#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

Lost Light Megatron x Reader- therapy

• Megatron is just tired. And over it. It being Rodimus. The co-captain currently on the bridge singing off key to whatever Earth music Swerve had spliced into the ship wide comm as Megatron slowly vents and reminds himself that he’s a pacifist now. So he can’t strangle Rodimus. Or push him out an airlock. Rising from his seat, he heads deeper into the ship. Toward the most irritating part of his day.

• And if it’s not Rodimus slowly trying to drive him insane, there’s always the rest of the crew. Especially Whirl. That one he can push out an airlock and he suspects everyone might clap. It doesn’t matter that they’re on a mission. An important mission. Unfortunately, this crew of misfits and pure chaos is always one second from shenanigans. His Decepticons had never been this bad.

• The latest shenanigan being a human that is now just on the ship. No one knew where it came from. Or, more likely, no one wants to admit that they had smuggled it on board at some point along the way. Which only raises more questions. Questions he isn’t interested in dealing with.

• Like whatever this is. Swallowing a groan, his optics slide from Rung to the human. More specifically the bright yellow vest the human is now wearing that declares in Cybertronian ‘Therapy Human.’ “Why?”

• Little face tipping up toward him at his deep voice, the human’s legs swing, heels thumping on the shelf Rung has perched it on. “Humans use lesser mammals for therapy. The contact is soothing to patients,” Rung says in Cybertronian.

• Ah. So the human has no idea what the vest says or what Rung has roped it into. Optics narrowing, he shakes his head and wonders what exactly Rung had told it. The mech was honest to a fault, so he wouldn’t have lied to it. Not exactly, anyway.

• “I believe we were discussing the gladiator pits of Kaon last time?” Rung adds in that infuriatingly soothing tone, crooking a servo at the human who obediently slides down from its seat to approach.

• And it’s accept the human as Rung scoops it up and thrusts it at him or let it fall and probably break all its tiny bones. So he cups his hands around it, hearing its sharp intake of breath and the strange feel of those tiny, soft hands touching his. “This is ridiculous.”

• “Humor me this one time. Now. Kaon?” Rung’s staring at him, his lips faintly curling into an almost smile. Waiting patiently.

• Heart racing, you settle yourself against the palm under you, neck craning to peek through the gaps in the servos caged over her. The first time you’d been handed to Whirl, he’d grasped you around the waist in those pinchers and amused himself by tipping you back and forth as he’d talked. It’d been a miracle you hadn’t hurled on him. The former warlord is at least being gentle.

• And his deep voice rolls over you, painting a grim picture of a brutal world you’ll never know. Of fighting for his life, heart-wrenching pain, and hard won victory. He sounds almost wistful as he reminisces, letting Rung’s questions steer the story. The first slide of a servo across your shoulders makes you stiffen for a heartbeat before you relax into the absent minded touch. You’re not under any delusions about your role. Playing therapy doggie for giant, alien robots wasn’t exactly dignified, but you didn’t mind.

Next

[nct127s]

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...

[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.

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

[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.

[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?

[spideyhina236]

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

[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.

[daintyitgirl]

gentle monster 2024 optical series "gentle high school"

[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.

[revelboo]

Thanks to you I'm making a large purchase of blokees transformers figures, my addiction starts again 😂😂

Do it! They’re tiny, so it’s fine. I may have ordered Prowl, Sideswipe, and Bluestreak from a guy on EBay

Skin and Bones Pt 8

IDW Megatron x Reader

• Is that him? Rumbling softly to himself, he leans forward to study the little sketch you’re making with your fingers on a corner of his unsupervised data pad and, sure enough, it is a surprisingly good depiction of him you’re drawing. And much more flattering than the pointy-denta version of Skywarp beside it, crouched like a monster. “You’re good at that,” he says and you look up so suddenly he realizes you were fully engrossed in your project and hadn’t even noticed he was there. He guiltily reaches to run a servo over your hair, spark warming when you reach up to touch him in return. “You like to draw?”

• Palm on that huge servo still lingering against your hair, you smile up at him, because he sounds genuinely curious. Like he actually cares about the answer and it’s sweet, the big warlord so achingly gentle with you. It’s really hard to believe the Seekers always spoke of his temper in hushed tones, though maybe he just keeps that side of himself hidden from you. It’s hard to believe that when he slides the tip of his servo against your cheek, though. “I do.”

• Optics half shuttered as you cling to his servo and just smile up at him, he’s reluctant to break the contact between you two. Especially in moments like this where you look up at him with trust he’s not entirely sure he deserves. Would you still look at him like that if you knew the things he’s done? Some because he was backed into a corner, but some, most, out of anger. “I’ll find you paints then,” he murmurs and your smile widens in pleasure, twisting about his spark. Your happiness a warmth inside him, slowly banking the anger that’s always there, sometimes all consuming, but never when you’re near.

• Beaming up at him as he finally pulls away, there’s a whisper of disappointment at the loss of his touch that doesn’t quite make sense to you. That makes you want to reach after him instead of letting your hand fall. He’s easier to get along with than the Seekers has been, so much less demanding. Starscream had needed praise and reassuring, Thundercracker to be talked to, and Skywarp had needed someone to listen to his silly plans and plots and encourage him. You’d felt like an adult babysitting in dealing with them sometimes, but Megatron asks for nothing from you but companionship. It’s almost enough to make you forget that you’re here against your will, because you enjoy talking to him. The stories he’ll sometimes tell of his world before the war, that rumbling voice deep with a longing that seems like it’s not for a place exactly, but belonging. And you wonder if he’s ever felt like he belonged anywhere.

• Your expression just then, it’s almost sad and he hesitates. Wants to ask what just crossed your mind, but resists. Doesn’t want to pry. He’s volunteered little pieces of his past, to try and get something from you in return. Of the mines and the gladiator fights. Carefully worded accounts that leave out the pain, trauma, hatred, and spilled energon, because if you knew it all, you wouldn’t smile at him. You’d be terrified. But you give him nothing back, keeping your life before Starscream stole you a secret and he understands even if it bothers him. Knows you must miss your freedom and wonders sometimes who you left behind and if you mourn them. You cry sometimes he knows, silently shaking and trying to keep that too from him.

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[miwksowp]

ay anyone made the gentle monster opticals... or?