#Tf rotb X reader

[xxladyballadxx]

Date Night

TF: ROTB Mirage X (human) reader

☁️ ✨Fluff✨☁️

A very special day has arrived where you go on a lovely date with your awesome goofy alien robot boyfriend Mirage. Planning to watch the gleaming stars of wonders up in the dark sky is going to be such a wonderful time for you and . Once you threw on your (f/c) mini dress and a bit of makeup, you slipped your flats on and stepped outside your home where Mirage awaits you. His blue energetic eyes widened when he held his head down to look at you. “Wow, (Y/n), you look…” Mirage motioned his eyes upwards and downwards, gazing upon you admiringly, “You look beautiful.” 

Your cheeks swirled into a warm heated red colour, “Thank you, Mirage.” 

Mirage smiled as he transformed into a Porsche 911 car, he flipped open the car door wide for you, “Shall we go, my lady?” 

“Let’s go.” you entered inside the car form of Mirage, seating at the front where the wheel is. Mirage closed the front door afterwards and drove off down the road while you settled down to relax, letting your alien robot do the driving as always. 

The two of you finally arrived at the destination. An edge of the cliff, a great spot to watch the stars. As soon as you exited the car, Mirage transformed back to his robotic form. “Amazing view..” you set your (e/c) eyes on the  stratosphere that is filled with stars sparkling out of it. 

Mirage sat onto the rocky ground, carefully not to sit too close towards the edge of the cliff otherwise he would end up falling down. You climbed on top of him to sit yourself down onto his lap. 

“Oh how I love to watch stars at night..” You spoke in a soft manner, your eyes being shone on by the stars of heavens. It begins to get cold as the beautiful night goes on, Mirage cuddles you with his gigantic robotic hands around you, being extra careful not to crush you to death. 

“A beautiful night, isn’t it?” Mirage set his glowing blue eyes on the dark sky, watching the stars shooting in different directions. Those stars somehow reminded him of his home planet Cybertron. He wishes to take you one day but would be too risky and Optimus would never allow it. 

“Yeah it is, our own heaven of dreams.” your voice dropped in a soft, soothing manner. You leaned your head back to Mirage’s chest while holding his big hand with your small adorable hand. 

 “A happy place where we can just be ourselves.” Mirage added, shining a smile of joy across his face. You carefully climbed up to his charming face to peck a kiss to his silver lips. “I love you so much, Mirage.” you warmed his machine heart with your loving words. You couldn’t tell if he was blushing or not. Robots can hardly blush since they’re alien robots from outer space. “I love you too, my little spark.” Mirage replied, stroking your hair softly with his robotic finger. 

You cuddled his face with your arms planted on it, feeling the heat of warmth floating over you and your whole body is no longer feeling shivery. You swept back down to sit on his lap once again after cuddling his adorable face for a bit. 

A goofy robotic alien and a sweet human girl spend the rest of the evening watching the stars together. Talking, flirting, complimenting each other and making out a drawing from the gorgeous midnight sky, connecting each little sparkle to see what they came up with. 

You wish this beautiful moment with Mirage would never end…

(A/n) - Damn, I never knew I would write this and I am shockingly in love with an alien robot. Mirage is such a goofball and I love that guy sm! :'') I've watched the new Tranformers movie on Friday with a good friend of mine and it turned out to be quite good. Some people may disagree with me on this but it is surprisingly much better then the previous Transformers movies. Just saying. Anyway, this may look shite but I hope you all like it.

UNTIL NEXT TIME ^_^

[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.

[starheart-blog]

Transformers rise of the beasts x Y/n.

(both Optimus and primal *I hope that he's name...* has fall in love with reader, who is sweet,cute and beautiful, that love animals,machines and also love games and songs! And they also fall in love with both leaders. 😉)

[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.

[kairukitsuneo]

⚠️Suggestive dialogue text⚠️

Mirage is pretty dramatic and his words can be....misunderstanding…(lol)

(Noah is just helping to get the wrench that was stuck inside Mirage)

[my-writings-and-musings]

Transformers ROTB

Fluffy Mirage x Reader

I have no more thoughts, there is only Mirage. I already posted a fic of him to my 18+ blog, but I love seeing this mech being a cute little nerd as well. Please enjoy this fic where reader wakes up at night for a drink and Mirage doesn't want to stop snuggling.

Fair warning there might be quite a lot of ROTB content incoming!

Unexpected thirst woke you from your deep sleep rather quickly, thrusting your bleary mind into an environment it didn't immediately recognize. Panic had no time to set in before you realized you were in your garage, with a thoroughly demolished couch below you and a very affectionate bot snoozing away at your back. The two of you must have fallen asleep after turning off the TV...

Mirage made a small sound at your back before curling more tightly around you, pulling the arm he had under your middle close to secure your back snugly against his front as he murmured something snarky in his dreams. Smiling at the adorableness, you realized rather swiftly that getting up for a drink without waking the sleeping bot would be a challenge. You weren't being held especially tightly, but the soldier was a light sleeper, and the smushed couch remains beneath you were rather noisy when disturbed. Were you not so thirsty, you'd have just settled back into his arms and gone to sleep.

Deciding to try your luck, you began scootching your way downwards to try and ease out of the mech's grip, moving slowly so as not to brush any part of him along the way. Mirage continued to twitch as he dreamt, snoring lightly as you tenderly pushed his arm away from your middle. Once you got free and began inching away from the warm little nest the two of you had created, it occurred to you that the mech had probably pulled you close after you'd fallen asleep but before doing so himself, as the last thing you remembered was resting your eyes while sitting on his lap.

The affection stirred by that thought compelled you to turn around for a look at him recharging in all his adorableness, and you smiled before continuing your crawl. It would be delightful to return to his arms after facing this cold open air...

A loud creak from the smushed springs and wood beneath your knees made you freeze, heart skipping as you looked back in a rush.

Mirage awoke with a start, optics onlining with a few quick blinks before he focused on you and calmed considerably, alarm fading to sleepy confusion. "Babe?"

"I'm just going to get some water, be back in a second." you explained gently, moving in to plant a quick kiss on his forehelm. To your surprise, the speedster pulled you in without a word, hugging you back against his chassis as if you were a cat. Sputtering in surprise, you allowed yourself to be smushed with only moderate flailing, so accustomed to being handled you no longer felt too off put even when caught off guard.

"Nooooo, don't go..." he whined softly, playfully tightening his grip on you as if he never intended to let go. The sleepy antics were quite in character, and you only rolled your eyes as he nuzzled his helm against yours, mussing up your hair in the process. You accepted the affection for a few moments before trying to pull yourself away once more, throat protesting yet again for a drink.

"I'm only going to the kitchen." you reminded him, the door to the room in question quite literally within sight. In just the time he'd taken for these antics you could have been halfway done with your task, thanks largely to the tiny size of the adjoining house, but logic rarely kept Mirage from doing much of anything. In fairness, you'd have been happy to go back to sleep were you not still so thirsty. The lovable bot was very good at cuddling.

"Hmmm, fine..." he conceded with dramatic disappointment, releasing you before crossing his arms and pouting. As soon as you crawled away he upped the ante, wrapping his arms about himself and shivering pathetically and putting on the most over the top puppy optics you'd ever seen. "Brrrr, so cold... hope I don't freeze out here all alone."

"You'll survive until I get back." you promised with a roll of your eyes. Certain he was pouting at the back of your head the entire way, you quickly crossed the furbished garage and slipped into the dark house, using the ample moonlight to guide you through the dark kitchen. After grabbing a much needed glass of water and finishing it with a few greedy gulps, you hurried back to the garage, eyes slightly more adjusted to the dark by the time you opened the door. You doubted the entire affair took more than two minutes.

"Oh, Y/N, is that you? It's been so long..." Mirage said with mock weakness from the far side. Curled up in a pitiful position he'd obviously posed for maximum effect, the speedster shivered as if he'd been left abandoned for hours, the mock pain in his optics barely covering the mischevious delight in their depths.

"I was gone for five minutes." you reminded him with a yawn, wanting nothing more than to curl up in the flattened couch once more. It was surprisingly comfortable for something multiple bots had reduced to a pile of stuffing, but the mech you shared it with probably had a lot to do with that.

"Nearly enough time for me to freeze to death. Now get back here, I need my little space heater." Mirage said, abandoning his act to beckon you over.

"Letting that go because I'm so tired..." you promised, rubbing your eyes as you crawled back onto the couch remains. The mech eagerly assisted you, helping to bring your back against his front just as you'd been before whilst he snagged a spare blanket to lay over your shoulders. Being pulled in close allowed you to feel the subtle warmth that radiated from his own frame, as well as the tender hum of his spark and the gentle caress of his EM field brightening at your presence. When he looped his arm around your front once more, you happily hugged it close, and his demeanor softened all around you.

"Mmm, much better." he purred, curling about you as the both of you settled in once more. Loosely holding his hand, you snuggled against him and began to drift off once more, smiling as he murmured a final goodnight after thinking you were already asleep. "Sweet dreams, bunkmate."

[rottingparts]

Confessions

[Mirage x Human!AFAB!Reader]

Summary: Mirage wants to take you out, and not with a sniper.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, MINORS DNI!! Human/Alien Robot Relations, mentions of clit, grinding, size difference, bruising, marking up (but not on purpose) (please let me know if i missed something! Sometimes my brain thinks it typed it out or i just miss it in general, it's not on purpose i promise!)

A/N: There is no use of pronouns! Reader is AFAB, but is written GN. This was supposed to be like, multiple characters separately, but this got a little long and i didn't wanna write the other two this long as well, so I'm posting this one by itself. I also kinda wanna do one with potentially a male reader?? Give me your thoughts🔫 -Rot

It started with a ‘I know a place’ and ended with you hopping into Mirage and going to wherever it was he wanted to take you.

The two of you wound up in some secluded area, on a hill, overlooking the sunset below you. Mirage’s door opened and you scooted out. You looked at the scenery before you and gasped. It was astounding, beautiful, and most definitely breathtaking.

“How do you know about this place?”

Mirage waved his hand, “Ah, it’s-” He seemed to not be able to come up with anything, “Noah told me about it.”

“Of course,” You smiled at Mirage, “I should have known you wouldn’t know any cool New York places on your own.”

Mirage feigned being hurt, touching his chest and giving a slight gasp. “I’m trying to spend time with you, and you say that?”

You rolled your eyes playfully and sat down in the grass, looking at the pink and orange sky above you. You lied down and closed your eyes. You sighed and heard movement beside you. You peeked over and saw Mirage sitting beside you. He was watching you, thinking. You didn’t know about what, but you could see he was thinking hard.

“Y’know…” Mirage started, shifting where he sat, “This is probably not a good time,” he rambled on, “stop me if it isn’t,” he put one of his servos up, “but, you’re really beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking about you- I think the team gets mad with how much I talk about you-”

“Mirage-”

“Now, I understand if you don’t think the same thing-”

“Mirage!” You almost shouted. He stopped. “I think- I feel the same.”

“You think you do?” His optic ridges furrowed. He sounded worried.

“No! I know I do.” You smiled at him. “Um, this is embarrassing-”

“Oh trust me,” Mirage shook his head, “It isn’t.”

You paused, “No, it is. I think about you a lot. A lot more than I, uh, probably should.”

Mirage, growing intrigued, gave you a curious look. “Oh? What do you think about? I need every detail.”

Your eyes widened. “No you don’t. All you need to know is I feel the same, and maybe then some.” You were fidgeting, playing with the grass beneath you.

Mirage’s fingers met your face, and he gently, very gently, tilted it towards him. Your eyes met his blue optics and your stomach dropped. A heat pooled between your legs and you tensed. ‘Now is not the time,’ you shouted at yourself. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking, but you gotta go first.” He inched closer to you, “I don’t want my thoughts to be too weird.”

You nodded, “Okay,” your palms hit your thighs and anxiously rub down them. Mirage was still keeping you looking at him, and as soon as you closed your eyes and inhaled, Mirage was quick to ask you to keep your eyes on him. You looked back at him, “For starters, I think about you a lot at night. I think about your voice, your… servos?” You asked, pointing at them, and he nodded, “I think about what they would feel like against my skin.”

Mirage’s ego was being inflated at a speed unknown to man, “Well, you don’t have to wonder any longer.” He smirked. “I’ll share now!” He seemed excited to tell you after you shared your thoughts, “I think about how soft you would be. Your skin, oh especially your lips-”

You, without thinking, interrupted him, “Would you like to figure that out?”

Mirage cocked an optic ridge at you, “Which one?”

“Both,” You whispered, voice barely audible. Mirage was stuck. Did he think he’d get this far? Not really. “You can kiss me…”

Mirage was on you instantly. Your warm hands went to his face and cupped it. His lips pressed to yours and your stomach turned with excitement. You pulled away, faster than Mirage would have liked and he pouted at you.

“No one is gonna come up here?” There was a desire in your eyes that Mirage could not get enough of. As soon as he shook his head, you nodded. “Can I-” You motioned towards his lap. He moved back from you, sitting directly on the grass and patted his thigh. You crawled onto him and started to kiss him once more.

Mirage grabbed at your waist, dragging you up his thigh slightly, causing you to moan. Mirage took this as a chance to happily stick his tongue into your mouth. You gasped, eyes widening and fingers tensing on his face.

Mirage’s tongue explored your mouth and you rocked on his thigh. That elicited another moan from you and you felt Mirage smile. Mirage moved his leg, picking it up and dropping it, causing you to fall with it as you tried to grind against him. You whined and pulled away from Mirage. He gave you an innocent look, acting as if he didn’t just do that.

With brows furrowed, you huffed at him, “Mirage,” You whined out his name.

“Oh~” He smiled, “I can definitely get used to hearing that!”

“Come on! You’re not gonna leave me high and dry are you?” It was your turn to look at him innocently.

Mirage was melting under your stare. He could have sworn his spark stopped. “How do you wanna do this?” He was folding already. “I mean, I think you’re too small for my spike…”

You bit your lip, thinking, “I could-” You couldn’t articulate your words properly, “I want us to both feel good.”

You saying that was all Mirage needed to hear. Before you knew it you were half naked, and Mirage had his spike out. Your shirt was still on, but your bottoms were thrown by Mirage to the side. You had asked him to not destroy them. He proved to be a good listener.

Mirage positioned you against his spike. He leaned back, keeping you steady, and watching you as you started to move. Since you were quite a bit smaller than Mirage, and knew you could not feasibly take his spike, he had decided it would be best for the both of you if you just would grind against it.

You started to move, pushing yourself along the spike. As you reached the head of it, your thighs would tense together and you could feel Mirage twitching under you. You would slide back down his spike, your clit rubbing against it. You let out a loud moan and cried out Mirage’s name.

“Fuck,” You whined as you hand grabbed for Mirage’s forearm, keeping yourself upright. Your legs were going to be sore the next day. But at that moment you did not care. As you pushed yourself up and slid your way back down Mirage’s spike again, you were getting closer and closer to release. “Baby,” You whimpered, “I’m gonna-”

As soon as you said ‘baby’ Mirage was close to losing it. His hips bucked upwards and you were sure the noise he made was going to be heard a mile away. His grip on you tightened and you came hard and fast, all over his spike. You did not stop grinding against him though, not until Mirage came himself.

You watched as Mirage’s optics seemed to fizzle out, he seemed to be short circuiting momentarily. When he whimpered you were sure you could orgasm again just from that alone. Transfluid came from his spike and your grinding began to slow.

“Don’t-” Mirage’s optics were blue again, and staring straight at you, “Don’t stop.”

“Mirage,” Your voice was soft as you were growing tired, “I’m too sensitive.”

Mirage seemed to realize his grip on you was not as soft as it once was and he let go, letting you slide down onto his leg. When you felt him lift your shirt and you heard him let out a little gasp you looked down at your side.  You noticed a bruise forming, one that resembled a not so small hand, and you felt yourself snort.

“This isn’t funny!” Mirage was not laughing, “I hurt you!”

“Mirage,” You reassured him, trying to steady yourself on his thigh, “it’s a bruise, it’s gonna heal. The way you held me was kinda hot, anyway.” Mirage was conflicted. “Let’s just hope the others don’t see it…”

Something clicked, “Wait, if they do see it, they’ll know-” Mirage looked ecstatic.

“Mirage! I am not going to show off this bruise so everyone knows that I was with you.” You shook your head. “But-” You put a finger up, “If someone asks I won’t deny it…”

[i-starcreamed]

MIRAGE X READER

hii rotb has made me fall in love with...a lot more transformers now. This is just a silly idea I had, kinda lame but idc. Being cringe and free now. Anyways, planning to make this a small series maybe? Mirage lovers where are you?? Could eventually make this a mirage x reader x Noah, love them both, really. Or you know, Noah could be a third wheel, you guys decide that

[ human!gn reader summary: You have no idea how you got into this situation. First, you were trying to steal a true beauty of a car with your friend Noah to get some extra cash with Reek working behind the scenes (apparently) And now, you were in the Porche you guys were planning to steal. Mind you, it's currently driving itself.

"Holy shit!" You yelled in terror as the car careened wildly around the curve, sending both you and Noah lurching to the left side of the vehicle. You clung onto the door handle for dear life, your heart pounding in your chest as a combination of fear and adrenaline caused you to burst out into wild laughter. Noah, on the other hand, let out an ear-splitting, high-pitched scream as he death-gripped onto the steering wheel with both hands. "STOP STOP STOP!"

The radio kept picking up a certain frequency, it was static-y but still clear enough to understand it kept reaching out towards something or someone named Mirage.

After crashing several police cars, running red lights, and being tossed around the car, the silver and blue Porche entered a warehouse of some sort and literally tossed you out onto the cement. Noah groaned as he rolled on his side. You on the other hand, didn't manage to fall onto the ground and gripped onto the seat. You thought it was over but noo, all of a sudden the car decides to transform, its component parts moving and shifting into new positions. You stare in awe and fear as the walls around you warp and bend ever so slightly; the seat beneath you shifts away from you before slowly, almost hesitantly dropping you onto the ground. You stare up and after a couple seconds, the car transformed into a fucking robot. Towering several feet in front of you and Noah, you both stare up in fear. You're a bit amazed honestly, you're staring at a giant metal dude stretch and prance around the warehouse, ranting about being cooped up this entire time.

You and Noah shared a look.

"But that was cool, you guys are cool. A bit loud, ehh, but cool." The robot stood in front of you now, his gaze focused on the both of you. You froze, Noah scrambled around to pick up a metal pipe. "Woah woah woah!" The robot held his hands up. You cursed under your breath and scrambled to get behind Noah, trying to look for anything you can use as a weapon as the robot focused on Noah. You found a couple loose bolts and nuts on the ground and scooped them up in your palm.

You approached Noah's side, menacingly brandishing the tiny screws in your hand. The robot quickly put his hands in the air. "What are you gonna do, you gonna hit me?"

You both looked at eachother. Noah shifted, adjusting his stance while still holding up the pipe. "Maybe?" The robot made a noise akin to a scoff and his left arm started transforming into something else, oh god oh fuck. Before you even had time to register it, you threw a bolt at him. It hit his arm and he froze. "Hey- what?"

You were launching bolts at him, your shots greeted with a "hey, hey, hey!" each time they clanked against his frame. You kept getting closer, pushing him back further and further, surprising yourself with your own nerve. That confidence instantly disappeared when he whipped out his arm-gun, the blue light from the barrel seemed to lock onto you and Noah, like two deer in headlights. "Can you- stop throwing those things at me?!"

"woah, woah, woah-" Noah quickly put his hands up and walked up to you, standing in front of you. "Let's all calm down, alright? Alright? We good?" "Noah, what the hell is this about?" You whisper yelled.

"I dont know! Just dont get us killed" he whisper yelled back.

You huffed defiantly, you quickly took the bat from Noah's hands and tightly gripped it. You adopted a battle-ready stance, staring down the giant robot - thing? - truly unyielding. Neither of you backed down until he put the gun down, straightening up. "Okay okay, you're brave. I like that."

Your face dropped, dumbfounded. Noah reached out and firmly snatched the bat from you, his face a mask of barely-contained irritation. "what did I fucking tell you about not trying to get us killed, dude?" He hissed.

What the hell was going on.

[terriblyrenderedenigma]

Mirage has my whole heart bro.

Just saw the movie. Yes I'm in love with him. He's such a chill dude. I loved every moment that he was on screen and I wish I could have more. My head is literally full of him but I do not have the words to express the exact feelings I have for him without spoilers. So I wont say anything but this. Im gonna try to write at least a little about this man since my motivation is back up.

Speaking of writing, when I do write about him I might add in some g1 quirks to him that he didn't have in the movie, but wtvr just be prepared my brain be workin on some funky shit rn. Oh and-

He definitely whimpers

[tinydefector]

Transformers reacting to Nipple piercings

Characters: Mtmte Rodimus, ROFB Mirage, TFP Knockout

Warnings: slight nsfw, oral fixation, nipple piercings, hinted smut, piercing care.

If people enjoy this series I might make some others.

Word count 3K

Request and ask open, read pinned post

_______________

Rodimus

They couldn't sit still. The fabric of their shirt continued to rub against their skin in an unpleasant manner, ignoring it was the only option at that moment. They sat on Rodimus' desk helping him with reports. "How's your report going Rodimus?" They ask while trying to get in a more comfortable position.

Rodimus sighed in frustration as he reviewed the long list of maintenance reports in need of sign-off. "Not great," he replied. "There always seems to be more work to do than cycles in a solar cycle. I don't know how Megatron keeps up with it all. or how Ultra Magnus can write so much" He offers a rueful smile. "Thanks for helping me plough through these. It's much more bearable with help and company."

Taking note of the fidgeting, Rodimus asked gently, "Is your plating bothering you? I wish we had better abrasives to smooth the rough spots. Being cooped up inside the Lost Light so much can't be easy on your systems." His optics shone with compassion for his human friend's discomfort.

"It's called a shirt Rods, humans wear them kinda like how you bots have plating over your body, And no the fabric is just irritating my skin today, keeps catching on my piercings" they mumble the last part to themself.

A curious look came over Rodimus's face. "Piercings? What in the Pits are those?" he asked.

"They are little decorative pieces of metal we have put through our skin. Some we wear in our ears, nose, lips, eyebrows, it's a little bit of a painful process but they are pretty" they explained.

Rodimus nodded thoughtfully at further explanation on human piercings. "I can see the appeal of adornments, even if the application sounds rather narely," he said. Furrowing his optics, Rodimus peered more closely at their frame. "Hmm, if they're meant to be visible decorations, then why can't I see any of you now?" he wondered aloud. "Are they retractable like transformation seams? Or is human flesh somehow capable of covering them up? Your species never ceases to perplex me with your biological quirks and tricks."

They laugh loudly before wincing slightly. "They aren't always on display, but no we can't retract them but we can take them out. Mine are just under the shirt is all. And feel rather tender at the moment"

"So they come out, huh?" Rodimus responded thoughtfully. Curiosity piqued, he asked, "Do you have them on you now under the shirt? Can I see? Do they have lights or are they just metal?."

He tilted his head inquisitively. "Fleshly adornments are such an alien concept to me." Pausing, Rodimus added excitedly.

With a small shake of their head in amusement at Rodimus' curiosity they speak again. "Sure I'll let you have a look." They are quick to discard their shirt sitting there so Rodimus can look. Each nipple has a bar though it with a little ball at each end. Rodimus is overly eager to touch and inspect.

Careful with his touches, Rodimus leaned in slowly for a closer look. "Fascinating," he murmured, optics shining with wonder at the novel modifications. Up close, he was even more intrigued by the symmetrical placements and elegant simplicity of the adornments. Softly, as if handling something incredibly fragile, Rodimus raised a finger and ghosted it above one glistening bar, mesmerised by the contrast of cool metal against warm flesh.

Servo hovering, as always mindful of organic delicacy. Rodimus barely grazed the ball end with his fingertip, amazed by its give underneath hard plating. Cybertronian armour was rigid and unyielding; sensitive inner workings always shielded. He had much to learn about life beyond his kind.

a soft gasp leaves their lips as Rodimus' digit graze against their chest. The piercings themselves were still rather tender, but the soft touch of cold metal against them left goose bumps across skin, they relaxed into the touch. Both their works are forgotten.

Rodimus noted the soft intake of air and sensations rendering their plating sensitive. "My apologies, I didn't mean to make it hurt," he said gently. When they relaxed into his feather-light touch, seemingly soothed rather than aggravated, Rodimus felt his curiosity heightening. The smooth textures and varied temperatures called out to his sensor net to further discern material properties through all means available.

Leaning closer still, Rodimus let his optics dim and his glossa slowly extended, barely brushing one adornment in a tactile sampling. Cool and slick, it traced intricate shapes with an elegance beyond his plated appendages alone.

eyes shoot open wide as they feel the cool touch of Rodimus glossa against the flushed skin, biting back a moan at the pleasant sensation. "Having fun?" They asked in a teasing tone, not stopping the bot from exploring, enjoying the feeling of Rodimus' glossa.

"Frag, sorry, curiosity tends to get the better of me," Rodimus replied lightly, though his field betrayed growing enthusiasm.

He held their gaze, optics half-shuttered, as his glossa traced delicate circles, learning every contour. Something in the way pleased noises were stifled stirred Rodimus's core, spurring his exploration ever onward in a dance of discovery.

Soft ex-vents ghosted warmly over newly sensitised skin, it prickles with more goosebumps as the air brushes the areas he had run his glossa across. eliciting subtle tremors that Rodimus felt to his struts.

They gasp and moan softly as Rodimus softly sucks on the tender skin. "Fuck Rodimus feels good" The young human arches into the touch as Rodimus' other servo slowly teases the other nipple.

Tracing lower, Rodimus' glossa circled delicately, tasting the sweet warmth of their skin through every sensor. His free servo rolled the other nub skillfully, marvelling at how small fluctuations elicited outsized effects.

Ventilation hitched as strange new feelings rose in Rodimus's spark. He focused on their pleasure, marvelling at them. slowly they pull Rodimus back, breathing slightly heavy from the experience. "I think that's enough exploring for one day Roddy, we still have reports to finish"

Rodimus loathes having to release the soft nipple from his intake, it makes Rodimus Rodimus rumbled apologetically as duty calls them back to boring reports. Yet parting from sweet flesh proved unexpectedly difficult after such revelation of how it tasted, It's addictive.

"Just a moment more," he pleaded between languid sucks, unable to relinquish the heady sensations. Never had something like this tempted him so much.

Mirage

Mirage had caught a glimpse of the piercings a few times. Mainly when he had been intimate with his lover, the small metal bars thought their nipples had never escaped his processor, But as they sat together a question lingers on mirages mind. What were they? 

"Raj can you grab me a tarp, gonna need it when I do this oil change on This car" they call out. 

 Mirage processes the request, grabs one of the tarps from the storage area and brings it over to where his friend is working on the vehicle. He sets it down nearby so it's ready when needed.  

"Here is the tarp. So..."  he thinks back to the memory files of their intimate moments together  "I have been curious about those things in your chest. On your nipples specifically. What made you decide to get those? Just something you found aesthetically pleasing? Or is there another reason behind it?" 

"My piercings?, I got them as a dare a while back, hurt like a bitch getting them done but I don't really mind them now, until they get stuck on things then they burn, mainly keep them in because I like them" they explain as they move around getting set up to do the oil filter change. Bucket set up under the car. 

 Mirage listens to the explanation with interest, tilting his head slightly as he processes the words. A playful smirk spreads across his faceplates as his friend mentions the piercings occasionally getting stuck on things.  

"Is that so? Well I can understand the appeal of a dare, though personally I think I'm too clever to ever get myself into such a predicament."  He chuckles cockily, exuding an air of lighthearted smugness.  

"As for liking how they look, I have to agree they do add a certain... aesthetic flair"  His optics briefly glance over their body in a subtle once-over before meeting their gaze again with a grin.  

"Just be sure not to let those piercings of yours get snagged on any wiring or plating during that oil change. Wouldn't want anything... sticking unexpectedly."  He waggles his optical ridges suggestively.  

"Let me know if you need an extra set of hands though. Wouldn't want an... accident to occur down there."  Mirage offers his assistance in a playfully teasing tone, enjoying the back-and-forth banter as usual. 

"Raj! Please, I'm working here! Perv" They call out swatting the bots hand away. They focus in on the car they are under. "Can you pass me the 10mm socket wrench" the call out while setting up their small touch to see.

 Mirage chuckles good-naturedly at getting swatted away.  "Ah, you know you love it when I tease,"  he says lightheartedly.  

Making an exaggerated show of pretending to pout with downturned optical ridges and a small smirk, Mirage turns towards the tool cart. "Alright alright, no more distractions while you work." 

He rummages around briefly before producing the requested 10mm socket wrench. Mirage saunters back over and holds it down for his friend, lover? to take it easily.  

 Settling back against the wall again, Mirage watches them get to work on the vehicle, angling his helm thoughtfully.  "You know, you perform repairs so dexterously." He teases 

They work quickly with undoing the oil cap to drain it. But when they lose grip on the small screw they curse. Oil spilling out quicker than expected. "Son of a bitch!" They hiss. Moving quickly after getting oil spilt over them. It makes mirage chuckle in amusement.

 Mirage can't help but chuckle in mild amusement as he watches the spat of unintentional spillage. "Well well, looks like someone needs to tighten their grip,"  he quips lightheartedly, unable to resist the playful jab.  

They roll out from under the car, oil covering them, they grumble trying to get the shocked shirt off before more of it could get on their skin or in their hair. And there they are on display again, those nipple piercings mirage liked so much, oil and grease lingering on the skin

 Mirage's attention is immediately drawn to the piercings on display as his friend struggles to remove their shirt. His engine emits a subtle purr at the tantalising sight, optics roving appreciatively over the grease-stained form before him. 

"Well well, what have we here?"  he speaks in a low, smug tone, cocky attitude radiating off him in waves.  "It seems our little spill has left quite the...messy situation." 

 His gaze subtly lingers on the piercings, glistening with oil, before trailing back up slowly to meet thier eyes. A grin plays across his faceplates, brimming with self-assured confidence.  

"Need a hand cleaning all that grim off? I'd be happy to...lend a digit or two. And perhaps a glossa too, if you'd like - can't have precious jewellery like that staying filthy now, can we?"  

 He steps closer, fuel pump thrumming in approval at the enticing view. Mirage oozes smug charm, revelling in the alluring scenario before him.  "What do you say...care for some assistance?"

"God you're a nuisance " the huff, but let mirage continue with his antics. Mirage lets out a playful chuckle at his friend's exasperated remark.  

"A nuisance, am I? You wound me so."  He clasps a hand dramatically over his spark, optics swirling with mirthful mischief.  

"But you haven't said no yet..."  Mirage points out, emboldened by the lack of outright refusal.  

Stepping closer still so they're mere inches apart, he levels his friend with a gaze of smouldering intent, laughter fading to a flirtatious smirk.  

"Come now, we both know you enjoy my particular brand of...nuisance. And I do so want to help clean you up properly."  His field pulses with suggestive magnetism as nimble digits reach out to gently brush over their exposed skin in a teasing caress. 

"Unless...you'd really rather I leave you to your grimy predicament?"  Mirage whispers huskily. 

"Get me a towel, Raj, then I'll think about it," they state, standing there with a smile as they wait for him to grab a towel.

"As you wish."  Mirage's engine rumbles with delighted intrigue as he accepts the challenge. 

Whirling on his heelstrut with a flourish, Mirage makes his way towards the storage closet at a leisurely stroll. Rummaging briefly, he selects one of the largest, grease towels.

Returning to his still-grease-laden friend, Mirage holds out the towel with an elegant flourish and a sly smirk. "Well? Have I earned the privilege of assisting further?"  he inquires softly, 

"Say the word, and I'll gladly help..."

"Trying to get in my pants again?" They ask teasingly before leaning back into the bot's touch, letting mirage help clean up the mess. Mirage chuckles low in his throat at the playful accusation, a hint of arousal mixing in with their humour.  

"Guilty as charged."  He flashes a roguish grin, azure optics dancing with mischief and desire.  

"Can you blame me, though?" Holding their teasing gaze, Mirage leans in to press a kiss to their cheek, his cooling ex-vents puffing against plating still warm from work. "How could I resist such beauty, even coated in oil?" 

Knockout

Knockout smirked as he leaned against the medical table, crossing his arms over his chassis. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my favourite lovely little human in distress," he purred, his voice dripping with charm. " I'd ask what trouble you have gotten yourself into, but where's the fun in that? I'd much rather tease you a bit first."

He sauntered closer, his optics lingering "Now, how did this happen, darling? Neglecting proper care for these delicate human chest adornments? It's a shame, I happen to rather enjoy your little jewellery pieces" he chuckled, his tone laced with amusement.

They don't look impressed, looking away when knockout asks how it happened. "Went out on a mission ended up in mud and now they hurt '' they hiss under their breath. "Knockout please I just need some help. I'm not embarrassing myself by going to ask ratchet for help!" They hissed.

Knockout raised an optic ridge, slightly taken aback by the lack of enthusiasm from the human. He couldn't resist a chuckle at their stubbornness. "Oh, darling, you wound me," he replied, feigning a hurt expression. "But fear not, for I am here to help. No need to embarrass yourself."

They continue sitting there uncomfortably while knockout moves around grabbing what he needed. Knockout sets up a dish of salty water with a cloth. His optics flickered with focus as he set up the necessary supplies, preparing to tend to the infected piercings. He approached the human with a suave yet professional air, gesturing for them to remove their shirt so he could properly examine and treat the area.

"Now, now, don't be shy," he said smoothly, his voice laced with a hint of playfulness. "We've got to get a good look at those piercings if we want to fix them up, don't we?"

As the human complied, Knockout dipped the cloth into the dish of salty water, ensuring it was properly soaked. With a gentle touch, he began to clean the infected piercings, his movements precise and careful. "Try to relax," he advised with a soft, soothing tone. "I know it stings a bit, but trust me, you'll feel much better once we've taken care of this."

He continued to work, his optics focused on the task at hand, all the while maintaining a charming demeanour. Knockout couldn't help but let a small smile play on his lips as he worked his medic magic, determined to alleviate the human's discomfort and make them forget their initial reservations about seeking his help.

They sit there quietly avoiding knockouts gaze, as the medic continues cleaning the inflamed piercings. Knockout couldn't help but notice the human's avoidance of his gaze, their quietness speaking volumes. He continued to clean the inflamed piercings with utmost care, his touch gentle and precise. As he worked, he couldn't resist a small sigh, his usual charm momentarily fading.

"Look, I know I can come across a bit... overwhelming," he admitted, his voice softening. "But I want you to know that I genuinely care about your well-being. I may be a Decepticon, but that doesn't mean I can't be a good medic, and primus knows im not letting an infection get you my dear"

With a final, gentle touch, Knockout finished cleaning the piercings and set aside the cloth. He reached for the disinfectant and carefully applied it to the affected area, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Just a little more, and then we'll be done," he assured, his voice filled with sincerity. "You'll be feeling better in no time, I promise."

"Thanks and please don't tell everyone, don't need the whole base knowing about this" they state while motioning to the piercings.

Knockout flashed a charming smile as he applied the cream to alleviate the inflammation around the piercings. "Your secret is safe with me, my dear," he assured, his voice filled with sincerity. "As much as I enjoy a bit of gossip, I understand the importance of privacy, especially when it comes to matters like these."

He leaned in closer, his optics gleaming mischievously. "But remember, secrets have their price," he teased playfully. "Perhaps a dance or a playful conversation in the future can serve as payment for my discretion."

Straightening up, Knockout took a step back, admiring his handiwork. "There you go, all taken care of," he said, his tone gentle. "Just remember to keep an eye on them and follow the aftercare instructions I've given you. If there are any issues or if they don't improve, don't hesitate to come see me."

"I will thank you again, and I might give you that dance once they heal, but don't expect anything" they reply while pulling on their shirt again.

Knockout chuckled, his optics gleaming with amusement. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of expecting anything more than a dance, my dear," he replied with a sly smirk. "But who knows? Sometimes, unexpected connections can be quite delightful."

He watched as they pulled on their shirts, "When those piercings have fully healed, you know where to find me," he said, his voice filled with a mix of charm and sincerity. "I'd be more than happy to share a dance with you, no strings attached."

[xxladyballadxx]

💘An Alien Robot In Love With A Human Girl💘

(Pt 1)

TF ROTB Mirage x reader

(A/n) - there will be a part 2 of this!^^

  Mirage was driving through the quiet road, finding a spot to relax and rest. “Ahh!” He heard a scream from the alleyway, it sounded like a young woman and she must be in trouble. So Mirage transformed to his robotic form and headed to where the scream was coming from. The alleyway. He got there quickly and spotted a gang of men surrounding the poor woman who was struggling to escape from them. “Leave me alone! Don’t touch me!” The woman yelled at them in anger. “Come on, pretty lady, we just wanna” the old man got interrupted when Mirage sped off to save the girl. “HEY, DIDN’T YOU HEAR THE LADY?! YOU GUYS BETTER BACK THE FUCK OFF!” Mirage slipped out his blaster to scare the bastards away. The woman behind him was utterly in shock, the very first time she had seen an alien robot in person. “AN ALIEN! RUN!” The gang ran away in fear, some of them looked back in disbelief after witnessing what they just saw. 

Mirage puts away his blaster and turns around to see the girl was hurt, “Good thing I made my way  here in time, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

The woman curved a smile of relief across her calming face, “I’m alright. You saved me. Thank you.” She thanked him kindly, showing a heart of gratitude. 

This is the part where Mirage felt his machine heart beating strangely. Could this be that he’s falling for the girl? Even though they’re just met?

“You’re welcome…uh…” Mirage felt lost in that moment, he couldn’t help that this girl was too beautiful to look at. Not to mention her kindness and how sweet she is. She didn’t look too afraid when Mirage appeared to rescue her. 

The girl chuckled at his cuteness, “I’m (Y/N), what’s your name?” she asked, Mirage sensed that sweetness coming from (Y/n)’s voice. So soothing and calming, it caused him to fall for her more. 

“Y-you can c-call me Mirage.” He introduced himself with an awkward stutter. “Mirage? Now that’s an awesome name for an awesome robot like you!” Right after (Y/n) complimented him and his name, she noticed a familiar symbol on Mirage’s head and quickly recognised it when she took a glimpse of it. “Oh my gosh! You’re an Autobot!” (Y/n) pointed that out. 

Mirage laughed at her realization, “Of course I am! Isn’t it obvious?” 

“I had never seen an Autobot in real life. Mostly I’ve seen them on the news. Now here you are! One of the Autobots named Mirage is here with me and is talking to me!” (Y/n) bursted, her voice had so much joy and calmness in her tone and Mirage somehow found it very soothing. 

“I…” Mirage scratches the back of his metal head, “I’m glad you’re alright, (Y/n)…say…how about I drive you back home?” he offered, worrying that she won’t be safe walking home after what just happened. 

“That’s so sweet of you! You sure you don’t mind?” (Y/n) wondered, walking out of the alleyway with Mirage. When they reached the road, Mirage slipped forward to transform into a Porsche 911 car which caused (Y/n) to gasp in surprise, “Better safe than sorry. Hop in, (Y/n)!” Mirage urged her to get in, motioning himself to flick open the car door for her. “Okay! I will tell you the directions and where my home is!” And so (Y/n) hopped inside the car form of Mirage. 

Mirage started the engine and drove down the road as (Y/n) began to tell him which direction he needed to go. 

-> pt 2 of An Alien Robot In Love With An Human Girl

[pinkanonwrites]

Thinking about the concept of cloth or soft things in general being considered luxury to cybertronians, and just imagining one using their holoform to enter a bedroom for the first time. There a big soft berth that sinks under their weight, an entire pile of warm insulating plush fabric, and even more small soft pads that they put their heads on! Could you imagine their reaction to a carpeted room? They even put soft things on the ground they walk on! It would be like looking at one of ridiculously luxurious mansions that are so loaded up with fancy things that it almost looks like a parody

This conjured up a little idea in me with ROTB Mirage, enjoy!

"Watch your shoulders on the-!"

CRUNCH

"...Door frame." So much for getting your deposit back. Mirage shot you a crooked grin, brushing some of the sheet-rock dust off of his shoulder pauldron.

"Sorry 'bout that, sweetspark. No big deal, you can patch that up no problem!"

When Noah had told you that Mirage was able to change his size you had only partially believed him. After all, according to his own stories, the Mirage that was barely larger than Noah in Peru had also had several significant pieces blasted off of his gargantuan frame. And yet, here he was. Fully repaired, mass-shifted to a mere seven-and-a-half feet tall. And sure, he still had to stoop to avoid taking out your ceiling fan. But here he was, in your meager apartment.

It was an equally unfamiliar locale for Mirage himself, having only caught peeks of your living quarters from the alleyway outside. The shag carpet was plush under his pedes, ridiculously soft to the touch. And sure, he'd owned a few of his own garments back in the Towers, in pre-war time, but it still paled in comparison to your room with its thick curtains, fluffy carpeting, and the dozen or so plush organic creatures littering your bed.

"Do you wanna listen to something? You can sit on the bed, if you want. You're probably too big for my desk chair." You were already rifling through your tapes, gesturing to the bed with your free hand and currently oblivious to Mirage's wide-optic stare. He took a careful seat on the edge and Primus, the entire mattress sunk and molded around his bulky frame. It was heavenly. He took one of your stuffed animals between his servos and squeezed, marveling at the squish.

"Man, I can't believe y'all live like this!" He laughed, draping himself backwards onto your bed with a warning creak. "It's comfy, that's for sure. But I don't think I could sleep on somethin' like this. It might swallow me up mid-recharge. And what's with all these little soft organics?"

"Says the guy who sleeps on the floor of a garage. I'd have aches in muscles I didn't even know existed." You pressed Talking Heads 'Speaking In Tongues' into the player with a familiar click, the beginning lick of Burning Down The House echoing through the tinny speaker as you flopped down next to Mirage. "And you're strangling Hello Kitty. They're cute, and soft, and that's kind of all there is to it? Kids like to play with them, too."

"Huh! Cute. Seems like your style. The whole hab seems like your style, actually. All soft and shit. " He handed you back your slightly-dented Hello Kitty, letting out a lazy ex-vent as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. "Well what should we do now?~ You got me all the way up into your berth, aren't you gonna do somethin' about it?"

You barked out a laugh, turning your head to see Mirage's playfully smarmy grin aimed down at you. "Was that your ploy? Show off your cool alien shape-shifting just so you could get in my bed?"

"That depends. Is it working?~"

"Maybe.~"

[starheart-blog]

i hope there more of tf rotb aka transformers rise of the beasts and i hope there also more of tf rotb x reader.

[kaycode1999]

Bumblebee is the epitome of “ It is very important that I am both cute and powerful” - Part 1

[scholastic-dragon]

I think this is the third post I promised in the poll lmao, I've been all over the place recently. Yall better get ready though cause I'm planning something big for my birthday in two weeks. 🫢

Also my dumbass did not proofread so if anything is off I am sorry

Wanna Ride?

Mirage x Fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, no protection cause he's a car, using a vibrator, mirage is babygirl and I love him, PRAISE, spelling mistakes,

Slipping on your thin sweatshirt, you giggle to yourself as you grab your keys and head out of your apartment.

Rushing down the stairs, not even bothering with the elevator, you jog out to the back parking lot where you see a gray and blue striped Porsche waiting in your spot.

Hearing the big metal door close behind you, Mirage honks at you, revving his engine and opening the passenger side door for you. You skip happily and slide into the car, the seat warm against your practically bare thighs.

"Hi, baby, I missed you," You laugh, tossing your purse into the backseat. Mirage revs the engine again, his voice coming out of the radio.

"Not as much as I missed you," He pulled your seat belt on and pulled out of the parking lot, taking you deep into the quiet dark that was New York.

"So, what're we doing tonight? Your message was quite vague," You tease, watching the lights flash by, you loved late night drives.

"Well, Prime said I had patrol tonight so obviously I invited you along,"

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, leaning back in the chair and crossing your legs. "Of course, you'd do that, even though last time-"

"What was that?" He interrupts, his driving not slowing down or faltering.

You squint your eyes, looking out the windows, hoping something wasn't about to fall out of the sky towards you. "What was what?"

"Your dress," He states, you bite your lip, hands gripping the edges of your sundress, trying to hide your blush.

"It's...just an outfit," You smooth out the fabric against your thighs, folding your hands in your lap, looking out the window, hoping he wouldn't mention how red your face was.

"hmm," He hums, then cranks up the AC blowing cold air on you, making your skirt flip up, exposing your lower half.

"Mirage!"

He gasped, making your blush crawl down your neck. "You're not wearing underwear!" He laughed, the sound reverberating through the leather seats. "You dirty girl, you wanna get laid,"

"I didn't think you'd be on a mission from Optimus! I thought it was just gonna be a fun drive," You try to fight the blush and heat racing through your body but you can't.

"We can still have a fun ride," He speaks quietly, still driving down the dark streets. "Show me,"

You gawk, stuttering, feeling your hands start to shake. Biting your lip, your hands travel down your thighs, taking the edge of your dress and pulling it up to your waist. You roll your hips forward, readjusting to present yourself to him.

It felt so daring to do this, but with the rising threat to the Autobots, Mirage had his windows tinted. Thankfully, even though you were still on a main road with other cars, no one could see how far down you were slouched in your seat.

"Shit, baby, you shaved for me?" You loved how he always made you laugh, it helped lighten the mood and ease any tension you had, in all situations with him, not just sexual.

"We haven't seen each other in a few weeks, I wanted to surprise you," You mumble.

"Oh, I'm surprised alright," the glove box pops open, showing a small cardboard box and a few loose papers. "Open the box, baby,"

Leaning forward, you pull out the little box, flicking open the lid and feeling yourself get even redder.

Your vibrator sat wrapped in tissues. Taking it out, you slam the glove box shut, making him groan then laugh.

"I was looking everywhere for this!"

"Well, now you have it...why don't you show me how much you missed me?" He revs the engine, making your seat vibrate against your legs.

You smile, spreading your legs and setting the toy against your slit. Rubbing it up and down to coat the silicone tip before pressing it to your clit and turning it on.

You gasped, biting your lip to keep your noises down, gripping the seats with your other hand. Your nails digging into the leather and making Mirage groan softly.

"That's it, baby, just like that," He praised, taking a left down a side road that didn't have nearly as much traffic.

His praise and compliments always made you feel so incredibly sexy. You knew even though you couldn't see his eyes that he was watching you. It was such a strange and surreal feeling: one that was truly addicting.

Feeling yourself grow wetter and more turned on, you slipped the toy down your folds and to your entrance, feeling it pulse beneath the toy.

"Shit, baby," He swore, sounding winded.

"You like the view?" You tease, gaining a bit of confidence.

"I can feel you leaking against the seats," peering down, you see a small puddle forming between your thighs. Fuck that's hot.

"I feel like I should apologize,"

"Don't you dare," He speeds up, turning down another few winding roads, you had no idea where he was going.

You pushed the toy in about an inch inside you, mewling softly, rotating your hips on the seat. "I wish you were touching me," You sigh.

"As you wish," the glove box whirs softly, then from under the door, you see Mirage's arm emerge, his cools finger stracing your knee.

You gasp, laughing softly. "I didn't know you could do that,"

"It's a bit of a twist, but damn is it worth it," He says breathlessly. His fingers are cold and soft, the metal tickling your skin as he drags them up the inside of your legs.

Putting his hand over yours, his palm engulfing your hand and toy easily, he shuts it off and places it in the cup holder.

With his knuckle, he rubs it up and down your folds, making you moan softly, both hands gripping his seats.

"Fuck, you're soaked," He moans, his thumb pressing and rubbing small quick circles on your clit.

Taking his middle finger, he runs in down your folds before pressing it at your weeping entrance. Pushing in at a slow pace to not overwhelm you.

One of his fingers was as thick as two of yours. You moaned loudly, feeling sweat form at your temple and shoulders.

You lean forward, taking off your sweatshirt and pulling the top of your dress down, pulling your sleeves to the side to expose your blue bra.

"You like the color?" You run a hand over the lace, teasing your nipple through the fabric.

"That's my blue," He whispers in a daze.

To get back at you, he starts moving his finger, a strong even pace that has you clawing at the seat and door, trying to not scream out in the open road.

"Fuck, Mirage," You can hear the wet squelch as his finger moves in and out of your core, it's turning you on even more.

"You like this, baby?" You nod, moaning and panting. "You're doing so well, you want another one?"

"Yes,"

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'd like another finger in me," You're too close to cumming to care how desperate you sound.

Pulling his finger out almost all the way, he lines up his ring finger, pushing against your slit and letting your wetness drip down onto his fingers. Then he pushed forward, being slow and careful, but still making sure it felt good.

When you hissed in pain at the second knuckle, his thumb pressed and rubbed your clit. You threw your head back, feeling your stomach tighten, a band pulling in your core.

"Please, Mirage," You moan.

"Please what, baby?" He pulls out onto a dirt road, going along a quiet neighborhood.

"Please let me come," You beg.

"Oh. You're gonna cum?" He teases, moving his fingers and clit in a maddening rhythm. "You gonna cum all over my seats? Squirt and stain the leather?"

Fuck, you loved it when he talked like this. You moaned loudly, feeling the band grow taught, his fingers squelched as he finger-fucked you hard.

He curled his fingers, pressing them against your g-spot and pressing his thumb against your clit, rubbing harshly.

"Mirage!" You scream, feeling the band snap and your vision go black. Sound faded out, nothing mattered except the amazing feeling of cumming around his fingers.

Your back arches before setting against the leather, panting heavily. Opening your eyes, you see that he's stopped.

You're in a garage, you're not where but it looks abandoned, it was dim and dusty.

"You alright, baby?" He removed his fingers, rubbing the back of his hand against the expanse of your thighs.

"Yeah, that was just a big one," You laugh, unbuckling and opening the door. On shaking legs, you roll your shoulders hearing the classic mechanical whirring of Mirage transforming.

As you turn around, he's already coming at you. One hand cups the side of your face, and the other wraps around your waist, pulling you up and pushing you against his chest.

He kisses you hungrily, moaning and groaning into your mouth. Even with metallic lips, they were smooth and warm, not in a way you understood, but appreciated nonetheless.

He lifts your feet off the ground, swallows your gasp, and pushes you against a wide support pillar.

"Do you know who's garage this is?" You pant in between kisses.

"Nope," He smiles against your lips, moving down and nipping at your neck.

He doesn't have normal saliva, but his mouth does produce some spit like substance. It doesn't have a taste but leaves little tingles on your lips and skin.

"Mirage, I need you," You pant, your arms clawing down the smooth metal.

"Shit, hold on," He moans, his arms dropping your your waist, then suddenly he's on his knees and lifting your body up the pillar.

"Mirage!" You gasp, your hands holding onto his large metallic head.

He leans in, running his tongue along your folds, moaning loudly, his hands moving from your waist to under your thighs, keeping you fully supported above him.

You feel the strange layers of metal that make up his tongue, you don't have time to think about it more when you feel it pressing at your entrance.

He puts just the tip in, then licks up to your clit, giving it a little suck, then going back down, over and over again.

"Baby, baby," you pant, your hips rolling against his face. "I'm gonna cum," You whine.

He sucks your clit one last time, not hard enough for you to cum, then stands up, hauling you up and bending you over one of the old cars.

It had a thick layer of dust and looked like it hadn't been driven in decades.

Mirage pulls your dress up, keeping a hand on your lower back to keep you bent. You hear more shifting and whirring before feeling something hot and smooth rub against your thighs.

You moan, arching your back. He chuckles quietly from behind you. "You want this spike, baby?"

Oh, he must be just as desperate as you, he normally uses the "human" version of body parts as you called it. Spike was one that honestly fit.

He pumps himself, then slaps his tip against your folds, making you jump and squirm.

"Mirage, please," he eases himself inside, moaning loud as you. God, he's huge, in all sense of the word.

He pushes in until his cool hips are flush to yours, then leans over your shaking body. One hand gripping your hip and the other just above your head.

"Can....can I move?" He pants, you feel his legs shaking behind you.

"Yes, baby, fuck me,"

He pulls almost all the way out just to slam back in, strong hard snaps of his hips that have you moaning and crying in this random person's garage.

With your face pressed against the dirty car, you reach an arm up toward his hand. Your fingers curling around his, he lifts his hand and engulfs yours, squeezing firmly.

"F...frag," Mirage grits out, his hips moving faster. You'd laugh at the Cybertroian swear if you weren't on the verge of another orgasm.

"I'm gonna cum," You cry, lifting your hips up slightly. His fingers are digging into your hips, you can feel little pin pricks and know they'll be bruised in the morning.

"Yes, yes, please overload with me," He leans down, pressing his face into your neck, hips moving at an erratic fast pace. "Overload....with....me!" He slips his hand from your hip to your clit, rubbing with the same pace as his thrusts.

You buck and moan and cum around him, feeling his hand grip yours tighter, feeling him fill you, his hips bucking into you deeply. He raises up on his tiptoes, curling in further around you, pumping until he was spent.

He sighs, stopping his hips and lowering back onto flat feet. He kisses and nips at your neck.

"You alright, baby?" He rubs his nose on your cheek.

"Yeah," You giggle. "Yeah, I'm alright,"

He straightens up, rubbing your hips and back in soothing circles. "Sorry, I didn't ask before overloading in you,"

"It's alright, baby, it's not like you can get me pregnant," You both laugh softly.

He pulls out and pulls the edge of your dress down, helping you stand on shaking legs. You stand on shaking legs, looking up into his beautiful blue eyes, hands on his chest you lean up into a kiss.

"I love you, baby," You whisper.

"Love you, too," He mumbles against your lips, holding you close to his spark.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Transformers ROTB

Mirage x Reader

(Hurt/Comfort)

It's a billion degrees here so thinking is hard and I've been imagining cold... This fic of Mirage keeper reader warm after a snowy rescue was born. As the last fic proves, I just love writing Mirage cuddles, and can you blame me?

Look at him. Absolute cuddlebug. Has to be.

---

Everything was cold and aching when you came to, but considering you'd expected not to wake up at all, you could tentatively call that a win. Too exhausted and pained to shiver, you cracked your eyes open as sounds finally drifted into focus. A blue figure moved through the darkness with curses of frantic frustration, their inhumanly large frame bent over a pile of damp wood they were having no luck lighting. Recognizing their familiar shade of blue in the brief flashes of light from their attempted fire, you perked up despite your exhaustion.

"Mirage?"

The mech snapped his helm around, optics wider than you'd ever seen them as he looked at you in total disbelief.

"Hey, you're not dead!" he gushed as he crawled across the cave, looking so overjoyed he must not have believed you'd ever speak again. Too worn out and stiff to chuckle, you managed to crack a smile as the mech leaned over you, seemingly drinking in your presence as if he hadn't seen you in ages. Not having the slightest clue how you'd gotten here, you found your head free of worry despite your injuries, and you couldn't resist the urge to crack a joke.

"Should I be?"

"No, definitely not! Don't you go getting any ideas!" Mirage replied, his tone a solid mix of playful admonishment and serious warning. Adjusting a small emergency blanket that you'd been loosely swaddled in, he fretted long enough for you to pick up on his worry despite the continued jokes. "I've busted my aft keeping you alive this long, you don't get to put all my hard work to waste."

"What happened?" you asked as you tried to hug the blanket closer, numb fingers making it nearly impossible. Confused but able to recall a blurry series of events, the lack of other Autobots stuck out to you, especially when you remembered the whole group had been together in battle the last time you'd seen them. Not seeing a single other being in the cave activated your worry. "Where's-?"

"Shhh, questions take stamina you can't spare. I'll do the talking for both of us." Mirage interrupted gently, still teasing but sounding much softer as he encouraged you to lie back. The warmth of his servo and the comfort of his much larger frame beside yours allowed you to relax and listen, but as you did so It became apparent you were still quite exhausted, and you had to fight the urge to sleep. A fascinating narrative made consciousness stick around despite your heavy eyelids. "It took some expert tracking, but Bee was able to find two sets of tracks; a big ugly bot and the human he was tearing after. Unfortunately enough for him, we found him first."

Now you could remember how you'd gotten into this mess; running from a Decepticon and trying to lose them in the dense, frozen forest... The last thing you'd seen of Mirage had been the main battle, and you couldn't even begin to recall how long you'd been out in the cold, but it was good to know everything had more or less worked out. If only you weren't so terribly cold...

"I don't know how you outran him, but you were sorta... asleep and awake when we found you, so cold you weren't even shivering. We called Noah, and he's arranging to meet Optimus somewhere "clandestine" and escort a medic this way. They're gonna look you over and then pretend they didn't see us." Mirage continued. Nodding in incomplete understanding, you tried to keep your eyes open, and would have yawned if you'd had the strength. You knew what was being said meant a lot to you, and that a doctor was very much in order, but it all felt so far away. Aching body going increasingly numb, you barely found the strength to reply.

"Thank you..." you croaked, so terribly tired you couldn't convince yourself that staying awake was worth it. Mirage reacted swiftly, cupping his hand behind your head and looking into your eyes. The fear in his optics made you yearn for the energy to comfort him, but as it was you couldn't even understand why he was so upset.

"Don't thank me, just stay awake, yeah?" he encouraged, positive facade crumbling as he scooped you up in a panic. Feeling his chest, which radiated a reduced but still appreciable amount of warmth, you sighed and leaned into his embrace. The speedster held you tightly against him, digits patting your cheek as he tried to get you to focus on him. "Talk to me, Y/N, tell me what I can do."

"Cold..." was all you could say, exhaustion all but dragging you down into unconsciousness. Only your desire not to upset him kept you awake, but you knew there was precious little fight left in you. Mirage frantically reached back to the damp wood he'd been attempting to dry and ignite with his blaster.

"Okay, okay... I can... Scrap, I can't get this to light!" he cried in briefly hopeless frustration, his servo transforming back into a limb so he could hold you close to share what little warmth he had to spare. The pain in his expression compelled you to comfort him, but you didn't have the strength to do anything but lay your hand on the glowing center of his chest. You only wanted him to know it was alright, but the mech took much more from the gesture, his optics widening before his brows furrowed in determination. "Plan B then; come here."

Snapping open his chest panels and revealing the beautiful yet surprisingly soft glow of his spark, he pulled you close, allowing you to practically snuggle against the heat generating essence of his being.

"Sorry if this is weird... but it's warm, right?" he said quickly, aware of the awkward intimacy even if the situation was desperate. Being held so close allowed you to finally thaw after hours of exposure, and the feeling of life returning to your limbs was soothing enough to compel you to sigh. Cradling you tightly against his spark, Mirage sat back against the cave wall and relaxed at your increasingly less pallid complexion, returning to a more playful tone filled with affection. "My spark always runs hot, part of being an Outlier. I'll keep you close until the doc gets here. Least I can do for my little space heater."

Smiling back at the joke, you sighed once more and touched your hand to his spark, able to feel the soft hum soothing your aching body. As much as you still yearned for sleep, being so close gave you the strength to stay awake a little longer, the growing ease in his frame compelling you to keep going for both your sakes. A tender cupping of your face helped make you all the more certain that everything was going to be alright.

Mirage continued to encourage you, the devotion in his spark more than warm enough to keep the dark, frigid cold of the cave at bay. "You just keep getting nice and toasty. I've got you..."