I was browsing through my old fanfiction folders (oh gosh, all the unfinished and un-published stuff in there dating back to 2006 and earlier o_o;;), and found an old Megatron/Starscream drabble. This was going to be part of a larger fic, but it stands pretty well on its own and I’m unlikely to finish the larger fic, so I decided to just post it…because why not?
It’s not like I haven’t been in a major Megs/Screamer mood lately, anyway. Ha, ha.
Enjoy my old fanfiction!
Pairing: Megatron x Starscream
Rating: M for non-graphic sexual situations, specifically for Transformers: Wire/Energy Play. (Honestly, I think this would likely be safe under a PG-13 rating, but I like to generally rate things harsher than they are because I’m paranoid).
Other Notes: I wrote this in January 2011 and have posted as it stood. I didn’t re-edit/re-write anything, so it’s a bit rougher than I’d like to see my writing now-a-days. It’s almost painful to look at, but I still like how it turned out. Sort of like admiring old artwork. XD
So, it seems Starscream’s bad temper and treacherous streak were mainly caused by loneliness and sexual frustration. Well, Megatron will have to fix that! Of course not without some unexpected turns and complications because nothing is ever simple with the seeker. MxSS, other pairings, sticky. Enjoy 3
[Don’t think I’d ever posted this here, so here it is.]
[[So I know like a bazillion years ago, I did a “give me a word and I’ll write a drabble about it” thing. Mulled over it for a while, pushed the prompts aside, and suddenly I’m looking through my folders and WELL HAI THERE I FORGOT ALL ABOUT YOU.
But a lot of them were rather alike—emotions that kinda run in the same sorta spectrum—so I decided to devote my time to writing one that combined them all, and what better subject to talk about than Vos? Again? XD
But in all seriousness, I’ve been meaning to clear up what exactly happened during the destruction of Vos and what to my own Starscream’s TC and Skywarp, and this covers that, along with some other things.
Here are the prompt words:
Slight hints of MegaStar, but it’s not IN YO’ FACE. And this is SFW; fic is only under a cut because it’s so long. :3]]
Fandom: Transformers: Prime
In Armada, Starscream felt each one of his clones dying as Megatron killed them. But there’s so much more potential for a psychic link like that than just Starscream experiencing terrible pain. This fic is what happens when Megatron realizes that - and decides to take full advantage of the opportunity.
ThreesomeAnon: Oh please please a MegatronxKnockoutxStarscream threesome tactile, sticky? :D
WARNING: NSFW; uhh, threesome (obviously XD); pwp; Starscream sandwich; sticky
Darling missed my drabble post, but I asked her for a prompt anyways. : ) Hope you like this, my sweet! Not sure if this is exactly what you wanted, but I tried to include everything you mentioned in here, haha!
Warning: corpses, human and animal; some violence, and…possible spoilers if you haven’t been keeping up with TFP
Time-frame: TFP, at the beginning of Season 3
“Come, Starscream. Take a walk with me.”
“A walk, master?”
“Yes.” A pause. “I tire of the festivities, but the troops have been in dire need of a reason for celebration.” A look lingered, before flickering to the horizon. “Let them have the night. We, my second, will walk.”
ahintofblue: Megatron/Screamer: lost of an arm, actual Megatron enjoying starscream’s company for the most part? Mini-angst? (Idk xD)
Notes: I guess the M/SS is more implied here than anything, as is the enjoyment of Starscream’s company, but…hope this is still okay!
Starscream was sitting on the medical berth in the far corner. His optics glowed as he stared at the wall crawling with rust, shoulders hunched and wings drooped, though his lips never lost its firm purse. His fingers twitched every once in a while, hand limp on his thigh. His other arm lay on the berth beside him, caked in the same energon that continued to ooze from the empty, charred socket at the air commander’s shoulder.
He was left alone, until those in critical care were cleared for survival. A Seeker without an arm was a lot more docile than a Seeker without a wing. However, no one dared to intrude on his company, staying well away, opting to crowd around each other rather than stray into his sight. Hook was clearly annoyed, but he said nothing. The most he has done so far had been kicking a slow-moving ground trooper out of his way, wiping vital fluids on a rag before diving elbows deep in another mech’s chassis.
The doors to the medbay swooshed open and closed. Ped-falls thudded across the floor. The crowd parted, many bowing their helms. Starscream paid the new arrival no mind, though his optics narrowed to a glare, the set of his lips tightening.
Foot-steps stopped right at the end of the Seeker’s medical berth. The visitor paused, as though waiting for an acknowledgement. It never came, so the mech turned, and sat down right beside the severed arm.
Characters/Pairings: implied Megatron/Starscream
Warnings: Discussion of mpreg and egg laying, some light violence
Summary: Starscream is acting more bizarrely than usual; Megatron goes to investigate.
Notes: This is a request fill for lifeofamadone. Hope you enjoy!
WARNING: nsfw; some violence; doing naughty things in a public place? Though there weren’t anyone around
*Can be seen as a continuation of this, or it can stand alone.*
Dedicated to lesnee, one of the sweetest, most wonderful people I’ve had the absolute pleasure of getting to know.
Hope you enjoy reading this!
Starscream was most beautiful drenched in the embrace of war. Plating caked in flaking, dried energon, the Seeker limped, hip-joint sparking with every laboured step. One of his wings was missing a tip. It trembled. His polish, gleaming still from between scratches and blackened burns, reflected the light while the appendage moved, an involuntary flutter that made the flier grit his dentae and clench his fists.
The Air Commander was visibly straining to retain an image of grace. What he did not yet understand was that the only appeal of a polished frame was the staining of its glimmer as its bearer writhe and claw through a battlefield thick with smoke and the stench of death.
Dirty, soaked in fluids, and optics blazing.