Hello! You may call me Summer, Leah, or really anything for all I care. I'm 21 and have been in the TFA fandom since I was 10, so I guess you could say I'm a veteran. she/her pronouns please! A scenario/hc blog that is like 70% memes, tbh.
love story with Megatron and femme reader? nsfw if you don't mind? thanks ❤
Is this actually the first imagine I’ve posted all year? Holy moly, I took forever on this! At least it’s up now! :) This is a sequel to this post. Here goes!
When Megatron sits on his throne in the Nemesis with a cube of energon and a straw, it generally means that no one should bother him. The rest of the Decepticons learned this from trial and error. Starscream has gotten pummelled at least twice for even walking into the surrounding area. Unfortunately, no one told (your name), a recent faction-switcher. She crept out into the bridge of the Nemesis with determination. She WAS going to speak to Megatron, and she WAS going to win his heart.
(Y/n) peered out into the bridge, attempting to appear calm as anything, but she was dying inside. “Why did I decide to do this?” she asked herself. She spotted the mech of the hour on his throne, all majestic and such. “I’m not turning back now,” (Y/n) decided. “It’s go time.”
Armed with a data pad, she waltzed in front of his throne and dropped it. “Oh, excuse me,” she said slyly as she bent over to pick it up. She retrieved it and stood back up, facing Megatron. He eyed her disapprovingly.
“Yeah…” she sighed, backing away before Megatron decides he’s had enough of her. “I guess this was a bad idea. I guess I’ll just–"
"Wait,” Megatron demanded. “Where is your Decepticon sigil?”
(Y/n) looked down at her chestplate. It was bare, no Decepticon or Autobot sigil adorning it. “I must not have gotten it…”
“Well, we’ll have to remedy this,” Megatron said, rising from his throne. “Come with me.”
(Y/n) timidly followed Megatron to the branding room aboard the ship. This is the place where he burns the Decepticon insignia onto new recruits to the cause. It was as dark and ominous looking as you’d expect a room on the Nemesis to look, and as (y/n) looked around she began to take in just how much equipment was in there that had nothing to do with branding. She wasn’t aware of what whips, paddles, and floggers had to do with the Decepticon cause, but she shrugged this discovery off and reminded herself that the supreme overlord had to keep his subordinates in line somehow.
Megatron gestured to the middle of the room. (Y/n) proceeded cautiously. Would he be using any of the strange torture devices on her? Although she would never admit it, she was quite eager to find out.
“Kneel,” Megatron ordered once she reached the center of the room.
(Y/n) obeyed unquestioningly, curious to see what his next moves were going to be.
Megatron approached his vast array of branding tools and selected the one he was going to use to make his mark on the new recruit forever. He then returned to face (y/n), who was about to embarrass herself real bad.
“So, you like what you see?” she purred. Making the choice to say that took her about a nanoklik, but she regretted uttering those words almost as quickly.
Megatron rolled his eyes, but his cooling fans came alive to confirm that, yes, he did like what he saw. “(Y/n), the time has come to initiate you into the ranks of the Decepticons,” he told her just as he told all the other recruits he had branded over the stellar cycles. “Now, repeat after me. I pledge my unquestioning loyalty to Megatron and the Decepticon cause.”
(Y/n) repeated the oath with stars in her optics. The thought of her on her knees in front of Megatron has been infecting her dreams since she got aboard the warship, and now that it was actually happening, she was downright giddy. Then again, she did feel a little disgusted with herself. She left the Autobots because of unwanted advances from certain mechs, making sure nothing distracted her from doing her part to bring her faction to victory. I guess the moment she’s actually interested in someone, that dedication all goes to slag and she can think of nothing else but getting her hands on the tall, dark, and handsome object of her desires.
Thankfully, Megatron began to speak again, putting a stop to the self-loathing going on inside (y/n)’s head. “Welcome, brave Decepticon. Your destiny awaits,” he spoke as he activated the brand.
He pressed the hot iron part to her chestplate, causing (y/n) to wince immediately. It hurt, but it hurt so good. As the sigil was being burned onto her plating permanently, the color of her optics changed from neon blue to a smoldering ruby red, and her paint job dimmed to a more subdued version of the colors she was wearing previously. She was now officially a Decepticon.
Megatron removed the brand, and (y/n) fell to the floor, trying to collect herself due to the stinging pain she had just experienced. As much as she tried not to look like a weak little protoform who couldn’t handle pain, she had to admit that the branding REALLY hurt.
“Rise up and serve your new master,” the Decepticon leader commanded. (Y/n) collected herself and rose to her stabilizing servos only to be pinned to the nearest wall by Megatron.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?” he questioned (y/n). “From the moment you came aboard the Nemesis, I’ve been drawn to you.”
(Y/n)’s face had a violet glow across her cheeks. “Really?” she uttered.
“Of course. And I don’t seem to be the only one who is under another bots’ spell,” Megatron hinted as he ran a servo down her frame and slowed down once he reached her hip, inching ever closer to her modesty panel. “The times you watched from afar as I was contacting my loyal subjects elsewhere, the attempts to make conversation after my addresses to High Command. And of course, the incident with the datapad that occurred earlier…”
“Was I that obvious?” (y/n) asked.
“Oh yes,” Megatron chuckled. “But fret not, young recruit. I’m pleased you return my infatuation."
The Decepticon leader leaned in to kiss (y/n), who graciously accepted the kiss, which progressed from relatively innocent to heated very quickly.
Megatron’s servo finally reached (y/n)’s modesty panel and caused it to slide away, revealing her spike and valve to him.
"So wet for me already, I see,” he commented as he ran his digits over her valve. “We’ve barely begun, my love."
(Y/n) watched Megatron kneel between her legs, his optics growing dark with the sight of her dripping valve. He licked a stripe from the bottom to the top of her valve, causing (y/n) to hold in a whimper.
(Y/n)’s cries became harder to suppress as Megatron continued to lick and suck. These barely hidden moans just encouraged the warlord to worship her valve at a faster pace, until she eventually couldn’t take it any more.
She let out a whine as she gyrated her hips against Megatron’s glossa as the first few waves of her climax approached her. "Oh my spark, Lord Megatron!” she cried through the sensation she was feeling.
As her overload subsided, the overlord pulled away from between her legs and rose to his stabilizing servos to tower over (y/n) as he usually does.
“Thank you, Lord Megatron!” the new recruit sighed, drunk on the aftershocks of her overload. “I am so surprised you actually feel the same way about me as I do about you! I mean, what are the odds, right–?”
Megatron released his enormous spike from his armor and pressed a digit over her mouth gently. “Like I’ve said, my dear… we’ve only just begun.”
So I update this blog occasionally and I’ve been posting a response to a request once a millenia, so let me just say... from the bottom of my heart... my bad.
I’ve been working on this Megatron x reader smut for a VERY LONG TIME now and I haven’t even gotten into the smutty part yet, I’m just completely at a loss for what to write about. It’s going to have some BDSM elements obviously, because Megatron is a top and he would fucking go there. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I write like two sentences and then I close the document for another couple of months. :( Ughhhh I feel so bad for making you guys wait for so long for content.
Megatron refers to something (perhaps his optics color) as “blood orange” and then the camera cuts to Optimus on a confession couch saying “blood orange–he’s so pretentious. shut up. it’s fucking red. blood orange.”
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