#mirage x you

[snipersfucker]

An apology, but we all want to read how they are inside and possibly the Autobots lose control when what they have been imagining for so long happens (like Mirage / Bee / or Optimus) you made us addicted to you writing

there are special little places where yall can get help with your addiction!! im not the remedy!! (i bite the walls every single time i get a compliment) ALSO lets just pretend bees vocal cords werent ripped out to the point he couldn't moan like a slut :) dubcon:/

Bee was desperate.

The way your hips swayed when you walked, the way the soft tone of your voice echoed in the insides of his helm, the way you'd wrap your fragile fingers around his steering wheel and squeeze it ever so slightly in a playful manner—he needed you.

And one day, after spending countless nights on imagining you stretched out on his throbbing spike, your tits bouncing with every slap of his hips against your bare ass, he finally got the honour of actually seeing you underneath him, not just picturing it in his mind.

Bee was desperate for you, but he was also shy. Which meant that you had to initiate all the talks, all the touches, and all the kisses. However, when he finally understood that he had you exactly where he wanted you, and when he heard you vocalise your desire for him, he just couldn't stop himself.

The soft exchange of pecks on each others' lips turned into a heated make-out session, his glossa quickly asking for permission to slip into your mouth just so he could get a proper taste for the first time. His metal body began overheating as soon as he felt your body straddling his lap, your legs on both side of his hips. Your bold move made him only crave more of your touch, him barely able to restrain himself from just having his way with you, manhandling you until you'd beg for him to stop absolutely ruining you for the pleasure of you both.

And he wanted to continue making a mess with his lips on yours, especially when you were making so many sweet noises just for him... But he had to take things further, feeling like his spark might just explode if he didn't.

So he pulled away slowly, making eye contact with you for just a mere second, only to see the needy expression on your face, which gave him a silent permission to jump right into what he'd planned to do. His lips quickly found their place on the side of your neck, his servos landing on your hips, subconsciously pushing your core into his abdomen to create more friction between you.

He began licking, kissing, nibbling, and sucking the skin gently into his intake to create pretty bruises on your neck which would show anyone that you belonged to him.

Your breaths were getting heavier, much more chaotic, them hitching in your throat every time he paid special attention to a particularly sensitive spot. Your needy whimpers were mixing with the sound of his vents trying to stop him from overheating, his reaction to you making you want more of him than you already had.

And you didn't know you already had him whole. He was yours.

"Bee, please..." you whined, your eyes closed shut, hands on both of his shoulders with a strong grip which he didn't mind at all.

Your words made him transform the area under his abdomen, now a hard spike on full display, its length slapping against your stomach with every intense throb. He didn't stop taking care of your neck for even a second, every whimper and groan of desperation being muffled by your skin as he continuously planted wet kisses all the way down from your jaw to your collarbone.

He was growing impatient.

His spike touching you was sending constant pleasurable electric shocks down his bipedalism cord, his spark nearly exploding when you grinded against it with your clothed core.

The grip of his digits on your hips tightened, and you'd probably have endless bruises on your sweet, soft skin tomorrow, and this thought should've made him feel at least a tad bad but he adored knowing that he left something while doing such sinful things with you.

When you moved and brushed against his length again, he groaned in impatience, pulling away just to lift the hem of your loose shirt with his digit to signal to you that he needed it off. You made eye contact with him as you got rid of the piece of clothing on your upper half. But it wasn't enough for him—he had to have you naked against him, every inch of your warm, human skin against his hot, metal one.

Before his digit moved to the waistline of your pants, you were already unbuttoning and unzipping them, getting out of his lap just to be able to take them off fully alongside with your panties, them ending up somewhere on the floor, probably next to your shirt.

His optics immediately shot to your cunt, the temptation to put his spike inside you overwhelming his body. He didn't even wait patiently for you to get back onto his lap on your own, as soon as he stopped devouring the sight of you in front of him in just a bra, he immediately pulled you towards him with both servos on your hips again, placing you on his lap, exactly where you belonged at that moment.

Now your bare core was brushing against his spike, and he couldn't refrain himself from letting a couple of desperate noises roll off him glossa. You decided to undress fully for him, taking your bra off and tossing it onto the pile of long forgotten clothes. His optics could barely take in the view before his lips found themselves on your tits, his intake giving attention to both, switching from teasing, licking and kissing the left one to doing exactly the same to the right one. Your hardened nipples made it possible for him to gently bite them, making you buckle your hips and moan his name shamelessly, your own noises not allowing you to hear your thoughts, as if there was anything else on your mind other than how good Bee's glossa felt when it curled up on your nipple, it getting sucked into his intake.

The remains of self-control he could find within himself were slipping through his digits, the force of his touches increasing with every passing second. At the same time, he was also getting more and more intense reactions from you, your body craving more as it pressed against his.

Bee groaned, impatience getting the better of him, as he wrapped his arm around your fragile, human body, lifting you up with your chest still to his.

He moved fast like a starving man, placing you gently on the hard floor of the garage, its coldness radiating to your body, adding a completely new sensation. You arched your back, exposing your chest even more to him, hoping he'd put his mouth on your already swollen and sensitive nipples, but he seemed to have other plans when, without a heads-up, he grabbed the back of both your thighs, and lifted up your hips so that now the only body parts of yours making contact with the cement underneath you were your upper back and your head.

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as you bit your lip to stop yourself from whimpering at the absolutely sinful sight of Bee kneeling down and hovering over you, spreading your legs and holding them pressed to your chest for better access to your dripping cunt.

You felt the tip of his spike teasing your hole which has been clenching over nothing for the past couple of minutes, finally about to get what it needed the most. And then, with one swift motion, Bee slid into you, the wet sound of his length entering your core echoed against the walls of your head.

A loud moan escaped the depths of your throat, lips parted, eyes closed themselves shut before you could even stop them, wanting to watch as the robot began trying to bottom out inside your warm cunt, but unfortunately his spike was too big for you to take for now.

It felt good. The pain from being so suddenly stretched out around him mixed with the pleasure from his spike hitting all the sweet spots inside you with the very first thrust of his hips.

Bee felt as if he no longer had control over his own body, the feeling of you wrapped around him, your warm cunt so inviting to just ruin it without second thoughts. And he could find absolutely no strength within himself to stop the almost animalistic desire to make you his in every meaning of this word.

His optics were trained on your face for mere seconds before his gaze shifted to the place where your bodies connected, your cunt covered in your own slick, the hole visibly stretched out to take his spike, even if it was only a half of his full length.

The idea of pushing the entire thing in only made him groan, the images of the bulge in your lower stomach he'd create flashing in front of his optics.

He threw his head back when he felt you clench around him, the sensation too much to handle.

You knew he was about to begin pounding into you as if it was the only thing he was made to do, the expression on his face and the look he was giving you the entire time confirming it.

"Bee..." you whined his name, not being fully aware what that sweet tone of your voice was doing to him.

So he just positioned himself better, pressing your thighs harder to your chest, taking almost the entire length of his spike out of your begging cunt, only to slam into you and put even more of him inside you.

You couldn't even control the noises escaping you anymore, your head thrown back because of the overwhelming pleasure.

Bee has had enough of waiting, the memory of him sitting in the corner of this garage, his spike in his servo as he kept fisting himself, overloading onto the hard floor multiple times just to get some relief after having to watch you walk around in your damned little dresses, your hips innocently swaying, your tits deliciously bouncing with every step.

Before you could register it, the robot was destroying your needy cunt with aggressive pounding, feeling as if he able to put more and more inches inside you with every slam of his hips against your ass.

His speed and the way he could hit all the best spots, even though the tip of his spike was kissing your cervix, made you constantly moan out loud, as if the walls of the garage were soundproof.

He kept making noises as well, although his were much deeper, more frustrated, as if he was chasing something he was so closed to catch but right before getting it, it'd just slip away from him.

He thought of this moment for a long time, the pink transfluid painting his servos on many occasions as he was imagining you in this exact position underneath him, squirming in pleasure.

But then, he came up with an even better idea, his body immediately following through, without even analysing it. He stopped mercilessly pounding into you just to manhandle you on your stomach, lifting your backside by your hips, spreading your legs to allow him to penetrate your needy cunt even more deeply. He positioned himself over you, his spike yet again pressing against your core for just a second before finally entering you once more. He didn't even waste time on preparing you to take him, just like the first time he pushed his length inside your pussy.

Now he had the opportunity to properly grope and slap your ass as much as he pleased, his hips constantly hitting it with every hard thrust he'd make. Tears began forming in the corner of your eyes, the feeling of being so perfectly stuffed by his spike making you shudder, moan and squirm beneath him.

His movements were rapid and chaotic, but he never slowed down, only increasing his speed, making mental notes of the noises you were making while he was fucking you so good.

"Bee, 't hurts..." you whimpered weakly in-between your loud, slutty moans, him taking it as an encouragement to continue ruining your cunt which was now clenching around him more than ever before. His one servo went to the back of your head tilted to the side, his digits gently stroking your hair as if it was supposed to help ease the pain mixing with pleasure, while the other one was still on your hip, pulling your body towards him at the same time he was pushing at it, making your skins hit each other with even more force.

You told him it hurt you but he couldn't stop.

He felt himself getting closer and closer to overloading, the warmth of your cunt getting sweetly unbearable as his movements became more sloppy, yet still as hard as before.

"Fuck." Curses kept spilling from your sinful mouth, feeling his thick spike throb inside you, indicating that he was probably about to finish.

The discomfort and pain of his metal hips hitting your much softer backside were slowly becoming less and less noticeable as complete pleasure washed over you, making you a wet, moaning mess underneath him.

With his two servos on your hips, he increased the speed of his movements once more, chasing the so desired release.

"Bee, please..." you whined again, your tits bouncing with every thrust, your hardened nipples brushing against the rough floor, "Overload in me..."

Your words were enough to tip him over the edge. With only a few more harsh slams into your tight cunt, he felt himself spurting his thick transfluid into your cervix, multiple groans and whimpers leaving his intake as he did so. He kept fucking the pink liquid into your cunt, not wanting a single drop to escape.

You could still feel his hard, metal hips hitting your ass, all until you clenched around him so tightly, he swore he could overload again just from that sensation alone. You came all over his thick spike, moaning loudly, your body shaking with indescribable pleasure from both his rough pounding as well as the knowledge that his transfluid was deep inside you.

Bee didn't pull out instantly, his thrusts decreasing in speed and force with every passing second, trying to ride out the remains of his and yours overloads.

You were panting and the robot was most definitely overheating, his metal body much hotter in touch than ever before, now his chassis pressed against your back as he began planting gentle kisses to your hair, his vents not being able to catch up.

After a long time that didn't feel long enough for him, he decided to pull away and take his spike out of your core filled with his transfluid, practically begging him to just fuck it again. But now, that his lust for you was somehow taken care of, he could regain the control over his body, and allow you to rest after getting absolutely ruined by him.

You rolled over onto your back yourself, clenching your thighs together when you felt his pink juices flooding out of you, wanting to keep them there for as long as possible. He smiled at your attempts to keep him inside you, the desire growing in his optics once again.

Bee gently wrapped his servos around your bare, exhausted body, lifting you up to place you down on the sofa he was previously occupying with you in his lap. As soon as you felt the plush against the skin of your back, you pulled the robot in your direction with your hands on both sides of his helm, making him bend his body so that you could kiss him passionately for the last time that night, knowing that he was most likely about to leave you to take care of his Autobot duties. He obliged without complaining, ready to slide into you again right then and there. And how disappointed he was when you pulled away with a soft smile, exhaustion finally catching up to you...

The corner of his slips curled up as he looked around in search for something to put on you. An abandoned blanket sitting on a wooden chair since he could remember would do. Before you could even notice he left you alone on the sofa, he was back, covering you from the neck down quickly but still making sure your whole body was under the soft fabric.

"Prime needs you?" you asked in a weak tone, your voice now only confirming how tired you actually were.

Prime needed him but he needed you.

Bee only nodded, to which you responded softly, "I'll stay here." And before he could even give you any sort of a physical confirmation that he got that, you already closed your eyes with a content expression written all over your face.

He smirked to himself, the sweet feeling of finally achieving his goal washing over him, him practically having been able to live in his dreams for a moment. His smile only widened when he came to a realisation...

He finally managed to mark you as his.

don't know if i made it he-lost-control enough but i tried and that's what counts in my books. also, i made it an oneshot but if you wanted separate hcs for these characters ill be more than willing to write it

#somebody out there wanted bee content and there it is. #kinda perv!bee tbh hes a lil weird in there #WAS IT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE SMUT #transformers rotb #rotb #transformers #wattpad #bumblebee smut #bumblebee fluff #bumblebee x you #bumblebee x reader #bumblebee fanfiction #bumblebee angst #smut #transformers smut #robot smut #robot/human #mirage x you #mirage x reader #mirage #mirage x my pussy #mirage rotb #mirage transformers

[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.

#mirage rotb #mirage x reader #transformers rotb #transformers x reader #mirage x you #valveplug #tf mirage #maccadam #nsfw//// #transformers #rise of the beasts #i wrote this entire thing on my phone in like 4 days so excuse any spelling mistakes LMFAO #doq.fic

[writeyouin]

Mirage X Reader - Falling

Description (This was a request but it got sent to my PMs instead of my inbox by accident): When Alison Moyet's song Falling comes on the radio, Mirage is forced to think about you and his feelings towards you.

A/N – Yep, so another Mirage one for all of you desperately waiting for the film to come out on a good pirating site in top quality.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You stood at the sink washing dishes, a tune on your lips that you mumbled quietly to yourself, only half singing with your mind on other things like lost loves, failed relationships, and someone new in your life; Mirage.

“She said something like, I’m tired of me,” You sang Alison Moyet’s ‘Falling’, and then transitioned to whistling part more of the tune which had only come out a year prior.

Then, without the radio to follow, you reset to an earlier part of the tune, singing whichever little bits came to mind.

Little did you know, Mirage was spying on you, trying his best to imitate the stealthy way Arcee moved. Alas, subtlety wasn’t Mirage’s strong suit and he had already knocked over a row of garbage cans, and crushed some kid’s bike; he could only hope the bike wouldn’t be missed. Fortunately, among the usual noise and squalor of New York, nobody had cared about the sound or come out to explore.

Mirage wasn’t trying to be a creep by observing you. He just wanted to know more about your life and what you did. It seemed that in your day-to-day routine, you were obsessed with music. Bumblebee had already introduced Mirage to the concept of human music which was vastly different from the stuff that used to exist on Cybertron and Mirage liked it.

It was different from what he was used to for sure, but there were some songs he just couldn’t resist. The Twisted Sister song ‘We’re Not Gonna Take It,’ seemed to be a great Frag You to any Decepticon scum that attempted battle with him. And there was that one Bumblebee had introduced to him, ‘I Can’t Drive 55’, by that Sammy Hager fella. That was great, but Mirage was more than capable of beating that set speed and regularly did so when he wanted to bait the local authorities into a fun chase.

Still, he wasn’t sure he saw the appeal of this song. It sounded happy and sad at the same time, and he couldn’t decide which it was supposed to be with its New Wave vibe. Was it about falling, like it said? Falling for what? Mirage wasn’t sure, but you seemed to enjoy it. You hummed it quite a lot when you were thinking; he wasn’t sure you realised that you did that. It was one of the things he liked about you. It felt like you were letting your guard down when you hummed along to half a tune, and he enjoyed that you could feel so relaxed around him and the other Autobots.

Mirage might have called on you that night to ask you out on a drive; he liked your company. Alas, he got a message from Optimus telling him to return for the evening so they might meet the humans that Noah had been found by. Apparently, the new humans wished to discuss the possibility of an alliance with the Autobots.

Either way, Optimus’ message ended with, “Return to the rendezvous immediately.”

“Mirage, return,” Mirage mocked, impersonating Optimus. “Mirage, meet the humans. Mirage, I choose you.”

“Did I ask for your backtalk?” Optimus’ gravelly voice came through the radio.

“Scrap!” Mirage hurried to end the communication, having not realised that the line was still open when he had been joking around.

He transformed and raced off to the rendezvous point, any thoughts of you temporarily forgotten.

The next night, the Autobots stood in a unified line as they stared at their new base, a fully functional warehouse, with technology that they could use, even if it was primitive Earth tech.

“Optimus, can we trust these humans?” Arcee asked, her optics never leaving the building.

“We must try, Arcee. I see now that we have spent too much time working only for ourselves when we should have been working together.”

“Any way you want it, that’s the way you need it,” Bumblebee played from his speakers, using Journey’s immortalised words to convey his point.

Arcee looked past Optimus to catch a glimpse of Mirage, “You’ve been awfully quiet, Mirage. Thoughts?”

Mirage marched himself in front of the trio, clapping his servos together as he began his speech, “Well, I mean, clearly there’s a lot to think about here. There are the new humans we know, we have to check the place for bugs, and of course, there’s the most important matter of all-” He took a few slow steps backwards, “- who gets the biggest room. I call dibs!”

With that Mirage spun on his heel and pelted towards the base. Bumblebee, unwilling to let Mirage have all the fun joined in the race and chased after his ally, though when he had just about caught up, Mirage jumped backwards, crashing into Bumblebee and knocking him over. Before he could sprint off again, Bumblebee grabbed Mirage’s ankle and the two began brawling on the floor.

Optimus walked past the wrestling bots with dignity befitting his position and a dismayed shake of his head.

Arcee took a few steps closer to her allies, resting her servo on her hip as she took in the show.

‘Scouts will be scouts,’ She thought mirthfully.

Eventually, the competition was over, with Bumblebee the clear victor, and after sitting on top of Mirage for ten minutes, he finally let him get up, but only after Mirage admitted that Bumblebee was the best Autobot and the supreme Earth expert.

After that, they raced through the base, checking out every nook and cranny, and wondering which exits they could exploit and sneak out of, should Optimus try to ground them from the drive-in again.

Eventually, Bumblebee and Mirage settled down, each picking out a portion of the warehouse that was just for them. All rooms had been modified with individual entrances so they could come and go as they pleased. Mirage had even been hooked up with some sweet racing posters. He set about decorating the room to his liking, letting his internal radio play as he did so. After switching channels, he stumbled across the song you liked so much.

Curiously, he let it play, trying to really listen to what the lyrics meant.

She said something like I want to go Down where the river's wild He said take me then I want to drown Deep in your violent eyes

Deep in your violent eyes? Was it a love song? If it was, it was the strangest one he had heard before.

He continued listening.

But I want to be sure of one thing That I'm getting into something peaceful I want to fly in on your wing Way, way up here I don't care for anything It's all in, and I'm not afraid I don't fear Falling

There was no doubt about it. The song was indeed about falling in love.

Mirage felt a sharp prick of indignation. Were you in love with someone? He had to assume so, considering that you didn’t seem to sing anything else. It was always this song. Who were you in love with, and why did he care so much?

He wasn’t sure, but the idea of you with someone else made Mirage’s engines rev and his face contort disgustedly. You were his buddy, his pal, his partner in crime. Why did you need some stupid, boring human, when you could hang out with him? Speaking of which, when was the last time the two of you had hung out of late? You hadn’t been together much since he’d been repaired. Well, with his room claimed and little else to do, Mirage decided that tonight was as good as any to get in some bonding time.

He transformed, revving his engine loudly as he waited for the automatic garage door to open for him. His wheels spun on the spot in a move that would have burned rubber on any ordinary car. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened enough for him to slip through and he sped off, ignoring every speed limit he came across; if Prime gave him the third degree about laying low later, he would claim ignorance and take whatever punishment he was given.

When Mirage got to your house, he honked his horn loudly, waiting for you to open your window and see him. He couldn’t transform into his root-mode while a few seedy humans lingered about, so he had to wait for you to get to him… presuming you weren’t with someone lame, like a crush you hadn’t mentioned.

At the commotion, you poked your head out of the window, grinning when you saw Mirage. You held up two fingers, indicating that you would be two minutes and then hastily got changed from your pyjamas back into your day clothes. Grabbing your keys, you ran outside and climbed into Mirage’s passenger seat, buckling up in case he decided to take off before speaking as he was prone to do; buckling up was indeed a wise choice as Mirage took speedily to the streets.

“So,” You asked casually, “Business or pleasure?”

“Have you ever seen me do business? Business is for the big guy, you know, never smiles, never shows me that underbite, the big OP,” Mirage sassed you.

“I dunno, you seemed pretty business when you fought Scourge for me.”

“For you? No, no, no, I was fighting Scourge just for the sake of being the tri-planet champion.”

“Tri-planet champion?” You repeated incredulously. “You only fought him on Earth.”

“Yeah, but he’s from Galvatron, the living freaking planet. He fought on the Maximals’ planet, and he came here. Count ‘em – One, two, three. So, I digress, Tri-planet Champion.”

“Well, technically Noah was the one to face off with him, so-”

“Yeah, while he was inside me.”

“Okay, but Optimus was the one who took him offline.”

“Look, Optimus is always gonna be the champion of frowning and hard stares, a class I can’t compete in, so this is my thing.”

“All right,” You held up your hands in mock defeat. “You’re the champion.”

“Damn straight.”

“…Is the Champion going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere, Anywhere the road takes us. Just sit back and relax. We could listen to some music,” Mirage suggested innocently, his hidden agenda on his processor.

“Sure, then I can be the champion of karaoke,” You bragged.

“Against my voice? In your dreams.”

“Oh, so you can fight, race, and sing? Triple threat.”

Mirage laughed and turned on his radio. He let a few songs play, letting you sing along while he distractedly kept his inner workings tuned on finding the Alison Moyet hit. It would likely play soon, considering its popularity.

After a few good tunes, Mirage managed to find the song and he switched channels.

“Oh hey, I’ve heard this one before,” He said nonchalantly, “This is that sappy love song, right?“

“I don’t think it’s that sappy,” You defended with a smile.

“Oh yeah? Why? Does it make you think of someone special or something?”

You imagined how easy it would be to tell Mirage the the ‘someone special’ was him; as it turned out, it wouldn’t be easy at all. You clamped your mouth shut, a blush peppering your cheeks.

“So there is someone!” Mirage said all too accusingly. “You won’t be needing me anymore then, when this new person comes into your life.”

“You sound angry.”

“No I don’t!” Mirage replied huffily, proving your point. “You know what? I don’t think I like this song after all.”

He turned the radio off and the two of you sat in awkward silence. He kept on driving, slamming down on the accelerator. There was a lot of noise from honking cars as he sped in and out of their way.

“Just tell me who it is!” Mirage demanded petulantly when the silence finally got to him. “Is it Noah? He’s probably your type, right?”

“Why do you care?” You asked, annoyed and upset by the turn of events from nice drive to speedy interrogation.

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you asking so many questions?”

“I just feel I deserve to know who it is.”

“NO YOU DON’T!” You yelled back. “THEY’RE MY FEELINGS”

“AND I’M YOUR FRIEND,” Mirage countered as if that ought to give him the right to know everything you thought.

“This is so stupid,” You breathed, shaking your head.

“Come on!” Mirage insisted. “Tell me!”

“No.”

“Tell me!”

“No!”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me-”

Against Mirage’s frustrating onslaught, you finally yelled, “IT’S YOU!”

Mirage slammed hard on the breaks and you lurched forward, hissing as the seatbelt bit painfully into your collar bone. Fortunately, you were in an area with no cars on the road, having got off the interstate some time ago.

“What?” Mirage asked.

“It’s nothing, just… take me home, please,” You begged, scared now that you had said too much.

“You like me? Like romantically? You like me romantically? You romantically like me?”

“You done with the combinations?” You said bitterly.

“But I’m- I’m an alien.”

“Yeah,” You threw your hands up. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. Now will you please take me home?”

Mirage transformed his arm, pulling you out of his chassis as the rest of his body followed suit. From his palm, you looked down to the floor, wondering whether it would be better to jump and get a concussion rather than have the embarrassing conversation that was about to follow.

“I don’t get it,” Mirage said, staring at you as if you were a complicated mathematics problem.

“I know,” You said, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself as if it might protect you from the sorrow you were feeling.

“No, but like, I really don’t get it. I thought you were just a friend, and kind of cool but I think- I think I feel the same way, maybe?”

You watched Mirage guardedly, unsure as to why he was asking you when it was his feelings that were scrambled.

“Look, Mirage, you don’t have to pity me, okay? Please don’t test yourself on me. I know I’m not what you’d look for and-”

Mirage pressed his lips against yours then hastily pulled away. You stared at him, too scared to speak.

He nodded to himself, pecked your lips again, and then vented a quick puff of air from his systems.

“Yeah, yep, yes,” He stammered. “That- That was a feeling. A-ha. Yeah, so I just found out I have a thing for you too.”

“You serious?” You asked, making sure that Mirage was alright as he stumbled through a barrage of new feelings.

“Yeah, I uh- I get the song now. Still don’t love it, but I get it.”

“Seriously? You’re still thinking about the song?”

“Hey, I’m thinking about a lot of things at once here (Y/N), mostly how I’m going to explain this to Prime later, a little bit about how this is going to work, and yeah, the song slipped in there. Frankly, I think we need to get you more into Bon Jovi, but I guess this could be our song or whatever.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “This was not how I pictured any of this going.”

“Yeah,” Mirage nodded, pacing back and forth, the motion rocking you on his palm, “But at least we got a song, right? Most new couples got nothing.”

Despite your tiredness, you couldn’t help smiling at his straightforward manner of thinking, “Sure, Mirage. At least we have a song.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #transformers #maccadam #tf #transformers rise of the beasts #optimus prime #bumblebee #arcee #mirage #mirage x reader #mirage x you #falling #alison moyet

[sinning-23]

My Latest crush is an alien car from space Pt.3

Yall is eating this UPPP (rise of the mirage simps lmao) and I appreciate that so so much! Thank you all for the 300+ followers that's insane! Also, the taglist got bigger too! I got yall don't even worry about it lol. Anywho, there's a fuck ton of tension in this one and in the final part, I think yall know what's going diz-ownnnnn (alexa play pony by genuine) Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

(Heres the link to pt.2 luv)

Without further ado, ENJOY! (this one is a little short but pt.4 will be kinda lengthy)

Pt.3 

Gimmie one margarita imma…

He was far taller than Mirage, robotic features more stressed-looking than anything. And before either you Noah or Mirage could protest, he pick you up by your shirt, your hands reaching to flatten your skirt. There was about a 99% chance you’d just flashed both Noah and Mirage. 

The larger bot who you assumed was named Prime scans you, and soon his voice sends shivers down your spine. 

“Who are you?” 

The question is simple really but knowing you and the fact that he just picked you up with no kind of manners makes you slightly more irritable in your answer. Maybe you were a little butt hurt Mirage didn’t volunteer this information about there being other to you but know him he’d probably just say ‘You never asked!’ With that stupid, pretty, dumb, adorable look on his faceplates.

“I’m not answering anything because you just picked me up and expected me to give you answers. That’s rude first of all. Mirage, come get him-” You huff, seeing the larger bot raise a brow in response and look at the silver and blue-clad Autobot.

Mirage only chuckles nervously, removing you from Prime’s grasp, and putting his hands up in defense. You’d been only a tinnny bit aggressive when you’d met a couple days ago so why he expected you to be all peaches and cream with Optimus somewhat interrogating you, he had no idea. 

“Listen, had another tiny setback. I promise this one isn’t always so…fussy. She’s cool. Cross my spark.” He explains nervously, seeing Prime's optics narrow. This mf just called you fussy? Like a damn infant??? 

You go to speak out, but the depth sounding in Prime’s vocalizer makes you freeze. 

“You seem to have no concept of that undercover means. How you’ve landed in this predicament twice still baffles me” Prime sighs, looking back down at you. 

You’d managed to take refuge behind Mirage, still embarrassed by the fact that you were almost 100% sure he got a glimpse of your panties. Despite the garage being empty yesterday, it obviously had some other tenants who hadn’t a clue in the world you existed until now. This was way outta your league. Robots and 3 more of them at that, were far too overwhelming and you’d be damned if you wound up in the middle of some cyber bullshit.

Sure you liked Mirage, his personality and kind of play boyish looks made you swoon MAYBE a little bit….but from the looks of it, there were already girls like that back where he lived, hell one of them was just standing behind Prime while he chewed out Mirage…..AND WHY WAS SHE KINDA CAKED UP? That was beside the point though, they already had one human (Noah), and Prime wasn't looking for any extras (you) from what it looked like. 

Taking your chance to escape, you grab your purse and slide out of the garage quietly. The others were going from somewhat scolding Mirage to discussing a plan for something you didn’t quite care about at the moment. The best option was to disengage and maybe things could go back to normal! You could pack up for your apartment. Go back to work, maybe you’d do something with mechanics after this instead of nursing all day? You pop your AirPods in and press shuffle. 

It was getting late but there was just enough sun to find you a spot to wait for an Uber home. You’d talk with Mirage later, it looked like he had other priorities. Speaking of which, what was that whole interaction??? You shake the thought away, that moan replaying in your mind. This was so wrong.

Your heart beats faster at the thought of how he seemed to melt under you, his servos hovering over your hips, wanting to touch but being so unsure. The way his otic seemed to be hazy and the way his fan picked up in speed. You run your hands down your face and sigh, definitely feeling like a drink would be the best option….speaking of which, you never did get your night out.

_______________

It didn’t take long before Mirage realized you weren’t behind him. You’d obviously hightailed it during Optimus’s scolding and slipped past him like a thief in the night. Part of him knows you’re capable of handling yourself but the other half knows it’s not safe, especially now that you both have been formally introduced. And with what Arcee had reported, Brooklyn wasn’t getting any safer.

Apparently, a few more terrorcons had made their way back and we’re trying to do a bit of avenging considering Optimus ended Scourge rather brutally. In all, Mirage wasn’t one for the violence but when it came to helping his friends and the ones he loved, he’d set that aside for the best. 

Anyway, he didn't want you going anywhere without him, a sense of more or less responsibility for you washing over him. It was more of a protective feeling than anything, wanting to be the one to save you and keep you safe no matter what. The thought of you thanking him as your hero makes him weak. You knew what you were doing, touching him like that. He still couldn't get over the fact that you claimed it was for science….bullshit. The feeling was quickly becoming addictive and the longer you spent together the more he wanted you…fat chance. 

________ 

Remixed renditions of Kesha songs blast through the clubs' speakers as you and your girls dance the night away. You each took about 3 shots to get your blood pumping and your closest friend was about to make it 4. Your body moves on its own, bass filling your chest as you catch any and all ass your friends decide to throw. You took pictures and posted them on your story and everything seemed good!...sorta. The last of your worries should be some cyber alien crush that isn't even here right now…you can't help but let your mind drift.

A wave of…what was that guilt? Washes over you as you take a break from the dance circle, alerting your girls that you be ‘going to the bathroom’ a lie of course. Maybe this wasn't a good idea? Part of you felt kinda committed to Mirage. Before you could make it down the hall past all the commotion, a pair of hands are warm against your hips. Whoever it is… they're tall. The faint smell of motor oil fills your senses and you whip around to see a pretty good-looking stranger with eyes blue as the damn sky smirking at you. 

“Where you going, mamas?” He questions, moving his hips side to side playfully with the rhythm of the music.

You can't help but giggle. Something about him was so.. comfortable and fun and familiar, and so so so damn charming! He's smiling right back at you freckles somewhat adorning his face as his curly black hair falls over his eyes. He looks mixed, more so Hispanic or Latino and black. Blue eyes were odd though, but it didn't matter because, at the end of the day, this man looked like he'd won the genetic lottery.

Soon enough, you're back on the floor the cheers of your homegirls reaching your ears and you shake your head. This was just some spontaneous dude that just HAPPENED to catch you before you made it to the bathroom, not like you really needed to go anyway. He sways you, pulling a few cheesy dance moves here and there but it is enough to make you giggle. The previous song soon is chopped and screwed and transitioned to what sounded like a reverbed version of ‘Streets’.

Either way, the air had changed while people, couples or otherwise began finding space on the floor to dance up on one another. He didn't say much, spinning you slowly just before pulling your body to his gently. You may talk a lot of game, but you'd never danced with someone like this, let alone be so close. The feeling of his front pressed to your back makes you weak, the feeling sinking lower and lower as he holds each of your hips.

“Cálmate mama’s. You know I got you right?” He hums, your body relaxing a bit as you find the rhythm again, rolling your body with his to test the waters

That voice was so familiar….you ignore it, thinking it must the alcohol. There was no way he could…could he?

You didn't care, letting your head roll back and rest against his shoulder, your bodies synching with each other, his touch never feeling forced or aggressive. It's soft, kind, and almost loving...like he just wants to be able to feel your warmth, know the way you move. You work up the courage to speak, voice small, almost nervous. 

“I didn't catch your name stranger.”You state, hoping his response would answer your question.

If this was really him, then there was no reason to feel bad about how up close and personal this was getting. 

“You know my name, pretty girl. Kinda rude of you to walk out on me don't you think? You're lucky Noah was able to see where you were at based on your story.” He reveals, making you smile. 

So it was him but how? Some kind of alien car tech you didn't know about? You didn't care, he was here and you were ACTUALLY holding him somehow. 

“I'm sorry, looked like that meeting was important.” You explain, pressing against him more now, his grip tightening when you did, a hiss escaping his lips. 

“It was but when I noticed you’d left I panicked a little. Noah told me where to find you and I knew I couldn't just waltz in. I'm parked outback, this is just a holoform.” He explains, flashing that stupid smile. 

“So that's what this is, you look good 'Rag. Not the first time you've done this I'm assuming. You're far too good of a dancer.” You joke hearing gasp in faux hurt. 

“Wowww it's like that lil mama? You're breakin' my spark.” He chuckles, pressing into you, making a gasp escape your throat.

You felt it…holy shit it was right against you, the miniskirt not helping at ALL, in fact, any more friction and he'd be right against your panties. The grip on your hips is only making you hot and his voice so close to your ear isn't helping. He smirks against the skin of your neck and takes the risk of kissing there. Another gasp, only this time it was more or less a whine. 

“I'm not doing anything else until you tell me I got the green light. We both know this tension can only build for so long ‘til one of us breaks and I'm for damn sure about to fall apart if I can't taste you soon.” He admits, his voice trembling slightly when he speaks.

He was right though. The last 2 days had been filled with nothing but flirting, touching, and teasing and before you were so rudely interrupted in the garage earlier you were sure you were closer and closer to giving head. The music is still playing and most of your girls had given the two of you space to ‘dance’ a couple texting you to let you know where they were in case you needed them. It was definitely time to leave because any longer in this dark little corner of the club and you'd be trying to peel your clothes off. 

He can practically feel your begging to lose any sense of morals, a few drink making your brain only a little foggy. That’d ware off by time you made it back home if you played your cards right. Turning to face him you cant help but let your eyes drift to his lips. 

“You gonna let me ride?” You hum, lips pressed to his neck.

___________________________________________________________

Aweeee shit the perfect set up for pt.4 cause in the words of miss Megan thee stallion... we finna ride that dik like a stolen car HAHAAAA

No-so-mini-Taglist: @gniteruirui @veggiepizzababy @panty-h03 @justmare @merpmederp @rainbowpr1sm @mad-simp420 @insane-scientist

#x reader #reader is black #i don't care he's hot #transformers #mirage #transformers rise of the beasts #mirage transformers #it’s just #i just think hes neat #hes so hot #fine i’ll do it myself #i need him #mirage x you #mirage x reader #mirage smut #rise of the beasts #rotb mirage #tf rotb #transformers mirage #thirsty over metal men #hes just soooooo #mirage gets scolded #wth is a holoform #im outta town thuggin with my- #hands #arcee kinda thique

[1-800-c0sm1c]

꒰win it all !꒱

to build hype around the new season, your arrival to the games was kept a secret up until it went live, and some legends had more notable reactions than others.

character x legend!reader

includes crypto, octane, and mirage !

a/n : im sorry ive been gone but look i made you some contenttttt daddy made you your favorite open wide 🥳. im noticing a severe lack of apex fanfics rn so here is my contribution 🤲.

warnings : mentions of stalking (average crypto behavior), drugs (average octane behavior), & mentions of hooking up (you guessed it, average mirage behavior).

CRYPTO // TAEJOON PARK: 

crypto doesnt like surprises, period. its one thing if its mediocre like a birthday party, but a whole person was hidden under his nose and he had no idea? unacceptable.

in summary, youve shattered his ego simply from your presence. not cool.

hes not really known for looking approachable either, so unless youve got the balls or stupidity to talk to him, hell keep to himself and sulk. this sets back any plans he had in the back of his mind by a whole season.

when you introduce yourself to him on the dropship he practically ignores you, acting as if anything else is more interesting than this small talk.

"hi im y/n, ive heard a lot about you from mirage. nice to meet you!" he rolls his eyes, witt is always one to blabber about others.

you scoff at his response, "dont expect me to be as open and idiotic as elliott." he almost adds you to that list, but holds back on it. if anything lifeline has told him holds weight, you could be useful to get information from the syndicate.

"im crypto by the way." he continues, if he plays his cards right you could almost be worth his time.

getting paired with you and mirage was almost comical, its as if the games were trying to make his life as hard as possible.

you got along annoyingly well with mirage, but you seemed more hesitant when it came to crypto, which was truly bothered him. (it was not jealousy at all. he was not jealous whatsoever. nope, definitely not.)

hes struggling to interact with you, like he does with most of the other legends, but youre a different case due to how useful you could be to him. thats usually the reasoning he uses when he racks his brain for ideas to come across less mean without irreparably ruining his reputation.

as if his prayers had been answered, a few hours after your first game you appear in the doorway to his room with a piece of high tech equipment in your hand. but your expression is different from how it was before. you appear upset, how can you be angry with him already? youve barely interacted!

if you want to be pissy, so can he. "can i help you? he asks, annoyance in his voice. "im almost sure you can, brilliant hacker." you drop the equipment in front of him on his desk, distracting him from his current project. he scowls. "what exactly am i looking at here?" you roll your eyes. "you tell me, this is clearly yours right? found it in my room." 

he examines the object, looks like a hidden camera. "ive never seen this before, if you want me to fix it call someone else, im not tech support." he pushes it to the side, but youre not having it. "nuh-uh, you cant brush this off. i know youve created the cameras used to record the games, this has to be your tech!"

so you think hes stalking you? thats a good idea honestly, he wish he had thought of it first. "just because i created those doesnt mean i also designed this. looks like someone else wants to keep an eye on you. got anyone in mind?" you pause for a moment, letting his words sink in. why cant it just be an open and shut case?

"i have no idea, i just got here! is anyone else even knowledgeable enough to design something like this?" he shrugs. "looks can be deceiving." "will you at least help me figure out whos stalking me?" he wants to say no. he knows its bad news, especially for someone like him to get involved in. but its a great opportunity to get closer to you. closer to his end goal, and despite it truly not being the only reason, he decides its good enough for him. "i guess i can make time, tell me about your interactions since youve joined." 

from this point on, you and crypto get much closer, it feels like he knows everything about you. (maybe he does honestly 💀.)

but you can tell hes getting frustrated when it comes to the hidden camera, and you cant help but feel like a nuisance. 

on the surface, crypto looks like you are whats stressing him out. why hes angrier than usual, why hes drowning himself in his work. and in a way thats true, but not exactly.

in reality, hes more worried for your safety. your arrival was an entire surprise, so how could someone have infiltrated your room to begin with? he cant figure it out, and almost entirely forgets the original reason he wanted to get to know you. 

its no longer a matter of getting information, that can wait. he has all season after all. but someone else trying to watch you? he wont tolerate it, and wants it to be the first thing thats fixed, he likes you much better when youre not paranoid, not like him.

OCTANE // OCTAVIO SILVA:

HYPED!!! another legend is always exciting to octane, even more so when he gets lucky enough to be paired with them.

octavio can be a bit much at times, but you match his energy almost perfectly! 

dedication to the apex games, and genuinely having a great time, not finding him annoying??? he should ask if youre into hard drugs too at this point.

anyone who goes up against the two of you on a team together should fear for their lives. octane swears hes never had so much fun in a match before. (almost as much fun as id have if kings canyon was in the map rotation this season ☹.)

theres a voice in the back of his head that he cant shake, telling him youre someone sent from the syndicate to mess with him, or maybe something worse.

he doesnt want to risk making you upset with him (like some other legends) so he reluctantly keeps these thoughts to himself, but due to his online personality being so similar to his real self, you almost immediately notice a change.

you decide to confront octane after the match, and originally he completely disregards your questions.

"what are you on about, compadre? im fine, really!" but youre not having it, and octane knows youre not going to drop this so easily.

"i just cant help but think this isnt how you usually act outside of games." you shrug when he asks for your reasoning of pressing on. "well how would you know? you just got here." he chuckles. "which i think is exactly why youre hiding things from me. i understand though, its hard to trust someone you just met. i only had an outsiders perspective up until a few hours ago."

"thats exactly whats so scary about you amigo. you seem like youre some fuckin syndicate spy!" "why? because we get along?" octane sighs. maybe having a legend who understands him is a bad thing. its easier to justify someone who hates him, theres plenty reason to. but like him? enjoy his company? hes confused, to say the least.

hes frantically reaching for one of his stims, if his mind is going to be racing so frantically, the rest of his body might as well do the same. "lets leave this here for now, yeah? ive got some videos to film!" he gets up quickly, but stops dead in his tracks when you offer to help him with his stunts. he whips around back over to you. "you sure?" you nod with a smile that might make him more energetic than any stim could. "alright cmon cmon cmon! i hope you known how to hold a camera, if you miss any good shots im gonna be pissed!"

rumors start about octanes elusive camera operator, all kinds of misinformation spreads too, some of it crazier than others. 

you personally find it funny, sometimes tempting the viewers by almost flipping it around to show your face, but youre stopped by octane and his ridiculously fast reflexes everytime.

"hey hey amigo no need to ruin the mystery! plus you totally just didnt film that awesome stunt i just did! what am i paying you for!?" 

you try your best to stop yourself from laughing, but at this point youre sure it must be obvious its you behind the camera, youre just going along with the "mystery" because octane asked you to by whispering in your ear that it "increases his interaction" or whatever influencer bullshit. (you were more focused on his voice than what he was saying tbh 🧍.)

the other legends are sick of you two at this point, and are just about ready to expose the "secret" to get octane to shut up 😭. when i say you guys are always together doing stupid shit i mean ALWAYS!!

MIRAGE // ELLIOTT WITT:

a flirt wbk. expect to be invited to lots of yacht parties.

mirage is known to have a very welcoming aura, and you noticed this the second you first interacted on the dropship. (anyone wanna take me out? come find me 🤭.)

you guys are on the same team for tdm, and he is almost constantly by your side.

someone sneaks up behind you? hes already sending a decoy their way so you can get the upper hand.

in case you miss? no worries, hes right behind you with pinpoint accuracy. (talk about a great first impression.)

you guys absolutely crushed the opposite team 50-15, and mirage hurriedly rushes over to you the second the match is concluded to invite you to his celebration party that night.

youre more surprised he has the energy to still keep going after such an intensive match, and you barely get the chance to say maybe before hes walking away excitedly.

uh, actually i might sit this one out-" "cool, cool, cool. ill see you tonight!"

lets just say things get… interesting on the mirage a trois 😀.)

you hooked up on the boat okay, youre not the first (and might not be the last either.)

parties werent necessarily your thing, but after elliott had practically won the game for you today, you figured showing up was the least you could do to return the favor. you were honestly just hoping the yacht didnt blow up like youd heard about his other ones doing…

you arrive way later than everyone else in hopes that you arent the first person there, but your current situation is almost just as awkward as everyone assumes you managed to get lost on your way here. (as if you could miss mirages yacht if you tried…) however, you probably did look just as lost as everyone assumed you were while trying to find mirage in the sea of decoys and other party guests.

when you finally stop getting bamboozled and find the real mirage, you try to explain you were only stopping by out of politeness, but hes not having any of it. "what do you mean youre leaving already? weve gotta make up for all the partying time lost while you werent here!" he hands you a drink and leads you to a table with crypto and wattson, who seem to have just had an… important conversation interrupted with your presence.

"if theres anyone you wanna get to know in the games, other than me of course, these are the legends!" youre almost amazed at how mirage chooses to ignore the awkward atmosphere hes created, and manages to smooth it over in record time as well. crypto looks as annoyed as ever, meanwhile wattson attempts her best at a conversation with the group, and you almost wish you never showed up in the first place.

‘almost’ is the key word here, you knew deep down you didnt really have anywhere else to be, and going along with whatever such an attractive legend says was surely better than staying in your dorm room and missing out on a night of fun. which is exactly why when elliott leaned closer to your ear and said something that definitely wasnt pg-friendly, you downed your drink and made quick goodbyes to his friends before leaving to a secluded area of the yacht with the party host himself. 

i think by now the other legends are just waiting for you two to finally announce theres something between you. 

everyone, and i mean everyone seems to know, and i swear rampart is one more flirtatious comment away from exposing your corny asses during the next match.

however, youre hesitant. youre still incredibly new to the games, isnt it odd for things to be moving so fast?

sure, elliott is great, but you cant help but have an anxious feeling in your stomach, and making the mistake of looking at comments online surely isnt helping either.

mirage noticed your shift in behavior immediately, hes been around you more than any of the other legends, and he expects to be the first to hear of whats troubling you (if youre okay with it, of course).

he might not seem like it at first glance, but mirage really is a great listener. despite your first impressions of him making him out to be well… a party-loving flirt, he has so many more layers to him than whats on the surface level.

when he gets serious, hes not cracking his usual jokes, although hes still got his awkward charm. 

"i just… feel like were moving too fast. its only been a month since ive joined the game after all…"

he thinks for a moment before responding calmly, "well i mean, if you wanna take things slower, all you had to do was ask. besides we have all the time in the world! as long as you dont have some secret plan to leave the games or something, than were fine!" you smile at him.

okay, maybe he does still joke a little bit, put i promise its fine in context 😭😭.

can you tell i like crypto (especially jealous crypto) a totally normal amount 😦 totally not inspired by the mcc song by derivakat 🫶

#✧;;↬ my work.❞┊🍓 #apex legends #apex legends x reader #crypto #park tae joon #octane #octavio silva #mirage #elliott witt #crypto x reader #octane x reader #mirage x reader #apex legends fanfic #apex crypto x reader #apex octane x reader #apex mirage x reader #crypto x you #octane x you #mirage x you #apex legends x you

[danddymaro]

Cuddle | Mirage x Reader

sweet fluff where you lay next to Mirage

isn’t he sweet?

Word count: 235

Cuddle

As you lay on your bed, your belly was pressed against the mattress with your  forearms fitting snug in between a fluff of assorted pillows.

Elliot sleeps next to you without a care in the world, entirely vulnerable as he continues to snuggle into the comfort of the mattress even more.

He’s a heavy sleeper, one that tends to sleep through the morning time, while you wake up early. It’s not always by choice, but it tends to happen often enough for him to gloat about how you two are a perfect fit. 

Sometimes you can fall back to sleep, but on that morning you didn’t feel like making an attempt to try doing so. 

-Not when you catch sight of him. 

The way he scrunches his face makes you smile, but not any more than when he says your name in a little, whiney voice that has you softly giggling.

You shake your head too, amused, and tickled pink.

His voice is soft, nearly hoarse as he calls for you, not knowing you are right there with him, and the idea that he's in a world where anything is possible, yet he includes you, has your heart soaring.

your face gently warms as you brush your fingers over the messy curls that have become tangled during his sleep. The curls have become frizzed with his nighttime turning, and they've shrunk moreso, becoming tighter springs you adore.

It’s a shame he doesn’t wear his natural hair out more often.

 Soon, you can't help but have your fingers skim over one of his eyebrows before resting your hand over his cheek, lightly caressing it before your hand falls to his chin.

The second your thumb brushes over his lower lip his mouth puckers, and you can't help the way you feel, what you itch to do. 

You come down to offer him a slow, little kiss to his forehead before you leave a quick one on his lips, in the end unable to resist his charm. 

You then slowly melt onto the mattress with a little sigh that morphs into a yawn.  

You hadn’t been too sleepy before, but the longer you look at him, and you watch him sleep with such ease next to you, you think that it’s a better deal to cuddle up next to him again.

#mirage x reader #mirage fanfic #Mirage fanfiction #mirage x reader insert #mirage x female reader insert #mirage x you #mirage x y/n #elliot witt x reader #apex x you #apex fanfic #apex x reader #apex #apex legends x reader

[burts-baked-bees]

im getting a bit unhinged over mirage on discord tonight lads (im the mirage pfp)

@xisum

#transformers #transformers spoilers #rotb #tf rotb #mirage #tf mirage #rotb mirage #mirage x you #mirage x me and them jeeze we ve thrusting

[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)

#transformers #suggestive text #tf fanarts #cw suggestive #rotb mirage #noah diaz #my arts #kairukitsuneOart #doodles #digital arts #what you hear vs what you see #random reader stumbled upon hearing and come to check it out #mirnoah #mirage x noah #norage #mirage #nah Im lazy to color it lmao #maccadams #dramatic mirage #arts

[mirangel]

HII RANN ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE I REQUESTED SOMETHING SOOO LIKE CAN YOU DO ALHAITHAM X HYBRID READER X KAVEH AND LIKE THE READERS IN HEAT LOLOLOL

(I suffer from an unclean mind 😂😂)

monthly heat !

cw: gn!reader, hybrid!reader, heat, slightly omegaverse-y, polyam, kavetham here and there, praise, overstim, degradation, double pounding, dumbification

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

you can’t help but drown yourself in the overwhelming feeling of your heat. you practically raided your two roommates’ closets in order to prepare for this after all, but nothing could come close to the two men’s presence themselves. you could hardly breathe, grinding yourself in your beloved architect’s silk pillow, while you bury your face into your scribe’s clothing, begging to no one in particular for them to come home quicker, for them to come home and satisfy your needs. luckily for you however, they came home earlier than they both expected, and they were greeted to a beautiful sight of you humping kaveh’s pillow, while drowning your entire senses in alhaitham’s clothes.

“my… how naughty of you, to be playing with yourself while we’re away.” alhaitham sneers, pinning himself above your needy body while kaveh moves his body next to yours, rubbing the small of your back with his slender hand, using the other hand to rest his head on his fist, a gentle smile on his face. “alhaitham dear, this poor thing’s in heat! we should take care of them, it’s our duty as their mate after all!” the blond chirps, giving a small peck on the other’s cheek before unzipping his pants, with the other following suit shortly.

kaveh is a much kinder man, who treats you like glass as he presses kisses on your body as he mumbles sweet praises into your ear. he tells you how much you fit him perfectly when he slots himself inside of you, how beautiful you look underneath him, moaning when he takes you entirely, encouraging your moans that slip out of your mouth, coaxing you to go further, “tell me what you need, dear bunny.” he coos, caressing your cheek with his hand as he thrusts himself deeper into you.

alhaitham is much rougher, who treats you like the animal you are when he brings you to your peak over and over, he’ll bring you the satisfaction you deserve, despite what his other partner says, he’ll treat you as rough as you want him to go. “my, you little slut, if i had known you’d want this sooner i could’ve fucked you as hard as you want.” he grins, prodding a sensitive spot inside you that makes your legs curl around his waist.

the two of them together are like two devils in disguise, they find ways to satisfy you in unison without even giving each other more than a single glance and a nod, their two cocks pounding your hole with delicacy and toughness in one mixed setting, their ragged breaths in your ear as they mumble and moan about how you good you feel. you can hardly think, but that’s okay, you’re content being like this. your heat may be temporary, but their love for you is eternal.

ok!! i had this marinating in my inbox for a while and unfortunately for me! i am drunk off my shit writing this so this may be poorly written i am so sorry haha

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ starry scribe ✧ #⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ moonlight mirage ✧ #⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ fading fantasy ✧ #alhaitham x reader #al haitam x reader #alhaitham smut #kaveh x you #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham x fem reader #al haitham x reader #al haitham x y/n #al haitham x you #genshin impact x female reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #kaveh x y/n #kaveh x reader #kaveh x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #alhaitham x male reader #alhaitham x female reader #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #al haitham x male reader #kaveh x male reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x male reader

[snipersfucker]

As someone new to transformer fics, I'd love a fic where Mirage and the reader learn what the others name for body parts are (hand/servo, etc.) And obviously Mirage uses it as an opportunity to put the moves on the reader.

yall are so creative with these i legit opened my mouth when i read that...... such a good idea omg lets go (im so deep in that shit i legit remember most robot names for these body parts without having to look em up lmao)

"That's a chassis."

You let out a sigh as Mirage pointed at another part of his metal body. You knew you wouldn't be able to remember all these ridiculously strange names, but still wanted to be a good student, especially because you asked him to teach you.

"Mine's a bit bigger than the ones your little boys have."

And there it was. His constant bragging, showing-off, comments that indicated he was damn aware he was better than humans.

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, not having to look up that much because he was sitting on his... aft. Or something.

"Helm, face plate, optics, pedes, tank..." He kept pointing at random body parts of his, naming them as fast as he could just to get to the most interesting ones he could use to finally rizz you up.

"'m surprised you don't have a diploma for being the best teacher ever, Mirage," you muttered under your breath shamelessly, sarcasm dripping from your tongue as you stood there with your arms crossed on your chest.

He liked the way you said his name, even if it wasn't in a particularly nice tone.

"No speaking unless you're being spoken to, miss," he reprimanded you like a strict teacher would, using his best Optimus Prime voice. Then, before you could talk back, he extended his left arm, putting it right in front of your face. He made a fist but allowed his middle finger to stay up, "What's this called?" he asked you, even though you haven't gone through this particular body part yet.

"Flipping someone off, sir," you answered in an overly eager, sweet tone, as if you were trying to sound like the teacher's pet.

You calling him sir made his spark skip a beat or two.

"Wrong." He lowered his hand and placed it on his metal thigh with a soft clang. He shook his helm in fake disappointment, letting out a long sigh. "It's a digit. And what do we do with digits?" he continued in a teacher's voice, making a specific motion with his servo to encourage you to answer his question, even though he automatically did so in his mind.

We put them inside disobedient girls.

"We flip people off, sir," you responded in a fake innocent, childish tone, straightening your back and smiling widely as if waiting for praise for giving him a good answer. It made you cringe internally but you also thought it was funny so the choice whether to continue talking like that or just leave was easy to make.

He snorted at your words, shaking his head in amusement once more as he brought his servo to your body and flicked your arm gently with his two digits.

"That's what we do with 'em."

"Oh, fuck off." You smacked his servo before he could pull it away from you. Even though you could barely feel the flick of his robot fingers, you still massaged your arm, hoping it'd make him feel at least a little bit bad, and he'd stop bullying you.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" He raised his optical ridge at your words, not being able to fight back a teasing smirk forming on his lips.

You could kiss me with that mouth.

As soon as the thought appeared in his mind, he immediately got rid of it, not letting it distract him.

"Tibulen, cadulen..." he began naming other body parts, and there was no way in hell you'd be able to remember those. "Glossa..." He stuck his metal tongue out, pointing at it lazily with his index digit.

A question popped up in your head, "You got saliva?"

For the first time, you were actually curious about something, expecting an actual, truthful response, but instead you got what Mirage was best at. Sarcasm.

"Oh, yeah, our saliva's made out of corrosive acid actually. Cool stuff." He shrugged nonchalantly as if what he just said was nothing. "Want me to spit on you so you can get the drill?" he asked overly casually, already slightly leaning in your direction.

He was having so much fun...

You grimaced at his question, even though you knew he was most likely joking. Most likely.

"Pass," you murmured under your breath.

"...But there are other ways you could... feel it."

His time to shine has come which he was very much aware of.

His unnecessarily mysterious tone made you snort quietly, an eyebrow involuntarily raised as you asked him with amusement dancing on your tongue, "Care to share?"

He tilted his head with a very, very sly smirk on his lips, which partly gave you an answer to your question. The realisation almost made your face drop but you contained yourself, and just rolled your eyes at his silent offer, pretending not to notice the heat spreading across your own cheeks.

"No."

"I didn't say anything," he responded in an amused, innocent tone, raising his servos in a defensive gesture.

"Yeah, but your eyes said a lot," you argued, the sudden shift in your confidence making you unable to find the situation as funny as before.

He made an unbelievable amount of butterflies awaken and fly around in your stomach, and as pleasant as it felt, you couldn't show him that.

"Optics," he corrected you immediately, playful superiority in his tone coming back just in time to crush you once more. He leaned in, making the gap between your faces a lot smaller than before. "And I'm pretty sure you're just imaginin' things," he added teasingly, the smirk almost challenging you.

His plan was working.

"Am I?" You tilted your head slightly to the left, your gaze never leaving his blue optics.

The intensity of your eye contact made him back off just a bit, before he shook his head in both amusement and surprise at the sudden comeback of your confidence.

"We're not done yet," he just said, which may have sounded like a warning but you felt like he was talking about something else than this game you were both playing. "I didn't show you everything," he explained, even though this lesson about his anatomy was the smallest thing occupying his mind at the moment.

You refrained yourself from frowning, feeling pretty sure that he'd already named every single body part of his possible, but you didn't want him to notice how little attention you were actually paying. So you just nodded, getting ready to hear more of that very interesting stuff.

"...Ever seen a metal dick?"

Your jaw almost dropped when your brain registered his shameless question. You couldn't even say anything to that, just unsurely shaking your head to show him that you, in fact, have never seen a metal dick.

And you thought he was about to offer to present one to you just now, but he just let out an amused noise. "Too bad."

And with these words, he transformed into a silver Porsche and drove past you towards the exit of the garage, leaving you confused, breathless, and wanting something more...

might make a part 2 for this with smut if you want

#this one is disappointing #didnt go as planned tbh #i will rewrite it someday i promise (remind me) #mirage x reader #mirage x you #mirage #mirage rotb #mirage x my pussy #transformers rotb #mirage transformers #rotb #transformers #wattpad

[yeonjune]

Soobin (left) wearing Yeonjun's (right) clothes from the day 1 soundcheck.

#moacentral #soobin #yeonjun #tomorrow x together #gifs #creations #act: sweet mirage #wabisarah #tusercelia #skyehi #useryeonbins #userzaynab #rosieblr #megtag #userbbie #usercchuu #heyiri #ultkpopnetwork #kpopccc #i wrote who's on which side in case your eyes are playing with you 😊😂 #they need to do this more often #how else would we see soobin dressed like this #q

[writeyouin]

Optimus: We should be weary of humans, they fend for their own, as do we

Mirage, already getting a little kiss on the cheek from his soon to be alien babe: Huh? Didya say sumthin?

Mirage X Reader Drabble – A Leader’s Regrets

A/N – M’kay, this technically wasn’t a request, but my ass ran with it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

As it turned out, Optimus Primal was right, and Optimus figured that he had a lot to learn about the humans who inhabited planet Earth. They had proved that in some circumstances they could be trusted, and that they could work with alien races, choosing to protect both themselves and others.

Initially, Optimus never suspected that they were capable of such compassion, however, he was glad to be proved wrong. Still, he had his reservations and wished to know more about the young race that would now aid him in keeping him and his own safe.

Yet, Optimus knew that he couldn’t trust just any human; it would be better for him to learn more about the few he had already met. He was somewhat familiar with Noah, having learned that he had put Mirage back together with whatever precious resources he could find. Optimus would have liked to learn more about Elena, but she had chosen to stay in Peru with the Maximals, studying the Ancient Ruins they had led her to. That left only you; Optimus knew very little about you, only that you had helped his and his kind, and that Mirage seemed to be quite taken with you, though that was no surprise considering that Mirage was likely to make a friend of any human, as he had with Noah upon meeting him.

Setting off, Optimus drove to a dilapidated warehouse that they were using as a temporary shelter until a better opportunity came along.

He let himself into one of the side rooms; it was the only part of the warehouse to retain its door, and Mirage had claimed it as his own. At the time, Optimus hadn’t argued, finding that young bots needed their space. Now, he regretted that descision as he walked in on you, the very person he was looking for, making out with Mirage as the bot held you up to his face.

You stopped at the sound of the door, flushing red when you saw Optimus, who hadn’t been the friendliest of bots thus far.

“Oh, um hi,” You gave an awkward half-wave.

“Yo, OP, do you mind, we’re kinda in the middle of something here,” Mirage said, placing you on his shoulder.

“Ah sorry, did you need Mirage for something, I can leave?”

“Or you know, you could stay, and he could leave. This is like, our date night, and you got all of these long-ass legs to explore.”

Optimus shook his head and walked away; he didn’t want to know anything more about you after all. That had been more than enough.

“You could’ve shut the door,” Mirage called after him with a small laugh.

You shook your head despondently, “Oh my God, I can’t believe that just happened.”

“Hey, don’t think about it. He may be Optimus Prime, but if you were an Autobot, you’d be Optimus Fine.”

Outside of the warehouse, Optimus wished he had left faster. He didn’t need to hear that either.

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #transformers #maccadam #tf #mirage #mirage x reader #mirage x you #transformers rise of the beasts #optimus prime #a leaders regrets #a leader's regrets

[sinning-23]

My Latest crush is an alien car from space

SO this is the quick 1-3part fanfic I wrote in reference to the little post I made about mirage a couple days ago! Only a couple things changed and the stuff mentioned in the post prior will come up in later parts (here's the link to that if you didn't see it)

Okay so let’s just push all the events of the movie…now lmao I use a lot of current terms that would t have been used in the 80’s so let’s just keep everything the same…accepts it’s 2020-2023 yeah? Great! Fantastic! Uhhh enjoy shawty!

(heres the link to pt2 hotties <3)

Intro/Pt.1

Hot girl summer postponed 

“How am I supposed to do hoodrat things with my friends if you won’t fix this already!” You whine, resting your hip against the side of the beat-up Porsche. The paint was chipped and scraped, the seats were old and dusty and the oils it leaked stained the garage floor and the damn hood wouldn’t close. 

In short, it was kinda shitty. And a stick shift? Who the fuck drove the stick anymore?

Your dad only dusts his hands in his pants and sighs. It’s his fault for spoiling you rotten that you’d beg for a car now, and it was also his fault for promising it in the first place. 

“First of all, there will be no hoochie mama floozy business in my house.” You roll your eyes at the outdated term and shoot back with a reply.

“That’s fine! I said hoodrat anyway!” 

He interrupts you, pinching the bridge of his nose, great hair practically springing out his head. 

“NONE of that either. Tell you what, if you can apply for two more apartments it’s yours. 

You throw your hands up.

“Dad, what?! You know I hate being alone and you’re getting old! You’re gonna need a caretaker.” You reply with a bit of sarcasm and he raised a brow and the not-so-subtle insult.

“I’m not a senior citizen y/n. Just do it.” He replies back, ending the conversation with a peck to your forehead. 

“Not with the way your knees popped earlier!” You call back as he closes the door on you. 

You groan, pushing off the car you were leaning against and tabbing the roof, an audible ‘thunk’ sounding. 

“Soon shawty, you’ll be taking me shopping and clubbing in no time.” You chide, fingers dancing on the slightly lifted hood before you exit.

And before the garage light shut off, the Porsche purred, engine smoking. 

____4 months____

It was go time. You’d applied for about 3 more apartments just to appease and overachieve for your father. And on top of that, your girls decided that it was finally time to get you absolutely shit-faced in late honor and celebration of your graduating med school! The only problem was the mode of transportation.

Most of the girls weren’t going to be able to get you and an Uber wasn’t really what you wanted considering there was a perfectly good Porsche sitting in the garage collecting dust. According to dear old dad, he’d already tried time and time again to fix the damn thing but it wasn’t budging, every screw being too tight and every wire seeming to short hit it under his touch. It seems like no use. 

“Are you serious? I kept my end of the bargain.” You groan, rolling your eyes at the inconvenience 

You’d dad shrugs, throwing the dirty, oiled-up towel over his shoulder. 

“Unless you want to try, I  suggest you find another means of transportation.” He suggests, leaving you and the busted car alone. 

You sigh heavily letting your girls know a reschedule may be on the rise. You pull your French curl braid half up with your alligator clip and lift the hood, the engine was seemingly new, and the design seared into it looked a bit creepy. After brushing your fingers over the symbol, you tighten the hood screws to test if it’d close and sure enough, the problem solved ...kinda.

 You still weren't sure this thing started up. That was the main issue. You sigh, pulling the driver seat open and plotting down, dust making you fan your face and try to blow the particles away. The same symbol from before was engraved into the wheel and you brush over it again. 

“What a funky-looking symbol. I'm sure nothing a little sparkle won't fix, looks cool tho. Like an alien car thing? Wouldn't that be so silly?” You think out loud, looking in the back seat to see a tattered bomber jacket with silver and blue. Maybe it belonged to the previous owner?

You gasp when the driver's seat scoots forward, keeping you from reaching the jacket. Your chest pressed to the wheel making the horn honk. Gasping you throw your shaky hands up and swallow hard. 

“What the fuck…” You whisper out, eyeballing the symbol once again, trying to sneakily reach for the door to make an escape. 

It locks, The radio and lights inside flashing off and on as the engine revved filling the garage with smoke and the sound of your panicked screams. 

You try and pull the door open but fail again and when the radio buzzes to life you're met with a single song. Taylor Swift was amongst the madness just moments ago.

You need to calm down

You're being too loud 

You managed to throw yourself out of the car and scatter back into the house, coughing up the smoke that had still lingered from before. What the hell was that? So maybe it was an alien car. What was meant to become of your hot girl summer? Were you doomed to figure out this possessed car on your own? Exorcise it mayhaps? You stumble up the stairs and pull out your phone. Evidence that's what you needed, evidence. 

You stumble back down the stairs, Snapchat fully functional and ready to catch any evidence, and you'd be damned if you didn't go viral without a filter. 

Swinging the garage door open you point your camera to the dormant Porche. You're more so angry that you were so scared and you were NOT about to let some poltergeist punk you in the comfort of your own home. 

“Yeahhhh motherfucker where all that noise now? HUH? Flash some lights now bitch!” You yell, feeling only slightly insane talking to the inanimate object. 

You were met with silence, circling the vehicle with the flash on. Now narration of the prior events, you try to open the driver door only for it to lock. Oh this mf was playing with you. You yell in a fit of rage, smacking the hood. 

The car revs and honks at you, the door swinging open to hit your backside, making you trip. 

“HA! I GOT YOUR ASS ON CAMERA!” You yelp, camera rolling the entire time. Your breaths are raged but soon become hollow when the car starts to……change.

Your camera hand is shaking and parts of the car begin to shift into legs…waist...torso…arms…. Breath is caught in your throat as the damn near 10 ft tall figure standing before you with its hand in a more so ‘what gives’ position. 

“You are so aggressive, lil mama! What’s the deal?” It speaks, and before you could muster a response, your eyelids shut, and your brain powers down. 

Its eyes widen at your unconscious state and it sighs. 

“All that talk and she faints. Great.” 

____________

A breeze hits your face, the sound of traffic slowing to a haunt as does whatever you’re traveling in. It’s a bit easier to breathe now, but your breath is still shallow and your head is somewhat aching. What even happened before this? You were messing with the car and it was..possessed? No no, it was. 

You shoot up, head hitting the ceiling. In a panic you try and tug at the seatbelt and escape this demon car, breath bringing to pick up again. 

The voice from before speaks over the radio 

“Whoa whoa ok calm down I’m just taking you to a friend of mine! I’ll explain everything calm down.” 

And surprisingly enough, you do just that. In hindsight, if this thing wanted to kill you it probably would have done it already. You click the seatbelt off, crawling to the front seat. You take a deep breath, manicured fingers ghosting over the wheels before finally gripping it and tracing the symbol again. 

“O-Okay. I’m terrified right now. I’m in hella far from my house I’m assuming-“ You’re cut off by the voice again. 

“You’d assume correctly.” It speaks 

You blink your hand and take another breath. Lil shit had personality. Nod in defeat. 

“So…you’re an alien…but also like…a robot? What are you? And why are you a car? And why are you BLUE?” You question, calming down enough to exit the car and wait for a response from the culprit. 

It transforms again before your eyes, and you finally have a chance to examine him more. Instead of being afraid and shocked now, you’re more so intrigued. Curiosity engulfs your mind as you ponder its biology. Sure finishing med school required you to know the human body, but the anatomy of an alien and more mecha was intriguing. 

You circle it, a newfound confidence flooding you as it tried to explain itself.  Manicured fingers can’t help but reach out and touch the smooth-looking metal, the once dusty and scraped not nonexistent over his exterior. Perhaps that was a part of its species' biology, some sort of camouflage. You trace over the license place which appeared to look like more of a tramp stamp given his current transformed state. It reads, ‘MIRAG3’ and you can't help but let your hands wander around and underneath it. It twitched at the sudden touch, arching away from where your hands had touched in protest. 

“Can you stop poking around!” It yips, shooing you back. 

You scoff rolling your eyes, still observing. This was definitely a scientific breakthrough. No wonder it’s been hidden in its car disguise, you were sure there were plenty of people that wanted to dissect and use it for maybe not-so-good reasons. 

“So, do you have a name? Is it Mirage? I can’t keep calling you it in my head, feels rude.” You question, finally taking in its full frame. 

It gasps in fake hurt, placing the back of its, hand. Against its forehead? Damn, you needed to learn its anatomy so this would be less of a guessing game. 

“Call me Mirage doll.” He flirts, jutting his fist out to seal some sort of camaraderie. 

Reluctantly accepting, your plush fist touched his metal one, the metal warmer than you initially expected. Was there more of him? Why was he purposefully blowing his cover? Maybe he was just not as well thought out as the others if there were others. 

“Here come inside you should meet everyone else, Noah can explain this better to you too,” Mirage explains, scooting your forebears into the large storage facility as your shoes drag against gravel. 

Noah? Like the one that worked at your dad's shop sometimes? Like the one that sold the car in the first place? Your brows furrow hoping that maybe it was a different Noah considering how damn big Brooklyn seemed. The chances of that were slim though with the given information. 

Sure enough, walking into the facility was that same Noah, about to speak to Mirage but paused when he realized you were there, and…not panicking? You squint, arms folded over your chest. This mf had a lot of explaining to do and fast. 

“Noahhh, wanna tell me why you sold me and my father an ALIEN AUTOMOBILE?” You tell, poking your finger to his chest as he throws his hands up in defense. Time to explain and quickly.

____________

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. Your calves are killing you due to being practically kidnapped before your outing and now your head was throbbing over how much information it just revived. According to Noah, Mr. I sell alien cars here for himself into this mess because he tried to steal Mirage out of a parking lot way back when for a quick cash grab. There was this whole fight with some bad guys? Yeah someone called Unicorn? Unicron! Right, and he was gonna like blow up the world or something but he’s gone now…temporarily-

The point is, you didn’t need aliens right now you needed a margarita and some music to shake your ass too but NONE of that was happening any time soon. 

“So, feel like your brains gonna explode?” Mirage jokes, sitting against the wall of the facility and you nod, now sort of comfortable with the idea of, we’ll him in general.

 It’s not like you weren’t into conspiracy theories and whatnot, but for something like this to ACTUALLY be real was beyond you. You sigh and run your hands down your face, more upset you missed your one night out more than anything. And it was getting late, and that early shift you picked up definitely was gonna be a no-go if you didn’t get to bed soon. 

“This had been fun truly, but I need to get back home because I actually have a job and not one that involves OUTTERSPACE CAR PEOPLE.” You groan, seeing Mirage stand and get ready to go back to his, auto mode? 

Note to self, learn the terminology sooner rather than later. 

_________

It’s about 4am when you finally make it home, the car ride silent for the most part. Mirage had decided you’d had quite enough excitement for the night and just needed a lil tote quiet, but not before teasing you a bit about missing out on your ‘hot girl hood rat’ activities. 

You sigh once he parks, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, still too high off adrenaline to sleep. Maybe now was a good time to ask about that anatomy part? Getting the car your somewhat befriended sounded like a nice suggestion until sleep creeps up on you. 

Of course, sensing your curiosity, mirage transforms and lays in front of you, resting on his stomach while he kicks his feet. 

“Whatcha thinkin' abouttt?” He asks, more sing-songy than anything. 

“I want to study you actually, your anatomy, I’m sure it’s much different to a human but similar in the important areas.” You hypothesize, seeing his eyes widen. 

“Important areas? Damn girl we just met.” He teases, making you shake your head. 

“Not what I meant- I mean inside!” You respond back as a boyish grin crawls over his gestures 

“You’ve been inside too. Wow and you didn’t even take me to dinner first!” He jokes again, more so enjoying your reaction. 

It was going to be a longggg night and looking at it, a long day too.

#x reader #reader is black #i don't care he's hot #transformers #mirage #transformers rise of the beasts #mirage transformers #it’s just #i just think hes neat #hes so hot #fine i’ll do it myself #i need him #mirage x you #mirage x reader #mirage smut #rise of the beasts #rotb mirage #tf rotb #transformers mirage #thirsty over metal men #hes just soooooo

[piebank]

Ok ok ok imagine:

Mirage secretly reading on emergency care for humans in case things get bad for Noah, so he can patch his boy up just like Noah is always patching him up because their love language is clearly reciprocation!

asjhfk that so asjhfs :U i love that so much anony

.... i imagine maybe .. he keeps little firstaid in his glove box but also for when kris is around too.

#ajshdfasdgjf i am feral about them so bad #sned me all the headcannons EVERYLAST ONE #thank you anon you make my day T-T #miroah #norage #hometeam #mirage x noah #noah x mirage #mirage #noah diaz #tf rotb #boys beein boys ya boy #asdfghj

[danddymaro]

Me Too | Mirage x Reader

The sweet floofy stuff with Elli. though, NSFW.

As this is Mirage, we will give him the ‘ol cliche of doing it in front of the mirror.

‘Cause he’s cute guys, and he needs the love. 

Plus he’s like... a momma’s boy lol. That’s cute.

Word Count: 1640

Me Too

Earlier that night you'd been at the Paradise Lounge, keeping your trickster friend company throughout the working hours until it was just you two and a few complimentary drinks that had you both just a bit too honest with each other.

You weren't drunk, neither of you was, but maybe just a bit close to tipsy, enough for you to have been the one to put a rather crazy idea out there first.

And it was enough to have him put no hesitation between your question and his answer.

It was also close enough for him to take it a step further and admit that he's fantasized about it before, that it'd come to mind so many times before, that, he’d dreamed of it too.

And it'd been only fair for you to tell him that it'd been the same for you.

Sure, you guys always flirted, but playfully.

You never went out in the open with your sex life, until then.

"- That long?" Mirage said with half amusement, half shock.

"Yes!" you said with a bit of bite, embarrassed at the way he gawked at you like it was something to really laugh at.

Annoyed, you crossed you arms and turned your nose a different direction, “So just shut up!” you added, regretting having told him.

He noted your insult and began to chuckle, seeming nervous, " Hey, Hey, calm down!" he said back.

"Don't look at me like that," he added, holding back from shrinking under your darkened gaze.

“I just can’t believe it,” he admitted. 

  "- If it makes you feel better... it's been a while for me too," he confessed.

And that innocent little conversation had led to you following him back to his place, both of you enthusiastic, sneaking in like two devious kids up to no good.

Even if there was no one home, you followed behind him as he tugged you along, laughing when he almost tripped over his own footing, very clearly excited.

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

- It’s weird.

Anything new would sometimes be strange, but this, this new thing was definitely something you would have never thought to do, even alone.

It wasn't as though it was some taboo act, but even then, watching yourself in such a state was awkward.

Well, at first it was, because slowly, you eased into the act.

' I mean... it IS weird,' You tell yourself.

 'But... but hot too, ' you think quickly, correcting yourself while your (e/c) colored eyes cannot help but slowly trail over the reflection before you, stopping at the alluring sight with half-lidded eyes that had slowly fallen from their initial wide-eyed setting.

You'd wanted to look away at first, but there was something about you being on display, handled by such a beautiful man that had you attentive, unable to look away to where slowly, your shame dwindled into nonexistence. 

Before then, the first thing you'd seen was your own eyes. 

That's what you found focus on first to try and collect yourself, unprepared for how easily you'd slip into the act.

 They'd been teary and wide-eyed in the beginning , seeming utterly shamed while the rest of you seemed to have no trace of dignity, no shamefulness that forces you to whither nor shy away.

Almost dumbly, you stare before you, bewitched by the beautiful man that also watches while the rest of his body gives you its attention.

Dark eyes sweet as the cocoa with a touch of light crème give their attention that is touched by so much sweetness your heart flutters. 

There's something especially lovely about him at that point which should be nothing but sensual heat. 

In the midst of that moment, there is a charming touch that makes you feel adored. 

It makes you feel beautiful.

And you have to remind yourself that this isn't something between two lovers, two people that have confessed their feelings as something other than simple lust. 

-  It's just that... right?

You try and keep the wings that have sprouted from your beating heart  weighed down enough so it doesn't soar to high, so it doesn’t start to believe in something that wasn’t there.

‘We’re just...fucking.’ You remind yourself, and briefly you think to yourself that what little alcohol had, had you giddy hadn’t lasted.

Perhaps that's what Elliot feels for you ; lust. 

  Maybe that’s what it is, even if his eyes say something else as they stare back at you through the reflection.

Maybe  that's all he really feels even as his chest  firmly presses against your back, making your hearts neighbors, at certain points sharing the same beat as though they speak the same language known only to them.

You know you are on the verge of tears, the thin sheet of moisture gathering so thickly as you bring your eyes so close that little drops threaten to drip down from them.

Meanwhile, You huff out, your hips bucking with each little jolt his fingers force you to act out as he presses them down over your sensitive bud. All the while, he continues to thrust into you from behind, his pace a slow, sensual roll that surprises you with every other deep, abrupt thrust that earns him squealed-out curses that are then proceeded by his name.

Something in you feels like too much, and urgency fills you. 

Your voice, even in its softest breath fails you, leaving you with a little hiccup that was supposed to be a call to him.

Overwhelmed, you do the only thing you can, your hips wiggling desperately, and he seems to get the message, picking up his own pace. His wet digits also change it up, leaving you tilting your head back, your eyes rolling up before they closed tightly.

one of your hand's skim over your chest, the act you are used to done out of instinct. Your hand normally clutches your shirt, but instead, it just hovers over your chest, not doing anything but being suspended as your body breaks out in little shivers.

Your hand is empty before warmth falls over it, encasing it. 

His free hand has yours held, and he manages to worm his fingers in between the spaces yours leaves for him. 

It's a touch of sugar and spice as he still pleases you, fucking you passionately while the hand that holds you comes up to his lips, the bare underside of your palm kissed tenderly.

It is then that those damned tears that you've held in and have clung to your lashes finally fall. 

Silently, they escape and so does his name in a breath that's terribly sweet, undeniably marked by the feeling of adoration you feel for him. 

You become undone, the little murmurs that leave you after you've become a mess are indecipherable. For the most part they're not something he understands but listens to attentively nonetheless, focused enough that he captures two that make his heart jump.

Without warning, your back is then pressed to the mattress, and Elliot’s hands hold your wrists down as he hovers over you, looking down at you with those pretty, dark eyes that have you melting.

 Even if the entire time he's been staring at you through the reflection, it's then when you are right before him, face to face that you feel completely vulnerable.

Your face is heated, and you want to hide. You have an urgency to as you turn away, looking aside. 

His reaction is to smile, the charming grin coming in view as he leans down and gives you a little peck on the cheek you present him.

Your eyes move over to him and you bite your lip as you give him that shrinking look that only makes him want to kiss you more. 

Another peck falls on your cheek, but it's lower than the first, grazing the corner of your mouth, luring you back to him. 

Slowly, you turn back to him, and you respond to the kiss that follows. 

Your lips melt together, and you close your eyes to savor it, focusing on the feeling of his soft lips, the smell of his delicious aroma, and the taste of his undeniable sweetness.

You hardly notice that he lets go, the grip on your wrists gone, and before long those big hands fall onto your cheeks as he smothers you into an especially deep one, one that has you completely breathless.

He withdraws, and his lips are inches from yours, his pretty eyes gazing into yours as he responds to your earlier confession, 

 "... I love you too..." he says. 

He only has the nerve to admit it at that very moment, only after knowing your feelings.

He knows he talks a lot sometimes, going on and on.

- About work, about his day, 

…About his mom.

He's well aware that it can get annoying having to answer him at such inconvenient times, especially after he talks to the elder woman and his voice is unfamiliar to her.

Even if he’s thankful every time she comes to,  he knows that one day he’ll remain a stranger.

- And it’s then that he can only think of you, the one person that manages to lift the corners of his mouth up. 

Somehow, you mange to make him smile through the tears. 

Gently, he wipes them away as a little chuckle escapes him, and sometimes he gathers the courage to ask you what you’re doing, and if you have time to see him.

He knows that you have so many other options, other people that would jump at the chance to be with you.  

-  He kisses you with that love he’s held silent, and you respond back with it too.

#Mirage fanfiction #mirage fanfic #apex mirage #apex mirage x reader #mirage x reader #mirage x reader insert #mirage x you #mirage x y/n #elliott witt x reader #elliot witt x reader insert #apex x reader #apex oneshots #Apex Legends #apex #apex legends x reader #apex legends x y/n #apex legends x reader insert #mirage #mirage one shot #mirage oneshot #apex fanfiction #apex fanfic

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Ghosts & Mirages (18+ Fanfic Masterlist)

Summary: An Ongoing fanfic Series of Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley and Sargeant Codename "Mirage" (The f!reader. This is your OC, I made reader INCREDIBLY detail inclusive. Imagine yourself however you want!)

Render Artwork: @ave661

Warning: Nearly each and every chapter contains HEAVY, HEAVY themes involved, ranging from dark to light topics, Will contain warnings for each part, as some contain more than one chapter, please beware!

Warnings Vary: From Smut, Gore/Violence, Fluff, and Dark Themes-MOSTLY MENTIONS (Ex: self harm)

Part 1- Now You Seen 'Em, Now You Don't

Part 2- Consequences

Part 3- Clouded Conscience

Part 4- The Switch

Part 5- Cherished Spirits

Part 6- Angel of Small Death

Part 7- La Dama Sin Cara

Part 8- Las Illusiones

Here is an incredibly tasteful audio collab, based off ‘Clouded Conscience’, with the Incredible Badjhur himself!!

PLEASE READ: I am not posing/or a fake acc. I am the MAIN author for this series. PLEASE read here for more info. <3

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern #cod x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghosts & mirages #simon riley x reader smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x female reader #soap mw2 #soap mctavish #john price #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #rodolfo parra #alejandro vargas #philip graves #valeria garza #call of duty