon to the spark, but this time it was Rodimus pulling the trigger. With a vent he pulled himself to the washroom, giving himself a good splash of cleaning fluid to the face. Then he stared at himself, eyeing his white orange, gold, blue and light teal, and to top it all off, his flashy decal. Admittedly the whole speech hurt, and he could grin and bear it, but what hurt was the last comment. “‘It’s kinda pathetic, thinking that I would be caught dead with that absolute wreck of a Prime.’” He quoted his captain, feeling his spark plummet again and his optics sting from the lack of washer fluid. “I-I suppose it is ‘puppy love’.” He forced himself to smile. “I’m sure the crew-no my…’fan club’? Is giving him a hard time.” Thunderclash vented turning away from the mirror. He jumped hearing a ping at his door, giving himself a quick shake, and trying to put on a tired-looking face, he opened the door. Riptide and Velocity briskly stepped in, Riptide pulled him back into his hab while Velocity glared out the door and locked it behind them, his two blue friends spun around and stared at him. “Did you hear it?” They both asked at the same time. “Honestly? Yeah.” He chuckled, it was dry and hurt his intake. “Thunders, honey.” Velocity pulled him into a hug. “Don’t you mind that.” Riptide patted his back. “Yeah, don’t let that get your down, alright?” Velocity pressed a kiss to the side of his helm. Riptide fell onto his back giving him a strange but loving hug. “Yeah, don’t let yourself get wrapped up in that.” He smiled. “Thank you, both of you. I’m more worried about the captain.” Velocity grit her denta. “What?” “Why?” Riptide asked his rudder snapping back and forth. “Well, it’s no secret that I’m more liked and my ‘fan club’ is going to be coming for his helm. Not only that but he’s the kind of mech that will beat himself up over this.” “Oh, so what are you planning on doing?” Riptide asked. “I was thinking if there was a way to tell the ‘club’ to leave it? And if he asks about it I’ll just say I was in recharge.” Thunderclash shrugged. “And I’ll just leave him alone, give him his space.” That did hurt, like stepping first into acid, he didn’t mean to crowd the captain, he just wanted to know Rodimus a bit better. Normally watching him from afar, and now he would just not watch the brilliant captain in action. “Oh well, I’ll be fine.” He grinned as it felt like another shot tore through his spark.

#mtmte rodimus #rodimus #Thunderclash #rodiclash #thunderod #angst #ask #Ask Me #I have no idea what I'm doing

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the-odd-job · 4 years ago

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Harem AU Chapter 11 - How’s the Heart?

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe/Starscream, Sideswipe/Starscream/Megatron/Sunstreaker Characters: Megatron, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Starscream, Skywarp, Twin Twist, Topspin, Unnamed Characters Additional Tags: Hurt & Comfort, Referenced Orgy, Public Sex, Rape, Sticky, Deepthroat, Coercion, Mindgames, Sex Related Injury Words: 12857

Fair winds, my love Fly towards the calm Fly utterly lost Towards a beating heart, a beating heart

How is that heart Underneath the silence? How is the one Drowning in the mire?

— Nightwish – How's the Heart?

( Previous )

They’d found their way to their own cots at the back of the room at some point during the night. The memories were hazy, again, exhaustion muddling their thoughts, but it had to have happened after the damn signal was turned off.

At least… At least Megatron had somewhat lost interest in them after he’d come in Sideswipe’s mouth. He had waved them off to the side and called other, more obedient members of the harem to see to him—using their mouths, having them ride his spike, kissing them, everything and anything, and the lot of looked like they were enjoying themselves as they practically (and sometimes literally) kissed the damned mech’s pedes.

But somewhat forgotten, the twins had slipped off the berth, only to collapse onto the floor, unable to overcome the weakness in their limbs from too many overloads, from too great arousal, from too much emotion.

The other mates, not called to the dais, came for them, gently guiding them from the floor and onto the cots where they welcomed them with open arms, ignored Sunstreaker’s growls and Sideswipe’s pleas and used their valves, their spikes—relieved them with murmurs of how it was okay, there was no need to fight it, how they should just let go and listen to their crazed protocols. Because what else could they do?

There were overloads. So many of them, the stench of lubricant and transfluid so heavy he was surprised the air hadn’t dripped.

Primus. He wasn’t even sure which was worse, Megatron or the other mates. Megatron was cruel, uncaring, only interested in what they could give him and how he could have exactly what he wanted. The mates, they veiled their rape in kindness, like they were helping, guiding them into an awakening—and they had helped, because he wasn’t sure their systems wouldn’t have entirely burned out if they’d tried to fight their arousal, the protocols, for too long. The mates had helped them dispel some of that, enough of it that it didn’t straight up kill them.

But all of it had been… So unwanted. And after their frames had tired too much, it had turned into a dream, out of focus—or what he’d wished was just a dream. A very, very bad dream disguised in a good one, a pleasurable one, the kind that you could overload from without any external stimulus.

It wasn’t a dream, though, and he couldn’t deny it had happened—not with the harem wing still surrounding them with its warm colors, smell of all permeating interface, the berthroom with its many cots… And the other mates. There were contended rumbles coming from elsewhere in the room, satiated cuddling, quiet laughter… Everyone spent in the best—worst—of ways. Even the frag crazed fraggers the mates were, were calm for the time. No one was interfacing, just… Enjoying the afterglow.

And he couldn’t deny the afterglow himself. His frame was buzzing pleasantly, the damned protocols that had been so wholly turned against him now laying dormant, disinterested in the way of being fully sated, thanking him for all the attention he’d given them.

Without wanting to.

They sat on their cot, the one closer to the wall, their backs to the rest of the room, trying to forget everyone else and everything they had done to them. Sideswipe was fiddling with his servos, scraping his claws together, his spark spinning too fast.

Sunstreaker sat, elbows on his knees and his helm clutched in his servos.

It wasn’t fine. None of it was fine, no matter what the other mates said. Sideswipe was hurting so badly, unable to shake off the memories Megatron had brought to the forefront to break his resistance. My Lord.

Pits. Everything he’d been made to do under his own power, to show respect he didn’t feel, didn’t want to give. Made to wait there, in the solitude and quiet of Megatron’s berthroom for when the tyrant would come back and abuse him some more, never knowing when that would be or what it would bring.

Fuel and relative freedom dangled in front of him to force him to cooperate.

He couldn’t believe Sideswipe wasn’t crying as those memories spun around in his helm, joined by the ones from last night

Sunstreaker wasn’t sure he was feeling much better, even if tears were beyond him too. Everything Megatron had done… During the time he’d spent alone with him, then the relief of several days of nothing, only for that to be… Shattered.

Denied an overload, so aroused he thought he might die from it—denied, until he spoke the things Megatron wanted.

He couldn’t believe, now, that he’d given in so easily, that he’d thanked that monster, that he’d asked for his spike… How could he have been so desperate? The memory of the need in his frame surely didn’t compare to what it was like in the moment, but still he couldn’t believe it.

Never again. Could he promise that much to himself? Promise that he’d never again thank him, never again beg for him?

He wanted to, but his spark cracked with the almost certain knowledge that anything he would promise, any resistance he could offer… That Megatron would only break it, one way or another.

It hurt. It hurt in both of them, and the pain echoed between them, bouncing back and forth until it didn’t matter whose it was. It was theirs. Their pain over the hell they’d gotten stuck in.

How he missed Iacon and its gutters, the low life of scraping by—it was so much better than this.

But it had had its risks and its dangers, and they had fallen victim to those, only to end up in here.

They were rested now. Low on energon, but rested, and their fuel levels would be easily fixed if they dragged themselves to the dining hall. It was hard to find the will to move, though—easier to get caught up in their looping thoughts.

Starscream, too. He was a peculiar one. By all appearances… What? What was he? It was like he hated wasting time on them, but from the beginning he had taken the role of showing them around, showing them their place, telling them what they needed to do and how they needed to do it—performing the near administrative tasks like giving them their language files and asking what they were good for.

And yesterday… Acting as if he was keeping the harem itself safe, forcing them to please Megatron when they would have fought—why did he do that? Because Megatron was in a mood, and that made him more dangerous than usual?

What was Starscream’s role in all of this? It was like he was the secondary leader of the harem. Was there a pecking order, then, one that Starscream was at the very top of, only bowing to Megatron and… The other free mechs, probably. It didn’t look like Starscream was free in any shape or form. He lived and fucked in the harem just like the rest of them, only ever briefly leaving—always returning.

Did Starscream care enough, despite the appearance he put forth, that he was intent on keeping the harem members safe? And he was likely the one who had started the event chain that had led Sunstreaker to have his drawing tablet. Maybe Megatron needed to have approved that, but wasn’t it Starscream who had asked what they did, and said he’d made note of it?

The one who had likely brought it up with Megatron, made the request?

It was as confusing as the rest of what the mates did and how they acted.

Once again they could hear thrusters hitting the floor with every step, approaching them, but when they turned to look it was Skywarp, not Starscream. He was carrying two cubes and smiled at them when he had their attention. “I figured you’d be as hungry as the rest of us! Here,” he said, offering both of the cubes to them.

Sideswipe took them a bit automatically, blinking at them only after they were both in his servos already.

Sunstreaker could feel him shrugging mentally before he passed one of the cubes to him. It appeared their contents were identical, down to their warmth and flavor

“Thanks,” Sideswipe murmured quietly before taking a sip. As usual, the energon was fragging delicious, and as full of energy as midgrade just could be. Sunstreaker followed suit and began to drink his own, giving his frame the fuel it very much needed.

“You’re welcome! And thanks for last night, by the way. Megatron wasn’t in the best of moods, but you really took the edge off him,” Skywarp carried on, rocking on his heels and looking like he genuinely meant what they said.

Had they taken one for the team or something?

They were quiet for a moment, drinking their energon, trying to… Trying to forget Skywarp’s participation in all of last night, before Sideswipe spoke up with their question. “What could have happened, if he was in a bad mood?”

Skywarp glanced away from them, his wings flicking like he was… Uncomfortable. Well, that was a first.

But it probably said something about what Megatron could do when he was in a mood. “Nothing good,” Skywarp responded at length, shaking his helm. “He doesn’t always take it out on us or anything, but someone else out there might feel it before he comes to us.”

Out there. In the freedom.

And it was Skywarp admitting that Megatron sometimes mistreated them—by the sounds of it, even those that behaved themselves.

So had last night gone well, considering they hadn’t lost limbs or had any physical parts broken? That Megatron had just raped them?

The twins shared a glance. They’d known, at least on some level, that Megatron was dangerous. Of course he was! He was fragging strong in all ways, powerful, and far too good at twisting everything into his favor… But Free Cybertron painted him as temperamental too, on top of being cruel as he had already proven to be.

They, though, had mostly seen him smug, amused, in control. Very few traces of any temper, any anger, no matter how they’d pushed.

But it was still there, wasn’t it? Under the surface, all the time. Were they lucky they hadn’t come to the receiving end of it? Probably.

And… Now what? Was it their job to bring the tyrant down from his more dangerous spells? That of the mates? Just… Frag him until he had burned out his anger and frustrations?

Sideswipe bit his lip; Sunstreaker shook his helm. Some lot in life that was.

They had to get out.

----------------------------------------------------

They eventually dragged themselves to the washracks and took their sweet time making the most of the facilities provided for them, ridding themselves of the signs of the orgy, the countless pain transfers, scuffs, dried fluids inside and out. With the amount of imperfections it was going to be a long process anyway, but they lengthened it further for their own enjoyment.

They had no reason not to. Take what they could, use it to prop themselves up, until they were out of here.

Even if they were no closer to finding a way out. But it didn’t matter how long it took. It didn’t matter.

One day, they’d make it out.

In the meantime, in between working towards that one singular goal, they finished touching up their finishes until they were shining, glowing all over again—for themselves and for the joy of watching themselves from the mirrors, no one else—and then headed for the entertainment room, again, after a quick detour to their trunks for Sunstreaker to fetch his tablet. Pass the time with something pleasant, waiting for a chance to find a way out.

They sat themselves on one of the lush couches against the wall opposite the door, Sideswipe watching the show on the main screen, Sunstreaker burying himself in his drawing. He wasn’t going to let this one thing be taken from him just because it had been turned against him in short order.

He wouldn’t stop using it just because slagging Megatron had made him thank him for it. Megatron wouldn’t have that victory. He wouldn’t ruin this.

And… The other mates. Slag, this wasn’t even the first time they’d forced themselves on them. It should’ve been expected, after the first orgy. Some of them were already in the entertainment room and others trickled in slowly… It wasn’t comfortable to be around them, not really, but pits. There wasn’t really anywhere to get away from them all, unless they wanted to return to hiding in the library.

Wasn’t the best they could do just try to forget? They were stuck around the lot of them for now, anyway. They could hiss and growl at them all they wanted, but it wouldn’t change a damn thing.

He doubted it would make the other mates understand any more than slagging anything had so far. Anything they’d said or done, the others had only met with confusion. Why were the twins so upset, they’d wonder.

They were already too messed up to get it, so warped they couldn’t understand their position anymore.

And they had to live surrounded by that for now… Frag. He’d be so happy to get to return to the outside world where mecha actually saw this shit as unacceptable. Like it was. Where they’d be rightly horrified by it.

Instead of… All this.

Sideswipe was frowning at the screen, but from his own distraction, it took Sunstreaker a moment to notice his thoughts running onto new tracks. Once he picked up on it, he glanced up at Sideswipe, who, by now, was passing his optics over the room in search of one pair of wings.

As luck would have it, Skywarp was present, playing some board game with three other mates, laughing at whatever they were finding funny right then. Sunstreaker’s optics followed his brother as Sideswipe got up and wove his way past the furniture to them, seating himself next to Skywarp.

And tried not to think if any of them had fragged them last night, how many times, and in what ways.

“Hi, Sides!” Skywarp greeted him, as did the others, all offering smiles to him. “What’s up? Wanna join? There’s room for more!”

“Nah, I’m good just watching,” Sideswipe turned the invitation down with just a lopsided grin—not one his old, bright ones, full of zeal for life. Those Megatron had stolen from him, but… It was a grin all the same. He tried. “I was wondering if I could ask something, though.”

Skywarp looked at him curiously and the others followed suit, but the Seeker nodded. “Sure. Shoot away.”

“Okay, so, like half the stuff on tv and in the book files,” Sideswipe started, staring at the game board studiously, “the story ones, there’s almost always someone from Free Cybertron trying to get to or getting to Kaon, and then that’s like… The good ending. But I thought Kaon was closed to outsiders? Why does that theme just repeat?”

The other mates shared a few glances among each other, but Skywarp was the one who replied. “Well, that’s the dream, isn’t it?” he asked, and Sideswipe glanced up at him in confusion. Skywarp clarified, “To escape Unified Cybertron.”

Now Sideswipe frowned. They didn’t even call it Free Cybertron, although no one said anything to him for calling it that.

But they called it Unified Cybertron, just like everyone and everything else here. And while the word “unified” wasn’t necessarily or inherently full of negative connotations, in this context it absolutely was.

And what the pit was this about escaping Free—Free—Cybertron? Into fragging Kaon of all places?

The damn hellhole where they’d been raped way too many times to count almost from the moment they’d crossed its borders?

Sideswipe had a lot of things to say and a lot of anger to unleash, but instead all that came out was a quiet, “I don’t understand.”

Because he didn’t. He didn’t understand any of this.

“Kaon is free of the Prime’s influence,” another of the mates answered. Topspin, maybe? He seemed to remember someone calling him that.

And… That was all he said. As if that explained everything.

It didn’t. It didn’t explain a damn thing. Sideswipe’s frown deepened in even greater frustration and he scrubbed both of his servos down his face. And resisted the urge to just scream. Not even any words, just… Screm.

Screm.

That would’ve been real nice right about now, but at the same time, he didn’t really want to make a scene in the middle of the entertainment room. Who knew where that would get him. Maybe nothing would come out of it. At this point he doubted the other mates would’ve even understood why he was frustrated, why he was angry, why he felt fit to fragging explode… No matter how he voiced any of that.

They just lived their lives here, apparently happy to frag and get fragged and for some reason buying into this whole bullshit about Kaon being the Free part of Cybertron. That, despite the fact they were all trapped in the harem wing.

What was free about that?

“Anyway,” Skywarp spoke up again and Sideswipe peeked at him from between his digits, “It doesn’t happen a lot, that’s true. It’d be dangerous to let too many in, but they’re stories. Fantasy. Make believe. You know? You can toy with the best case scenarios there, no matter how unlikely they’d be in real life.”

Best case scenarios.

Sideswipe groaned. Pits, his helm was going to start hurting at this rate, trying to make sense of how these mechs had been twisted into believing all the garbage shot at them from every direction like from the barrel of a goddamn machine gun. It was all… Upside down. Everything here was. Wrong way around in every way imaginable.

“Thanks,” he mumbled before he slipped off the seat and wandered back to Sunstreaker. His brother was watching him, frowning like he was, equally disturbed by the answers he’d gotten.

Frag this place.

He flopped down next to his twin like he’d never left, but somehow he didn’t feel like watching the show as much anymore. Maybe he should play something instead. Sunstreaker had gone back to his drawing, happy to lose himself into his work, so he wasn’t going to be any entertainment.

Sideswipe turned on one of the smaller screens and browsed through the game library.

Someone noticed he was doing that. “Hey! Sideswipe– You’re Sideswipe, right?” a blue and white mech had turned around on one of the couches ahead of them and was looking straight at him.

“Yeah?” Sideswipe answered more than a little hesitantly. Had he… Done something wrong? He’d played the games before without anyone saying anything about it…

But no, it wasn’t like that. “I’m Twin Twist, nice to make our official introductions,” Twin Twist grinned at him before he gestured vaguely towards the screen Sideswipe had claimed for himself. “Wanna play Destiny’s Razor with me?”

Oh he liked that game, but he hadn’t tried its multiplayer property a lot yet.

It was an easy decision he came to after just a few seconds of considering it. Sideswipe grinned back and nodded. “Heck yeah.”

Twin Twist’s smile widened before he turned back around, picked the game and joined it, Sideswipe following suit—a bit of excitement curling in their spark.

Time to wreak some virtual havoc.

-----------------------------------------------

After a while of playing, Sideswipe took Twin Twist’s invitation to join him on the couch the other mech was sitting on, to better enjoy the game together. Sunstreaker didn’t mind being left behind to his art.

And Sideswipe knew him. If nothing and no one interrupted him, he could draw all day and all night, foregoing fueling and recharge if he hit the zone. And… There hadn’t been chances for that often, on the streets. They needed to earn their living, and it wasn’t safe to lose your focus of your surroundings like that.

Things were so different here. The only real threat was Megatron, otherwise they didn’t have too much to worry about.

But speak of the devil… Sideswipe didn’t pay much attention to the heavy pedesteps coming down the hall, too engrossed in shooting things, but the wave of arousal and excitement in the fields around them kicked both of the twins out of their tasks.

Their confusion only lasted a moment. One glance at the door and their spark shrunk in on itself.

Megatron was standing there, looking at the room at large like it was all there for him, and it was. It was all for him, every last one of them.

And there were so many to choose from and more crowded in the hallway behind him, fields all around them fluttering with hope that they would be picked to do whatever Megatron wanted of them this time.

Not the twins’ fields though, and yet Megatron’s optics first landed on Sunstreaker, clutching onto his tablet for dear life, and then that red gaze passed everyone else before zeroing onto Sideswipe, staring back at him like a deer in the headlights.

Megatron entered the room properly and walked over to one of the couches up front and center. Its occupants moved out of the way at once and the tyrant sat down on it, reclining on the assuredly comfortable piece of furniture. Everyone kept a respectful distance from him, despite the eagerness that was swamping the room.

There were only two little dots that didn’t join in on the sentiment, and it was them that Megatron focused on. “Sunstreaker, Sideswipe. Come here.”

Sunstreaker growled, in no way motivated to do as he was told. Twin Twist nudged Sideswipe, jerking his helm towards Megatron. It was clear what everyone else thought: the order had been given, thus it should be obeyed.

Without delay.

They delayed until Megatron’s optics began to narrow, and from there on… It wasn’t their choice anymore. Starscream was on the move again, first marching over to Sideswipe and grabbing by a horn. Sideswipe’s squawk went completely ignored as Starscream simply dragged him over to Megatron and shoved him onto the couch next to him. Sideswipe laid still where he landed, his spark pulsing and rotating too fast for comfort—staring up at Megatron who met his gaze with something… Dangerous dancing in those red optics.

Starscream fetched Sunstreaker too, and he was thrown onto Megatron’s other side. The other mates closed ranks around them. He couldn’t have run even if he’d wanted to.

And he wanted to. He didn’t want to be here, with his plating brushing against Megatron’s, the vibrations of the tyrant’s powerful engine traveling into him just so.

Megatron didn’t remove his optics from Sideswipe and Sideswipe couldn’t look away, not even when one of Megatron’s servos came to… Caress his cheek.

He shivered, from helm to pede. The touch was so unwanted, but fear rooted him in place.

He would’ve rather Megatron hit him. Not… This. Fake gentleness when he was sure Megatron didn’t have a gentle molecule in him. He was evil, rusted and rotten to his very core.

Megatron only went on to prove that much with his next words. “Coax it out, Sideswipe.”

There wasn’t exactly a reason to ask what he was supposed to coax out. Not when they’d been here before, when he’d been given that order before—when he’d resisted, so fucking hard, or, or… He thought he had, anyway, before hunger had driven him into cooperation.

“No,” Sideswipe said now, the shaking of his helm only stopped when Megatron caught a hold of his jaw—and that did nothing to stop the rest of his frame from shaking.

“That’s not what we say, is it, Sideswipe?” Megatron asked. Sunstreaker growled on his other side, but there was a flash of white, blue, and red, followed by angry cursing.

Starscream pinned Sunstreaker when his brother would have tried to intervene, would have tried to– To save him.

From this. From Megatron. Somehow. Could it have ever worked?

Shouldn’t they have tried anyway?

But they weren’t given the chance.

Megatron’s grip on his jaw tightened as his silence stretched on, but it wasn’t pain that had tears running down Sideswipe’s cheeks in rivulets. It was bad enough when Megatron told that to him in private, told him to do things in private, when there was no one to see Sideswipe’s disgrace—no one to see him fail in trying to remain the master of his own life, his own fate.

He wasn’t that anymore. Not when his opposition was Megatron.

But he wasn’t ready to just give up, especially not with everyone watching. The other mates, they were all rapt on them, quiet, but their hunger for Megatron’s attention reflected in their fields. A little more and they would’ve been downright jealous of the attention the brothers—Sideswipe—were getting.

He’d gladly swap places with any of them, right now.

Megatron’s thumb brushed across his lower lip, rough, then rougher yet on the second pass, but he didn’t repeat his question even as his grip began to tighten to an extent that was starting to threaten the integrity of his facial plates and all of the underlying structures. Sideswipe whined, but he wouldn’t say it, not again–

But then Megatron reached along the length of his far smaller frame, his claws brushing across his tightly closed valve cover, and then grabbing his aft. He remembered still. Of course he still remembered how much Sideswipe liked that. Pits, he was shaking so hard, and Megatron started to toy with his frame, fondling his aft, petting his valve cover, dragging his claws along the seams, but not so hard it would’ve hurt.

Just aroused. He was turning his frame on until Sideswipe had to keep his hips from dancing, until he was biting his lip to fight back his moans. Sunstreaker was growling, furious, but Starscream kept him down, kept him from being able to do anything as Sideswipe grit his denta and tried to deny his frame–

But he met Megatron’s optics, and although it came as a gasp more than anything else… “No.”

“Oh?” Megatron asked, raising one of his optical ridges at him. Then his gaze rose, looking at something—someone—behind him. “Were you sitting next to Twin Twist? Come here.”

At once Sideswipe could hear someone getting up and hurrying over until an all too eager field was lapping against his own. “Spike him,” Megatron said next, and the energon in Sideswipe’s lines froze for a moment before his fuel pump beat back into action.

“NO!” he said, shouted, trying to pull, twist, yank himself free, but Megatron’s grip on his jaw was unrelenting.

The servos that landed on his aft this time, the digits that started to play with the edges of his valve cover, they didn’t belong to Megatron. His frame was already running hot from Megatron’s all too knowledgeable touch, and Twin Twist wasn’t any less experienced. Sideswipe’s tears ran more numerous, but no one paid any mind to all the ways he phrased how he didn’t want this, didn’t agree to this, get the slag away from him–

Twin Twist only touched him until his frame reached a limit and forced his valve cover open despite himself. That was all the invitation Twin Twist needed, burying his spike into his valve at once. At least he was fragging well lubricated by now, and… Twin Twist wasn’t rough, or careless, like Megatron was, like none of the mates had been in the last orgy. It was clear he moved to enjoy himself too, but the way he circled his hips and alternated his thrusts, all the little tricks Sideswipe didn’t even know a name for… It felt good. It felt way too damn good, even without his interface protocols under an accursed spell. And Twin Twist wasn’t too big, especially not after everything his valve had already been through. It didn’t hurt at all.

He was moaning soon enough, squeezing his optics shut and focusing on fighting his losing battle against his frame. It didn’t matter how much he didn’t want this and it didn’t matter how much he tried to deny it, it was pleasure that started to course through him.

And when Megatron released his jaw, Sideswipe’s helm fell to the couch and he tried to silence his sounds into his arm.

With Sideswipe appropriately punished for his refusal, forced into enjoying all of this all over again, Megatron turned his attention back to Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker growled, a hard, deep sound when the tyrant’s optics fell on him, still expertly pinned in place by Starscream. Growling and glaring was all he could do.

But with one gesture from Megatron, Starscream released him. Sunstreaker raised himself up immediately, only for Megatron to seize him by the throat and pull him close, considering him for a moment before his gaze dropped to Sunstreaker’s groin. Sunstreaker snarled harder at that, for all the good it would do for him. Was there anything he could have ever done to discourage Megatron? He couldn’t rightly think of anything.

Rip off his spike, maybe. If he even could have with the damn thing apparently made from steel for all the damage it just shrugged off.

And that would have likely gotten him killed. Not the best of plans, no matter how satisfying it would’ve been in the last few moments of his life.

“Do you like your new gait?” Megatron asked him. Sunstreaker bared his denta, and tried to jerk free when Megatron’s other servo ran down his frame, to his hips, and then lower, stroking his valve cover. “Should we maintain it a little bit, hmm? It would be such a shame if you lost it.”

“Says you,” Sunstreaker growled past the constriction of his vocalizer. “My frame, and I don’t want it. Go die in the gutters, you fragging halfwit.”

“Your frame?” Megatron questioned, ignoring the insults.

But the tyrant’s fake confusion melted away very quickly, replaced by what looked a hell of a lot like genuine, restrained anger. “Don’t forget who you belong to, youngling,” he growled. And now Megatron’s grip tightened enough that he could say no more, only a burst of stating coming out when he tried. He wasn’t allowed to keep fighting, not even just verbally.

And then he was flipped about, onto his stomach across Megatron’s lap—with his aft presented to Sideswipe, who looked up in alarm. “Prepare your brother for me.”

Sunstreaker’s engine roared and Sideswipe shook his helm, even as he moaned from Twin Twist’s treatment, flirting with the edge of an overload.

Megatron didn’t waste time on trying to get him to do as he was told. “Topspin,” he said instead, without looking up. Topspin stepped up at once, ready for orders that came in short order. “Show Sideswipe how it’s done.” Sunstreaker’s valve cover earned itself a meaningful tap.

He tried to jerk away again, but Megatron gripped him tight and Topspin stepped over, angling Sunstreaker’s lower half until he had access to the junction of his thighs.

Then there were lips on his panel, and a glossa, these too knowing exactly what they were doing as they started to administer pleasure to his frame. Megatron kept Sunstreaker’s vocalizer quiet, but his frame revved hard, first from anger–

But then, when Topspin never once let up, the sound turned into reluctant arousal. He couldn’t stop his physical responses of his frame any more than Sideswipe could, and he wasn’t allowed to escape the mouth working insistently on his cover—until it snapped back with another burst of static from Sunstreaker.

A dexterous glossa slipped inside his valve at once, seeking out all the sensors in its reach in its first thrust in, pull out, another push inside, brushing against sensitive areas as if it had invaded his valve before and knew all of his ins and outs already.

But that could probably just be attributed to his valve being standard build.

It didn’t work in his favor, that was for sure. Sunstreaker tried to jerk his hips away, time and time again, but not once did it work, and with Topspin intent on his task, his vents were heaving hot air from his frame in far too short order. “That’ll do,” Megatron said at that point, and finally Topspin pulled back, as did Twin Twist leave his brother, although knowing what would follow… Sunstreaker would have rather had him than Megatron.

But he’d been prepared for Megatron. The tyrant pulled him by his throat until he was on his hands and knees on the couch. He was let go, but before he could even try to get away—as little as he expected the other mates would have let him—Megatron had already positioned himself behind him, one knee on the couch, the other on the floor, and rammed into his valve. Sunstreaker jerked from the pain that stabbed his internals, but snuffed the sounds that wanted to escape his vocalizer.

Megatron’s pace… Pits, he was getting some serious flashbacks to his very first interface with the tyrant. This wasn’t just Megatron taking his pleasure out of him. This was about making him hurt, for his insolence no doubt.

And Primus but it hurt. Megatron was again showing his strength with the amount of oomph he put behind each and every thrust, and he angled his hips in just the way to hit where Sunstreaker would feel it the most—Sideswipe said something, half scream, but then there was Starscream again, pushing his brother down and keeping him there.

Do not interfere. Not with anything Megatron saw fit to do.

Sunstreaker first groaned at a particularly hard entry into his frame, and then, when Megatron corrected his technique some–

He screamed. It wasn’t loud, and it was hoarse, but he couldn’t for the life of him keep quiet when Megatron hit something, and Sunstreaker didn’t know his own damn frame well enough to say what it was without reading the damage reports, but something buckled deep in him, then gave away entirely under the continued assault of Megatron’s goddamned spike.

He could feel wetness leak into his internals, meeting his armor and then seeping past the gaps—probably one of his tanks was what had gotten damaged, then.

How, how Megatron could break something like a tank with nothing but his spike… He didn’t understand. Spikes weren’t supposed to be able to break a damn thing.

But whatever modifications Megatron’s had, it spelled pain for Sunstreaker, right then and there. He didn’t look what color fluids were bleeding out of him, too busy gritting his denta, too busy pressing his face into his arm, shuttering his optics until there was nothing but black behind his HUD. Warnings were flashing at him and he let them blink away in the dark, trying to focus on the repetition of that rather than the repetition of Megatron’s spike hammering into his frame until he wasn’t sure his armor wouldn’t cave from inside out.

Pain.

Sideswipe was crying, begging for it to stop, curling in on himself from the phantom sensations he was suffering, too stubborn to pull away, too stubborn to not share–

But no matter what he said, Megatron paid him no heed, let nothing and no one distract him before Sunstreaker had fallen silent again—agony in his frame, in his valve, his midsection, until he couldn’t even make sense of the signals anymore, until he had no hope of keeping up with them. They drowned out everything else, even his vocoder.

Once he reached that point, then Megatron decided it was sufficient. The tyrant growled above and behind him, his transfluid pouring into his valve—and then past it. Last time he hadn’t been certain if it was real or imagined.

This time he didn’t imagine it.

His frame shook as Megatron finally pulled out and stood up. “The both of you will come to my wing tonight,” he said, and even to Sunstreaker’s hazy processors there was little doubt he was talking about him and Sideswipe. “Have Knock Out fix that first.”

And with those parting words, he walked out.

Sunstreaker couldn’t will his frame to move, not with the pain radiating from his core into every part of his frame. Sideswipe, unhurt as he was, scrambled to his side as soon as Starscream let him, his servos hovering over golden plating. Tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t know how to touch, where to touch without hurting him more. “Sunny…” he said so quietly, but it reached his audials all the same.

He could feel the question in them. Was it worth it? Was defiance worth it when it’d only leave them bloodied and broken, one way or another? Were those little moments of satisfaction worth this?

Sunstreaker forced his optics open when someone approached, and glanced up at Skywarp. The Seeker had a sorrowful look about his face, for once. Did even he acknowledge this much was messed up?

But he laid the blame at their pedes, not Megatron’s. “You really shouldn’t test him like that,” Skywarp murmured, and that… That was probably the overarching sentiment of all the mates, wasn’t it? That they had asked for this.

Their fault for pushing Megatron to a violent limit of his.

“Let’s get you to Knock Out.” Twin Twist. Sideswipe snarled at him, but it was without any real strength. Yeah, he’d just gotten raped by the mech, but what else was new? They’d all forced themselves on them at one point or other.

Sideswipe had gotten pleasure, unwanted. Sunstreaker had earned himself pain. Which was better? Which was worse?

Before, he would have said he preferred pain, no questions asked.

He wasn’t as sure anymore.

It was Twin Twist and Topspin that gently laid their servos on his frame, pulling him up and supporting him when the utter agony of his internals stole all steadiness from his legs. His helm hung, his vents heaved—but no longer from heat or arousal.

It just hurt, like getting stabbed several times over, aggravated by every move he made… But it wouldn’t get better anytime soon, not without Knock Out.

So he ground his denta together and tried to bear it, tried to ignore it enough to at least move his legs—even so, the other set of twins had to nearly carry him between them. Sideswipe followed on their heels, wanting so bad to help, but without the ways or the means to do so.

It was an excruciatingly long walk down the hallway to the medbay, but they made it, eventually. Topspin and his brother helped him onto one of the berths before Sideswipe took their place by his side, clutching onto his servo, his arm.

Sunstreaker squeezed his servo back, trying to calm their turbulent spark. Yeah, that had been bad, and yeah, he hurt now, but it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

He’d be fine.

Sideswipe found it hard to believe.

Knock Out walked over from wherever he had been—his quarters, maybe?—took one look at him, and shook his helm. “Now what did you do to earn that? Don’t answer, I don’t want to know. Especially not the details.”

He said all of that so casually, like this was no big deal, like this happened too often for him to give a frag anymore. If he ever had given a frag to begin with. Sideswipe growled again, but Knock Out fluently ignored him and merely scanned Sunstreaker. He sighed at whatever he found—annoyed, more than anything.

Not bothered.

Not feeling sorry for them.

Not thinking this was wrong.

Just Knock Out being Knock Out, the harem’s detached medic and bodywork miracle.

“I’ll put you to stasis for the repairs. This shouldn’t take too long. Are you..?” Knock Out trailed off, looking up at Sideswipe.

“I’m staying,” Sideswipe said firmly.

Knock Out shrugged. “Just stay out of my way and keep quiet. Now then!” Sunstreaker turned his helm to the side on the medic’s approach, let him plug in, and watched as Knock Out initiated medical stasis.

His frame slumped, fleeing consciousness leaving all systems lax and only the vital ones online. Sideswipe gave his brother’s arm one more squeeze before he stepped back to huddle against the wall. Out of the way, like Knock Out had told him.

And quiet, hard as that was.

Sunstreaker had been just like this, in stasis, helpless, out of it, when Megatron had used his frame only for him to come back online to the signs of what had been done to him.

Sideswipe couldn’t disagree that that was… Beyond messed up. What kind of a mech fragged a corpse?

The same kind of mech that would interface you to pieces if you showed disrespect.

He wasn’t even crying at this point, as much as old tear tracks had dried on his face. Megatron wanted them in his wing. Tonight. And he was bound to be displeased after what had happened, here.

He was too sore to hurt any more. Not… Not physically. His frame could still be made to suffer in ways he hadn’t even known about, he was sure about that much.

But he wasn’t so sure his spark could contain any more pain than it already did. He wasn’t sure his mind was ready to process anything more.

He felt about ready to stop feeling.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately, he became less certain of his emotional immunity when they were led to Megatron’s wing that night. Fear was rising, quickly.

Knock Out had fixed Sunstreaker like he had fixed them every time before. Sunstreaker wasn’t in pain, anymore, aside from the little sting of fresh welds. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

But would it remain that way, or did Megatron have something painful in mind for them now? They had displeased him. In his twisted mind that probably earned them all sorts of awfulness, that Sideswipe wasn’t looking forward to one bit.

The doors to the wing closed behind them, and trapped they were. Sunstreaker was gripping his servo, trying to calm him, to build strength in him—but he wasn’t sure that, for once, Sunstreaker wasn’t equally trying to gather strength from him instead of just giving it to him. Things had… Never been this bad before. They’d gotten hurt before, pretty badly, and they’d struggled to get themselves the necessary repairs, but never before had anyone tried to systematically break them, inside and out.

That was what Megatron was doing now though, a-and… They’d acted out, and felt it, especially Sunstreaker, which could only be the beginning to the plans Megatron had for them.

But there was no running, not from this, so, together, they walked down the long hall, past all of the closed doors, and to the lounge where Megatron was already sitting, reading something. He glanced up on their arrival, and frowned. “Berthroom, you two.” His tone… Megatron was done playing around, wasn’t he?

Sideswipe swallowed hard, but after a glance at Sunstreaker that his brother returned, they slowly crept past the furniture of the lounge and to the doors of Megatron’s berthroom, and through them, and– Pits, what would happen now?

They could hear Megatron getting up behind them, walking after them until he was forcing them further into the room with the threat of touching them to nudge them in the right direction. They wanted as little of his touch as possible, as much as they expected there would be a lot of that tonight.

“Get on the berth,” came the next command, and ever hesitantly they did just that, hoisting themselves up and scooting somewhere off to the center. Megatron followed them, his optics severe. Not amused, not smug.

Just intent on making them do as they were told and exactly as they were told. The means he’d use to that end… He didn’t want to know, but he was sure they’d find out anyway.

“Make out,” Megatron said next. Sideswipe started, Sunstreaker growled—and they didn’t do it.

Megatron raised an optical ridge at them, unimpressed. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how. You’re brothers.” They were, and yeah, they knew how, they enjoyed it… But not in these circumstances.

Even Sunstreaker didn’t dare say anything, but they didn’t act on the order either.

And Megatron proved he just wasn’t going to wait for them, not anymore. He reached over, and before they could jerk out of the way, his servo had found Sideswipe’s valve cover, claws dug into the seams, and torn the entire panel off. Sideswipe was too unprepared, too surprised to even make a sound even as his sensors alerted him to the pain, just keeled forward into Sunstreaker’s arms.

Then three of the tyrant’s thick digits stabbed into his bared valve without any warning, any preparation. Now Sideswipe gasped when the sharp tips raked against his valve mesh, making his hips jerk in an attempt to get away—but that only dug Megatron’s claws deeper, and he had to stop, had to still himself lest he damage his equipment further.

Megatron began to move his servo, and this wasn’t about arousing him, no. He dragged his claws across sensitive sensors in a way that didn’t do anything more than hurt with sharp pains, and Sideswipe clutched onto Sunstreaker’s arms, closing his optics tight.

“Make out,” Megatron repeated, and now his digits slowed, the suggestion clear as day: do as they were told and it didn’t have to hurt.

Sideswipe glanced up at Sunstreaker, his brother staring back at him with a pained expression, but what could they do?

What could they do?

Sideswipe reached up now, and pressed his lips against Sunstreaker’s. They were unresponsive, but just for a second before Sunstreaker returned the kiss, almost desperately—wrapping his arm around Sideswipe to keep him close, to give and seek comfort from each other.

Because that was all they had now, wasn’t it? Each other.

Megatron’s digits abandoned his valve, blessedly, horribly—rewarded for something he didn’t want to do in the first place. He didn’t want to give in, but by the pits… What options did they have?

At least the press of Sunstreaker’s lips was familiar, when their glossae entwined, it was familiar, and the taste… It was his brother, there was no question about that. This was theirs, their… Their attempt to enjoy even something about this.

Megatron moved next to them instead of being mostly behind Sideswipe. A click had the both of them glancing at the tyrant, all to see his spike cover retract and his spike pressurizing already, readily. “Use your servo to pleasure me. Don’t stop kissing,” came the orders, tersely.

What was this? Putting on a show for Megatron’s benefit, while simultaneously pleasuring him?

When they didn’t move fast enough, Megatron reached for Sunstreaker’s valve cover and ripped that clean off too. His brother jerked from the pain, but didn’t voice it any more than Sideswipe had—but before Megatron had the time to do more than that, Sunstreaker had pulled him back against him, landing a kiss on his cheek before Sideswipe had the sense to turn his helm to face him.

And it was Sunstreaker’s servo that reached for Megatron’s spike and began to pump his servo along it.

Sunstreaker was shaking, but Sideswipe could feel his determination to keep Sideswipe safe. If that meant indignity, if it meant pleasuring their rapist… So be it.

As long as Sideswipe remained safe.

It was a sentiment that had the red twin crying in no time. Look at what they had been reduced to. Doing something that they’d always loved, but now involuntarily, left without choice, while pleasing the damn mech that had torn them from their humble but happy enough life, only to bring them here to endure things they hadn’t imagined even in their worst nightmares.

They weren’t ready for this, nothing in their life had prepared them for this—nothing could have prepared them for this. The cruelty, the immorality were on another level entirely.

It was too much, and yet they couldn’t but bear it.

Sunstreaker’s servo jerked Megatron to completion, the tyrant’s transfluid splattering onto his brother’s arm, on Megatron’s plating. “Lick that off, Sunstreaker,” he said, and the brothers parted ways to both stare at Megatron. Sunstreaker was shivering, Sideswipe’s armor was rattling—and they didn’t move fast enough, Megatron again jabbing his claws into Sideswipe’s valve.

This time he cried out.

That was enough to prompt Sunstreaker into action and he lowered himself onto the berth, in a position of true subservience neither of them could have ever wanted, and did as he was told. He cleaned, with his glossa, all of the transfluid that had landed on the tyrant’s plating, and all of what had remained on the tip of his spike and run down the length. Megatron’s digits left Sideswipe’s valve and he was rumbling, approving—and approving meant not physical pain.

Only pain of a spark forced into something it never wanted to do, never wanted to be. But they were stuck. They were so, so stuck in all of this, their way out still unclear. They would find it eventually, he just… He hoped it would be soon enough.

Megatron tapped Sunstreaker’s chin once he was satisfied with his brother’s work, and Sunstreaker eagerly pulled away.

Then it was Sideswipe who got the next set of instructions. “Lay on your back and spread your legs.”

He didn’t like where this was going, but under the gazes of both Megatron and Sunstreaker he nevertheless leaned back until he was laying down entirely, and let his legs fall apart, putting his coverless valve in perfect display.

If only Megatron had chosen to spike him then. That would have been familiar, that he could’ve… He could’ve handled that.

But instead Megatron’s optics moved to Sunstreaker. “Fist him.”

“What?!” they asked in unison, and Sideswipe shot back into a sitting position.

“You can’t be serious,” Sunstreaker continued, their disbelief quickly giving way to dry horror. They didn’t want to ‘face each other to begin with, not in any way, and… Frag, not in that way either. And Sideswipe didn’t particularly fancy finding out what getting fisted felt like in the first place. He hadn’t even entertained the thought before, no matter how much he had enjoyed interfacing.

But here they were.

“Oh, I’m very serious,” Megatron responded to Sunstreaker, and his voice left little doubt of that. But… Slaggit, better Sunstreaker than Megatron. Megatron’s servos were as large as the rest of him. That would’ve… He wasn’t sure his frame could’ve taken that in any shape or form.

But Sunstreaker… Sideswipe met his gaze. Sunstreaker’s face twisted with emotion as he tried to think of some way to avoid this, some way to spare them both this… He came out empty.

“Now,” Megatron said, without inflection, but there was threat in that one word all the same. What would he do if they didn’t? How would he hurt them? “On your back, Sideswipe.”

He fell back even more reluctantly than before, but Sunstreaker couldn’t will himself into motion.

Couldn’t, before Megatron gave him some more incentive. “Do it, or I will.”

He could probably survive Megatron’s servo if it came down to it. He didn’t think he’d die, but the amount of damage it would have caused…

The amount of pain.

It didn’t need to come down to it. Sunstreaker grit his denta, but moved between his spread legs and grudgingly, unwillingly, brought his servo to Sideswipe’s valve.

The sooner they were done with this, the sooner… They could move to whatever else Megatron had planned for them. And the sooner they got to all that, the sooner they would get out of here.

Even so, Sunstreaker wasn’t about to hurt Sideswipe if it could be avoided. He pushed two of his digits into Sideswipe’s valve at first, adding a third when he found it looser than he’d expected—but after, he sought out sensors, and not to scratch them, but to stimulate them, in the good kind of way. Pleasant way.

As much as Sideswipe didn’t want this, he wasn’t opposed to the slow start, the little act to make some lubricant gather in his valve. And, surprisingly, Megatron gave them the time to do that, watching, stroking his spike languidly, but not rushing them.

Sideswipe tried to relax, let his legs fall apart a bit further, tried to force away some of the tension in his frame, because that would only translate into tension in his calipers, and if… If he was supposed to take Sunstreaker’s whole damn fist, it would be best if he was relaxed. He hoped that would lead to the least possible amount of pain—and damage, if his calipers tried to stay in the way stubbornly.

Sunstreaker didn’t want to hurt him, but this might hurt anyway, no matter what they did. Best they could was try to reduce the chances of that.

To that end, Sunstreaker played with his valve until there was a decent amount of lubricant in place. Then his brother cycled one deep ventilation and added a fourth digit to very little resistance from Sideswipe’s calipers.

And that was maybe the worst part, how… Easy it turned out to be. It shouldn’t have been. Taking a whole damn servo up his valve was meant to be a struggle.

But with how large Megatron’s spike alone was, and how many times he’d gotten hammered by it already, Sunstreaker could easily slip four of his digits into his valve, and when pulled out, pushed in, pulled back, tucked his thumb against his other digits and pushed again… There was some resistance as the widest part cleared his rim, but it was still too easy. It stung, but it wasn’t outright pain. There was enough lubricant to ease the passage.

And his valve had just gotten forced too far out of shape by Megatron. Sunstreaker slipped his entire servo in, up to his wrist, and felt Sideswipe’s valve flutter and clench against the intrusion, unused to the strange shape.

Tears fell from Sideswipe’s optics and he stared resolutely at the ceiling. He didn’t need and didn’t want any of the reminders of how they were being reforged to their new role in life.

“Overload him,” Megatron said once they’d gotten to that stage. He didn’t need to specify that Sunstreaker was to overload him with his servo, like this, because that really was obvious enough.

It shouldn’t even be too difficult. It didn’t hurt, so… What else was there to feel but pleasure? Sunstreaker was slow and careful, mindful when he began to move his servo in and out, and with every pass it became easier and the resistance of his rim lesser. He made sure to brush against sensors, and it felt good. Strange, because it wasn’t a spike and didn’t have the shape of one, but pits, it wasn’t bad.

He didn’t want that. Primus, but he wished he would have hated it because it was Megatron that had ordered this. He wanted to hate everything even remotely related to the mech.

But instead his hips started to push into the thrusts of Sunstreaker’s servo and he had to bite back his moans. Sunstreaker didn’t slow down either, once it was sure he wasn’t hurting him, even by accident. The sooner they were done with this…

The better. And he was quickly, very quickly, driven towards an overload with Sunstreaker’s intent but gentle touch. He didn’t try to fight it. As much as he didn’t want the pleasure, he wanted this just over with.

It wasn’t his best overload ever, but it was far from being the worst, either. Sideswipe stiffened as he was pushed over that edge with one more entry of his twin’s servo, his valve clamping down until Sunstreaker had little hope of pulling back. Sideswipe moaned despite his attempt to keep silent–

Then there was a surprised gasp, from Sunstreaker.

Megatron had shoved his entire length up his brother’s empty valve without warning and that, that hurt. There was no lubricant to speak of, he hadn’t been prepared for it in any way…

But they still felt the sorrow over the fact it didn’t hurt as much as it once had.

Sunstreaker removed his servo once Sideswipe’s valve relaxed enough, and Megatron chose that moment to start moving in and out of his frame at a leisurely pace. “Sideswipe,” he said, and the twin tore his optics from the ceiling to glance down at him. “Get under your brother. On your back, helm to me.”

Now what? But Sideswipe moved regardless, turning around and sliding under Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker made the room for him, ending up straddling his shoulders, his servos propping him up on either side of Sideswipe’s hips.

They didn’t have to wonder what this was about for long. Megatron continued to rock into Sunstreaker, not so hard it would’ve been unbearable—nothing like he had earlier in the day—but it was far from comfortable either, no matter the lubricant that was slowly starting to gather in Sunstreaker’s valve–

Then, “Lick my spike, Sideswipe.”

...He was in the perfect position to do that, with Megatron’s spike disappearing into Sunstreaker’s valve right above his face.

He didn’t really want to, though. Pits, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to pleasure Megatron, and he didn’t want to be this close to Sunstreaker’s equipment either.

And he sure as pit didn’t want a front row seat to Megatron fragging Sunstreaker.

He hesitated for too long. “Lick mine or your brother will suck yours.”

Sunstreaker flinched at the thought, and at a thrust that jabbed into one of the recent welds of his. Megatron knew as well as they did how despicable the thought of doing that was to Sunstreaker, and… Sideswipe couldn’t put him through it.

Not again.

Sunstreaker did his best to keep him safe. He could return the favor. Sideswipe lifted his helm enough that his nasal ridge nearly brushed against Megatron’s groin and extended his glossa, letting it rubbed against the underside of Megatron’s spike on every pull out, every push back in. When Megatron’s engine rumbled a displeased note, he applied more pressure, moved his glossa a little more, put in a bit more effort just so nothing would happen to Sunstreaker—and that earned him a rev from the tyrant.

Good enough, it said.

He kept it up even as Megatron’s pace increased as he neared an overload, and… When he overloaded, he pulled out entirely, his come splashing on the outside of Sunstreaker’s valve and dripping onto Sideswipe’s face.

He hoped it was over at that, but it wasn’t. “Open your mouth,” Megatron said, and there wasn’t much question about who he was talking to.

And not too much question over why the order was given, either.

He didn’t want it, so Sideswipe shook his helm in denial. His quiet no, never spoken out loud.

It went completely ignored. Megatron shoved Sunstreaker off of him, his brother landing onto his side on the berth beside him, and then one of the tyrant’s servos came down, yanking his jaw open. Before Sideswipe could do more than squeak in surprise, Megatron had already aimed and thrust his spike into his mouth, down his throat.

Sideswipe’s wail was muffled even before the intrusion constricted his vocalizer into silence. It hurt. His valve might’ve gotten a little more used to things; his mouth, not so much. And Megatron didn’t go easy, he didn’t take his time, didn’t wait for him to adjust in any way before he was moving in and out of this throat too fast.

Sunstreaker moved to do… Something, anything, but Megatron merely backhanded him hard enough that his brother collapsed back onto the berth. Tears streamed from Sideswipe’s optics, not just over the treatment his frame was suffering, but also over the treatment Sunstreaker received, and the… Helplessness. There hadn’t been and there still wasn’t anything they had done that would have worked against Megatron. Megatron only got his way, every time. He got his pleasure as it suited him, he made them hurt just as he wanted to.

And they were powerless in the face of it all.

Bear it. Sideswipe tried, even as his frame arched off the berth, fighting with himself to not let every entry down his throat get to him... And he only succeeded because Megatron chased his completion fast, and reached it quickly. Before Sideswipe lost the battle with himself.

Before he would have expelled everything in his tanks like he already had too many times before in the past orns. Instead there was a spurt of transfluid that headed for his tanks instead of out of them, although Megatron pulled out before he’d finished coming, and most of the transfluid his spike was pumping out landed on Sideswipe’s face to join what there already was.

But… Nothing more came after that. Megatron left them laying there, used and abused while he moved to the edge of the berth and wiped himself clean in swift motions. “Return to the harem,” he instructed them, and then… Left, without a backwards glance, and despite the late hour.

Then they were alone, in Megatron’s berthroom, except this time they were together.

Sideswipe rolled onto his front, got on his knees, reached for Sunstreaker. His brother was dazed, dented, and he wasn’t sure about the continued integrity of some of his welds, but he was mostly fine. Physically, anyway.

In every other way… Sideswipe tried not to think about it. Not before they got the pit out of here, anyway. “Come on,” he said quietly, tugging and pulling until he had Sunstreaker to the edge of the berth and they both dropped down to the floor, then out the berthroom, through the lounge, into the hallway, and to the doors that opened to them for once. Skywarp was waiting on the other side, waving at them in greeting.

“Hope that went well. Do you need to see Knock Out?” he asked, giving each of them a once over, his gaze lingering on the side of Sunstreaker’s helm.

“Would probably be best to, just to be safe,” Sideswipe answered quietly, glancing at Sunstreaker. There probably wasn’t anything too dangerous going on, but it’d be nice to have a confirmation of that.

Skywarp nodded at that before he turned to lead the way back to the harem wing, the twins trailing behind him

“This is progress,” Knock Out noted on their injuries once he’d had a look at them. “So minor! My, if only you gave me this little to work on more often.” Sunstreaker growled at the suggestion behind the words, and Sideswipe couldn’t say he appreciated them a hell of a lot either. Do as they were told, please Megatron, and they wouldn’t get slagged every damn time.

“Wouldn’t you be out of a job if we did?” Sideswipe asked just a little sharply. Hadn’t Knock Out said that earlier?

...How much earlier was it? Pits, it was hard to keep track of time. It felt like an eternity with so much happening, but it couldn’t have been that long.

“True, that,” the medic conceded.

They were sent on their way once everything was back in order and they’d had a cursory cleaning. It was late, so the berthroom became their destination and they crept past the cots, many of them already occupied by recharging mecha. Some of the mates were still awake, and they got a few waves of greeting that Sideswipe returned before they made it to the very back of the room.

In mutual understanding they laid down on their joined cots, Sunstreaker onto his back, and Sideswipe stretching up along his side, pressing the side of his helm to Sunstreaker’s shoulder and letting the sounds and vibrations of his brother’s frame surround him.

That had been one of their most pathetic showings with Megatron. They’d barely even resisted, but… Primus, it was getting hard to keep up the will to fight, knowing it was futile, that Megatron was inevitable in everything he did… And knowing they’d get hurt, one way or another, every time they didn’t do as they were told. Not always physically, but the emotional hurt could be just as potent, if not more so.

And Megatron had apparently never even heard the word “mercy”. He had none to give in any damn situation.

But if they did as they were told… It wasn’t tolerable, it would never be fucking tolerable, but it wasn’t as bad. Was that the best they could hope for in this situation? Not as bad?

It felt like that.

They were going to get out eventually, it was just a matter of time until they found the way, but until then… Would it be worth it to not earn themselves as much pain? Go a little easier on themselves?

Even if it meant… Even if it meant pleasing Megatron.

But it was only temporary. This was only temporary. They’d have the last laugh still, when they walked out of here, ran away. Back to the freedom they deserved. The other mates, they might’ve been so brainwashed they were fine with this, but him and Sunstreaker would never be. He didn’t understand how the others had ever gotten used to all of this, how they’d grown so desensitized to it, but it was easy to count on himself to never gain that understanding.

This was just… Too fragging awful to ever get used to.

Not forever. They wouldn’t be here forever.

They just had to stay strong and rely on each other until they found their way out of this fucking hellhole.

Easy, right?

They could do it.

-------------------------------------------------------

There were a few quiet days again, time to rest and recuperate and… Try to put everything behind them for a while, even if they knew it would come back to haunt them still, somewhere in the not too distant future.

Three days later, it did.

They were in the entertainment room again, Sunstreaker drawing and letting the curious gawk his work over his shoulders, Sideswipe playing some manner of shooter game with Runamuck and Runabout.

They really loved their shooter games. Sideswipe’s argument was that you couldn’t beat virtual violence. It was a good way to work out their frustrations too, in a very bloody manner.

Those games were too damn realistic for anyone’s good, the next thing he knew his brother would be a trained soldier. Great entertainment, though.

The peace of it was broken when there was the faint sound of the main doors opening and closing coming down the hall, followed by unmistakable pedesteps. Starscream left the entertainment room to greet their mate even as the twins’ fuel pumps froze.

They hoped, ardently, that Megatron was here for someone else, that he just wanted to disappear into the room at the very end of the hallway with someone that wasn’t them. The chances would’ve been good for something like that, right?

But they weren’t so lucky. Megatron walked to the entertainment room’s door, had a look around, confirmed they were both present, and called them both by name.

Just so there was no question or misunderstanding of who he wanted.

Like last time, Megatron sat down on one of the couches where everyone could see him.

Then came the order. “Come here.”

Sideswipe swallowed hard, clutched onto Sunstreaker through their spark, but… Disconnected from the game he had busied himself with and slowly walked over to the tyrant. Sunstreaker set down his drawing tablet, cycled several steadying ventilations, and followed Sideswipe—holding just as tight onto him as he was being held onto, even if not physically.

Moment of truth, wasn’t it? They had displeased Megatron last time. What about this time?

Starscream was standing in the doorway, wings spread, arms crossed, watching it all sharply. The other mates didn’t have the same scrutiny about them, but they were all watching, all as eager for Megatron’s attention as ever, and… Curious. Over how this would go, most likely. Last time hadn’t been so great, not to be on the receiving end of, and probably not so fun to witness either.

It was in their hands how this time would go. What would Megatron ask of them?

They came to stand in front of him, Sunstreaker meeting his burning gaze, Sideswipe staring at his pedes. Their spark was spinning wildly no matter how Sunstreaker tried to calm it, but he couldn’t exactly deny his own distaste and nervousness of the situation. How bad would Megatron make this?

“Sideswipe,” Megatron said, patting the space next to him. Sideswipe hesitated for a few precious seconds, but the moment Megatron’s optics began to narrow, he hurried over and sat on the couch next to the tyrant, stiff as they came.

Next, “Coax it out.”

Sideswipe started crying on the spot. Not out loud, he made no sound, but tears began to run down his cheeks. “How?” he asked for clarity’s sake despite that, even with the risk of Megatron taking it as too much dallying.

He didn’t. “As you see fit,” was the answer he gave. Sideswipe nodded silently and reached over Megatron’s thigh to press his servo to his codpiece. More tolerable than using his mouth, and easier with the angle he was in, unless he wanted to get between Megatron’s thighs. But that wasn’t where he’d been told to go, and he wondered why–

–Up until Megatron addressed Sunstreaker. “Prepare your brother for me. Take Topspin’s cue.”

Using his mouth, in other words. And then… Sideswipe would get to take Megatron’s spike.

Their spark fluttered with utter desperation, but there was no way out of this, was there? They could refuse, like they had last time, and then Megatron would hurt them all over again… Likely find even worse ways to do so, either in public, or in private.

Or they could just do this, get it over with, and not suffer through any of that.

Indignity and crushed pride, or defiance at the price of pain and suffering.

Sunstreaker’s next exvent shuddered, but under the optics of what felt like absolutely everyone, he got on the couch behind his brother. Sideswipe was shaking, as much as he didn’t forget to stroke Megatron’s spike cover just to keep him satisfied… But he lifted his hips for Sunstreaker and retracted his valve cover.

It was just Sunstreaker. No one else.

They could do this. It was better than the alternatives.

Sunstreaker knelt there, between Sideswipe’s legs, and brought his mouth to Sideswipe’s valve. He hadn’t done this often—had he ever?—but he relied on Sideswipe’s memories and his sensation to guide him as he slipped his glossa into the opening that felt like it was perpetually gaping now, and hunted for sensors the same way Topspin had. He didn’t have the experience, but feeling what Sideswipe felt… He found his way, and slowly but steadily lubricant began to gather in his brother’s valve.

He would be as prepared for Megatron as Sunstreaker could make him, if that would just ease the second part of this even some.

But it wasn’t just him. Sideswipe was shuddering, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted from his task of getting Megatron’s spike out. He’d gotten the cover to open for him with enough teasing of its seams. Part of the tip had revealed itself too, by now, and he worked it in his servo diligently, in all the ways that had… Pleased his past partners.

The partners he’d had in the life he would still get back to, one way or another.

This was just another step on the road to that end. He worked the spike until it had reached halfway out of its housing, at which point Megatron told him to get his mouth in there. That was… Actually sort of doable now with enough of the spike out in the open, even though he had to lean over Megatron’s thigh to do so.

But he did, even as his hips began to move on their own, hitching back against Sunstreaker’s glossa, his mouth—as Sideswipe took the tip of Megatron’s spike into his own, as he licked along the length of it, still worked his servo around it…

Until it reached full pressurization. “Enough. Get on your back,” Megatron said at that point, and Sideswipe pulled away to force himself to lay down on the couch, even knowing what was coming.

He was crying, he was terrified. Did he have any good reason to be? But Megatron was… He was evil, just plain evil. What he could do if he thought he was given a reason…

He’d have bad memory purges of that for the rest of his life. Wasn’t it reasonable enough to fear him?

But he laid down and let his legs be spread when Megatron’s servos landed on his thighs. One of the tyrant’s pedes went to the floor again, like he’d done with Sunstreaker, and would he do it again? Destroy his internals because he could, despite them doing as he wanted?

He didn’t. Megatron’s spike pushed into his valve, surprisingly slowly. There was some stretch, his calipers forced apart by the massive length, but there was also plenty of lubricant.

It could’ve been… A lot worse.

Even when Megatron started to move, his pace wasn’t hurried in the slightest, and it didn’t start hurting—wouldn’t stop feeling good.

Was that better than pain, though?

“Sunstreaker.” The golden twin looked up from his trance of watching Megatron’s spike disappear into Sideswipe’s frame time and time again. “Straddle his chest.”

He did, carefully climbing on top of Sideswipe.

What then? “Get his spike out and pressurized.”

Sunstreaker looked down at the closed cover, but Sideswipe opened that one for him too. His spike pressurized partially on its own, because it wasn’t as if his frame wasn’t responding to Megatron’s use of his valve—that had, once upon a time, not too long ago, inherently hurt because of their sheer difference in size.

Not so anymore.

...Not so anymore.

Sunstreaker wrapped his servo around the emerging spike and tried very hard not to think about how much he didn’t want to be touching Sideswipe’s equipment. Instead… Focus on the task at hand. Stroke, brush his thumb over the tip, make Sideswipe feel good no matter how neither of them wanted to be in this situation.

He wasn’t left alone to it for long before one of Megatron’s servos came up, a digit hooking under his chin and tilting his helm up. He knew what was coming even before Megatron’s lips descended on his, glossa pushing into his mouth—taking his enjoyment from it just as he was taking it from Sideswipe’s frame.

Sunstreaker’s touch faltered on his brother. Megatron noticed; there was a growl of warning that had him focusing back on what he was doing, and… Not on what was being done to him.

Megatron picked up his pace until Sideswipe was groaning despite his attempts to stay quiet, but pleasure was building in his frame under the use of his valve and the touch on his spike. He was moving restlessly under Sunstreaker, hips tilting into Megatron’s thrusts and jerking up into Sunstreaker’s servo, up until he bucked with a strangled sound and came, spike and valve both. His transfluid landed on Sunstreaker’s servo, some of it onto his chassis, and there was no doubt in Sunstreaker’s mind that Megatron let himself be pulled into an overload by the clenching of Sideswipe’s valve, instead of being pushed into it involuntarily.

He painted the inside of Sideswipe’s valve with his own transfluid and bit down on Sunstreaker’s lip, but then… Then there was nothing but a possessive parting peck on Sunstreaker’s mouth before the tyrant pulled away, pulled out, stood up.

Tucked his spike behind its panel and left.

Sideswipe started sobbing the moment he was out of sight, a mess of transfluid and lubricant slowly leaking from his valve and his spike quickly depressurizing back into its housing. There were revving engines all around them, their brethren turned on by the show they’d received—and humiliation burned. Maybe it shouldn’t have. Hadn’t they already interfaced with this lot? Hadn’t all of them already seen them losing control of their own damn frames during the orgies?

But this was different. This wasn’t a signal turning them aroused beyond belief, and this wasn’t them forced into something.

This was them voluntarily giving Megatron what he wanted, voluntarily doing as they were told.

This was them giving up their fight in the sight of everyone else. It wasn’t them losing the fight in Megatron’s wing, out of sight.

It was them surrendering in public.

Sunstreaker glanced up when a shadow fell over them. Starscream met his gaze. “Welcome to the harem.”

( Next )

#transformers #maccadams #megatron #sideswipe #sunstreaker #starscream #skywarp #twin twist #topspin #megasun #megaswipe #megatwins #fic #2020 #harem au

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