#tf dreadwing

[suzieloveships]

I was bored part 3 (waiting for my hair to bleach edition)

Part 1 Part 2

[hugsandchaos]

It started with Starscream. Just one tired Starscream taking a nap on the floor or whatever comfy surface he can find.

Then Thundercracker came along, rudely intruding into his personal space and wrapping himself around his trineleader. The Winglord didn’t even try to push him away, knowing full well he wasn’t going anywhere, and simply accepted his fate.

Next, Skywarp found them and promptly threw himself onto both of them. He always did it, thinking that the noises they made was funny. He picked a spot, and laid down with his frame over both of them. Starscream gave a groan of irritation, but it wasn’t real enough to be taken seriously, and he let his helm fall back down so he could go back into recharge.

But then…

The rainmakers found them. Starscream had obviously fallen into recharge at this point, which is probably the only reason why they decided with a single shared look that they were suddenly exhausted and needed to lay down immediately or they’d go offline.

Ion Storm laid next to Thundercracker, careful not to disturb his wings. They all knew that if Skywarp and Thundercracker were awake and had any complaints, they’d voice them, which is why they settled down so quickly in the quiet. Nova Storm squeezed themselves between Ion Storm and Acid Storm.

Then Thrust found them.

Then Sunstorm, then Dirge, then Skyquake…

Starscream came out of recharge first. He probably wouldn’t admit it, but his optics felt much less heavier and he felt more energized than he had in cycles. He could still feel his trine mates on him and had made the almost instinctive decision to stay until they woke up when he realized that there wasn’t just warmth coming from his right and on top of him…

It was everywhere. His helm was resting on something that wasn’t there before. His legs felt crushed, not by harsh force, but by something heavy simply laying across it. His left side was pressed against by a pair of metal wings.

Quickly and carefully, Starscream sat up and maneuvered his left servo in what little space he could find to prop himself up and look around. His optics widened at the amount of seekers around him. He began running the names of every seeker he saw, even turning his helm to look over his shoulder.

Every seeker in the armada was there.

The rainmakers were sleeping on Thundercracker’s opposite side, the bot next to him was Dreadwing and Skyquake cuddling with each other, the weight on his legs was Slipstream, and the thing his helmet rested on was a cushion. It wasn’t here before.

Seeing as no one else was around, Starscream allowed himself a smile. His spark felt warm, a feeling that had become almost unfamiliar during the war.

Between how long the war had lasted, how lost he felt seeing that the decepticon cause was running itself into the ground, a strong sense of helplessness under Megatron, and his anger for what happened to Vos almost gone now, he’d nearly forgotten why he was fighting in the first place.

Starscream laid back down, careful not to disturb anyone, and began doing what he did best. He started planning. He had adjustments to make for Flight Zero.

[taterswithranch]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/79690666

:)

[sashasdoodles]

Dreadwing reference for @honor-cxde

He survived the blast but at what cost

[berracids]

Cow dreadwing 🥺🤲

A chunky big moo with the default face of ‘>:(‘ ?

You just know damn well that this seeker is one of the few who has such thick milk compared to other seekers who have sleek builds (yes the chunkier the moo moo the thicker the milk.)

Although he would try to act like he doesn’t enjoy being milked, but that usually lasts for a few minutes before he is a putty in your hands while pouting through it. But it’s alright just give his udders a few kisses and he will combust, in a good way

[rawmeknockout]

Bj for dreadwing by lower soldier? God he needs one 😩. I give you kisses 💋💋💋

Captain Dreadwing is one of the hottest mechs among the Cons, at least according to popular, albeit unofficial, polling of the masses. And as just another lowly soldier, fodder among the Decepticon ranks, you can’t help but agree. Maybe Commander Starscream would say that’s why you’re not in Intelligence, but every mech with optics can tell there’s no Decepticon alive with Dreadwing’s allure. Knockout and Starscream may fuss among themselves over who has the best coat of polish or who has the most shapely legs, but individual parts can’t touch what Dreadwing has.

It’s not just his strong build and sharp intellect, either. More than once he’s saved you and your fellow grunts from being ground into paste by the Autobots (for such a miniscule force they are unbelievably scrappy). Unfortunately, as steadfast and strong as Captain Dreadwing is, as merciful as he is with the lower ranks when it comes to whether they’ll be left behind in the heat of retreat, you know your time is short. Everyday brings new crises and new chances to be met with Optimus Prime’s axe. If you asked Shockwave he could probably give you an actual number as to your probability of survival in regards to the number of days you’ve been online, but you would really rather stay away from the cold mech in case he finds a need for a living specimen.

Yes, perhaps that’s why you’re not in Intelligence. You’re not a risk-taker. In fact, standing before Captain Dreadwing, servo to your forehelm in a respectful salute, after having just asked him to let you treat his array, is about the most risk you’ve ever taken. If you die by his hand, at least you can die without regrets. If only you could see the looks on the mechs who constantly chatter and swoon over the Captain, throw in their faceplates that you had the actual ball-bearings to ask. You’d be the talk of the energon cooler.

Dreadwing is silent and pensive for so long, you’re sure that means your time has come. You squeeze your optics shut in advance, not daring to budge from in front of his desk. Running would make it worse.

“I.. I would like that.”

You waste no time settling yourself on your knees under his desk, despite the pop-ups on your HUD warning you of dangerous overheating within your chassis. Primus above, you just hope it isn't embarrassingly obvious on your faceplate how turned on you are. Dreadwing's spike pressurizes before your optics with a daunting quickness after his panel transforms away, the bulbous head graduating in segments to a thick, rotund body before tapering slightly back at the base. Sweet Prime, he must be at least twice your size class. Your mouth fills with lubricant in anticipation, one tentative servo coming up to stroke at the very base of his spike.

Dreadwing watches you with sharp, though not unkind, optics, a heavy exvent causing his chassis to heave, as he settles back fully in his office chair. If you didn't know any better, you might think he's more nervous about this than you are. You maintain optic contact as you lean in to kiss the tip of his spike, pulling away only briefly to pepper more kisses along the outer ridge. A thin string of transfluid still connects you to his spike every time you pull back just to pucker up again, your glossa darting out to taste what wets your lips. Your optics slip closed just as you open your mouth to take the head of his spike, hollowing your cheek plates for a moment before focusing your attention on working down his shaft.

You hear and feel Dreadwing's armor rattle, a gasp and then a groan leaving his vocalizer as he watches you take his spike. He can't help when one of his servos shoots out to craddle the back of your helm, clawed digits tapping softly on the metal. Your intake flutters and threatens to close noisily around his spike, the lewd sound of your lubricant soaked intake trying to force the intrustion out filling the space in his office. He has half a processor to be worried someone will hear, but the sight of you on your knees takes too much of his attention.

The thick middle of his spike is barely past your lips before you have to stop, intake stuffed as full as it will go. Still, you hollow your cheeks and suck with fervor, bobbing your helm minutely. Dreadwing's servo goes from cradling your helm to gently, carefully, running his digits over the main bulging cable of your neck, feeling his own spike through your warm metal. He feels your intake working around him, his spike leaving and then hitting the back of your throat each time you bob your helm. Dreadwing grunts, denta grit painfully, as he resists the urge to fuck your warm, wet intake.

His helm drops back onto the headrest, his mouth open in a silent moan and optics closed, as he overloads deep into your intake. Dreadwing can't look down, doesn't have the struts to even lift his head, for several long moments. His servo clenches and unclenches in the barest twitches of his digits, as you continue to milk him through his overload. Only when you've fully pulled away does he look down, wary of making optic contact with you too soon and getting revved up again. His gaze is significantly softened, exhaustion and satisfaction clear in his expression. TIredly, almost unconsciously, his servo moves from feeling your throat cables to petting your cheekplate, thumb digit running circles under your optic.

While your face was flushed and flaring before you started, your HUD displays a more urgent overheating warning now.

[steelthroat]

Eons ago Anon sent me a request for their favorite rarepair. Today when i saved the post in drafts i lost the draft, but anon, if you're still here here's the long awaited food.

Tfp designs are evil, i spent a lot more than i thought on these... also because i created noses where there were none because- i like noses 👃

(I'll tend to other requests later)

[suzieloveships]

Dreadwing: I saw something last night that I was not supposed to see. Starscream: Knockout and Breakdown. Yeah, they do it on the main bridge sometimes. Dreadwing: What?! No, I saw Megatron using Dark Energon! Starscrem: Again?!