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Summary
Optimus' servo wraps around your neck cables, squeezing. Not enough to cause any pain, but enough to make your vents hitch and stutter. "Stay quiet; unless you'd like everyone on-board to hear that you're being fragged stupid," he growls into your audial, sending shivers down your back strut. Your calipers shamefully squeeze his spike as he speaks, your gaze averted and your faceplates flushed.
"You like that, don't you? For everyone to know who you're being fragged by?"
A moan and a whine escapes your vox.
"For everyone to know who you belong to?"
OR:
in which the reader goes through a heat cycle and op is there to pound them until their processor is fried. that's it. that's the oneshot