So sexy in my pants.
Jul. 26th, 2012 03:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
The ever fabulous
nkfloofiepoof,
dellessa,
shibara,
lady_aquill and I had a prompt orgy! This is what came about! Check their journals for more fabulousness. XD
We had a prompt orgy! Or, name/name - prompt, with a time limit of 15 minutes. These are the unpolished, not beta'd and AS THEY ARE responses godpleasehelpIdon'tknowwhathappened. >.>
All are rated NC17, and all contain content of varying consent.
------------------------
Prompt
nkfloofiepoof 1: Ravage/Howlback - Set this night on fire (FEMALE RAVAGE)
Ravage was sitting back, relaxing as she watched the fire in the distance. It was beautiful, in it’s own way, and it warmed her spark in a way that only destruction and killing could.
She waiting, here, patiently. There was a speck she could see, in the distance, that grew bigger as it loped toward her and though her tail showed more and more agitation, she willed her body to stay put.
It thumped, again and again. Swishing back and forth, stirring up the dust and leaving a fan like print on the ground. Her jaw lolling open as she caught the familiar scent, glossa coming out and vents coming in short pants. She could smell, could taste, her companion. Running over the ground, eating the distance up like it was nothing. Long legs flying as the black cassette ran back to where Ravage was sitting.
Her spark thrummed. Syncing with the one coming closer and closer, the excitement from the other cassette infecting her with its vivacity, with its fervor. Making her finally lose her battle to stay seated, propelling her forward to her mate as explosions rained down in the background.
They crashed together, a tangle of limbs and tails and teeth and glossa. Each fighting for dominance until finally Ravage was flat on her back, staring up at the black metal of Howlback, both of them venting in pants as they looked at each other.
Ravage moved first, baring her neck to the other cassette, shivering as a long glossa licked a stripe from her chest to the edge of her jaw. Her paws kneading against Howlback’s chest, tail coming up to twine around the other’s, a silent plead for more contact.
An interface cable spun out from its spool and pushed into Ravage’s port, making her arch up against the black metal of her partner. A low growl rumbling from Howlback’s throat as Ravage was pressed down harder, a command to stay put. Ravage whined, butting her muzzle against Howlback’s, sending her desperation and need over their link. Glossa coming out to lick whatever was in her grasp as she fought for a modicom of control, all the time revelling in her lack of it.
Howlback snarled, clasping her jaws around Ravage’s neck in a hold that was firm and gentle and all the more like an embrace to the panther and she stilled.
Still, over the link she begged her ice cold partner, pleading as she was sent waves and waves of pleasure. Breaking down and howling her release, finally feeling Howlback let go and overload with her as the Autobot base burned in the background.
Prompt
dellessa 3: Jazz/Prowl/Bluestreak/Smokescreen- A Game of Chance? That was never my style.
Smokescreen had his hips cocked, doorwings spread wide as he looked at Jazz. “I think you heard me Jazz.”
Behind him, Bluestreak was sitting on a backwards chair, his own wings lazily flapping. “Do we need to repeat ourselves?”
Prowl, who was already attached to Jazz’s arm, ran a hand over his chassis. “It isn’t that hard of a question, is it?”
Jazz took each of them in, a grin growing over his face. He turned and took Prowl in a kiss, lips hungrily capturing the Praxian’s and moving against them languidly. Hand roving down to grope the black aft with a firm squeeze, enjoying the shudder that came of it.
Another body pressed against his other side, and Jazz broke the kiss to find Smokescreen waiting. Lips parted, an energon blush over his own face, and just managed a chaste pressing of lips before Bluestreak suddenly towered over him. Standing on his chair, leaning in to claim his own kiss.
“A game of chance? That was never my style.” Jazz’s optics passed over the three Datsuns. “But I’m very good improvising.”
Bluestreak wasted no time, pawing at Jazz’s codpiece with singular intensity, optics lighting up when the catches were released and it came off and Jazz’s spike pressurized in front of him.
He encircled the base with his hands, licking and nibbling the tip, before Smokescreen joined him, both of them nipping and sucking the rigid metal. Jazz groaned, and found himself pushed to the floor. Lying back as Prowl neatly straddled his neck, valve already exposed and dripping, offering, asking, all at once.
Jazz’s legs were spread wide as the two Praxian’s fought for position, each trying to swallow his spike. Prowl tracing an audial horn with his fingertips as Jazz brought him in closer and gently sucked on the metal platelets surrounding the dripping enterance. His glossa slipping through them to trace patterns in the metalmesh.
As Prowl rocked over his face, soft cries and moans filling the air, and Bluestreak and Smokescreen each took turns swallowing his spike, Jazz really wondered why he hadn’t agreed to game night sooner.
Prompt
lady_aquill 4: Skywarp/Megatron - Pranks, a time and place.
Megatron stomped through the Nemesis, covered in green paint and furious. The looks from his soldiers that of partially, or in Starscream’s case not, concealed amusement was bad enough, but the fact that Skywarp was on the public comm laughing at him...
No. Not acceptable in the least.
So he stomped through the hallway, leaving green pede tracks, following Soundwave’s instructions on how to get to the room that the Seeker had holed himself up in.
Blasting the key panel, the door sliding open in a klick, grabbing a still snickering Skywarp as it shut behind him.
“There are other ways to get my attention Skywarp. There is a time and place for your pranks, and this was not it.”
Skywarp wrapped his arms around the still wet Megatron, his glossa catching a drip of green as it fell from the edge of his helm. “But this way is so much more fun. Don’t you agree?” He pushed their mouths together, sharing the terrible tasting paint between them. Making sure to lick the backside of Megatron’s denta, the roof of his mouth, his glossa and lips, before pulling back and smacking his own together.
“Besides. How else can I make my claim.”
Megatron’s hold tightened, a rumble vibrating his chest as he held the flyer to him. Smearing Skywarp with the same paint he’d been drenched in, watching as it covered the purple and black metal, tracking where it dripped down his legs. Pulling one thigh up and around his hip, smirking as he heard the telltale click of an eager valve panel opening, and retracting his spike panel. Pressurising directly into the flyer, a delicious shudder wracking both of their frames at the sensation.
Rocking back and forth into silky heat, lipping at Skywarp’s neck cabling, his massive hands tightening over the smaller mech’s aft, pulling him in with each thrust. “Perhaps a less vibrant claim next time.”
The paint dripped between them, smearing over Megatron’s spike and disappearing into Skywarp’s valve. Streaks of green leaving matching marks as the metal was rubbed against each other.
Pranks had a time and a place, but perhaps this time hadn’t been that bad.
Prompt
shibara 5: Grimlock/Mirage - "Let ME explain YOU"
Mirage had his hand over his optics, rubbing the metal under his helm, trying to prevent the processor ache that he felt coming on.
“Grimlock. I’m flattered, really I am. Please don’t think that I’m not appreciative of your offer, because it is... quite a generous offer. However I am currently involved in a relationship already.”
He heard shifting and suddenly a hand brushed over his helm, probably rather gently by Grimlock’s standards, though it nearly knocked Mirage off his pedes. “Grimlock no understand. Me Grimlock just want interface pretty bot. Why pretty bot not want interface Grimlock?”
“Alright. Let my try to explain. Again. I am currently involved in a relationship. That means I don’t sleep behind my partner’s back, and I don’t accept propositions because I’m ‘pretty’.”
Mirage was starting to get a little ticked off. Grimlock wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed for sure, but honestly, how many rebukes did one need to get before they just backed off.
“Let ME GRIMLOCK explain YOU MIRAGE again. Me Grimlock want interface. Me Grimlock get interface. You Mirage relationship not involved. Me Grimlock no want interface you Mirage’s partner.” Grimlock picked up Mirage and stomped over to the battered table, pressing him down, facefirst against the pitted metal surface. “Me Grimlock explain nicely. Me Grimlock get what me Grimlock want.”
He dug a massive finger into Mirage’s valve cover, the spy opening it to avoid it being ripped off. “Grimlock! Stop! This isn’t how you go about interfacing! GRIMLOCK!”
“It work with other Dinobots, it work with pretty bot.”
Heat was suddenly pouring over Mirage’s aft and he managed to turn his helm to see Grimlock’s spike nudging him. “Grimlock! You’re too big, you’ll tear me!”
“Grimlock be careful!”
Slowly, he pushed forward. Mirage felt the metal of his chassis cracking, the pressure Grimlock putting on it too much for the thinner metal of his alt mode to handle. He shot a comm off to Jazz, hoping against all hope that someone would get here sooner rather than later. The pressure from Grimlock’s spike was tremendous, the tip of the large head just pushing inside, and he braced himself, only letting out a groan as it stretched his valve rim to the limit. “GRIMLOCK! You’re going to tear me if you push any more!”
But Grimlock didn’t stop, only pressed in further, not even stopping when a screech of static left Mirage as the rim of his valve ripped and the head of the massive spike finally pushed through.
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We had a prompt orgy! Or, name/name - prompt, with a time limit of 15 minutes. These are the unpolished, not beta'd and AS THEY ARE responses godpleasehelpIdon'tknowwhathappened. >.>
All are rated NC17, and all contain content of varying consent.
------------------------
Prompt
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Ravage was sitting back, relaxing as she watched the fire in the distance. It was beautiful, in it’s own way, and it warmed her spark in a way that only destruction and killing could.
She waiting, here, patiently. There was a speck she could see, in the distance, that grew bigger as it loped toward her and though her tail showed more and more agitation, she willed her body to stay put.
It thumped, again and again. Swishing back and forth, stirring up the dust and leaving a fan like print on the ground. Her jaw lolling open as she caught the familiar scent, glossa coming out and vents coming in short pants. She could smell, could taste, her companion. Running over the ground, eating the distance up like it was nothing. Long legs flying as the black cassette ran back to where Ravage was sitting.
Her spark thrummed. Syncing with the one coming closer and closer, the excitement from the other cassette infecting her with its vivacity, with its fervor. Making her finally lose her battle to stay seated, propelling her forward to her mate as explosions rained down in the background.
They crashed together, a tangle of limbs and tails and teeth and glossa. Each fighting for dominance until finally Ravage was flat on her back, staring up at the black metal of Howlback, both of them venting in pants as they looked at each other.
Ravage moved first, baring her neck to the other cassette, shivering as a long glossa licked a stripe from her chest to the edge of her jaw. Her paws kneading against Howlback’s chest, tail coming up to twine around the other’s, a silent plead for more contact.
An interface cable spun out from its spool and pushed into Ravage’s port, making her arch up against the black metal of her partner. A low growl rumbling from Howlback’s throat as Ravage was pressed down harder, a command to stay put. Ravage whined, butting her muzzle against Howlback’s, sending her desperation and need over their link. Glossa coming out to lick whatever was in her grasp as she fought for a modicom of control, all the time revelling in her lack of it.
Howlback snarled, clasping her jaws around Ravage’s neck in a hold that was firm and gentle and all the more like an embrace to the panther and she stilled.
Still, over the link she begged her ice cold partner, pleading as she was sent waves and waves of pleasure. Breaking down and howling her release, finally feeling Howlback let go and overload with her as the Autobot base burned in the background.
Prompt
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Smokescreen had his hips cocked, doorwings spread wide as he looked at Jazz. “I think you heard me Jazz.”
Behind him, Bluestreak was sitting on a backwards chair, his own wings lazily flapping. “Do we need to repeat ourselves?”
Prowl, who was already attached to Jazz’s arm, ran a hand over his chassis. “It isn’t that hard of a question, is it?”
Jazz took each of them in, a grin growing over his face. He turned and took Prowl in a kiss, lips hungrily capturing the Praxian’s and moving against them languidly. Hand roving down to grope the black aft with a firm squeeze, enjoying the shudder that came of it.
Another body pressed against his other side, and Jazz broke the kiss to find Smokescreen waiting. Lips parted, an energon blush over his own face, and just managed a chaste pressing of lips before Bluestreak suddenly towered over him. Standing on his chair, leaning in to claim his own kiss.
“A game of chance? That was never my style.” Jazz’s optics passed over the three Datsuns. “But I’m very good improvising.”
Bluestreak wasted no time, pawing at Jazz’s codpiece with singular intensity, optics lighting up when the catches were released and it came off and Jazz’s spike pressurized in front of him.
He encircled the base with his hands, licking and nibbling the tip, before Smokescreen joined him, both of them nipping and sucking the rigid metal. Jazz groaned, and found himself pushed to the floor. Lying back as Prowl neatly straddled his neck, valve already exposed and dripping, offering, asking, all at once.
Jazz’s legs were spread wide as the two Praxian’s fought for position, each trying to swallow his spike. Prowl tracing an audial horn with his fingertips as Jazz brought him in closer and gently sucked on the metal platelets surrounding the dripping enterance. His glossa slipping through them to trace patterns in the metalmesh.
As Prowl rocked over his face, soft cries and moans filling the air, and Bluestreak and Smokescreen each took turns swallowing his spike, Jazz really wondered why he hadn’t agreed to game night sooner.
Prompt
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Megatron stomped through the Nemesis, covered in green paint and furious. The looks from his soldiers that of partially, or in Starscream’s case not, concealed amusement was bad enough, but the fact that Skywarp was on the public comm laughing at him...
No. Not acceptable in the least.
So he stomped through the hallway, leaving green pede tracks, following Soundwave’s instructions on how to get to the room that the Seeker had holed himself up in.
Blasting the key panel, the door sliding open in a klick, grabbing a still snickering Skywarp as it shut behind him.
“There are other ways to get my attention Skywarp. There is a time and place for your pranks, and this was not it.”
Skywarp wrapped his arms around the still wet Megatron, his glossa catching a drip of green as it fell from the edge of his helm. “But this way is so much more fun. Don’t you agree?” He pushed their mouths together, sharing the terrible tasting paint between them. Making sure to lick the backside of Megatron’s denta, the roof of his mouth, his glossa and lips, before pulling back and smacking his own together.
“Besides. How else can I make my claim.”
Megatron’s hold tightened, a rumble vibrating his chest as he held the flyer to him. Smearing Skywarp with the same paint he’d been drenched in, watching as it covered the purple and black metal, tracking where it dripped down his legs. Pulling one thigh up and around his hip, smirking as he heard the telltale click of an eager valve panel opening, and retracting his spike panel. Pressurising directly into the flyer, a delicious shudder wracking both of their frames at the sensation.
Rocking back and forth into silky heat, lipping at Skywarp’s neck cabling, his massive hands tightening over the smaller mech’s aft, pulling him in with each thrust. “Perhaps a less vibrant claim next time.”
The paint dripped between them, smearing over Megatron’s spike and disappearing into Skywarp’s valve. Streaks of green leaving matching marks as the metal was rubbed against each other.
Pranks had a time and a place, but perhaps this time hadn’t been that bad.
Prompt
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Mirage had his hand over his optics, rubbing the metal under his helm, trying to prevent the processor ache that he felt coming on.
“Grimlock. I’m flattered, really I am. Please don’t think that I’m not appreciative of your offer, because it is... quite a generous offer. However I am currently involved in a relationship already.”
He heard shifting and suddenly a hand brushed over his helm, probably rather gently by Grimlock’s standards, though it nearly knocked Mirage off his pedes. “Grimlock no understand. Me Grimlock just want interface pretty bot. Why pretty bot not want interface Grimlock?”
“Alright. Let my try to explain. Again. I am currently involved in a relationship. That means I don’t sleep behind my partner’s back, and I don’t accept propositions because I’m ‘pretty’.”
Mirage was starting to get a little ticked off. Grimlock wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed for sure, but honestly, how many rebukes did one need to get before they just backed off.
“Let ME GRIMLOCK explain YOU MIRAGE again. Me Grimlock want interface. Me Grimlock get interface. You Mirage relationship not involved. Me Grimlock no want interface you Mirage’s partner.” Grimlock picked up Mirage and stomped over to the battered table, pressing him down, facefirst against the pitted metal surface. “Me Grimlock explain nicely. Me Grimlock get what me Grimlock want.”
He dug a massive finger into Mirage’s valve cover, the spy opening it to avoid it being ripped off. “Grimlock! Stop! This isn’t how you go about interfacing! GRIMLOCK!”
“It work with other Dinobots, it work with pretty bot.”
Heat was suddenly pouring over Mirage’s aft and he managed to turn his helm to see Grimlock’s spike nudging him. “Grimlock! You’re too big, you’ll tear me!”
“Grimlock be careful!”
Slowly, he pushed forward. Mirage felt the metal of his chassis cracking, the pressure Grimlock putting on it too much for the thinner metal of his alt mode to handle. He shot a comm off to Jazz, hoping against all hope that someone would get here sooner rather than later. The pressure from Grimlock’s spike was tremendous, the tip of the large head just pushing inside, and he braced himself, only letting out a groan as it stretched his valve rim to the limit. “GRIMLOCK! You’re going to tear me if you push any more!”
But Grimlock didn’t stop, only pressed in further, not even stopping when a screech of static left Mirage as the rim of his valve ripped and the head of the massive spike finally pushed through.
------------------------