Write the stealth bomber one queen, let the worms out!
𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 idw stealthbomber megatron x tarn x human fem reader
-> warnings/tags: minors dni. dub-con, forced cuckolding, megatron is a dick pt. 2. rough sex. mostly megatron. 3.4k words |
ouGHHH anon i had to do it. this scenario was playing in my mind over and OVER. thank u for fuelling me <3 as always with the tarn fics, this exists in my tarn x reader universe!! not all of the writing here is as developed as usual, but i hope u have happy gooning hours regardless <3
˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮----------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖
"He needs to be punished, Little Star, he's failed me once too many times," Megatron growls down to you, trying to make you understand why he has to rule with his iron fist.
"Master, no, please!" You desperately implore, shuffling on your knees to place your hands on his thighs. Your brows bunch together as you look up at him with a pleading look. "Please, he'll do better next time! Please don't punish him!"
"Look at you, begging on your knees," Megatron coos as he spreads his thighs wider open. "It suits you."
He places a gentle servo against your cheek, stroking his thumb tenderly over your cheekbone as you lean into his touch, trying to do anything to mollify him.
"Do you know what else suits you?" He continues, cocking his helm to the side. You don't answer, assuming that his question is a rhetorical one, and he's about to answer it for you.
With a hiss, Megatron's interface panels retract to release his spike, which pressurises up to stand at its impressive height.
"Having my spike in your mouth," he says, answering his own question. You look at his length, greeted with it once again after many, many months. You suck a sharp breath in between your clenched teeth as you understand that you're going to be the means of Megatron's punishment to Tarn, for a second time.
"M-Master," you nervously voice. The first time with Megatron was fun, and then with Overlord… Not so much. Now, all you ever want is Tarn. You don't want to be with anyone apart from your hulking, beautiful mech.
"Do as I ask and I'll spare Tarn from further punishment," Megatron bargains. Your eyes flit up to look him in the optics, your apprehension evident.
"Refuse me, and I'll kill him," he threatens, seriousness laced into each word. This is no hollow threat. The weight of it descends upon your shoulders almost immediately.
Your eyes widen, realising that there is no other option.
"Show me your tongue," Megatron flashes a sharp smile.
Letting your tongue loll out of your mouth, you look up to Megatron through your lashes as you steel your anxieties. It'll be worth it. If it means Tarn can be let off unscathed, it's 100% worth it.
"So well trained," Megatron muses as he grabs the base of his spike with his free servo. Sliding the servo resting on your cheek to the back of your head, he keeps you steady before he brings his tip to your tongue.
He drags his tip over the wet muscle, going from side-to-side to decorate your tongue with the small amount of fluid already weeping from his tip.
His optics are honed in on his spike, watching intently for any sign of lapse in your submission to him. You remain as still as you can, letting him tease his spike. His intake drops to make way for a quiet, airy moan as he draws all over your tongue. You sit perfectly still, allowing him to do what he needs to do. This is for Tarn. You're doing this for Tarn.
He starts to thrust slowly and gently up and down over your tongue, making sure he pushes your top lip on each thrust up.
"How long did it take you to get them to behave so well, Tarn?" Megatron asks, his processor buzzing with pleasure at the textured feeling of your tongue over the sleek metal of his tip.
Tarn doesn't know what to say, and frankly, he can't believe that the three of you are back in this position again. He needs to answer, he must say something, lest he wishes to test Megatron's patience further.
"It was… Easy," Tarn replies, almost mindlessly.
"Really?" Megatron chuckles, "They had such a fire when they were under my care. You've made them placid."
"They still have that fire, my Lord, trust me," Tarn continues.
Slapping his spike on your tongue, Megatron lets the muscles' natural buoyancy to bounce his spike back and forth. Tarn can hear it, the small slaps which symbolise Megatron's unyielding dominion over everything and everyone. Megatron gifted you to Tarn, but he would have no qualms over reclaiming you, if it came to that.
"Open wider," Megatron demands as he pushes his spike past your lips, rutting his hips slightly to taunt his tip in and out. You open your mouth for him, letting him slide his length in.
Remembering how you were with Overlord last time, Megatron isn't willing to let this situation go the same way.
You relent almost immediately, sucking on him whilst bobbing your head up and down. You'll do your best to please him, you'll give everything if it means getting him off. He can overload down your throat, and unlike with Overlord, you'll drink it all. You'll be so grateful for everything that your Lord and Master so generously gifts to you.
Your pupils are blown wide as you're unable to resist moaning, your cunt throbbing with a hot ache as you feel Megatron's spike slide down your throat. He vents, relaxing back in his chair further as you take of much of him in that sweet, organic mouth as you can. Tarn has trained you wonderfully, he's turned you into a perfect sex toy.
Megatron snakes his large, sharp servo around the back of your head, his servo practically covering you entirely. That really does something for you and that developing size kink that rears its head every so often. He forces your head, stilling your bobbing to push you further and further down his length. Your eyes roll back as you feel him slide down the valley of your throat, urging you closer and closer.
He's hushing sweet noises down at you, little sprinklings of praises. You've managed to take his whole spike in your mouth once before, and you'll manage again. You try to tame the fear that lashes in your veins, the panic of not being able to breathe freely.
"Further, little one," Megatron whispers.
The vibrations of your moans are trailing down his spike, making his thigh struts twitch. As the tip of your nose meets his panels, you feel a momentary release of knowing that it's over. Your mouth is wedged open as far as it can go, your throat muscles constricting around his length to massage him.
He holds you there, letting you suckle what you can, trying to get your tongue to move despite how it's pinned down by his spike. Your hands settle on his thigh struts, gripping to find any kind of purchase as saliva starts to drip down your lip.
Your waterline wells with tears, Megatron pushing you to your limit. He can't help but grin as he watches your silent struggle.
Pulling your head, he takes you off his spike. You gasp as you start to suck down large breaths, your heart hammering against your ribcage as your fingers develop pins and needles.
"Come up here, pretty thing," Megatron prompts with a beckoning motion of two digits.
Shuddering a breath, you lift yourself up on shaky legs as you try to steady your breathing, somewhat relieved that he didn't have the act continue until he finished. Megatron tilts his helm to the side as he gazes down your creased, silken dress. You always make sure to wear silk around Megatron, it's his favourite material on you.
"Take it off quickly, otherwise I will rip it," Megatron says.
You nod your head quickly before lifting your hands to hook your thumbs under the thin straps that stretch over your shoulders. You pull on them, letting them slide down your forearms until you're in a position to shimmy the rest of it off you.
Tarn doesn't let you wear underwear. He insists that it's unnecessary, and often only serves to obstruct him from what he wants to be accessible to him at any time. There are a few occasions where he will concede and allow you that modesty, but today wasn't one of those occasions
The dress pools at your feet, leaving you bare completely before your former master. You see his optics gleam brighter at your naked body, already mentally fucking your brains out.
Following on from his previous command, you shift closer to sit on his lap. You slowly slide one knee after the other onto either side of his hip plating, leaving you hovering above his spike.
You sink down onto his spike, trying your best to once again forget that Tarn is just behind you. Watching. Helpless. Just like with Overlord, all over again.
Trying not to think about it, you focus on the fact that you're doing this for Tarn. You can't bear to see any more of his beautiful face torn to shreds, or hear his screams of agony as Megatron inflicts damage on him.
You loosely wrap your arms over Megatron's shoulders, rolling your hips in a wave-like motion whilst you pant for breath.
Your brows crease in a frown as your eyelids feel heavy, closing your eyes so that you don't have to look at Megatron. That smug, insufferable expression he has on his face whilst you can see Tarn's reflection in his optics. You can't watch it. You just have to get through this bit, and then Tarn can take you back to the Peaceful Tyranny, and everything will go back to normal.
"Why don't you look at me, Little Star?" Your master asks, vanity drenching every word.
You rock your hips as consistently as you can, trying to picture Tarn in your mind. He's the only thing that can get you off nowadays, not even Megatron's impressive prowess could suffice.
"I'm— I'm just focusing, Master," you dismissively reply, hoping that it'll be sufficient to cease his probing.
"Focusing on what?" Megatron whispers, sensing that you aren't focusing on getting him off. There's something else curling in that mind of yours, pictures being painted over the walls in hopes that it'll drown out the reality.
"Oh, I get it," Megatron chuckles. "You love him, don't you? You're in love with Tarn. You need to think about him."
He grips your face with his clawed servo, forcing you to look him directly in his smug optics. You have all of his attention, your stunning eyes and the exquisite way you cinch your cunt around his girth.
"Am I right?" Megatron flashes his silver dentae in a grim smirk.
You try your best to nod your head despite his hold on you, mewling out a pathetic 'Yes'.
"Do you hear that, Tarn? They love you," he sneers with his permanent grin as he spreads his legs further, making you falter for a moment. He wants Tarn to watch, he wants to have a clear view of how your pussy stretches over his dark grey spike. The milky dew that coats him from your excitement contrasts beautifully, and Tarn knows from his own experience how dripping wet you get.
Tarn simply watches with bright optics, trying to convince himself that it's him fucking you right now, and this is an out-of-body experience. The first time Megatron took you like this, Tarn was into it. He was undeniably turned on by a threesome between all of you. But things have changed since then.
"Oho?" Megatron titters again, "Do you love them too, Tarn?"
It's obvious, it's glaringly clear to Megatron. The way Tarn's frame trembles just slightly, the horrified look that Megatron can picture lying beneath that cold mask.
"Wait," Megatron laughs as he grins down at you, getting off on that sorry look plastered on your face. "It's deeper than that, isn't it? You're his Conjunx Endura."
An accurate assumption, and it stirs something sickening in your stomach to be bouncing on the spike of Megatron when your Conjunx is here.
Your mutual silence with Tarn, apart from your moans, tells Megatron everything he needs to know. He's right. One of his most fearsome Decepticons has fallen helm over pedes for his former pet, his callousness boiled down to softness whenever you're involved.
"Tarn conjunxed you," he chuckles heartily before grabbing your hips, forcing you to roll them harder over his spike. "And here you are, riding me. All for the sake of keeping your sweet Conjunx Endura safe from a harsher punishment."
Megatron fucks up into you with a newfound drive, making you cry out as your back arches.
"Tarn!" You moan brokenly. It was instinctual, a habit that spewed from your lips. Tarn's optics glitch behind you, feeling the overwhelming need to take you from Megatron.
"Wrong," Megatron hisses up at you. "How dare you moan his name when I'm the one fucking you? I'll punish you both for that."
Fresh, hot tears start to stream down your cheeks as you plead with your brain to stop recoiling, to please stay on track and focus on the here and now.
"I'm sorry, Master!" You shrill as you lay your hands over his cheeks, trying to guide his face to look at you to get Tarn out of his visual crosshairs.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you hush as you lower your head down to plant what you hope to be distracting kisses on his derma. "It won't happen again, I promise. You're all I need right now, Master."
He kisses you back as he continues to slap his hips up into yours, the sounds of your wet cunt resounding around the emptiness of the room. You whine and moan pathetically into his mouth, letting him get lost in the tightness of your pussy. Knowing that Tarn is watching only makes it more exciting for Megatron, understanding that this is a harsher punishment than anything Megatron could physically inflict on Tarn.
"Moan my name," Megatron commands in a tone that only you can hear.
"Lord Megatron," you try to make it sound as convincing as possible, hushing his name into his intake.
He enjoys the way you're cradling his face more than he'd like to admit, such a tender touch from someone he's fucking so ruthlessly.
"Lord Megatron!" You cry, trying to keep your bounces consistent with his thrusting. Your juices are trickling down his length, gathering in a perfect ring at his base.
Warm air fans from the grated vents on his chassis, working overtime to regulate his frame's temperature. He would never admit it out loud, but he's self-serviced many nights to the feeling of your cunt. How tight and perfect it is, and he's glad to see that his memory of it has stayed true.
"Touch yourself," he bites, making you mewl in reaction.
Poor you. Tarn would never make you touch yourself, he always does it for you.
You slip your hand down your body to find your clit, circling on the bud. It's messy, and difficult to get a grip from how slippery everything is down there right now.
Fuck, he's stretching you so wide. His spike is perfectly fitting for the leader of the Decepticons, and you're sure you can still feel him in your throat.
Your legs are growing tired, your hips are non-stop rolling over him whilst he jackhammers inside of you. Slapslapslap, over and over.
You think of Tarn, how good he is at getting you off. How much he loves stuffing his scarred face into your dripping pussy after a long day, how he begs for you to ride his face until he short-circuits.
Or how last time he came back from a particularly challenging mission, he fucked you against the wall. Too heated for any kind of foreplay, he practically dragged you back to your habsuite before pinning you against the wall just beside the door and getting to work. He kept the mask on that time, despite your meek pawing to get him to take it off.
God, he's so beautiful. You're conjunxed to one of the prettiest mechs you've ever seen, and he's all yours.
"Close," you breathe, "I'm close!"
You're picturing Tarn inside of your mind, and you sincerely hope that he knows that.
You throw your head back as you find your way to the end. You slip over your own mind, your hips faltering again and again as you orgasm around your master's spike.
"I'll overload inside of you," Megatron snickers as your walls flutter around him.
There's no time to say anything, no moment where you can pull off him. He's overloading before you realise it, kindly making sure that every drop shoots right into your heat.
"I need to be better," Tarn mumbles into your mouth as your hips bounce slowly on his spike. His strong, clawed servos grip your hips for assistance. "Need to be better for you."
"Shhshsh," you hush as you brush your lips over his derma. "You're perfect."
"Megatron will continue to use you to punish me if I don't get better," Tarn says lowly. It breaks your heart to hear things like this from him. He works tirelessly, and his loyalty is unwavering. He's without a doubt one of the most competent amongst Megatron's arsenal of Decepticons.
"I'm all yours," you say as your cunt gets wetter, "Nothing will change that. I'll never make love to anyone like how I do when I'm with you."
"I need to be better at protecting you," Tarn continues, almost as if he can't hear your reassurances, "You're my Conjunx, it's my responsibility to protect you."
"As it's mine to protect you," you respond, barely reining in the moan that's bubbling in your throat. You'll protect him as best you can, as much as is feasible for a human to do over a 38-foot, walking, talking killing machine. Even if it means letting your former master get his spike wet by using your pussy.
"Fuck, you feel so good," you moan before capturing his derma in another kiss. Your nails dig into the treads of his tyres as his thick spike parts your walls. "No one can make me feel how you do."
This is where you're meant to be. This is who you're meant to be riding. Your love. Your true love.
"Songbird," Tarn whines. "You're going to make me overload."
"Yes," you practically hiss, "Overload. Overload for me, please, fill me with your transfluid. I'll be dripping with it, stuffed so full. Yours, yours, all yours!"
Your begging is what tips him over the edge. He throws his helm back against the berth as he grips your hips tighter, forcing you to sit fully on his spike as he shoots a strong load of transfluid straight inside of you.
"My sweet Songbird," Tarn hushes into the air as the bliss threads itself into all of his circuitry. A long, stretched-out overload that has the gold pulses that run through the exposed parts of his faceplate goes haywire.
He's quick with his next action, switching your positions to swing you underneath him. Despite his speed, he's gentle in the way he sets you down on the berth, all without taking his spike out. You go with a small yelp, not expecting him to act so quickly.
He begins to thrust into you, and anything you might have voiced dies there and then on your lips as you moan, draping your arms over his treads.
"Need to make you cum," he carries on, expressing more needs that he has to fulfil.
"You always do," you mewl as your back arches, pressing your chest into the winged plating on his chassis.
He fits his servo between your bodies, taking care as he considers his sharp talons, before he starts to stroke at your clit. You moan louder, your legs shooting up to wrap around his hips. He glares down at you, red-hot passion burning in his optics as he plays with you.
"That's it," you moan, "Just like that! You're gonna make me cum so fast."
"Squeeze that tight cunt around me, I want to see your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you lose yourself on me," your lover huskily speaks.
"Command it," you challenge. "Make me."
Tarn's optics stutter, understanding exactly what you're asking for. The two of you are extremely experimental in the bedroom, but you haven't ventured into these waters yet. He keeps thrusting, allowing a few more seconds in case you change your mind.
"Tell me what to do, Tarn!" You moan louder.
His voice pierces through you. It strikes right into your mind, sinking its teeth in to leave you helpless. You feel the tingles of his power spark through your system, leaving your body almost limp.
You gasp as your body immediately complies, a forceful stream of fluid squirting from your cunt and onto his plating.
as i said before: stealthbomber megatron slapping it on your tongue, amen.
