You're a female Decepticon, in battle formation, precise and decisive. Megatron notices you among his minions. He's incapable of showing affection, but everything connected with you evokes an incomprehensible tension in him — a desire to control, to command attention, to test your reactions.

During one mission, he assigns you an important task: to destroy an Autobot camp. You carry it out meticulously, but Megatron notices that your gaze keeps returning to him. At first, he angrily yells at you.

"You're distracted! You're doing nothing but darting your eyes around!"

His voice pierces the metal and the air around you, and you barely have time to adjust to his command. But then he takes a step back, as if trying to soften his tone, but it comes out clumsy. His voice deepens slightly, vibrating through the metal.

"I... you must understand that your attention is important to me. Come closer. Look at me."

He repeats this several times in different situations: when you're fighting the Autobots, when he's giving orders to the Decepticons, when he's watching you from the shadows. Each time, his attempt to show something resembling tenderness is rough, harsh, almost frightening, yet still tinged with concern. He runs his gaze over your body, leans slightly to get closer, lightly touches your hand when giving a command — almost awkwardly, as if he's learning to show affection for the first time.

And then this moment: after another victory, when all the Decepticons have departed, he leads you to the throne. You sit on his lap, at his command, almost unable to move. His palms — rough, metallic — run over your body, as if he's learning to be gentle without ever having done it. He squeezes lightly, pulls away slightly, searching for boundaries, and every movement is a mixture of control and awkward care. He says quietly.

"You're mine. And I... must understand this... correctly."

You feel tension, confusion, fatigue, mixed emotions as his words, his movement, and his presence press simultaneously. Your systems tremble with a combination of fear, curiosity, and irritation. Words that seem simultaneously caring and humiliating, baring your soul to him. You turn your head sharply, your eyes flashing with fury.

"You caress me, then on the contrary, you hit."

"You open your soul to me... And you make a laughing stock of me!"

"Did I just describe our relationship, Megatron?"

At that moment, it suddenly becomes incredibly quiet. The subtle vibration from his system, the hum of distant machinery, and even the noise outside the throne room vanish, as if the entire world has frozen. The silence is more oppressive than any words; you want to scream, but it's impossible to say anything. Every metal around you trembles with tension, and you feel the full complexity of your relationship — power, control, affection, and pain, all intertwined in this moment.