Welcome to Dead Dove Summer! A casual 18+ fanwork event!
The purposes of this event are as follows:
Present a list of prompts that are kinky, dark and/or taboo.
Present a casual timeline of creation to take the pressure off of creating something immediately.
Have fun and share our stuff with each other while keeping everything labeled. Think of this like a cake convention. If you don't want red velvet, don't take a slice. It'll be labeled. ;)
In the next few days I'll be posting the bingo boards and some basic guidelines/ideas for how people can do this event. As the mod, I plan to be participating myself, so I will be fairly hands off save for answering asks, posting submissions to this blog and maybe creating a collection on Ao3.
Possible FAQ:
First and foremost: This hasn't been a question yet but works generated by AI are not welcome in this event.
People dreamed and created works Only.
Q: The mod is StarlightCaptivator? Does this mean this event is Transformers fandom only?
A: Nope! Though I don't expect this event to go much further than TF fandom. TF is a fandom ripe for dark and kinky topics explored in a way that is much more palatable for some folks. Do what you want though, I'm not your mom.
Q: So is this a Fanfiction only event?
A: Nope! Fic or art is welcome. Of course, being hosted on Tumblr means we have some.... visual restrictions, but as long as the links are above board, links to bluesky, pixiv or other sites that host content tumblr doesn't are cool. Or try on tumblr, still not your mom. (another perk of tf fandom, to be honest)
Q: What If I don't want to tag stuff?
A: Then this event may not be for you! It's literally on the bag! Tags within chapters are cool, Art will need to be tagged by the artist, not just tossed into submission willy-nilly. I'm trying to have fun here too you know.
Q: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat means "bad/wrong" to me.
A: "Dead Dove: Do Not Eat" Is a content warning system that means you will find exactly what is written on the bag in it. If it's labeled with {X}, it means there's an expectation that there will be {X} in the fic/art. I'm not interested in moralizing kink and fiction in this event as "good" or "bad", so I will not be.
I'm sure this will grow as we go, I'm looking forward to what everyone will be making!
Summary: What was supposed to be a relaxing day at the beach turns into a heavily pregnant Drift learning something new about himself.
Primus help the poor bot to witness this newly realized depravity.
Couple: Ratchet/Drift
Tags: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Sex on the Beach, Ratchet is So Done, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Valves, Spikes, Mech Preg, author does not condone this, Drift you have terrible timing as always, Involuntary Witness, sand in places it shouldn't be, Inspired by a Jimmy Buffett Song, Sorry Jimmy Buffett, DeadDoveSummer2026, Happy Ending - SORT OF HAHAHA
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Authors Note: This is my first time writing something between Ratchet and Drift. Figures it would involve sand. Make sure to give all of our other lovely Authors for DeadDoveSummer a look as we fill our Bingo cards!
Hell yeah, Prompts!! How about Shattered glass vers of Starscream/Optimus Prime? Exhibitionism/electro stimulation.
Check ao3 for complete tag/warnings
Were Optimus a mech of better humor, he would have said the air in the audience chamber was electric with anticipation. As he was not, and had not been since even before the matrix was shoved into his cracked chassis, he merely lounged on his blackened throne and watched his newest acquisition dance.
Strung up in the middle of the roomāarms stretched high and tied to a long metal pole that descended from the oval ceiling, legs unbound, pedes only just grazing the marble floor, and wings free to trembleāwas Starscream.
Thin purple and green wires wound around and through the seekerās pristine white armor. Clear pads covered the wire ends and clung to the insides of beautifully crafted thighs, the tips of delectably delicate wings, the pits of his arms where rounded ball-joints joined his chassis, his breakable wrists, and one directly over bright red modesty plating.
A single purple wire and pad flattened directly over his silvery glossa, forcing it to hang past plush derma framing a wide-open mouth. Oral lubricant dripped down the sides; puffs of hot air appeared after every laborious vent.
Once (many times if Optimus were a remotely honest mech), during a city-state deciding battle, the Prime had imagined luring the air commander from smoke-filled skies to the muddy ground. Pressing his considerable weight into the smaller mech until they both sank into it, covering that unworthy symbol on otherwise perfect wings. Harshly gripping and tearing the flashy modesty plating that had obviously been designed to draw even the most stoic of mechaās optics.
Taking what was his by divine right directly in front of the Decepticon leader.
It was a deserving punishment for a once-confidantās theft. Megatron had not only robbed Optimus of his once freely conceded companionship, but had also stolen the only mech Optronix had long since yearned for.
Jeering from the crowd drew the Prime from less than idle musings and back to his captiveās compulsory performance. The Autobotsā ever-changing inner circle stood closest to where the Decepticon was displayed, and the rabble squeezed together behind them. Red optics and visors burned with cruelly derived glee. None crossed the invisible line Optimus had encircled the seeker with upon his initial announcement of a show. He allowed his soldiers that gracious reprieve after such a momentous, easily gained victory.
Only one mech, the sole ember that stood taller than the Prime, stared at the prisoner with anything other than amusement crudely mixed with desire.
Optimus smirked behind his mask at the horror reflecting behind Jetfireās wide optics. It was a teasing sample of the stricken expression Megatron would no doubt wear once he heard news of his second-in-commandās fate.
If the Decepticon spies hidden amongst the crowd were not already broadcasting their air commanderās merited quandary back to base, that was.
Electricity began to flow once again, crackling along Starscreamās frame and forcing his arms to pull at their bindings, while the razor-thin wire binding him bit deeper. His legs spasmed and kicked, the most uncoordinated any present, including Optimus, had ever seen the seeker. Wings fluttered, rising and falling, each movement accompanied by a wonderfully violent trembling. Once blue optics had gone completely black, having shorted out after the fifth, or sixth, or maybe seventh? Such a charge had coursed through him.
Optimus shifted his position, resting an elbow on one of the throneās arms and propping his battlemask-covered chin on a dark purple servo. Long legs spread, allowing trapped heat to rise from the gaps that connected his thighs to his pelvic plating. Beads of condensation formed and slowly trickled down his burning array cover as he watched Starscream writher.
And despite the captiveās namesake, Optimusās star had yet to scream.
Grunts of pain, wheezing vents, moans that tickled the sensor-net connected to Optimusās arrayāall made the crowd howl with delight. A pre-show to an after-party only two mechs would attend. Their covetous gazes and lustful fields raked across the Decepticonās frame.
How terrified Starscream must feel. How violated. To know that all Optimus had to do was snap his digits, and the salivating crowd would rush forward. Each greedily reaching for and grabbing the seeker, pulling him apart, piece by undignified piece.
For all the faults Starscream accused Optimus of having, shouting insults from on high, how lucky must he feel? Grateful, even, that most were true. Greedy, selfish, deeply jealous.
Optimus would never again allow another to possess the seeker. They could look, they could want, they could fantasize, but only the Prime would touch. Not even a medic would be permitted to place servos on Starscream. Any repairs required, and there would certainly be many after this night, would be administered by Optimus under the begrudgingly respectful guidance of his chief medical officer.
Something akin to a screech emanated from deep within Starscreamās chassis; Optimus sat stiffly up. His ember burning so hotly he feared (hoped) it would melt through the matrix.
Blue arcs of electricity followed the arch of Starscreamās back, jumped between armor seams that could not decide whether to close or gap wide. Precious glimpses of protoform appeared the longer thenā
Something inside the seeker popped. Yellowish, purple liquid seeped from an open seam in his side, traveling in long rivets over his pelvic array, down his legs, dripping into a shallow but growing puddle on the floor. Hydraulic fluid, impure and in clear need of replacement.
An image flashed across Optimusās vision: licking Starscream clean with his glossa and sucking on the ruptured tubing until the rubber flattened.
He slammed a fist onto one of the throneās wide arms, calling an abrupt end to the festivities, and stood. No command needed to be given for the crowdās chants to dwindle into hushed whispers. The mass of mecha parted without a word as their leader glided through them toward his prize. And as Optimus passed Jetfire, he nodded his appreciation, grinning when the shuttle fought a glare and turned his gaze downward.
Had the mech truly believed Optimus would take his time convincing the seeker of the Autobot cause and its inevitable victory? When the Prime had never cared whether Starscream joined their faction, only so long as Starscream joined him.
Later, after Optimus had savored every unwilling part of the seeker, he would send Jetfire a proper reward for the gift he had so selflessly relinquished.
As the Decepticon second-in-command had not been captured, not in the traditional, enjoyable sense that involved torn armor and subjugation through superior might. But by way of betrayal. Given up by a trusted partner to the Autobots after what might have been the hundredth failed attempt to persuade him to willingly defect.
Optimus had not bothered to waste his crowded processor on counting the number of rejections Starscream had hatefully spat in the Primeās direction. Once was enough to revoke the favored, gentle treatment the seeker had unknowingly been bestowed.
Crystal Cityās destruction had been the only appropriate response. Though Starscreamās current discipline was a close, preferred second.
Arriving at the center of the circle, standing before a trembling, furious seekerāit was more difficult than the Prime would ever admit to control himself in that moment. Even without optics or Optimus announcing his presence, Starscream managed to level the Autobot leader with a look of such loathing that it caused the tip of his spike to leak and smear transfluid against its closed cover.
He wanted to reach through his prizeās canopy and grasp the ember he knew glowed pure white. He wanted to snap his faceplate back and devour that beautiful warmth. He wanted to consume everything the seeker was and would ever be. He wanted.
Optronix. Optimus. Prime. They wanted.
And they would have, slowly, meticulously, fast, brutally. However long it took for their consummation to satisfy. There was no rush, save for when the mood arrived.
As they now had all the time in the world that Optimus ruled.
Carefully, almost fearfully, he reached out to grip Starscreamās wrists. There was such strength in his frame, emboldened by desire, that he risked ripping Starscreamās arms off in his haste to finally have Starscream in his arms.
Sparks jumped between them, and Optimus swallowed down a moan as electricity transferred from seeker to Prime. The pain was negligible compared to the pleasure sizzling through his circuitry. He was feeling as Starscream was, and the two of them joined in a way the matrix would never allow. In a way, they could have always been, had Megatron not seduced the seeker away.
Were Optimus any less the possessive, avaricious beast Starscream believed him to beāhe would have taken the seeker here in the audience chamber. So that all present, and those not, would know who had finally grounded their planetās brightest star.
A quick yank unlatched the wires around Starscreamās wrists from the magnets, forcing them high. His seeker panted, canopy heaving as terror briefly surpassed enmity. Though the trembling never stopped, even as Optimus held the smaller mech close to his chassis, switching his grip to cradle the seeker as best he could without bending sensitive wings.
No words of comfort were whispered to calm Starscreamās flickering ember. His prize knew what the Prime intended for him. What his fate would be after the destruction of his home city and declaration of animosity. From potential partner to inevitable prize.
Without looking away from his seeker, the order echoed out, āDismissed.ā And the crowd dispersed. Only a few officers were bravely stupid enough to linger in the large doorway, staring enviously at the conquest in Optimusās arms.
The Prime basked in their impotency until the armored doors ended their deluded voyeurism.
Starscream, densely armored and reformatted for war, was near weightless in Optimusās arms as he marched past the throne and toward the roomās royal exit. Only ever treaded by a Prime. It scanned green over his chassis, covering Starscream in its hideous color. Recognizing the matrix, an unseen door lifted to reveal a shimmering, gold-lined hallway.
Not a glance was given to the jewels embedded in its walls as he walked briskly toward his chambers, fervent red optics never leaving the treasure held within his arms.
Unable to defy himself now that the only witness was a glossa he could freely cut, the Prime began to ramble his unbridled ardor.
āI will bring you to my chambers, unbind youāand you will fight me. Even knowing it is what I wish. You will fight me. You will resist, and I. Will. Take. You.ā He pressed his faceplate into the crook of Starscreamās neck. Drinking in the thick cloud of ozone surrounding them. Savoring the scent of pain. āI will crush your wrists. Claim my wings. Never again will you dare to belong to another.ā
Finally, his seeker spoke, vocals scratching and static-laden. āYouā¦are a monster.ā
A weak insult that Optimus had learned to relish. Something that might have been a chuckle caused his chassis to shake. It had been so long since heād last truly laughed, the Prime could no longer recall the sound.
āWe are what we must be,ā he affectionately rumbled. āI, a monster. You, mine.ā
new @deaddovesummer request! Man, it has been a hot minute since I wrote some good old man necron yaoi! I don't know if I necessarily delivered on the order...but this is where my mind went. Banging it out in the Grimdark Future.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/87210146
Except below the cut
āI feel nothing, Trazyn. Thatās the worst part. All of this used to anger me. Now I reach for that rage and it isnāt there. We sold our future. Itās gone.ā
Trazyn could not argue. It was true. They were a dying race. Slowly dying, yes, but each casualty of war was a life they could never replace. Nothing would change that. Not Szerasā bizarre experiments, not The Silent Kingās mad quest to restore their souls. They were a race in an hour glass, each death falling down and counting down towards their destruction.
āHow is it those filthy mortal races have what we cannot achieve?ā Orikan snapped.
Trazynās coreflux pulsed as he considered the images that question conjured. It would be a lie to say he had not had his own motives in coming to the Stormlordās crownworld. Particularly when there was a chance to pursue moreā¦intimate desires. The ones the star gods had attempted to take from them, but that through stubbornness and spite, a few had rediscovered. Trazyn and his despised astromancer more than most, he guessed. His neurals started connecting, wondering if, since they had reclaimed one pleasure, they could claim another.
He climbed on top of Orikan, straddling his hips and tracing a sharp, metallic finger down the cartouche on Orikanās chest. Orikan shivered, pressed his palms against Trazynās thighs and tried to push him off, though he stroked the warm metal with cold hands, drawing him in just as much as he pushed him away.
In an attempt to romanticize the city I live in, I wrote a fic set there. Nonbinary reader/some version of Willem Dafoe's character J.G. Jopling from Grand Budapest Hotel, whose first name/alias I have imagined as Jay. I am also counting this for the "intoxication" square of the @deaddovesummer prompt list.
You live in a small city that isnāt quite in the south, though sweet tea is still available almost everywhere. Now, in June, the greenery wars with concrete in all planes, and the air is muggy, and the sun beats down like a hot-light on gas station pizza. You start to sweat even on the short trip from your office to your car, and then your car to your air-conditioned apartment.Ā
When you get inside, your lover is in the kitchen, making pelmeni. His bony fingers fold little purses of dough around a paste of meat and onion. āYouāre late,ā he comments, sounding more amused than annoyed.Ā
You take the dishes out of your lunchbox, wash them, and put them up in the drying rack next to the sink. āI made a stop on the way home. Something to help us both relax. Since itās Friday, and all.ā
He raises his eyebrows. You hold up the little bag of THC gummies.Ā
Once heās folded the pelmeni, he boils them, and then fries them in butter until theyāre browned and crispy. He eats his pelmeni with sour cream, and you eat yours plain, gulping ice water in between bites.Ā
The project youāve been working on at work for weeks without clear direction has swollen and sprouted tentacles beneath your fingers. And Jay has been waking up in the middle of the night more often recently, breath fast and panicky.
āShall we?ā you ask, once the dishes are done and the leftover pelmeni put away.Ā
āVery well, then.ā Jay takes a gummy from your fingers with his mouth. It is bright blue.Ā
āChew it and itāll kick in faster. Itāll be less intense since weāve just eaten.ā You pop one as well.Ā
You flop down on the couch (more of a loveseat, really, but as wide as would fit in your narrow living room), and he sits beside you. You skritch at the graying hairs at the nape of his neck and he allows his eyes to fall closed. An alligator of a man, your Jay. Or a particularly well-trained wolf. His breath comes slow and even.Ā
āI saw a TikTok today of these two girls who got 100,000 steps in one day,ā you say idly. āAll the comments were pointing out how wild it was that they did that without even putting their hair up. All I was thinking was that they picked a route that wasnāt shaded. Thereās so many nice walking paths in the world.āĀ
Jay hums thoughtfully. āAs we well know.ā
You look over at him, see the glint in his eye. āOh, no.ā
āA hundred thousand steps in a day? I could do that.ā
āI donāt doubt it. How long do you think itād take?ā
āI donāt know. The last time I walked all day, I wasnāt exactly wearing a pedometer.ā
You furrow your brow. āWas it a relaxing experience?ā
He shrugs. āIt wasnāt on a very pleasant walking path.ā Heās silent for a moment, remembering. He doesnāt tell you about his past often. Then he cracks a smile and puts his arm around your shoulders. āI love you,ā he says, and then he giggles, honest-to-god giggles. āDo you ever think about how funny it is that I lived all over Europe and now Iām here?āĀ
āI donāt know if itās funny. I think Iām lucky. Because I love you, too.ā
āCertainly lucky. But unlikely.ā He sighs, lets his head fall back. āOh, you Americans. And your gas stations. And your ridiculous beverages. I only forgive you because youāre so beautiful.āĀ
Now you laugh, too. āMe, or the country?ā The edibles are kicking in. Your head feels floaty.Ā
āBoth.ā
You kiss him, and he kisses back, messily, open-mouthed. You put your hand on his upper thigh, and he inhales sharply. This is unusual for him.Ā
āAre you in the mood?ā you ask. He nods. His eyes are pink.Ā
Jayās libido is a dust-bowl thunderstorm: it comes suddenly, rolling, blackening the sky, flattening the yellow grass with its gusts, and you go out on the porch to witness it, breathing in the scent of it, the lightning lingering behind your eyelids even after you close them.Ā
He takes your hand, kisses it, and inserts your first two fingers into his mouth. You hook them over his teeth, petting the strange mollusc of his tongue, and tug him closer.Ā
Heās almost on top of you now, petting your sides, fingers tugging at the waistband of your jeans.Ā
āBed,ā you say, and pull your fingers out of his mouth again.Ā
On the bed, you kiss messily, rutting against each other, until he manages to drag your pants down off your waist, and you slide your saliva-slick fingers over the entrance to your cunt. He mouths over your chest.Ā
āYouāll have to take your pants off if you want to fuck me,ā you say.
He seems to find that enormously funny. āOh, right,ā he says, as he gets his pants down, giggling.Ā
His cock, an unreliable beast at the best of times, is already hard. You wonder if this is a side effect of the particular strain that the label didnāt warn you about, or if this is something about him, if loosening him has this effect in general. He holds his liquor like a stone, a skill youāve never possessed. After one margarita at dinner youāre flushed and giggling, and he rests his chin in his hand to listen fondly as you talk.Ā
Now heās on top of you again, kissing you.Ā
āReady?ā you ask, and he nods desperately.Ā
āPlease,ā he gasps as you guide his cock to your entrance and let him thrust inside. āWarm. Youāre warm.āĀ
You hang on to his shoulders for the ride as he fucks you, legs splayed.Ā
Usually he fucks you slow and careful, aiming precisely, unhurried, seeming to draw his pleasure as much from watching you come undone as from the sensation. But tonight heās chasing something.Ā
He is sterile. Had a vasectomy young. An odd word, sterile, as if being unable to get a child on you makes him cold and unfeeling. His spend is still warm.Ā
After he cums he collapses down on top of you. āI didnāt think I would be able to do that,ā he admits. āEverything feels.. Fuzzy.ā You shift him a little so you can reach down between your legs, but your hand feels like it weighs a million pounds, and your thighs do too, and your head is spinning.
āWill you make me cum in the morning?ā you ask.
āOf course.ā He takes a deep breath, in and out. āI could murder a box of crackers right now.ā
āOh, fuck, me too. And water.ā You do your best puppy-dog eyes. āWill you bring me my water bottle? And the crackers?
Jay nods and clambers off the bed. He trots into the other room and comes back with your water bottle and a box of crackers. You take the bottle and drink thirstily. He gets back down on the bed, and you pass him the crackers.Ā
āDo you feel more relaxed?ā he asks.
āI do. Do you?ā
āI do.ā He chews thoughtfully, and takes a drink from your water bottle. āWould you be willing to bring me provisions? If Iām walking 100,000 steps in a day?ā
ā
Two weeks later, at five thirty in the morning, you give Jay a ride to the walking path ten minutes from your apartment. Heās wearing jogging pants and a thin sweatshirt, sunglasses and a hat, and a light backpack with a water bottle in it. The fancy fitness watch on his wrist will measure his steps. A gift you got him last Christmas.Ā
He kisses you goodbye, his fingertips light on your cheek, and turns to begin his walk.Ā
The walking path runs along an old railroad, flat and straight, mostly shaded by trees, crisscrossing suburbs and fields from one end of town to the other. Very pleasant. Youāve walked it many times before, alone and with Jay, but never more than an hour or two at a time.Ā
As he walks, you go home and go back to sleep. His pillow still smells like him.Ā
At noon you meet him across town for lunch. āForty-six thousand,ā he says, grinning. āMy feet are getting sore.āĀ Heās shirtless, as the temperature climbed above seventy-five.Ā
You hold out the bottle of sunscreen.Ā
āWould you do it?ā
āTwist my arm, why donāt you,ā you say, and squirt some into your palm.Ā
He turns his back and lets you rub it into his shoulders. You admire him as you do, his shoulders, his biceps, the narrowing of his back as it approaches his waist. Heās not a bulky man, but you can feel muscle beneath his thin skin and sparse gray hair.Ā
Youāre alone in the trail parking lot. He turns to let you touch his chest as well, your hands lingering down near his hipbones. You tilt your head up to kiss him. He scrapes his hands across your palms to collect the lingering sunscreen and puts it on his face and neck.Ā
You join him for the next segment of the walk. He sets a quick pace, but not too fast for you to keep up. The treeline opens up and youāre walking past a soybean field, the green leaves rippling in the wind, shining like the mirrored surface of the ocean.Ā
āWhat are you thinking about?ā he asks.Ā
āWork,ā you admit. āAnd the breeze. I like the breeze.ā
He nods.Ā
āHow about you?ā
āI like the breeze, too.āĀ
You walk for a few minutes in silence.Ā
āDo you remember when I told you about falling off a cliff?ā
āYes.ā Of course you remember. The skiing, the crevasse, the reason heās missing a toe on his left foot.Ā
āAfter I fell, I crawled through the snow all evening and all night. It was too deep to get my footing. I had no idea where I was or whether I had a chance of surviving at all. I ate snow. I might have hated the mountain, or the men who put me there, but I didnāt. I thoughtā¦ in my mind, I was them. The mountain, and my employer, and my employerās enemies. I was all of them, and myself, and no one.āĀ
āWas that comforting?ā
He shrugs. āIt was what it was.ā
āAnd now? How do you feel now?ā
āMy feet are sore. One benefit of being half-frozen back then was that I couldnāt feel my feet.āĀ
After forty-five minutes you turn back, leaving him to continue on alone with trail mix and a refreshed water bottle.Ā
He calls you past seven oāclock.Ā
āIām close,ā he says into the phone. āI got to the end of the trail and turned back. Will you pick me up at mile ten in about fifteen minutes?ā
āYouāre almost at a hundred thousand?ā
āYes.āĀ
You find him sitting in the grass by the trailhead, stretching his legs. The sun is behind the trees. He holds up his wrist. 100,829.Ā
āHoly shit! You did it!ā
āI did it!ā He takes your hand and lets you pull him to his feet. He pulls on the clean shirt you brought, then drinks thirstily from the water bottle you brought as he ducks into the car. āI believe a trip to Chiliās is in order?ā
āIām down.ā You turn on the engine. āHow do you feel?āĀ
He hums. āGood. Itās nice. Quiet. It was nice to have a goal.āĀ
The parking lot of Chiliās is as crowded as always, but inside, most people are finishing their meals and leaving. The hostess leads you to a booth for two and you slide in across from each other.Ā
You have an affection for Chiliās, even though it seems like much too ordinary of a place for as extraordinary a man as Jay. But maybe thatās just what youāre telling yourself. Maybe thatās what ordinariness is.Ā
Your stomach growls. Itās sensory overload, the sounds of conversation and sizzling fajitas, smells of fried food, shiny menu photographs of the food and alcohol on offer. āOrder whatever you like, sweetheart,ā you tease. āIām buying.āĀ
āIām glad I got my cardio in.ā He runs a hand back through his hair. āI need to keep trim for my husband if I want him to keep putting down his credit card.ā
You blush so hard at that you canāt even read the menu.Ā
Perchance some MegOp gun/weapon play? Maybe Optimus recieves a creation day gift during an Autobot party celebrating him on earth. And it's a toy replica of Megatron's gun alt. Only it's really a scheme by the Decepticons for Megs to sneak intot the base and...do something. Their plan kind of started and stopped at infiltration.
Optimus takes the gift to his room, thinking someone was pranking him. And uses the gun in questionable ways. (Doesn't have to be noncon, Megs could be VERY into it once he realizes what is happening). Up to you!
this prompt is insane in the best way, what a joy this was to write XD
Preview below, full fic is here on AO3
Optimus had no idea why the party had left him so exhausted. As a commander, he really should not mind being the center of attention as much as he did. Still, his fatigue was a satisfied one. His tanks were full, his Autobots were happy, and for the first time in ages he could honestly say heād had a bit of fun.
He refused Jazzās help in getting his gifts back to his hab suite. They werenāt heavy, and the boxes stacked neatly once their wrapping was gone. Optimus cued up a mental command to open the door and it slid out of his way, allowing him inside to the quiet of his sitting room.
Once he placed the boxes down on the table, he debated putting them away immediately, but his aching struts yearned for his berth. Recharge first then. It was already late, and he couldnāt miss the morning command meeting.
As he headed towards his berthroom, one of the boxes called him back. The toy gun. His spark stung. There was no way the twins could have known how many memories that object would bring up. The faint thrill that refused to leave him. All the things heād done with the mech in that exact form millennia ago. Things that haunted his recharge cycle and still managed to send a charge straight to his array.
Megatron had been so passionate. He had been daring, dangerous, and everything a young Orion had thought he wanted. It was all in the past now. He knew they would never get it back, and he couldnāt afford to indulge when he had a war to fight against that same former friend and lover.
Then againā¦it was his forgeday.
Optimus reached into the box and took out the fake gun. He rushed to his berthroom, shutting the door behind him and engaging every available lock. The weight of the gunās frame pressed against his palm. His finger inched towards the trigger.
As he lay down, he debated removing the orange cap but decided against it. A little distance was probably healthy. A reminder of where he was. Who he was. That this was only a little indulgence and nothing more.
Slowly and sensuously, Optimus placed his lips against the barrel of the gun and dragged his glossa upward.
For the dead dove summer prompts šļø: I will love to see skystar in one of this prompts bondage, mummification or tentacles anything that has starscream restrained will be awesome, please.
You have to know that you were enabling me.
Sample below, read the whole fic on AO3
Starscream took a chisel from his subspace and collected some of the rock, while taking plenty of image captures of the site. They could go over his findings tonight. Together. In close proximity.
Damn it. Why had he thought going on an expedition alone with Skyfire was a good idea?
As he sent copies of his image captures back to Skyfire, a shimmer of light passed over his shoulder. He spun around, sensors working to try and determine what heād seen. A trick of the heat? Most likely, but his plating still flared. He had a bad feeling. But he wasnāt a coward, so he shook off his nerves and went back to his work.
When he sensed movement again, he spun and said, āWho goes there?ā
No answer. Starscream stomped towards the base of one of the rock formations, switching to different visual filters to figure out what he was sensing. There might be an native species here? Or a visual trick? Something to do with the rocks?
When he rounded the corner his spark jumped into his intake. In the flat area sat a large, round ship. What was a ship doing here? Then he realized why it looked familiar, and immediately activated his thrusters to take off.
Something curled around Starscreamās ankle and yanked him down to the ground. His back collided with the rocks. The impact sent a jolt through his processor. Before he could recover, more tendrils wrapped around his legs, his arms, one wing, and around his waist.
Frantically he struggled and his arms were stretched above his helm and held together. His legs were dragged apart and his attempts to burn his captor off with thruster fire just caused them to yank hard enough to nearly dislocate his leg from his hip joint. Finally, the hazy shapes came into focus. Tall, round, armored, with tentacles falling from their floating forms. Two large, ominous faces leered down at him.
Starscream snarled. Quintessons, cloaked so he hadnāt seen them before.
āLook at this,ā the one holding his arms and crushing his waist said. āThere was indeed a Cybertronian on this planet.ā
āHow lucky for us,ā said the other, taller and more oblong where the other was rounder. It lifted a limb towards Starscreamās face, tracing the tip along his cheek.
The tendril wrapped tightly over his mouth, silencing his protests.
āOh dear, itās voice is annoying,ā said the first. āI donāt know if I want to keep this one, Monatus.ā
āVoices can be changed, Nerus. Besides, the ones with wings are my favorite. And look at the colors. This one is quite exquisite when itās quiet.ā
Starscream squirmed, but he could barely move as the two Quintessons wrapped their limbs around him. His tanks lurched. He tried to scream, but he could make little noise besides a muffled whimper.Ā
āNow,ā Nerus said. āThereās supposed to be another one, isnāt there?ā
Skyfire! Starscream had to warn him. He activated his comms, frantic to send a message.
āSkyfire! Skyfire, come in. Emergency. Qāā
Pain erupted from the side of his helm. When the static cleared from his vision he saw the taller Quintesson holding a small prod in its tendril. Electricity arced between the two prongs. Theyād blown out his comm relay!
āNone of that,ā Monatus said, smirk widening. āCome, letās get it secured inside. Then we can search for the second.ā
No, no! The pair lifted Starscream and started dragging him towards the ship. No matter how he struggled, they just held him tighter.Ā
āNmph. Mmph, grmph!ā
His back arched as he struggled vainly, and the door of the ship opened.
There is a light and dark side for all sorts of tastes. Feel free to send in ask requests, follow, or even join and submit your own works. It's a free event for everyone, just make sure you follow the rules and TAG YOUR STUFF. šļøāØ
Dead Dove Summer 2026, a casual bingo fan event for kinky, dark and taboo topics! Run By StarlightCaptivator- Strictly 18+ ONLY
Square- Objectification
Couple - Starscream x Bumblebee
Warning: Objectification, implied dark themes, mind control/manipulation, Stockholm syndrome.
The waiting was the worst part.Ā
Despite knowing he shouldnāt, Bumblebee couldnāt help tapping the tips of his fingers together. The little āTink! Tink! Tink!ā helped sooth his nerves in the dimly light habsuite. He had already gone through the usual self soothing ways to try and combat his twitchy nerves. Counting ceiling tiles, there were 56. Tracing the rivets on the floor that ran from one side of the room to the other. Reciting the Cybertronian Gylph Grid back to front.Ā
Short of just sitting up and taking a walk, Bumblebee waited on the cold ground in his āspotā. It was the spot he knew to lay down in when his Owner wanted to play when he got back. The other would be disappointed in him if he didn't obey.
His fingers stopped their tapping as a new sound filled the room, it was the habsuiteās door lock. Stopping his fidgeting, Bumblebee let his body go limp, side pressed against the floor as he let gravity pull his full weight down. The door opened with a āFwooshā, signaling a figure entering the room. A pair of thruster decorated feet entered, stopping at the entry way.
There was a click and the lights brightened, causing Bumblebee to squint and blink to readjust. But as the feet started across the room and the door closed, he willed them to stop, holding his breath. A sort of nervous energy shot like lightning up his body, causing his spark to spin faster. One of his fingers twitched.Ā
āWhat the-?ā The feet stopped just an arm's length away. If Bumblebee reached out he could capture the foot, wrap his hand around the ankle and pull the individual onto the floor with him. But he waited, holding his breath as the figure crouched, pushing his side so his face turned upwards.
āI swear, if someoneās been touchingĀ myĀ thingsā¦ā Starscream scowled as he reached down and picked the fallen Bumblebee off the ground. He held the smaller bot in both hands at arms length, examining the stock still autobot for any damage.Ā
āThey should know better than to mess with my āStuffyā.ā The flight commander purred and pulled the yellow bot close, wrapping his arms around the prone figure and humming to himself. Starscream felt warm, his body heat quickly warming Bumblebee from his long wait on the cold floor.Ā
āItās alright, Iām here now. Iām sorry you had to sleep on that cold cold floor. Here, let's get you back in bed.ā Starscream lightened his hold as he adjusted the smaller bot, carefully placing him on top of the duvet that covered the sleeping slab.Ā
When this had all first started, Bee had been enraged by the treatment. Picked up and moved around like nothing more than a toy. Forced to play by Starscreamās rules or suffer. Thinking back on it now, waiting was actually not the worst part. The loneliness and cold used to be the worst. Back before Bumblebee knew how to play the game.
As he sank down into the plush material, processor going a little gooey from the warmth of the otherās frame and now the softness of the covers, Bee knew he had made the right choice in giving in to the Starscreamās demands. He desperately wanted to reach out and pull the Seeker down with him, but he had to wait. That wasnāt how this game was played.Ā
Starscream busied himself with adjusting the material around Bumblebee, grinning as he made a mockery of a proper nest around the āStuffyā. āThere we go, all nice and cozy.ā He reached down and gently tapped the tip of Beeās nose. āOh, I almost forgot. Canāt forget yourĀ accessories.ā Starscream reached into the nightstand next to the slab, pulling open a drawer filled with all sorts of things. Most of which made Beeās mouth water. The seeker pulled out a grey and black ring, a stasis collar.Ā
Bee held his breath as the collar was fitted around his neck, locking into place with a soft āclick!ā. Instantly he felt his body go limp on its own, limbs dragged down until they were flush to the bed as he now found them too heavy to lift. Fuzzy feelings started to lick at his processor, a familiar buzz ringing in his ear as the collar reached full power before going silent. He was unable to lift his limbs, his hips, even his head. All the while Starscream was grinning down at him, drinking in the sight of the now helpless autobot.Ā
Ā āNow with that settled, stay right there and donāt move while I wash off, itās been a rather long day.ā Starscream reached back down and gently turned Beeās head, directing his eyeline to the closed private washrack. A clawed talon slowly slid down his cheek before it left, making Bee feel cold and alone once again despite the plushness surrounding his frame. He wanted to reach out and take that warm hand again, nuzzle it, but his body couldnāt.
Starscream turned and walked to the private washrack door, itās door swishing open to reveal a decently stocked washrack. It had taken a while, but Bumblebee still felt pride swell up in him as he thought back to the day Starscream trusted him enough to have access.Ā
The washrack door stayed open, giving the yellow bot a glance inside. Starscream quickly stepped under the nozzle, tapping in a few buttons to get it to the temperature he preferred before solvent began to pour out.Ā
Steam quickly rose from the shower as the solvent hit Starscreamās body, rolling off that tri-colored plating. Bumblebee could only lay still and watch as the other bathed himself, taking a rag to buff and wipe at his armor. Moisture began to accumulate in the autobots mouth as he watched Starscream twist and turn to rub at spots along his frame. How his hands worked in between the seams from his arms, down to his feet. Bending over to give an enticing view of his back plate from across the room.
Bumblebee could only stare as the other popped his spike plating, giving a breathy moan just loud enough to be heard over the splattering solvent. Star took his spike in hand and worked the rag up and down, giving it a few lazy teasing pumps before pulling away to wash at his thighs and back up to his chest. Following the rag, Bumblebee felt his face heat as he caught a glimpse of that coy grin the seeker was trying to hide behind the cloth.
By now Bumblebeeās valve was well lubricated, his spike pinging request after request to pop out from behind his panel. But the stasis collar wouldnāt allow it.Ā This wasnāt how the game worked.Ā
Bumblebeeās entire body gave an involuntary shutter as the shower was turned off. He tried to focus on the wall to Starscreamās right as the seeker dried himself, making sure none of the solvent followed him out. By now the room was warm, creating a cozy contrast from earlier.
āA quick polish and time for bed.ā Starscream spoke aloud, Bumblebee unsure if it was being directed at him or the seeker himself. The sound of the polish buffer filled the room along with the heavenly aroma of the Seekerās typical polish. An almost fresh pine mixed with lavender, Beeās favorite. The aroma mixed with the warm atmosphere of the room, tucked into the nest of blankets, sent the smaller botās head spinning into a warm mess.
His body tightened, valve the only thing able to twitch as the stasis collar kept him at bay. Oh how he wanted to spring up and barge into the wash rack, bury his face into the seekerās chest and never come back up for air. Put his hands on those devilishly divine hips and take Star up against the warm wash rack wall, burying his spike into that plush valve. Maybe if he was a good Stuffy he would get a treat later? Starscream as always in a better mood after a few overloads.
The buffer powered off, itās slowing āwhiiiirl!ā bringing Bumblebee out of his lust filled day dream. Bumblebee made sure to relax his body as Star exited the wash rack, its door closing behind him. His eyes tracked the seeker as he pittered around the habsuite, flicking on a soft dimmed table lamp, going back to the door to turn off the lights, and picking up a data pad before slipping into bed next to him.Ā
āFinally, some alone time. Primus knows I donāt get enough time to read trying to keep all of Cybertron from imploding in on itself.ā Starscream chuckled as he got into a comfortable position, back and wings pressed flat against the wall, resting on top of the duvet cover with a thigh barely touching one of Beeās hips. The seeker turned on the datapad and dropped his hand, idly petting the top of the still prone scoutās yellow head.
With the mix of gooey processor and gentle pettings, Bumblebeeās mind was a complete mess. all earlier nerves and thoughts gone as he laid there, prone and immobile. He didnāt even notice his engine began to rumble, desperately wanting to lean into the the seekerās petting. Starscream must have taken note of the rumbles as his hand came to a full stop, shifting as he peered down at the yellow mech.
āNow, what's this?Ā StuffyāsĀ donāt make rumbles.ā Bumblebee froze, rumble dying as the Seeker set his datapad on the night stand. With the lamp casting a shadow over the other from this angle, all Bee could make out were his red optics and outlining of his helm. Hands were on him in an instant, the yellow bot unable to even make a sound as he was man handled into the otherās lap. He sat in Starscream's lap, back pressed against the seekerās chest.
āHow odd, I donāt remember putting a vibrator in this Stuffy.ā Bee felt the nerves back as a clawed fingertip slipped under his chin, forcing his head back to look up and gain eye contact with Starscream. The other smirked as he gently moved his clawed fingertip, scratching the yellow scout under his chin.
āMy sweet Stuffy.ā Starscream purred, putting his face closer to the smaller botās. Those red optics were hungry.Ā Ā
There was a flurry of movements as Starscream flipped them, pushing the yellow bot into the plush fabric of the duvet, looming above him with his wings fully extended.
āAh, look at howĀ sweetĀ my Stuffy is. Waiting for me all day. Iām sure it gets so lonely without me here.ā Starscream cooed, using his clawed fingertip to once again go under Beeās chin, but this time slowly dragged it down the autobotās font. He would dip and brush any seam along the way, searching for any spots that had yet to be discovered. Finally, it stopped on Beeās modesty panel, rubbing gently against the warming metal.
āWhat a wonderful little doll, I definitely made the right choice in getting you.ā The seeker gave a wolfish grin as he moved his claw around, digging into the seams between the modesty panel and the scoutās legs, searching for something.
Bumblebee felt his frame was on fire as the seeker explored, eyes welling up with unushered tears as he couldnāt so much as lift an arm to try and stop the other. To beg him not to tease. Finally the claw snagged something, sending Bumblebeeās panel open with a loud āShink!ā. Both his valve and spike popped out of their housing, the air cooling his overheated array.
Bumblebee felt his body give a small shudder, closing his eyes to try and will himself to keep still and be quiet. Be quiet, donāt move. That's how the game worked. Followed the rules, get rewarded. Break them and be alone.Ā He knew these rewards and consequences well.
āOh would you look at how darling that is. Such aĀ cuteĀ little spike.ā Starscream chuckled, using two fingers to gently circle the tip, running them down the underside and stopping at the outer rim of the valve. āAnd such aĀ naughtyĀ looking valve. Those toy makers should be ashamed of themselves.ā Star used a single digit to gently push one of Bumblebeeās valve lips aside, gently blowing air into the now exposed protoflesh.
Bumblebee felt his face and body explode into flames, processor still caught in that gooey feeling from before and now downright shame. Starscream was calling his spike ācuteā, degrading it to nothing more than an extra feature. And his valve, now completely soaked and twitching, was on full display. Shame filled him, making the yellow mech wanting to move his hands and cover his shame. But the stasis collar kept him still and compliant,Ā like a good toy.
āItās okay now. You're my Stuffy, and I take care of my toys.ā Starscream promised before moving further down the bed. He got between Bumblebeeās thighs, idly stroking the spike as he played with the twitching valve. Bee felt his processor start to melt further, the nerves from before now fully blown away. That's right, Star took care of his toys, he would take care of him.Ā He would be taken care of.Ā
A finger gently pushed past his wet lips, breaching the inside of his valve. Bumblebeeās vents gave a stutter as he was taken by surprise by the sudden intrusion. Starscream stopped, finger heavy and warm inside.
āOooh, did I find the ON switch?ā Star slid the finger in deeper before curling it, pushing against the valveās ceiling. Beeās frame jerked, trying to gasp but nothing came out. The clawed talon hooked inside, tip threatening to pierce the ceiling. Tears began to well behind his eyes, wanting to beg. But he wasnāt sure if it was to stop or stop teasing.
Starscream finally uncurcled his finger and worked it in and out. He reached for the autobotās weeping spike, firmly grasping the base and working it like he had his own in the wash rack.
The curling was in time with the pumps he gave Beeās spike. All the yellow bot could do was silently cry, a few whimpers able to break through. As a second finger slipped in with the first, his frame gave another jerk, hot white shame and bliss flooded Beeās processor as he overloaded. His valve cycled down, trying to suck the finger deeper as his spike spluttered, shooting thick globs of lavender with enough force to hit his own chest, cover Starscreamās hand, and run down both their plating in lazy rivets.
Bumblebee wanted to cry and trash as that deliciously warm hand left his spike, the seeker bringing the soiled hand to his face. Starscream examined his hand and leaned forward to give it an experimental lick, running his tongue over lavender stained digits. Bee stared wide eyed at the lewd scene, wishing desperately he didnāt have the collar on so he could also get a taste.
āWhat a mess Iāve made. Not only do I have to clean this up now, I have to refill my Stuffy.ā Starscream tutted, clearly talking to himself and ignoring Bee who laid beneath him, blue eyes brightening at the word ārefillā. Bee felt his processor fizzle as two fingers, still deep in his valve, gave an exploratory curl.Ā
āI wonder, where is your fluid intake? Canāt have my Stuffy running on empty.ā Starscream hummed as his fingers began to slide back and forth, this time slower and more methodical. The digits smoothed and glided around his valve, touching nodes deep in him. After coming off his first overload Bee was feeling the world slip away, the stimulation lulling him back into that warm fuzzy haze. Everything felt warm and fluttery, the slight pressure sending him deeper into his own processor.
Yes yes,Ā he was a good Stuffy. He was Starscreamās Stuffy. Starscream took care of his toys. He would take care of him.
Bumblebee choked on a silent moan as a third finger was added, the digits now pressing firmly into the ceiling of his valve. Right on a spot only they knew, one the sadistic seeker loved to toy with like the buttons on a remote. Pleasure shot through Beeās array, spike inflating quickly like a balloon as his valve gushed a new wave of lubricant down his channel and coating the otherās fingers.Ā
āThere it is. Now let's see the best way for me to get my spike in.ā Starscream turned Bumblebee onto his side, straddling one leg and throwing the other over his shoulder. Bee was unable to turn his face away from the plushness of the duvet at the new pose, feeling his air ways being constricted by the new position. Starscream stretched the leg fully to have it hooked over his shoulder, using both hands to pull the prone autobot closer all the while grinning as his spike lined up perfectly to the now gaping valve.Ā
āSo cute and sweet, just for me.ā Starscreamās engine gave a rumble, using his thumb to rub a circle into the smaller mechās hip in a soothing manner. The words sent Bumblebeeās frame to relax in the hold, vision starting to swim as the gooey heat came back full force. Beeās eyes rolled into the back of his head as the spike slowly breached his valve, pushing past the lips and sliding in almost hilt deep in one go. His prone body was jostled as Star jerked his hips in, making sure his spike was fully inside.
āThats it, take it all.Ā Oh by the Thirteen.ā Starscreamās moan came out breathy and low, hips swirling to make sure the spike nestled nicely inside the gushing valve. Moving a hand up to the lifted leg, the seeker used the leverage to pull his hips back before giving a sharp thrust back in. Bumblebee was able to open his mouth at last, drool pooling out to wetten the fabric scrunched beneath his head.
The yellow mech wanted to sob as the spike started to move, Starscream finding a rhythm that stimulated Beeās insides. The tri-colored seeker above him grunted, rolling his hips in time with his pulling on the leg, making sure to drive deep. The wet squelching between them sounded obscene, the hot flames of shame once again trying to lick at Beeās mind.
āSuch a mess my Stuffy made. But you are nothing more than a toy, so what else did I expect? Just laying there all day for me in bed, waiting for me to come home and use you. Just for me,Ā all for me.ā Starscream picked up the pace, his wings providing that extra power to thrust until their hips fully met, smearing the fluid now pouring out of Beeās valve between them.Ā
Yes, he was Starscreamās toy. His little Stuffy. Not useful for anything but to wait in his bed all day and be used. His little spike is nothing but a cute extra feature and valve warm and wet for the Seekerās use.Ā His use, only his.Ā
Bumblebee shuttered out as he came to his second overload, fingers spasming as he tried to get them to work. He wanted to hold something, to grip something solid and ground himself to reality. But without that ability he was left with a buzzing processor and more drool pooling beneath his head. Starscream gave a few more powerful thrusts before grabbing the leg and hugging it to his chest, pulling the yellow bot impossibly deeper onto his spike as his transfluid shot out. Bee twitched and whimpered as the warm thick liquid filled him, valve cycling down to try and hold the spike in place as it pumped. Starscream was claiming him, inside and out. Just as it should be.
Despite his best effort, Starscream slipped out with a wet squelch before gently unhooking his leg, making sure to massage the hip joint as he lowered the appendage back down. Star cooed and spoke warm words as he massaged the joint, but Bumblebee couldnāt make out what they were. His processor still buzzing with the afterglow of his second overload and coming down from the warm gooey feeling still lingering in his mind.Ā
The seeker said something and moved away, Beeās spark spun faster as he saw Star leave. Why was he leaving? He wanted to go after him, to whimper and cry out, but he was aĀ Stuffy. Stuffys didnāt speak or move. They just laid there and waited for their owners to come home. Good for nothing but laying there and being what Starscream wanted, whenever he wanted. Bee closed his eyes, trying to focus on evening out his breath instead. He would wait, he would wait for Starscream. Star would take care of him.Ā
A warm rag between his thighs and gently cleaning his valve brought the yellow scout back, snapping his eyes open to look down at where Starscream had his hand. The other was soft and gentle, wiping away the mixture of transfluid and lubricant. Warmth seeped back into his array, but Bumbelbee didnāt have it in him to get his spike hard again, valve cycling slowly. He was used up.Ā
āThat's my good Stuffy. Lets move you away from the mess.ā Bee caught that, only able to brace himself by stiffening up as Starscream lifted him and set him on the other side of the duvet, on a clean side. The seeker busied himself with folding the sheet and placing another blanket down, transferring the still prone Bumblebee back over and onto the clean one. The soiled sheet was shucked to the floor, forgotten for later.Ā
After a quick scrub down of himself, Starscream quickly climbed back into the bed, circling himself around the still prone autobot. He nudged his arms around Bee, taking the smaller mech into his embrace. Bumblebee found his face smushed into the Seekerās chest, now able to fully inhale the scent he had smelled seeping from the wash rack.Ā Pine and lavender.Ā It took every once of strength he had left but he was able to snuffle his face closer, breathing that pine and lavender scent.Ā This was where he belonged.
At some point Bumblebee must have fallen asleep, curled up in the Seekerās arms, safe and warm. When he came too there was a gentle movement running up and down his back, sharpened fingertips tracing glyphs into the back of his armor. He gave a test twitch of his finger, able to now finally use it. Reaching up he checked his neck, unsure how to feel about the stasis collar, his āaccessoriesā missing from it. But a gentle push of hands had him sinking back down into the bed, Starscream petting his side before going back to tracing his back plating.
āWhat are you spelling?ā Bee knew his voice came out staticky, mind still fuzzy but slowly coming to. He couldnāt feel any shame for how he sounded, too tired to care now.
āMy Love.ā A series of glyphs were traced. āMy Spark.ā Another set gently gilded and curved into the still sensitive metal. āMy World.ā This time the glyphs were accompanied by a kiss to the top of his helm, making his frame sag back strutless into the freshly changed out duvet. Bee felt his spark spin a little faster, the words lingering in his head like a mantra. Where before he would have cringed at the possessive words, he now found comfort in them. Starscream took care of him, it was only right he got to claim him as well.Ā Spark and mind.
āYou sure like claiming what's yours, donāt you?ā Bee chuckled, sighing as he got another kiss to the helm. Starscream tightened his hold, those claws digging into his plating. But Bee felt the warmth seeping between them calming his spinning spark. This was where he belonged, this was who he belonged to. As Starscream said,Ā he took care of his toys.Ā
Starting my card for @meridianbarony's Dead Dove Summer >:D
I'm a bit on the lighter side but I will have fun with it! If anyone else still wants to join it's a super low key event that will take art and fic into a collection, hosted here https://www.tumblr.com/deaddovesummer
Perhaps a shattered glass Skyfire x Starscream for intoxication where Skyfire drugs him into thinking they live a happy little life?
Thanks for the ask! šI'm gonna use you as an example for tumblr posting :3
I'm gonna post the board I'm working off of with this square marked off:
And then here's a little snippet of the fic, with the rest under the cut! For a purely AO3 posted fic, the link would go here. :3
Lastly and most importantly the tags! I'll put a little block warnings here, and then more tags down below for blocking and finding purposes. Remember not to censor words, participants! Censoring words only makes it harder for those who don't want to see to block fic and art.
Warnings for: Mind altering intoxication, implied sexual assault, captivity, implied poisoning.
Intoxication:
There was something amiss.
Starscream peered down at his hands as he stood at his fuel prep station. They were pristine as always, shining white plating and well-oiled joints.
There was something amiss.
His hands fascinated him, the healthy finish, most of all. He felt good, healthy- and there was something amiss with that.
He'd- They'd slept in that morning, but Starscream woke up first, and wanted to do something nice for his ā¬ļøā¬ļøā¬ļøā¬ļøā¬ļøā¬ļø- No, that was wrong, Skyfire was his spouse, surely.
Skyfire kept him maintained, worked hard in their idyllic little life to keep his frail frame healthy and work for their living. If Starscream was one for finery outside of Skyfire's preference, he was sure he'd always be dripping with jewels and precious metals.
And that was wrong, somehow, a part of him whispered. There was no part of the planet that should be able to produce-
"Starscream."
Starscream jumped, sending the cube of fuel he'd been dispensing flying and clattering to disperse and spread on the floor.
It was almost devastating, to see the precious resource wasted because of him- but the vice of fear around his spark was worse-
He turned, for some reason feeling a tremble take up in his frame.
"Skyfire-" He started, but stopped, stopped by something, some process. His lover's face was placid, relieved, even if those red optics blazed down at him something fierce.
"You're out of bed." Skyfire said, casually. "Are you feeling alright?"
Starscream felt great, better than he had - had- had before, before what? It wasn't right, he knew he was sick.
He could say nothing, with the grip of dread choking him. Was he really so jumpy? Instead he nodded, not trusting of what his response could be.
Skyfire moved from him briefly to activate the cleaning drone system, and then came back to rest his huge hand in the space between Starscream's low neck and wings.
"Let me get you some fuel." He purred, before directing Starscream to their seating area.
How sweet was he? To soothe his clumsy conjunx, to make sure he was taken care of? Skyfire was telling him all the time he would do anything for him, all he needed to do was relax, and it would all be taken care of for him.
There was something wrong with it all, something askew in his world but just out of his grasp. He was a scientist so he should be able to- no, he wanted to br a scientist? But instead Skyfire was taking care of him?
He looked down at his hands and startled to find them pristine, instead of chipped and dull, and most importantly stained with the life fluids of other Cybertronians.
He could feel the impression of a sword's hilt in his hand, when a cube alighted next to his open palm. Starscream looked up and up, where Skyfire was stood over him, holding the cube between his thumb and forefinger. His optics gleamed their beautiful red, and he watched expectantly.
Starscream looked back to the cube, and took in it's deep hie as compared to Skyfire's own.
His mouth went dry, as he brought both hands to cup around it.
"This is my med-grade?" He asked weakly.
A smile spread over Skyfire's face.
"Of course, my spark." He assured warmly. "I even added that static dissipator compound you like, it should calm the spinning of that overactive pulse for you."
Starscream ruminated as fast as he could, which was glacial as compared to before- When before? Where before?- and looked back at Skyfire one more time.
The huge mech look at him intensely.
In just a split second, his expression softened back out into gentle interest.
"Something wrong, Star?" Skyfire asked placidly.
"N-no." Starscream said, and brought the cube that much closer. "I justā¦."
Skyfire motioned him to go on.
"Can- I meanā¦. Could we perhaps go flying after this? I think I would be okay to do a short flight." He glanced down at his cube and froze still, seeing an absolute look of malice pass over Skyfire's expression.
He brought the cube to his mouth and drank, feeling strongly- wrongly -SURELY wrongly, that this was his only safe motion.
It was delicious- tasted good like a drop of fuel after a long period of starvation (Why would he know what anything like starvation was like??).
He couldn't help but drink deep.
Skyfire was serene and pleased with him when he looked back up, with half the fuel down.
"Finish your fuel." His lover prompted. "And if you feel properly energized after, I would love to take you on a flight. It's a good day, when you're feeling better."
There were already prickles of discomfort sliding through Starscream's lines somehow, but for some reason so much was already less alarming, his spouse's behavior included.
He felt warm, and the warmth spread in frame in his next mouthful.
Another gulp, and the world was prettier. One more, his frame felt that much heavier, and he was relaxing, frame sunk into his luxurious couch more and more.
What could've been wrong? The cube dissipated as he finished it, and his levels pinged him back a cheery full. Skyfire took his hand in both of his, and when Starscream looked at him, he saw only beneficence.
"How are your tanks feeling?" He asked, and Starscream knew the smooth calculation in that voice was pure care, he'd never allow anything bad to happen to him.
"A little unsettled." Starscream said, though part of him felt far away, dreamy.
There was nothing amiss, Skyfire would take care of him.
"I want to fly." He admitted, and his mouth felt looser, but he felt safer. "But I don't think it's a good idea." He didn't know why he didn't think it was a good idea- probably because he was sick.
Skyfire leaned in and nuzzled his face, nipped at his jaw with unsaid suggestion. Heat flashed through his frame.
"No, my darling one." He murmured, and Starscream leaned into the contact. His interface systems could prime in a moment, for his love.
"As tempting as it is to let those filthy Deceptions peek from their holes see you so well cared for- you're all mine. Forever."
