Moooore Vocab drabbles
So, today was a very slow day. I wrote three drabbles at work, and I had three others waiting in the wing. I am quite pleased. There are three TMNT and three TF. There's a label before each of gen/het/slash/cest. And I do use all the labels. Enjoy!
TF
Gen
Any outsider would be frozen, gawking at the scene that dominated the flats outside of Central City. Brobdingnagian robots that walked amongst a seething mass of their Lilliputian allies would stun anyone into silence. It was the first thing that anyone approaching the site would notice: metal glinting off giant forms wading through a sea of flesh, and not stepping on a soul.
This was why Skyfire took a circuitous approach to the construction site, to give his passengers time to adjust to the fact that soon they, too, would be a part of that throng, but most importantly to give them the chance to see that they would not come to any harm.
Slash
Sideswipe danced around the subject in an arch manner, but Prowl knew better and brought a stop to his teasing with a single finger over the mech’s lips.
Sideswipe stared down at the black and white mech’s bright optics; his lips parted and his own optics wide.
Prowl smiled, flicked a doorwing, and withdrew his finger; his comportment easy and without reproach. “Yes, Sideswipe. I would kiss you, if only you’d stop talking long enough for our lips to meet.”
Twincest
Fingers pressed deeply into the seam where thigh and waist met. Lips caressed curved audio receivers, reverent worship of this golden mech.
It was as it was always supposed to be. Some mech would offer themself up to him and he would accept, only if the that mech would appear to treat him with the reverence he deserved.
Names were irrelevant.
What need did he have for this nobody's name. Come the next shift change, ths one would be sent off to live his own life, forgotten, but not forgetting.
How could any mech forget his sublime features, the perfection that he graced them with.
This one, like so many others, couldn't hope to match what he had to give .
No matter that he was his very own brother.
TMNT
Gen
Donatello loved getting books. He really didn’t care if they were used and worn. Actually he preferred them that way, torn pages and all. He loved to flipping through a book and finding the pages bent to mark a place and then reading to see if he could find what was so important about that page. He imagined that it gave him a glimpse into the last owner’s mind. But most of all, he loved to find scribbled marginalia as the person tried to make the text comprehensible to themselves. Or sometimes the doodles drawn in moments of idleness, letting the hand wander while the eyes devoured the words on the page. The writing of the id.
Het
Michaelangelo leaned forward, determined to remember everything about this moment. The rough concrete under his hands and legs, the way his calluses caught on her clothes. The feel of her hair on the back of his fingers. The smell of the minty gum she’d been chewing.
It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d kissed her. He’d kissed her several times: Christmases past when he caught her under the mistletoe, a birthday peck on her cheek (or lips, if Leo or Raph were looking--Don was no fun to tease since he had that silly crush on April). However, this was the first time he’d kiss her as a boyfriend, more than just a brief brush of lips on skin.
He had a brief moment of panic; terrified that he would mess it up somehow, or worse embarrass himself beyond all hope of redemption. He had absolutely zero experience with this, and Angel, well he knew she’d had boyfriends (several) through the few years he’d known her, and who knows how many before. She’d probably kissed all of them (definitely, he’d seen her, once, snogging one on her fire escape). But he’d never had more than a Christmas or birthday peck. He wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to do: with his mouth, or where to keep his hands, he didn’t want to grope her and make her hate him (as much as he itched to touch her cheek).
The first touch was uncertain, clumsy; lips and snout never having been meant to meet in such a fashion. But the ambrosial sensations prompted more, until Michaelangelo couldn’t really keep track of everything that was happening. He only knew that when it stopped, it left him bereft and breathless (a feat for one who takes nightly runs), heady with her smell and taste.
He opened his eyes and she smiled and leaned in again.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.
Turtlecest
“A lot of this, less of that, a tittle here, a vast amount there.” Michaelangelo put away the whipped cream and grinned down at his hamstrung brother, who glared back. “See, chemistry isn’t that hard for me, either.”
Donatello made a reply, best not repeated in polite company. Even through his gagged mouth.
“Someone’s been hanging around Raph too much. Don’t you think it’s only fair to be my turn now? Besides, you’ve been spending a lot of time in your lab. Leo’s seen more of you than I have.” Mikey batted his eyelids, though he thought it lacked something without any actual lashes. “Even Leo’s seen more of you, than I have. I miss my bro.”
Another grunt, and Donatello glared again.
Not in the least perturbed, Mikey grinned again and leaned down licked the small specks of cream he’d splattered over Don’s plastron. “Mmmm, tasty.” And he proceeded to devour Donatello.
TF
Gen
Any outsider would be frozen, gawking at the scene that dominated the flats outside of Central City. Brobdingnagian robots that walked amongst a seething mass of their Lilliputian allies would stun anyone into silence. It was the first thing that anyone approaching the site would notice: metal glinting off giant forms wading through a sea of flesh, and not stepping on a soul.
This was why Skyfire took a circuitous approach to the construction site, to give his passengers time to adjust to the fact that soon they, too, would be a part of that throng, but most importantly to give them the chance to see that they would not come to any harm.
Slash
Sideswipe danced around the subject in an arch manner, but Prowl knew better and brought a stop to his teasing with a single finger over the mech’s lips.
Sideswipe stared down at the black and white mech’s bright optics; his lips parted and his own optics wide.
Prowl smiled, flicked a doorwing, and withdrew his finger; his comportment easy and without reproach. “Yes, Sideswipe. I would kiss you, if only you’d stop talking long enough for our lips to meet.”
Twincest
Fingers pressed deeply into the seam where thigh and waist met. Lips caressed curved audio receivers, reverent worship of this golden mech.
It was as it was always supposed to be. Some mech would offer themself up to him and he would accept, only if the that mech would appear to treat him with the reverence he deserved.
Names were irrelevant.
What need did he have for this nobody's name. Come the next shift change, ths one would be sent off to live his own life, forgotten, but not forgetting.
How could any mech forget his sublime features, the perfection that he graced them with.
This one, like so many others, couldn't hope to match what he had to give .
No matter that he was his very own brother.
TMNT
Gen
Donatello loved getting books. He really didn’t care if they were used and worn. Actually he preferred them that way, torn pages and all. He loved to flipping through a book and finding the pages bent to mark a place and then reading to see if he could find what was so important about that page. He imagined that it gave him a glimpse into the last owner’s mind. But most of all, he loved to find scribbled marginalia as the person tried to make the text comprehensible to themselves. Or sometimes the doodles drawn in moments of idleness, letting the hand wander while the eyes devoured the words on the page. The writing of the id.
Het
Michaelangelo leaned forward, determined to remember everything about this moment. The rough concrete under his hands and legs, the way his calluses caught on her clothes. The feel of her hair on the back of his fingers. The smell of the minty gum she’d been chewing.
It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d kissed her. He’d kissed her several times: Christmases past when he caught her under the mistletoe, a birthday peck on her cheek (or lips, if Leo or Raph were looking--Don was no fun to tease since he had that silly crush on April). However, this was the first time he’d kiss her as a boyfriend, more than just a brief brush of lips on skin.
He had a brief moment of panic; terrified that he would mess it up somehow, or worse embarrass himself beyond all hope of redemption. He had absolutely zero experience with this, and Angel, well he knew she’d had boyfriends (several) through the few years he’d known her, and who knows how many before. She’d probably kissed all of them (definitely, he’d seen her, once, snogging one on her fire escape). But he’d never had more than a Christmas or birthday peck. He wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to do: with his mouth, or where to keep his hands, he didn’t want to grope her and make her hate him (as much as he itched to touch her cheek).
The first touch was uncertain, clumsy; lips and snout never having been meant to meet in such a fashion. But the ambrosial sensations prompted more, until Michaelangelo couldn’t really keep track of everything that was happening. He only knew that when it stopped, it left him bereft and breathless (a feat for one who takes nightly runs), heady with her smell and taste.
He opened his eyes and she smiled and leaned in again.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.
Turtlecest
“A lot of this, less of that, a tittle here, a vast amount there.” Michaelangelo put away the whipped cream and grinned down at his hamstrung brother, who glared back. “See, chemistry isn’t that hard for me, either.”
Donatello made a reply, best not repeated in polite company. Even through his gagged mouth.
“Someone’s been hanging around Raph too much. Don’t you think it’s only fair to be my turn now? Besides, you’ve been spending a lot of time in your lab. Leo’s seen more of you than I have.” Mikey batted his eyelids, though he thought it lacked something without any actual lashes. “Even Leo’s seen more of you, than I have. I miss my bro.”
Another grunt, and Donatello glared again.
Not in the least perturbed, Mikey grinned again and leaned down licked the small specks of cream he’d splattered over Don’s plastron. “Mmmm, tasty.” And he proceeded to devour Donatello.