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nightbladers
Handwritten lyrics: Pressure pushing down on me Pressing down on you, no man ask for Under pressure that burns a building down Splits a family in two Puts people on streets
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((Sorry it took so long.))
Send ✉ for an 2 AM text
Txt: Terra. Wheeljack’s overcharged on the rec room couch. Fetch him before something happens to him.
Txt: Strike that. Just come get him. When he notices, I did nothing.
Send ✘ for an unsent text
Txt: Yargh. Yer aft be lookin’ mighty fine fer a plunderin! -Sideswipe
Send ☠ for a threatening message
Txt: MY FRAGGING NAME IS NOT SUNSHINE! CALL ME THAT AGAIN AND I’LL RIP SOMETHING IMPORTANT OFF.
Send ❤ for a lusty/loving/affectionate message
Txt: Mm. Terra~ You should c’mere and bring your mate too. I’ve got something you can wreck. ;)
Send ♣ for a drunk message
txt: trra i ned mre hgh gade. oreo tok it.
txt: terra!
txt: terradrft!
txt: tradrft! hlp!
txt: aksldjflaksdjf
txt: This is Jazz. Please don’t bring him any high grade. Or else. Thanks Drift.
Send ✉ for an 2 AM text
Send ✘ for an unsent text
Send ☠ for a threatening message
Send ❤ for a lusty/loving/affectionate message
Send ♣ for a drunk message
jazzthemeister:
narcissistic-sociopath:
Sunstreaker smirked at the comment and soft groan, engine purring loudly at it. Oh, he didn’t mind not getting any touches in return. The ability to simply playwith the wings and hear those soft noises was enough for him. “I know you do. I frag your alternate, remember?” he teased, following the mech as he leaned forward to keep digging in and petting those sensitive spots.
“Desk. Always fun,” he purred, mouth moving to wrap around one of Jazz’s audio horns. Gently, he sucked and nipped along the edges and tip where he knew was sensitive. Not only from his adventures with his own Jazz but from his twin as well. Both had those delicious audio horns he loved to tease after all.
Jazz arches into the continued strokes, offlining his optics briefly as he finishes clearing off the rest of the desk. He onlines them again with a gasp as the mech starts on his audio horn. Frag, that was good, but a coherent thought made its way through the whirring fans and heating plating.
“Convince me,” he murmurs, “that this isn’t some sort of prank, and I’ll get my aft on my desk.” Almost a mood killer - but those servos in his doors and the glossa on his audio were pretty convincing, and his plating was warm to the touch by now, doors fluttering gently with interest.
The question had him pausing and staring down at the mech, the horn still partway in his mouth. “A prank?” he questioned incredulously. “Why would I prank the head of special ops? Much less the alternate of my mate?” Sunstreaker asked, surprised. Did he not hear his revving engine or feel the heat pouring off his frame.
Huffing, he very nearly shoved Jazz onto the desk and kicked the chair away. Nearly. “Jazz, it’s not a prank. It’s a ‘I need a Primus damned frag and neither my twin or my mate, AKA your alternate, are around’,” he explained, engine still loudly purring away. “Besides, if it was a prank it’s a cruel one and one I would never participate in,” Sunstreaker added, switching to the other audio horn to give it a work over as well. “Mm, not to mention I’ve been dying to play with your door wings since I first saw you.”
redterrortwin:
narcissistic-sociopath:
“Mm. Good thing the only thing I need to hear is you screaming for more,” he purred, pushing Sideswipe back onto the berth and climbing on top of him. Servos shifted from hips to the mech’s back, playing with the seams and sensitive plates as his mouth once more latched onto his neck. Once the red mech was pushed up far enough, he reached for the drawer the cuffs were in, fumbling to get them on and cuffed without his vision to guide him.
Sideswipe gasped as he was pushed down and his throat assaulted. He groaned and tried to return the touches only to have his servos cuffed to the berth. He tugged at them, testing them, before he let out a groan. Oh damn this was going to be good~ ::Kinky fragger ain’t ya?:: He smirked, raising his hips.
The loud purr and rev was Sideswipe’s answer, Sunstreaker moving down his frame slowly after giving those delicious neck cables a work over. His glossa traced over sensitive seams, dipping into them to lap at the wires inside briefly before moving lower. Eventually he got to Sideswipe’s panel and gave it a firm lick across the heated metal. “Open up,” he growled, looking up at the red warrior with lustful optics.
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Anonymous
you dont like your human very much, do you?
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“She gets on my nerves at times, like everyone. But in less quantities, less frequently, and is often understanding of my predicament. The rest of you can go die in a fire for all I care.”
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Anonymous
-Flings a fetus at you and watches it splat on your armor- Here~ Have a fetus! -runs away-
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Sunstreaker literally had no idea what to say to it, other than snarl a war cry and chase down the anon to shoot them.
Not a ‘Date’
maverickofmayhem:
narcissistic-sociopath:
The low growl quickly became threatening, a murderous tinge to it the longer Thundercracker touched his frame without his permission. Not to mention he was paintingall over it in the process. There may be no scratches but the paint was obnoxious enough. He was about ready to shove the mech off when his servo came up to his face.
Sunstreaker was about ready to bite the servo when he felt a kiss placed gently on his cheek. His first reaction was to shove the mech away then deck him for such a thing. As it was, with the faint buzz of high grade and his mind firmly locked into the painting in front of him, he merely shoved the Seeker away. “Don’t touch me,” he growled, though it lacked the anger he normally would have felt or conveyed, a fact that irritated him.
Thundercracker shrugged, removing his hands from the other’s frame and stepping back a pace. He couldn’t help grinning widely, pleased that the other mech had allowed the kiss. Of course, if he knew that it was mostly the highgrade influencing Sunstreaker’s restraint he would probably be a bit less excited.
“So, what’s this one then?” The seeker’s attention had been drawn to the painting, gold claws tracing the shapes without actually touching the canvas.
Sunstreaker was bristling as the Seeker backed away and spoke, armor flared out in anger and rage. It took him a few moments to calm down enough to answer, glaring darkly at TC as he spoke. “Over there, the ocean around that small outcrop,” he growled, pointing with his own golden digit to the area he had been painting a little ways off. The painting itself had the basic colors laid down, the detail work only just beginning. Eventually it’d turn out to be a vivid reconstruction but for now, it was a work in progress.
“No. Especially not by you. Though I believe ‘Train has a slight problem.”
