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TFA: Godformers RitesofPassageDisclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I make no profit from this.
A/N: I was inspired to write these drabbles by this awesome pic. http://godformers.deviantart.com/art/iDONThavethesugarlockdown-131589265
All drabbles are Godformers/Aztec theme.
Title: Rite of Passage
Summary: (AU) Prowls rite of passage is
Rites of passage were common among mortals as well as the gods. Prowl was currently undergoing his own. Before Prowl could take his place as god of the moon, he had to spend a year among the mortals as one of them. It was a test all gods had to endure, and one that was supposed to build empathy for humans. Mortal life was often brutal and short, and to experience it would build strength, or so Prowl was taught.
Over two months ago, the young god had been dumped into the middle of the jungle, given a mortal body, and left to his fate. Luckily for him, he eventually stumbled across a small village, and the residents were eage
TFA: Random Drabbles HET 4Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I make no profit from this.
A/N: Written for WooDeN-flAsHlIgHt. OC YoPro belongs to her. For more on the character, follow the link.
Title: Bound and Broken
Warnings: HET, non-con, torture
Summary: (AU) Lockdown has fun with his pet.
Taking a swig of energon, Lockdown gazed over his handiwork. Straps and chains were coiled all around YoPros arms, waist, and legs, keeping her suspended in midair. The protective paneling around her groin and aft had been ripped off.
That's all I can post of this drabble. For full version, follow the link in the artist's comments section.
Pairing: OC/Lockdown/Oil Slick/Swindle
Warnings: HET, non-con
Summary: (AU) Oil Slick and Swindle join in on the action.
A/N: I always thought Oil Slick and Swindle would be the types to hang out with Lockdown.
YoPro whimpered in fear as she backed into a wa
TFA: Lockdown+ProwlTitle: Heels
Warnings: mild violence, kink, non-con fondling, slash
Summary: (1/1) Lockdown has a fetish, but Prowl isnt in the mood to comply.
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers Animated characters. I make no profit from this.
Prowl couldnt believe his rotten luck. He had only been outside the base for five minutes before he was attacked by Lockdown and knocked unconscious. He was now strapped down to a berth with the bounty hunter looming over him, grinning wickedly. He tensed when Lockdown drew closer. A lot of disturbing images raced through Prowls processor, mainly ones involving him being beaten and parts being ripped off. So, it came as quite a shock when the bounty hunters hook gently lifted and cradled his right heel, fingers dancing delicately over the hubcap.
Wh--what are you doing? Prowl stammered.
Just admiring your gorgeous heels, Lockdown murmured, fingertips tracing the s
Request: Escape From DarknessTitle: Escape From Darkness
Pairing: Cyber/Prowl; Cyber/Lockdown
Warnings: AU, bondage, h/c, innuendo, kink, non-con, violence
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I make no profit from this.
A/N: Written for cyberaquaninja, whom Cyber belongs to.
Darkness lifted over Cyber's optics, and she winced from the throbbing pain in her helm. The pale blue femme had been waiting for Prowl earlier, near a lake surrounded by serene woods. It was their favorite place to spend time together, and without their teammates or humans around to harass them, they could be intimate. She remembered turning around from the lake view when she heard leaves and twigs crunching, expecting to find Prowl, but a net shot out instead, cocooning her and blasting her with bolts of electricity. Now, she found herself strapped to a berth in an unfamiliar room, arms pinned to the sides and legs spread wide open. She tilted her helm around, finding various weapons, shields, armor pieces, and mech heads hangin
on old sanzu - absolutely true fictionlast fall i stole my friend down by the tama river. we sang. we danced. we skipped dead fish like rocks and watched them get swallowed by the undertow. we got sick off of bad chinese food and went skinny-dipping and then a week later she drowned herself.
her uncle was a yakuza, i think, but he really just wanted to be al pacino or something. anyway, she loved him a lot. maybe that’s why she went down the way she went down; cement shoes. not real cement, but it was the same idea. she had two cloth bags with yellow-painted cinderblocks inside, and they were tied to her ankles like the prisoners’ chains from o brother where art thou.
in my mind’s eye i can see her, limping dreadfully close to the edge of the current, her left hand gripping at her breasts through a loose t-shirt. kneeling by the wastelands, elbows in the gravel, crawling forward out into the water. angry like a dermis under wool, all teeth and salt and sand. sleepy, submissive, sublimated.
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