Teaser | TFP Optimus Prime x Reader

8

Smut part.

Optimus has always thought you're beautiful, even before he realized his carnal desire his feelings to you. Cybertronian's beauty standard might different from human's, but you are certainly meeting his. You could have dirt splattered all over your face and clothes, hair burnt to crisp, looking like you just escaped a conflagration in the middle of earthquake, and you're still the most adorable person he ever laid his optics on.

But right now, it is a little difficult to admire you.

You're beautiful, as usual. Not to mention the fact that you're lying down beneath him, with only your panty covering your human-valve, hands above your head and legs spread to create a space for his frame. Your hair messy and slicked with sweat, skin flushed and lips puffed red—a teaser indeed, his little human. You smiled and Optimus' spark almost stopped from your cuteness. This is just like how he always fantasized to be imagined to be, if your lips are not full of cuts; if your neck is not stained with shark-like bite-marks. They ruined everything.

Optimus is not fond them—in fact, he hates them. He has to clean you up.

He started out softly, nipping your upper and lower lips one by one, flicked your tongue teasingly before went deeper. He was sloppy for the first seconds, laughably so, but then Optimus started to maneuver things around and the delicious heat below your stomach made its presence known. He lets go when your breath started to gasp, only to dive in again right after you managed to settle your breath—he lets go, and then he dove in again, again, and again; until you arched your body to him, until you unconsciously hump his thigh.

Without any warn, Optimus pulled away. You tried to reach him and mewled out needy noises, but he just laughed. Optimus leaned his weight on his servos, each one planted beside your head. He loomed over you, with shades darkening his face and figure, leaving only two bright blue orbs of his optics as light sources. His laugh died down as he observes you, mouth plate fell into a flat stoic line. This is the charming mech you fell head over heels for.

While you're busy admiring his look, Optimus is drinking everything you displays for him.

The Cybertronian partners he had back then were all like him—metal-machine sentient beings that full of sharp edges and hard frames. Their frames clangs and scrapes every time he and his partner engaged in interfacing session, sometimes leaving dents and scratched paint afterwards. With you, it's a whole new level of comfort—the crook of your neck where he buried his face earlier is unbelievably soft, not to mention your puffy lips that always yielded to his lip-plating—and Optimus has not even touched your breast or bums yet! Oh, the sinful things he about to do to you... Too bad he didn't have the luxury to peel off your clothes by his own servos; Megatron must have torn it away before he kicked down the door.

The visual where your hands are locked above your head, while Megatron is ripping your clothes off his talon-like digits, tracing your skin with the same digits suddenly is very offensive to Optimus.

Normally, he'd push away the whispering twisted inner voice of his. The things it whispers to him would certainly scares you, and he doesn't want that—but if that what it takes to imprint deeper markings than Megatron's, he'd find a way for you to accept his doings consensually.

Optimus ran his glossa up to the length of your clit before diving in. The sent shivers through out your body, stopped your breath, and you curled your toes, but Optimus act like he didn't even notice. He swirled his tongue inside, testing every places he could reach, trying to figure out which one would earn him the loudest noise.