#megtrns

[megtrns]

how to take care of your human 101 : a psa brought to you by the lost light crew. first contact au. sfw! with slight mentions of nudity.

a/n : to preface this, it was seven am in the morning and i was supposed to catch a train in about an hour or so to go out of town alone for an errand. but as i was putting on my skincare, i began to feel so overwhelmed that i started crawling back under the covers mid-makeup. and for the first time in what i think is forever, i woke up at noon, disoriented with powder smudging my pillows. and there was just a different kind of misery to look down at my phone to realise that not only did i miss my train, but half the day was gone. but then my flatmate came and told me i put too much pressure on myself, and suddenly it clicked on me. it's always a reality check when someone you care about tells you to your face that you've been pushing yourself too hard. this made me wonder how the bots would intervene when it was obvious that their human needed a mental health break.

ratchet suspiciously eying the young medic drifting down the halls of the sickbay like a wayward ghost: with sunken eyes and sluggish movements, running on what he assumed was a quarter of your designated sleep cycle. the last straw was when he caught you asleep at a broom closet, waking up in a panic and apologizing as if it wasn't his fault for assigning you the same shifts as the others, all of whom were part of a non-organic species that could run on an empty tank for months if needed.

feeling guilty, the cmo offered to send you home. you were stubbornly resisting until he said something along the lines of 'paid leave.' that was enough to send you skipping into the parking lot so you could nosedive into your bed. when you returned after the weekend, with a pep in your step and a smile across your face, first aid had wondered aloud that he didn't know humans could glow.

minimus would take it upon himself to run you a bath, lowering himself into the bathtub so your back could rest against his chassis, knees bent and legs intertwined with his. the water is warm and welcoming, sloshing onto the tiled floor as he adjusts himself to hug you from behind. here, in the blissful silence, the bathroom was wet with steam; the precipitation clinging onto the glass of his optics, creating a lazy, unhurried atmosphere that lulled him to the edge of recharge. he listens to the sound of your breathing, slow and calm as you doze off. and he would smile fondly at the sight of your resting, knowing that this was much needed for the both of you.

rodimus, mass displaced and laughing, standing under the pouring water of your shower. he makes the stall feel crowded, but you don't mind, dangling both arms around his neck as the captain washes your hair — skin to metal, hip to hip. he said something about how he loves the smell of flowers in your hair, servos firm yet gentle as they cradle your head. he wiped the soap dripping down your brow, peppering kisses all over your face to keep you awake. but you were drowning in bliss, content and lazy, thankful for his help and enthusiasm during the days when you couldn't even take care of yourself.

drift cleverly working his servos across your shoulders, down the curve of your neck to the base of your spine. already you can feel the muscles loosening, the strain from sitting too long, melting away under his ministrations. you were also in awe at how much control he wielded, precise and careful, never once hurting you with too much force. it was hard to believe that these were the same set of servos that struck fear into the sparks of so many mechs. as he presses a soft kiss in the square of your back, you can only sigh in delight against the pillow — putty in his arms and already drifting to a dreamless sleep.

ambulon would blearily open his optics to the yellow glow of the bathroom light pouring into the peaceful darkness of the room, recharge interrupted by soft noises. he slowly peels the soft blankets away from his frame to creep to the sound of your movements, the sight of you dressing before the sun has barely risen, tugging at his sparkstrings. he is aware humans need at least eight to nine hours of rest, and yet with less than six, his lover is already by the bathroom mirror repeating the same, tiring routine every week. one might think that his past as a decepticon and medic working in the lost light would make him a senseless partner, but it was quite the opposite, ambulon would give you the world if you asked. but maybe the closest thing you need now is a day to yourself.

so when you come home that day to the apartment spotless, the smell of fresh linen in the air and the sound of something delicious sizzling atop the pan; you can't help but cry by the doorway, your boyfriend nearly dropping the glass of high-grade he was casually sipping to rush to hug you — "are these happy, human tears? oh, okay, that's good. that's good."

swerve discovering that your birthday is coming up but you have no plans to celebrate it, too busy and too tired from the long weekday. the minibot wasn't too happy about this, deciding that he was going to fix it before the special date rolls around. this is how you find yourself walking into a surprise party, with candles and cakes and decorations dangling from the ceiling. you had screamed in delight at the sound of the confetti going off, immediately throwing yourself in the arms of your friend, rounds of laughter echoing in the room where all your giant friends have gathered to celebrate your coming into existence.

whirl noticing how the days you spend together have grown shorter and shorter each passing day, with you either rushing off to finish a deadline or already dressed to eat dinner with your new co-workers. the ex-wrecker insists he isn't jealous, no, of course not — he just hates sitting by the couch watching the clock tick away, unable to focus on his earth shows because you were always coming home so late.

so when whirl stopped you from putting your shoes on one morning to tell you that he had called your workplace to say you needed some time to yourself, you were struck by his thoughtfulness; feeling guilty that you never considered that whirl could do something so sweet. until you switch on the tv to hear the news anchor announce that the police needed help to identify an anonymous caller who had sent a bomb threat earlier this morning to your office. he says it was obvious that he wasn't going to do it — "what? i thought you needed the day off, sweetspark? it worked didn't it?"

you didn't know whether to be flattered or to call prowl and the local precinct that the search was over.

[wifetomegatron]

06 December, 2024 🍸

hi everyone, let me know what you'd like to see me write about !

i'm open to suggestions or requests in my @megtrns inbox because my ideas are all jumbled up at the moment so I'd love to hear what people would want to see from my writing. i don't know if i still have that same touch though, but feel free to drop in !

don't be a stranger :)

[princess-of-the-corner]

fun fact, animated megatron did the one thing no other megtrn has done before at the tiem

kill starscream

and kill him again

and again

and again

and again

and ag- yeah starscream kept coming back

Oh my god they killed Kenny Starscream! You bastards!

[reclusiveformerwarlord]

And he isn’t recognized.  It hurts, but at least Smokescreen is not recoiling from him.�� He does not attempt to hold the racer’s servo, knowing how little fine control he has over the crude pincers, but he does lean on Smokey, gently nudging his helm against the Autobot’s.  He wanted so badly to tell him, to speak!

But vocal communication is cut off...  He follows, daring to wrap an arm around Smokey, and flicks his field out a bit, pulsing gratitude.  Maybe a medic could repair some of this damage.  Maybe he’d be able to speak again, somehow. 

It requires painstaking effort, but he types his name on the datapad, and offers it to the racer.

it s Megtrn 

A message, filled with typing errors, arrives on Smokey's datapad. A plea for help, and a series of coordinates. At least the coordinates are free of errors. There is no ident attached, however.

Oh. Oh, slag. That is never a good sign, is it?

Smokescreen takes only a moment to arrive, bringing along the phase shifter, energon, and a medical kit, looking for the source of the emergency message, with some amount of caution. The war is over, but it could still be a trap, couldn't it...?

[megtrns]

drabbles. snippets of life with the mtmte crew. first contact au. ft. swerve, prowl, fortress maximus, whirl. (nsfw!) (mdni!) gender neutral but dresses are mentioned.

It's so hard not to romanticise living together with these bots. The thought of humans and cybertronian co-existing peacefully is not enough, I need them to indulge in one another's company.

Going to a jazz bar with Swerve where the lights are colourful and alive, with an ocean of people conversing the night away underneath a backdrop of live music. You were struggling to hear one another past the noise, but none of you were complaining, just laughing and sitting by the bar shoulder-to-shoulder. You didn't miss the way his optics dart around nervously when you adjust the thin strap slipping down your shoulder, knees dangerously close as they peek out of the slit of your dress.

Stepping out of the taxi to escape traffic and make it to work on time, only to end up getting nearly run over by a cop car in the process. You had cussed at the tinted windows before narrowly escaping the morning chaos that always unfurls downtown during Mondays. Only to arrive on your first day on the job, sweaty and late anyway, to your cybertronian boss who coincidentally has the same plate number as the mustang that you had yelled at this morning. Let's just say you were on toilet duty for months, and even after, Prowl never let you live that one down.

Being neighbors with the quiet and somewhat intimidating autobot that just moved in next door and feeling excited to introduce yourself. From the bits and pieces of conversations you've caught in the hallway (and not because you've been eavesdropping), you've deducted that Fortress Maximus works with the police precinct. Wanting to make a first good impression, you knocked at his door with a bouquet of flowers and an invitation for dinner — obviously because you wanted to be friendly and not because you found him a teensy bit attractive. It's too bad that you're never showing your face to him again after he gave you the heads up that the walls are very thin and that he could hear you sing in the shower every morning. (You missed the part where he meant it as a compliment).

Telling your best friends that you may have had a little bit too much to drink at your annual corporate party and might have slept with someone from the firm you work in. All you knew was that it was the first time you'd indulged in a one-night stand, and not only was it the best sex you've ever had, but it was also definitely with one of your cybertronian colleagues. Too bad the broom closet was dark and you were so thoroughly fucked (in the best way, or rather, every way) that you didn't remember to ask for their name. When none of your co-workers wanted to fess up, you were starting to get worried that you'd dreamt the whole thing up — Oh no, the best sex in your life thus far and you've dreamt it all up! The good news is that it was real, you did sleep with a cybertronian. The bad news is that you had slept with Whirl, the mech you regularly get into arguments with because of his despicable attitude. Now you can't even look at him in the optics while he's practially preening and ready to gloat. At least now you know his shameless bragging about finding humans repulsive is nothing but lies ( you have the lovemarks on your hips to prove it.)

[megtrns]

hello! i saw requests were open. :>

i feel like you would write for tf! one sentinel very well. pretty blue bastard, always draped in gold but - he does show the capability to be knocked down a peg.

a human, prized by the quintessons as "incentive".. they end up being a bit too entertaining and bring a fake prime to his knees instead.

a/n : hi robolvrr, thank you for being my first request ! thanks for putting your faith in me , i hope i won't let you down with this <3

shades of blue and shame. sentinel (tf one)/reader. (nsfw!)(mdni!)

as much as you hate to admit it, blue is a nice look on sentinel — electric cobalt accentuated by the streaks of fluorescent gold.

he paints himself like a king, all flashy and bright. which makes him more annoying to you, someone who knows the truth beneath his tower of lies. if the quintessons hadn’t been so kind to you, showering you with riches and keeping you happy, you wouldn’t have agreed to negotiating with him. it speaks volumes on how irritating sentinel was, for the quintessons had passed him on to you, a human initially abducted to better facilitate mediation between them and organic races. and this was the first time you had actually to put in the work, considering that most of the time, the quintessons don’t try to bargain before conquering entire planets.

you had no previous interest in cybertronians. you've seen plenty of impressive alien races in your line of work, the ability to transform and stand sixty feet tall shouldn't warrant even a sliver of special interest from you. but sentinel himself is a whole different conversation: conniving, shrewd, and self-serving to the point of tyranny, those who knew him behind his curated facade feared him. but while you've seen him bask in the sight of soldiers cowering at his pedes, you knew that for sentinel, nothing comes close to the feeling of being adored.

you've seen his optics and how they gleam under the sun as he steps out of his balcony to greet his naive citizens, chassis puffed out and preening as they worship him.

often you wonder how his people would react to seeing him for who he is: this cruel, deceitful pretender full of dirty little secrets. and considering that you've become one of those secrets, it gave you a sense of thrill to know that you could easily expose him: if not for a false saviour, for the mech he becomes when he's under you.

once you've discovered just how pliable the mech is under your touch, what started as a seductive technique to secure more energon for the hive turned into a weapon. you had your suspicions, from how you'd catch him staring at your cleavage (because he thought you were too busy reading the documents in your hand) to the subtle twitch of his fingers every time you furiously curse him.

before you would always have to go the extra mile to chase him down the hallways to yell your threats at him, these days you have the titan mass displaced and writhing beneath you, mouth gagged with the tie you always make an effort to wear for 'work'. with both thighs around his waist, knees pressed against the metal berth so that your cunt remains suspended over his weeping spike, you glide two fingers past the seam of his metal plating to stroke his neck cables: once, twice. he shudders at the contact, optics fluttering shut as his hips impatiently bucked upwards. but you pulled away, dragging a needy cry out of his vocal box.

" we had a deal, sentinel," you warned, ignoring how he jerked at the feel of your fingers gliding down his midsection. " haven't i been nice to you? since you didn't keep up your end of the bargain, maybe i should just leave you like this?"

he let out a sharp whine in protest.

maybe sentinel was also your dirty little secret, because as pathetic as you find the mech, you find your heart racing whenever he eagerly gets on his knees.

sentinel was never meant to rule, he was forged to serve : eager and subservient, all ready for you. his arrogance long forgotten, buried next to his pride.

and truly, there was a certain kind of thrill seeing him like this: eagle-spread with servos chained up to the wall, arms pulled up to either side of his helm, sleek, metal legs quivering against your skin.

you think blue is a nice look on sentinel, but maybe not as nice as desperation.

[megtrns]

nsfw! drabbles based on lyrics from my spotify wrapped, 2024 (afab!reader) (minors dni!) ft. mtmte megatron, fortress maximus, tarn

open your hands// take a glass

In the beginning, he blamed his hunger on the fool’s energon. Having been tampered with, the chemo-sedatives were never meant to fulfill him. The rations were meant to keep him in line, and if the constant, dull, pang of hunger was a side effect, then Megatron’s put up with worse. 

Until he sees you underneath him, back arched and body flushed against his frame: skin to metal, chest to chassis.

He has never felt this starved in millenniums. 

You made a breathless, begging sound, fingers trembling against his shoulders as if attempting to squeeze — nails barely denting the surface of his armor. For a fraction of a second, his appetite was sated, curbed by the sight of your bodies intertwined against the sheets. But with the air growing taut and heavy, he suddenly finds himself acting out of blind desire, seized by a new kind of want. 

Dentae licking the column of your neck, he ignores the strain in his wires from being mass displaced for so long, choosing to taste you on his tongue instead.

He tastes the sea and hears you moan, ecstasy gripping his spark. Holding your body with a new kind of vigor, Megatron stared down at you as if he was a desert on the brink of drought. And he knew that for him, you would be his river, endless and giving, already spreading your legs to pull him closer to drink.

2. I must be dreaming // they don’t hear me 

The vastness of space had always made the Lost Light eerily quiet. Well, maybe that was courtesy to the absence of Rodimus and Co, who are currently indulging in the bars of Hedonia and have left the ship in the hands of bots who have no interest in going anywhere near the hab-suite of the mech who had taken Rung hostage and threatened to kill everyone else. So now, in the privacy of his room, you could only hear your breathing mixing with the faint, mechanical whirring of Fort Max’s cooling fans. 

Here, sprawled across his palm with the buttons of your shirt undone and everything beneath the waist removed, you braced yourself on your elbows to catch his optics. 

“ Do you still want to continue?” You whispered, afraid that anything louder would startle him away like a skittish animal. But any apprehension on your part was quickly dismissed when he nudged your knees apart with his nose, eyes red like rubies, gleaming under the silhouette. 

When he pressed his dentae flat against your cunt, heavy and warm and so wet, you were glad that the entire level was quiet. Because it meant the floor was empty, and Fort Max could indulge in the sounds you make all he wants, undisturbed and uninterrupted by the stillness of space outside.

3. If it hurts to breathe // open a window 

Tarn was never cruel to you. It sounded like a lie, but he has done nothing but treat you like you were made of glass: too precious to drop and even more inconvenient to replace. So you do your best to perform. Until the line between reality and pretence starts to blur, the same way the minutes begin to melt into months, and you find yourself no longer sure of where you stand.

Somewhere along the way, your arms are shaking, trembling under the weight of your body as it spasms in anticipation. It feels like you’ve been here for hours, thighs slick with sweat as they struggle to properly wrap themselves around Tarn’s waist.

You can see his eyes narrow in amusement behind the mask, enthralled if not obsessive, servos sure to leave marks against the right side of your hips. You had his spike halfway inside of you, and even with his mass displaced, you had a feeling this was as far you could go. But every time your body clenches down to reach its peak, he abruptly stops you, and you don’t understand what you did to warrant this kind of torture.

But then you catch him staring, unable to peel his optics away from the mess between your bodies. Tarn wants to see you like this — pleading and wet, helpless in his grip. Tarn was never cruel to you, so when you finally cave in and beg for him to give you what you want — what you need — he doesn’t hesitate to press you down the metal slab of his berth.

This time, when you pressed your face against the wiring of his neck, you didn't have to perform. All you needed to do was sing. Because there was nothing more beautiful to Tarn than the sound of you wanting.

[megtrns]

18 december, 2024 *₊˚☕୧

hi everyone ! this is an announcement for those who sent in requests in my inbox. i am still working on your asks ! i will most likely take a while with them because i want to do my best with each one, so forgive me if it's taking some time ❀˖° also, i've come to the realisation that i'm not the same author as i was a year ago. my writing style and way of storytelling has changed, and after not writing for a long time, i've been struggling to come to terms with the fact that i will have to start from scratch again. so for those who stuck around from my previous blog, thank you for putting your faith in me. and for those new here, welcome ! i hope you enjoy your stay.

also i'm still active on @wifetomegatron, it's where i reblog pretty pictures and more transformers content ! so feel free to follow if you're looking for more writings to read from talented writers in the community *ೃ༄

[megtrns]

announcement 03/12/2024 from @wifetomegatron !

hi everyone 💌 after a year long hiatus, i am back. no promises on how active i will be, however, i wanted to get back into writing because i miss it very dearly. but i also want to start fresh and give more exposure to my works without scrapping the lovely feed that i've curated so far on my @wifetomegatron blog. so i've decided to continue being active on tubmlr, but move my writing exclusively to my sideblog. if you've written a request or want to ask for one, please ask it in this new blog here. otherwise i'll continue to answer my remaining inbox as best as i can before semi-migrating ! because i will continue to reblog things on my main, but this is just to have a clear and organised set of work sorry to leave without warning and leave some of you hanging. unfortunately i am not so active on messages, but always feel free to drop in on my inbox ! masterlist will come soon :) (p.s. i've also read all the lovely comments on my inbox about my writing, thank you for the encouragement. i will do my best in contributing to the transformers fandom <3) sincerely, @wifetomegatron (now otherwise known as megtrns)

[megtrns]

megtrns, could you please write about a first contact au with a alternate time period with any of your faves? (ex: first contact au but make it regency or western? the already culture shock with human lagging behind to the bots is a bit big, but now with a slightly more rigid ideals and society is fascinating and i can’t help but think about a pride and prejudice au or medieval era bc literal knights in shining armor) of course these are just thoughts, so feel free to just write about anything, or ignore it if it’s too complicated. regardless, thank you for sharing your writing and take of yourself! have a good one!

a/n : hi anon ! so so sorry this took such a long time. the reason was because i had to go through several tries before settling with this because i absolutely adore your idea!! i've thought of something similar in the past so i got so excited doing this request and wanted to do so much that i ended up scatterbrained. so if you're okay with it, i'd love to make this into a mini series. so this shall be part one and the next ones will include a regency and/or midwestern era . again, thank you for such a lovely request ! i hope this was what you wanted and have a nice day !!

stranded time au ft. the lost light crew part one : ultra magnus & the medieval era (sfw!)

00. The theory of general relativity proposes that time doesn't pass at the same rate everywhere. With that in mind, Cybertron is an ancient and archaic planet, its galaxy a graveyard of heavy celestial masses that once existed long before the birth of our solar system. Due to strong gravitational fields, time passing through Cybertron is slower than time on Earth. And because of the war, emergency escape pods would have pre-calculated coordinates to launch their users to planets where time flows faster. So that if any Autobot or Decepticon were to survive and return, years spent in the corner of that universe would be nothing more than a few days.

This was how Rodimus & co. find themselves stranded on Earth, jumping through different timelines to save their friends. Through a very unfortunate (and avoidable) accident, the ship had collided against the planet's upper atmosphere as it attempted to land. (Because Swerve wanted to watch the concert of a human band he's obsessed with and begged Rodimus to go until his vocalizer fried.) As a result, the docking station for the escape pods were breached, followed by a leak in the quantum engine that had ignited a series of them to explode — causing a chain reaction that created 'holes' in time where the missing crew members had fallen into, leaving them scattered throughout different historical ages.

With most of the ship (thankfully) intact, Rodimus and team must race against time to bring everyone home, leaping from one century to another (and hoping that the 'time portal gun' the simpatico duo had whipped up won't explode in their faces).

01. Having been on the unfortunate side of the ship that had shattered upon impact, poor Ultra Magnus was launched all the way across Europe during its middle ages, at the height of its Capetian dynasties as it stands at the end of the crusade wars. Dropped in the heart of a dark and grim forest where not even sunlight pierced through the foliage, Magnus had stumbled into a small battle. It didn’t take long for the enforcer to realise that he had accidentally intervened in the attempted kidnapping of a princess from a nearby country.

Once he finished scaring the bewildered men away on their horses (a sight he found barbaric), the princess was left by his pedes cowering in fear. In an attempt to appear less intimidating, Magnus had stepped out of his armor, feeling exposed if not undignified — yet understanding that at least this way she could look at his optics. However, this gave her the impression that he was a knight sent by the Lord to rescue her.

He wanted to correct the human (courtesy of the universal translator), but she was already prostrating by the surface of a nearby rock to pray in relief. Tears dramatically streaming down her neck. With nothing to lose and no signs of his ship, Magnus relented and spent the next few days carrying her through rivers and mountains to return the princess to her limestone castle (somewhat nervous that this breach of protocol would permanently alter the outcome of a thousand-year war). 

But when was the last time anyone ever looked at him with such admiration and awe, even when stripped of his armor? She saw him for who he was — ser minimus, she called him — her champion in shining, metal armor. During the day, he was Ultra Magnus, the giant that fell from the sky. In the night, when she leaned against his side for warmth, delicate and shy, he was just Minimus. And under the pale moonshine where she drifted to sleep against his shoulder, he was reminded of how nice it was to be just Minimus.

For days they trekked through the wildlands, staying under the cover of canopies and steering clear of cities that permanently carried the smell of burning flesh and rotting wood. This was a time of plague and famine, and Magnus couldn’t help but pity her. Because despite the comfort of her velvet drapes and high towers, she would continue to live and die in a time of war and death. He knew too well what that felt like.

Once his little quest had ended and the princess was safe and sound behind gilded gates, it was time to say goodbye. And much to her court’s fascination (and fear), Minimus had dropped to one knee to kiss the back of her palm, once, twice, knowing that this was expected of him as a knight — and that this was maybe the closest souvenir he could have from her. And just as he rose to follow the signal that suddenly appeared on his radars, she had leaned forward on her toes to kiss him. He knew he should pull away, as signaled by the choir of scandalized gasps that erupted around them. Maybe it was the pity, the proximity, or the validation he gets from seeing her gaze up at him with intense devotion, but Minimus found himself doing something incredibly reckless. Back aboard the Lost Light, Rodimus disclosed they knew where to find him thanks to a very interesting painting from the 13th century depicting a princess and her (supposedly fictional) green knight hanging in present-day museums.

" So...Magnus. Are you as good as a kisser as they paint it out to be or was that just the dramatic effect of the ‘renaissance’?" 

(Somewhere behind them, Megatron chimed in to correct Rodimus that it was actually 'pre-renaissance.' He didn't seem too happy when Whirl called him a nerd.)

Magnus refused to answer his Captain's question despite the incessant teasing, choosing to leave the room (so no one could catch him smiling).

[wifetomegatron]

hii, this isn’t a request but i hope you get to see this message. i’m not sure if you’ve abandoned your old works or not but, your writing has genuinely tweaked my gears and left an impact on me. i don’t think i’ve been so emotional reading someone’s work before, especially because it’s touched on some things i struggle with. my fear of death and the unknown. thankyou so much for your works ❤️

thank you for taking the time of your day to write this, i appreciate it ! i actually only recently decided to get back into writing, so while i am moving away from using this blog as my main page for writing, you can find more of my work on @megtrns ! thank you for the support, it means a lot anon <3

[wifetomegatron]

do you have any specific prime-verse headcanons? ❤️❤️

hi lovely anon ! thank you for the message, i'd love to answer this so please send it in my inbox on @megtrns ! cause i've moved my writings there ( this blog is mainly for reposts :) + also never mind the closed request sign on my other blog, i'll still answer this with the next round of requests !) thank youu 🤎

[wifetomegatron]

Oh my goodness, welcome back!!! I just came across your blog the other day and was so infatuated with your writing, but I saw you hadn’t been active so I didn’t wanna send anything in, didn’t wanna bother you- But welcome back!!! Your writing is beautiful, and I hope you’re doing well!!!

Thank you ! that's very kind of you :) It warms my heart to hear that there are people who missed my writing hahah, hopefully I can finally fix this writer's block soon and jump back to writing on @megtrns <3