#Rotb mirage x reader

[starlight0518]

Ok, so I just got randomly inspired by one of the HCs I read about ROTB Mirage x reader. It's just a small dialogue and I just feel like typing it down...

Mirage: *chilling next to Y/n*

Mirage: "Yo Y/n,"

Y/n: "Hm?"

Mirage: "Kiss me if I'm wrong, but dinosaurs still exist right?"

Y/n: *looks at Grimlock*

Y/n: "Yeah, no shit."

[i-starcreamed]

Hey can I get three different scenarios if, Optimus, Mirage and bumblebee from Rotb, had met a tameranean who is like Starfire in a way, and is a princess. How would they react when they meet her and learn how strong and powerful she is, and what would their romantic relationship be like. Also the reader acts like starfire too, but I would find it funny if she kissed the Autobots to learn their language when she too comes to earth cause they were the nearest thing near her. Sorry if this is a lot I just love the idea since she too lives in space, that they may know a little bit about each other. Also I would find it adorable if they had sparklings with her since I head canon tameraneans can practically mate with anything. (I’m gonna scream if you except this, cause I don’t think you will but thank you for at least reading this! 🫶🏾)

i actually thought this idea was super cute, anon. I decided to do long-ish headcanons because I wasn't sure how to fit everything into one scenario for each.

[ tameranean!reader post includes: ROTB Optimus, Mirage, and Bumblebee

OPTIMUS

once he assesses that you're not a threat, I imagine he'd be super curious about your powers and abilities. Once he finds out you're too from space, I feel like he'll be able to confide in you a bit more than he would with humans?? Like, you're an alien like him, possibly stranded on Earth as well

he respects you so much, because wow you're a princess? He admires your bravery, especially if you're willing to help them. Despite being reluctant at first

Just imagined Optimus Prime bowing down to you a little, started going crazy

anyways

The Autobots were the first you came across upon landing on Earth, you didn't speak their language nor did you speak English. You proved you weren't a threat, but they didn't understand you or know your motives yet. You realized you landed on yet another civilization that doesn't speak nor understand Tamaraneans. And so, you did the only thing you could do. Optimus was the closest, so you gave him a simple peck on the mouth. The other autobots around were trying not to giggle at the look on Prime's face. He was shocked, confused, and maybe a bit flustered. You swore he didn't answer for a couple minutes when you greeted everyone.

He's suchhh a big fan of your Tamaranean features, you're so unique and yet so human as well. Again, he admires your bravery and strength and your attitude. Genuinely enjoys your company. If you're somewhere secluded, he'll go on a drive with you maybe flying next to him as you talk :3

I think Prime would be one to want sparklings with his significant other, he could only hope they will live in a world outside of war. He would never want them to experience what he and many others did. Also deep down, the Orion Pax in him that would've never thought about fighting in a war would've wanted to happily settle down somewhere. Knowing that you're a bit stronger/resilient than normal humans (or most types of aliens he knows of) he feels a lot more secure with having sparklings with you. How many? No one will ever know.

MIRAGE

okay so imagine you meet in the middle of a fight accidentally. You've been trying to blend in like a normal citizen of Earth ever since you got here, you were shocked to see that humans were in fact not the only species that lived here. Unfortunately for you, the same city you were staying at was being attacked by giant evil alien robots.

You're in the middle of the street, not really knowing the extent of what these robots can do. One second you see a Porsche, a semi truck, and a camaro speed past you and transform into more alien robots...but this time they're fighting the one destroying the city so they're good you think? The next second, you were too frozen in admiring these aliens when suddenly a car goes flying towards you.

It happens in slow motion, Mirage is the only one who sees it go straight for your face. But he's confident, he knows he can catch it and save you. Except...it slips through his servos. His spark nearly stops. Instead of seeing a poor 'human' go spat on the ground, he can't believe his optics when you reach out and catch the fucking car??

After that whole incident, he's asking you a bunch of questions. You give him a lil kiss so you can answer him in his language, you're slightly surprised when suddenly you know english and cybertronian, whatever that is

Honestly, I could imagine Mirage never letting go of that kiss, like he's going to joke about it for years.

You're a princess? hell yeah, he thinks you're super badass and wants to see you in action tbh. He's still gonna act like a knight in shining armor but he knows you can handle yourself, he wants to impress you fr

Wants you to teach him your language, he will try but it'll sound like gibberish. Either that or he will learn it immediately because uhh cybertronian super advanced robot?

He's definitely an excited father to your sparklings, you will need to make sure he doesn't teach them to be troublemakers because HE WILL raise them into little fuckin risk takers

BUMBLEBEE

Unfortunately he would not be able to learn your language since there are no tameranean radio stations.. but hey you can still kiss him!

once he gets to know you and where you're from, he's a huge fangirl I think

definitely hypes you up and praises you when you chuck a car at a deception or something. Once he knows you're probably as strong as they are, you guys do some cool combos out in the battlefield.

power couple !?!?!

jokingly does a little bow every time he greets you, then crushes you in a hug. Probably plays some cheesy line from some radio station

he lovesss how you're so kind and compassionate to species you don't know and a planet that isn't yours, but also the fact that you're brave in the face of danger. He knows you can defend yourself and still come back to give him a lil kiss afterwards

he asks if you can carry him. you probably lift him up by one hand and he's going crazy that you might drop him.

you will both learn about Earth together, as well as each other's home planets :3

laying out in the middle of nowhere, staring at the stars and reminiscing about your home? of course

he'd be sooo nervous about sparklings, nervous but excited. He'd be the most caring boyfriend and equally as caring father

thinks your sparklings are the cutest ever ever

[cyberapid]

Holo Shenanigans

ROTB Mirage x Cybertronian! Reader

Reader is described as femme and she/her pronouns are used

sorry if this is crap writing the ending of this was like pulling teeth. :)

—•—•—•—•—

Finding parking in the city isn’t easy and having to deal with an all too large pick up makes it even worse. Thankfully, Elana hadn’t had to deal with that, instead allowing the living car to park for her— a short distance from Noah and Mirage. Closing the door behind her she steps out before turning towards her car and talking to it in a hushed tone, 

“I’ll be two seconds. I’m not sure what he needs,” 

There's what she can infer as agreement as the exhaust of her car sounds, probably louder than a truck should, but it’s all she needs before she steps towards Noah who’s heading towards her the same.

The street is busy and loud, as usual, making a decent cover for a conversation that realistically shouldn’t be happening out in the open like this. But here they are anyhow- 

Noah seems disturbed as he nervously picks apart a small piece of hard paper, causing Elana's anxiety, with this now seemingly important conversation happening out in the open, to spike. Her hands clam up and her stomach does flips but it’s interrupted by a familiar and loud horn to rip her from her thoughts, Mirage, and from his window a man is practically hanging out. 

“Lemme get a look at that pretty face! Don’t be shy, babe,” 

Mirage- she knows that voice all too well as it barks from the man leaned out the side of the multicolored Porsche. The low rumble from her running Truck seems to share her confusion while Noah turns his back her, facing the disguised Cybertronian with a sharp look, 

“Get back in the damn car,” his temper is shorter than usual, she assumes it's fair to say whatever news he might have won’t be good. Despite his agitation the Autobot doesn’t relent,

“You're cramping me, man! I’m talking to a pretty girl, not your dog ass,” his grin doesn’t leave despite Noah’s glower, seemingly wanting a reaction from him or you.

“Fix that paint job and maybe I’ll give you time, hm?” 

That comes from a voice that is far too familiar for her liking, turning around she’s filled with utter confusion as a woman is leaned out from the passenger side of her car with a teasing smile shot back towards Mirage

“don't dig the vintage? Ladies love it,” the attention causes the Porsche to audibly grumble with an inferred satisfaction, egging the auto bot on further but his flame is quickly quelled by the femme,

“What ‘ladies’ are you speaking to?” The woman frowns and sends a faint glare towards the man leaning out the window, who’s quickly sent reeling as his sputters a moment, red faced.

“I’m not talkin’ to anyone! They talk to me, babe. Scouts honor” the man leaned out the window has his hands over his heart and widely spreads them out to the woman’s direction thought he’s met with a less than impressed look.

“Your honor doesn’t mean much to me dear.”

He’s left sputtering shouts of ‘come back’ and ‘wait wait’ as she tugs her head back into the truck and the tinted windows rolled back up. Mirage sulkily tucks his own head back through his own window, leaving Elena and Noah to have a quick conversation, agreeing to meet back up at his mother's apartment, with the hopes that she’s already left for work for a bit more privacy.

Back in her truck and on her way to Noah's apartment she stares accusatory at the radio as it plays a song, she doesn't both to pay attention to, 

“What busted your bumper?” the radio cuts out as her car hums with amusement at her seething look, the casualness of her tone grates on her nerves further

“What was that!” they swap lanes rather aggressively, cutting off the fluorescently colored taxi that honks at them and Elena can see the driver angrily waving an arm and shouting wordlessly at them

“Harmless flirting? he’s dumb.” the answer is said absently and she can imagine if you were a human sitting in the seat instead of herself you’d be staring at the rearview mirror as you continue to cut people off to get to the furthest lane and turn at the next light– She hadn't even noticed her hand going up to clutch the grab handle, knuckles white from the anxiety of your less than stellar driving,

“No no. The PERSON” she can't tell if you're playing stupid or genuinely had not got her question and she's not sure what irritates her more,

“Oh, that’s my holo-form” Obviously, at least that’s how you say it. As if it's a very well-known fact and the answer is self-explanatory on its own.

“Ah yes, that explains everything. Thanks”

[mskenway97]

I've been wanting to write this for a long time and with the skills this character has, I've been itching to write this.

ROTB Mirage x Fem!human!reader

Cap 2

Curious cat

Words: 1.506

Summary: You started noticing something strange in your neighborhood, while you were watching something weird. You decided to investigate it to find some surprise.

Warning: g/t content, g/t fearplay

You've been saving money for a long time, working hard… Living in New York was expensive, but it was your dream since you were a little girl, the city of opportunity. For now you had started in a waitressing job, the hours were horrible, the bosses didn't treat you the way you wanted but it was the best you could do until one of the interviews gave you the job you wanted. You came home late, the nights were pretty quiet and you had to be alert for anything. You were always taught to be cautious, to say that living alone had a risk but you thought it was better to take a chance, you never knew what you might find along the way. You had heard all the time of urban legends: monsters, shadows that took you away. "Nonsense" you thought every time they mentioned it, you may be from the village but it doesn't mean that because you are from the village you believe in those unfounded legends. Although today while you were working, you had heard a couple of customers talking about a ghost car, you laughed when you heard it and tried to dissimulate. "People should focus on real problems not urban legends" you thought as you packed up to go home. The way though you kept thinking about what the customers talked about. A ghost car… You couldn't get that legend out of your mind even as you went to sleep, I'm sure you'd get over that thought tomorrow. But it didn't happen that way, every time you heard more and more about that car, something that made you more and more curious, you had a big defect, when in your mind there was an idea that didn't disappear until you found out what was going on.

Until one day you decided to investigate all the rumors that were going around: you had gathered that it appeared only at night (as in all legends or horror stories), it was always found in abandoned parking lots, it was a gray car with blue racing stripes… "I lack more information there is something that does not fit me in all this …. And the people who have found it? Or something else?" you thought while looking at the notebook of notes about what could be that mysterious vehicle. The following days were spent asking the supposed "people" who had seen that car… All the words they said were not credible: that it disappeared in front of their noses, suddenly they saw three cars instead of one… others said they saw a giant figure… This last one already seemed ridiculous to you from everything you had heard, what was going to be next, an alien? Absurd. Although if I found a good story I could give you some more credibility and help anything or maybe you were fixated on an idea that was impossible… Here's to making your life a little more dynamic. The bad thing is that you would never know where that car was, it did not keep a fixed position, so in order to find it you decided to ask someone who would surely know about the car. Reek was a man who knew more about robberies than anything else, but if there was any information about that car he would surely know something about it. So you met up with him in a neighborhood in Brooklyn while he came in smiling:

The man was always walking around with a licorice in his mouth, he was more cooperative after I told him you would give him some dough.

-Girl, are you sure about what you're going to do? Some of my colleagues were looking for that "ghost car" - said Reek while showing a picture of the car.

You took a better look at the picture and it matched the descriptions that everyone you had asked matched. You were more interested in the make of the car? You had wanted a car like this since you were a child, in fact you were saving up to buy one for yourself.

-Just give me a location, Reek, and I'll give you the dough. I'm sure it's nothing. Plus you know how to avoid the cameras, right? - you said as you were pulling out some bills Reek rubbed his hands together.Well if you give me a little extra I'll even deactivate them…

-Just this or I'll tell everyone you're stealing cable TV… Reek was a little offended to hear it and rectified what he said to you. He gave you everything you needed. This time it was in a parking lot not far from the residential area, but the neighborhood was not very well known… That's why it was guarded. The idea was that Reek would create a blackout while you went inside. It seemed like a perfect idea and the sooner you figured out what that car was, the calmer it would put your mind at ease. Finally the night you were waiting for came, Reek had left you a place where you could turn off the power, it didn't seem too difficult, you just had to lower some switches but when you arrived you saw that they were already down.

But instead of running away you decided to enter, seeing that the doors were open, the parking lot was in a closed place that did not even have a guard, only people took advantage of it to leave their vehicles "for free". You approached carefully, you hid among the cars to see a group of thieves approaching the car. Everything seemed normal until you saw that it had disappeared in front of them, not only that the lights had gone out around it, to show the same car several times and repeated all this all the time until the thieves ran away. If you didn't see it you wouldn't believe it, it was really happening as all those people were saying. You stayed in your position while you stood up and heard a voice in your ear:

-You thought I didn't see you? You jumped back to see that the car you were leaning against was the grey car you were all looking for, you quickly ran to another part of the parking lot that seemed to be more isolated while breathing heavily.-You're making it too easy for me, girl…. You jumped again to see the same car next to you, your face went blank as you saw that gray car. You were trying to react, you ran away from it.

-Come on, I'm not that scary… Come here little girl - said the giant gray being. You were thinking it was a dumbbell as you were hiding under a car. Suddenly you heard silence all around you, except for the watch you were wearing.

Tick,Tick No matter how hard you ran… You felt its presence all the time, playing with your mind… You had only one word in your mind: run away…

But running away to where your mind was racing, your heart felt like it was going to burst then you heard some big footsteps around you.

-Come out wherever you are, girl? No matter where you hide… I'm going to find you - said that giant robot while you saw him walking away from you to another floor of the parking lot. You didn't think about it and picked up your cell phone to see that the car where you were hiding was lifted as if nothing by that gray robot, you tried to run again to stumble and find three of them. You were completely surrounded, while one of them picked you up and made the rest of them disappear, you tried to move but he was holding you in his servo as if nothing. You were completely terrified trembling… completely at their mercy. The giant gray robot pinched you on the cheek.

I have to say, of all the humans I've seen… I found you the most curious. At least you didn't faint or run away. You've got some guts. You were trying to get away from his touch but he had too much strength to dodge it, you're literally like a doll in his hands.

-Let me go! Possessed car! - you said as the robot laughed at the sound.

-Possessed car? Come on, my name is Mirage… I don't want to let you go yet," he said as he transformed into a car while leaving you on the seat.

-Let go of me! Let go of me! - you said as you kicked everything you could.

I'm sorry, curious kitty… I can't see if Optimus will let me stay with you. I'll take good care of you," said the car as it pulled away to a location.

You tried to kick more but it was impossible, your curiosity had led you to a moment you never expected. To the mercy of a giant being that saw you as its kitten. Curiosity caught the cat.

[jellyfishoreo1206]

I really wasn't expecting so many people to like my Mirage x reader so much! I'm glad you guys liked it!

Though this is a rewrite, because I accidentally deleted the original. I'm still a little salty about it but it's whatever

Though there will be a small few changes that aren't updated in the part 1, but nothing much, just how the text will be colored. And some inconsistent POV changes

Y/N-Pink

Mirage-Blue

Noah-Orange

But anyway, here's part two!

Part one is here btw

Meeting Mirage ;)

Warnings: Suggested drug usage, language

"So is there a reason why we're walking instead of taking your car?" Currently right now, Y/N, who was about to go to bed several minutes ago, is now walking the empty streets of Brooklyn with Noah right beside her. And in addition of that, a blindfold for some reason that she's still trying to figure out. It was nearly midnight and this man literally just told her he had something important to show her. Many questions asked, and no answers yet.

He just kept responding with, 'you'll see when we get there', which is slowly starting to tick her off. And to make it just a little worse, she's still in her PJ's, a black tank top, some baggy white sweatpants that aren't even hers, and some worn out spiderman slippers. And it's fucking cold.

"It's close by, not even that long of a walk."

"It better be, because I swear to God Noah if whatever you're about to show me is something stupid I'm going to fucking kick you."

"I swear it's not."

"Also why did it have to be at night? Why not early in the morning?!"

"Because it couldn't wait until early in the morning!"

"Mhm, yeah right. You didn't even let me have time to put on a jacket. It's fucking cold."

"It's summer."

"You know how cold I am naturally!"

"Wouldn't be surprised if you were a lizard."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm just befriending you so I can slowly take over humanity! Maybe so I can lick all the things I want without getting weird looks from people because it'll all be lizards!"

It was quiet for a moment, before the pair started to laugh at the comment. Sometimes they can't take each other seriously. It's always one of the two that makes the most random comments to ever been said.

"I'll get you some of those croissant thingys from that bakery you like. As a, 'Sorry for dragging you out of your apartment to show you something' apology."

"You better, you mother fucker...and bring some milk too."

"You're the only person I know that likes milk as a beverage."

"Hey! You can make all kinds of shit out of milk! It's not weird to like it as a beverage. Hell, you were drinking it out of your mother once!"

"Never say that sentence ever again."

Sooner or later, they finally arrived at their destination. With the jingling of keys, Noah unlocks a door before gently pulling her into the building. She was immediately hit with the smell of oil, the fumes of paint, and the smell of gas. Wherever they are, Y/N's guessing they're in Noah's garage.

Now, Noah was nervous, the whole entire time they walked here, he was fidgeting with his finger every so often. He fears how his best friend will react to Mirage, and hoping, hoping it's a good reaction. Though, it might be a small chance, but that's not stopping him from praying to the point someone passing by will probably think he's a little crazy.

"Heyyy you're back! And you brought the pretty lady too~" Now Y/N wasn't expecting another person to be here. She thought it would just be the two of them. Not that she was complaining, maybe this important thing needed someone to look after it so it wouldn't break or something.

Though in reality, it's a huge 12ft robot chilling on the floor, waiting for the both of them. But she doesn't know that. Yet.

"Y/N, I want you to me-"

Noah was cut off by Mirage, a pout on his face as he crosses his arms. "Nu uh man! Lemme have this one!" He quickly clears his throat, with a flirtatious smirk replacing that pout in seconds.

"The names Mirage, bonita~ But you can call me yours~" There was a playfulness in his tone, and to Y/N, he seemed very confident and outgoing. Maybe a little flirty, but that's fine with her. Though he does sound rather young, maybe around the same age as Noah? (I don't know how old he is, but I'm guessing maybe around 19-21, also reader is like 6 years older than Noah) And what a strange name, maybe it's a nickname he likes to go by.

"That's the most cheesiest line I've ever heard in my entire life." Y/N let's a chuckle slip through, snapping out of her little mind rant, a small smile making it's way onto her lips.

"Hey I spent a good amount of time on that! Plus, it's not that cheesey.."

"..Was that too cheesey?"

"Dude you're the one who came up with it, not me."

"But you're supposed to be my wingman here! I scratch your back, you scratch mine." There was a small stare down between the two, before Noah sighed.

"...okay maybe it was a little too cheesey-"

"I may not be able to see, but you guys are horrible at whispering."

Y/N was still standing somewhat next to Noah, arms crossed over her chest as she waited for their so called secret conversation to be over with. All the things she wants do is to go to sleep and enjoy her day-off the next day. That's all she asks for.

"Anyway, what's that important thing you wanted to show me, Noah?" She goes to remove the blindfold, but was stopped by a frantic Noah holding her wrists in a soft, but firm, grip.

"Shit! S-Sorry, it's just.." Noah sighs out in frustration, letting go of Y/N's wrists. "I gotta tell you something before I show you the thing." Said woman raised her brow at Noah's behavior. Now's she getting a little worried for what the hell Noah might show her.

"It's.. It's not something illegal, right?"

"No!" He pauses for a few seconds, "At least I don't thin-"

"NOAH-??"

"Right. So, uh, I think it's best if you just..see for yourself?"

"Why do you sound so unsure." Finally glad to be able to take off the damn fabric, Y/N looks at her surroundings, blinking rapidly to adjust her eyes. Her suspicions of being in Noah's garage was correct. But what she wasn't expecting was a huge metal being sitting in the middle of the room, optics on her with a mischievous smile on his face.

"Hey~"

It takes a few seconds before her mind could catch up, her expression blank. When the scene in front of her processed completely, she immediately turned around, walking towards the door with fast and hurried steps.

"Nope. Nu-uh. Not dealing with this shit tonight. Fuck this shit. I'm out. Peace. Adíos. Goodbye forever. So lon-"

"Y/N wait c-come back!"

"And I will walk 500 miles, and I'll walk 500 more-" Grabbing onto the handle, she tries to open it. Only thing was the door jammed repeatedly. "Fucking shit."

"Ouch, they never treated E.T like this." He pouts, dramatically putting the back of his hand to his forehelm. Now he was kind of expecting her to scream or least for her to faint, but this reaction was more amusing.

"Just let me, uh, us explain-!" Noah forcefully put himself between Y/N and the door, holding out his arms so she wouldn't try to go around. A staredown ensues.

"Please..?" Shrugging his shoulders a little with an unsure smile on his face, his attempt to make himself as convincing as possible. With a sigh, she nods, backing away from the door with slight hesitation. Turning back to the robot in question, Mirage has a bubbly smile on his face, optics lighting up.

"There you go! I ain' gonna hurt you," The mech coos teasingly. "Quite a show you put up though, ever thought of doing stand-up comedy?"

Y/N was still a bit tense, looking at the bot in caution. She doesn't even know what to do in a kind of situation like this. Hell, what do you even do in a kind of situation like this?

But despite that, Noah seems to know, Mirage was his name? He seems to know him pretty well, from how well Noah and him seem to get along. It actually explains a lot of things, that you didn't realize until then. How Noah seemed to be very secretive whenever it came to his garage, and seemed to be somewhat cautious whenever someone looks through his things.

"It's okay mami, you can admire this handsome face as long as you like~" Mirage's flirtatious voice broke you out of your mind ramble, a blush covering your face in an instant. You spaced out without realizing it.

"S-shit my bad."

"Heyy, it's alright~ Not often you come across a face like this!" He sticks his glossa out, making a peace sign with his servos as he winks at her. It, oddly made him cute. A small chuckle comes out of the woman, posture now slightly relaxed a little more, but still tense. Thinking this was a dream, she goes to pinch her arm as hard as she can, but no it's no dream. Maybe she had to much edibles before going to bed, and she was just in the streets all sluggish and her mind is throwing delusions at her, just for entertainment. Like a jester of sorts.

But she ran out of edibles 3 days ago, so that's most likely not the reason why.

Like promised, Noah and Mirage explained what, where, who, and why he was on Earth. And that there's more of him. And that they can transform into cars. And he demonstrated this, by transforming into a car himself. The Frankenstein car you were inside not longer than a week ago.

Now the dots were finally connecting.

She continues to ask him a variety of questions, each of which ranging from how long he's been on Earth, why he choose a Porsche to be his alt mode (to which he responded with, "A cool guy like me needs to have a pretty cool alt to go along with it" followed by a flirtatious wink), and how many other people know about his existence. By know your shoulders are less tense, posture completely relaxed as she continues a conversation with (mainly Mirage) the two of them.

And Mirage, being the big flirt he is, kept throwing pick-up lines whenever the chance showed itself, accompanied by a wink and a cute smirk. Each one making you a little flustered.

Eventually Noah had to leave, because apparently Kris never went to sleep in the first place, to busy to defeat Bowser. He knew because Kris accidentally blew his cover via walkie-talkie. So now it's just you and Mirage, all alone in the garage.

It felt somewhat awkward, but Mirage always found a way to break the silence of everything.

"So how'd you meet my boy?"

"His mom, she was a co-worker of mine a few years ago, and decided to invite me over to her house to meet her kids."

"And what, you guys hit it off there?"

Y/N let's out a small chuckle, shaking her head. "Not exactly. He was a little nervous at the start. We only started talking when I offered to babysit Kris." And the conversation continued on from there, leaking into the early hours of the morning.

Mirage knew he wanted to know and see more about the human, she's just so pretty and fascinating! And her reactions and little faces she makes are so cute to him, make him wanna squeeze her little cheeks. His tanks are filled with the fluttery feeling again, the more they talk, the more it increases. Now he knew when to take risks, and this is one of them definitely. He knows he wants to see more of her, to keep talking with her. Just makes his spark go absolutely crazy.

So why not ask her out?

Alright Mirage, you can do this, my man! Don't let that nervous feeling pull you down. C'mon c'mon c'mon! When will you get another chance like this ever again?

After giving himself a small prep talk, Mirage finally asks. "Hey you wanna go to the drive-ins sometime tomorrow? I'd love to keep seeing that pretty face of yours more~" A wink following with a smirk. His confidence was all over the place, and his spark was beating rapidly, like it's going to come out of his chassis. Obviously it wasn't shown on his face, but internally he was a nervous wreck.

You were somewhat taken off-guard by his question, a blush covering your cheeks. Is he asking you out on a date? I mean, he could be asking to hang out more, but his various flirtatious comments and compliments thrown at you made you think otherwise.

Now that she thinks about, he's actually a lot better than any person she's been in a relationship with. He's actually makes her laugh, is nice and gentle, a good listener, and overall quite comfortable to be around with. And he's quite a cutie and handsome one too..fuck it.

"Sure. What time, handsome~?" The mech perked up at her response, optics lighting up. "How 'bout sometime at 7? I know a pretty good spot~"

"Then it's a date." Oh how that word made his spark flutter. He does a little dance and fists his hand in the air for his small victory, Y/N laughing a little at his antics. Her cheeks hurt so much from smiling so much. She's pretty excited for tomorrow's drive-in now.

When Mirage finally settles down, she beckons him down to be at her level, a small mischievous smile on her face. Confused, he does so, couching down until becoming face to face with her smiling face.

Warm lips peck his metal cheek, his optics widening in surprise at the bold gesture, a blue blush makes itself known on his face. The warmth spreading through his entire body as a shiver goes up his backstruts. Now he's for sure his spark might just beat out his chassis. She can practically hear it!

"Something for you to think about until tomorrow~ Goodnight Mirage~" And with that, she leaves the garage, a big smile on her face as she makes her way home, ready to finally crash into her bed and excited for the night tomorrow.

Mirage was left crouching in the garage, a surprised look still of his face, still trying to process what had just happen. His look of shock then quickly shifted to a look of giddiness, letting out a victory whoop as he tries to calm his beating spark.

"Man, what a woman!" And he cannot wait to see her again.

[xxladyballadxx]

Movie Night

TF: ROTB Mirage x reader

☁️✨Fluff Headcanon☁️✨

(Note: Not my image, I've just found it on Google.)

Spending an amazing day at the drive through theatre with her sweet goofball Mirage always makes her day. Whenever she is feeling down or stressed out, Mirage would take her to the drive through theatre. The human girl likes to watch anything that interests her. However, Mirage hates to watch horror movies since he gets scared of them easily. (Y/n) laughs her head off whenever Mirage screams like a little girl while watching a scary movie with him. 

Mirages LOVES to watch Disney movies, especially Tangled which he had watched multiple times and it’s actually his favourite Disney film. 

(Y/n) only watches the movies at the Drive Through Theatre when there’s no people around it. She just wanted to be her and Mirage, just the two lovebirds alone. 

Oh how she loves to spend time with her robotic boyfriend. Holding his gigantic hand with her small tiny hand, kissing his metal face, cuddling him. 

Mirage loves to comfort his sweet human girlfriend, always knows how to make her laugh and to bring a smile across her face. He hates to see her sad and would do anything to make her a happy girl.

(A/n) - ANOTHER ONE HAHA! This is short but hope you all like it! :))

UNTIL NEXT TIME ^-^

[botboots]

unfamiliar familiarity [mirage x reader]

a/n: very soft. very short. hes all thats been on my mind since rotb and i needed to get some of my silly little feelings about this man out of my system. its 6am as i finished this & am posting and its not proofread yet so good luck <3

warnings: none word count: 505 (GN reader)

-----------------

It was quiet.

The air was still - only flickers of soft wind caressing your skin every now and then. Green leaves above you rustled with it, along with the tall grass only a few feet away. You were comfortably warm sitting under the summer shade of a tree.

Quiet was nice, you thought, settling against the cool metal at your side and letting your eyes fall shut with a deep exhale. A servo rested on your shoulder and you hummed.

You hadn’t felt at peace like this in… however long it had been.

Too long.

You blinked, pulled out of your thoughtless trance by the quiet murmur of your name. Lazily angling your head back, you looked up at the familiar face above you. He observed you for a moment, bright blue optics flicking over your features before soft metal lips parted to give you a soft grin. A warm feeling bubbled in your chest, spreading through to the rest of your body.

Safe, you thought.

Mirage made you feel safe.

“Somethin’ on your mind, pretty?”

A quick huff of a laugh left your lungs. You didn’t reply, just taking in his face; eyes, nose, cheeks and lips. Speaking of…

Lifting an arm, you made a grabbing motion with your hand. Like a child, you knew, but neither of you really cared too much. The mech eagerly lowered his helm, resting it in your outstretched hand. Your eyes narrowed ever so slightly to focus as you reached up with your other hand, thumbs grazing the sides of his face. His metal was mostly smooth - the occasional scratch or scar littered across it. Despite his best efforts to keep his finish clear and shiny, you actually liked all of the marks that were either too small or too deep to buff out. You thought they were pretty on him. You thought he was pretty.

The metal under your palms seemed to warm the longer you stared. When your previous thought returned to you, you gently tugged his helm towards you. He got the message and leaned further down, face mere inches from yours. Eyes flicking from optics to lips, you didn’t waste any more time in meeting him the rest of the way.

Your lips met. He sighed into the kiss, lifting a servo to rest it on top of your smaller hand. There was nothing desperate or rushed in it. It was soft. It was nice. Thoughts melted away as you closed your eyes, running your other hand over his jaw and just focusing on the feeling of him.

Even as you broke the kiss for air you just kept looking at him, caught in the most unfamiliar but simultaneously most familiar set of eyes you’d ever known.

The giant mechanical alien from somewhere out there in the universe who had been the only one to ever make you feel so genuinely safe and cared about tilted his helm.

“So… this definitely means I’m your favorite, right?”

You scoffed, giving him a light swat, “You always were, stupid.”

[rain-in-the-clouds]

I think we're alone now.

Mirage x Human F!!Reader. Fluff, Angst, Sumt.

WARNINGS: Mentiones of sexual harassment, sexual harassment, graphic depictions of sexual acts. Minors DNI!!! 18+ only.

Word Count: 7,128

Y/n was busy at work, rushing back 'n forth between different groups of truckers. The dinner was packed when midnight rolled around at a snail's speed, Y/n was slammed with work and slow all at once. Even at the late hour the dinner was hectic, despite it and the truck stop now the only business open. Y/n rushed to get done, attempting to be polite to the last few of her tables, but it mostly came off as exhausted contempt. Her tips by the end of the night were abysmal. But finally she could leave, strolling through the truck stop first.

Y/n walked up and down the few isles, idly singing What's love got to do with it. At the counter Y/n left the cash for her goods and waved the only other worker off. However Y/n didn't notice the eyes watching her as she walked out into the small parking lot. The small area was only lit by two yellowing street lights, there were only a handful of cars in the lot; all old looking and dirty. Not very distinctive considering she didn't know what the other bots' alt modes are. Ultimately Y/n went to each car and tried to examine them, but the dim light did not help her.

Until she came to the end of the line where a mismatched Porsche 911 sat, Y/n peered around, having a sense of unease settled on her, but there was no one. So she scanned the smaller car for anything of significance. Feeling ridiculous she stopped at the hood, a small trickle of light was hitting the car, it was just enough to see the all too familiar Autobot emblem in the center on the hood. A wash of relief hit her.

“Oh thank god.” Y/n sighed with a breath of relief, nearly collapsing onto the hood. A soft hand gliding over the small emblem as she drifts in her thoughts, her thumb circling and running over the small symbol, converting every detail to memory. So lost in thought she didn't register the engine igniting beneath her touch, nor the two men standing behind her.

“Hey there lil'thang.” One of the burley men said while trying to grab Y/n's arm. Surprised, Y/n whipped around pulling her arm from the man's grip, nearly shrieking out. She ended up with her butt and lower back pressed against the hood. Before she could speak or move the second man took a step closer, “Is this your car sugar?” Both men were intimidating, Y/n recognized them from the dinner, they'd tried to grab at her then too.

Y/n's heart was pounding in her chest, but she held what little composer she had left. “Y-yeah it is.” Her tone was confident, but she still stuttered.

“Lookin a little beat up, you fixin it yourself?” The first man was closer now, leaning in more than appropriate. The fake polite conversation had Y/n's skin crawling.

“Yes, it's Nevada, hard to get parts,” Y/n spoke through her bile, each word coming with a bite to it. Y/n however took the opportunity to slide over the hood, her work skirt hiking up ever so slightly, revealing just enough of her legs; the two men moved forward again. “But I've got it handled.” In a rush Y/n slid over the hood and headlight, back stepping to the door, a clammy hand groping the handle; internally pleading they'd let her in.

The two men moved around the front of the car, attempting to close in on Y/n, when the door suddenly opened. Y/n wasted no time climbing into the driver seat, the door slammed shut, the engine roaring fully to life before speeding forward; intentionally almost hitting the two men as the Porsche sped off into the desert.

Not a few miles out and Y/n breathed a deep shaky sign, harshly rubbing her hands over her arms. “Thank you.” Y/n's voice was small, but full of gratitude.

Mirage was silent a bit, the whole experience leaving a bitter taste on his golassa. The fear, anger and relief Y/n went through in less then five minutes had the mech rapidly speeding in an unknown direction, the sand he was whipping up left large clouds in his wake. But hearing that same wash of emotions in Y/n's voice despite her being far from the situation had him slowing down to a near crawl.

“It’s alright.” Mirage's voice came out from his radio, gentle and soft despite the anger in his spark. “I'm sorry…” The mech trailed off, uncertain of what or how to say what he wanted. Y/n smiled warmly at his radio, that unique tenderness returning to her expression.

“It’s okay. Thank you though, it means more than I can say.” Y/n sighed again, but it was more like she was pushing the rest of those negative thoughts and emotions out. “But I don't want to dwell on it.” She said finally but her smile and the light hearted way she taped his dash hinted towards her now relaxed demeanor. Mirage still felt revved up, but listened to her nonetheless.

A beat of silence fell on them, Mirage internally stuck in his slowly dissipating frustration, as if Y/n could see into his helm, she pulled him from his thoughts. “Mirage,” She started, her voice was sweet but mischievous, but to Mirage, his name on her lips lit something in his spark he wasn't prepared for. “Would you like to go to the track tunnels?” Her tone mocked innocence.

Mirage recognized this knowing himself well, “Depending on what that exactly is?” He said mimicking Y/n's tone.

Y/n failed at stifling a giggle. “It's an abandoned half constructed highway. It's used as a racetrack by pretty much anyone in town under 30.” Y/n rolled her eyes at her one words. “It's a good place to blow off steam, but it's still early in the night so you probably can't transform.” She was hopeful the idea would interest the mech, vehemently not wanting to go home just yet.

Mirage paused for a minute, pretending to think it over, but when he made a sharp turn, causing Y/n to slide in the drive seat, joyfully shrinking out in a fit of laughter; they both knew where they were headed.

However Y/n was correct in the assumption that there would be people at the track, several teenagers with their souped-up cars racing around, other small clumps in the tunnels gathered together drinking and partying the night away. But quickly Y/n and Mirage found comfort and release in speeding through the tunnels and around the makeshift concrete track, even making a few rogue jumps here and there. But after a few hours their racing rampage was cut short by Sam and Chromia.

Mirage was rounding a turn, Y/n cheering him on from the driver seat, the two speeding into the longest tunnel for the hundredth time that night when Chromia pulled up behind them with Sam in her driver's seat.

Through the radio Sam called out, “What the hell are you two doing? You were supposed to be back hours ago.” In moments like this he sounded like Charlie.

Y/n's eyes widened for a split second at the radio before she twisted around to see Sam and Chromia a bit behind them, even with Mirage's alt mode being less than perfect, he was still faster. “I had a long day Sam, come on.” She whined at them, despite it being true.

“Yeah Sam, come on.” Mirage mimicked, dramatizing Y/n's tone, effectively teasing her, as her response was to playfully smack the dashboard.

“Not helping Mirage.” Chromia was sturn, “Let's get back.” But similar to Sam it disappeared quickly, finding enjoyment in the late night drive.

In the end Sam and Chromia decided not to tell by wager of a race back to the Bunker. Mirage and Y/n won. The Bunker was dead quiet when they arrived, Sam and Chromia parting ways soon after, leaving Mirage and Y/n in the main 'hanger'.

“That was great.” Y/n said breathlessly, her cheeks dusted red and a bright smile plastered to her lips.

Mirage felt warm all over, something about this night, about her, had him charged up and peaceful all at once. And seeing Y/n punch drunk on adrenaline wasn't helping. “Yeah that was. I haven't gotten to move like that in cycles!” However Mirage didn't feel like he was containing his energy.

Y/n stared up at him, taking a quick moment to really take the mech in, his sterling cerulean optics captivating her. “We should do it again, soon.” Y/n felt emboldened by the rush and pending crash of adrenaline, “But I gotta sleep before my legs give out,” Y/n had started walking backwards towards her room as she spoke, “Goodnight, Mirage.” Y/n spoke a little slower, emphasizing his name, but what made the mech's spark burn was the coy wink and the persing of her lips before she spun on her heel and disappeared into her room; leaving Mirage standing dumbfounded in the hanger.

“Forward for a human.” Mirage thought while he hummed to himself. He watched her bedroom door for a moment, replaying the night in his helm, he smiled to himself, “Goodnight, Y/n.” His voice was quiet, but somewhere he hoped she'd heard him.

— —

Several weeks had passed since that night, in that time Mirage came up with every excuse to spend time with Y/n, whether it be taking her to or from work, or sneaking off during patrols to the track, he couldn't get enough of her. And she was equally as smitten, but neither could find it in themselves, or the "right time" to say as much to each other. However they still had their awkward moments, where even from space their feelings for each other could be seen.

It came to ahead the night Mirage and Chromia were off from patrol, and Y/n and Sam were free from work. The four decided to see a movie at the drive in, deciding on what to see by vote; ending up on Alien. Much to Y/n's dismay, who found it a little odd to see a supposedly scary movie about aliens with aliens, but was also unprepared for horror.

The two bots parked as far back as possible, tuning into the drive-in's frequency, it was a crystal clear night, perfect for this occasion. Sam was in Chromia's drivers seat, happily watching the movie while munching on some snack he'd snuck through. Whereas Y/n, who was curled up in Mirage's seat, was gripping the soft leather of the seat tightly in her hands, her face tucked behind her knees; unfounded terror gripping her imagination with each scene. They'd gotten a little over half way through the movie when Y/n just couldn't watch anymore.

“No. Nope, no no.” She said repeatedly, grabbing for the door handle, but Mirage wouldn't let her out.

“We can leave.” He stated simply, completely understanding and willing to do whatever Y/n needed. He started to back out, switching his radio to speak to Chromia and Sam. “Hey, we're gonna split. See ya back at the Bunker.” Mirage didn't give any explanation nor the two a chance to question the mech before he was driving off.

Half way back to the Bunker Y/n let out an aggravated huff, “Ughhh. Why am I like this.” She spoke with a whine, but the gravel that came with annoyance was still present. Mirage just chuckled, the sound normally a comfort for Y/n just annoyed her more in the moment. “It's not funny Mirage.”

The mech held in another chuckle, “I know but it's okay. You're totally safe, ya know?” A pause happened in their conversation when they arrived at the Bunker, the place was empty save for Prowl who was somewhere in his lab, but the rest of the bots were out on patrol and Charlie working a night shift. The two ended up on the bot sized couch sitting somewhat close together.

“I mean, they're not even real Y/n.” Mirage was trying to comfort her, but the situation baffled him slightly.

“How can you say that when you're real. I'm real. So who's really to say.” Y/n retorted, despite not wanting to be scared by a movie, the goofy conversation was oddly enjoyable.

Mirage went to speak but stopped when he mulled the thought over a moment, he put on his most confident smile and leaned a little closer to Y/n, “Fair, but I'm right here, I'll keep you safe.” Though it started as a silly teasing argument, Mirage was slipping little things about his feelings into what he said.

Y/n smiled, throwing a hand over her face to hide the stifled laugh. “Their blood is literally acid, if their not vaporized or somethin their blood'll eat right through you. What am I supposed to do then, huh?”

Mirage cocked a brow at her, that devilish smirk that made Y/n's stomach flip appeared on his lips, “So you'd worry about me?” The mech was leaning in closer, his arm was loosely hanging over the back of the couch so he could be covertly closer to Y/n, but now with how the two were sitting his helm was so close to her, he could feel the warmth that radiated from her.

Y/n was blushing madly, the red tinting all the way to her ears. “Mirage!” She playfully shoved at his chassis , knowing it wouldn't move him even if she did try. But all the gesture did was bring them closer together, as her hand landed on the smooth metal she slipped forward, her chest now pressed up against his chassis , faces inches apart. Y/n stopped, all thoughts left her head in that instant, lost in the desire to close the gap between them. Mirage was equally as stunned, unsure what to do, but so certain of what he wanted. He was so close to leaning in and connecting their lips, but at the last second they both pulled away. Y/n scooted away, but not far, mumbling “Sorry, bout that.” As she did.

“No worries.” Mirage smiled softly, the smallest hint of disappointment in his optics. But the moment was still awkward and leaving both of them tensed. Mirage went to move, not necessarily leave, but Y/n stopped him.

“Would you stay…out here?” She wasn't scared anymore, wasn't even thinking about the movie, but internally it was her excuse as to why she asked.

Mirage stopped the second she asked, slipping back into his spot without question. “Yeah. Of course.” He answered as if it was the silliest thing she could have said. The mech grabbed a small blanket just big enough of Y/n from the opposite couch and draped it over her. The two fell into a comfortable silence and soon after into a deep sleep.

— —

Two weeks after the movie and almost kiss, Mirage was on a night patrol while Y/n was at work. The night was moving slowly for both Mirage and Y/n, one passively driving around the town and grater area, and the other running from table to table as if her life depends on it. It was rounding 11pm when a group came in, one Y/n instantly recognized; her friend Kirby and his gang of weirdos.

They came in loud, moving through the whole dinner until they found a too small table for them, but they crammed into the booth nonetheless. The two other servers working avoided them like the plague. Y/n held off seeing them until she had no choice. The group was still in that same booth, Y/n smiled at Kirby, silently pleading for the night to be over.

“Hey Kirby. Guys. What can I do for ya tonight?” Y/n was exhausted, but she fought it. Kirby was all too happy to see Y/n.

“We're doin fabulous Sweets, gonna be heading to the track after this. It'd be cool if you'd come with us.” Kirby coolly slipped the invitation into the conversation. Y/n paused, knowing he and his group would ask, in that moment she was thankful for her job however. Y/n was about to decline, but like she was made out of smoke Jessie appeared next to Y/n.

“The track huh? Well Y/n I think it'd be good for you. Why not take the rest of the night for yourself huh?” Kirby and his gang lit up, now overly excited for such a mundane occurrence. Y/n wanted to retort, wanted to decline, but Jessie leaned in just enough so only Y/n could hear. “Just get them out of here. I don't care if you go, just get them gone and I'll give you a raise.” Jessie clapped her hands loud with a boisterous smile before leaving. This threw all plans Y/n had out the window. Normally when Y/n would get off work Mirage would be waiting for her, but it was hours early and he wasn’t done with patrol yet. Kirby knew before his group walked in that Y/n didn’t have her car today, she had very little to use to get out of the hang out.

Begrudgingly she agreed, first stopping to change out of her work uniform and into the clothes she’d already had in her bag; the outfit she was planning on wearing for Mirage. But she did not want to be at the track in a skirt with Kirby and his friends. In no time after the cluster of friends left, they were at the track tunnels outside of town; some were racing, but Y/n was adamant that she was not getting on the track. Truth be told she didn’t trust but two human’s behind the wheel and neither were there with her. Y/n and Kirby were leaning against his mustang that was parked in the gravel just off the track. Other cars were parked alongside them, some with people standing around and others rocking with intimate activities.

Y/n was standing a little always from Kirby, watching cars go by, mind wandering elsewhere. But Kirby was slowly moving closer, Y/n didn’t notice at first, used to his flirting; but something was off.

A little before midnight Mirage was back in town to do one last drive through before picking up Y/n. However when he got to Jessie’s he picked up no scans of Y/n. Thinking his sensors were bugged out he scanned again, but after three attempts and still no sign of Y/n he knew she wasn’t anywhere in the area and especially not the dinner. The mech pulled towards the building and parked as close as he could before giving it one last ditch try.

Back at the track, Y/n was deep in thought, totally unaware that Kirby was now right next to her, their arms would have been touching but Kirby slung his arm around Y/n's shoulder, pulling her flush against his chest. Both unaware of the Porsche that had quietly pulled in behind Kirby's Mustang.

Kirby was too close, his words fanned over Y/n's face. “So Y/n, I know I'm not the most subtle guy around, but Would you wanna go out sometime? You could always kick my ass in another race.” He was smiling like he'd just won a prize, his arm was loose over Y/n but his hold was firm.

“Oh.” Y/n knew what was coming, but the question and situation had her nerves on edge, “Kirby.” She started trying to take a step away. “As sweet as that is, I'm just-” She cut herself off, unsure of how to say it, how to explain that no human interested her; but she was struck with the unexplainable feeling of being watched by unseen eyes. “I'm not interested in anyone–man, right now. Okay?” Y/n hoped that she was direct enough, but the words felt wrong, like she was being too vague.

Kirby pulled his arm back, still smiling, both hands snakking into his pockets. But he was being too quiet. “It's all cool. Better to try and fail blah blah.” Y/n let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in, returning the smile, happy to be over this situation. However when Y/n looked at Kirby, he was closing the small distance, trying for a kiss. Y/n's eyes shot open wide, automatically she took a large step back, hands out to stop the unwanted advance. Kirby did stop, but not because Y/n was backing away, but because the Porsche's alarm started blaring the loudest it ever had. Both Y/n and Kirby stopped in place.

“Is that your car?” He asked, surprised and clearly annoyed. “Did Sam drop it off?” Kirby was having to yell over the alarm.

“I guess.” Y/n ran to the drivers side, irked that the 'door' wouldn't open. “Look I gotta go, get this figured out!” Y/n was screaming so much her throat hurt, all while struggling with the door. Yet the moment she said that the door violently flew open.

Y/n jumped into the car, having to pretend to mess with the ignition, “Mirage! What are you doing?” The mech didn't answer, instead slamming his door shut, stopping the alarm and revving his 'engine' as hard as he could before spinning out and speeding off and away.

Mirage was pissed. Though he knew he had no reason to be, had no real right to feel so jealous. But seeing that spindly human hug, flirt and try to kiss Y/n, even after she'd clearly rejected him, had his spark flaring red. Mirage was driving so fast that Y/n was pressed into the seat, forces silent by the speed. While Mirage was stuck replaying the less-than-five minutes incident in his helm. What snapped him out of his thoughts were two things; one being the Bunker closing in and Y/n.

“Mirage, what the fuck is going on with you!” She was near screaming again, feeling as if he wasn't listening to her.

The Bunker's door was open, the only ones inside were Sam and Chromia. Mirage slowed just enough to not skid out when he sped into the 'hanger', driving past the two and down the hall to his berth. Both Sam and Chromia shared the same expression of confusion and mild surprise.

Mirage didn't transform until they were out of sight, holding Y/n in one arm pressed against his chassis while he stormed into his berth. Y/n tired to question things again. “What's goin-”

“He tried to kiss you!” Mirage interrupted, for the first time in front of Y/n yelled. His voice filled with so much emotion. Y/n was stunned, never in all the moments that they've shared, had she send him so angry or upset. Y/n assumed it was pent-up anger from everytime Mirage witnessed her being hit on or gawked at. Despite being in his own room, Mirage was still holding Y/n.

“Mirage, I know. I was there. And I didn't want it.” Y/n spoke with a bite and harsher tone then intended. “But why are you freaking out?”

Mirage scoffed, causing Y/n to pull away, as much as she could in his hold. “Why aren't you? Why are you okay with them treating you like that?” Mirage was veering into unknown territory; yes the mech hates seeing random men flirt or try to touch her, that first night in Jessie's lot, he about transformed to bat those two men away. But this was something else. Y/n had captured his whole spark, he was her's, spark, body and soul.

However, Y/n wasn't in the mood to have this argument and bit back, “What's it to you huh? Why should you care?” Her words betrayed her feelings. Truthfully she wanted Mirage to care, to hold her in a loving and compassionate way. Instead there they were, in his berth, needlessly arguing.

Mirage let loose. “Why would I care?” The mech questioned first, his voice harsh. “Of course I care Y/n! I care about you! I care that you're safe a-and happy. Why wouldn't I care about the person I love!” Mirage let the words and feelings out before he could stop himself, but he screwed his mouth shut the instant the words left him, his optics looking anywhere but at the woman in his hold. But his hold on her didn't wane, in fact he held her a bit closer, despite anticipating rejection. All but knowing he was the one being in the universe she wouldn't.

“Mirage.” Y/n spoke so softly she wondered if he could even hear, but slowly he turned his gaze back to her. Y/n summoned all the confidence she had in her, and then some; with the one arm she had around Mirage's neck, pulled herself up, finally connecting her lips to his.

The kiss was soft and full of all the passion, even with the size difference Y/n's lips fit perfectly against Mirage's own. But the kiss was short, as fast as Y/n had done it, she was already pulling away; leaving Mirage wanting more.

The two stared at each other for a long moment, both fully processing what just happened. Neither got far. Mirage pressed their lips together again, his metallic lips slotting against Y/n's. When he pulled away he had the biggest, brightest smile; even the blue light of his spark shined brighter.

“I knew you had a thing for me.” The mech said while wearing a coy smirk. But Y/n knows how to play his game.

“Oh, so you don't want to kiss me again? You can just put me down then.” She spoke with a playful tone while lightly patting his chassis. Though Mirage took it half-seriously, holding her a little closer.

“No. T-That's not what I meant.” His words were rushed, “I'd very very much like to kiss you again.” Mirage, seeing Y/n's kiss swollen lips, had his confidence and cockieness back up; leaning his helm closer so his lips were to her ear, “I'd like to do a lot more than just that, Y/n.” The mech emphasized her name by grazing his lips over her ear and down her jaw. Y/n's whole body was hot, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief second before Mirage pulled away once again; now being the one to leave Y/n wanting more.

However, in that same instant, an intense wave of nervousness stuck her. Calming up, she pulled her arms against her chest. Almost instantly Mirage relaxed his hold, moving to his berth. The mech set Y/n down gingerly, sitting next to her in the same motion.

“I'm sorry Y/n. I-I didn't I…” Mirage's mind jumped to all the unwanted advances Y/n had gone through in the short time he'd known her, comparing himself to those men. Y/n silenced him before he could spiral further by wrapping her arms back around his neck and pulling him into a hug.

“Mirage it's not like that. I love you too.” Y/n spoke her feelings to his chassis, holding onto him tightly. The mech returned the embrace, gently wrapping an arm around her frame.

Y/n pulled back a bit, but didn't let go, “I'm just-” Her face began to heat up, embarrassment flooding her, but Mirage was listening earnestly. “I just..lack…experience…” Y/n was internally smacking herself, her words failing her at the worst of times. “Sexually.” She said finally, a bit too loud. “A-and it's not that I don't wanna, in fact I'd very much like to-” Y/n cut herself off abruptly, looking at Mirage, he held the same expression as the night of the movie. Y/n's stomach flipped before pooling into a deep heat in her core, her mouth suddenly gone dry; a sharp quiet inhale was all she could muster.

Mirage brought his servo up, ghosting over her head before two digits swiped Y/n's hat from her head, she let out a gasp that had Mirage bursting with laughter. Y/n pushed at him, “Not funny, Mirage.” But he refused to let her go.

“I's just teasin ya.” The mech spoke through his laughter, quickly stifling it all together. “Seriously,” Suddenly Mirage was very stern, holding Y/n's attention. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to, and I never want you to feel obligated to do anything.” He paused to pull Y/n a bit closer, lowering his helm to her forehead. “I'm happy if you're happy, everything else is a bonus.” Y/n's lips bloomed a smile so warm and soft, barely moving to quickly peck his face plate.

“Thank you, Mirage.”

— —

Y/n stared a second longer into his cerulean optics before planting another kiss on his lips. This one much longer, full of passion, desire and yearning. The only reason Y/n pulled away was to gasp for air. Mirage laughed at that too, it subsided at the sight of her flush face, sultry expression and swollen lips.

She leaned back in, pressing her face to his, “I do want to do more with you.” Y/n spoke clearly, confirming her consent and intent. “I'm just not sure how this'll work physically.” She said while gesturing between them.

Mirage simply smiled, a servo soothingly rubbing her back. “It'll work.” He said with his signature cocky grin. “Trust me. I've given it a lot of thought.” It took so much for him not to laugh at his own joke. It turned out to be easy, Y/n gasped in response, whether real or playful Mirage took the opportunity and captured her mouth with his. Still he asked for permission, by darting his glossa over her lower lip. Y/n gladly let him explore her mouth.

The mech was entranced by the feeling of her petal soft lips and the heavenly sweet taste of her. Y/n found the metallic taste and smooth texture of him intoxicating. Mirage moved a servo down her back till he was cupping her ass, gently squeezing and groping, a moan was caught in her throat. His other servo came up to her waist, dressing up and down, a stray digit drifting over her chest. Only separating so Y/n could breath, Mirage placed both servos on her hips, gently guiding her to lie down. But Y/n stopped, sat at the edge of his berth and kicked off her shoes. She went to pull her shirt off but was halted by Mirage's servo seizing her arm.

The mech's lips were to her ear again, “Let me do that.” His voice was low and heavy. Experimentally he nipped at her ear, kissing and licking his way down her neck, stopping at the crook to bite just hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to hurt. The action and sensation had another whiny, wanting moan slipping from Y/n. Mirage again guided her to the center of his berth, laying her down all the while showering her in kisses.

Mirage stopped to appreciate Y/n below him. Her hair falling around her head and face, skin soft, warm and flushed. He started with her shirt, gliding his servos over the soft mounds of her chest, teasingly squeezing before slipping down further. His digits sliding under the black fabric, pausing to trace along her pant line, feeling her soft skin; drinking in every little sensation and motion she made. Y/n wasn't wearing an undershirt of any kind, her chest bare for the mech hovering above her. Mirage's optics were a blaze with desire, his glossa darting out to swipe over his lips. He asked for permission one last time, his gaze locked on Y/n face. She nodded impatiently.

Without hesitation the mech cupped her breast in his servo, the cool metal perking the small bud of nerves. The mech tentatively licked his glossa over her nipple, soft whimpers and moans escaped Y/n as Mirage explored her chest and her sensitivities. When he finally made his way down to her pants it took everything in him not to tear them to threads off with his denta.

At an agonizingly slow pace, the mech peeled Y/n's pants down her legs, not wasting time, pulling her underwear off in the same motion. Y/n's first instinct was to snap her legs shut, but she was comfortable, warm and filled with a sense of security, so she stayed put, watching the stunning mech through half lidded eyes.

Mirage spread her legs, fully settling between them. He took a moment to kiss and stare at her center, causing a shudder to rock through her. Slowly Mirage kisses up her thigh, nipping the soft flesh, licking the small mark he'd made. With his optics welded to her wet core, he slid his glossa over her folds, her legs already beginning to shake. Lapping at her increasing wetness, optics drifted shut as he fell into the pure taste and pleasure of Y/n.

Mirage was fully between Y/n's legs, flat on his chassis with his legs out behind him. The mech had found a rhythm of his liking. His glossa pressed between her wet folds and licked up to the oversensitive bud of nerves, swirling the metal appenday around until she was near crying; each time he'd flick his glossa over her clit she had to suppress the volume of her moans, bucking her hips into the mech's mouth. But each time she'd buck or push against him, trying to chase her release, Mirage would pull back just enough to leave her whimpering; her eyes became pricked with tears of ecstasy. Deciding she was ready for more, Mirage spread her legs a little further apart until they were over his shoulders, her feet propped up on his wheels; with his servos gripping her ass and thighs, he used his thumbs to gently spread open Y/n's weeping hole, all the while he hadn't stopped. The mech's optics drifted from her pleasure contorted expression to her center, embarrassment floods Y/n again, her body shaking and pussy dripping with want.

Y/n was thrown further into the waves of ecstasy by Mirage's glossa sliding past her entrance and all the way into her tight hole. Y/n let out a long and loud moan, the sudden sensation had her quaking, turning her into a whimpering, moaning mess. Y/n lost all composer, forgoing holding her sounds back as Mirage relentlessly fucked her with his glossa; his face plate shinny with her slick. Y/n's whole body was sticky with sweat, her mind blank, eyes barely able to stay open, always falling back to Mirage's optics, who was watching her every move, expression and sound. Faster then she was expecting, her climax was fast approaching. Her entire body began to shake, her hands near frantically searching for something to grip onto, settling on two of Mirage's digits that were curled around either hip. Mirage soothingly ceressed and messaged her soft hips and thighs, coaching her through her orgasm. When the knot in her core finally snapped, the moan that erupted from Y/n had Mirage turning merciless; holding her hips and thighs firmly in place, forcing her still while his glossa darted in and out of her. Sliding from his intake all the way to the bottom of her core. Mirage didn't remove himself until he was satisfied she'd cum completely and fully. Y/n gasped at the sudden empty feeling, whining at the loss.

The mech licked her clean, joyously overstimulating her. Y/n was a puddle underneath Mirage, his large frame caging her in completely. Mirage gazed down at Y/n, totally and unabashedly adoring every part of her. Her mind was blank, fucked silent. Mirage's optics dragged up and down Y/n's body, watching the fast rise 'n fall of her chest, stopping again at her center. Mirage was sitting on his knees, tall above Y/n, he was thinking on all the things he wants to do, but stuck on what to do next. Staring at her weeping core, the mech's gaze shifted briefly to his servo before zeroing back in on her. Y/n was recovering, her body slowly returning to it's medien; her attention drawn to the mech between her legs, who was wearing a devilish look on his helm.

Mirage let his mischievous curiosity get the better of him; with one servo he again held Y/n's hip firmly in place, with his free servo he coated his middle digit in her slick. Circling her clit with his pad, gliding down till he was lined up and slowly pushing in. Y/n's eyes flew open, a deep groan roaring from her chest as Mirage pushed his digit all the way in, bottoming out till his palm was flat against her. Y/n was drunk on pleasure, rutting her hips into the mech's servo. Mirage watched her face, her eyes rolling back and closed, her mouth lulling open as moan after moan fell from her.

The mech lowed his helm to her, scraping his lips over her face, hot breath and smooth metel cool on her skin. “Ah-uh, that's my job Lil'Blu.” His voice was full of list, low just for Y/n as he pumped his digit into her. The new nickname combined with the thick digit buried inside her had her fluttering tightly around the smooth but ribbed digit. She cluthed onto his arm, her head thrown back, his name falling from her lips in a slurred half mumbled manor. Mirage wore a sultry smile that shorn down at her, kissing his way up and down her body, whispering sweet dirty things to her; “You're so good for me. Love the way you sound for me.” What pushed her over the edge was Mirage, “I'm gonna fuck you like this every night, Lil'Blu.” Before he bit her neck again. The moan that started deep erupted like a scream from Y/n, clamping down around his digit, but he didn't stop, his digit and servo covered in her slick juices. While he fingered her through another climax, the mech let his spike out, positioning himself so his spike was above his servo but sweetly rubbing against her oversensitive clit, with a few thrust of his hips his spike was also coated in her wetness, in one motion he removed his digit and lined up his spike.

When his optics came to her face he thought his spark would stop. Y/n was looking at him in a way no being ever had, her eyes were somehow as bright as his, her lips parted, but a welcoming smile was still presnt. Y/n threw her arms up hoping to wrap them around his neck, but she only reached his chassis, with a soft gaze he silently chuckled; but he lowed himself so she could be holding onto him, their lips connecting into a light passion filled kiss. Mirage was a cage for Y/n, his whole body near covering her, using the new closeness he slowly pushed his spike into her; Y/n braking the kids to gasp, wrapping her legs around his hips locking him in place, her face buried in his neck.

It was slow and deeply intamate, from how he was holding onto Y/n, to how carefully he entered her. With enough patients he was able to get their his flush together. Y/n was about lost in pleasure, holding onto Mirage like a lifeline to reality, but she reveled in the feeling of the mech, his body, so intracate and strong, she felt safe. Mirage had been holding back for so long, watching, teasing and wondering, finally connected to Y/n in the most intamate way, it wasn't long before he was pounding into her. “Feel so good Y/n~.” Mirage was whispering and whimpering to her, his words barely formed as he couldn't contain his own pleasure. “Wanted you for s' long.”

Mirage's thrust were becoming irratic, losing rhythm as his own overload began. His release was long, pushing Y/n over the edge of her final climax. Still holding her close, Mirage vented a gust of hot air, effectively warming Y/n's legs, before he collapsed beside her. The two lay together for sometime recovering. Y/n blinking away the few pleasure made tears, while Mirage hid his spike back behind his modesty plate. Recovering faster then Y/n, the mech sprung up from the berth and left his private room, leaving a still punch-drunk Y/n confused. Not five minutes and he returned, he had with him a towel, two pillows and a blanket for Y/n. He was very serious when he said he'd be there for her.

While they cuddled, Y/n laying on top of Mirage, a pillow tucked under her head and stomach. Like this she could fall asleep while staring at Mirage. The mech had switched off the light and pulled the blanket over Y/n, but before she started to sleep, a thought hit her.

“Mirage?”

“Hmm.”

“How did you find me? By the way.” Mirage chuckled softly.

“I asked Jessie.” His tone was tired but still teasingly matter-of-factly.

Y/n popped up on her elbows, “Seriously?” Her expression and tone skeptical.

“Seriously. I just used my holoform. Ya know a hologram-humany-me. Told 'er I was your friend, 'nd she told me where you went.” He never dropped the tone despite his speech being slurred by exhaustion.

“No way.” Y/n gawked at the mech. “I didn't know you could do that.” Y/n smiled to herself, imagining what a "human" Mirage would look like. “You'll have to show me sometime.” She spoke while curling up on his chassis, close to drifting into sleep.

“I will. Promise.” He adjusted slightly so he had a servo resting on her lower back.

“I love you Mirage.” Her voice was small and tired, but the smile seen only lit from the light of his spark had Mirage leaning down for one final peck.

“I love you too, Y/n. Get some sleep.” The two fell fast asleep, together in each other's arms.

[tfwriting]

ROTB! Mirage x Human! Reader

A/n: Lolz I am back, since then I have written this when I was in the theater yesterday so here.

WARNING LEMON LOLZ

"M-Mirage!~" You moaned out, Mirage was slowly grinding into you.

"Shhh, quiet. (N/N)~ I don't want anyone to know that we're doing this." Yeah, Mirage and you were busy fucking each other. You were the younger sister of Noah and the eldest sister of Chris.

You looked at Mirage, ever since Noah found Mirage, you've fell in love with him, it was not easy hiding your relationship with Optimus and even Noah.

Optimus more because he didn't like humans, well Noah explained because he missed home, you bit your lip and looked at Mirage. He purred and licked your neck while giving bite marks on your neck.

"Mm, baby, do you want the clones this time?" Mirage asked. Mirage usually uses his clone/hologram ability to pleasure you at both ends, you didn't even know that there was more holes on a female until Mirage used all of them. You laid on the couch with your legs spread out.

"Maybe next time, Mirage." You said with a smile, Mirage had a sly grin on his face as he began to eat you out.

"Mirage! A-Ah!" You moaned, you remembered when Noah and you stumbled inside of Mirage on accident. That's when you fell in love with Mirage's voice, his way of earth speak, his smooth talking. Everything.

You moaned and held onto the scruffy couch, it creaked under the weight of you and the added weight of Mirage.

"Fuck! Oh!.A-Ah! Mirage fuck I'm cumming!" You cried.

"Mmm, Cum for me, (Y/n)." He said biting your neck seductively. You gasped out and released against him.

[emouwuwu]

Mirage ai (⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)

[cyberapid]

Happy (?) Reunions

ROTB Mirage x Cybertronian! Reader

Reader is gender neutral but described as larger than Mirage. :)

—•—•—

His face plate is smooth, yet uneven under your servos. The ridges a reminder of the rough living you’ve all had, scrapes and dents that just couldn’t be buffed from his plate yet the familiarity after years of separation sends you into a giddy laugh which he returns in kinda as his vents let out a low thrum you can feel within your chassis with how close both your chest plates are pushed together. His servos slide on top of yours to lock your digits together with a soft click, gently cradling the mechanism. 

The bliss of the moment is short lived as his excitement is quickly replaced by worry as the small mechanics that make up his face plate shift into a nervous grimace below your digits, which he quickly removed from his helm instead opting to hold them in between the two of you, 

“Listen. You can’t be mad. Prime is gonna be pissed enough so you gotta be with me babe- hear me out, ok?” 

His smile is nervous and slightly desperate as he looks up to you, anxiously fidgeting with your digits that dwarf his. His head turns just off to the side, turning your head the same and you’re met with a human, frightened and gripping a metal pipe so tight that his servos— Hands— have turned white. 

       “Mirage. You didn’t,” you breath as your vents audibly shudder, you might stall out this time. 

All excitement from the reunion is lost, releasing your grip on his servos as your attention is turned towards the human man who’s taken to pointing the pipe at you. Turning your frame towards him you dwarf not only your Conjunx but the human he’s stown away. 

“You had one job- To stay hidden and you couldn’t handle that? Is your processor malfunctioning or have you not bothered to use it at all?” 

The words come out harsher than intended as his servos quickly grasp for your own. An attempt to greedily pull your gaze back to him even with its disappointment, but something twinges in your spark as his optical ridges shift with worry- almost pleading-

He’s placating you and it’s working, slag.

 “In my defense he wasn’t supposed to be there! Broke in and just happened to hear Prime-,” 

Here comes the excuses, out of his perfect yet immature intake,

 “—So in a sense it’s Primes fault? I didn’t announce myself. I played it cool, as always. Primes just got a big mouth- intake. Whatever,” 

His preference for the humans words starts to irritate a petty part of your processor that’s already agitated with him, truthfully his enjoyment of the whole culture grinds your gears-

Rumbling outside interrupts any thoughts or complaints you might have had, but leaves your conjunx in a further panic along with the human who turns the pipe now towards the entrance where the others drive through,

 “Better start thinking of a better excuse, Sweetspark,” you hum to him, leaving to approach the team you haven’t seen in years with an apprehensive excitement.

[mskenway97]

ROTB Mirage realizing fem reader has a crush on him and teases her for it >:3

I had an idea for this request I hope you like it ^^

ROTB Mirage x Fem!human!reader

Ways of discover the love

Words: 1,057

Summary: You realize that Mirage is being a little weird, you didn't understand what was going on until you overheard a certain conversation.

Warning: g/t content , so fluff and sweet

I will put the links of pillowfort and ao3 to publish this application:

Pillowfort

Ao3

[jellyfishoreo1206]

WE ARE NOT SEEING ENOUGH OF MIRAGE GUYS

So I'm taking matters into my own goddamn hands-

Meeting Mirage ;)

Either Noah or Mirage might be a little OOC, but I'm giving it a shot

Takes place after the movie, with fem pronouns

Enjoy!

-------

Dude, where the hell are you?

Y/N was currently sent a page to Noah, her best friend of 3 years. He was suppose to pick her up from work, as her car broke down and is still getting fixed at the mechanics, but it was well over 20 minutes and he still hasn't showed. He was suppose to be there at 7:30, and now it's almost dark.

I'kl be there in 10 minutes! Domething just csme uo

Several typos, whatever the hell is happening over there is really making him either rush or panic... actually those are both kind of in the same sense.

Letting out a sigh through her nose, Y/N quickly typed out a response.

Yeah, yeah. Better keep to your promise, Sonic.

Not even letting him respond, the H/C-nette shoved the device into her coat pocket. Sure it may be the beginning of the summer, but she get cold easily.

And I mean very easily.

"Man, I really need a hot shower right now."

10 minutes breezed by quickly, seemingly in a blink of an eye. About to page Noah again, Y/N stopped in her tracks when a honk sounded in front of her.

Looking up, her eyes widen in complete surprise at the image in front of them. Her best friend, Noah Diaz, in a fucking Porsche. Well, it looked like it seen better days, but still.

"Yo, you gonna get in or are you just gonna stand there looking so surprised?" Noah shouted from inside the car, a smug look on his face.

Snapping out of it, Y/N got inside the car, buckling in her seatbelt.

Once the seatbelt clicked, Noah started the car onto the route back to Y/N's apartment complex. 5 minutes in and the two are making small talk and all that before Y/N asked him a question.

"So, what happened?"

"Hm?"

"To the Porsche. Looks like Frankenstein's monster."

Noah let's out a small chuckle at the comment, "Oh uh, some guy sold it to me for a good price. Because it was all banged up and stuff. Couldn't even start."

"When did you get it?"

"Got it 2 months ago, still has some kinks that need to be fixed. But we've made some progress." He patted the dashboard in a comforting way, a somber smile on his face.

"2 months ago? Weren't you in Perú during that time? Also is Reeks helping you fix the car?"

"Yeah. I think I made a pretty good decision going there..also Reeks is just helping me get the parts, I'm mainly doing the fixing."

"Mm, pretty good job so far. I could help with the paint job? The blue and silver seems to be fading out, but I think it a fresh coat will make it look gorgeous."

After she finished that comment, the car felt like it heated up a little. Not too much to notice, but just enough.

"By the way, what did you do in Perú again?"

"Oh, to study for a job I was doing..got to see some of the landscapes and all that..and nearly died-"

"What was that?"

"Wha-nothing! Don't worry about it at all."

A silence fell between you too, an awkward silence to be exact. He's a little more fidgety than usual.. probably from exhaustion. It's something he does whenever he's very tired. Man, he must be more exhausted than usual.

"Sorry I called you so late, like right after your new job and stuff. It must be tiring."

"Nah I don't mind, you're my best friend after all. Just returning the favor when you babysat Kris last minute." Now Y/N absolutely loves Noah's family. First time she met them, it felt like a bond just, instantly clicked within. So from that day on, she makes a little time out of her day just to visit the Diaz family, especially Kris. He was so sweet, and like the little brother she never had. So whenever Noah or his mom were busy, she babysits him, and brings some food so they can enjoy together.

"I don't mind babysitting Kris at all. He's like a little brother to me anyway."

"Yeah, that's Kris. Best little brother I could ever ask for." A soft smile comes to his face, maybe he should bring some food from that burger joint his family likes, before he goes home so his mom doesn't have to cook tonight.

"Yeah..Hey do you mind if I put in my playlist?"

"Go for it."

Grabbing a mixtape from her pocket, she inserts it into the slot right above the radio, turning the knob to hear what was currently playing.

The familiar rhythm of Virgen by Adolescent's Orquesta brings a smile to your face, increasing the volume as one of her favorite songs plays through the car. Every so often, she would sing along to the lyrics, taping her fingers against the door.

What Y/N didn't know, was a certain Autobot mech was observing her in the passenger seat mirror, noticing the small things about her that seemed to have caught even more of his interest. The moment she got in the car, Mirage had to admit, she was PRETTY. And the compliments she said? Wooo that was feeding his ego.

And she was drop-dead gorgeous, in his optics, he doesn't even know her one bit and he's on his knees just from the sound of her voice. Oh her voice, don't even get him started on her voice. Most purest thing he has ever heard since he had stepped foot on Earth. Got her filling his tanks with a fluttery feeling, or as Noah sometimes likes to refer to, butterflies. What a weird thing to say. (Ngl, I head cannon Mirage to fall in love FAST)

After those few thoughts, the mech started observing her other features. Her eyes, hair, lips, cheeks, hands, even the smallest of moles/freckles that were dotted across her face. Oh and when her smile plastered her face, Mirage felt his spark beat faster.

She was a beauty, a beauty in her own category..

Sadly he wasn't able to admire her much longer, as they stopped in front of her apartment, the sky now completely dark. About to open the car door, the lock clicks, preventing Y/N from getting out. Thinking nothing of it, Y/N goes to unlock it, but it keeps repeatedly locking itself. With a huff, Y/N turns to Noah.

"Dude can you stop that shit?"

"It's not me I swear! Li-like I said, Mir-! The car was all banged up when I got it, still got a few bugs in it.." And as subtly as possible, kept kicking right above the pedals. Not to harshly, but to get the message across to stop messing around.

Finally after what seemed to be forever, the car doors unlocked, with Y/N getting out of the car, making sure to grab her tape. Running a hand over the hood, not noticing the shudder of metal, Y/N waves goodbye to Noah before entering her building, already getting excited for her hot shower.

When Y/N was out of sight and earshot, Noah turned to the radio, somewhat pissed.

"Mirage, what the hell was that??"

"Whaaaat? I did nothing wrong. Also, ouch. Do you have to kick me that hard? I'm still recovering y'know." You could hear the teasing smile on his face, pulling the recovery card whenever.

"Mirage you can't do that."

"Why not? Not like she noticed anything."

"You just can't!"

"Aww but I wanna keep admiring la angel bonita un momento más."

"..what."

"I wanna keep ad-"

"I know what you said, but, seriously?"

"You gotta introduce me to her one day, Sonic."

"Mirage she's going to freak out!"

"Mm but what are the chances she won't? Pleaseeee? I won't stop bothering you unless you say yesss~" He coos in a sing-song voice.

"Nu uh, ain't happening. Just because you're acting like a kid doesn't mean you're getting it."

"Fine. But whenever you give her ride home, I'll just keep locking the doors."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Noah leaned back into the recliner, pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration. Whenever Mirage says he'll do something, he will follow through. He's ambitious like that. So either; Stay with the no but have Mirage be a brat for who knows how long, or, just get it over with.

"Sooo..Is that a yes?"

He was quiet for a bit, before letting out a sigh,"Fine, fine! Yes, it's a yes."

"Hell yeah, baby! Oh I already have so many places to meet up for dates-"

"DUDE."

------

So that concludes my first post! I like how this (somewhat) turned out, but it's a first. I've made some edits to this and the second part will be out soon, so I'm sorry for keeping you guys waiting!

Part 2 here!

[xxladyballadxx]

An Alien Robot In Love With A Human Girl  (Pt 2)

TF ROTB Mirage x Reader

Mirage couldn’t get his head straight while on patrol because he was thinking about (Y/n), the girl he met a week ago. Arcee, one of his comrades, scowled at him for spacing out on patrol. Even Optimus had a little go at Mirage too. 

The upbeat Autobot wondered perpetually if he would ever see (Y/n) again.  

~~~~~

(Y/n) hadn’t been very focused on her studies for Uni and that’s because someone she met not long ago was on her mind. An Autobot named Mirage. The girl appears to be fond of that funny robot, she finds him quite hilarious and optimistic. The day she got saved by one of the Autobots, (Y/n) got to know him more while Mirage was driving her home.  (Y/n) drew a mini image of him on her notebook and her heart went pumping up in beats when she did that. A red faded colour glowing on her cheeks, blushing hysterically as she thinks about him more. 

The sweet warm-hearted girl held up a mini sketch of Mirage towards the sunlight that was radiantly beaming through the glass window by her studying desk, wondering if she would ever bump into Mirage once again. 

~~~~~

Mirage got ambushed by one of the Decepticons while getting easily distracted by a girl he couldn’t stop thinking about. (Y/n) has been crawling through his mind 24/7. The citizens were roaming down the road screaming in terror when a deception appeared. However, Mirage managed to take down the enemy and blasted their brains out. 

Suddenly…

“Mirage?” The Autobot recognised the voice of a girl whom he never thought was nearby. He turned his head and looked down at the girl standing by the broken streetlights, “(Y/n)?” Mirage walked closer to her, bending down to her level so he could face her properly. 

(Y/n) shone a smile across her soft lips, tucking in her (h/c) hair behind her ear, “Hello Mirage.” she had never thought she would randomly run into him. “Glad that I’ve bumped into you today.” Mirage’s eyes widened after hearing what he just said out of the blue, he held his hand and face-slapped himself, thinking that it was the most ridiculous first thing to say. (Y/n) chuckled at her awkwardness, “I was actually going to say the same thing. I watched you take down that Decepticon while I was hiding behind the wall nearby. That was impressive.” 

Obviously she wasn’t stalking him or anything, (Y/n) just happened to be nearby and somehow spotted Mirage beating the hell out of a Decepticon. Mirage never thought someone beautiful like her was watching the whole fight between the Autobot and Decepticon. 

“You could have gotten hurt, (Y/n)! You shouldn’t be too close!” Mirage spoke in a worrying manner. 

“I wasn’t that close to the scene, I was watching from a safe distance so I’m fine! Don’t worry!” (Y/n) reassured him, smiling so calmly. 

An utter silence floated in between them, the two gazed upon each other with a smile glimmering on her faces. (Y/n) looked away shyly, Mirage noticed her face was colouring fadingly with a light of red. He found that quite adorable. 

“Are you free at the moment?” Mirage asked in a wonder. 

“Yeah I am.” (Y/n) answered very quickly which shocked Mirage. 

“Awesome! Great! Wanna go to the drive-in theater or..?” He suggested, couldn’t think of any places to go and chill. “I would love to, Mirage…” She paused and took a glimpse around the chaotic mess when Mirage brawled against the Decepticon, “Aren't you going to clean up the mess?” she giggled with her hand to her lips. 

Mirage hadn’t forgotten the damage he caused on the street, “I will let the humans handle that, haha…” he transformed into the Porsche 964 car and actively opened the car door for her, “You coming in?” 

(Y/n) clutched her study books to her chest and smiled shyly, heading inside the Porsche. Mirage carefully closed the car door front and drove off to the drive-in theater. 

An Autobot and the little lady began to spend more time together every week, getting to know each other one and another. Mirage loves her laughs, her smile, her everything. His heart gets very high with such warm fuzzy feelings. It’s the same with (Y/n). 

The girl loves everything about him. His goofiness, his silliness, his jokes, everything. A human girl and an Autobot fell for each other and eventually they officially became a couple. 

(Y/n) talks about her goofball Mirage to her friends, some find it hard to believe that one of the Autobots was actually her boyfriend. She would think about Mirage everyday nonstop. 

On the other side, Mirage never shuts his mouth about (Y/N) to his comrades. Bumblebee grew exhausted hearing his friend talking about (Y/n). Although he does seem interested to meet the girl one day. Arcee appeared to be a little annoyed by Mirage rambling on about his human girlfriend. She, too, was interested to meet (Y/n). Other Autobots had a similar reaction. Optimus was visibly happy for him having someone special in his life, human or not. As long as Mirage treats (Y/n) right of course. 

It appeared that the human girl (Y/n) and the Autobot Mirage grew very fond of each other…

Mirage found his sparkmate whom he wants to spend the rest of his life with and (Y/n) found hers whom she truly adores very much. 

(A/N) - THE END! The last part of this fanfiction is finally completed! I hope you all enjoyed it!

UNTIL NEXT TIME..^^

[rain-in-the-clouds]

Am I hypnotized? Absolutely. (Close ups at th bottom cus tumblr doesn't like high quality images)

But yo this turned out so good, and I know I might be a lil biased cus I love him, but this is makin me think about opening up coms, but that for a different post. Thanks yall for all the fun. I wonder what I'll do next. I was considering bangin out some y/n art, both just human and Cybertronion (?idk spellings hard) but yeah let me know what yall think. Love ya!

Oh Primus he's pretty.

[doqt33th]

SINGULARITY

MIRAGE/READER

SUMMARY: You and Mirage have been pining for each other for a while now. A nasty summer storm drives you straight into his arms. Shenanigans ensue.

WORD COUNT: 18k. Sorry I’m insane

WARNINGS: 18+ and I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH!! Explicit PWP, fingering + oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, mild spit kink. Reader is fem and uses she/her pronouns but is written fairly androgynous. No descriptors of appearance beyond the basics and no (y/n) used.

Familiar streets flashed by at increasing speeds, traffic and pedestrians flickering by and blurring together into a smorgasbord of color, all gilded by the setting sun. Unconsciously, you dug your fingers into the seams of the leather seat beneath you, worrying the stitches. Out of the corner of your eye, the radio blazed to life with color and that oh-so-familiar symbol.

“Hey, hey, easy on the merchandise, hot stuff,” Mirage crackled out of the speakers lightheartedly, and you immediately yanked your hands into yourself like they’d been burned. In your worrying, you’d seemingly forgotten about what — or rather, who — exactly was your ride.

“Oh— my bad, I wasn’t thinking,” you said, sinking your weight back and down, instead picking at your nails to give your hands something to do. God, you were so nervous, and for what? Mirage knew all these people— these bots, and knew them well. They were all friends! Or amiable towards each other, at the very least. And they were the good guys. Saved the world and all that.

So why were you so anxious?

“You’re good, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He slowed to a stop at a red light. Your leg started to bounce. “Sooo… you wanna tell me what’s on your mind? Save me a trip to Noah’s repair shop? I’d hate for you to start taking your emotions out on me, y’know.”

You scoffed, eyes sliding to the radio. The grin that pulled at the corners of your mouth was one you were helpless to stop. He just had that effect on you, where around him you became a slave to your laughter and, additionally, also became one half of a terrible joke machine that Mirage happily completed.

Leather creaked as you nudged the inside of the door with your boot to chastise him. “You love when I take my emotions out on you, dick. Don’t lie.”

“Only the good ones,” he shot back, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “You nervous about meeting the others?”

His probe was successful; you fought the urge to shrink at your feelings being read so accurately and so immediately. “I— yeah. I am, and I don’t even know why. I’m sure they’re all great, I’m just working myself up over nothing.”

Red faded to green. Carried on the tide of forward-moving traffic, Mirage rolled ahead, eventually slipping over to make a turn. You watched him twist his mirrors to check his blind spot.

“Ah, c’mon. Nobody could blame you, you’re meeting a bunch of aliens for the first time. Pretty trippy for anyone. ‘specially if those aliens are, like, double your size. And robots.” A short chuckle topped off his words.

“Right. I just don’t wanna fuck it up or embarrass myself, you know how it is. I don’t wanna embarrass you, either.”

“Oh, Primus, trust me. You’re not gonna embarrass me. I don’t even think that’s possible. Prime’s seen me in a lot worse shape than bringing you in to meet him.” The world continued to roll by. Brick buildings blotted out the sunshine in intermittent flashes. “You got good marks from your favorite bot, you’ll be fine.” The dismissive tone of his voice was working, in a weird way, to assuage your fears.

“Excuse me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest pointedly. “My favorite bot?”

“What, am I not?” A downright theatrical gasp hissed out of the speaker. “Have you been cheating on me?”

Cheeks hot with a flush at even the joking insinuation of being together, you glanced away from the impassive Autobot symbol on the radio and out the window. Still, the laugh barked out of you was sudden and sharp, and quickly dissolved into giggles. “Yes. Mirage. I’m sorry. There’s another ten foot tall alien robot in Brooklyn that’s been vying for my attention. We’re done.”

“I should throw you out on the street right now,” Mirage fussed playfully, his evident pout tinging his voice. “For breakin’ my spark. Also I’m taller than that.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m fragile.”

“I dunno. Noah gets his ass kicked around pretty good and he’s still kickin’ it.”

“I am not Noah,” came your tongue-in-cheek rebuttal. “And Noah just refuses to give up even when it’s good for him.”

“Thought qualities like determination were supposed to be big things with you guys.”

“In moderation.”

Mirage barked a laugh. “Ha! Should tell that to Prime. He’ll blow a gasket.” You opened your mouth to reply, only to be cut off. “No, seriously, tell it to Prime, we’re here.”

The easy confidence that your playful back-and-forth had teased out instantly chilled into a dense mass in your stomach; Mirage was rolling slowly up to a nondescript warehouse buried deep within the old industrial part of Brooklyn, and the way the worn brick loomed over you even in the car made your heart rate pick up.

Now or never.

Familiar alien whirs and clicks of shifting and setting metal filled your ears as Mirage rose into his bipedal mode, the driver’s seat gently ejecting you onto your own two legs on the pavement. Following the motion, you took a few steps forward, but still balked a little at the half open door. Inside, you heard voices of varying timbre, and you fought the urge to turn tail.

Now. Or. Never. Gritted teeth accompanied the repetition of your thought.

The displacement of air behind you — and the soft, constant mechanical noises emanating from his body — signaled Mirage’s presence before his voice.

He said your name with surprising care, using a tone that only came out when he was really being sincere. You couldn’t help the way your face warmed at it as you turned, craning your neck up to meet his gaze. “Hey, you, uh, you want me to go in ahead of ya? Normally I’d be like ‘ladies first’ and all that, but you said you weren’t feeling too jazzed about going in—“

“Yeah, actually, if you could, that would be… great. That would be great.”

“Gotcha. Let you psych yourself up a little more before you go in, I see how it is. Let me do the talking,” he affirmed with an easy grin and a nod, bouncing on the balls of his pedes a few times before striding forward. His long legs folded easily under him as he ducked under the lowered garage door, and you traipsed after, smoothing your thumb over your knuckles repeatedly.

The warehouse yawned beyond you, orange shafts of light cutting gashes into otherwise brownish darkness. Old graffiti sprayed across the walls told you that Ramona had been there once, then Nick, then Darnell, and a million others. And you were there now, feeling impossibly small, yes, but a little more resilient with the fading sunlight at your back and Mirage, like always, at your side.

He’d become a permanent fixture in your life from the day you’d met him — when you’d strong-armed Noah into giving up his secret about his Porsche, and the mysterious car had ended up being a twelve-foot-tall robot with a literal motormouth that made a playful pass at you within the first hour of your first conversation. You’d been flustered out of your mind, but had just kept coming back out of unfettered curiosity and outright fascination. Aliens were real, and Noah was friends with one, and it— he could turn into a Porsche.

Mind-shattering observations on the surface, yes. Mirage tended to deflate the grandeur, though, because he never acted like aliens did in the movies or in books. There was no ‘We come in peace!’ bullshit. He was so easy. Everything with him was so easy. He was loudmouthed and extroverted and genuinely hilarious; you spent hours in Noah’s garage trading terrible jokes — mostly bad sexual innuendos — or buckled to Mirage’s driver’s seat as he flew down Central Avenue on the wrong side of the limit and blasted Haddaway so loud it nearly busted your eardrums.

Weird to say an alien robot was your friend, but he was. He gave you rides to work, to your lectures, to your labs, wherever; in fact, he got petulant when you dared to take the bus one day to give him a break, and made it a point to pry your routine out of you so that he could take you wherever you wanted, no fares needed. 

So infuriating. You loved it.

You loved… maybe more than just the back-and-forth. Maybe more than the bad jokes. Maybe more than the late-night drives. You were starting to think— starting to realize you loved big blue optics, and the rumble of a 260 horsepower engine when you made just the right innuendo, and broad, incredibly intricate servos that dwarfed yours in size but were so, so careful…

Man. You tried not to think about it too much. It as a concept made you laugh with its own absurdity. Poor human chick fell in love with the giant alien robot that made her laugh. It wasn’t… debilitating. You still functioned like a normal adult. Mostly. Except for that one night like two weeks ago where you’d been arguing with him about some stupid shit and he’d scooped you up, right off the ground, in both servos and held you there, digits interlaced against your back and thumbs on your front.

It wasn’t the first time he’d ever held you like that — he’d done it a few times — but something was different that night… even if he’d only done it to gain an upper hand in your bickering. The air crackled with latent electricity, made your skin buzz in all the right places, especially when Mirage had gone quiet for once in his life as he stared at you in his grasp. When you’d prompted him with his name, he’d only responded by gently stroking a thumb over the swell of your chest, which had made you gasp air in so sharply that it burned in your throat. The metal left a tingling path on your skin under your shirt in its wake and immediately sent your heart rate skyrocketing past whatever the fuck was a normal BPM.

He’d snapped back to reality at the sudden expansion of your lungs and had attempted to play it all off as a joke. You remembered how you’d still stumbled when your shoes touched the ground, an absolutely insane feeling of genuine heat rocking you as your brain seized the feeling of his touch while it still sparked against your nerve endings and helpfully replayed it over and over and over again. Sure, the rhythm of banter came back after a stuttering beat, but you never really cooled the warmth on your face for the rest of that night — and when Mirage had dropped you off at your apartment, your door was shut and locked for about five minutes before your shaking hand was frantically worked beneath the waistband of your pants.

…Whew. Definitely something a little more than friendly there. Maybe even more than pure love, something a little slicker and deeper that buzzed against your bones and coiled low in your stomach. It made you feel a little weird — just objectively, because of what Mirage was — but damn if it didn’t feel good to indulge.

God, fuck, why were you thinking about that now, of all times? Escapist fantasies be damned, you were going to meet Mirage’s comrades-friends-coworkers and leave a good impression. Not drool over the worn-out memory replaying in your head for the thousandth time this week.

Out of the darkness and around corners, they emerged. The stealth wasn’t on purpose; you didn’t even think they could be stealthy. Oh, one was coming right for you now — tall was the only word your brain could muster. Tall and red and square were added to the list of adjectives as the stately bot approached, servos collected into fists at his sides and shoulders thrown back.

“Priiiime,” Mirage greeted warmly, throwing his arms out at his sides in his favorite pose. “Look, hey, I know what you said about bringing more people around, but I swear— Hey!”

Completely ignoring your friend’s (status pending) greeting, the bot— Prime, holy shit, this is THE Prime, was kneeling down, leaning forward, and he was right in your face. You fought the very biological urge to flinch. Blue optics considered you for a moment before narrowing and flicking to your right from his lowered position.

“Mirage,” Optimus started with a gravelly tone  from behind his faceguard that communicated exasperation above all else. “I explicitly stated that for our safety — and yours — that we were to come in contact with no more humans.”

“Sir, I gotta be honest with you. Kinda hard on a planet that’s got, what, five billion of ‘em? Six?” Mirage glanced at you for backup. You stared back flatly, refusing to say anything that might put you on the business end of a laser cannon.

“You were told to remain incognito so you could recover.” Optimus continued, his gaze returning to you. With a shunk of shifting metal, his faceplate slid away. His faceplates were weathered; the chipped metal around his optics gave the illusion of wrinkles and eyebags. Tired. He seemed tired. “This is not incognito. What is your name?”

You gave it after taking a beat to steady yourself. He repeated it back to you. “How did you come in contact with Mirage?”

“I, uh— Noah, Noah Diaz, he’s my friend. I basically pried it out of him,” you said with a nervous laugh. “So it’s not Mirage’s fault. I’m just nosy.”

At the mention of Noah, Optimus seemed to visibly relax; he moved back slightly, though he remained kneeling, and the narrowed, suspicious squint of his optics rounded out into something much softer.

“…I see. Then I assume you understand the… precarious nature of our existence on your planet.” he said, his tone grave and his optics searching your face.

You nodded, pressing the flesh of the inside of your cheek between your teeth for a moment as you came up with a suitably diplomatic response that still conveyed your friendliness. “I do, yeah. Noah told me most of it. What he could, anyway. I just wanted to make it clear that I’m not— I’m not a threat here. Like I don’t work with the, uh, the government or anything. Whatever you guys need help with, I’m available, even if that just means keeping my mouth shut.”

Christ, you were glad this wasn’t your day job. You’d be such a shit ambassador. I’m available. What the hell did that even mean? Fuck yes, you were available, your brain guffawed, thinking of broad metal thumbs brushing over your chest.

You blinked hard, squeezing your eyelids together until the world came back in a photo negative, to scold yourself.

Although you’d stumbled through your reply, Optimus seemed to approve. He rose with a great creak of metal off of his knee and backed up to give you space, though he still regarded you with those sharp blue optics that felt as though they pinned you to the concrete below. “I see Noah chooses his company well. I should have assumed his sentiments would extend to his companions.” He shut his optics for a moment and dipped his head, as if considering deeply what to say next. “I am not sure how much Mirage — or Noah — divulged to you.”

“A fair amount— well. Any amount that won’t get them in trouble,” you called up, taking in deeper breaths to project your voice up the two stories of height to his head. To your side, Mirage snorted. “I know your name— Optimus, I know that, and I know about the Autobots. A little bit about the— fuck, what were they called—“

“Terrorcons?” Mirage supplied, and you were impressed at how quiet he’d been otherwise.

“Terrorcons, thank you. Other than that, not much. How much should I know?”

“Your knowledge is sufficient. All we fear — and all we risk—“ Optimus added with a pointed look at Mirage, who looked incredibly sheepish. “—at the moment is discovery. So long as you maintain secrecy, no harm shall come to us… or you, for that matter.”

It almost sounded like a threat, but Prime worded it very much like a warning. You decided it was best to heed his word — not that you really had another option.

“Right. Okay. Well— I mean, it was nice to meet you. People — humanity, I guess — aren’t bad. Most of us aren’t, anyway. Just, uh, let me know if there’s something Noah and I can get or do for you.”

Prime’s gaze shifted away from you. In fact, it seemed to shift away from the warehouse in general, looking somewhere far beyond the now-shut garage door. “Your generosity is admirable, but it is not humans primarily that we are concerned with.”

Brows furrowed at his vague answer, you thought it over for a second — and then decided not to push it. He probably knew best when it came to whatever foreboding nebulous space threat loomed over your collective heads; you would leave it up to the experts.

“Oh, well, golden rule and all that,” you still offered in terms of a response. That got his attention. His massive head tilted downwards to look at you once more with curiosity. “If I crash landed on someone else’s planet, I’d want them to be hospitable, y’know? Just trying to make the best of a shitty situation.”

Like he couldn’t handle the terrible punishment of silence anymore, Mirage butted in. “See, Prime? I told you she was cool.”

A short jolt shook the broad, boxy line of his shoulders, and at first you had thought he’d coughed, and then you realized he laughed. It was barely anything, a huff of a chuckle, but you glowed with the indirect affirmation. Just made Optimus Prime laugh. Maybe you weren’t such a terrible diplomat.

He wasn’t looking at you, though, rather at Mirage, and you swore from your low vantage point you could see a barely-there smile on Prime’s faceplates communicating…was that smug amusement? As the tall bot carefully made his way past you, he stopped in front of your companion, and let a heavy servo land on the headlight adorning his shoulder.

“No matter what you may feel, you chose well, Mirage.” Optimus rumbled out, before removing his servo and traipsing off into a darker section of the sprawling warehouse, ducking through a much-too-small cutout and speaking to Arcee about something indistinguishable. However, you couldn’t care less about whatever her and Prime were discussing — what the hell did he mean by Mirage choosing well?

You turned your head towards said bot, mouth open for inquiry and one brow raised. Mirage looked mortified, in every sense of the word; he stood shell-shocked, lips slightly parted and servos up and open as if to defend himself. His head was whipped around to follow Prime’s departure from the room. A whir started, bouncing off the walls — Mirage’s fans came on and off intermittently to keep his ambient internal temperature at safe levels, but the steady hum of this fan let you infer that he was flushing something fierce.

“Mirage? What—“

Interrupting you by breaking, nearly jumping, out of his trance, he clapped his servos together and started talking at a million miles a minute. “Well, damn, look at that, haha, it’s late, ain’t it? You got work in the morning, right? C’mon, hop in, I’ll drive you home—“

“No, Mirage, hold on, what was he talking about—“

“Seriously, c’mon, he was just messing around—“

“You’re telling me Optimus Prime was joking? Is he even capable of that?”

He said your name with a finality that nearly made you flinch. “Look, I can’t really— Just drop it, please?” It wasn’t angry, nor was it even commanding; in fact, his eyes were wide and pleading with you out of embarrassment. You knew the feeling all too well, and in the interest of sparing his feelings, decided to let it go, despite your intense curiosity.

You put your hands up in surrender. “Okay. Dropped.” A few beats of silence passed while Mirage was still tamping down his fluster. “You wanna take me home now or are we waiting for Prime to come embarrass you more?”

“Please, let’s get outta here,” he affirmed, dropping into his alt-mode and popping the driver door for you. As you slid in, you couldn’t help the little mischievous smile that grew on your face as your brain cooked up some other joke to take the edge off.

The garage door opened on its own. Mirage rolled into the noticeably darker alleyway. The burnt umber glow of the sunset-stained sky was only visible overhead; otherwise you were boxed in on the sides by blacked-out buildings.

Stifling silence was broken by a joke. Your joke, actually. “…Can’t believe your dad made fun of you in front of me.”

The noise Mirage made was only comparable to a squawk. But obviously much more masculine, clearly. Still, his tires jerked on the road, betraying his surprise. “Hey— Prime is not my sire— or dad, or whatever you wanna call ‘em. He wishes.”

“I dunno,” you mused, arms crossed over your chest and back sunk deep into the seat. Brooklyn in transition blurred by in messy constellations of lit windows. “He got you pretty good there. Pretty standard dad behavior.”

“Hey, I don’t know what suddenly inspired him to go for comedy, but I do not appreciate it. That’s my thing. He’s stealin’ my thunder!”

“Maybe you’re just rubbing off on him.”

Silence.

The radio crackled. “Ew.”

Accompanied by the loudest eyeroll you could muster, you whacked the dashboard with an open palm, though you couldn’t stop your bubbling laughter. “Oh my god, you are so gross, Mirage! I hate you!”

“Ahh, don’t say that, c’mon! You love it here!”

“You wish.”

The rest of the ride home was spent that way, bickering like normal, and although you couldn’t let go of what Prime had said, nor his knowing look while he said it, you appreciated the return to baseline. When you got home, Mirage parked directly in front of your apartment building, and you lingered on the sidewalk for several minutes after you got out of the car. With the passenger door opened so it looked like you were talking to the ‘driver’ and not completely insane, you leaned on the doorframe and traded jabs with your ride until the humidity of the night air got a little too persistent to ignore. Damn you, Brooklyn. 

“See you tomorrow?” Mirage never said goodnight. He only ever asked when he could see you again, corny bastard.

“Tomorrow. My roommate’ll take me to work, don’t worry about it. I’ll just stick my head in the garage when I get home.”

“I thought we had a thing goin’, man!” His faux petulance returned. “You movin’ on already? You just met my folks!”

Your jaw dropped for a second at the fact he’d turned the damn bit around on you. “I met one folk, and you literally said he wasn’t your dad.”

“Maybe I was warmin’ up to the idea!”

Another lethal eyeroll. Your smile still remained locked on your face. “Whatever. Get the hell out of here, asshole,” you said, playfully shutting the door just a little harder than you needed to and slapping the roof like a horse you were trying to send off into the desert.

Even as you turned to walk into your building, you could hear the way his window shot down, far faster than a normal roll. “Ay! Merchandise!”

You stuck a middle finger over your shoulder, thumb out and all, to give him an idea of what he could do with his merchandise. Tires peeled against pavement as he screeched out of his spot and down the otherwise quiet street, letting you know in return how he felt about that.

Smiling like an idiot as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, you felt… airy. You were always smiling after hanging around Mirage, you couldn’t help it — especially as of late. But still, you were dying to know what Prime was talking about when he was messing with Mirage earlier. You chose well. Chose what? Your brain briefly entertained the thought of Mirage returning what you felt, and it made blood rush to your face.

It couldn’t really… work. You had made peace with your physical differences weeks ago. The both of you got along just fine despite the size difference, and it never impeded your normal interactions. But you doubted Mirage felt the same; no matter how familiar, how friendly you were with him, you could never shake the feeling of being just a little too alien. Your greatest similarities were in personality. The closest resemblance you held physically was the fact you were both humanoid in shape.

That didn’t stop you. No, not at all. It didn’t stop you from dropping into bed after a quick shower with a heavy sigh, your hand inevitably sinking beneath the covers as you thought of digits — Mirage’s digits, so well articulated for their size and so careful — playing with the hem of your underwear instead of your own fingers, pushing the fabric aside just a little roughly to explore your alien anatomy. It took very little time for you to grind yourself to climax; in fact, it was embarrassingly quick, and it left your face hot with some special kind of shame as you slunk out of bed to wash your hands. The entire time, you avoided your reflection in the mirror.

Even with the ancient AC cranked on and chugging away, it took you a long while to fall asleep.

Off in the industrial district of Brooklyn, meanwhile, Mirage was burning rubber as he took ninety-degree turns at sixty miles per hour. His processor was thrumming at max capacity, and his engine felt like it was about to either stall or explode.

Primus, it was all too much. Your teasing always got him some kind of hot and bothered, tight under his interface paneling, but the acidic rush of embarrassment still prickled at his cabling. Prime, come on, man. Mirage was still floored at the fact that Prime of all bots had embarrassed him like that, in front of you, no less!

He had it bad for you, and he knew it, but apparently every other bot in that warehouse knew it too. Ever since he’d met you, you’d stuck in his processor, the way the light glinted off your eyes and your all-teeth smile and the way he could get you to laugh. Sure, his flirts were only playful at first — and he only did them to mess with Noah, who’d harbored an on-and-off crush on you for a while — but the more he did them and the more you returned them, the more he started really… considering it.

It was so shameful. Primus, it was shameful. He’d barely ever interfaced in his life — there was just no time, especially not on Cybertron — and never with organics. After that one night where he’d hefted you up with ease in both servos and completely blanked when confronted with your soft, warm weight in his hold, he’d been on a spiral. It wasn’t just enough to be friendly with you; he was plenty friendly with Noah (though with the amount of stupid passes Mirage made at him, Noah would probably say too friendly) and he wanted something more with you.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d rolled into some long-abandoned warehouse or pitch-black deserted alley and scrabbled at his interface panel to pressurize his spike before he feverishly, frantically humped his fisted servo for relief, mental processors supplying increasingly filthy fantasies of your soft skin against his chassis and your mouth, Primus, your mouth on his own, on his spike, wherever, he didn’t care. Every single time, though, after coming down from his high with steam pouring off his lax frame, he felt just a little more discouraged than the last — because he knew that his fantasies would have to stay that way. Fantasies. Your friendship was enough, had to be, no matter how bad he wanted you, because he’d be damned to the Pit before he scared you off by being stupid and admitting his feelings.

Ugh. Ugh. He took another corner too hard and felt his tires shriek, let the burn travel upward and reverberate in his frame. The chaos in his mental processors quieted as he neared HQ. All he knew was that it was late, and he couldn’t be too loud or Prime would get on his ass for interrupting his stasis.

Can’t believe your dad made fun of you in front of me. Your voice played, unbidden, from some file that popped open in his memory bank. He willed it away with a vengeance as he rolled into the warehouse-turned-headquarters as quietly as he could, transforming as soon as the door was shut and stretching out his back. Clicking echoed off the walls as his spinal struts reset, and the residual burn in his scraped tires tingled.

Mirage turned, and—

Yelped. Bumblebee was standing right there, shoulder against the wall and fiddling with some holographic projection from his forearm. Mirage coughed into his clenched servo to preserve what was left of his dignity.

“‘Sup,” he greeted through gritted denta. “I, uh, didn’t see you there, man. How’s it hangin’?”

Bee gave him a flatly unamused look that communicated ‘No shit, you didn’t see me.’ very well. The projection phased out of existence and left the two of them in the dimmed space in some kind of standoff.

“Well, y’know, beauty stasis and everything, I’m just gonna—“

“I wanna know, what you’re feeling! Tell me what’s your mind!” burbled Bee’s radio in place of his voice. Mirage jerked back for a second, not expecting Information Society at whatever unholy hour of the morning it was.

“Look, man, I don’t really wanna talk about—“

“There are some things you can’t hide!” insisted the same song. Bee gestured for Mirage to talk. Clearly he wanted to know.

This was as good a time as ever to spill, he guessed.

Mirage groaned and clasped both of his servos over his face after explaining the bones of it, his head tilted upwards, optics fruitlessly searching the water-stained warehouse ceiling for a solution to his problem. His… very human, very embarrassing problem.

Not that he thought you were embarrassing— not at all, never. But Prime would have his head over falling for a human. Okay, well, maybe not his head; it was more like Mirage would be in for a lengthy disapproving speech about responsibilities and goals and distractions, and Primus, just thinking about it made the former option of decapitation the preferable one. Even though he seemed to approve of his choice, considering what he’d said earlier, the ‘Bots were still at war, and there wasn’t time for human distractions. Literal human distractions.

It wasn’t like he could help it. You were funny, okay? And smart. And you teased him in just the right way that made his cooling fans sputter, and you were so curious about… everything about him, he thought, remembering your impromptu Cybertronian anatomy lesson with a hot flash in his processor. He couldn’t help but be flattered by your attention.

“Ugh, Bee, I don’t know what to do, man,” he said despairingly after a moment, pacing in circles in front of said squat yellow bot leaned against the nearby concrete wall. “I mean, look at this, she’d be missin’ out if she said no,” he added, arrogance staining his words in an attempt to console himself. It didn’t work; insecurity eviscerated his bravado moments after he said it. “Or… I guess we’d both be, huh.” A short, self-deprecating laugh left him.

Mirage wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come to Bee of all bots for advice, but he was sure as shit not going to Optimus after today, and Arcee would have just told him anyway. Plus, considering that Wheeljack wasn’t even in the country at the moment, his options were slim. Besides, Bee had… experience with this sort of thing. Dealing with humans and all. Just… not in this way. But it was close enough, and Mirage was totally lost; if he thought about it by himself for any longer, his processors were going to fry.

Speaking of, Bee tittered through his gutted voice synthesizer to get Mirage’s attention. Expression drawn into a very human grimace, Mirage turned to face his friend, servos planted firmly on his hips.

“Well, you gotta tell her— wanna know what love is— want you to show me,” Bee’s radio clipped, first from a talk show, then from a nearby station, and Mirage felt energon surge to his face in a hot rush at a very personal song being blared back at him.

He had the words memorized at this point. The shape of them was practically burned into his memory files, considering how much he played it for you. It was reserved for days on both ends of the spectrum, bad and good; Mirage would pick you up in his alt-mode and take you for joyrides across the city, flying over the Brooklyn Bridge at daredevil speeds, all the while blaring music loud enough to make your head pound.

The two of you had discovered a few favorites, but the Foreigner song was at the top of the list, right next to Careless Whisper, of course. The sound of your voice belting at the top of your lungs, softened with that specific human accent, thrumming and reverberating through your chest— you sounded so alive, but so different from what he was accustomed to.

“Dude—” Mirage nearly barked, voice up a full octave before clearing his synthesizer into his fist and repeating himself. “Dude. I can’t just do that. Aliens— we’re aliens. Well. She’s an alien, too, I guess, but we,” he paused to gesture frantically between himself and Bee, “are the aliens here. I don’t really think humans are into the whole giant robot thing.”

“Noah?” Bee played a clip of Mirage’s own voice back at him questioningly.

“Yeah, well, Noah’s a different story.”

With a whir of his actuators, Bee shook his head and looked away for a moment, big blue optics considering the floor. With a soft clunk, he crossed his arms over his chassis.

“Come on, man, you gotta give me something,” Mirage urged, tilting his head to follow the other bot’s motions. “Should I just leave it? I mean, I don’t want it to be weird, I just—“

Bee straightened up off the wall, clearly done thinking. His arms opened out in a shrug and his optics squinted, communicating I don’t know what you want me to say, dude, far better than his vocal synthesizer ever could have.

His radio clipped again, this time a few seconds of a Beatles song and then Noah’s voice. “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah— right?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem,” Mirage groaned, rolling his head back with a pained expression and letting his body follow the motion as he paced another tight circle. His faceplates felt hot at the insinuation. “And if I ask, it’s gonna be weird. And if I make it weird, I’m never gonna—“

He stopped rambling when a four-digit servo thumped on the headlight atop his shoulder, rooting him to the spot. Bee’s optics stared him down, wide and bright blue, and it made Mirage press his lips together firmly as he awaited whatever sage advice he was about to impart.

ABBA filtered through the radio first. “Should walk right up to her and say—“ What came next made Mirage’s brow ridges shoot up so high he thought they were going to fly off his helmet. “—when I get that feeling, I want sexual healin’!”

Mirage’s jaw dropped. Immensely flustered and ten times more frustrated at his friend’s useless advice, he shoved the other bot off. “Are you serious, dude? Primus, I never shoulda asked you. Thanks, I’ll go walk right up to her and ask to interface on the warehouse floor, that’ll go super well.”

Bee nodded quickly and gave him a double thumbs up with a series of approving beeps and chirps, the bottoms of his optics flattening into an amused look. Mirage dragged his servo down his faceplates in mortification, although his cooling fans kicked on a click higher than normal.

Sometimes he wished he’d been left on Cybertron with Soundwave and all his other goons. This was one of those times. As he dropped back into his alt-mode with an embarrassed mumble about ‘going on patrol,’ Bee whooped behind him, and the last thing Mirage heard before peeling out of the warehouse was “There’s nothin’ wrong with me lovin’ you, baby, no, no!”

Whoever gave Bee access to Marvin Gaye needed to be whacked upside the helm.

Knowing Mirage’s luck, it was probably you.

He stayed out for the rest of the night in his alt-mode, wandering the streets and staying away from your apartment, no matter how bad he wanted to go. The pool of people with any useful advice to offer for his predicament was steadily shrinking; after the disaster with Bee, Mirage just needed to stay away from that warehouse and let his processors cool.

Sometime in the morning he returned, though not to the warehouse. He almost immediately crashed into stasis as soon as he rolled into Noah’s garage, his simultaneously pent-up and exhausted processors eager for a chance to refresh themselves and defrag.

Ha, he thought blearily as he sank into stasis. Defrag.

You were waking as he was crashing, though you weren’t happy about it. The eight hour shift that loomed ahead of you on top of the bullshit from last night was a pretty potent combination for a headache of a day, especially when you couldn’t have your morning jam sesh with Mirage on your way to work. Thankfully, though, your roommate was a kind soul, and there was an extra cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter when you stumbled out of your bedroom.

As you sipped it, you wondered just how long you could keep the front up. By some small grace of God, your roommate’s schedule didn’t align very well with yours; you barely saw them in your daily life even before you met Mirage. It wasn’t on purpose, of course. It just happened that way. But on a few occasions, they’d been home when Mirage had dropped you off, and you’d been just calling him a ‘friend with places to be’ to excuse the fact that he never walked you to your door. Being somewhat prescient, they’d nudged you a couple times about this ‘friend’ turning into a boyfriend, but had never pushed it.

You just hoped it stayed that way.

Breakfast was a quick and quiet affair, though you traded a few jokes back and forth that had the both of you giggling into your food. The ride to your job was similar, and your roommate wished you a good shift before driving off leisurely — such a stark difference compared to Mirage’s affinity for peeling off into the street at Mach-fucking-10. Thinking of him made your face burn and your mind race. You tried not to.

Time was an especially cruel mistress today, though. You swore that people were actively winding the clocks back every time you looked up at them, and your shift felt like a thick slog, knee-deep, that you had no choice but to wade through. The worst part about slow shifts was that your mind wandered with nothing else to do, and like a moth to a flame— or rather, like metal to a magnet, your brain circled around to Mirage again and again and again.

Damn that bot. Damn it all. Every time you thought of him, it was some stupid joke he’d cracked or silly offhand comment he’d made or ridiculous flirt he’d lobbed your way — always accompanied by memories of his body, surprisingly lithe considering what he was made of, all legs and a dramatic waist topped with wide shoulders that made your own engine purr.

“Mirage, did you go upstate or something? You’re disgusting,” you’d laughed as you raked your gaze over his pecs, pretending to eye the dirt smeared there and not something else.

“Disgusting?! You gotta be kidding me, I’m not half as bad as the rest of ‘em. You should see Bee, dude!” He’d gestured out the door of the warehouse, where you assumed the other bot was lurking in dirt-covered shame.

“What the hell were you two even doing?”

“Pfft. Practicin’.”

“Practicing body-slamming each other?”

“Yeah, want me to show you?”

“Mirage,” you’d groaned, laughing despite yourself.

“C’mon, I know a few good ways to pin a bot down,” he grinned, winking at you. You fixed him with the most dead stare you could muster before breaking into a half-smile of your own.

“I’ll pass on the whole getting crushed thing, but I could be persuaded to spray you down by hand,” you flirted back, just for fun. 

No, not for fun. Real flirt. It was real, all of it was, and you couldn’t shake the memory of his optics widening, brightening, with eagerness and the way he’d pleaded. Playfully. Playfully?

“Please,” he begged dramatically, clasping his servos together, optics enormous. “I’ll be good! Maybe even stay still!”

You pinched your nose bridge between your fingers and tried to think about something else, because you were starting to press your thighs together a little and you were still at work, damn it. Professionalism was something you were aiming to maintain.

Hot. It was hot. That’s what you were thinking about. You’d glanced at the weather report earlier in the morning, and seeing a row of little sun icons clued you in on an insufferable heatwave that didn’t have any intention of breaking any time soon. Even now you felt sweat collect under your shirt and dot your hairline; all you could do was wipe your face with the back of your hand and keep working.

And working.

And working.

And. Working.

And then, eventually, you watched the clock tick over the last minute of your shift, and you heard angels sing a holy choir as you all but slammed your things down and sprinted to clock out. Well. You didn’t sprint, but you did speed walk, which counted for something.

Such was your haste to leave your workplace and talk to Mirage that you speed-walked headfirst into the lashing rain outside without a second thought. Genuinely caught by surprise, you stumbled back into the safety of the entryway, eyes wide as you watched the storm front swallow the last dregs of the golden evening sky and pour rain on the streets outside. Ink blots bleeding across paper. Rorschach tests. Some other poetic fluff came to mind over the supremely annoying realization that you were going to have to walk to the garage in wet clothes.

At least it was a quick walk.

Patience waning, you nearly considered calling Mirage — or even Noah — to come get you, but at the last second your roommate swooped in, pulling up outside and honking the horn a few times to let you know your knight in shining Prius was here to rescue you.

They cracked a few jokes at your expense when they saw your wet clothes, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Not after the trials and tribulations of Mirage. With a few clicks, the rest of your ride home was filled with Boyz II Men and intermittent conversation as you watched raindrops race each other down the window and considered what the hell you were going to say to Mirage tonight. 

Mostly, you were dying of curiosity to know what Prime had meant to get him so flustered. Thinking about that, though, just made you go down a spiral of what-ifs… especially considering that one of them was ‘What if he feels the same way?’

You could handle rejection. You were an adult who paid taxes. But just this one time, you weren’t sure if you could handle reciprocation. Especially full reciprocation.

Mirage’s friendship was something you felt privileged to have. You were just quite scared to fuck it all up and lose out on all the things that made being his friend worth it — including him. Jaw tightening, you blinked and looked away from the window. No use stewing in it.

At home, your dinner was quick and light — something in a Tupperware that you didn’t look at too hard after microwaving. When your roommate asked about your rush, you came up with some lame excuse about hanging out with Noah, waving your hand dismissively.

Don’t worry about me. I’m going to go break Hynek’s scale of close encounters. Don’t worry about it though.

“In this weather? You’ll be soaked thirty seconds out the door. You were soaked thirty seconds out the door.”

“I’ll bring an umbrella,” you said, barely listening to them over the cacophony of your own thoughts. Mirage. Mirage. Mirage. I’m seeing him tonight. I’m talking to him tonight. I’m not going to pussy out of anything tonight. Now or never. “The place is like two blocks up the street, I’ll live.”

“If you’re so inclined to catch a cold, I’m not gonna stop you. Not making you chicken soup, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you snarked affectionately, and the last thing you heard before exiting your apartment was their familiar laughter. That bolstered you somewhat.

Even if the rain whipping at your face made you reconsider your stupid horny stubbornness.

Only two blocks felt more like two dozen as you tucked your chin to your chest and gripped your hood to keep the wind from snatching it off your head; in your other hand you white-knuckled your umbrella to keep it from tilting the wrong angle and washing water down your back. Thunder rattled your bones more than once and made you think offhandedly of Kris, the poor kid. He hated storms but refused to admit it out of pride; he was probably curled up in a ball under his covers right now trying to block out the worst of the noise. And you thought of Noah alongside him just out of pure association, and you weren’t sure what made your stomach turn, but it did.

God, you hoped Noah wasn’t with Mirage right now. You didn’t want to slam the door open to the garage soaking wet and wrestle Mirage’s true feelings out of him while Noah spectated. Wrestle. Soaking wet.

Fuck my life.

The side door to the garage was jammed like it always was, even after you unlocked it, and you huddled against it to stay under the mediocre cover of the awning as you shoved your shoulder into it to force it open. Old metal hinges wailed as you ground them open, and the blessed dry warmth of the garage — the temperature always heightened with Mirage’s presence — sighed against your freezing skin as you wormed your way inside. 

“Mirage?” you called tentatively as you leaned back against the door to get it to shut and latch. A beat passed before your senses came to you and your hand fumbled behind you to lock it. Not for sordid reasons, honestly. You just didn’t want anyone to even have the chance of walking in on Mirage when he wasn’t folded into a Porsche.

Speaking of, you saw him then, pacing around the garage and seemingly very involved in a conversation with himself. Although the rain outside provided a dull roar of background noise, the whirs and clicks of his actuators and soft whooms of his pedes against the concrete filled your ears with their familiarity. It was Mirage, and you knew Mirage, and it helped dull the edge of abject nervousness in your gut.

He cut a sharp figure under the hanging ceiling lights, making sure to duck and avoid smacking his helm on them. When those bright blue optics registered your existence, you swore they flared with delight; he said your name with such enthusiasm it almost made you excited. For what, exactly, you didn’t know. “Hey, sugar, what’s k— Primus, you, uh, swim on your way here? Or do I just make you that wet? Cuz I appreciate the compliment.” He grinned wolfishly at you. Sparks flew off your rubbed-raw nerves.

The unimpressed stare you gave him was lethal. “That is not how that works,” you said, shaking your umbrella off on the floor and setting it against the wall to drip dry. “All the wetness is— would be in one place, dumbass.”

“Sorry. Wasn’t paying attention during my anatomy lessons. Wanna reteach ‘em to me? I’ll behave, swear on my spark.”

A scoff. “When have you ever behaved in your life?”

“When it counts! C’mon, you know you like it,” he said, gesturing down the length of his body with a flourish of his servo. “I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

“If I answer that question, I’ll hurt your feelings.” Excess rainwater dripped off your jacket as you peeled it off. Mirage’s optics followed the motion intently.

Amber lighting nearly glowed against the sleek metal of his torso. So what if your own eyes had wandered down it at his emphasis? He’d invited it. Expressly. He loved your attention, loved flaunting everything about himself just for a glance his way from you, for anything you’d give him.

It took him a second to register your words. He gasped and clasped a servo over his chassis— his spark, you remembered that from your own anatomy lesson a few weeks ago. “Gonna break my spark talkin’ like that. I hurt your feelings or something, sugar? What’s got you so bent?” With his question, he sank into a deep squat, draping his forearm over his thigh and leaning close to you.

A deep exhale left you. Your shoulders deflated. “It’s not you. Just the weather.” A short huff of a laugh, barely humorous, left you. “I mean, look at me.” You held your arms out and spun in a slow circle, errant droplets flying in every direction. “I look like a drowned rat.”

The lightbulb over his head was nearly visible. “You, uh, want a hand drying off?”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Your hands fell to your sides. Something akin to lightning danced up your spine.

“What?”

“Hold on, hold on, I got an idea,” he said,  holding his hand out at you to tell you to wait, excitement ramping up in his voice. What the hell was he planning? Nothing good, you figured. Or hoped.

Otherwise harsh sounds of metal against metal were softened by the alien chirrs and trills of the mechanical viscera working in his chassis as he settled on the ground in a sitting position. His back was leaned against the wall, carefully adjusted so his darling paint job was away from the rough concrete. To keep his balance, he rested against his tires and scooched his hips away from the wall, kicking his long legs out with a flourish and gesturing at his lap.

Although he was shorter this way, it was still a climb you didn't want to make while you were damp and the general slip hazard was high. “Can you give me a lift so I can see whatever shit you’re planning?”

“I got you, sugar, don’t even worry about it. Just hang on,” came the reply, and your brain blanked just a little at the feeling of his servos on you again, picking you up just like they had done on that night two weeks ago. With zero effort — seriously, you didn’t even hear any mechanical creaking — you were scooped upwards.

Your damp clothes clung to your body, a fact both you and Mirage were painfully aware of; the chill of the soaked fabric contrasted against that fascinating living heat of your skin nearly made the sensors in his servos short-circuit. He’d thought about this, exactly this, so much that it had probably worn a path into his neural processors. So soft. You were so soft.

A shudder ran up his spinal strut and he prayed you didn’t notice.

You were set down with your feet firmly on the flat tops of his thighs, ignoring the slight wobble in your knees. Arms raised a bit for balance, you looked down at the living machinery beneath you. The flight paths of the butterflies in your stomach grew more frantic. Broad servos released you from their hold, but they didn’t leave; no, they skated down, down, down until they settled on the flare of your hips and stayed. They were so heavy.

A breath caught in your throat like a wild animal in a trap. “If I fall, I’m gonna be so pissed off. You know that, right?” Anything to make this more normal. You had no idea how you kept the shake out of your voice.

“Relaaax, hot stuff, I’m on it. I got it, I got it,” he replied, his voice a full octave lower than what you were used to. “‘sides, I’m Mirage, remember? Protecting humans is kinda my thing.”

You scoffed. “Not with the way you drive.”

“Hey, I drive perfectly fine! You’re the one who’s scared of fun.” His servos left your hips to brace themselves on the floor. “Mirage, don’t drive so fast! Mirage, that’s a red light! Mirage, there are cops behind us!” His voice pitched up into something high and nasally to poorly, poorly mimic yours.

It was your turn to be affronted, though your mouth was open in a disbelieving sort of smile. “I don’t even sound like that, you fucker! And sorry for trying to keep us from getting arrested!”

“I dunno, you all sorta sound the same to our audio processors.” He was lying, and blatantly so. He had the distinct tone and pitch of your voice memorized down to the wavelength. “And besides, we wouldn’t get arrested.” His own voice took on a smug, self-satisfied edge, accompanied by the raise of his brow ridges.

“Oh, really? Why’s that? Please, enlighten me,” you snarked, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down. In response, he leaned his head in, closer to you, closer than you expected, and an insufferable smirk crawled across his faceplates.

“Cuz cop cars can’t drive that fast,” he whispered conspiratorially, like it was a clever response.

What should have been a minute movement — just a shift of the head — actually became very noticeable on a twelve-foot-frame; his hips repositioned of their own accord to account for the redistribution of weight, and the change was enough to trip you up. Especially when you had been leaning in already to match his movement.

The world tilted as you started to fall forward; fearing injury or worse by tumbling off your semi-precarious perch, you jammed your hands out in front of you—

And slammed your palms directly on his chassis. It was all very fast after that. Mortified, you stared down at the planes of metal beneath you, feeling heat creep up, up, up your neck and seep into your face. Mirage had cursed above you out of surprise, and you felt the displacement of air as his servo shot up behind your back and hovered. Right there. He was right there, and he always would be.

You raised your head and made eye contact, and you knew it was over. His optics were wide with surprise, and they searched your face for any expression of pain or discontent. They cycled once, seeing none, and then flickered down to your lips.

He was so done for. Something in his expression sagged at your proximity; in his field of view, he saw an alert stating that his internal temperature was rising beyond ideal levels, and he would have laughed if not for you. Finally. Finally. Finally. He was half-expecting this to be a dream, something cooked up by his fried processors that he would wake up from any minute now. 

His servo was still hovering over your back.

“Can I—“

“Yes,” you said immediately in a sharp exhale — before he could even get the question out — and there it all went.

He surged forward like a flood from a dam, closing the distance between the both of you with a hungry rev of his engine. Explaining the logistics of it would sound silly; all you could do was go with the flow, just like every other time you’d ever kissed someone. All you knew was that it was satisfying, supremely so, and completely encompassing. Every sense was filled by him, and you realized with a kick of your heart that you never wanted it any other way.

Though your hand shook, you shoved past the fear and indulged in everything you had wanted for weeks, let yourself sink deep into that pit of want and refused to come up for air. Your fingers skated his curves and edges; you brought your palm up to the sharp angles of his jaw and smoothed it upward until it ran over the curve of his cheek.

He reacted to your touch like it was a live wire. Minute jerks of excitement ran through his frame, and when your hand rested on the side of his face, he tilted his helm into the kiss with barely restrained excitement. He was so careful, it made something inside you purr. That kind of caution was only reserved for something precious. You were precious. He couldn’t ever risk hurting you. Especially not by his own hand.

First impression was that his lips were far softer than you’d ever assumed. Pliable, hot metal pressed greedily against your mouth — more, more, more was a mantra echoed wordlessly between the both of you. The hovering servo came to rest on your back, pushing your front against his chassis as you shifted up on your toes to keep the angle of the kiss correct. Digits splayed against the planes of skin they found there, pressing down to feel your warmth — your heart slammed against your ribs so hard that Mirage could probably feel it against his palm.

With a hot flash, you wondered if the metal of his lips would bear the dent of your teeth from a bite. So you bit. It was more of a playful nip than anything, but the reaction you got was so instantaneous it was like Mirage had been waiting for it. Again, his engine throttled, the powerful rumble surging through you as his servo pinned you to his chassis. Against your mouth, his lips ticked up into a smile.

Air. You needed air. He let you pull away with no resistance, though his head did trail after your mouth for a moment.

You let your forehead sink down and rest against the top of his chassis for a moment; the condensation from your breath fogged the metal. Out of nowhere, manic giggles erupted from you. They shook your body incessantly as you rose and fell in time with Mirage’s heavy vents, your knees feeling weak and mind frazzled. From one kiss. One.

Laughter rocked his frame too, short chuckles of disbelief as his thumb rubbed circles into your back.

“Oh my god,” you murmured into the warm metal beneath you through shocks of giggles.

“Not exactly, but, eh, I’ll take it,” Mirage replied above you, and while he laughed at his own joke, you groaned and whacked him lightly with a palm. It wasn’t like he was unaffected though — far from it, in fact, judging from the steadily heating chassis beneath you and the tinge of static fringing his words.

“Bring me up,” you said hoarsely, twisting an arm behind you to paw at the servo on your back.

Without question, his other servo came up and curled under your thighs, hoisting you up so that his face was easier to reach. With most of your body now resting on his chassis and very much secured in his grip, you grasped his face in both your palms; he leaned so far into your touch with a shaky ex-vent that your noses almost brushed.

“Again?”

“Yeah, again,” he agreed, and this time you pulled him in, fingers hooking in some unseen seam behind his jaw as you crushed your mouth against his. Hunger, latent and now finally triggered, drove you closer, as close as you physically could, until your skin was starting to hurt from the random edges being pressed into it.

Curious above all else, you licked your tongue into the front of his mouth. The searing heat inside surprised you; it teetered on the edge of uncomfortable and reminded you very much of your computer at home when it ran for too long, with that special kind of mechanical stress and burning warmth that only came with overworked processors.

“‘S like that, is it?” he murmured into your mouth with a grin, his engine kicking up a notch and the vibration of his chassis hitting you very nicely right where you needed it most. You made some soft noise, half-gasp, half-groan, and hiked one of your legs up so it was bent at the knee, flattening your hips against his chest and fuck, there it was. The consistent rumble of his motor pressed a steady vibration right into your cunt over the seam of your jeans; a particular grind made you gasp and falter as you rolled your clit against the line of denim and held it there.

“Whoa-ho-ho! Heyyy, hot stuff, something feel good down there?” His voice was bursting at the seams with some rich kind of excitement; you breathed into his neck cabling as your hips jerked a little against his chassis. One servo pawed at your ass, clumsy with its eagerness, gripping and massaging the soft flesh it found there with intent.

Experimentally, his servo pressed down, pushing your pelvis down with it, and the pressure on your clit pulled a groan of satisfaction out of you that had his cooling fans sputter.

“Fuck,” you hissed through gritted teeth, and before he could say something stupid, you leaned your head down and pressed kisses to the delicate cabling of his neck.

A delighted noise rattled out of him, and his helm rolled back against the wall to allow you more access. Impatient, your kisses soon turned to bites, playful nips that tugged at the sensitive wiring and made his body jolt beneath yours like he’d been shocked. To your utter delight, you found that Mirage’s proclivity for talking extended to situations like these, too — noises streamed from his mouth as your curious teeth and hands worked over such a fragile part of his anatomy in ways that only a human could.

“Oh, Primus, babe, babe—“ he stammered out, and you lifted your head for just long enough of a window to allow him to swoop down and kiss you again, feverishly now.

Something thick and wet prodded past your teeth experimentally. For just a second you balked— and then remembered it was his glossa. His tongue. Yeah, you remembered that from your anatomy lesson; he’d stuck it out and pointed at it in a dumb way then, but fuck if it didn’t have your thighs tightening now. The hot biomesh probed your mouth, and it was so big you inadvertently drooled around it — but Mirage didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, you were pretty sure the spit dripping from your mouth around him was getting him even more worked up, judged by the way his digits tightened their grip on your ass.

You had been cold when you’d walked in that garage. Keyword there was had. Now your skin seared with a deep flush and steadily increasing heat; mindlessly, your hips started a slow, staccato rhythm that kept your breathing heavy. The servo on your back slid upwards to the point where it encompassed the back of both your neck and head. He could not get enough of your taste. He wanted it burned into the sensors on his glossa, for all he cared. Spit and lubricant swapped between the both of your mouths — you found that the metallic taste that seeped into your tongue did nothing but turn you on further.

Pulling away again for a deep inhale of air, you propped yourself semi-awkwardly on an elbow to look at him. Open adoration was written across his faceplates, along with blatant want that made his optics cycle frantically.

“I thought you were— fuck, I thought you were supposed to be drying me off,” you said, breaking in the middle of your sentence as his servo carefully started to move you. Just barely — just enough pressure to keep your hips working against him and chasing your pleasure.

“You really wanna?��� He grinned at you, spit shiny on his chin. “I dunno about you, but I think I’m likin’ you being wet more.”

“You’re awful. That was terrible,” you laughed, brain foggy with arousal and general swelling affection for the bot underneath you.

“How many more of those you got left in you before you start admitting the truth that I’m the funniest bot you’ll ever meet?”

“I mean, you don’t exactly have stiff competition.”

“Aaand the best-looking.”

“I dunno… Optimus is kind of—“

“Hey!” he interrupted, bringing you up for another kiss to silence your thought before you could finish it. You happily complied, laughing into the heat of his mouth and then moaning in the same breath as his servo ground you down against his rumbling chassis again.

Hot. You were getting really hot. The damp clothes sticking to your skin were not helping; in fact, they felt as though they were going to start steaming being pressed against your skin like this. Against your wishes, you pulled backwards again, bracing yourself against the warm vents that substituted for his collarbones. They cycled hot, dry air against your fingertips, though it didn’t burn. Not yet, at least.

“Mirage,” you breathed, and that got his attention immediately. “…Are we fucking?”

“Please,” he instantly replied, so eager that it made your cunt throb. His enormous blue optics watched you with such intent that it almost made you want to shrink away from the scrutiny — but you steeled your resolve. You had him, and you had him right where you wanted. Opportunity of a fucking lifetime. You were not about to waste it.

You glanced down for a reprieve from the eye contact. “Fuck,” you swore softly, staring at the metalwork beneath you for a few heartbeats before shaking your head and glancing back upwards at him. “Okay, well— I— Okay. Let me just— do this—“

Hands shaking slightly, you balled your fists in the hem of your work shirt and wrestled it up and off you; the damp fabric lingered and peeled off of you, which made Mirage’s motor throttle powerfully underneath you. Other than that, though, you got no reaction, which made all that heat in your abdomen cool rapidly into a dense ball of abject horror.

Oh, you made a mistake. This was too much, you were too alien, too different—

The servo not supporting you against his chassis slid around from the planes of your back to your front, and you gasped sharply as he did the same fucking thing that drove you insane the first time, however many days ago. His thumb, warm on the palm-side, gently passed over the peak of your chest. His optics narrowed in on the indent in your soft flesh his digit created. Nerve endings in the trail it left behind sparked.

“Oh, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” he said reverently, voice steeped in a combination of awe and victory.

Oh-kay! You sucked a deep breath in, a litany of responses running through your head. The boost to your ego was very much appreciated, and it helped lighten the sinking mass of worry that had formed in the pit of your stomach.

Mirage nearly groaned when you placed your soft palm atop the junction of his digit and the heel of his servo. “Do it again,” you decided on, and that worked damn well.

As his servo groped at your chest, he leaned in, tucking his face under your jaw. To accommodate, you tilted your head up and away—

Only to swear into negative space as he very much returned the favor from earlier and began carefully sucking the world’s biggest hickeys into the skin of your neck. Breaths came harsh and choppy as the expanse of his glossa, hot and spit-slick, laved over the gentle bites he worried into your skin with his denta. 

“Ah, Mirage, Mirage,” you breathed; every mention of his name spilling from your bruised lips made his circuitry heat just a little more. It was so much all at once — his servos were so broad that their expanse covered huge swaths of skin at once, and his mouth on such a sensitive part of your anatomy wasn’t helping either. Your hands clawed for purchase against his helm and the back of his neck. One palm flattened as much as it could on the back of his head, trying with all of your laughable human strength to bring him as close as possible. The other ended up cradling the side of his head, your thumb brushing over the audial disk there. With no small amount of wonder, you watched the plates of his back ruffle at your touch.

Mirage wasn’t trying to be weird, but he could die happy so long as he had the taste of your skin still registering on his glossa. It was more addictive than any high-grade he’d had back home by leagues. That human flavor of salt and skin and some kind of sweetness had his processors thrumming at maximum capacity; you made his mouth flood with lubricant, a fact you could corroborate by the amount that spilled over your bare sternum. The feeling of his own spit sliding down your front between your bruised breasts made the muscles of your abdomen twitch. Fingers shaped like claws now, you pressed weak kisses against the smooth curves of his helm wherever you could reach.

Your jeans were just getting in the way at this point. The minute shocks of pleasure you derived from grinding your clit against the inseam were just that — minute. You needed something more now or you were going to get frustrated, and you’d dealt with enough sexual frustration over the past weeks to be very sick of that feeling.

“Oh, fuck, okay— Mirage,” you said breathlessly, giving him a light tap on the side of his helm to get his attention. Reluctantly, he pulled away from your chest, optics dimmed with pleasure. They cycled once and returned to their full brightness as he cleared the fog of arousal — barely — away from his processors.

“All systems go, sugar?” Static hissed underneath his words.

You tried and failed to stifle a snort of a laugh. “Corny ass,” you mumbled, although you were absolutely close enough for his audial sensors to pick up on it. He made a sound of indignation, but you pushed forward regardless. “I, um, I need to get these off.” Hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your jeans to emphasize your point, you glanced up at his optics again.

Blankness for a second. Then it registered. “Oh, right, right, of course, haha! You, uh, want help? Or you got it?”

“I think I can manage taking my pants off,” you laughed. “Just— let me sit on like— the top of your chest, there we go,” you instructed, and the hand under your ass pushed you up until you were turned around and seated on the lip of the top of his chassis. For a second, you wrestled with the denim — still not fully dried — but you managed to kick both your jeans and your shoes off. They were thrown somewhere in the direction of the door. God, you were so glad you locked it.

Underwear went next. There was a beat of hesitation — for what, you weren’t sure — but like you’d done so often as of late, you just ignored your trepidation and worked the elastic down your legs. A laugh barked out of you when you lifted the fabric up and saw the downright ridiculous wet spot that stained the gusset.

“Jesus Christ, look what you did to me,” you said with a faux accusatory tone, holding your panties out for Mirage to inspect. Two digits delicately took them from you; he held them up to his face, so close that it made you blush from sheer embarrassment.

“Wow. You weren’t kiddin’ ‘bout all the wet being in one spot, huh?” He examined them with no small amount of fascination, much to your mortification.

“Mirage! Put those down, oh my god,” you said, covering your mouth with a choked noise.

“What, I can’t admire my work?”

“No you can not.”

Mirage pouted at your denial, and mumbled something about you being no fun, but he still lifted you off his chassis regardless. Like he was helpless to your draw, he pulled you in for another kiss, though he couldn’t stop his mouth from wandering. Down, down, down, until his nose was nestled in your chest and he spoke into the soft flesh of your stomach. Shaky ex-vents tickled the damp skin there.

“Shit, baby, tastes so good,” he mumbled, and you were impressed by his ability to sound completely sex-drunk without even having done anything yet.

Your hips rolled against nothing; they bumped into his neck cabling and the top of his chassis fruitlessly, and a noise of frustration eked out of you. Mirage seemed to get the memo and pulled you away. Your body was brought down until your ass was sat firmly on his hips — his interface panel nestled right in front of your dripping cunt — and your back was leaned up against the flat support of his thighs; his knees were tucked up and his pedes placed firm and flat on the floor to give you the most stability. Fumbling for a second before you found somewhere to place your own feet, the enormity and absurdity of the situation brought more of those breathless giggles to your mouth that seized your chest and shook your shoulders.

Toootally breaking Hynek’s scale here. So beyond abduction. Way beyond abduction.

A few careful digits slipped around your knee, wormed their way between your legs. “Can I—“ 

Your thighs fell open without a word.

What had made you fall for Mirage the hardest was his motormouth. He never stopped talking; he always had something stupid to add, something to pitch in with, some silly joke to crack. There was a lightness he teased out of you that even you didn’t expect. But now? Now, for once, he was speechless. It made uncharacteristic shyness flare in your gut and heat your face as he studied your very bare, very human form with slightly parted lips and enormous optics.

His body caught up before his mouth did. The servo on your knee slid over it until it gripped your bare thigh; he watched the flesh shift back and forth under his touch with no small amount of fascination.

“Is it— it’s okay?” Your voice sounded very small. It was a special kind of insecurity to be faced with.

“Oh, yeah, it’s okay. It’s cool, you’re just— just different. A lot different.” He jiggled your thigh again playfully.

“Good kind of different though, right?”

“Very good.” To punctuate it, his engine snarled again, seemingly in response to the drool of your cunt on the hot metal of his interface panel. “Primus, you look good, babe. Shit.”

Ego boost! You smiled. Any other partner — any person — and this would be too much, this position too unflattering, your everything too open… With Mirage, though, it just felt like it always did. Easy.

One of your hands rested atop the servo still holding onto the meat of your thigh. The other slid down over your shining chest, passed over your stomach and pubic mound, and brushed past wiry hair, shiny with slick, in order to slide a finger up your folds. A whine ripped its way out of you at direct contact with your clit after mere heavy petting, and you couldn’t stop yourself from drawing tight circles with your fingers and twitching your hips forward to eke out more of that delicious pressure.

The servo on your thigh dug into your skin. Mirage’s vents became far heavier at the open display of your arousal; it has always been him vying for your attention. Now that it was the other way around, he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Transfluid was seeping between the seams of his interface panel, joining your own fluids in a shiny pool that sent sparks up his struts. He made you like this, made you so wet you dripped, made your clit swollen enough to be visible, made your cunt tight with heat and Primus, he needed you on his spike so bad, he thought he might die without it.

He verbalized these thoughts with an unintelligible noise of adoration.

It was enough encouragement for you to slide down from your clit and venture two fingers into yourself. Zero friction. They glided. Christ, when was the last time you were this wet? You’d slept with a handful of people, especially in your first couple years of college, but you’d never been soaked like this. Mirage’s cooling fans choked at the sight of your fingers vanishing into you. His thumb dug into the crease of your thigh and hip as he leaned just a little closer to watch.

Very little time passed before it devolved into your fingers working inside your walls, crooking against that one spot that made your breath hitch and hips jump. Mindlessly, you ground against your palm, catching your clit on the heel of your hand with a sweet moan that nearly shorted out his processors. He had to hear that again. Without thinking, he moved his servo over, resting the digits on your lower stomach and gently, gently nudging the heel of your hand out of the way to replace it with his thumb.

“Ah!” spilled from your lips at the insistent, broad pressure of his thumb, and your hips jerked against it, working your fingers that much deeper. Tears pricked at your eyes from pure sensation. “Mirage, mmm, just— just rub, up and down— or circles, just move, I don’t ca—are,” you floundered, the last word breaking as he did as he was told, carefully sliding his thumb up and down on the bead of your clit and sending twinges of searing pleasure up your spine.

You found quickly that just your fingers weren’t enough. Not when the reminder of his servo lay heavily on your lower stomach, tips of his digits digging into the soft fat there insistently. Although you were loath to part with your hand, you pulled your fingers out with a sigh. Mirage froze, optics flicking to your shiny hand as you spread your fingers, examining the strings of fluid that connected them with a far-off feeling of pride.

“Sugar, you’re killin’ me here,” he groaned, and you saw, for one endearing second, a puff of actual steam rise from the vents near his shoulders as he ex-vented harshly.

“Okay, well, here,” you said, unable to come up with anything clever with the purr of arousal in your cunt fanned by the heat of his interface plate and consistent, maddening rumble of his engine. Your hand, still shiny and wet with your fluids, grasped the top of his servo and gently pushed it downwards, until the tips of his digits rested against your drooling entrance. To fight the whimper that threatened to claw its way out of your throat, you nearly chewed a gash into the inside of your cheek. A gasp of an in-vent jolted his frame in awe.

“You sure? I mean— it’s cool?” His flustered stammering was so damn endearing; supreme affection for him swelled in your chest. 

“I’m sure. Just— just go slow.” His adoration was fueling your bravery. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you; if he did, it would never be intentional, and it would never be something he couldn’t fix.

He paused for a second before remembering the position of your own hand and flipping his servo so it was palm side up; you dragged a large enough breath in to balloon your lungs fully at the sight. Anticipation danced in the burn of your spread thighs. For a few seconds, it was just exploration; his digits slid over your silky folds, collecting the gathered slick with minute trembles. One delicious slide all the way up from entrance to clit had you gasping. Mirage silently thanked Primus above that your whole set-up was similar enough to his valve to know at least some of his way around it. It was just hotter. Wetter. Softer. So much softer.

“‘Raj, just— fuuuck,” you groaned out, your head rolling back as the tip of one digit sank into you, soon followed by the rest as it slid all the way to the base. Stars flickered behind your eyelids. The width matched the two fingers put together you’d just pulled out of yourself, though the texture was so wildly different to anything you’d ever put up there that it made your brain stutter for several moments as your nerve endings processed the feeling. The individual ridges and articulations of his knuckles dragged against the silk of your walls in a way that pulled the breath right out of you; your chest rose and fell rapidly with shallow breaths as your thighs twitched.

You were a mess. Mirage was in love. “Holy shit, baby, I get you this bad?” It was only partly teasing. “l— fuck, a second one good?”

“Good, yes, please.”

All thoughts were wiped clean from the forefront of your brain with the addition of a second digit. Slick noises and the sound of dripping fluids landing on metal and concrete filled your ears over the steadily climbing racket that Mirage’s entire body was making — his cooling fans competed with his engine to make the most noise, over top of the typical whirs and clicks that came with his motion. You couldn’t look, could only feel with your eyes squeezed shut as Mirage pumped both digits in and out, in and out, in and out. One arm was thrown up behind you, hooking loosely around his knee to ground you somewhere. The other was occupied: your hand clutched his wrist like a lifeline, white-knuckling it even as your sweaty palm slipped over the metal cuff. When his thumb returned to your clit, swirling clumsy but eager circles on top of it, that only contributed to the tight, hot coil building in your gut.

Mirage had half a mind to pop his interface panel right then and service himself, because the sight of you, shining with sweat and slick with his spit as you rode his digits, was almost too much to bear. The plush folds of your cunt, tight with arousal, were so soft against the hard planes of metal that comprised his servos; the contrast was short-circuiting him. Under his paneling, his spike was already pressurized. Had been for what felt like hours. Your ass was beginning to slide back and forth just a little due to the transfluid collecting underneath you; the rippling motion of your flesh was driving him insane. As were your walls, Primus, your walls that sucked greedily around his digits as they glided in and out of the tight ring of muscle that made up your entrance.

Your name left his lips in a groan that was an octave too high to be suave. The thought of your cunt clamping down on his spike — so soft, so hot, so wet — like it was doing on his digit had his hips rolling against nothing, working fruitlessly for friction they weren’t getting.

Sweat collected wherever skin touched skin. Condensation fogged wherever skin touched metal. The combination of his digits stretching you, curling in you when he realized what a dramatic reaction it incurred, and his thumb working your clit was getting to be too much. Heartbeat roaring in your ears like the rain outside, you clawed a grip into a seam in his leg and jerked your hips against his servo with breathy noises and gasps that you certainly wouldn’t be proud of later. For now, though, all it did was fuel Mirage’s ego and go straight to his spike.

Almost there. You were almost there, grinding your way towards it, sweat beading on your hot skin—

He pulled out. He pulled his digits out. A keen tore out of you at the loss of feeling, tears springing to your eyes as the hot edge you were so fucking close to fell away, your hips working unconsciously against a servo no longer there. With a gasp of a breath, you wrenched your eyes open, blinking away the collected tears and nearly baring your teeth at the bot beneath you — until you saw what he was doing.

In utter astonishment, you watched as the digits that were just inside you slid into his mouth, peeks of his glossa flashing as it worked them clean.

“Oh fuck,” you said before you could stop yourself. One of your hands slapped over your mouth; you tasted sweat and metal. His optics slid to you, lidded and cycling frantically as he processed your taste. A harsh ex-vent slumped his shoulders — the servo not preoccupied with his mouth clutched your hip like you were something precious.

“Sugar,” he breathed, static grating on the word. “Fuck, c’mere.”

Servos hefted you up, and you clutched onto them out of instinct as he helped you up to his face. Without thinking, you lunged forward to kiss, your tongue seeking out his glossa and tasting yourself with a resurging thrum of arousal. He cut it short, though, ignoring your protests as he cupped your ass in one servo and held you aloft. 

For a second, you stared at him in confusion. “What are you—“ Then it hit you. “Oh.” Your heart rate skyrocketed.

The grin stretching his faceplates was downright devious. “Hang onto something, wouldja? Not that you’re gonna fall. Just want you to enjoy the ride.” A short, heady chuckle rounded out his words.

“You’re insane— oh!” Your lighthearted scold was immediately interrupted by the press of your hips against his face and the slide of his slick glossa over the entirety of your sex. “Oh my fuck!” sobbed out of you as your upper body jackknifed over his helm. One arm curled around it with clawing fingers; the other slammed, palm flat, against the concrete wall.

A groan of satisfaction rumbled into your cunt as the taste of salt and sweat and girl bloomed on his glossa — just like earlier but so much stronger now. The proud line of his nose bumped your clit for a second before his glossa followed, narrowing so he could flick at it experimentally. Lubricant spilling from his mouth mixed with your own slick and ran down his chin; his cooling fans sputtered and spun weakly for a second as he pushed up further against your hips, malleable mesh drawing shapes between your clit and your hole.

Your fingernails scraped against the wall as your hips jerked of their own accord; the edge stolen from you earlier had very much returned, and the feeling of his faceplates sliding over the plush, soft skin of your inner thighs was doing something terrible to you.

“Mirage, ah, ah— I’m— fuck, fuck!” Broken syllables and curses streamed from your lips as a substitute for real words. When he closed his lips around your clit and sucked, it was over. It was so quick, embarrassingly quick. The orgasm that had been building suddenly snapped free and tore through you like a fucking hurricane, leaving spasming muscles and a wonderful endorphin afterglow in its wake. As you sobbed out his name, he slid two digits of his free servo back into you just to give you something to clamp down on, and it made tears spill down your burning cheeks from pure stimulus. Mirage drank you; he wanted nothing more than this, to swallow you down and leave your taste buzzing on his glossa like high-grade. Several thundering heartbeats later found you hunched over his helm as his glossa continued to work lazily against you, forcing twitches out of your thighs from pure overstimulation.

“Okay, okay,” you managed to croak, voice hoarse from weeping moans and boneless from what was probably one of the most insane finishes of your life. You tapped out weakly on the side of his helmet. Reluctantly, he pulled your pussy away from his face and cradled you in both servos, one noticeably damper than the other, in front of him.

His chin was shiny with you, his grin wide and completely self satisfied, and his optics dimmed with pleasure. If you were being honest, he’d never looked better, but in your frazzled state you weren’t sure if you had the capacity to string together enough words to form a compliment.

“I gotta say, compliments to the chef,” he hummed, and you stared at him, words not processing.

“Did you seriously— you just gave me head and that’s what you’re gonna say?”

“Uhh, yeah, babe. And I meant it.”

A genuine laugh shook you. “Oh my god. Ohhh my god. Okay. Well, put me back down there, you corny fuck,” you said with a gesture back at his hips.

“Oooh, keep sayin’ that. I’ll start thinkin’ you mean it.” Your body, errant trembles still running through it, was set carefully down back near its original position. This time, you sat in something closer to a straddle, back straight instead of leaning.

The garage air had gone from temperate and warm to fucking scorching. Outside, the rain droned on, occasional rumbles of thunder sounding so far away that they may as well have not been real. Your entire world had been compressed down to one point — a gravitational singularity in this garage, crushing space and time down until only bricks and concrete stood between you and the oblivion outside. All you knew was living metal and Mirage’s voice, trembling with excitement and fuzzy with static, and that was all you wanted to know. His chassis was making so much noise that you probably, under any other circumstance, would have been concerned; if he blew a gasket fucking you, though, you would wear that with pride.

Pure adoration reflected right back at you from his optics as his servos settled on your hips, his thumbs stroking your slick skin. Any concerns he had about Prime’s reaction to you, or to this — well, maybe not to this specifically, but to the both of you being together — were completely null and void in your presence; the reality of your soft weight in his lap was enough to short out his circuits.

Your hands slid down from the cooling fan in his abdomen spinning at maximum speed towards his soaked interface panel; glancing up at him demurely through your lashes, you spoke.

“You gonna let me return the favor?”

“Huh?” He broke out of his reverie. “Oh, right, um— yeah. Yeah, please.”

A smile crawled over your face at the reminder that despite all the poetic words you could come up with in your head, Mirage was still, and always would be, Mirage. Dazed already, he ran the subroutines to open his interface panel. Machinery shifted with a few clicks, and there was a hiss and an outpour of steam as his spike swung up before you, clearly aching for some kind of touch.

You heard more plates shifting lower, too, and out of curiosity peeked downward; something slick glowed lower down, but the nervous shifting of Mirage’s hips and his closed thighs obscured it from view.

Probably better to just focus on what’s in front of you. Your eyes roamed the length of his array first, your mouth going dry just at the size of it. It was bigger than any toy you owned, anyone you’d slept with, and bigger than his digits, too. Still, though… what were humans if not persevering?

And flexible?

You wrapped a hand around it right below the tip, and a full shudder lanced up Mirage’s frame; it was so thick that there was still space between your fingers and thumb left over. Transfluid, milky in consistency but pearlescent pink in color, spilled from the flared head. Curiosity overtook you, and you swiped a thumb up to catch an errant bead of it as it trailed down the side. The fluid was semi-oily, and smelled… fairly innocuous. Metallic, sure, but that came with the territory.

The array itself was as impressive as it was pretty. Like everything else about Mirage, it was fancy, mostly chrome with blue striping up the sides that led to a fully blue head. The biomesh it was made of — similar to his glossa — gently throbbed with alien pulses as you stared at it. Oh, that was hot. Why was that so hot?

Exploration in full was rewarded with soft noises spilling unbidden from Mirage’s lips, his hips twitching uncontrollably as you carefully slid your hand down from the tip to the base in one fluid motion, feeling the transfluid slick under your fingers. “Mmph, I— ah,” he choked out through gritted denta as you observed him.

Oh. Oh. The realization of the power you held over the big mech made a special kind of arousal thrum through you. Another slow pump had his hips jerk up once and a servo clamp over his mouth.

“This was not included in your anatomy lesson,” you said pointedly, a cheshire grin on your face as you hovered dangerously close to his spike. It throbbed in your grip, working another bead of transfluid out of the tip.

“Oh shit, babe,” he groaned, rolling his helm back against the wall. “Uh— hands— hands-on learning?” he offered weakly, unable to focus on anything other than the soft, damp skin of your palm around his spike.

He made the mistake of looking down as you let spit drool out of your bruised lips and spill over his spike for additional lube, and he snapped his optics shut to avoid from a spontaneous overload right there. The noises he made as you slid your tongue over the head were pitiful.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed, spinal struts clicking as they arched. Primus, was he seriously about to overload in your mouth? Your lips closed around the head and sucked lightly, and he yelped. A servo shot out and carefully grabbed your shoulder, though the tremors running through his digits told you of the restraint he was barely employing. A string of spit and transfluid connected your mouth to his spike as you lifted your head, and he had to force himself to look away for a second with that same servo clutched over his mouth to keep steady. “‘m not gonna last like that, you— can we just—“

“Fuck?”

“Primus, yes.”

“Yeah, we can. I guess.” Despite the leap of excitement in your stomach, you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t even start with that, c’mon,” he said fondly, one servo supporting you as you lifted yourself above his spike and stared down at it with no small amount of trepidation.

It looked a little more manageable from above, but working with something the size of your forearm would cool anyone’s heels, even if there was slick drooling down your inner thighs. Mirage’s servos settled heavy on your hips and you braced yourself on first his knees behind you, then his wrists as you tilted your pelvis to align your entrance as best you could. You sank. The head pressed insistently against your hole. Relax. Relax. Relax.

A deep breath filled your lungs, then whooshed out, deflating your shoulders. Unable to help himself, Mirage inched one of his servos over and ran his thumb through your folds, rolling over your clit and jolting your hips enough to slip the head inside. A long sigh of  “Fuuuuck.” was all that managed to come out of your mouth, your toes curling at the stretch and then the pop of the flared head sliding past your entrance.

Mirage’s entire frame trembled. His vents became shallow and sharp, and the tips of his digits clamped onto the soft meat of your hips desperately as the sensors on his spike reckoned with the realization of just how wet and warm humans really were. “Babe, babe, babe, shit,” he stammered out. “That’s— um, fuck, that’s good!” A weak laugh escaped him as his chin sank down to his chassis, cooling fans hiccuping from stress.

“Hold on, just hold on, I can… shit.” Sweat-dampened palms slid off his wrists for a second before you resituated yourself and leaned back a little, letting your upper back rest against his tucked up thighs. Whatever you were doing worked, because you sank further, and you thanked whatever god was listening that you’d already finished once, making your body quite boneless and that much easier to maneuver.

Mirage, on the other hand, was as taut as a fucking bowstring, made helpless to his own pleasure and completely powerless to you. His optics first scrunched shut, unable to look at you for fear of overloading at the sight of you finally on his spike; then they flew open at the realization that he wanted this burned into his visual processors forever.

Your skin shone with sweat and lubricant; rivulets trailed down your body like a visual pointer to your slick sex, nestled within wiry hair and stretching so beautifully around his spike that it tore an honest-to-Primus whimper out of his vocal synthesizer.

“Mirage, I need you to— mmnh, fuck, I need you to just touch— please,” you gasped, his spike punching the air right out of your lungs. Although your words were broken, he seemed to get the memo, and despite his minute tremors, brought his thumb back to your clit and pressed down. Just the surface area alone made you sigh and roll your head back in pleasure, and it loosened you enough to take him right up until the head nestled against your cervix and your ass brushed his hip plating. There was maybe an inch or two left, but you felt immense pride at managing to work most of his spike in — and immense pleasure, too. If he moved his thumb at all, you were done; you were so fucking full you could barely breathe, and you felt the slow, rhythmic pulses of his biomesh throb through you.

Mirage had never been one for restraint. He did things all-in, one-hundred-and-ten percent, all with a flourish to top it off; the feeling of the hot silk of your walls flexing around his spike just sitting there was enough to quite literally kill his cooling fans via a micro-short in an attempt to divert more power towards keeping his hips still. Senseless praises streamed from his lips, voice whining and roughened by static fuzz. “Yes, yes, yes, sugar, Primus, that’s good— feels so good, please, can I move, please,” he fumbled, jaw slack and optics flickering with the power surges cascading throughout his frame.

“Just— let me start,” was your response, tears pricking at your eyes, and although Mirage groaned pitifully underneath you, he listened.

You had a fair amount of experience with riding toys, and you knew what felt good; the lightbulb above your head became apparent. A shift in your position pushed further weight to the back so that the ridges and nodes of his spike pressed insistently toward the front — though, to be fair, it pressed everywhere — and oh, fuck, right there. Now shoved against that sweet spot inside you, the pleasure teetered on the edge of pain, and you dragged yourself up with a vicious grip on the seams of his thighs behind you. Mirage whined and shifted his hips just slightly; it was enough to pull a moan from your lips as you slid upward. Thick, sluggish droplets of slick swirled with transfluid oozed down his spike. He watched — it was all he could do — with an open mouth and rapidly cycling optics.

The flared head caught against your entrance; a spike (ha!) of pleasure lanced through you. “Okay, now, you can— help me, please,” you stammered out, dizzy with pleasure already and feeling a loopy kind of open-mouthed grin situate itself on your face. 

Your words were all he needed. Although he desperately, desperately wanted to snap his hips up and chase the vice-grip of your slick walls, he’d rather take on Megatron alone with his servos tied behind his back than risk hurting you. Especially while interfacing. He did not want to have to explain that to anyone.

Thumb slowly working your clit, his servos gripped your hips just a little too tight and assisted; you could feel the tremors lancing up and down his arms as he helped you establish a rhythm. At a word, the dam would break, but for now, you maintained tenuous control over the mech and over yourself as you rode him with his help.

Well. Rode was a strong word for it; he all but dragged you up and down the length of his spike, earning each of you luxurious groans from the other, but your quivering thigh muscles assisted as best they could. Heat surged through your body at the drag of his nodes against your walls, and you realized with a hot flash that Mirage was going to fucking ruin you for anybody else, and you liked that. Which was good, because he could have stayed buried in your cunt for the rest of his life and offlined happily just like that.

It was good. It was really good. But even the overwhelming stretch wasn’t enough. Just like earlier — it seemed like light years away now — when you’d still had pants on and hadn’t been completely lost to metal-on-skin debauchery, the grind of your clit on the seam of your jeans had been good, but not enough. Your fingers clawed at his wrists. The burn of your thighs from exertion seared through you, mixing with the jolts of pleasure from your clit to create some new, terrible monster that had you twitching with shameless ecstasy.

“Mirage, Mirage,” you croaked, as he slid you down his spike again and pushed it into your lungs, “I’m— fuck, please, faster, please, please.” In any other scenario, your begging would have immensely embarrassed you; now, though, it seemed like the only viable option to get him to fuck you like you needed him to.

“Shit, baby,” he hissed, and you gasped as he kept moving you, legs jerking uselessly. “You— fuck, you sure?”

“Yes, please, just— oh, fuck!” The cry — and the air in your lungs — was knocked right out of you by a single desperate snap of his hips upward, his spike driven straight home. Your entire upper body crumpled forward, kept upright only by a tenuous grip on his wrists, and then he really started fucking you, and you were gone.

His cooling fans surged back to life as he slammed into you, power no longer diverted towards holding the actuators of his hips back. No, now he was fucking jackhammering into you, and you were barely moving as his spike pistoned in and out of you, slick drooling from your cunt. Like he remembered himself, his thumb began to work furiously against your clit, and you rewarded him with a gasp and more than a few uncontrollable moans of his name, which only served to fuel him more.

Not like he was being quiet, either. You were glad that the building was solid brick and the rain continued to pour outside, because the amount of noise coming from his chassis and spilling from his lips was worrying. Praises and broken mentions of your name streamed from him; he tossed his helm back against the wall with his optics squeezed shut to keep from overloading prematurely. It was too much— it was way too fucking much. Your poor overworked cunt was nearly bruised with sensitivity, barely able to keep up with the stretch of his spike as the nodes pulsing along it raked that sweet spot inside of you mercilessly. Neither of you were going to last long; not your fragile human body nor his torqued-up frame could handle much more of this.

Every sharp thrust paired with the frantic, messy circles he pressed into your clit brought you viciously closer and spilled tears from your eyes. All you could really do was hold on as Mirage wrung pleasure from both your body and his. Impossibly, his thumb worked faster, his pace got even more brutal, and you were almost seizing from pleasure as your nerve endings were frayed raw. That peak was building in your gut, that familiar tight coil of heat, for the second time that night, and you knew it was going to completely destroy you, and you wanted it to.

Without warning, Mirage spread his knees apart, slammed his pedes flat on the floor, and thrusted up. His spinal struts arched again to get his spike that much further inside of your yielding body, his overload imminent and warning signs flashing in his optics’ periphery. “Fuck, yes— yes, baby, yes, yes, ah, shit!” His frenzied whine rang in your ears as steam from his vents heated the air around you; the only thing that rang in your ears besides your thunderous heartbeat was the heady slap of skin against metal, everything slick with your combined fluids.

You responded in kind at the new angle with a cry of his name and some noises that resembled words, but the way he sheathed his spike inside you — fuck, was it all the way in? — and ground his thumb against your clit was too much— too much— you couldn’t—

You shattered. Doubling over from pleasure, you sobbed incoherently as your climax slammed into you. Pleasure crackled through your veins like lightning; a fog of pleasure dulled your senses until the only thing you could focus on was his spike pulsing in your cunt and his thumb still grinding against your clit. Tears pricked at your eyes, joining the ones already wetting your cheeks, as jolts of pleasure lanced up your spine. Maybe you moaned his name, maybe you didn’t. You couldn’t tell.

Mirage went soon after you, because the feeling of your walls clamping around his spike as if trying to suck him in impossibly further did him in instantly. His optics snapped open wide before slamming shut and he cried your name as the best overload of his life wracked his frame; the actuators of his hips trembled violently, along with his servos, as transfluid gushed into you and was immediately forced out by the pure lack of room inside your cunt. Engine snarling, cooling fans nearly spinning off their axles, he held your hips as flush to his as possible while the both of you rode out your respective climaxes, twitching around each other violently. Minute jerks of his hips attempted to work more transfluid inside of you. Brain still wiped blank with pleasure, all you could do was make soft noises and let the aftershocks spasm through you.

Consciousness eventually came back to you in gritty waves. Mirage had set your body down, leaned back against his thighs, his spike still seated within you but depressurizing slowly. Transfluid seeped out of your puffy folds, and you lifted a shaking hand to collect some of it and taste it. Metallic. Like you’d expected.

Enormous vents whooshed through his frame as he attempted to cool his chassis; coolant dripped from him, some of it turned to steam by the pure heat of his internal mechanisms. Body shaking and feeling very small and human, you stroked a thumb over his wrist where you held it, feeling both its ambient warmth and a surge of affection. And satisfaction.

You were absolutely going to feel this in the morning, holy shit. Thank God you didn’t have work tomorrow.

Mirage eventually came back down to earth, his optics cracking open and cycling a few times before they flared to their usual brightness. Lids heavy and a dopey grin on his face, he carefully lifted you off his spike — it slid out of you with a slick noise that made you flush — and brought you up to face-level. With one servo, he held you tight against his torso; he planted the other flat on the floor and resituated his hips so he could slump down further against the wall, his entire frame lax.

Self-satisfaction beamed at you from his faceplates. “Oh, that was good, huh?”

You scoffed, too tired to get riled up at his teasing; you knew he was feeling the same as you. “Yeah, pretty good. I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow, to be totally honest.” An exhausted laugh left you.

“Gonna count that as a win.”

“You… do whatever you want.” You waved a limp hand at him dismissively, letting the rise and fall of his chassis with his vents rock you.

“Well, then, I wanna do this,” he purred, and brought you in for a kiss that communicated all his smug affection without any of his stupid jokes. You returned it gratefully, a smile on each of your mouths as you basked in that pleasant post-sex glow.

The rain still droned outside. A boom of thunder rolled through the building; the lights flickered. Both you and Mirage glanced upward. His optics slid back down to you first.

“You thinkin’ about going anywhere in this weather?” he asked, raising a brow ridge.

“I dunno, do I have a ride?”

“Nah,” he replied playfully, kissing you again, and you found that it could storm for the rest of your life, and you wouldn’t really care. So long as you had your favorite — yes, your favorite, not that you could ever admit around him — to keep you company.