#crossfaction

"well, who might you be!!"

this is grand! she comes from the golden canyon!

(the faction down under.)

her design got help thanks to: @that0nenpc ! ty frend!

you can call me part of blackrock, or lost temple, dont mind relly.

(basic rules, no nsfw, bla bla bla, all asks are fine. yes, you can send art.)

(most art can be found on whitebored fox

i disappeared for a bit, and the internet there sucked. Anyways, have a cruddy crunchewd drawing of my boy and Pyro. based off a little incorrect quote generator that went something like

Pyro, to Scout: we had a date!!

“Uhn,” Prowl grunted as his face was pressed into the rock. There was no sound on the empty highway except for the filthy, wet clangs of the Decepticon’s array when it struck the Autobot’s aft.

Strong servos with clawed digits reached under his hood and squeezed Prowl’s wells. They expertly pinched and rolled Prowl’s nozzles as the tactician moaned under the assault. He should have known it was a trap. The sighting had not been Casseticons but well disguised drones, a lure to draw Prowl out as he drove his patrol. Meister groaned against Prowl’s doorwings, gleeful lust poured from his field as he pulled his spike from Prowl’s fluttering valve with a loud squelch before driving it back into the depths of Prowl’s frame.

It had been a long time since the Decepticon had caught him, less because Prowl had been wise to his tricks and more because the work of an officer largely kept Prowl on the Arc and away from Meister’s games. Too long, maybe because Prowl had never been so easily bested, maybe Prowl had gotten too comfortable. His own claws scraped against the dirt as Meister released his wells and seized his hips as he reared up. He rode Prowl’s aft with a cocky smirk, making a show of how deep his spike could drive. It felt bigger, longer than it had in the past but it had been a long time since the Decepticon had gotten Prowl under his claws.

“Cum for me, Copbot,” Meister ordered. He punched his spike deep as he pulled Prowl’s aft back, forcing a cry from the Autobot’s vocalizer. “I know y’re holdin’ back.”

Prowl ultimately could not help but obey, not with the way the Decepticon’s girth filled him so well. It was not even that Meister’s spike was obscenely large but the Decepticon new how to use every micrometer of spike to better destroy his prey. The tactician’s wells bounced against his open hood as the Decepticon operative rutted against his aft. His whole frame trembled as he overloaded and as his valve contracted around the saboteur’s spike, Prowl felt the Decepticon’s transfluids fill his gestational tank. Prowl’s faceplates flushed a darker scarlet.

How was Prowl going to explain the scuffs? Though Meister stripping off his armour would have been Prowl’s undoing, all the paint transfers, all the dirt, would be hard to explain. Meister had him on his back down, legs hooked under his arms as he sank his spike into Prowl’s throbbing core. Prowl clawed at the ground as he was fragged across the ground, the paint on his doorwings flaking off against abrasive stones. Meister leaned forward and squeezed one of Prowl’s wells under his hood as he ground their arrays together. Prowl squeaked and mewled as his node was crushed between them. His optics rolled back in his helm as he overloaded again.

“That’s it,” Meister groaned. “Ain’t so stoic wit my cock in ya, are ya HotCop? Y’re so sweet cooin’ for me.”

“Slagtard,” Prowl growled, voice too high to be threatening as the Decepticon did not relent and drove him towards overload once more.

“Think I can’t feel how much you love it?” Meister asked, pressing deep, holding himself there as he smirked down at Prowl. “Ya can’t help milkin’ my spike. If I didn’t know better, I’d think ya wanted a Con bastard in yer belly.”

Meister only laughed when Prowl sputtered. He pinned Prowl on his back as he braced himself on the tips of his peds as he thrust into Prowl’s drooling centre. It was unfair what an affect the Decepticon had on Prowl, how much better he was with his spike than anybot Prowl had ever had. If even a modicum of Meister’s arrogance had been misplaced, Prowl might have been able to resist. But Meister was well deserving of his arrogance and he stole squeals of shocked ecstasy from Prowl as he pressed him into the ground and drilled his spike so relentlessly deep.

“That’s how ya fuck the police,” Meister said as he brushed a bead of drool from Prowl’s chin. The SIC was exhausted and achy from overuse. It did not seem like the joors… hours of interface had put a tent in the Decepticons energy reserves, despite the fact that he had done all of the work. Prowl glared at him. “Better drag yerself up ‘n get back to base. Y’re patrol’s endin’ soon.”

The damnable Decepticon left Prowl lying in the dirt. It took a bream before Prowl could gather himself up, to wipe the mess of fluids from his plating. He would blame the scratches on the dirt and the dirt on some offroading, if anyone noticed to ask. Though his valve was throbbing, bruised and tender from the rough frag, Prowl forced his legs together and transformed. Even in his altmode, Prowl’s armour felt tight. It would not be so much longer now before he would be unable to transform. Still, Prowl was not prepared yet to consider the ramifications.

Teletraan 1 approved Prowl’s entrance into the Arc. He did not drive past a single spark as he made his way into the Autobot’s base. Taking advantage, Prowl made his way to the washracks and locked the door. Whoever had used the shower last liked tepid solvent, Prowl liked it molten hot. After adjusting the temperature, Prowl stepped under the spray and began to scrub his plating. Even as his armour washed clean, Prowl could still feel sand itching his protoform and he stripped off his armour to better access the stray dirt. His legs felt week as Prowl cupped his lower belly as it had rounded out with the enormity of Meister’s spend. He ran his servo up as that bulge melted to the greater swell of his forge as it jutted so far now that it was free of his constricting armour.