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toji fucks you well that you are genuinely driven to a point of near insanity from the pleasure. everything is stripped away until all you feel is what you can only describe as a sort of pure animal lust. you’ve lost all sense of shame or embarrassment. you’re just clawing at him, biting him, moaning loudly because you’re unable to actually form coherent words let alone string together a sentence. it’s…a lot
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The one time N.E.S.T (begrudgingly) contacted prissy!reader whenever Ironhide was in a mercurial mood, was the last time they did so because it just resulted in a massive argument that Ratchet had to intercept
Contains: Optimus x fem-human!reader, more unrealized pining from Optimus, he’s been out of the game for far too long
A great, foreboding mech stands outside of your balcony, stark against the evening background and skies. Optimus Prime regards you with a tucked chin and pinched metallic features, as if hesitant. It appears he’d been in the midst of leaving before you opened the upper level doors to receive him.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he says by way of greeting. The Prime presses closer, his right digital servos moving to rest upon the house siding gently, whilst his left places on the roof edge. There is a distinct, but slight, level of privacy assumed based on his stance: Optimus has effectively created the impression of a closed space. He can hear the distant commentary from his subordinates, so he speaks quietly with you.
You smile, polite and surprised; this is the first time the mech has sought you out, and it worries you. “No, you’re not. Is there something you wanted to discuss?”
Optimus makes to speak, pausing before he does so to peer irritatedly to his left. You cannot hear them, but Optimus can, audials rotating and adjusting in annoyance.
‘—Caging in the poor woman. You think she’s scared? I’d be scared.’
‘What’s he saying? Can you hear anything?’
‘No, not with your big ass mouth going.’
‘Whatever.’
He sighs, vapor pluming from alar slits. “I wanted to thank you, properly, for helping them—and myself. I also wanted to ask...What benefit do you gain from aiding us?” The question isn't accusatory, rather cautious. “We're fugitives on your Earth. Should we be discovered, you will reap punishment much the same.”
“I'm returning a favor. Your...” You rifle around internally for the right descriptor. “Your comrades saved many people some time ago. They saved me, too. A little bit of hospitality is owed.”
“You owe us nothing, but your care and graciousness aren’t in vain.” Optimus holds your curious stare; where you cannot see, his servos tighten along the roof and siding at his subordinates' continued remarks that have turned inappropriate.
'All that fighting and no way to blow off some steam for—What?—ages? No wonder he's always so—What's that word again? It starts with a 'R'?'
'Resolute? Righteous? Rigid?'
'Rigid!'
His derma press together and twitch infinitesimally.
You hum at his response and Optimus is brought back to the conversation. “You know, they told me stories about you before you joined us here. So many stories.” Gentle, tired laughter carries from your throat.
Optimus stills, an amalgamation of past events are recalled from memory processors; warfronts, past allies, adolescent times, accidental mishaps, comrades' deaths, his death. He deigns to ask what you've been told. Optimus will speak with his subordinates later.
“Hopefully, they did not bore you,” he says.
“No,” you sigh, bracing your hands on the guardrail. This is closest you’ve been to the mech, and, even still, the distance is polite. “No, they didn’t. They were very entertaining.”
“My comrades, or my stories?”
You peer upwards. This great autonomous creation before you has just made a joke, evident in the slight tilt of his mouth. It’s jarring for some reason, as if you believed the concept of humor was beyond him. And you are reminded in that moment of a statement made to you by Ratchet.
‘Relatively speaking, Optimus may be the last Prime, but he’s young.’ Ratchet had said. ‘And he insists on carrying burdens that aren’t his. He carries all of our burdens, too—it’s what makes him a leader you’d just die for.’
And you see this youthfulness now, brief as it may be, beyond the scarred metal and collected demeanor. “Both, I’d say.”
Optimus Prime looks upon you with an expression not meant for your understanding. “Then perhaps you can tell me some of your stories as well.”
‘I mean, I get it, she’s a pretty little human. I’d want a bite of that, too.’ A wolf-whistle follows shortly after this statement.
The Autobot Leader bids you goodnight, and steps away to handle the other matters at hand.
this doesnt fully help with your "i want to draw selfship but i dont want to draw mechs" issue, but if you wanted to play around with a cybertron selfinsert's design before committing to drawing, there is a piccrew you can use to play with the shape-language and break it down and stuff
https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/2418542/
I will in fact be playing around with this thank you thank you thank you !!!
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Contains: Optimus x fem-human!reader, more unrealized pining from Optimus, he’s been out of the game for far too long
A great, foreboding mech stands outside of your balcony, stark against the evening background and skies. Optimus Prime regards you with a tucked chin and pinched metallic features, as if hesitant. It appears he’d been in the midst of leaving before you opened the upper level doors to receive him.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he says by way of greeting. The Prime presses closer, his right digital servos moving to rest upon the house siding gently, whilst his left places on the roof edge. There is a distinct, but slight, level of privacy assumed based on his stance: Optimus has effectively created the impression of a closed space. He can hear the distant commentary from his subordinates, so he speaks quietly with you.
You smile, polite and surprised; this is the first time the mech has sought you out, and it worries you. “No, you’re not. Is there something you wanted to discuss?”
Optimus makes to speak, pausing before he does so to peer irritatedly to his left. You cannot hear them, but Optimus can, audials rotating and adjusting in annoyance.
‘—Caging in the poor woman. You think she’s scared? I’d be scared.’
‘What’s he saying? Can you hear anything?’
‘No, not with your big ass mouth going.’
‘Whatever.’
He sighs, vapor pluming from alar slits. “I wanted to thank you, properly, for helping them—and myself. I also wanted to ask...What benefit do you gain from aiding us?” The question isn't accusatory, rather cautious. “We're fugitives on your Earth. Should we be discovered, you will reap punishment much the same.”
“I'm returning a favor. Your...” You rifle around internally for the right descriptor. “Your comrades saved many people some time ago. They saved me, too. A little bit of hospitality is owed.”
“You owe us nothing, but your care and graciousness aren’t in vain.” Optimus holds your curious stare; where you cannot see, his servos tighten along the roof and siding at his subordinates' continued remarks that have turned inappropriate.
'All that fighting and no way to blow off some steam for—What?—ages? No wonder he's always so—What's that word again? It starts with a 'R'?'
'Resolute? Righteous? Rigid?'
'Rigid!'
His derma press together and twitch infinitesimally.
You hum at his response and Optimus is brought back to the conversation. “You know, they told me stories about you before you joined us here. So many stories.” Gentle, tired laughter carries from your throat.
Optimus stills, an amalgamation of past events are recalled from memory processors; warfronts, past allies, adolescent times, accidental mishaps, comrades' deaths, his death. He deigns to ask what you've been told. Optimus will speak with his subordinates later.
“Hopefully, they did not bore you,” he says.
“No,” you sigh, bracing your hands on the guardrail. This is closest you’ve been to the mech, and, even still, the distance is polite. “No, they didn’t. They were very entertaining.”
“My comrades, or my stories?”
You peer upwards. This great autonomous creation before you has just made a joke, evident in the slight tilt of his mouth. It’s jarring for some reason, as if you believed the concept of humor was beyond him. And you are reminded in that moment of a statement made to you by Ratchet.
‘Relatively speaking, Optimus may be the last Prime, but he’s young.’ Ratchet had said. ‘And he insists on carrying burdens that aren’t his. He carries all of our burdens, too—it’s what makes him a leader you’d just die for.’
And you see this youthfulness now, brief as it may be, beyond the scarred metal and collected demeanor. “Both, I’d say.”
Optimus Prime looks upon you with an expression not meant for your understanding. “Then perhaps you can tell me some of your stories as well.”
‘I mean, I get it, she’s a pretty little human. I’d want a bite of that, too.’ A wolf-whistle follows shortly after this statement.
The Autobot Leader bids you goodnight, and steps away to handle the other matters at hand.
blessed with the ability to draw, cursed with a dislike for drawing anything mechanical and all I wanna do is draw my silly little self-ship art with ironhide UGH
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
On a related note, I’ve been listening to Impact Winter on Prime (an immersive ‘audio story’ with sound effects and dialogue spoken like movie script) and this is the closest I’ll be getting to an audiobook
