#gentle monster optical

[spideyhina236]

Freen🥺🥰💕 I love her 🥰

[srh-prs]

[yandere-wishes]

Hi!!

I have a question... what do you think sentinels prime punshiments would look like? :3 what would be the worst one?

｡˚ ❀ ˚｡ He's so evil and sadistic...so why do I love him so much?!?!

𝄞 Real Men by Mitski

❀ The Icon of Iacon

❀ He loves the rogue sparks that fly inches from his face as he burns or rather "engraves" you. Sentinel uses his torch to engrave his name (Or rather a pretty cursive signature) somewhere on his darling's chassis. Similar to what he did to Megatron. He'll trail his digits over the resplendent scar later on. Making sure he feels every dip and curve of his name across her armor. Every shiver and shutter that runs ramped through his beloved darling's frame.

❀ Sentinel Prime isn't a gentle bot. He prefers to not see himself as barbaric just determined, steadfast. That's why he plucks the tires from his darling's body, not because he's cruel but because he'll do anything to keep her by his side. Although it's hard to find an excuse for how he relishes in the warm energon that coats his digits as he thrusts them into her open lacerations. Hard to find the right words when he's trailing open-mouthed kisses between gaping iron and savoring her ethereal taste as he eagerly licks her gushing wounds. Not cruel, no immoral...just in love.

❀ Her alt mode is rendered utterly useless. Pretty shiny thing that can't move. It leaves his darling ruined emotionally. She can't bear the state she's in. The grotesque useless thing she now has to transform into...

❀ So Sentinel rips out her T-cog. He does it to preserve her mental state, he swears. Does it so she won't have to turn into the form she's come to despise so wholeheartedly...And maybe if he's allowed a moment of selfishness he'll confuse in hushed tone whispers that he may have also done it to prevent her from running away.

❀ Although the procedure entirely depends on how his darling behaves. If she's sweet and docile, only ever trying to escape from his golden grasp. Then he'll take pity on her and permit her to remain unconscious through the whole thing, he's only doing this for her after all, he doesn't want her to suffer but it's necessary to keep her safe. Things are always "necessary" with him.

❀ However if his darling is feisty headstrong and constantly putting up a fight, a constant threat, metallic rose throne at his side, daring even to try and harm him. Then he'll definitely rip her T-cog straight from her chest, making sure she feels each wire snap, the grotesque unnatural expansion of her metallic chest. The rigorous pop of your diodes. The gory crunch of circuits snapping, forced to release the precious organ. He wants her withering in the pain. Looking into his optics and finally understanding that he owns her.

❀ The thing about a bot like Sentinel is that they can so easily look in a mirror and only see justice and golden paragons. Blood-soaked rhyme and reason that always ends with them draped in innocence relishing in the thing they want most. Bots like Sentinel, bots whose deific power ripples through every vein of a planet. Can never be painted as monsters, as wretched. They have too much authority and excuses to be anything but wholly perfect.

❀ You'd been so used to internal pain. The righteous crack of sparks, blunt anxiety cascading through your circuits. Maybe it's cause there isn't much that can harm a Cybertronian, not much that dents and rips celestial steel. But with him, everything is outwards. The churn of a nervous stomach is nothing compared to the rippling agony of a broken leg. Sentinel rips the pain from your metallic viscera, baths you in your own ichor, bedaubs you in pain as he calls you his "sweet little lover".

❀ "I hope Primus sends you straight to Unicron!" You can't help but scream between tears and traumatized sobs. You straighten your spine, knees folded to your chest. Your energon pools beneath you, pouring from his latest mauling. Open-ended wires spark as they make contact with your blue essence.

❀ Sentinel only chuckles, sky-hued optics playfully darting to the ground. 'Dear Primus, I don't believe in you'... but all he offers his darling is a sweet sugar-laced smile and a saccharine peck on the cheek.

❀ Sentinel will never admit it, it's hard to show such benignity when you rule an entire planet, but maybe -just maybe- at the end of the cycle his favorite misery to besiege upon you, is when he grips your chin or cheek and tugs you towards his lips. Savouring your ethereal taste. When he guides your servos to his chassis, pulling you closer till both are one. When he can just hold and kiss you. Just be with you. A romantic scene framed eternally by Cyerbtron's setting sun.

❀ If you close your optics, you can almost pretend to be in love...

[revelboo]

Invisible Monsters Pt 2

Lost Light Megatron x Reader-forgiveness

• One arm still cradling the empty cube, the other stretched out over the bar so his cheek can lay on it, you’re caught in a mix of pity for Trailbreaker and indignant anger that Swerve had just kept serving him. You hadn’t known what to make of the fact that they could get drunk or that Swerve and Whirl both find drunk Trailbreaker hilarious. Most of the time. They’d both lost interest as soon as he made the inevitable buzzed slide to depressed muttering. You’d watched the whole mortifying show with the same horrified fascination usually reserved for truly awful train wrecks.

• And at some point, Whirl had ditched you. Leaving you with Trailbreaker since there’s no way to get off the bar top Whirl had plopped you on without a broken neck. The big mech’s been silent long enough that you think he might finally be recharging, but you still keep well out of his reach.

• Neck craning to stare at Swerve on the other side of the bar, you wait for him to remember you’re still trapped. Because the only way to get to him is by climbing over Trailbreaker’s arm and hoping you don’t get swatted in his drunken stupor. No thank you.

• You’re relieved as soon as you spot Rodimus entering the bar and you lift an arm to get his attention. That grin as his optics light on you makes your stomach drop, though. You know that look. Sure enough, the red and orange mech was looking for you. Probably for something you’re not going to like. A certainty that grows with icy dread as he comes over, reaching for you.

• For a heartbeat, you tense and seriously consider taking your chances with the passed out drunk. Shoulders slumping, you allow the co-captain to scoop you up. “There you are,” he says, voice cheerful which set off all sorts of alarm bells. And then he’s walking with you trapped in his servos.

• “I’m not going to like whatever this is, am I?” You ask, clinging to his servos as his quick stride almost makes you fall. A grin is your only answer and you groan. It’s going to be bad. Definitely bad.

• As soon as you spot the massive, intimidating form of Megatron on the bridge, you wilt. Especially as Rodimus heads right for him with a cheery, “Hold this for me,” and thrusts you at the huge mech. Heart nearly stopping as Megatron instinctively reaches to catch you as you fall a foot or so into his hands with a yelp.

• Surprised to say the least, Megatron cups his hands around the tiny form that’s just been dumped into his hands. “Rodimus,” he growls, as the human glares at the younger mech.

• Backing away toward the door of the bridge so Megatron can’t try and give you back, he folds his hands behind his back. “Remember that asteroid field I piloted us through?”

• “The one I specifically said not to fly through?” Megatron asks, servos starting to curl into fists when a little hand lands on one. Startled, he glances down at you in his palm and forces himself to relax before turning his attention back on Rodimus. “Yes. I remember.”

• “Oh, good. Great,” Rodimus’s optics dart to you in Megatron’s hands. “So on a completely unrelated note, apparently one of the engines is now inoperable. Gotta go.”

• And he bails, leaving you in the former warlord’s hands. That jerk. “Seriously?” You growl, anger faltering as Megatron looks at you. And sure, he’s been gentle with you so far, but he’s huge and Whirl’s told you stories. Horrific, traumatizing stories that don’t quite mesh up with what little you’ve seen of him so far. This mech isn’t some bloodthirsty monster. He’s just a perpetually exhausted adult having to deal with nonstop stupidity. And he is tired if the way he vents with a soft growl is any indication.

• Casting about, Megatron isn’t sure what to do with you now. Set you down and let you wander the halls or just wait until Rung or someone else remembers to look for you? Anything but hold you in his palms as you look up at him with wariness, but not hate. You should despise him for what he’s done to your kind and your world. So why don’t you?

• Seeming to resign yourself to being stuck with him, you curl your legs up under you. Make yourself comfortable in his grip. “He looks up to you, you know.” The soft words surprise him as he frowns down at you in his hand before heading to his chair. It feels almost blasphemous to cradle your warm, little body and feel the steady beat of your heart against his servos. Something soft that was never meant for him.

• “Hardly,” he says, tensing as you jump lightly from his palm onto the arm of the chair to look around. “They’re all afraid of me.” Like you should be. Such a fragile thing, you shouldn’t fearlessly meet his optics. The almost sympathetic, wry twist of your smile as you spread your arms and walk to the edge of the flat surface, cuts him.

• “Everyone makes mistakes,” you tell him, head tipped up to study the empty vastness of space. Huffing softly, he sinks back in his chair. You dare sum up all the wrongness as just a mistake? He can’t understand how easily you can forgive and move on, but maybe, short lived creatures have to be able to let go because of just how short their lives are. Maybe they can’t afford to cling to old grudges. Or maybe it’s just you in particular.

Previous Next

[t-a-a-1]

The Misfortunes of Honor

Summary: While being under Megatron’s mind control, Optimus was obliged to interface with you. An act he wished he had done in more complimentary circumstances. Although Optimus loves you, the aftermath of the act made the two of you become distant, making you wonder if it's time to leave Prime’s side.

A/N: 2k words. Angst, suggestive content, fluff, after glow, sexy stuff, etc.

It was too late when he came to his senses.

Although he was able to break free from Megatron’s mind control, his honor had already been tainted. Not like it was ever pure. There was too much energon on his servos to say otherwise and hypocrisy did not become him. 

But you? 

He had made many mistakes. Many of them are unforgivable. This is one of them. 

Optimus can’t look at you. Too much shame and embarrassment, yet he has to hold you in his servos. You had told him that you were hurt and unable to walk. He can tell by  the bruises in your body that you were telling the truth. Not like he didn’t believe you in the first place but they served as a reminder of the horrible acts he had committed. 

It’s not like he didn’t want to do it. In fact, he had dreamt of becoming one with you many, many times before. He craved and yearned for the day he would confess his undying love for you. 

Megatron had taken that from him. Now, he can no longer fantasize about that day. Nor longer think what your first time with him could’ve been. He is unworthy of it. Of you. Although the act had already happened … he refuses to remember such an act. Primal. Without an ounce of love in it. 

“Did it hurt?”

Optimus asks you as he enters his private quarters. No one in the hangar dared to interrupt the two of you. After tonight’s event, it was obvious that the two of you needed time alone. 

“At first but I got used to it after a while,” you say as he places you on the elevated floor where you are able to see him face to faceplate. 

You weren’t a stranger to Optimus' room. He had even put a coach for you to be comfortable. In exchange you put some flowers around and made the place look more lively. 

“(Y/N), I – I don’t know how I could ever ask you to forgive me.”

“You don’t have to. You were under Megatron’s mind control,” you have difficulty looking at his optics. Everytime you look at them, you are reminded of how much craving they had a few hours ago.  “It was the only choice.”

“Did you … Find it pleasurable?” He is usually good with words. But all sense of reason is lost whenever he talks to you. His speech becomes sparkling-like.   “Since it was your first time interfacing and well, I am unable to remember much. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t too painful for you.”

“I am not sure I can describe it. It was rough and fierce but also passionate and I think a part of you was trying to be gentle. As much as you could.”

In a conversation you two had before, you had confessed that you had never interfaced with a human before. Although you were a healthy and attractive adult individual, you found it difficult to connect with others in such a way. It wasn’t that you didn’t have opportunities before but you were uninterested or scared of the act. 

Optimus began to wonder … If you didn’t want to do it with a human, would you even want to have intimacy with a Cybertronian? He feels like an idiot. You must find him repulsive. Unattractive. A monster. Even more now that he had taken something so precious to you.

“I have tainted your honor and I would like to take responsibility if you wish me to,”

“You tainted nothing,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Optimus, not having sex or having sex doesn’t make you a better or worse person.” 

Your heart was beating too fast, almost coming out of your chest. Hoping that Optimus won’t notice it, you grab on to your arms tightly, it will probably leave marks.

“I am glad that it was with you,” you say as Optimus distances from you, walking around the elevated floor but not too far. “Even if it was in strange circumstances. I am fine, really.”

“But I am not fine with it,” he raises his voice. Although he is trying his best to show sanity, the more he remembers the act, the more his vexation. “All of this time. Ever since I met you, all I wanted was to have a bond with you. A genuine, pure connection and Megatron took that from me. He took my home, my friends, my life and he took you.”

There wasn’t a lot of light in his private quarters. Just the light emitting from his large data-screen. His optics were also a beautiful source of illumination. Most of the time they would be comforting but his evident anger made you question yourself.

“Optimus, is ok, really,” you remember his face plate during the act. He looked almost animalistic, unable to get enough but he looked to be enjoying himself. But now you questioned it. Maybe it was your imagination playing tricks.  “Unless … Did you find our interfacing … repulsive?”

“By Primus, no,” Optimus walks back towards you, for a moment he regrets speaking without any concerns about your feelings. “It’s just that I wished we had done so in more favorable terms.”

“Favorable terms?”

“In circumstances more worthy of you,” as he spoke, his processor began to put pictures in his mind. Of all the times he fantasized about you and him. Finally together with a peaceful life. Enjoying the beauty of a tranquil Earth and a rebuilt Cybertron. He thought of the many sparklings he would have and how they would look. Their names, both human and Cybertronian. And you of course,you next to him for as long as the universe allows you to.

 “In perfect conditions, we would have interfaced after concluding the Conjunx Ritus. Then we could had spark-bonded and I would have made you mine each night after that.”

Optimus took a moment to look at you, clear confusion on your face.

“Hypothetically speaking of course,” he quickly corrected himself.  “Only if there were mutual feelings.”

“And how do you feel?” you ask him. “About me?”

His spark was beating at a frequency unknown to him. But his spark and processor were not connected by the same circuit. What his spark wanted to say could not be pronounced and his processor spoke what little sanity he had while talking to you. 

“I think … You are … adequate?”

“I see,” His words offended you and you abruptly turned around, showing your back to him.  “I am sorry I can’t be better for you. Kinda stupid on my side to believe I could ever be.”

“No,no, that’s not what I mean. I–”

His words had come to a stop as he noticed a blue liquid. Such liquid ran down from your skirt, making its way down your right leg. 

Optimus had filled you with his transmission fluid, you felt the warm liquid run down your thigh. You touch it with your fingers only to confirm your suspicions. 

“Is it possible for a human and a Cybertronian to have a child?”

“I pray to Primus that’s the case.”

“What?”

Wanting to make sure you heard right, you turn to look at him. 

“I mean, I am not certain but if that would be the case then I’ll take full responsibility. I’ll take you as my Conjunx Endura and raise our sparkling together,” he hoped his voice didn’t sound too provoking,, he didn’t scare you with his excitement. 

“If that’s what you wish, of course.”

A few seconds of silence passed in which all Optimus’s processor could think of  were begging words.

“Say yes, say yes, say yes. Please. Please.”

On the other hand, you weren’t entirely sure what he meant as he used vocabulary unknown to you. You were also more concentrated on looking for something to clean yourself with. 

“I don’t know, I-”

“What is a Conjunx Endura? What if it means pet?”

“Only in the case you are with a sparkling! I wouldn’t dare to think of spending an eternity with you otherwise.”

He lies, that’s actually the only thing he thinks about. 

“Alright, Prime, you already said you find me disgusting. You don’t have to put any more salt on the wound.”

“Salt? What wound?”

It was frustrating to you, thinking he is cute when he blinks like that.As much as you would like to be angry with him for the continuous insulting. 

“Whatever. Look, everything is fine. I’ll be fine. I am tired. My body is pretty beat up so I think I’ll go rest now,” you look down at your bare legs. Still, the fluids slowly make their way down.  Feeling swollen and full, you knew you had to take a bath and clean yourself up. “Thank you for the experience, Prime. It was very significant.” 

Walking slowly, you made your way to the stairs. He didn’t want to let the conversation end like this. He panics at the bare thought of you being displeased and him being the cause of it. 

“I am sorry,” he stops you and gets your full attention. “It’s just that whenever I am in your presence, my processor seems to stop working.”

“... Am I that bad?”

Moving his helm from side to side, he can’t find words. He is usually eloquent and well spoken but all his being short-circuits. He can’t do it. As much as his spark begs him to confess, he rationally tells him to do otherwise. 

“No, it’s just—”

“Optimus, we have an issue.”

It was Ratchet’s voice, calling him through his Comm-Link. He ex-vents, he presses the button close to his helm and speaks loudly.

“I’ll be there soon.”

He doesn’t know how to make you stay. The more he looks at you, the more he is silent. His pedes are almost giving up. 

Optimus takes a closer look at you. Your breathing had changed, it has become slower. A few sweat drops run down from your face, your clothes were wrinkled. He is surprised he didn’t tear them off your body before. And your hair was a bit of a mess.

Your lips were red and swollen, probably too tired of kissing his dermas. To say you were intoxicating was an understatement as your smell combined with his had become his favorite aroma. 

He curses the gods … He can’t remember much but just flashbacks. Optimus wonders if he was able to make you moan his name, our of pleasure, out of pure ecstasy and bliss–

“Don’t you have to go?”

You break his trance. 

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

“I’ll try.”

He walks away. Unknown to you, he began to fantasize again. Praying to Primus of the impossible. With the small hope that when he comes back, he will find you on his berth. Ready to be taken by him once again.

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A/N: Sorry for any grammar and spelling mistakes. And for being unable to tag you :( I tried to write this to the best of my possibilities since I didn’t understand much of the prompt. Still, I am very thankful to anon for giving me my first story request! Inbox are always open for any ideas <3

Sorry if this isn’t exactly what you expected but I am new to the Transformer fandom so I am still not comfortable enough writing smut since I don’t think I know much of the lore and terminology for it. 

Also!

I want to state that I don’t write p0rn. But I do write erotica which is a more artistic way to write s3x. So don’t expect me to write hard core stuff, it’s just not really on my brand. Not saying one is better than the other, btw. It’s just a writing preference. BUT I can definitely write hotter stuff if needed lol. 

Anyways, thank you so much for the rest and the support! I am very thankful for every comment, like and reblog. 

See you y'all in the next story!

-taa1

[monstersbride]

Nana Komatsu for Gentle Monster 2024 optical collection ‘Gentle High School’

[mychlapci]

Unrelated to the mer Ratchet thing going on-

Thinking about Pharma being in charge of a mer Tarn. That thing is constantly trying to get his attention, performing courting dances for him- Pharma really couldn't care less. He's only here because any other vet they've tried to assign to this monster has come back with limbs shredded or missing

At some point his curiosity gets the better of him though. Maybe he wants to know what happens if he gives the creature what it wants for once.

It turns out he quite likes it. He likes how this massive and powerful creature turns to putty in his servos the moment so much as touches it. He had only planned to touch it a little, maybe jack it off if he felt so inclined. But he ends up spiking the creature. It was being so inviting. The power he has over it so intoxicating.

That's it though. That's all he was interested in. Having mated once now, Tarn's advances are even more forward. Pharma thinks it's funny. The poor animal probably thinks they're mated now. Hah. As if he would let that happen.

What he doesn't realise is that he had timed that terribly. Their little tryst happened just as Tarn hit the peak of his cycle. One shot of Pharma's transfluid was enough to knock Tarn up with a clutch of eggs. And Pharma finds out the hard way.

See, he had no reason to ever check if Tarn was carrying. Why would he be carrying. He was in a solitary tank and had no contact with other mers for breeding.

By the time Pharma finds out what he had done, it's when Tarn suddenly drags him into the water one evening.

He was careless. He stood a little too close to the water's edge. The creature was usually... polite. It would dance, call to him, but never touch unless Pharma let it. He had let his guard down and had paid dearly for it. The creature's talons wrapped around his ankle and dragged him in

He splutters and flails and kicks- but Tarn has always been strong. It had never used its full strength on him before. He's powerless. He can hardly move as he's pressed back against the walls of the tank

Pharma's focus immediately snaps downwards when he feels a nudge against his modesty panels. If the panic hadn't hit him yet, it certainly has now. Tarn's massive spike strokes against his panels, biolights pulsing along the thick shaft.

The jet struggles again with renewed vigour. He is NOT going to be deactivated by being split in half on a monster's spike!!!

But that's when he realises, despite the less than gentle invitation into the water, the great brute does not, in fact, start tearing into his panels and destroying him. Tarn desperately grinds against his panels but doesn't force anything out of him. Even with the low growls and piercing optics, Pharma finds he has not been harmed.

....alright, mayhe this wasn't as bad as he thought. It's kind of cute, actually. Hesitantly, he brings a servo to caress the creature's spike, wings daring to do a little pleased bounce when he hears the deep rumble from the creature's engines.

Tarn claws at Pharma's panels again, albeit gently. The urgency is clear. Pharma doesn't know why the desperation, but... why not. It seems safe enough, right?

He finally let's his panels click open, shuddering as the cold water hits his array.

Tarn immediately looks so excited, fins and barbs flaring for a second before it grabs onto Pharma's waist, positioning itself at Pharma's valve- but he quickly slaps the creature away. If Tarn wants this, then it will Wait. There is no way he is letting that spike into him without stretching himself out first. He doesn't want to die today.

It's intoxicating, actually, watching that powerful creature squirm and whimper in waiting. It's cute. Every time Pharma pulls his fingers out of himself, Tarn is always ready to pounce- before dejectedly backing off again when it realises that Pharma still wants to stretch himself with yet another finger.

4 whole fingers later- 4 fingers too many if you ask Tarn- Pharma finally signals for Tarn to come closer. He grins as he lets the creature position itself, and then slowly sinks himself down onto it's thick spike.

Pharma hisses at the stretch. Just the head poking into his valve and he already feels his calipers being pushed to their limits. And Tarn, for all its monstrous qualities, does a pretty good job of keeping itself still. It looks like it's suffering sure, and whimpering, but it's being good.

It's a slow and almost painful journey to get that whole shaft inside Pharma. By the time his hips are finally flush against the mer, he's panting and drooling from the pressure. He's certainly not ready for what happens when the mer begins to move.

He sees stars, he thinks. His optics white out and he feels like he's being ripped apart- and yet somehow in a good way. He clings to the creature, mumbling, babbling, hoping it would know he was encouraging it to keep going. He's impressed by how slowly it fucks him, as if truly understanding it could break him if it so much as thrusted too hard. But eventually he's had enough- he can take it- and he starts grinding his own hips down at a feverish pace.

The creature let's out a low growl thay rumbles through his struts. It's grip on him tightens, talons nearly piercing his armour. He can feel it's movements stuttering, it's swollen spike twitching inside him

The overload blows his sensors out temporarily. His optics blank out and he doesn't even hear himself scream until his audials reboot a few seconds later. His valve cycles and clenches, though barely able to move at all around the girth buried deep inside him

He feels the hot spurts of transfluid shoot straight into his gestation tank and he shudders. There. They're done now. That was fun but he really should be going- But the spurts don't stop.

Tarn, still pressed up against him, let's out another low groan, his spike twitching in Pharma's valve, unloading spurt after spurt of hot fluid.

And then it's not fluid anymore.

Pharma cries out as he feels his already stretched valve get forced outwards even more. Something pushes into him, seemingly through Tarn's spike, making his whole frame tense and spark in pain and pleasure, before plopping into his gestation tank.

Pharma stares at Tarn in horror, but the creature just stares back in what must be adoration. It lets out another shaky exvent and Pharma feels it again- a stretch and then something filling him up.

Pharma tries to push away, to kick, but his strength is nothing compared to the monster's. It just holds him, engine purring, as it does it again. The stretch feels pretty good now. Despite his protests, Pharma moans as his calipers are pushed further apart and his gestation tank gets even fuller.

By the fourth intrusion in his forge, making him feel so full, so stuffed- it finally clicks. It can't be transfluid. The only thing that those could be were eggs. There's another wave of panic, Pharma suddenly realising he's being stuffed full off the creature's spawn.

It's useless, though. Another egg is laid into him and Pharma groans at the stretch. He shouldn't want this- but by the time there are 6 eggs in him, his tank full and heavy, he's already close to a second overload. It's difficult to remember he should be worried when the 7th egg going in makes him scream and cum around Tarn's spike.

By the time he crawls out of the water an hour later, he's so tired. His frame feels wrecked. He feels so. Heavy. He groans as he places a servo on his torso. How was he to guess Tarn would be pregnant. And how was he ever to know mers passed their eggs on to their sire.

Ouh We just keep making Pharma fuck up... Teasing such a big mer really wasn't a good idea. I love that mer Tarn is just hopelessly in love with Pharma... he already feels bonded to the little land mech, and would do anything to protect him. And to keep him with him. Putting his eggs inside of him is his one grand act of love... those are their offspring <3 they made those together <33

Pharma, meanwhile is horrified and has no idea how he'll be able to explain this...

[monotonesmile]

Acceptance

Blitzwing X GN!Cybertronian!Reader

Part 2 of Trapped!

———————————————————————

They’ve been wandering this labyrinth for cycles now, they’ve both grown tired, and Blitzwing’s injury is not getting any better. They’ve been slowly walking behind him, low on energon themself, they groan, rubbing their optics as the tiredness weighs down on them.

“Keep up, don’t fall behind or I’m leaving you behind.” Blitzwing mutters, his voice low with exhaustion as he walks ahead of them. His injured wing has old crusted energon on it, at least the bleeding has stopped for now.

They grunt in response, stumbling slightly. They’re exhausted, stopping as they lean against the wall of the cavern they’re walking through, their chest heaving as their vision blurs slightly. Blitzwing takes notice, slowing his walk to a halt as he looks back at them, the blue faceplate of the calmest personality staring down at them.

“Are you about to pass out right now? Because if you are, I’m not carrying you.” Even then, he does approach them, crouching down to check on them as he grabs their face with a surprisingly gentle hand. His face scrunches as he notices their dazed look, he grumbles to himself as he grabs them, picking them up as he stands, carrying them in his arms now.

They blink in surprise, their optics widening as they are suddenly picked up in a bridal carry, they look up at him in surprise, to which he only rolls his optic as he continues to walk through the cavern. They’re too exhausted to form a response so they just settle in his arms as he carries them, they are thankful that they don’t have to walk anymore though but they are surprised that he’d even bother carrying them after saying he’d just leave them if they couldn’t keep up.

“I wasn’t actually going to leave you behind, I’d get chewed out by Megatron if I did…” Blitzwing mutters, trying to find a reason on why he went back on his words as he carries them but there is an underlying emotion in his voice that they can’t pinpoint. They nod silently, accepting his answer despite their suspicions, leaning their helm against his chest, listening to his spark as they settle into a calm silence, the only sound being Blitzwing’s heavy pedesteps as he walks through the echoing cavern.

Over the course of a few minutes, they slowly doze off in his arms, the exhaustion they feel taking them over as their optics shut, shutting down into a recharge cycle. Blitzwing glances down at the, noticing their sleeping form, he huffs as he looks back up, a ghost of a smile on his faceplate, he can’t believe he’s gotten this comfortable with another bot but he does appreciate their company, they don’t seem to ever look at him like he’s a monster or an abomination like many others do…they just see him as himself, they don’t ever seem to flinch when his personality changes, they just adapt. He actually likes being around them.

"I'm not going to leave you. You're never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise." Blitzwing mutters to himself as he continues to walk while carrying their sleeping form in his arms while he continues to walk through this ongoing labyrinth of a cave system.

[gxr25256]

The Reunion - Overlord x reader (4)

🌵 Story belongs to PotatooftheLand (they deleted the work and I'm really sad).

🌵 I just rewrote the story according to what I remember reading and according to my imagination.

🌵 Enjoy reading!

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

The air around him is thick with the scent of spilled energon and burnt metal, hanging over the lifeless forms like a heavy cloud. But that’s not what stills his servos, bringing the warmth he’d long forsaken back into his frozen, fractured spark. No, it’s the voice—your voice—cutting through the silence. A voice so familiar, it slips through the cracks in his armor, slips into the darkest corners of his mind where your memory has been imprisoned for so long.

“That’s enough.”

It's a gentle command, but one that halts his every movement, every thought. He knows it could only belong to one being—the only one whose approval could tame the wild beast that lurks within him.

He drops the broken body of his latest victim to the ground without a second thought, forgetting the rush of the kill, the dark satisfaction it brings him. Instead, his optics flicker with a strange light, something almost soft in its glow. He takes a step closer, drinking in the sight of you. It’s been so long. So many vorns, countless oceans of absence between you, years spent searching, reaching, hoping against hope that you might return to him.

"Sweetspark," he purrs, his voice dripping with relief, like a predator that’s finally cornered its prey. He takes another step forward, emboldened by your presence, his optics alight with a twisted, possessive glee. "There you are."

You remain still, barely a flicker of emotion in your gaze. But he notices, as he always does, the way your shoulders stiffen, the slight trembling in your frame. You’re trying so hard to stay firm, to stay strong, even as he invades your space, looming closer. His servos reach out, brushing lightly against your arm, a barely-there touch meant to test your reaction. His fingers graze against you with all the delicacy of a lover’s caress, before they settle firmly on your waist.

The grip is possessive, grounding him in this moment, yet your expression is nothing like the love-drunk gaze he remembers. He hates the way you look at him, with such cold scorn in your optics. You used to gaze at him with warmth, with love so gentle it seeped into his very spark, a warmth that had comforted him during long, lonely nights in his habsuite. He remembers the way you’d trail butterfly kisses across his faceplate, the way you’d whisper words of hope into the silence, urging him to believe in a goodness he never quite grasped. He had never understood it, but he had craved it all the same.

Now, that tenderness is gone, replaced by a coldness that strikes deeper than any wound he’s ever suffered.

Leaning in, he presses his lips close to your audials, his voice a low murmur meant for your hearing alone. “I missed you.” His words carry a darkly tender note, twisted and dangerous, yet painfully sincere. They come from the fractured remains of his spark, a truth he’d never dare confess if it weren’t for this vulnerable, surreal moment. Saying it aloud makes him feel exposed, weak—a feeling he despises, even as he holds you close.

The softness in his tone unsettles you, and you pull away, disgust twisting across your face as if his mere touch sullies you. And then, you spit out words he didn’t want to hear—words that shatter the delicate fantasy he’d harbored.

“You’re a monster.”

The words slice into him with a precision he can’t ignore, nearly forcing him to flinch. His spark burns with the realization that you mean every syllable, that your bitterness is real. He steels himself, masking the hurt with a smirk that he hopes hides the cracks beginning to show.

“Oh, and why is that?” His tone is mocking, hiding the bruised ego beneath a veneer of indifference. He’s lost you—he can feel it in his lines, the agony twisting deeper with every passing moment. But he won’t let you see him bleed.

He had known, of course. He had always known that you wouldn’t want someone like him, not truly. You had been so innocent back on Cybertron, unable to stomach even the refereed gladiator matches broadcast on the public holo-networks. A sigh of amusement slips past his lips at the memory of your protests, your wide-eyed horror whenever he’d try to justify his need for the thrill, for the violence that kept his circuits alive.

And yet, in his most desperate dreams, in the throes of long nights of solitude, he’d allowed himself to hope, to imagine a version of you that would accept him. In those dreams, he’d imagined you would come to him, throw yourself into his arms, clinging to him with a love that transcended logic or sanity.

“Overlord! I was so worried about you,” he’d imagine you crying, your words frantic, urgent with relief. “After the war broke out, I kept searching and searching—“

The fantasy fades, dissolving like the ashes of a burnt-out spark. Here, in the cold, bitter reality, your eyes are filled with something far different. There is no tearful reunion, no joy or relief, only fury and heartbreak.

“Do you need me to spoon-feed you answers?” you snap, voice laced with venom that makes his spark seize. “You just killed an innocent Cybertronian, for starters.” The irritation in your voice like sandpaper against his circuits. The bite in your words is harsh, uncaring, and Overlord’s entire being hums with a fury he barely controls. Yet all he can do is smirk, his expression twisting into a mockery of amusement.

“Is that all?”. A veneer he uses to mask the guttural scream building in his chest. Because he knows the truth, even if he’d sooner shatter every piece of his own spark than admit it: you’ll never love him. Not anymore.

You are walking. He’s falling, grasping for anything to cling to, anything to stop this downward spiral that you’ve triggered just by speaking, by being here, by existing in a way that makes him remember everything he tried so hard to forget. The smirk he holds is so fragile, more like a mask stretched too tight over the roiling turmoil beneath, and every bit of hurt you hurl at him shatters him more than he’ll ever admit.

He’d imagined a reunion a thousand times, each one a small flicker of twisted hope—hope that, perhaps, you would forgive him, that you’d see him as a misunderstood soul forced by circumstance into brutality. He’d envisioned you clinging to him, desperate to hold onto the being he once was, sobbing and reaching for him as he explained, in his carefully constructed dreams, that he had to do this. That violence was simply his nature, born of necessity, not cruelty.

But here, in the cold light of reality, you’re staring at him as though he’s already dead to you, as if he’s just another broken piece of metal discarded in the battlefield. A scream builds in his processors, but he chokes it back, refusing to let you see how deeply he’s hurting.

The weight of your gaze made something in his processor spin. He’d believed, against all reason, that the connection you shared would endure, that your patience and love could withstand even the most damning of his crimes. It was a delusion, he knows now.

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

[spideyhina236]

She looks so good holyshit 😳🥰 Have mercy Becky Armstrong 🥺

[an0ma1y-th3d0ma1y]

Hey, if you’re not too busy… is it possible to ask for a lee! B-127 and a ler! D-16 and Orion?

Maybe the two introduced tickling to bee since he’s been down in sub-level 50 for a looong while and is a VERY touch starved bot.. If that’s ok..?

I-i’m just gonna *points to the exit* bye!

Surface Findings

(A/N: IM SO SORRY I HAVENT BEEN POSTING its hard to find motivation these days 😞😞 im really hoping I can answer more asks and do more stuff.. I PROMISE ILL MAKE IT UP TO YALL (hopefully))

‼️TFONE SPOILERS AHEAD‼️

D-16 really loved his best friend, he really did. But when the bot got them into situations such as going to the surface to try and find the Matrix of Leadership for Sentinel Prime.. His face looked *pretty* punchable.

The four miner bots hiked across the surface ground, the gentle breeze of the wind and glare of the sun a strange new feeling for them all. Elita-1 carefully navigating the pinpoint on the map from Alpha Trion, the punch in the face she delivered to Orion earlier really seeming worth it at the moment..

“It’s like a weird, nature thing.. It’s weird.” Orion conversed to D, whom followed close to his best friend. B-127, the miner bot who assisted them out of sub level 50 following close behind, happy as can be. Elita coming to a stop, her servo signaling for the others to mimic.

“..Seems like a pretty good place to settle down until we can get there safely.” Orion suggested, Elita humming in agreement. “Alright, but if there’s some sort of monster out there you’re bait.” D chimed in begrudgingly, Orion chuckling. The four bots carefully sliding down the hill, Bee falling in the process. Chirping a small ‘I’m alright!’ Before quickly following behind.

The miners found themselves settled at their little hangout spot underneath a.. Tree? Huh, weird name for it. Bee hanging upside down from a branch with a grin on his face, the others talking.

“It would probably be a good idea for someone to scout the area, we don’t know what’s out here.” D suggested, Orion nodding. “..Rock paper scissors?”

“Oh for primus sake.”

Elita snapped a branch off of the tree, walking out to go and scout. Leaving the three alone. “Sooo, what do you guys wanna do??” Bee asked, letting out a squawk when the branch he hung on snapped, falling into D’s lap with a guilty grin. D rolling his eyes, giving the shorter miner a slight playful poke to his side plate, a short yelp emerging from him.

“..What was that, Bee?”

“I-I don’t know!”

Bee exclaimed, seeming slightly alarmed by the small discovery. “When you like- did that it..”

“Tickled?”

“..What’s that?” Bee squinted a bit, D and Orion’s optics widening. He didn’t know what tickling was!?

“..Well, it’s basically when someone.. *touches* you in a specific way that.. makes you flinch or laugh.” D explained the best he could, Orion nodding. “Huh.. Ti-ckle.. That’s a funny word! Tickle tickle tickle-“

“We know, we know..” D quickly cut him off, his faceplate heating up slightly. Glaring at Orion when he gave him a smirk. “It's really not a bad thing, though. It’s a good way to bond and create connections.” Orion smiled, putting a hand on Bee’s shoulder.

“..Can you do it again??”

“Pardon?”

“Can you tickle me again?” Bee asked with hopeful eyes, Orion and D sharing a look before smiling down at the smaller miner. D grabbing him under his arms, hoisting him up in his lap. Orion scooting closer on his knees, wiggling his fingers over Bee’s torso, making the miner giggle slightly in anticipation.

“You ready, Bee?”

“Y-Yeheah!-“

His fingers darted down to Bee’s stomach cavity, gently wiggling around. The smaller bot immediately bursting out into giggles, slightly squirming and kicking his legs. Orion chuckling softly seeing his friend so giddy and smiley, buzzing his digits into his ribs. Earning a pretty loud squeal from the bot, D wincing a little hearing it right up close to his audio sensors.

“You enjoying yourself, buddy?” Orion asked teasingly, raking his digits up and down his sides and ribs. “IhIHIT reHEhealLY- *hic* tiHIhiCKLeHEHEEES!!” Bee hiccuped, Orion cooing a small “N’aww..” Dragging his digits back down to his stomach, gently tracing and poking around the area. A small smirk crawling up his lips seeing D gently blowing on Bee’s exposed neck wires, making him squeak nonstop.

The two eventually spared the small bot, not wanting him to pop a cog. Watching as he melted into D’s lap, the silver bot smiling and gently patting him on the helm. “Thahat.. *pant* that was reheally fuhun… Can we do it again??” Bee chirped, a glimmer in his optics. “Sorry, buddy. We can’t have you breaking your voice box.” (subtle foreshadowing)

Just in that moment, Elita returned with some mud and scratches on her paint, but overall in one piece.

“The only thing we’ve got to worry about are those brown slime puddles, and-“ She paused upon seeing the state Bee was in. “..What happened to him?”

“Hey Elita! Orion and D were just ti-“

“He was just running! Got a little too excited about being out here with us..” D quickly chimed in with a chuckle, Elita raising an optical ridge slightly, however humming and shrugging her shoulders afterwards.

“Nice save.” Orion whispered to D while Elita sat down, D nodding. “Why are we keeping it a secret from her??” Bee whispered.

“..It’ll make sense when you’re more familiar with it.”

“With tickl-“

“SHH- Yes, yes that..”

Orion chuckled. He loved his friends, nothing could ever go wrong between them. Right?

[naffeclipse]

Naff I love your monster husbands so much and I can't wait to see more of them!!!

I do have some questions, if you feel like talking about them. If MC asked, would Hawthorn take them on a flight or would he be too scared of MC getting hurt? What does Grease's blushing look like? Is it one color or maybe multiple? Does it stay stationary on his face or does it kind of move in a similar oozing motion? For Calmo, I know he isn't great with new technology but how would he react to an MC who also lacks skill with it? When you say optics are you talking about the screen itself or does he have a sort of display face? Also does he have any sensory input, like could MC tickle him or would that not really register? I'm sorry if this is too many questions, I just find talking about ocs fun and I'm so intrigued by yours!!

AHHH THANK YOU! That makes me so happy, eee! <3

Hawthorn would get flustered if MC asked him such a thing, and he would gladly take MC on a little flight. He's well aware that he might bring danger by simply being in MC's presence, but he can't refuse such a sweet request and justifies it to himself. MC will be safe and sound in his arms, even hundreds of feet above the ground.

Grease's blushing is the same color of iridescence seen on oil but visibly brighter and focused on his cheeks. It can be missed, but once MC knows Grease better, MC can pick up when he's actually 'pink' in the face though it is rare. Grease is supposed to be the one making MC blush, not the other way around!

Calmo would find it strange that MC lacks skills with modern technology. MC has lived with such advances for a long time and should be well aware of their uses, but he would attribute such struggles to being human. (Said the kettle to the pot.) Calmo would grow even more determined to learn and adapt so he can be proficient and up to date and help MC for a better quality of life.

Calmo has actual optic eyes, glowing yellow, surrounded by white noise. He doesn't have a display face but a smooth, matt covering like the back of a monitor of a 90s computer. His mouth is much like a cassette tape deck but still functions as a mouth. He's not strictly a robot in the sense that he can't move his mouth or his brow. There's something more alive to him, something inexplicable.

Calmo has sensory input! He can also monitor MC's heart rate for... reasons. He still has some limitations but he can feel MC's touch anywhere on his body and would react accordingly. He can feel pain, warmth, coldness, pressure, and gentleness. He can feel MC's hand when he needs help fixing anything wrong within his chassis. As for him being ticklish, he's not��not due to his body limitations, but simply due to his character. It takes a lot more than tickling to draw out a strong reaction from Calmo that isn't cool and icy.

[revelboo]

Revel your stories are absolutely addictive omg, you’ve brought back a love for spinister i haven’t had in like 2 years… i am loving the scavenger story oml… but nah if i was her i would so wanna throw myself off the fucking medical table right then and there 😭✋

Same 🤣

They will each get a fleshed out arc, but Spin gets dibs

Because I live in the southern part of the U.S. and we don’t do snow, I’m working from home today.

A Lifeless Ordinary Pt 15

Scavengers x Reader

• It’s easier to think, focus, when it’s just the two of you. Because something about you calms that muddle of paranoia and confusion in his head. Letting him focus on the feel of you against him, something he needs now. Can’t recharge without your warmth and feeling the steady beat of your heart, your soft breaths against him. Knows something is broken in him, but can’t get a grip on what it is or remember why, but you feel like warmth and home in a way he’s desperate to hold onto. “Want,” he mutters, battle mask rubbing against your jaw.

• “What do you want, Spin?” You ask, voice soft and soothing as the flat of the chevron on his helm gently bumps against your forehead, those troubled optics more focused than you’re used to. But you already know what he wants, don’t you? Startled when his mask retracts and his lips brush against your cheek as he raggedly vents. You’ve seen him retract it before to fuel, but never from this close and you reach to cup his face in your palms, feathering a thumb against his bottom lip. He’s handsome. Alien and strange, struggling to be understood and to understand in turn and your heart aches for him. “You saved me, you know. If you hadn’t found and caught me-” Can’t make yourself say the rest and know you can never really explain how much you owe him. Because that first time you’d seen him, you’d only seen a giant monster running toward you with his hands outstretched.

• “Always find you,” he manages, spark twisting with that remembered fear in your voice. Because he knows that feeling of helplessness. Wants to be your shelter, your protector. Shield you so you never are afraid again. Even if you don’t want him the way he needs you, he’ll still keep you safe. Those soft hands and kind eyes his shelter. “Want you.” Wishes he was better at this. That he could coax you with sweet words, but loses them as soon as he tries to say them.

• Hands still framing his face as your heart begins to race, your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip and his optics track the movement before he leans in. And it occurs to you that you could push him away, lean back, instead you arch into him, your mouth brushing his. Realizing you do want this, him even if you’re uncertain about how it’s going to work or if it even can. Want those gentle hands that had rescued you, stubbornly reaching as you’d tried to hide, not giving up when he could have and just left you to starve.

• Shuddering as your soft mouth finds his own, his hips rock against the cradle of your thighs. And your little tongue swipes against the seam of his lips and he lets you in without hesitation. Seizing control as the slide of your mouth under his becomes a demand, his glossa sliding against your tongue, exploring. Wants to unwrap you, servos fisting in your top covering, the thin material tearing as you gasp into his mouth. Growling as he tries to figure out how to strip you, spike aching with the need to be inside you. To claim what’s his.

• “Slow down,” you manage, lips sliding to the corner of his mouth. Feel his hips grind against you as he growls hungrily. Servos sliding against your skin, pulling at your clothes as you laugh and splay a hand against his chassis, watching the rotor blades on his back flare out slightly. “Let me help, okay?” Pressing a kiss against his jaw, he finally eases back some, optics hungry as you struggle to strip still caged under him. His big, warm hands sliding possessively over skin as it’s exposed.

• “You think he’s fragging Tiny, yet?” Misfire asks, lingering near the closed door to Medbay and tempted to lean his helm against the door to try and hear. Can’t deny he’s jealous, that as much as he loves teasing you and watching you get flustered with him, he wants more. It’s not like you’re only Spinister’s. You’re all of theirs. A Scavenger. He just needs to convince you and his fellow Scavengers that sharing is not only possible, it’s for the best.

• “This isn’t funny,” Krok mutters, worried about Spinister being too rough with you. But really? The big medic is surprisingly gentle with you, fussing over you and clinging to you like he’s afraid to let you out of his sight. You’re one of his crew, though and Krok can’t help but be protective of you. After all, you’re so much smaller than the rest of them. Helpless and fragile. That situation with the tape had driven that home, his spark still constricting every time he thinks about it. Knowing you could have died because of their negligence. That he can’t fail you again.

Previous

Next

[daintyitgirl]

gentle monster 2024 optical series "gentle high school"

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Could you write some nsfw (or anything really) for grecks he’s one of my favs ♥️

I definitely had a little personal crisis when I went to do the debt collection quest for the Garrets and saw Grecks. New Vegas was my first Fallout game, and I had already developed an instant little crush on Rotface who lives literally right around the corner in Freeside. When I talked to Grecks it started to really settle in that I might just have a thing for ghouls. This was before I'd really realized that I was (and am) a monster fucker, in the first step of many that led to the creation of this blog. Very nostalgic. Thanks for the ask.

NSFW under the cut.

Grecks (Fallout: New Vegas) Headcanons

SFW

Like all ghouls with any remaining hair, it's his pride and joy. Granted, it gets pretty messy from time to time, as long-term homelessness often impacts one's ability to stay clean and spiffy. You can tell a lot about his mental health and current situation based on how his hair looks.

Once he picks up on your flirtation, he undulates wildly between flattered excitement and ugly suspicion. He likes you, and he's very strongly attracted to you physically, but he's an incredibly distrustful person overall. Granted, he comes by his cynicism earnestly, as he's been through a lot, like many ghouls. Some of the bad things that have happened to him were due to his own poor decision making, but plenty of them were either due to prejudice or downright rotten luck. He's fairly eager to spend social time with you and even more eager to sleep together, but you'll definitely feel the wall he has up between you often. With time, he'll let it down, but it'll be a slow process. Always seems like he has secrets he doesn't share with you.

His injuries from when he was disfigured still hurt him pretty frequently. He often has headaches, sometimes so badly that they blur his already iffy vision and make him so dizzy he can't get out of bed. Will often avoid you when he's not feeling well because he knows he can be especially unpleasant.

Wasn't a gambler before his head injury. In fact, a lot of his personality changed afterwards. Significant head trauma can alter your whole personality, and while he's not exactly Phineas Gage, he certainly struggles more with impulse control and emotional regulation than he once did.

NSFW

Not a fan of missionary, as tilting his head down towards your face often makes him dizzy as he moves around on top of you. He likes being on top of you, but he doesn't like spoiling the mood by literally falling off the bed. Prefers to be ridden, as it's a safer and more comfortable position for him. Doggy works, too, but he likes to have your face accessible; he's a big kisser.

Has a middling sex drive. When he's horny, he's really horny, but there are plenty of times where sex isn't on his mind much. It's partially a product of his unstable living situation, as it's hard to focus on being horny when you're focused on paying debts and finding a place to safely exist; if he had a safer, more regulated daily life, he'd initiate more often. Will still be down to have sex if you initiate, but it may take more foreplay than usual to get him ready.

Bigger than average cock, and he loves to show it off when he's in the mood. He may be incredibly self-conscious about his looks, even for a ghoul, but he knows he has the one thing going for him, at the very least. Definitely has recurrent nightmares about it rotting off because he knows it's at least a possibility one day. The quickest way to have this man completely wrapped around around your finger is to lean into this, to play all shy like he's so big you're quaking in your boots. Make him promise he'll be gentle, etc. Big into cock worship.

Breast man. Loves both the feeling and the optics of a good tit-fuck, but worries about accidentally getting his cum on your face. While it's hot, he's afraid he'll melt your eye out or something.

Discussions about boundaries are critical with him, and you need to have them often. As I mentioned before, he struggles with impulse control, so in the heat of the moment, he'll sometimes try things without consulting you first. While he'd never hurt or upset you on purpose, not communicating before trying new things in bed is a recipe for just that.

[witchhaven]

Soul

The wasteland, a hostile zone. Not that you'd be able to tell by looking at it much of the time. On this night, a light rain descended on the plains housing the abandoned cottage my unit set up our outpost in. I half-sat in the kitchen, on the counter with my lukewarm tea held in a gloved left hand, peering through the windows to see what little I could with the dim lighting reflecting against the glass. I was sure that I would've strained had I still been human.

The night was a quiet one, but as the combat doll in the squad, I was assigned to keep watch through the nights. I hadn't needed sleep since the conversion. I stared out into the inky darkness, watching for any movement. The squad's witch had been having bad dreams lately, and that had a high likelihood of attracting attention with the projected aura.

Suddenly, the gentle whispers of the light sprinkle of rain stopped. Silence followed, a deafening quiet. The sound, or lack thereof, was suffocating, as it engulfed the cottage. The lights began to flicker sporadically, as a large thump was heard, rattling the teacups against the saucers loudly. More silence followed, as the lights continued flickering. I set my teacup down, lurching forward to peer further through the windows.

After several minutes more of silence, a loud crack sounded as a bright red light permeated through the kitchen. A large, biomechanical, quadrupedal form, with wired structures loosely encapsulated the sickly, lanky frame. The head, seemingly impossibly supporting a large mouth full of sharp, metallic teeth, and a singular crimson optical array, piercing directly into my gaze. It let out an earsplitting, inorganic howl, confirming that it had indeed seen me. Immediately, I heard my comrades jolt awake at the sound, and in addition, my witch stepped out into my view.

"Soul, we need to move." They softly commanded me.

I began making my way to the rear of the cottage, "Yes, Miss. I'm proceeding to the tank."

"Understood. Now, the rest of you, get up, and get up quick. Flank in the APCs." They proceeded to follow me towards the back of the cottage.

Once we exited the back door, I entered the armored vehicle first. I seated myself in the driver's seat, starting the engines while my witch situated themselves in the turret. I began driving to a position clear enough to take a shot at the enemy. I then turn counter-clockwise 30 degrees to allow my witch the degree of movement they needed to fire on it. The APCs surrounded it, as the red light of the optical array scanned over us all.

The witch lined up the turret for a shot on the creature's core, "Good doll. Squad, prepare for concentrated fire on the Polyphemus's reactor."

As the order left my witch's mouth, the Polyphemus opened its mouth, and gunfire thundered on the left side APC, several rounds piercing its armor plating. In a snap reaction, my witch let loose a shot into the ribcage of the biomechanical beast. The fire stopped as it wailed from the damage, but the core remained intact. The witch began loading the next shot, as the creature's head turned to stare directly down at us. More precisely, it peered at the porthole of the turret.

As the Polyphemus opened its mouth again, I accelerated the tank forward, hearing my witch swear under their breath at the sudden movement, and gasp as a few projectiles grazed the rear of the vehicle. I turned 45 degrees clockwise, leading the creature away from the rest of the squad.

"Apologies, Miss! Please fire on the mouth with the auxiliary autocannon, we can lead it away from the rest of the squad!" I suggested to my witch.

They nodded as they rotated the seat, "Mmm. Tactically sound indeed, Soul."

My witch opened fire with the autocannon, prompting the monster to chase after us. It screeched as the dense projectiles peppered its shell. The two APCs followed after from either side. Secondary infantry manned the LMGs on top. Taking the incoming fire, the Polyphemus stumbled. I rotated the tank 180 degrees clockwise, allowing my witch to line up another cannon shot on the monster. They rotated the seat around, shoving the cartridge into the loading port, and lining up the turret for another shot at the chest. They pulled the trigger, cracking away the remaining ribcage structure, fully exposing the core.

It turned towards the tank, howling once again as it broke into a sprint with a fully open maw. I tried to reverse pace to evade the attack, but failed, and recoiled as metallic teeth breached the hull of the tank and clamped over the turret. The jaws ripped away as thick armor plates peeled like paper, accompanied by numerous sparks and sickening creaking. As it lifted its head up, I saw an opportunity: a fully exposed core, in perfect range. I let out a scream as I stood up, releasing a punch with my right arm. My conversion thankfully granted me the physical strength I needed to penetrate the core, but at the cost of the structural integrity of my forearm and various structures through my right arm. Fractures rippled through as flames poured out onto the floor of the now ruined vehicle. The Polyphemus's roaring lowered into a rumble, and then a silence, before it collapsed to our left side.

Burdened breathing faded in behind me as the noise of the battlefield cleared, between gasps, my witch praising me, "Good... doll. You're... an excellent operator..."

"Ma'am?" I turned around to see one of the teeth of the monster lodged in their chest.

I rushed over, and with my still functional left hand, pulled them out of the turret's seat, "No, no no no no no. Miss, please breathe, it's going to be okay..."

"O-operator class... B-450-3 Soul, I officially... dismiss you." The witch touched my face with their left hand.

I tightened my embrace around them, "No, Miss... No, that won't be necessary, you're gonna be fine, Miss. You're gonna be okay..."

I felt their body lose tension as their arm went limp, dropping from my cheek. I pulled away slightly to peer at their face. Their green eyes, once full of life were now motionless glassy marbles, still beautiful, but now starkly static. I held them close again, feeling their warmth fade, failing to feel them breathe, failing to feel their heartbeat. I wailed, eyes welling up with tears, a cruel reminder of what I still hadn't lost: the pain.

I feel as though I'm exiting a fog as I wake up this morning. What an unusual dream, then again, I don't recall having dreams of my own before. How vivid the images were, how real the emotions felt. It's like I wasn't dreaming at all, but being shown a memory. It certainly wasn't my own memory, how could it be? I'm a house, after all. Whose memory was I-

I'm interrupted by a knock at my front door. It's another doll, taller than the others. Dark hair, dull, red eyes, and a tired expression. Its hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, and a loose fitting set of dark clothes cover its body. I see dark fractures painting its right arm and hand, having been sealed over with a dark colored adhesive.

I allow my door to open for it, and it collapses to its knees in the opening. Peering into the main hall, its face cracks a weary smile.

"I'm home..."

This is the newest installment of an ongoing series called The Dolls' House, and while it's largely formatted like a slice-of-life, you'll still benefit from reading the series sequentially. Click here to read the first chapter.