Flash Fiction Fills Take 62 Part One
a/n: First three of fourteen. Phew. This round was a challenge. Awesome! Two of these are NSFW. They are all self-edited. Some of these characters/pairings I've never written before so bear with me. And enjoy!
For yami_samuraiflo
Prompt: TFA, StrikaxLugnut, wanton destruction
Fandom: Transformers Animated. Warnings: mildly nsfw, refs sticky
They would do anything for the glory of Megatron and the Decepticons. The war had been their shining moment: fighting side by side with Lord Megatron, destroying Autobots and their Supremes, marching on the road to victory.
Defeat was a setback. A minor one. Strika had always believed this. The Decepticons would rise again and they would destroy the Autobots and reclaim Cybertron. They had only to put their faith into Megatron.
It was an easy enough task.
But Strika never forgot how those moments of glory felt. How Lugnut would come back to her with the scent of battle clinging to his frame. The smell of laserfire and charred energon and smoke would waft from his armor like a cologne. It would call to Strika's spark and zing straight to her interface.
He would be running hot, always running hot. His fans spinning at ultra-speed, his energy field a frenetic whirl of satisfaction and victory and obedience. For he served at Lord Megatron's side. Always next to their lord and master. He was an asset whose worth was beyond measure.
Strika commanded her own troops. She was one of Lord Megatron's favored generals, but she did not occupy his side as Lugnut did.
Lugnut would return to her smelling of battle and victory and Lord Megatron, the scent of his blaster discharge and the faint taste of Lord Megatron in his field.
Strika's own troops had learned to scatter when Lugnut returned to her. They'd learned to either empty the hallway or the docking bay or wherever it was Lugnut happened to find her first. Because Strika had no care for waiting.
Another victory had been won. Both she and Lugnut had survived. Lord Megatron reigned supreme. And all Strika wanted to do was celebrate.
There was only one other person for whom Lugnut would bend his knee, and it was to her. Lugnut would come to her, his helm bowed, and he would drop to a knee. He would offer her a hand and she would take it.
“Congratulations, only one,” Strika would say. “We are united again.”
“My Strika,” Lugnut would rumble, his optics gleaming up at her.
And she would smile and let her field crash down over his, as ripe with need and longing as Lugnut's was for her. After that point, there was nothing could come between them. Nothing and no one, save Lord Megatron himself, and all he ever did was give them an indulgent look. Amusement would touch his lips.
Permission granted and there was nothing to stop Strika from taking Lugnut then and there. Nothing to keep their cries of pleasure from echoing through the halls of Lord Megatron's flagship, or the sound of Lugnut singing her praises.
Yes, those were good times, Strika remembered. And she vowed they would come again. Lord Megatron would rise from the ashes of their defeat, and they would taste victory once more.
Strika was certain of it.
For SixshotAnon
Prompt: Sixshot/Ratchet, close encounter with a former killer but the war's over
Fandom: IDW, MTMTE, before EoS. Warnings: None.
He had no idea how he was going to find Drift. There was an entire universe out there to search and all Ratchet had was a vague direction and a homing beacon in the shuttle Drift had taken. Blaster had handed over both with a wink and Ratchet had responded with a growl.
Blaster had wisely backed off. Nosy fragger.
Ratchet sighed and continued on. It was exhausting to do nothing. He let the auto-pilot follow a course for the most part, which left him nothing to do in his free time but think. And Ratchet was not a fan of self-reflection.
Something beeped, stirring Ratchet from his twilight state. He rubbed at his forehelm and peered at the panel. Proximity alert. To what? There was nothing but open space for miles around.
Ratchet's shuttle bumped just as the communications panel buzzed. He startled and grasped the controls, frantically switching to manual control. He punched the accelerator, but all he managed was a grind from the engine. His entire shuttle shook. He was caught by something.
Ratchet growled and plugged into the sensors, which recognized a larger ship above his. Probably an eight to ten mech ship if he was guessing the size correctly. How it had gotten the jump on him without his perimeter sensors noticing until it was too late, Ratchet didn't know. Cloaking device maybe. His console buzzed again. He was being hailed.
He had no idea who it could be. Ratchet glared and smacked the panel. “Who the frag are you and what the frag do you think you're doing?”
The screen fuzzed with static before an image appeared, one that send shards of ice straight through to Ratchet's spark. “Is that any way to speak to someone who's offering assistance?”
“Sixshot,” Ratchet growled. He's surprised the massive mech hadn't just blown him to bits. “What do you want?”
Red optics gleamed a little brighter. “A little bit of company,” Sixshot purred. “It gets lonely out here in space.”
“Do I look stupid?”
“Now, now. The war's over, isn't it?” Sixshot makes a vague gesture. “Is there any reason for you to be so hostile toward me now?”
“I can name a few,” Ratchet growled. His entire frame was tense.
“That's the past, medic.” Sixshot's face moved closer to the expression and the volume of the transmission rose. “Can't we forgive and forget? I'm sure I can be of... assistance.”
There was something positively lewd in the way he said it, too. A shiver raced down Ratchet's backstrut and he couldn't decide, exactly, what it meant. “I suppose my survival hinges upon you hearing the answer you want to hear.”
Sixshot chuckled. “That depends on whether you choose to attack me first. I just want the pleasure of your company. Is that so much to ask?”
Ratchet frowned and didn't care that Sixshot could see it. “Fine,” he growled. “I'll play your game for now.”
"I'll extend the docking clamp," Sixshot purred. "Welcome aboard, Ratchet." The screen went dark.
Ratchet ex-vented with a shudder. He'd survived Sixshot before. Surely he could do so again.
For Anonitron
Prompt: Optimus/Starscream, let me hear you whisper
Fandom: G1. Warnings: NSFW, sticky
He woke shivering, not because he was cold, but because heat was racing through his frame to the beat of his spinning fans and pulsing spark. Charge crawled under his plating and through his lines.
Starscream moaned, his peripheral sensors clicking on one by one. But it was the reboot of his audials that provided the reason.
Optimus was whispering to him, his low vocals delineating each and every dirty thought he'd ever had. Every hot, wet, and messy sexual act he wanted to do to Starscream or receive in return. He hadn't laid so much as a hand upon Starscream, but those vocals purring in his audial had left Starscream responding on instinct.
He was more than halfway to overload and all without a single touch.
“Primus,” Starscream gasped as Optimus described, in detail, how much he would love to nuzzle his face between Starscream's thighs and lick him to overload. “Shouldn't you be recharging?”
Optimus chuckled and rested a hand on his hip, thumb stroking between a plating seam. “I was. But you presented such the delectable image that I had to share with you the thoughts you provoke in me.”
“You? Or your spike?” Starscream asked as Optimus rocked his hips and a very present, very wet spike brushed his abdomen
Not that he was opposed. Oh, no. Another spike of arousal made its way through his frame and Starscream slid his own hand down his frame, stroking the head of his own spike. It was emerging from its housing in a wet slide, charge sparkling at the tip.
Optimus nuzzled into his throat, one knee attempting to work its way between Starscream's thighs and he conceded to allow it. If only because he would enjoy opening his panel and rubbing his flushed valve down upon Optimus' thigh. He would go after his own overload and leave Optimus wanting.
Served him right for waking Starscream up.
“Both, I should think,” Optimus said. His hand slid from hip to aft to Starscream's thigh, pulling his upper leg up and over Optimus' own, baring his heated panel to the cool of the air-conditioned room.
Starscream's panel, however, stayed closed. Even when Optimus rolled his hips and rubbed the wet tip of his spike against it.
“Are you being coy?” Optimus asked.
Starscream grinned and threw an arm over the Prime's shoulders, letting his fingers tickle at the base of Optimus' neck, where clever talons could slide up and into the barely present seam of Optimus' helm. It was a sensitive spot, he knew, and was rewarded with a full frame shiver from Optimus. A low, breathless moan that highlighted the way Optimus all but melted in his arms.
“No,” Starscream said, rocking his hips toward Optimus' spike. “Just evening the odds.”
“Starscream?”
“Hm?”
Optimus' mouth traveled a hot and nibbling path up Starscream's intake and over his jaw. “Kiss me,” Optimus said.
“Well, if you insist,” Starscream drawled, and condescended to tilt his helm down and capture Optimus' mouth, sucking on the Prime's glossa and pulling it into his mouth in a mimicry of oral sex.
Optimus moaned. He pressed harder against Starscream, spike rubbing against his panel. And well, Starscream supposed he could be gracious just this once.
He triggered the panel open and let Optimus slide inside, both of them shuddering with pleasure as Optimus' spike parted the folds of Starscream's valve and their sensors lined up and latched together.
There were certainly worse ways to wake up, Starscream supposed, and then Optimus rocked into him a little deeper, grinding against his ceiling node, and all other thoughts fell away to pleasure.
Starscream wasn't complaining one bit.
a/n: Three down. Eleven to go. Phew. *wipes sweat from brow*
I've never written or read Sixshot before so apologies if I fragged up his characterization. I don't write Strika often, so again there. Starscream will forever be an unrepentant fragger and I have no shame for that. ;)
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. I do hope you enjoyed! And now I'm back to work on the rest of the flash fics.
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/295633.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
For yami_samuraiflo
Prompt: TFA, StrikaxLugnut, wanton destruction
Fandom: Transformers Animated. Warnings: mildly nsfw, refs sticky
They would do anything for the glory of Megatron and the Decepticons. The war had been their shining moment: fighting side by side with Lord Megatron, destroying Autobots and their Supremes, marching on the road to victory.
Defeat was a setback. A minor one. Strika had always believed this. The Decepticons would rise again and they would destroy the Autobots and reclaim Cybertron. They had only to put their faith into Megatron.
It was an easy enough task.
But Strika never forgot how those moments of glory felt. How Lugnut would come back to her with the scent of battle clinging to his frame. The smell of laserfire and charred energon and smoke would waft from his armor like a cologne. It would call to Strika's spark and zing straight to her interface.
He would be running hot, always running hot. His fans spinning at ultra-speed, his energy field a frenetic whirl of satisfaction and victory and obedience. For he served at Lord Megatron's side. Always next to their lord and master. He was an asset whose worth was beyond measure.
Strika commanded her own troops. She was one of Lord Megatron's favored generals, but she did not occupy his side as Lugnut did.
Lugnut would return to her smelling of battle and victory and Lord Megatron, the scent of his blaster discharge and the faint taste of Lord Megatron in his field.
Strika's own troops had learned to scatter when Lugnut returned to her. They'd learned to either empty the hallway or the docking bay or wherever it was Lugnut happened to find her first. Because Strika had no care for waiting.
Another victory had been won. Both she and Lugnut had survived. Lord Megatron reigned supreme. And all Strika wanted to do was celebrate.
There was only one other person for whom Lugnut would bend his knee, and it was to her. Lugnut would come to her, his helm bowed, and he would drop to a knee. He would offer her a hand and she would take it.
“Congratulations, only one,” Strika would say. “We are united again.”
“My Strika,” Lugnut would rumble, his optics gleaming up at her.
And she would smile and let her field crash down over his, as ripe with need and longing as Lugnut's was for her. After that point, there was nothing could come between them. Nothing and no one, save Lord Megatron himself, and all he ever did was give them an indulgent look. Amusement would touch his lips.
Permission granted and there was nothing to stop Strika from taking Lugnut then and there. Nothing to keep their cries of pleasure from echoing through the halls of Lord Megatron's flagship, or the sound of Lugnut singing her praises.
Yes, those were good times, Strika remembered. And she vowed they would come again. Lord Megatron would rise from the ashes of their defeat, and they would taste victory once more.
Strika was certain of it.
For SixshotAnon
Prompt: Sixshot/Ratchet, close encounter with a former killer but the war's over
Fandom: IDW, MTMTE, before EoS. Warnings: None.
He had no idea how he was going to find Drift. There was an entire universe out there to search and all Ratchet had was a vague direction and a homing beacon in the shuttle Drift had taken. Blaster had handed over both with a wink and Ratchet had responded with a growl.
Blaster had wisely backed off. Nosy fragger.
Ratchet sighed and continued on. It was exhausting to do nothing. He let the auto-pilot follow a course for the most part, which left him nothing to do in his free time but think. And Ratchet was not a fan of self-reflection.
Something beeped, stirring Ratchet from his twilight state. He rubbed at his forehelm and peered at the panel. Proximity alert. To what? There was nothing but open space for miles around.
Ratchet's shuttle bumped just as the communications panel buzzed. He startled and grasped the controls, frantically switching to manual control. He punched the accelerator, but all he managed was a grind from the engine. His entire shuttle shook. He was caught by something.
Ratchet growled and plugged into the sensors, which recognized a larger ship above his. Probably an eight to ten mech ship if he was guessing the size correctly. How it had gotten the jump on him without his perimeter sensors noticing until it was too late, Ratchet didn't know. Cloaking device maybe. His console buzzed again. He was being hailed.
He had no idea who it could be. Ratchet glared and smacked the panel. “Who the frag are you and what the frag do you think you're doing?”
The screen fuzzed with static before an image appeared, one that send shards of ice straight through to Ratchet's spark. “Is that any way to speak to someone who's offering assistance?”
“Sixshot,” Ratchet growled. He's surprised the massive mech hadn't just blown him to bits. “What do you want?”
Red optics gleamed a little brighter. “A little bit of company,” Sixshot purred. “It gets lonely out here in space.”
“Do I look stupid?”
“Now, now. The war's over, isn't it?” Sixshot makes a vague gesture. “Is there any reason for you to be so hostile toward me now?”
“I can name a few,” Ratchet growled. His entire frame was tense.
“That's the past, medic.” Sixshot's face moved closer to the expression and the volume of the transmission rose. “Can't we forgive and forget? I'm sure I can be of... assistance.”
There was something positively lewd in the way he said it, too. A shiver raced down Ratchet's backstrut and he couldn't decide, exactly, what it meant. “I suppose my survival hinges upon you hearing the answer you want to hear.”
Sixshot chuckled. “That depends on whether you choose to attack me first. I just want the pleasure of your company. Is that so much to ask?”
Ratchet frowned and didn't care that Sixshot could see it. “Fine,” he growled. “I'll play your game for now.”
"I'll extend the docking clamp," Sixshot purred. "Welcome aboard, Ratchet." The screen went dark.
Ratchet ex-vented with a shudder. He'd survived Sixshot before. Surely he could do so again.
For Anonitron
Prompt: Optimus/Starscream, let me hear you whisper
Fandom: G1. Warnings: NSFW, sticky
He woke shivering, not because he was cold, but because heat was racing through his frame to the beat of his spinning fans and pulsing spark. Charge crawled under his plating and through his lines.
Starscream moaned, his peripheral sensors clicking on one by one. But it was the reboot of his audials that provided the reason.
Optimus was whispering to him, his low vocals delineating each and every dirty thought he'd ever had. Every hot, wet, and messy sexual act he wanted to do to Starscream or receive in return. He hadn't laid so much as a hand upon Starscream, but those vocals purring in his audial had left Starscream responding on instinct.
He was more than halfway to overload and all without a single touch.
“Primus,” Starscream gasped as Optimus described, in detail, how much he would love to nuzzle his face between Starscream's thighs and lick him to overload. “Shouldn't you be recharging?”
Optimus chuckled and rested a hand on his hip, thumb stroking between a plating seam. “I was. But you presented such the delectable image that I had to share with you the thoughts you provoke in me.”
“You? Or your spike?” Starscream asked as Optimus rocked his hips and a very present, very wet spike brushed his abdomen
Not that he was opposed. Oh, no. Another spike of arousal made its way through his frame and Starscream slid his own hand down his frame, stroking the head of his own spike. It was emerging from its housing in a wet slide, charge sparkling at the tip.
Optimus nuzzled into his throat, one knee attempting to work its way between Starscream's thighs and he conceded to allow it. If only because he would enjoy opening his panel and rubbing his flushed valve down upon Optimus' thigh. He would go after his own overload and leave Optimus wanting.
Served him right for waking Starscream up.
“Both, I should think,” Optimus said. His hand slid from hip to aft to Starscream's thigh, pulling his upper leg up and over Optimus' own, baring his heated panel to the cool of the air-conditioned room.
Starscream's panel, however, stayed closed. Even when Optimus rolled his hips and rubbed the wet tip of his spike against it.
“Are you being coy?” Optimus asked.
Starscream grinned and threw an arm over the Prime's shoulders, letting his fingers tickle at the base of Optimus' neck, where clever talons could slide up and into the barely present seam of Optimus' helm. It was a sensitive spot, he knew, and was rewarded with a full frame shiver from Optimus. A low, breathless moan that highlighted the way Optimus all but melted in his arms.
“No,” Starscream said, rocking his hips toward Optimus' spike. “Just evening the odds.”
“Starscream?”
“Hm?”
Optimus' mouth traveled a hot and nibbling path up Starscream's intake and over his jaw. “Kiss me,” Optimus said.
“Well, if you insist,” Starscream drawled, and condescended to tilt his helm down and capture Optimus' mouth, sucking on the Prime's glossa and pulling it into his mouth in a mimicry of oral sex.
Optimus moaned. He pressed harder against Starscream, spike rubbing against his panel. And well, Starscream supposed he could be gracious just this once.
He triggered the panel open and let Optimus slide inside, both of them shuddering with pleasure as Optimus' spike parted the folds of Starscream's valve and their sensors lined up and latched together.
There were certainly worse ways to wake up, Starscream supposed, and then Optimus rocked into him a little deeper, grinding against his ceiling node, and all other thoughts fell away to pleasure.
Starscream wasn't complaining one bit.
a/n: Three down. Eleven to go. Phew. *wipes sweat from brow*
I've never written or read Sixshot before so apologies if I fragged up his characterization. I don't write Strika often, so again there. Starscream will forever be an unrepentant fragger and I have no shame for that. ;)
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated. I do hope you enjoyed! And now I'm back to work on the rest of the flash fics.
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/295633.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.