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Megatron loved playing with his bride. They were so mean, so awful to him. They made him feel alive, like every single piece of wiring demanded that he be touched by them. It made him do rather stupid things. Like tell Knockout he was pretty, when they were standing right there. They were quite cross with him for that, even going so far as to not touch him for a solid week. That was awful enough, but he had done this at the worst possible time; right at the start of his heat. It had gotten so bad, every part of him ached in lust. He forced himself to get out of berth after yet another failed nap, and his body felt like lead. He just wanted someone to touch him. But not only had they yet to return home (His bride took his card and went on shopping sprees quite often, especially without asking him), they refused to even acknowledge him in the slightest. He forced himself to stand, having to hold onto the night stand to keep himself up. His legs wanted to buckle under him, just sit there, allow fate to decide what to do with his body. He looked at his berth, and groaned.
“They’re going to be PISSED…”
Yet again, he made another mess. His panel had opened in his slumber, and he had smeared pink, thick overload all over the sheets. It wasn’t his fault his dreams were full of raw, angry fuckings of his valve. He just wanted to be touched. He wished he could force his body to stop all these primal urges, but alas, fate was a cruel mistress. Just like his own. He went to dig into his closet, hoping to find his usual stash of toys, but nope. They decided he didn’t deserve that either. No fleshlights, dildos, not even a puny vibrator. Just his servos. He lowered them down to the folds, and slowly started to palm and rub at them. A good minute of this should've brought relief. It didn’t. It only brought a sudden bout of rage, which he promptly took out on the shelf, sending it down to the floor in his fury. He HATED touching himself. He could never be rough enough for himself to do any good. He looked around for something, ANYTHING that could help him in his hour of need. He managed to move away from his berth, towards the love seat, just a bit away from the berth. He meant to use it as a means of sitting down, maybe catch his breath, when he noticed the material. It was soft, pleasant to the touch. He ran his servo alongside it, liking the way it felt when it went against his metal.
“I...I’m actually going to do this.”
Megatron knew this was a new low. But Primus, when his valve was twitching and leaking like a broken faucet, did he really have any other choice? Making sure the chair was against the wall (to support his weight), he found his way to the arm rest. Putting one palm on the wall, he slowly started to rub against the fabric. It was nowhere near as good as someone else's servos, but bless the Primes, did it feel so much better than his own palm. One pede anchored to the ground, the other resting on the actual seat, he started to really hump against the arm rest, making the seat creak under his weight. He knew he was staining it with more fluids, but he didn’t care. Not when his face was pressed against the wall, not when he was clawing at his own aft, not when his fluids started to drip to the floor. It made him feel so good, so honestly good. But he knew it wasn’t enough. This was but mere torture till they got home and did….well, whatever they thought appropriate for him. But anything. ANYTHING beat his own servos.
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“Thanks for carrying all of our things, Breaky~”
“Course! Not a problem!”
You and Starscream went out for a nice shopping spree, and Breakdown, ever the sweetspark, agreed to help you with your truckload of things. Starscream may have hated Megatron, but he sure did love spending his credits with you. Starscream chuckled boastfully at his new crown. You thought it was a bit trashy, but hey, you were spending bucket head’s credits, so who cared? He chuckled as all of you stopped by his quarters, with Breakdown proceeding to unload his things.
“Oh, that was fun! You think he’ll be shocked this time around?”
“Probably. But he’s in the dog house right now, so he’s not going to say anything.”
“In the dog house? What’d he do this time? Besides his piss poor leadership, I mean.”
“You wouldn’t believe this- he called Knockout hot. Right in front of me!”
“Oh that bastard.”
You and Starscream didn’t always see optic to optic. But when you wanted to complain about Megatron and spend him into the ground, Starscream was there for you. Ever the judgy glitch, this one was. You nodded, arms thrown in the air.
“Thank you! I tried to tell Soundwave, and you know what HE said?”
“Let me guess. Nothing?”
“He said NOTHING. When I was talking right TO him!”
You both shook your helms. Sure in a week or so, you’ll be beating his aft for trying to kill Megatron again, but for now, he was like your own trine mate. Breakdown finally finished, now holding just your things, and Starscream knew that was the signal to wrap things up.
“That’s just dreadful. I hope he suffers, my dear.”
“Me too. I’ll see you around, Screamer.”
You both waved each other off, and Breakdown walked with you to your quarters. The walk was a bit silent, before Breakdown chuckled.
“If it helps, at least he said it to someone actually pretty. Shows he’s got good taste.”
“Course you think he’s pretty, you buff his processor out nearly every other day.”
You liked Breakdown, but his love for that crimson cunt was the last thing you needed right now. He shrugged, letting you just stew in your anger. He was smart like that. You finally stopped at your front door, and gave it a small knock.
“Megatron, make yourself decent. Putting a bag over your helm might help-”
You opened the door, and nearly gasped at the sight. Your room was a MESS. Sheets thrown about the room, furniture toppled over, and your moron of a sparkmate was on your love seat, quite literally, making love to it. Breakdown lightly swore as he looked away, but you only snarled.
“You fucking-”
You reached up to your things, pulling out a newspaper, rolled it up, and swatted Megatron upside the helm. That seemed to knock him out of his daze. Long enough to look at you with big optics, mouth stuttering for some kind of excuse. You smacked him again, pointing to the corner of the room.
“Bad! You sit in the corner until I’ve cleaned up YOUR mess!”
“But I-”
You smacked him a few more times, sending him off to the corner like the mutt he was. Who knew the great warlord would be so weak against one pretty seeker, and two hundred pages. You turned to Breakdown.
“Breakdown, make my day just a bit easier for me, help me clean up in here.”
Breakdown clearly didn’t want to, but he was smart enough to obey you. He set your things down, and started to pick up. He winced as he picked up anything that was wet, and he clearly wanted this over with as soon as possible. You looked at Megatron, and motioned towards Breakdown.
“Say sorry to Breakdown. If he wasn’t here, I’d rub your nose in it.”
“I’m….sorry, Breakdown.”
“Say ‘I’m sorry I’m a messy boy’”
“I’m sorry I’m a messy boy.”
He sat there in the corner, claws digging into the carpet, and clearly fighting off the urge to hump anything in sight. Breakdown, trying to avoid looking at Megatron, cleared his processor.
“I’ll have to send some Steves in later for some of these stains, but the room is mostly picked up now. May I go?”
“Yes, thank you Breakdown. I’m sorry you had to see that. I THOUGHT someone was better trained than this.”
You smacked him across his face with the paper, just in time for Breakdown to leave. Once that door shut itself, Megatron was on his knees in front of you, ready to beg like some bum.
“I’m sorry! I’m in my heat, and you haven't touched me, and-”
“And WHY haven’t I touched you, Megatron?”
“Because I called Knockout pretty?”
“Because you called him pretty in FRONT of me!”
You swatted him across the face, and he took that, like the glitch he was. He opened his mouth to say something, but you were FAR from done.
“I was right there! It’d be different if it was in front of Breakdown or some Steve, hell, you could be giving him a blowey and I wouldn’t care! But when I’M in front of you, when I’M near you, your attention is on ME, and ME alone. I am your bride. Or have you forgotten that?”
You didn’t get an answer, and that earned him another smack to the face. You knew slapping him would only get him off, so magazine it would be, at least until he was properly punished. He looked up at you, hunched over in shame.
“I haven't forgotten. I swear I haven't. Yes, he’s pretty, but he holds not a candle to you, my love. I-”
“Don’t think your honeyed words will sway me. Shit covered in sugar is STILL shit.”
You pointed at the spot he was sitting at, commanding him to stay put, while you went into your bathroom. It was a bathing area, full of the finest mineral baths credits could afford, but it also doubled as your hiding space. Megatron had a big box just full of toys, and when he was in the dog house, you hid it from him in here. He never could find it, right by your very expensive collection of wing wax. You brought the box back into the room, and plopped it on the berth. You opened it, and sat right next to it, one leg folded over the other. He looked at the box, then looked at you. You sighed, giving a roll of your optics.
“You can pick ONE toy t-”
You didn’t even finish your sentence when he leapt forward, nearly slamming the berth into the wall in his excitement, and damn near crushing you. He dug into the box, as if he had just found gold, and pulled out a toy. You knew he’d pick his favorite; a large, pink, makeshift spike. Topped with bumps, ridges, and a MEAN vibration setting, it could send fucking Unicron into an overloading frenzy. He looked up at you with sad, begging optics.
“I….I want this one, please.”
“Primus, you’re pathetic. On your back.”
He was on his back so quickly, you were wondering how the war waged as long as it had. He got himself comfortable, legs spread out like a whore, and mouth panting like the dirty dog he rightfully was. You dug into the box, past the whips, spike rings, leather belts, and finally found that bottle of lube you were looking for. Did he need it? No, but you liked how it smelled, and you had to use it eventually. He offered you the toy, clearly expecting you to do the work. You scoffed.
“I’M not going to do anything. YOU are going to, while I watch.”
“But-”
“You want my mercy? Earn it. Legs open nice and wide, now.”
He whined, like you knew he would, but he obeyed, keeping them as wide as he could. You opened the bottle, and began pouring it over him. You were quite liberal with your oil; pouring it over like he was a healthy piece of dinner bread. Over his chest, on his stomach, and finally, on his valve. Primus himself could fit into that valve, given how sopping wet it was. He was an anxious, trembling mess, clearly wanting you to touch him. You closed the bottle, put it away, and sat back, wings at attention (You knew he LOVED your wings, and who could blame him?).
“No dice, mega dunce. I want you to rub yourself, and put it in, all by yourself.”
“But I like it when you-”
You slapped him, right across his face. It was a good, hard slap, nearly sending sparks flying. You held onto his face, and you could tell it only fueled his lust.
“I didn't ask you what you liked. I told you what to do.”
Megatron gave a weak nod, before he obeyed. He rubbed at his folds, clearly deriving no pleasure from it, before slowly introducing the tip inside of him. He was acting like this was his first time taking a spike, based on how his helm tossed back in pleasure. He forced more of it inside of him, slowly and surely, pushing more fluids out from his valve. He stopped halfway through, finally getting a good look at you.
“Can-”
“ALL of it. Don’t act like some prude, we both know you can handle it.”
People could look at this scene and see you as cruel, unforgiving. But this was your little game. This was what he liked. He was scum, and he adored you reminding him of that. Even as he mewled like a sorry, weak creature, eager for more than just a toy inside of him, you knew he liked this. He took it to the hilt, grunting once he could fit no more inside. Even with practice, this spike was a monster to take on. You got off from the berth, stood in front of him, and popped open your spike panel. Compared to the toy, you were but a toothpick in terms of size, but that was all this pervert needed. You stroked yourself to the sight for just a moment, before gesturing him to come forward. He was on his hands and knees in front of you, clearly listening to your words as if his life hung in the balance. You stroked his helm, full of fake, humiliating affection.
“You want this spike, don’t you?”
“Y-yes.”
“Then act like it. Suck.”
Megatron didn’t waste a second. He used one hand to keep himself upright, while his other hand held your aft, and he pulled you in. You’d think those glass shards he calls teeth would make this nothing but painful. You’d be wrong. Megatron was so careful with his mouth, so hungry in his desire, he made sure you felt nothing but pleasure. You used both of your hands to hold onto his helm, helping him along. Megatron was useless in so many senses, but not in spike sucking. You almost wanted to get him off just so he could keep sucking you. Almost. When you felt yourself start to throb, you pulled yourself away, much to his disappointment. You smacked your spike a few times on his face, leaving little splotches of his own drool.
“You are SO spike hungry, it’s sad.”
You let your spike press itself against his face, before leaning over to reach into the box again. Your favorite leash. Leather, decorated with metal studs, it was perfect for him. You clipped it around his neck, and gave it a tug, listening to the way it creaked his metal.
“Turn around. Aft up.”
You gave him just enough leash room to do so, and you had to take a minute to admire it. A sopping wet valve, a sweaty set of thick thighs, and a spike big enough to hang on the side of a deli, you found yourself lucky. Not that you’d ever tell him that. You made the motion to peel away the false spike, give him the real thing, when you had an awful idea. His fully exposed aft port. Aft ports were more or less useless for Cybertronians, so of course, they were used for someone to stick their dicky for a quicky. You had touched all over this frame before, but this was a place not very explored. A place that was filthy, a place so shameful, you knew he’d bring shame to the decepticons, if anyone heard he let someone in there. Perfect. You kept your grip on his leash, rubbing your spike against his array. He turned his helm to look at you, clearly perplexed.
“I don’t think you AND the spike can fit in there. As small as you are-”
“Cut the attitude. I’m not going in your valve.”
He was about to ask, before you suddenly flicked the toy on its highest vibration, and pushed yourself right into that aft. His claws dug into the headboard ahead of him, making it look like a cats stretching post.
“Y-you’re in my aft!”
“No, I’m in fucking Caminus- YES I’m your aft!”
You just kept thrusting. Leash pulled nice and tightly, hips clanging against his own, toy buzzing like a damn chainsaw, his words were nothing but a farce. You could tell from the way he just sat there and took it. The way he cried and begged and clawed at the sheets below him. He loved this. And he was SUCH a tight fit too, making it just as enjoyable for you. His body was built to please. You yanked at his leash again, nearly making him choke from the force.
“Tell me you like it. Really sell it to me, you mutt.”
“I like it! I like it in my aft! I swear I like you fucking my aft!”
He couldn't lie even if he wanted to. He was too busy drooling, too busy begging you to fuck him harder. You could tell he was so close. So ready to just overload for you and-
“Hold it.”
Suddenly you stopped. He turned to look at you, looking as if he was about to pass out from pleasure.
“I….what? Was I not loud enough?”
“No, you were screaming like your usual whore self. I just think you’re under the impression that you can overload.”
“I….I can’t?”
“Not till I fucking say you can.”
“B-but!”
You delivered a firm swat, right to his aft. It was enough to make him hold his dirty glossa.
“You overload when I’m ready. I’M first. If you overload before I tell you, I’m putting that spike in a fucking cage for a MONTH. Do you understand?”
He looked about ready to cry. You knew if he couldn’t handle it, he’d use your safe word. But he didn’t. Because your Megatron liked a challenge, the idea of pleasing you in ways no other mechs could. He nodded, though you could tell he wanted to whine about it.
“I’ll be a g-good boy. I promise. Just please, PLEASE keep going.”
You granted him that mercy. With a smack to his valve, you kept going. You bucked into him in a wild, lust fueled frenzy, making him yell and cry out for you like the horny thing he was. It wasn’t much longer till you overloaded in his aft, really making sure every drop was unloaded right into you. He whimpered and whined, almost overloading right there and then. You slowly pulled yourself out, sighing in satisfaction. You could just call it a night, honestly. But looking at that swollen, wet valve, you’d have to be pure evil not to let that overload. You slowly pulled the vibrating toy from his valve, before shoving it right into his aft. He buried his face in the sheets, throwing his fist against the headboard.
“Oooh….someone liked that, didn’t he? You like this big thing shoved inside your port?”
He nodded furiously, and you couldn't help but chuckle. His giant body was hiding the view of his face, but that didn’t matter. You could tell he was drooling, you could tell his face was hot enough to melt steel. He was a shameless slut, through and through. You gave another yank of the leash, and his body stiffened. He knew that meant you were going to give him a command.
“Stroke your spike. I want you to get so fucking close to overloading.”
He obeyed, though you knew it was a struggle. At this point, his once weak touch was more than enough to tip him over the edge, so the fast, forceful palm against his weak spike, was agony. It didn’t help that you kept slapping his aft over and over again, leaving the paint scratched and raw.
“That’s it, pump your spike for me. Make me really think you deserve that overload."
He continued his actions, letting you make every scratch, every berating comment you could think of. You watched as his fluids cascaded from his spike, to the berth below. He was throbbing so hard, it looked almost painful. Good. You grinned as you leaned down, and pinched at his node, making him cry out in surprise. You chuckled as you heard that growl stifle in his throat.
"You almost overloaded, didn't you?"
"Let go of my node, it FUCKING hurts."
You knew it did. It's why he still hadn't moved, it's why he sat there and let you pinch and pull at it, nearly swooning in his ecstasy. You wanted him to fail. Wanted to see the great Megatron be a loser.
"Oh, but you like it. You like me pinching this node while you're pumping yourself. Look at you. You're gonna make a big mess, right on my hand. I know you are."
Thick ribbons of fluid fell from his servos, his legs trembled, you knew he was SO close. He then met your optics, and growled.
"I-i won't lose. You're going to fuck my valve, and I'm g-gonna overload. Please?"
It was hard to be big and bad, while you liked being treated like dirt. You rolled your optics, before you yanked at him again, forcing his valve right onto your spike. Megatron's valve. How to describe it. The valve that had pleasured many mechs, and for good reason. It was tight, hot, and wetter than a water slide; it was a feat that YOU didn't overload first. You stood your ground however, and pounded that valve. A minicon would've felt just as good to him, and he did NOT hesitate to let you know.
"YES! FUCK MY VALVE! USE ME!"
Okay, more like let the whole ship know. Megatron wasn't a quiet mech, and his shame was a small price to pay for a good overload. He was close, and so were you. You could hardly keep it together at this point.
"You wanna overload?"
"YES!"
"You gonna yell for me? Let the ship know you're a filthy whore?"
"YES!!"
"Say it. Yell it. Yell it loud enough or I swear to Primus, you'll never overload again."
"I'M A WHORE! I'M YOUR FILTHY CUM DUMPSTER OF A WHORE!~"
You would've preferred his voice box give out, but you couldn't wait any longer. You gave him one good pull of his leash, and in an almost hushed whisper, you put him out of his misery.
"Cum."
His screams of delight were massive. He sounded like he had gone mad from the way he screamed. His valve tightened around you, his spike showered the berth in fluids, and he overloaded. You watched as his spike pumped out more and more overload, watched as his body spasmed in sweet, blissful lust, before his body suddenly went limp. You rolled your optics, pulled out that annoying vibrator from his aft, and tossed it to the side. You pulled out, watching the overload seep from his valve. He looked at you with such love sick optics, it was disgusting.
"I. Love you SO much."
"Primus you're a whore. You let me overload in your aft."
“And YOU’RE the one who liked it so much.”
You had a feeling he’d say that. You gave his aft a smack, before you both ended up the same way you both always did; with him laying on his back, with your helm on his titties. He wrapped an arm around you, just how you preferred. You two sat in a wet, exhausted silence, before you looked up at him.
“You don’t think Knockout is prettier, right? Because if you do, I’ll leave you in an instant.”
He gave a shake of his helm, making the leash lightly sway as he did so.
“He’s pretty, you can’t deny that. But I would never welcome him into my berth, especially over you. No one is as petty, as evil, as stunning as you are. I love you, and only you. You’re awful. I couldn’t have picked a better bride. Besides, he’s nowhere NEAR as pretty as you.”
He gave your chin a light scratch, just as you like, and you swooned into it. Despite wanting to be treated like a back alley tramp, he really did treat you like a queen.
“Mmmmm….those are words I like to hear. You really do love me, don’t you?”
“Unfortunately. I’m terribly, awfully in love with a beautiful, evil little seeker.”
“You love me enough to check your card balance?”
He reached over to pull out his data pad, and you felt the chin scratches stop. He looked at you, ready to ask a million questions, before you grabbed the leash, and YANKED. It brought a shiver down his spine, and you saw all worries leave his face. He nodded.
“Y-yes. I’m quite sure I love you enough for….this.”
Unlike you, it was NOT pretty to look at. But he didn’t care.
Not when you held that sinister smirk on your stunning face.