Drabbles Alert (Transformers)
Title: Drabbles
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Summary: Pairing generator is love. Slash!
Note: I'm going to be realllllly stringent on the adult stuff. I'm listing this one under that label so underaged people can't read. Sorry, but I'm protecting you, and myself.
The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator
Shockwave / Red Alert / picnic
"It's a complete waste of our time, and just think of the lack of security..."
"Aww..come on, Red. What's wrong with a bit of fun?" Inferno cajoles his friend, white face spread wide to bare a broad grin.
Red Alert scowled. "And what is this...picnic thing. An organic custom? Inferno, we would stand out like a sore thumb."
"But it's fun." Inferno doesn't hesitate to begin a petulant whine. "Spike and 'Bee told us all about it yesterday, remember? And Spike invited the Autobots! There won't be any other organics around to see us."
"That's what they want you to think." Red Alert mutters.
"Aww, Red. Really." Inferno sighs, teasing the other mech by wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "what's the worse that could happen?"
"What Are You Doing?"
Red Alert flinched in his seat as he is pulled from a hidden memory file in his memory banks, fingers rapidly hitting a series of keys to minimize the digital image and fill the monitor screen with several lines of commands. "N-nothing, sir."
He shrinks into himself, desperately wishing to melt into the tall seat. A large shadow engulfs him from behind, the large Decepticon, Megatron's second in command, hovering behind the timid mech.
"Really?" Shockwave's blaster hand clips his left shoulder, the entire appendage settling around his shoulders and neck like an iron noose. The Decepticon leans forward, over his seated subordinate, right hand initiating the command to call up the monitor screen.
To his horror, the digitized image returns to the screen, and Inferno's smile visage stares back at Red Alert.
Red Alert flinches as the arm enwrapping his neck tightens subtly. "What Is This?" Shockwave demands.
"...a friend..." He gulps out past the firm weight against his esophageal tract, hunkering down in trepidation.
Violet fingers threaten to dent his chin, Red Alert's head turned at an awkward angle to meet the Decepticon's single optic.
"You Were Captured By Megatron's Forces And Delivered To Cybertron, Into My Care, For A Reason." Shockwave leans over the red and white mech, completely swallowing the shivering form with the ominous air that stole Red Alert's words from his vocal processor. "A Security Officer Of Your Talent Is Extremely Rare, And I Require...No. I Demand Your Assistance, Red Alert.
"I Do Not Tolerate Gross Negligence...Nor Do I Tolerate A Remote Hint That You Are Pining For Your Comrades." Shockwave's optic dims momentarily, the mech falling into deep thought. "Perhaps...I Could Request That Megatron Locate This Particular Mech..." He nods his head in the digital image's direction, "In The Prison Ward, And Slot The Mech For Immediate Termination, Since He Obviously Consumes Your Thoughts, Thus Interfering With Your Work."
A sharp, startled gasp. Shockwave's fingers finally dent into his facial plates, streaking the white pain. "NO!" Red Alert pleads. "I'm sorry! I won't do it again. Please!"
"...I Will Wait On That Decision. For Now." The Decepticon warns.
"Thank you, Lord Shockwave." He releases the punishing grip upon Red Alert's face.
Red Alert cringes, however, waiting, anticipating, and ultimately enduring the brush of Decepticon's fingers tracing the line of his cheek in a soft, almost cruelly tender brush.
His chair is spun around, Shockwave filling the entirety of his optical screens, pinning the seated mech between the tall back and the Decepticon insignia stenciled into Shockwave's broad chest.
"Are You Ready To Thank Me For My Generous Mercy, Red Alert?" Shockwave inquires, hand skimming, slowly, torturously slow, down the front of his chassis, tickling over his grill.
Red Alert's engine sputters, dermal plates rippling beneath the tracking fingertips as they breach the tight seam of his locked thighs.
'Oh, Inferno.' Red Alert bows his head, relaxing limbs enough for the hand to slide deeper, brushing the concealed surface of an access port. He hides his face against the crook of Shockwave's neck as the mech presses close to establish deeper contact. 'I think things are far worse than either of us could have ever dreamed.'
The Transformers 2007 Movie Random Pairing Generator - Major Characters Version
Megatron / Optimus Prime / unworthy
"You should feel honored, Prime." Megatron hisses, broad hand splaying over the sealed compartment of the Autobot's chest plates.
Optimus refuses to respond, twisting his head away. His dermal facial plates were laid bare to the Decepticon's tender mercy, the Autobot leader's battle mask brutally ripped from its sheaths when Prime had previously refused to reveal his face to his captor.
"Most mechs are unworthy of my attentions." He shudders, fuel pump churning, filled with cold spikes of disgust and terror as sharp fangs brush the smooth edge of his cheek.
Where had they gone wrong? He wonders.
"You provided me with an opportunity that I would not dare ignore." Megatron, seemingly capable of reading his rival's mind, and continues to taunt the bound mech, "All of your efforts, wasted. You and the rest of your soldiers arrived on this planet far too late."
Suddenly Optimus' entire body bucks, from the sharp connection of Megatron brutally establishing connection - interface cable snapping home into his access port - while a low sound of pain follows from the screeching drag of talons raking down his chest plates.
"Did you really think these organic insects could contain me forever!"
Prime's hands fist, twisting within their restraints, the crude chains denting blue and red paint.
"This base that once held me, is now my latest stronghold." Megatron finds pleasure in boasting of his success.
But yet he finds even more pleasure in wringing out small sounds of frustration/pleasure/agony from his pet, pressing forward until their chests impact, nestling his codpiece against Prime's, waist entrapped within the tangle of the Autobot's long, strong limbs.
His other hand forms a cage around the back of the mech's blue helm, talons clacking against the smooth, brilliant hued paint. "Just remember that I am the only one preventing your precious soldiers from enduring my warriors' pleasures." Megatron warns, red-hot optics transfixing sapphire blue. "All I need to do is give the command...I'm sure Blackout is most eager to dig his talons into your medic..."
A metallic, rippling sob of air escaped Prime's vents, shoulders slumping in defeat, the small trembling resistance collapsing under the threat to his friends and soldiers. "A-As you wish...Megatron."
A loud rumbling purr trickles from Megatron's chest, dermal plates heating with excitement. "Such a good pet." He compliments.
The Transformers 2007 Movie Random Pairing Generator - Major Characters Version
Megatron / Optimus Prime / neurosis
You plague me, Prime.
You're like a disease. A cancer eating away at my dermal plates.
A neurosis that haunts my CPU every waking orn.
There is no cure for this sickness.
And yet I would wish for no antidote for your poison.
After...all. Finally, you are mine at last.
"Brother...why..."
Megatron runs talons along collar bone struts in a soothing gesture, nudging the bowed head upwards in order to gaze deeply into cloudy sapphire optics. "The Council is composed of senile fools." He whispers darkly, pressing close to his...his Prime. "This must be done. For the good of Cybertron. For the good of all mechs."
Optimus' head lolls, snared deep within the cold embrace of the implanted virus, physique and CPU greatly weakened, allowing Megatron an endless amount of time to shift and fashion the fellow mech into any desirable position upon the throne seated at Megatron's right hand. "T-the...all...AllSparkkk..." Prime is unable to connect his words, sentences slurring.
"Under my control once again." Megatron intercedes. "No thanks to your efforts, though. What were you thinking, to try to dispatch the AllSpark off the planet?" He demands.
"......n-No choizzz...lleeffft.."
He sighs, disappointed. "And because of your actions, I must assure that you are properly contained until such thoughts no longer infect your CPU."
"Pleazzz!" Optimus jolts, head thrown back. Megatron catches him before he slips from his seat. "...don..don't doooo thhiizz, Brother--"
"You make this harder for the both of us, Prime." Megatron warns, before slipping his talons between thick cables, and hitting the proper receptors.
Immediately Prime stiffens, optics brightening in pain and surprise, before sharply falling dark. His arms fall slack, limply collapsing all the way into Megatron's arms, forced into emergency lock down.
Megatron's red optics catches the red visor gaze staring back stoicly from the deep recesses of the corner of his throne room. "Indicate for the soldiers to proceed with the attack upon the Council, Soundwave. And bring me prisoners this time."
"As My Lord Commands." Soundwave bows, fist overlaying his Spark.
Megatron doesn't not bother to watch the officer retreat from his chambers, instead tracing the sweeping lines of Prime's reposed face, flicking the edges of the inlaid flames dressing the front of Optimus' chassis.
'You're an obsession, Prime.' He does not hold a scrap of shame in making that admittance. 'But at least you are mine.'
The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator
Thrust / Red Alert / club
"What's this, then?" The voice startles Red Alert from his crouch behind a large column of boulders, trying to take cover from the wild volleys of fire between the Decepticons and Autobots.
He shouts in surprise and indignation as he is lifted up into the air, hands scooping him up from behind, encircling his upper arms.
"A little Autobot who strayed from the herd?" Thrust snickers, not bothering to worry about the other Autobots desperately running towards him and his captive as he takes flight, the soldiers not daring to fire their blasters in fear of clipping their fellow Autobot.
"Let go of me!" Red Alert gasps, kicking helplessly with his legs as the ground continues to rapidly fall away, his companions becoming tiny spots upon the earth. "Let go of me this instant, you miserable slag heap!"
"So cruel!" Thrust whines in mock indignation. He remains in his bipedal form the maintain a better grip on his struggling captive. Recognizing the roar of a familiar engine, he looks over as his Trine mate, Ramjet, pulls alongside, the other Decepticon curious about what Thrust was lugging. "Did you hear what he called me, RJ?" He demands.
"I told you that I hate that nickname." Ramjet mutters acidly. He performs a barrel roll in his jet form, edging closer to get a better look at the cursing Autobot. "Are you planning on delivering him to Megatron?" He asks, curious.
Red Alert stiffens noticeably at the Decepticon leader's name. Thrust chuckles.
"Maayyybbbee." He purrs. "Just think! Megatron will be beside himself when we deliver Prime's precious Security officer!"
Dirge appears on the opposite side of Thrust, tilting a wing towards the captive. "You're scaring him, Thrust." He indicates the mech who is trembling violently within Thrust's grip, biting his bottom lip tight, energon pooling within the shallow cuts.
"Awwww..." Ramjet coos in mock sympathy. "Don't be afraid, little Autobot. Maybe if you plead nicely, Megatron will let us keep you as a pet."
Red Alert stutters, sputtering in indignation. "N-Not a chance! You might as well drop me right here! I'd rather be offlined by the fall than endure looking at your hideous face!"
Ramjet whoops with laughter, performing an acrobatic barrel roll as his pumps roll from the pain of laughing too hard. "Ooh, he's a fiery one!" He gasps.
"Starscream will blow a gasket cap." Dirge mumbles under his breath, unable to disguise his glee. "He'll probably pout and whine, since he was the first Seeker who had gotten his hands on the Autobot first."
"What? He's the first? Who says? Is he trying to set up a club or something? 'The Red Alert is my pet!' club?" Thrust asks. "I'd like to see him try!"
"I'm not a pet!" Red Alert protests, arms flapping within Thrust's grip.
"Whoops!" Ramjet drops below Thrust just before his grip slips minutely, grunting as Red Alert's leg smacks against his tail wing. "Don't drop him!" He snaps. "Try to keep him in piece until Megatron has his turn, and then we'll have our chance to play!"
The Transformers G1 Random Pairing Generator
Ultra Magnus / Perceptor / violent
Perceptor looks up from his station, surprised and momentarily concerned as his superior, Ultra Magnus, strides into his workroom.
"Sir?" He inquires hesitantly, noting the streaks of fresh energon that paint the mech's arms and chassis. "Were you successful in locating Swindle?"
He is concerned when Ultra Magus makes no effort to verbally respond.
Rather, large hands fall upon his shoulders, catching him tight.
"S-Sir?" Perceptor worries his bottom lip. "Has something happened?"
Suddenly his chair crashes to the ground, and he yelps in surprise as he is lifted, then spun around the fall over his work table, the force of impact scattering data pads and fragile projects that send glass onto the floor underneath.
"Sir!" Perceptor cries, hands slipping across the table, fingers twisting along the edges.
Legs and thighs push against him, splitting his legs to spread open wide from behind. Heated dermal plates cause Perceptor's limbs to tremble in trepidation.
He screams sharply in surprise, in blistering pleasure and momentary lancing agony as the larger mech practically shoves his interfacing cable into his access port. Perceptor buckles, forehead hitting the tabletop, hot air spilling from his open mouth as the coolant systems kick in. "Magnus!" He cries out.
First, his shadow swallows him and then Ultra Magnus leans over, pressing the front of his chassis along the length of Perceptor's back. His chin rests firmly atop the scientist's helm, arms rising to link their hands and fingers together in an intimate mating dance of aquamarine and alabaster.
The heated connection induces Magnus to buck sharply, forcing the cable deeper, and Perceptor cries out from the feedback, facial plates heating at the intimate press of the larger Autobot along his length. He instinctively pushes back against the hard bulk pinning him tight, and his motion stirs a low grunt of pleasure from his partner, who returns the gesture with a hard thrust that drives Perceptor flat against the work table.
Ultra Magnus' hands clench over his own, sliding around enough to where their palms press together. Perceptor, jolted by the gesture, turns his head enough to peer at the other officer. His lips are captured, Magnus diving and swallowing the scientist's weak cries of pleasure.
Overload catches them both between mercilessly fangs, driving the air from Perceptor's vents, and static nearly short-circuits Magnus' vocal processor as he releases a loud roar of completion, hips molding to Perceptor's as he slumps over his partner, threatening to flatten the smaller red and blue mech. Ultra Magnus, either too weak, or simply unwilling, does no severe his interface cable from Perceptor's access port.
Perceptor wheezes from the pressure of the larger body holding him down, but shifts uncomfortably moreso from the discomfort of the table edge dangerously close to denting into his stomach region. He is preparing to plead with Magnus to let him up, when he is just able to catch the mumble of words against his helm.
"The slagger got away. Again." Ultra Magnus hisses the last word, optics hidden as he buries his face against the crook of Perceptor's neck. "I only managed to tear his arm off, but the mechrat slipped away."
"Oh." Perceptor twists his shoulders around, looking to meet the other Autobot's gaze. "Is that where all the energon on your chassis is from?"
"Yes."
Perceptor sighs, and then winces at the short spark of pleasure that ignites between his legs. He can't hide the steady reheating of his facial dermal plates. "That...that would explain why you were so...violent in your efforts."
"You don't approve?" Ultra Magnus asks.
Perceptor shudders as lips begin tracing the smooth lines of the microscope mounted upon his other shoulder. "A little warning would be nice." He mutters, trying to sound bitter.
"Hmmm." Ultra Magnus hums.
He severs the connection, and Perceptor begins to relax-
But squeaks out loud when he is spun around, laid flat on his back upon the worktable, Ultra Magnus leaning over him until their lips just brush.
"Perceptor." Ultra Magnus purrs, lips twisted in a small mirthless smile. "I am frustrated and in need of your affections. Please prepare yourself for a long series of overloads."
"N-Now see here-" Perceptor is prepared to admonish the Autobot for his audacious humor when Ultra Magnus reestablishes connection, and the scientist finds that he is falling backwards, legs wrapping tightly around Magnus' waist as he finally gives up and allows Magnus to proceed.
Really, the insufferable...Neanderthal. He'd be lucky if Perceptor doesn't smack him alongside the head with a datapad if the scientist isn't able to work tomorrow due to his partner's amorous nature.