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sin-sidejob · 1 year

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Insidious Inside Job: Halloween pt. 2

Note: Inspired by skoshibuns fanart on instagram + I have songs linked with each segment for the specific portion that goes with the monster, the plot, or both + reminder, I may be an english major but this thing is barely proofread

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, AFAB + GN PRONOUNS, RAW SEX (wrap that rascal), monster-fucking, tentacle fucking, inhuman creatures, furry fucking? One brief scene of alluded almost sexual assault/assault (that gets stopped and interrupted) incredibly vague nothing actually happens, drug use/roofied/narcotics, I guess, werewolf (slight A/B/O dynamics), breeding kink, talks of missing body parts and death, cockwarming, somnophilia the undead, zombies, doctor play, doctor kink, doctor/fake patient, living dead, experimentation with cadavers and dead bodies, mention of illness/cancer, various Halloween-y phenomena + probably more

Content: smut, spooky scary spectral holiday smuttening, monster and inhuman creature fucking, usual debauchery you can expect from me, dicks and pussy, inhuman and monster genitalia, reader has AFAB nethers/genitalia and a cunt but I don’t describe about tits so folks are safe, I used gender neutral pronouns all throughout as well. Mentions of underwear and generalized clothing but no bras or gendered articles of clothing. Southernification of Robotus (you’ll see) + probably more

! ! ! This is part two, with Reagan + Brett + Andre + Robotus + Myc. Part one, located here, includes Gigi + JR + Glenn + a bonus character ! ! !

Reagan Ridley: MAD SCIENTIST

• songs: Evil Eye - Franz Ferdinand

- You were used to the chaotic cadence that came with knowing and loving the reclusive Dr. Ridley, enjoying the maniacal dynamic and aiding her in her experiments, helping her tidy up should a test go awry. You aided her in all her endeavors, even the unsightly ones, and that dedication and mutual trust blossomed into friendship and then eventually love and list. Simple creatures, you two were, and instincts were a gravitational pull as equally potent to magnets as to mankind.

- The latter half of the year, when the weather turns and the leaves change and shed their green covers to don the classic golden hues, is when she came alive even more. She found energy in the fall and winter weather, more likely to be within the confines of her laboratory and adding scrawled, scratch-like lines into her notebooks and texts, running about with her coat billowing behind her like a shadow tethered to her, fluttering beside her with the grace of a conspirator.

- There were times when she would not need your assistance and you would be free and left to your own devices, wandering about the extravagant library and traipsing through the halls, snooping where you shouldn't, and happily receiving your punishments. Life was good and continued to be so, almost mundane in an unnatural, phenomenal way. There was no dark side of the moon to you, only the light because the shadows were your home, and the person you called lover languished alongside you in Moonglow-shaded craters.

- But your favorite moments had to be when it was you she was examining, you who she was teasing and playing with, black patent leather gloves that were entirely unsafe and unethical in a lab environment used on your form, drawing out pinpricks of chills. Especially now as Reagan hums at the sight of your disheveled state, silent beside her idle noises and internalized dialogue as if she is annotating already-written notes within the confines of her brain of you as her hands draw out more data to analyze, almost pulling all your secrets pool forth from moaning lips via her ministrations.

- Reagan is seldom tender or ginger in her touch, not in a harshness but more in a neutral, guiding, directing manner. Like moving you about with the same grace as working with her equipment and tools, movements memorized and muscles well-accustomed to all that you are. She can be softer, in aftermath moments where your body and senses can not make heads or tails of where the two of you ended or began, fully enwrapped and enveloped in one another like coiled vines of ivy, cascading upwards and intertwining in great efforts. But now, her touch is not soft, but steady and purposeful.

- Cold gloves remove clothing and secure straps onto your body, across your limbs, and holding you tight against a weathered and soft wooden table, built with the intention to be used for medical seminars and demonstrations. You lay, naked and taut upon a staged table in the center of an empty auditorium for the use of educational experimentation presentations and viewing seminars for research and study. The arena on her property is empty, no event planned for today, just the two of you in the grand room and feeling infinitesimally small, yet powerful simultaneously.

- "Not too tight?" Dr. Reagan Ridley asks softly as she busies herself with hovering over the straps that secure your wrists and ankles to the examination table, gloved hands running along oiled leather seams. "Perfect." is your answer and her smile matches the word, pride in her eyes at her wonderful assistant, her previous lover. "There's my darling, now what are te rules?" she asks, unbuttoning her labcoat to expose her blouse and slacks beneath, slinky and clinging to her body in a way that makes your firsts clench just so, palms opening and closing with the yearning need to touch.

- "Nuclear is stop, gradient is slow down, and prism is keep going, or good." you answer, squirming a bit against the restrains for show and shuffling your ass against the soft wood, feeling the cool air caress your exposed, already leaking pussy. "Wonderful," the Doctor trails off, wandering away from the table and leaving you to lay spread and scan your eyes across the planetarium-painted ceiling above and marvel at the gold leaf details in the stars and constellations, drawing you back in when she returns and adjusts her gloves with a small thwack, "now, where should we begin?"

- You don't respond immediately, not knowing how or where to answer, unable to distinguish a clear mood in her dark eyes for what she wants and what she is planning to take from you. The hesitation makes Reagan decide on her own, a dark chuckle emerging from her lips and settling in the base of your spine, curling like a funnel stormcloud. "Alright then, guess it's up to Doctor's orders." She smooths softened leather against your inner thighs and parts your lips, blowing cool air in puffs against your exposed cunt and clicking her tongue in notes as her mind wanders in fascination.

- "I think I'll start here, test your sensitivity first hmm?" she asks aloud, mainly to herself, the table raised to her waist so she can easily maneuver around you and toy with you, like a doll. It feels all like a pleasurable version of The Princess Bride's pit of despair but mixed with a sex dungeon and none of the latex. "There, how does that feel?" it feels good, decent, not enough as the first portion of her pointer finger breaches your walls, the texture not adding much besides a cooler sensation. You answer the same, and she hums before moving on, shifting in a manner reminiscent of a cat's sly sway.

- "Space for improvement, good." she comments, a stray hair falling into her forehead from her tight ponytail, dark hair pulled back and away from her face and allowing you to fully watch her move and her shifting expressions. She thrusts the finger into you, slowly and watching as you clench around her, gaping and closing in a rhythmic pattern. "And this?"

- "its g-good too," you choke out, shifting your head from looking at her to nothing, eyes shut and you try not to squirm, letting her venture as she pleased, "but not good enough?" Reagan asks, and you nod in agreement, prompting her to curl her finger upwards, matching with her second finger, and smirking, brows arching as she watches you grow more and more disheveled.

- "ah," you moan out, lip tugged between your teeth as you bite down, fists clenching and unclenching once the pleasure begins to initially build, feeling it bubble forth in your belly like a tide pool on the beach, collecting and growing as more gets put into it. "Now that's a reaction, keep speaking beautiful." she directs, curling in upward strokes from within your walls

- You nod, mewling a bit as your voice breaks and pitches, feeling her slide in another digit, pointer finger to ring finger all slotted. Her gloves are thicker, making the stretch a bit wider than what you're accustomed to, and you break a tad, grinding your hips down and wriggling, aching to get something more, and that something ends up being Reagan's attention.

- "Oh this won't do, I think you need some more advanced methods." Reagan murmurs, enjoying the look on your face as she steps back and out of your line of vision, holding back laughter as you whine and make confused tones, wondering why she stopped when she had finally gotten to the good part. "Easy now, just a moment, you can be patient for me, can't you?"

- "Yes, Doctor." She whips her head around and drops the tool in her hand, and you're worried for a second she didn't like you saying that but she arrives moments later with a silicone dick and a small vibrator in hand, accompanied by a sly grin. "Doctor, hm? We're keeping that." she states as she sets the items in her hands down beside you on the flat table, now away from your sight before you could see any of the specific characteristics or facets.

- You squirm again, chills from the exposed air finally overriding the pleasure in your veins and cooling your body. Reagan tuts at that, smoothing her dry glove up your thigh in an attempt to warm you up, "phrase?" she asks, gentle and present as she looks at you. "Prism." she smiles and nods before her expression shifts, popping the cap off a bottle of lube and warming it between her hands as she looks you over, a small smile emerging once she spots your cunt, clenching around nothing from the show she put on of her rubbing her palms together with her exposed forearms rippling.

- "Ready for me?" she asks, adjusting her gloves and then sucking off the slick residue from her one hand, purposely staring you down as she does it with intent. "Always, Doctor." a shudder that she fails to try and hide rolls through her spine at that, not fully used to you ever calling her that, especially when you're bare and at her mercy.

- "good answer." Reagan responds, lubing up the silicone and sliding it through your folds slowly, watching as you tense and begin to grind. Her hand plants your hip down still, forcing it to stop as she fixes you a warning look while she props the dick near your cunt.

- Sliding it in, she sinks the silicone dick deep into you and watches as your cunt takes it in, noting aloud how the gloves prepped you better than what she does manually glove-free. Keening out, you force yourself still and feel her hand move to instead grip your hip instead of planting it still, guiding you along in a tempo that matches the ministrations of her other hand, fucking the fake dick into you over and over slowly, picking up the pace gradually.

- "That seems to be treating you better. You agree?" barely managing a nod, you respond with a grunting moan as she angles the silicone against a spot of nerves, making you jolt and gasp. "I'll take that as a yes." Reagan jokingly responds to herself, reaching the hand once on your hip to reach away and grab the vibrator, eager to get your pent-up self breaking and shattering like glass.

- You don't realize what's happening, too blissfully unaware due to how she continues flicking her wrist, rocking the dick into you at a pace that builds tension but doesn't get that knot of pleasure unraveling at all. When the vibrator comes to life and thrums in her hand, your head whips up in that instant Pavlovian response, knowing she's about to make you see God.

- "Holy fuck please use that thing on me." you blurt out immediately, drawing a laugh from her that's dark while she fixes you a warning look, a brow raised and you rush to find your words. "Please, Doctor." Reagan hums, pleased, and then reaches down to plant the vibrator on your clit, rolling it in circles and shapes that make your legs struggle against the stirrup-like straps, body wriggling and squirming as it tries to get comfortable to handle getting fucked this way.

- "Well would you look at that, pretty damn effective." She muses, upping the vibrator speed casually with one hand as the other splits you open on the silicone cock with ease. "Next time we're going to have to test this with having both of your holes filled, probably get you squirting in minutes."

- The idea alone that she planted like a seedling in your head blooms, making you even more turned on if possible. The way the dick nestled the spots inside that already got you seeing stars? Multiplying the effect. And now the vibrator rolling over your clit and thrumming incredibly sends you over the edge, barely able to warn her coherently before you cum with a squealing moan.

- "Fucking gorgeous," Reagan marvels, fucking you through it and lowering the setting on the vibrator, still keeping it there but rolling it in softer, smoother motions while she gently fucks the dick into you, working through an orgasm that she manages to draw out for roughly a minute or so. "So goddamn pretty like this."

- She keeps going for a while until your legs stop shaking, then she removes the toys from you and moves about, undoing the straps and stirrups holding you then grabbing a nearby blanket and wrapping you up in it. You sit up and scoot over to the side of the table, legs hanging off as Reagan stands before you, smoothing your hair back and checking you over.

- She busies herself with rolling her fingers over the slightly indented marks where the straps were, double checking to make sure you were okay but she doesn't catch your adoring, sleepy look until you tap at her arm and then raise your hand to lift her chin, beaming dazedly at her. "Hi Reagan." you murmur, pressing kisses to her cheek and jaw lazily.

- "Hello yourself, feeling okay?" she asks, amusement in her tone as she looks you over, making sure you're fully covered in the blanket and warm, trying to prevent you from getting overly cold.

- You giggle and look up at her, grinning wide and honest, "I could not be any fucking better than I am right now, now gimme' a kiss." Reagan obliges, and everything fades as it always does around her, in the best and most comforting blur.

Brett Hand: FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER

• song: Body - Mother Mother or My Boy Builds Coffins - Florence + The Machine

- Brett wishes he could manage to carve a place for himself in your life and at your side with as much ease as he has with loving you, completely enthralled and enamored with everything you are, all that you’ve been, and all that you’ll be. He’s fascinated by you and the intricacies in your movements and routines, the way your brows furrow when confused or frustrated, the smile you don’t show unless you’re caught by surprise and unable to remember hiding it.

- He gathers these little facets of yourself like river rocks and stones, wearing them down in the revisits of his memory, rolling them flat and small but soft in the way he reveres them. If only you loved him like he loved you. If only you actually knew him, not just of him. You’ve met before, known of each other practically since his initial creation. Yet he’s not satisfied because he doesn’t know what it’s like to be with you, only knowing you at the arms reach that he has from you helping him and fixing him up.

- You’re an assistant to his father, his creator, an up-and-coming scientist fascinated with his methods in Reanimation and modern-age necromancy, hoping to study his techniques and model some of his talents with your own. His father, Dr. Quentin Hand, made all of his siblings as initial creations and had Brett last, the youngest and most rushed one of the collection. He was an accumulation of spare parts, the battered bits left in the barrel, a literal representation of what comes from patchwork scientific craft and lacking interest. That’s not to say you didn’t treat him kindly or matched his father's lack of enthusiasm.

- No, you treated him carefully, just like the rest of his siblings. You gave him extra attention and care, sewing back on fingers should they get snagged and fall off his hand, making a few jokes all the while you thread the needle and fish it in and out of his flesh about how his hand’s should be better taken care of, especially since it’s his last name.

- his heart was monitored and he prayed you hadn’t caught the speeding up of the pace, the rapid ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum of his pre-owned heart firing off in awe of you and your presence. If you did, you don’t mention it and you just continue hemming and stitching him back together, returning his ring finger back onto his left hand with care, humming all the while some song stuck in the back of your head.

- “there,” you nearly startle him, pulling him from his reverie with a pat to his knee as you sit up from your chair and clean up, putting your supplies away and disinfecting, “all fixed. Let me know if there’s any trouble with your seams again and I’ll patch you up — no sweat.” His eyes, one hazel and the other bright blue, peer up at you with nothing short of pure adoration. It’s always there, poor boy can’t do anything to hide it. He just loves you is all.

- "Thank you, I'm sorry you have to always fix me up all the time." Brett states, rubbing his arm subconsciously, truly meaning it and knowing it had to be at least a little redundant to mend him after every trip and fall or tumble down the steps. Poor thing had no balance, something you try to work on in your spare time between projects and lessons with Brett's father. You turn, taking your gloves off and disposing of them while looking his way, a sad frown on your face making his dissipate like smoke. "Why are you sorry for that? It's not something you can help, sweet boy, and besides --" you trail off while stepping near him and fixing his hair and looking down at his still-sitting form, "I'm happy to help you, its what I'm here for!"

- and with that, you depart, heading to another appointment to experiment under supervision, He dreads the days that come forward now, nearing when you would be leaving since your education under the apprenticeship of his father ends to a close. You'd be gone, with your own experiments and helpers, a life completely devoid of him. he likes to think you'd write him or call, maybe see his name scrawled in your looping cursive handwriting and hear your words drawn across a page and yearn to find your love within them.

- but even he, Brett, a lovesick optimist knows that would be too good to be true. Within the month, you'd pack and leave and the spanning acres of his family's estate would be empty of your presence. Your quarters would miss your belongings, the posters, and art on the walls, the little personal items and books littered about. It would be as if you were never there, but to Brett, he would always remember you being there. He may have been reanimated, but the days where you roamed the halls and came across his sight were the only days he felt truly alive.

- Little did he know that you had been planning your departure for years and hoped you would go about it, what exactly you would leave or sell, what you would pack, how you would pack, and who you would take with you. "Dr. Hand, I have a request," you start, making casual conversation while you've currently got your forearms embedded in a cadaver's inner organs, organizing things, "I was wondering if I could take one of the experiments with me when I leave early this week?"

- Doctor Quentin Hand is no meek creature, nor does his stature indicate such. he was almost frighteningly tall, but with age has developed a slight hunching slouch making him roughly 6'5 with the rugby player's stature. The man is thick and bulky, with a head full of auburn hair turning grey and the shade of sunned strands with his age. "Depends on which of the creations you'd call to you, and if they'd like to go. The eldest are off limits, but should one of the children agree, you are free to take them. But only one."

- he is currently invested in combining chemicals to inject within the bloodstream when reanimation is to take place later, and luckily so. He misses your entire face light up, beaming from ear to ear behind your surgical mask and eyes glowing with excitement. "I've already decided who I'd like to bring with me."

-"Oh?" he doesn't even turn, swirling an open beaker that smells of disinfectant and acid, "who?". Dr. Hand shows no concern and even that worries you, knowing there was little love shown to the creations, and none whatsoever to your favorite. "I was planning to take Brett, the youngest of them."

-He waves a gloved hand and nods, "Of course, pack his things if he hasn't already. Be sure to invest in a lot of sutures and sewing materials as well, you will definitely need it." if you didn't need this formal apprenticeship, you would've killed him with his own reanimating equipment. "Yes sir."

- later, when you have cleaned up, changed, and wrapped up the experiment which once again went as a success, you settle down in your room and continue backing up your personal belongings into extra bags and suitcases for the items you gathered in your time here. A record plays, crackling initially but still pouring out the cadence of the Lungs album from Florence + The Machine as you wander about, clearing your shelves and delicately folding posters and emptying the walls.

- just as you flip over the vinyl to the b side, a knock rattles against your door. When you open it, you didn't expect Brett's tear-stained face to be the first thing you see. Nor did you expect him to rush and hug you, drawing you into his form and holding you close while he buries his head in your shoulder. "Why do you have to leave?"

- You think it's cruel, but it was always going to be a surprise for you to take him with you. The feelings were obvious and only reciprocated a few months ago. Sadly, you couldn't act on them until you got out from under the eyes of Doctor Quentin for Brett's sake and safety. But now that's not a worry, and you leave after breakfast tomorrow morning with the patchwork babydoll of a man before you.

- The sight enough is heartbreaking, especially with the direct feel of his tremors shaking through him, and then through you with the closeness. It takes several attempts to ease his cries and pry him up from your shoulder, stepping back to close the door behind him then flicking the lock shut before you cup his cheek and lift his head upwards. "Brett, sweetheart, how could you think I'd leave without you?" you soothe, thumbs rolling over his cheek and swiping tears away. "I wanted to surprise you but I think you need to hear it now, I'm taking you with me. I was never going to leave without you in the first place."

- Brett blinks blearily, wiping the tears from his multicolored eyes to stare at you openly and dart his gaze between your own eyes. "You're serious?" he asks, still buried in disbelief, "why would you want to take me, you barely even like me." Brett's met with laughter, not caustic or harsh and at his expense like what he's used to, yours is lighthearted and kind, just like your eyes. "Sweetheart, I care for you a great deal beyond just liking you." you say, taking his hands in yours, the ones you've constantly tended to like the rest of him.

- "What does that mean?" Brett asks, squeezing your hands tight and finding it impossible to look anywhere in the room besides your face. "It means I love you, silly thing, and I refuse to let you stay here any longer when you deserve the world. Let me show it to you." His tears reappear again but its relief, the feeling that swarms his body and makes him feel shrouded in Moonglow. You care for him, you love him, that his years of pining after you and hoping, praying for a miracle were worth it. You loved him, your silly ragdoll.

- "Say it again." he says, his hands moving from yours to your waist, brushing the bare skin where your shirt has ridden up with ease, aching to feel more of your warm skin in his palms. "I love you Brett." you murmur, forehead pressed to his as you press your palms to his chest, fingertips tracing the material of his henley while humming in a pleased tone once his hands begin to wander.

- "One more time." he whispers as he leans forward to catch your lips with his, admiring how your eyes flutter shut when he does. You kiss, lips shifting back and forth as you murmur how you loved him into his open mouth like a secret, and he'd cherish and protect it as such. Brett pulls back, palms cupping your warm cheeks just as you had previously with tender grace and you spot his tears have ended.

- "I will never let you down," he promises, smile bright and crooked, perfectly him and equally as charming, "I swear, you'll never regret this, never." and you know its the truth, not because he says it but because you've known for ages that there was no one else you'd care for this much. As if he was made solely for you, perfectly patchworked together.

- In an act of bravery or stupidity, you grab his hand and step backward towards your still-made bed, peering up at him from lidded eyes. "I know that, but how about you show me just how much you love me right here, hm?" you tease, loving how his mouth fell agape and his arms fled to your waist again, eagerness steeped into his actions like tea. "Can I?" brett asks, always the soft, chivalrous, perfect man. "Absolutely." you respond, already ushering out of the shirt and baring your chest to his hungry, heterochromial eyes.

- he spares no time in crowding you against the bed, climbing atop your languid form and pressing doting kisses at your lips then making his way down to your neck, eagerly leaving hickeys and marks while he undoes your belt and shucks your pants down. He bares your underwear to him and leaves you to kick off your socks with your pants, making a pile on your rug you don't mind at all. "Can I taste you?" he practically pleads, lifting up to stare down at you, beating you to the question you were just about to ask him, making you laugh once more, still that lighthearted sweet sound. "Maybe later, and then ill be able to suck you off. Right now I just want you in me, Brett. That okay?"

- he's torn between crying, busting a load in his jeans, or both. Brett just nods, lip tugged between his teeth and moving with all the enthusiasm of a hyperactive puppy, kneeling on the floor to help you slide off your underwear and nearly drooling the second he spots your bare cunt. He's running on more basic, bare instincts but wants nothing more than to flood your cunt with his cum and keep it there, keep himself there as long as he can. Never wants to leave you, and he never wants the marks and signs of him on you to fade either.

- "are you-" "yes I'm sure Brett, now can you please take your clothes off so I can ride you?" he nearly trips over himself in the process of standing and yanking off his shirt, which he does in that hot lift it from the back of the neck and tug it forward trademark style that has a new layer of slick pool forth. His jeans are mid-rise but are slung low, boxers peaking out briefly before he abandons those too, revealing one appendage you never had to mend. You're a bit glad, you ended up with a surprise too tonight, who would've thought?

- Brett returns, not knowing where to sit or lay until you shove him back to sit against the pillows upright, allowing you to sit on his lap and lay your arms over his shoulders while hovering, teasing before you to be gifted this man's virginity just like you were given his heart and soul. "You sure, baby?" you murmur, knees outside of his own and pressed chest to chest, "I can wait however long you need to." Brett grins, playful and teasing in his own way, and nips at your lip. "I'm okay, m'good, cant wait t'see what it feels like to be buried in you, probably even warmer than you feel right now." He emphasizes with a large and running up your bare spine, sending you arching and your knees threatening to buckle. You sometimes forget how big he is, and with the hefty dick bobbing near his stomach, you're not sure how you could have ever forgotten.

- "Take me then, babydoll" and he does, large hands encompassing your hips as he guides you to sit on his dick, slowly letting it enter and let you get accustomed, "there you go, nice and - fucking tight" Brett murmurs, voice deeper and getting you more riled up than you know what to do with. You had seen him bare plenty of times, but never fully, and the experience was doing you wonders right now as you rested for a moment and let him breathe before you started bouncing on him and making him cum way earlier than you know he'd like. You'd enjoy it anyway.

- He whines after a few moments, his hips shifting and making you both groan, his head falling back into the pillows and his fair falling into disarray, strands of auburn and reddish brown falling into his forehead. "Please, just fuck me, have me I just need you." Brett whines into your neck again, no tears this time as his arms wrap tautly around your form, allowing you to feel divinely sculpted muscles hold you tight and made your walls clench, relishing in his squeaking moan. You'd break him. good thing you know how to put him back together. "Easy baby, I've got you." you murmur, smoothing back his hair before you lower to your haunches and lift your hips, slamming back down and sending him yelling your name while biting his teeth into your shoulder.

- Oh yes, you were absolutely going to break him.

- You fuck yourself on him, feeling his hands grip and drag across your body as you use him, rolling your hips in shapes, occasionally spelling his name out through your gyrations and smiling to yourself as you watch him fall further and further into a mess, hair mussed, mouth agape and eyes tight shut. The skin of his lip is nearly broken open from how much he's bitten and tugged on it, puffy and reddened on his flushed and freckled face. Brett rises and clings back onto you, suddenly shifting his hips and fucking up into you, letting you hear louder slaps of skin against skin while he manhandles you. "M'gonna' cum, gotta' cum can I please cum — I wanna cum so bad, please." he begs, planting kisses at your collarbone and pulse sporadically between broken moans and pants.

- You never expected the reaction nor your own, unable to fight the feeling emanating from your soaked and silken cunt as he fucks up into it, stretching you wide in a way you'll never be tired of. "You can cum, go on and fill me, Brett, wanna' feel you for days. Please Brett, make me feel good." your boy delivers, jackhammering into you and making you cry out, tugging at his hair while his hands plant themselves at your waist in order to maneuver you around, biting deep at your shoulder when he cums with a broken, shattered shout of your name.

- The way his hips stutter in that frantic pattern, battering your cunt that has you squirming and grinding, you cum rapidly and heavily, whiting out and feeling your surroundings blur to nothing as you repeat his name over and over, clawing down his back as he slows and finally stops, holding you impossibly close. You take longer than he does recover and return to the world, head lolled back and breathing heavy, allowing brett to lay the two of you down and upon the pillows, wrestling the comfort and sheets over your sweat-slicked body and his.

- He always wanted to be a part of your life, and now, years later, he can't stop smiling and hasn't stopped since. Your silly, smiling ragdoll of a husband.

Andre Lee: W E R E WO L F

• song: Howlin’ for You - The Black Keys

- Andre was superficially open, not talking of more intimate aspects of his life but being carelessly free with the rest, and the personal factoids and tidbits emerge in passing comments in conversation send your brain whirling.

- he’s never answered any of your questions as to why he avoids full moons or why he’s unreachable during some times of the month, closest you’ve gotten was Myc cracking a joke about menstruation but you know damn well from a fuck ton of personal experience that he’s absolutely packing heat.

- he’d been sick the past few days, not fully present in meetings and a bit light headed. It got shrugged off as side effects from any number of drugs but you knew better. The disregard and dismissals that came from him when you showed concern were what made that worry and concern grow, manifesting and sprawling into a thorny expanse of knots tugging at your conscious, fixated on helping him.

- so you stand before an older home, 1920’s brick masonry hidden behind modern day paint, sidled beside the other brownstones on the block and fish out your key on the chain he gifted you, a little cartoonish duck smiling brightly while flipping you off, and turn the series of locks in the door while balancing some takeout on the other side.

- after several moments, you make it inside and lock back up, setting your keys alongside Andre’s in the bowl near the door and spotting the matching fuck duck keychain and smiling before making your way through the house, easily navigating through the darkness and making it to the kitchen to drop off some takeout for the egg drop soup he always ordered when sick. “Andre?” You get no response, the house quiet and your brows furrow while your lips purse, that worry unfolding again, “sugar? Where are you?” You get no response and your words echo in the house

- you get no response but you hear a groan, muffled and heady, soft and barely heard. But it’s his, and you drop everything in your hands upon the counter and follow the sound, brain a slurry of what ifs and remembering his medical history should you need it. By the time you make it back further in the house and to his bedroom, the doors locked shut. Real shut. You knock harshly and call to him, voice a bit desperate “Andre honey, you okay?”

- “go away.” It’s him, but not, deeper and meaner that the Andre you’re used to. It’s not a deterrent. “Not if you’re not okay, let me in.” You try the doorknob again and he shouts out “it’s not safe for you right now, go away.” He says more but you don’t hear it through the door. “What do you mean it’s not safe, Andre let me in.” you cry back, banging the side of a fist against the door, beating it loudly trying to persuade him to let you in. Probably not the most convincing manner.

- “GO! You’re not supposed to be here, m’gonna hurt you.” confusion could not even begin to explain what was going through your head, throat taut with fear, “Andre, I could give a fuck, I’m not leaving you like this.” He’s pleading in a sad rage, like a storm with no lightning, all thunder, “I don’t want t’hurt you, please, please just go.” You refuse, and say the same before you break the lock on the door then try and come in, not getting through until you back up and ram a shoulder into it once, twice, finally busting it on the third impact.

- he had warned you for good reason, and the yellow eyes that meet your gaze from a huddled, shadowed corner solidify that. “Should’ve run.” comes murky from him, his mouth moving oddly and you realize with horror he’s not in his regular body. It’s a larger, hulking form of shaggy fur in muted brown and chestnut hues, dusted with black and grey into a slurry of fur. A fucking wolfman was not on your list. “Werewolf?”

- “Yeah.”

- “Considering our jobs — this isn’t all too horrifying.” He bares his teeth, canines glinting, “I take that back — somewhat.” Andre chuckles, darker but remains curled in on himself in the corner of the room, staying far away from you. “Why am I not supposed to be here sugar?” You ask softly, stepping hesitantly further into the room and eyeing him warily, unsure about the entirety of this situation and wishing Elliot fucking Mothman had better-prepped staff for other forms of cryptids.

- “‘cause I’ll fuck y’ and I won’t stop.” He growls out, nails digging into knees bare of clothing and covered in fur, “not safe f’you, I could hurt you.” He doesn’t meet your eyes this time, eyes turned away and trying to shrink as far as possible into the corner, wanting to keep you at bay before his senses and instincts took over and took you. Andre doesn’t see you, but he feels you in the room. The way you smell and he puffs of breath, the thud of your heart.

- so he immediately clocks the second your pulse races at his words and how your heart flutters, along with your cunt. Andres eyes snap back to you just in time to see a shy but sensual smile on your lips. “What if I want you to hurt me?” Is what he hears from your lips, and he forces himself to sit still, ignore the erection against his thigh and the urge to fuck you until your womb got stuffed to the brim and he got you knocked up. “You better mean that.”

- “oh,” you strip yourself of your shirt and other clothes swiftly, like a subtle strip tease but far smoother and graceful than anticipated, “I mean it. Show me how much you love me sugar, I can take it.” You walk over to the bed on the other side of the room, curling up against the pillows and grin, spreading your legs and exposing the entirety of yourself, eager to mark off this box on your sexlist checklist. “Fucking better.” Is what Andre responds with, rising slowly and missing the tall ceiling by merely a foot, taking his gangly form towards the bed and closing his eyes, sniffing visibly and having his body falter, your scent encompassing any logic he had left.

- “look at that,” he chitters, teeth making his grin a bit more daunting, “already spread for me. Cute. Now turn around.” Andre orders, lurking before the bed as you shift, resting on your folded forearms and raising your ass in the air. “Good,” he praises, a hand grazing your arched waist while he settles behind you, “couldn’t follow orders earlier, but that’s just because you were worried, hm? Going to be good f’me now. I know it.” Andre settles himself on his knees behind you, arms planted on either side of your torso and he leans atop you, breath fanning your ear as he teases you, makes the eager nerves alight as goosebumps trail across your bare, vulnerable form.

- “gonna’ let me fuck you? Let me bury my cock in your pretty cunt over and over until there’s nothing left in you but me?” He muses, erection tapping at your ass and feeling much heavier than what you’re used to. You hum, trusting him to take care of you and fuck you right. “Mhm, let you stuff me like a fuckin’ brood mare, now please, c’mon and fuck me Andre.” He swats your ass with his hand, watching the fat of it jiggle and your waist bend high, “don’t have to tell me twice.”

- You bite back a few comments the second he brushes his flared, sloped cockhead into the opening of your cunt, the tip alone bringing a stretch of pain. Burying your head in the pillows around your forearms, you mewl and whimper aloud tossing both your head and your ass back. Andre’s one hand is beside your torso to plant himself while the other is on your hip, guiding your hips back towards him so he can slowly enter and sink his cock into you. "Atta' babe" he croons, breath fanning across your back in a way that makes your spine tingle.

- He lets out a whine that huffs hot air across your spine, sinking in his cock as much as your cunt can fit, several inches still untended to between where the two of you meet. His balls brush your clit when he bottoms out, and he stills, Andre's restless lungs beating his chest into your back and you can feel him through and through. "Fuck, tight little cunt, gonna' fucking break it." Andre groans low and heady as he begins to rock back and forth, in a humping motion that sends his balls smacking into your clit with little pats, making you grateful a hand now plays underside and holds your belly while the other holds him up, your body on the precipice of collapse with the angle, the feeling, all of it.

- "fucking stuff me," you blurt, pathetically trying to rock your hips back into his and you cry out each time, bulbous cockhead nudging your cervix with each shift, feeling him in your guts, "breed me full, knock me up." These were words you had used previously during sex with him, the concept not being new, only to the situation at hand. With Andre being fueled by rampant urges and instincts, barely holding on, your words were like an on-switch that sends him immediately pressing you into the bed and snapping his hips roughly, snarling. into the skin of your neck like he's on a mission, and in a way, he is. Meant to mate.

- "ah, oh fuck, Andre." you keep crying out his name between crying out incoherencies, encompassed by the way he absolutely fucked the breath from your lungs, knocking everything out of you and then drawing it back in just as he slots in, and out of your drenched, dripping cunt, slick now sprawling from his dick and balls, your thighs, to the torn and tossed sheets beneath. There's a fleeting, barely conscious thought of now knowing why sex was called the beast with two backs, the words of Othello never even a full thought as you get plowed from behind.

- oh yeah, you were never going to leave him to deal with a full moon alone, not if this is what your good deeds and diligence get you - being bent over like a broodmare and fucked like it's a need to survive, to breathe. You are livin' good.

- "taking me so damn well, gonna' pump you full, fill you over and over until others no space inside that I haven't covered." he rambles, hurried and frenzied and deep in pitch, snapping his hips rapidly as the sound of skin slapping melts into a blur with the heavy pants and breaths, the snarls and moans and groans the two of you let out, animalistic and primal, fucking elite and top tier in your honest, raw-dogged opinion. "Gonna' give you a child, claim this fucking pussy, all of it, s'all mine."

- You groan out, burying your head in your forearms and feeling his weight atop you, the way he keeps bullying his giant dick into you and fucking you apart, working you like dough in the way he works you over. "Like that? Like me marking you up, being Andre's breeding bitch?" he snarls, sounding so potent in your ear where his head hovers, splayed across your back while his hips do the work.

-"Just feel that," he murmurs, hand pressing into the fat of your belly to press against where he thrusts into you, making you squeal into the pillows as he shows off, his demeanor so contrasting than how he usually is, even in a raging fuck, "gonna' fill you to the brim, baby, already stretching you wide. Belly full of me."

- "God, please — fuck," you're babbling, fucked out and quote literally drooling upon your forearms and the pillows holding your head up, as backing into his thrusts and mewling with the brush of his balls against your clit, everything wet and sloppy, "wanna' be bred, wanna' be yours — I wanna' be yours." Andre lets out snarling laughs, darker than abyssal skies, into your shoulder blades which he litters with nips and bites of sharp teeth, little pinpricks adding to the utter euphoria of getting absolutely pounded.

- "gonna cum, arent'ya?" he drawls, leaning to huff through his nose near your ear and you smell him, sex and musk and earthy amber, you wanna drown in it. "Go on, soak this cock so I can fuck you stupid." It takes a few thrusts later, but you do and you absolutely blackout, the world turning into a white canvas that slowly lifts as you feel Andre fucking into you, pace hurried and faltering as he babbles rapidly, stitching together curses and praise like an ornamental garland.

- Cum is absolutely pouring at that point, rivulets stuck in smears across your ass and thighs, drenching his balls and making them smack wetly against the mouth of your cunt. He's come already at least twice by the load of it and is working on a third orgasm that makes your ass ripple with the force behind his thrusts. "All mine, no one gets to see this, have this, my pretty mate." he's talking to just himself at this point, assuring insecurities while nearly fucking you through the mattress, hell it's a miracle the bedframe hasn't broken. Or the wall.

- You whimper and moan weakly, just taking it at this point because all you feel in your bones is the warmth of orgasmic bliss, full lethargy and no intent to move, feeling so sated and tender than you could simply pass away with a beaming, I just had sex grin that would out do anyone else's, besides Andre's. What plucks the strings of reality a bit is a moment his teeth latch onto your shoulder, marking rows of teeth into a bite marking you as his. He fucks you through it, coming with a shout of your name that is more of a gravelly howl than anything, cum literally flooding your cunt and dripping down everywhere, making a mess of everything.

- Andre's near whimpering, fucking into you weakly while his erection softens inside you, laying on top of your form before wrapping his arms around and having you both shift onto your sides, him spooning your considerably smaller form in his considerably sized state, completely enveloping you in his hold, warmth, and love, soothing your fucked-out and pumped-full state onto the precipice of slumber.

- "M'love you." he mutters into your neck, nuzzling against your pulse as his arms coil around your belly, ensuring you stay in his arms and snug around his dick, "love you too." is what you reply, sounding not like your own voice in the exhausted, airy lilt. It's the last thing you remember before being woken up in the morning to an apologetic and scruffy Andre, back to normal with a plate of breakfast in hand.

- "Andre, honey, we are definitely going to be doing that again."

Robotus Alpha-Beta: D E M O N

• songs: Devil’s Advocate - The Neighborhood or Have A Cigar - Pink Floyd

• fanart: by @olexxx right here

- you’re desperate, and tired of calling after things in the light and day that don’t answer. You now call out for and beg for something from the night, standing in the crossroads with a box of offerings in your hands and a plea so heavy on your tongue it weighs you down like an anchor to a boat, dividing the seas currents in cleaverlike strokes. Crying out into the night, screaming for an answer, yelling out that you’ve done the right things brought the right stuff, made the right calls, you’re frustrated and distressed in the middle of this night, clad in clothing that the wind whips around your form, slinky against your chest and thighs. You’re a vision of desperation in this witching hour, and who would he be to deny your broken-hearted, bargaining pleas?

- “mighty pathetic looking, aren’t you, pretty thing.” He strolls out from the tree line, hands in his pockets of the seersucker suit he wears, hiding his eyes in the shadows while he meanders his way over dirt path and dandelions, plants dying in the markers where his footprints lay. “Pray tell, what brings you to my spacious lay of the woods?” He drones, and you’re too consumed in your own ordeals to fully analyze his appearance and demeanor, ready to bargain and barter down to the bones should it go that far.

- “I just wanna’ deal. That’s all.” You start, laying the tin box down on the ground between the two of you where you stand in the clay dirt and ash of the crossroad, pitch black sans the one flickering, sad looking streetlamp. “What will you take for sparing someone’s life?” Is what comes from your lips next, and he’s almost surprised at the dedication you show in selflessness, musing to himself in the ongoing internal dialogue that you should get one of those flimsy gold stars.

- “Depends on a lot my dear,” the demon drawls, hands gesturing in a manner that reminds you of evangelical television preachers or cable game show hosts, “who am I curing and what ails your beloved patient?” He picks the dirt from his fingernails and you wish you pry out the nails from that tin box you got from a coffin, and force them one by one into his skull for his nonchalance, his disinterest in a deal that meant more than the world to you.

- “my friend, she’s sick. Cancer. I want her cured and for her to live a healthy life and die naturally of old age. What will you accept in exchange?” You’re direct, straight and to the point, shoulders squared and eyes flint and steel, fire flickering in the shards of your irises. Refusing to let him abuse a loophole, you’ve stressed every requirement and plan — ramming the nails in straight. “Straight to the point, I like that.” He drawls, crooked grin smarmy and slimy in the snake oil style, making you envision car dealerships and the price is right but shrouded in brimstone and fire. “The question isn’t what I’ll ask of you, but what you’re willing to offer, dear.”

- he claps his hands together, a MontBlanc pen appearing in his hand and a weathered paper, looking older than your entire bloodline in the way it looks like if the wind blew a fraction harsher, it’d disintegrate. “Alright pet, lay your offers on the table and I’ll see what I’ll accept — but remember,” the demon before you with sky blue eyes pauses, looking like a walking business advert with his suit and tie, shiny cufflinks and a glittering Patek Philippe watch, “no promises.”

- you bite back the myriad of things you’d like to say to this bastard in human flesh-trimmings, but you need your friend more than anything. She’s your world. You’d give your own up for her, and you plan to do exactly that. “My entire self —“ he raises his brows, lips splitting into an amused grin and attempts to interrupt, but you wave a hand and fix him a look, the don’t fuck with me while I’m talking stare, “for part of the week, for the rest of my natural, long and healthy life. You’ll get Tuesday through Thursday, and I will be free to do what I wish the remainder of the week, every week. Sans holidays which I get to myself.”

- he’s still smiling as if it’s within the job application but looks about as pained as if he’s suddenly contracted a bout of irritable bowel syndrome. “And you’re completely mine the entirety of those three days, the full 72 hours?” You nod, face as polished as stone, equally as cold and ungiving. Hes never encountered a wayward soul like yours. Intrigue mars his mind more that he’d care to admit, but it makes the results of bartering so much better. “We have a deal then.”

- he scrawls in loopy old fashioned cursive, slanted and sloped in a manner that reminds you of history class, and fills in the blanks of his document signing your life away to him. He flattens the paper, then signs it himself and hands it to you to sign as well. You spot the larger A and B initials, shortened to AB, but can’t make out the last name, only the large R and the mussed squiggles behind it. Doctorish scrawl, hasty and impatient.

- you sign your signature and life away, not regretting it the instant you get a series of texts from your friend, her energy and liveliness returning in an instant. You pocket your phone then get dragged forward by the elbows, calloused fingertips and softened palms cup your cheeks before drawing you into a fleeting kiss. He pulls away and before you can act, he vanishes in a cloud of ash and dust, the contract within your grip and an emptied tin box at your feet. A kiss to seal the deal.

- you don’t see him until the next week, spending your time with your loved ones and with your best friend, cherishing and relishing in how she’s safe and healthy again and she would always be. The chime of reality rings twelve times, the man appearing in a click of loafers against the tile floors outside your apartment and wraps of his knuckles against the front door, coming to collect you. You’re alone and have been, making sure to be in the comfort of solitude once your first day as a demon’s bitch begins. AB opens the door and strolls in, hands in the pockets of some pinstripe slacks and a chain dangling from near his hand to a slim pocket on his suit vest, thin white stripes against navy fabric making his already tall form elongate.

- the demon struts in with the casual air of devil-may-care, eyes like a cats in how they’re languid but attentive, drawing everything in and sitting until something interesting pulls his direct attention forth. “Quite a home you’ve got here, just you?” AB muses, sauntering with the air of a spoiled house cat. “Yes, just me, now can we get on with whatever you have entailed for my next 72 hours, the suspense Y’know, got me absolutely hooked.” You respond, end of your sentence dripping in sarcasm like a freshly immersed pen nib into an inkwell and equally as dark.

- “impatient too, aren’t you just a bag of tricks,” he muses, lulling and faux cadence in a demon's silver tongue taste, “all in due time. Best to wait and see you squirm.” AB stands before a bookcase, fingertips tapping along spines of books then dusting over a picture frame with your friend, weary Polaroids paling in comparison to this snapshot of her and you several years ago, faces lit in the warmth of lanterns in summer sunset. He holds it longer than he’d deem appropriate, and he doesn’t seem to care or know why.

- “are you always this articulate or does it come with the Armani suit?” You snap, knee bouncing as you sit on the couch, lips chapped from how frequently you’ve gnawed on them in your nervous state, wanting to lose your sanity but unfortunately finding yourself incredibly lucid and stable. Against all odds. “Naturally, pretty thing, some creatures possess decorum and manners — I see you speak from inexperience.” He teases, setting the frame down and wiping his hands on his slacks, adjusting the cufflinks that glitter with initials laid in obsidian and platinum.

- He continues speaking, giving you no opening once more to speak or further deride the demon before you, meandering about your home as if he was not just showing the place, but was trying to sell it as a realtor and making the process as painfully personal as possible. "Do you have a tendency to get squeamish or easily frightened?" "I doubt it, due to how there's a demon I'm casually conversing with, so I'm going to have to say no."

- He chuckles darkly, and you see a glimmer in those glacier eyes of something far colder, and you mark it down for later. "Clever, but such a costly trait. Mind your tongue." You sit and take it in stride, having been braced for an overgrown petulant toddler playing around in daddy's suits. "Since you're being so patient," he mocks, he rolls his sleeves to the forearms after shucking off his jacket and snapping it away in a move that makes you think of hammerspace, "we'll get started. You are to shadow me as I go about dealing. Mind your tongue, presence, and entire demeanor. You are here to help me, gain insight on a modern human mind and soul, not to aid anyone but me due to how I control something far greater than your own life."

- He doesn't hesitate to gut you in the way you've been hung out to dry, hollowed like a side of beef swinging from a hook in a walk-in freezer, dripping onto a frozen floor in tandem with your bravado slipping. AB glances over your expression and smiles, childish and juvenile in a charming, redeemable fratboy sort of way. "Alrighty, now let's get you started."

- and with a snap of his fingers, the two of you began the first day of deals. It flew by, as they all would, you watching from the sidelines or removed from sight to watch as a deal went down. You could clock the bastards who were overly cocky, thinking they could outsmart someone so much older than them it was like the universe looking upon Earth's moon. Planet to sand grains. Pathetic - no match.

- the souls would fade one by one and you would spend your hours prior to the deal observing them from the outskirts in strangers behaviors, deception now a part of your ensemble in equal to your rings or shirt. "Did you observe me before we struck my deal?" you had asked later on in the duration of your servitude, roughly a year into your partial work weeks under the eye and lens of the demon. He laughed, a chiding yet lilting sound that resembled when storm clouds rumbled when the sun still shone, "Oh absolutely I did, my dear, quite entertaining and almost heartwrenching the way you went about your plans. Absolutely precious."

- AB speaks over his cocktail, Pappy Van Winkle bourbon dark and syrupy in the basin of his Waterford crystal glass, sliding about the thick ice cube like molasses, "I will say you have been the most entertaining of my companions in a long time." The way he says it lingers and you assume it's longer than you could perceive, centuries being seconds to the being beside you. It is a fleeting moment of wistfulness before he clocks his newest wayward soul and stalks forward, running a hand through his hair and barely messing his strands up, the greying streaks in his auburn hair falling upon his forehead like a staged motion, queued up to go for a movie scene.

- You tried not to watch more than you needed to when having to help him with his deals, but this time in the low light of a seedy corner alley bar, he glittered like the cufflinks he always wore. Dark obsidian and platinum, simple yet something so potent about it resembled him. If you hadn't sold your life away to the entity, he'd resemble a side character from American Psycho, far too charming to make it into the main role. It was harder to hate him than how he looked, the manner in which you dealt your days away gave you your friend back and a more stable life, albeit the hellish tasks.

- You didn't quite care for how much you cared for him, why you get enamored with him and all that he encompassed. It was disastrous and bordering a Stockholm syndrome, or at least that's what you told yourself when indulging in ice cream and childhood movies. What worsened your situation was an event that occurred in your off hours, out with friends and enjoying yourself in a night of freedom and levity. It went wrong, as you assumed it could, but had not expected the situation to unfold as it had nor the end result to your night.

- "I still don't understand, you crushing on your boss? Understandable, not doing shit about it, perplexes the fuck outta' me." Rory, a friend from high school mentions and brought a series of laughs from your booth at the club. "It's improper-" You're suddenly cut off. "Since when did you ever give a shit about proper?" another friend chimes in, and you sigh before downing the remnants of the drink before you. You get up, go to the bar to get a drink and avoid the terrible topic along with trying to escape the environment altogether. It's not your scene, too loud and overwhelming. It gets even worse after the initial sips of your drink when the world turns hazy and you don't know where you're going, nor whos leading you away.

- "Move them this way, out of the light - there, I told you no one was going to find us here." one of the two figures surrounding your hazy, barely conscious form voices, the other laughing along as they work at your shirt before a dark laugh comes from the opening of the alley, and a glint of polished silver meets the glare of a streetlamp. Its something out of a noir film but you're relieved when you hear his voice, trying to sit up and failing. His name falls from your lips, faint and sad sounding, and his glacier eyes melt away into a darkness never seen before even in the furthest of depths within the oceans.

- It takes no time for him to dispatch the two who had drugged you, the rage pouring off of him in waves you can almost see, even in your bleary state. It's as if someone coated your brain in a fog and dipped it in some liquid nitrogen. "Oh, pretty thing, what have they done to you." is what he says when he crouches near your form, bloodstained but almost holy, a savior without wings. You try and answer but he shushes you, lifting you into his arms securely with the strength beneath his tall, barrel-chested form. The two of you dissipate from the alley and leave behind blood trails no one will find, bodies gone as well to languish on hooks in rings of hellfire AB will personally see to.

- The next thing you recall after being saved up in his arms is waking in a bed far too luxurious to be your own, and enveloped in silky sheets and even silkier pajamas, deep navy blue wrapped around your form so comfortably you just snuggle back into the pillows before you fully wake to reality with a start, remembering what almost happened and sitting up, flying out of bed and wandering out to figure out where the fuck you were.

- "there you are, dear, feeling okay?" is what greats you, AB sitting at a couch reading from a book that once again looks more ancient than your entire bloodline, genuine concern feeding into his expression and making you blink, sleep still laden in your heavy eyelids begging you to go back to sleep. "You saved me." he shrugs off your comment, rising to meet your form in the doorway and taking you by the shoulders, trying to turn you around back into the bed you left. "Go on to bed, I'll bring you something-" he fixes you a look, "its an order, go rest. Your loved ones know you're safe and sound. Now, bed."

- You fall back asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, and the next time you wake there's a change of clothes on a chair near the bed, a plate of food on the nightstand, and a pitcher of water with clean glasses readily available. In no rush, you take your time eating and then getting ready before padding barefoot out into the home you find yourself in, spotting AB finally in a kitchen you'd drool over in an issue of Architectural Digest. "There you are, rested?" you nod, cupping your glass of water in your hands and seating yourself down at a barstool beside the kitchen island, glancing around at the sprawling chef's kitchen, "they've been taken care of." AB trails off, in a casual button-down and slacks, leaning against the countertop with his arms crossed over his chest, taking a second before he looks over at you with steely, ice eyes.

- "No harm will ever come to you." your brows furrow at that, wondering why he would care so much about a person he literally owns. You voice it out loud and he guffaws, looking at you incredulously as if the answer was always there, and in a way, it had been. "Dear, you're mine. Contract bound and now, by design. No one ever lays a hand on you let alone exists a second afterwards." The glass in your hand is set down and you lean back in your chair, staring at him and wondering if the entirety of the past months of partnership you were not the lone one pining. He validates it when he approaches and falters, warming once you breach the gap and take his hand into your smaller one.

- You finally break, grasping for him and hugging him close as his bulkier form bends to hold you, knees bent in order to acclimate to your seated position. He rubs your back as you shudder and shake, warm broad hands soothing you down and facing you until he kneels and looks up at you. "I promise you, you're safe." and you want to say you believe him, but you still don't feel it, just take his hand off your knee and imbed it into your heart so he can feel how it beats, how the fear creeps into your lungs like an infection. there's no need, for he cups your cheek and tilts your chin to meet his gaze. Then it's over.

- the waiting ends, and he kisses you, tender and delicate and something so utterly unlike him that it takes you aback, almost slack-jawed for a millisecond before you realize it's him kissing you and you relish in it, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him closer until he's caged you in, safe from harm. He groans, and you part your legs at the sound, letting him fully press against you in the chair and wrap around you. "My pretty thing." AB groans against your lips, and you whimper at the sound of it so broken on his tongue, so different than the calculated and meticulous tone he took.

- "Prove it" is what flies from your lips as you bite his, feeling him grin darkly against your mouth as he lifts you into his, different from the bridal carry form the other night with how he hefts a handful of your ass into his palms while your legs wrap around his waist while he carries you into the other room. "Gladly." is whispered once he deposits you into a lavish dark bed, his own, and strips himself of his shirt and bares a chest scattered in auburn hair matching in grey streaks like his head, making you wonder about what lies lower.

- He doesn't make you wait long, and he strips himself of his boxers and pants, planting himself above you and grinning at how you observe his body and movements, letting you gasp in surprise once he lets a shudder roll through and some red markings reveal themselves, cuffs and bands of red marks paired with inscriptions of languages so old they outdated writing itself. You trace a few as he undresses you, mouth over them lavishly and kiss them tenderly, trying to show and give all the love you can to make up for what he's missed.

- "Never going to let anyone touch you," he murmurs, breathless against your skin as if he's the one rendered weak before you, "only mine, m'all yours. Gonna' keep you safe and sound." AB's wrecked already and he's hardly touched you let alone himself, the evidence leaking and resting heavily upon your now bare thigh. You feel not just safe and content, but powerful and hungry, greedy for what lies within arms reach. You get granted a freedom in his presence finally, and you take every step in stride.

- "All mine," purrs your voice in his ear, tugging on auburn locks and feeling your body thrum like musical cords when he groans low and deep, reverberating from a barrel chest that covers your form, "going to make me feel good? Treat me right, make a mess of me? Show me just how much you actually care and that I'll always be yours? Go ahead, AB, give me your all."

- "All?" he growls darkly against the column of your throat, nearly snarling if it wasn't for the pleased smirk present with teeth with slight points, "oh dearest, ask for more, don't you know I'd give you everything?" he murmurs low stripping you fully bare and letting rough and calloused palms from another lifetime's work wander your body, mapping out your skin like a cartographer. At that moment the words were euphoric enough, but his hips grinding against yours until he slotted against your weeping cunt was the emphasis to your already wavering body, the final blow to your grip on reality. Oh, what a plunge it was.

- AB rocks against you, forehead knelt down against your collarbone in a piousness akin to prayer and nudges his swollen cock against your cunt, hips grinding once, twice, before he slides into you and fills you. It's a stretch that makes you cry out, nails embedded in his skin near his markings as you whimper and cry out his name. Your chest squirms and your hips remain stilled, his broad hands encompassing your hips as he does so. With his head against your shoulder, he gets to see himself disappear into your slick-soaked pussy, and the sight is too moving for his eyes to handle. Thumbs bruise your hipbones while he stills then asks you questions he repeats several times before you process them, already hazy and fucked out and he hadn't even actually fucked you yet.

- "May I move?" your body reacted before you could even form a response, legs shifting so you can take him in deeper and fuck up back onto him, nearly squealing out as you feel him absolutely stuff your cunt, walls clenching and sending the both of you into a hurried frenzy. "There's your answer." you bite, literally and figuratively as your teeth sink into his ear. His hips stutter and you smirk, so proud of yourself before locking your legs and rolling him beneath you, still seated on his cock but now residing on top, beaming down at him with your hands planted on his marked, hair-covered chest.

- You don't even warn him before you slam your hips down, relishing in how he jolts and buckles, eyes shutting then opening back up, so torn between the feel of you and how you look, an angel of his own making seated above him and using him like a throne, getting yourself off and being nothing short of resplendent. AB thrusts his hips up to meet your grinds and ministrations, one hand splayed across your ribcage while the other snakes down to rub at your clit, beaming with pride when he feels you shudder and falter.

- "You're so pretty." comes broken from the demon beneath you, reduced to merely a man with the way you use him, treat him, love him and fuck him all at once, centuries worth of longing packed away emerging forth into glacier eyes now as warm as spring skies, and the look he gives you sends you over the edge as a crushing blow. He catches you, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you as the orgasmic, earth-shattering waves take you under. He anchors you, falteringly weak thrusts getting him to where you are in seconds, cumming and stuffing you full with a cracking groan against your heated flesh.

- He holds you, sitting upright with his arms wound around your torso and holding tight, hands splayed across your back and side as your head nestles into the crook of his, nose at his pulse and smelling hints of rosemary and bergamot and ash, and you burrow closer, wanting to sink into him like bed, he's more comforting than down comforters and pillows anyhow. It takes a while before the witness behind your eyes fades, his humming being what plucks you forth from an orgasmic abyss and you smile against his skin, soaking up the silence and him breaking it.

- "About that contract-" you joke, and AB laughs breathlessly before turning to you with a devious smirk, hands wandering and eliciting a squeaking moan from your lips, "I think I'd be open to renogiation." he murmurs, breath fanning across your mouth before your lips meet his and he hums, licking into your mouth and staking claim to it just as he had you.

Magic Myc: Z O M B I E

• song: Under My Skin - Jukebox The Ghost

- You'd been there when Myc's dead body got carted in. There were more people making jokes, cruelly grateful for his absence compared to the small group that actually missed him, and mourned him. And you were one of the very few who loved him enough to grieve his loss in such a manner it would even overpower the longing of the moon should it ever lose the sun and stars.

- He wasn't everyone's taste, hell, he was barely your taste. But you still loved him anyway and trying to work, eat, and live without him got harder and harder since he got eradicated from your life as swiftly as one strikes down a cleaver against a cutting board, final, irreversible. Permanent.

- You had thankfully been granted leave, getting enough pitying looks to send you to the comforts of home only to realize that home made it worse. All his things were there, little knickknacks and gag gifts Myc had gathered over the years, polaroids taped to the walls with glimpses of misadventures. One that gutted you the most was a picture of you, Andre, and Myc, the two of you smiling wide while Myc lifted the two of you up for the picture, all flipping off the camera and laughing like hyenas.

- Andre had been a rock of support, the two of you leaning on each other to cope and work through the loss, not knowing how to handle the loss, Andre losing a best friend and you losing a lover. It crushed you, the chasm of grief and depression consuming you whole, entangling your ankles and dragging you down in the depths like being snared in a siren's trap.

- the point where you broke down wholly and entirely, letting out ugly cries with the snot and tear tracks, getting puffy with reddened eyes in the freedom of your home. A formerly shared home is now all yours. The brownstone mocked you, once an inviting and fun space now too bright and whimsical to be fitting for one mourning a lover. A friend. A soulmate.

- in the midst of your breakdown and rattling full-body tremors, you don't hear the back door locks slowly turn one by one, the keys only belonging to one person, long dead. You don't hear something entering your home and locking back up, in the perfectly redundant routine that belonged to an everyday pattern. You don't hear Myc return into your life because you're too busy crying about him leaving it.

- "I leave for five seconds and you've already gone batshit - damn and I thought I had problems" his voice startles you, making you nearly fall off of the couch when you whip your head around to stare at him, eyes wide and mouth agape in disbelief. "You're not real." is the first thing you utter, terrified to move in case the illusion your grief-wracked mind conjured would dissipate and vanish, leaving you alone in your loss and the empty house, pathetic and sad enough to best a wet kitten.

- "You'd think that, but here I am, alive and unwell." Myc responds, sarcasm prominent but still an underlying fond tone only belonging to him comes out. It's rougher, dirtier almost in a backroad gravel kind of way like his vocal cords got tossed through a concrete mixer. "Gonna' say hello or what?" he teases, gesturing with a tendril or two and extending them, wanting a hug from his favorite person. You practically leap over the back of the couch in an effort to reach him, launching yourself into his body and nestling your head on the underside of the mushroom cap, feeling fanning gills brush the top of your head in addition to the bulbous partial veil that glows and humms against your head.

- He still smells like earth and musk, pollen and petals. and weed, and you've never been more relieved to smell the absolutely pungent aroma of weed in your life, laughing while you cry into where his neck would be. "You think I would just ditch you? No way, stuck with me for the rest of your little life, shitheel." Myc mutters, bumping your nose tenderly with a blunt nudge of a tendril, making your nose scrunch and a smile appear on your puffy, crying face.

- "wait, how are you even here?" you ask, leaning your head back enough to look at him in the dim light of your home, shadows cast over his form and hiding the majority of it sans little segments and divots of bioluminescence and ornate patterns. "You died Myc, how in the fuck are you even alive?"

- he doesn't immediately answer, and you step back to pace with a hand running down your face, immediately ranting and getting wrapped up in the concept of Cognito Inc. doing another stupid and silly science project without considering ramifications and wondering just how this will blow up once more when it concerns the love of your life, Myc.

- when he's remained silent, not saying a word in the midst of your rant about Reagan and how she's got to stop playing god, you realize he hasn't said a word and turn to find him standing very still and looking down to his tentacles as if in deep thought. Worrying, consuming, deep thought.

- "I-," he starts, moving to turn in your direction, almost looking past you, or through you, making your anger fade as concern takes over, "I don't know."

- You haven't been this worried in a long, long time. "Honey, what do you mean you don't know?" Your concern multiplies, swarming nervous moths within the cage of a chest you have, fluttering in your ribcage and making your bones itch. "Myc, do you remember getting here?".

- the uncharacteristic silence speaks enough volumes to have filled a home library, making you send a few hurried texts to the gang group chat and ignoring the silly contact names in lieu of finding a solution to this as fast as possible and trying to keep Myc stable. You turn and flick a lamp on, unable to find reason in the darkness, and barely stop the scream that almost fled your throat.

- "I just wanted to see you, I don't know how I got here-" he pauses, unaware of the terror in your eyes and the tears welling along the seams of your lower lids, threatening to overflow with the sight of him, "I just wanted you."

- You wish you were crying for other reasons beyond the sight of him, maybe even some happy tears with how he came to you because he loves you, dragged his undead self all the way to your backdoor to you.

- You cry instead at the state of him, the chunks of flesh and tissue missing, the greenish ghastly hue to his surface, tears and gouges in places where his body's mass would fill. He is dead. undead technically, and in your shared home's living room sounding close to tears himself with how confused he sounds and you're just about to break down at how butchered he looks. He is yours, and he was supposed to be fine always. Why did this happen, and why to your Myc.

- He says your name, and it is so broken it doesn't suit him. Myc's a jovial, mocking asshole that makes you feel loved, even with pet names accompanied by curse words and expletives. You respond to a few more texts and enlist the help of Reagan and ask Andre and him to come immediately. You barely have the energy to continue standing, so you absolutely don't have the strength to deal with this alone.

- You gather him close, sitting the two of you down on the couch and just try and breathe, sit there with each other and pretend things will all be okay and wait in the meantime for Reagan and Andre to appear in order to get some ideas going on what to do or how to go about this entire situation, the others on standby and there for support should you need it. You've never been more thankful for the friends you have.

- "M'not going to leave you." Myc says, determination steady within his now weathered voice, as if it was skinned and tanned like an animal hide in the sun, "I don't wanna' go." Your hands grip him tighter as your fingertips trace over patterns and textures on his surface, humming a note against the light within his partial veil beneath the cap.

- "Nothing could take me from you, and I won't let anything take you from me either." is what you choose to comfort him with, knowing that humor was a strong suit and that comedy wasn't something to include just yet, reality to raw to disinfect with the sting of punchlines.

- Andre and Reagan soon arrive, disbelief covering their features the instant they enter the door and a litany of questions follow with Andre's tears as he and Myc hug, bubbly watery giggles erupting forth from both him and you at the relief. Reagan pokes and prods, then takes notes from what you could tell, and remains as confused as you are.

- after a while and many frustrating moments, the two leave back to their respective lives. Andre promises to come the next day and Reagan plans to run tests bright and early tomorrow. Nevertheless, the night is yours with him and the two of you alone. You try and make the best of it by familiarizing yourself with the way it felt to be enveloped with Myc, to feel those tendrils around your frame holding you close.

- and as with all things with Myc, it turned sexual suddenly and rapidly, making you appreciate his ease in removing you from a current situation with his attention, touch, and care. A gift tethered in mycelial networks and fungi.

- the two of you don't even make it to the bedroom, Myc being so eager to have you in any which way, he fucks you on the floor against the plush living room carpet, letting you know how thankful he is for your precious ass in his life (both literally and figuratively) as he fucks you to delirium.

- next thing you know, you have his voice in your ear while two tendrils splay your bare thighs open, tentacles notched in the crook of your knee and thigh as he pumps the tips of three appendages in and out of you, commenting and praising you for how slick you are and how welcoming your cunt is to him, like a homecoming once your greedy pussy sucks him in like even your spongy inner walls missed him.

- "god you're so fucking wet, all for me right? getting all gushy and messy for me only." his words hit just the right buttons, perched and murmured right beside your ear as he thrums, twisting the tips of his appendages within you and barely showing signs of him being affected. The two little tendrils that have collected droplets of slick tease and prod at your ass, occasionally breaching the tight ring of muscle and allowing Myc the pleasure of hearing that broken, higher pitched cry you moaned out with his name on your tongue, grinding into his ministrations and begging for more.

- "mhmm, all for you Mikey," you moan softly, brokenly, in a way so soft it competes against battered butterfly wings, "all yours, always yours, even m'pussy." He laughs, fucking you harder at that like a reward, groaning happily and letting the waves of pleasure spread rather than him holding back and halting his own enjoyment. Now he can fuck you.

- “damn fucking straight.” He curses, fucking you with earnest while he sits behind you, feeling flush and warm while he feels you tense and clench around him. Then follow suit once he breaches your ass, fucking into you shallowly and slowly there, easing himself in and loving the way your jaw falls slack and your hips seem to have a mind of their own. You prop your feet at an angle and use it to better fuck yourself on the makeshift cock and tendrils of Myc’s appendages, loving how you felt him in both holes and stuffed full, practically gushing around him and soaking the couch cushion beneath the two of you.

- good thing they’re washable.

-“all mine, always gonna’ be mine.” He mutters, movements stuttering as he nears orgasm but tries to hold out, “my baby gonna’ let me stuff them full? Until it leaks, hm?” You nod, voicing a yes against the skin of his closest to you and cry out once his tendrils brush at your cervix as you grind down and thrust back and forth against him.

- “please Myc, wanna’ cum, want your cum, want you to make me feel good.” You drawl in a plead, hands smoothing over him beneath you and sliding up and down his cock, reaching a hand to play with your clit until he smacks it away and replaces it with an appendage and shakily strokes and he gets closer to cumming. He shakes beneath you, Myc shuddering and stuttering once he voices his nearing euphoria.

- he cums, flooding your cunt and having it spill forth, pollock-like flecks of cum splattering your inner thighs and allowing you to slide better and take him in, cumming shortly after with a scream of his name and an orgasm that lasted nearly a solid minute, senses gone and world as white as fresh snowfall.

- there’s silence for a moment, your back resting against his front, tendrils not still inside you caressing and tending to your sweaty, tired body. “Hey, hon?” He draws you out of your reverie to turn to look at him, “pretty good for a dead man.”

- “fuck off, dear god.”

- Myc cackles and leans back into the couch cushions and pillows, and the joy that thrums in your heart soothes the ache of his death, loving him in any state, even when he’s being a little shit.

—Happy Halloween—

Tags: @cognitosclowns @radioactivebowtie @mollicutes @carnalcringe @bluebaronness @flyingspicerack

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brie-gaed · 1 year

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“I mean… I don’t mind if you take long fixing me…”

I love him … so much… *sobs*

So… it’s been a while…. *smokebombs and disappears after posting this*

#inside job #robotus #robotus alpha beta #robotus inside job #robotus x reader #inside job netflix #fanart #inside job fanart #inside job self insert #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #artwork #digital illustration #robotus is my husband #robotus babygirl <3 #animation

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swimmingcreatortyrant · 2 years

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system reboot

#inside job #robotus inside job #robotus alpha beta #x reader #digital art #my art #sketch #artist on tumblr

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jrandreal · 11 months

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Intro & Masterlist

Hey, I'm Diego! Welcome to my Inside Job Blog! I'm autistic and this show has captivated me in a time of struggle. I draw, write, theorize, and generally discuss the show. For writing, I mostly do x reader headcanons.

> Asks open! {Writing requests, art requests, comments, questions, & anything else. I love having a flooded inbox.}

Likes & follows from cocasoula.

Twitter - Instagram - YouTube

Theory Masterlist:

Ridley Diploma

Dietrich Kluge

Robe-O-Reagan

Writing Masterlist:

The gang (Everyone):

The gang realizing they have a crush on you

Rand:

Autistic reader immune to his abrasiveness

My art tag

My theory tag

My writing tag

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tokosparrow · 7 months

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i decided to quickly write this out before i went to bed so this is most definitely not proofread >_<

alpha-beta must have been built based on a cat, you swear he was, when the two of you would cuddle on the couch of your living room he’d make small grips and fidget his fingers onto your side as like cats would do when they’re making bread, and you swear his machinery sounds like small purrs when you press your ear into his chest.

youre even more convinced when he gets really grumpy when you dare to move to more comfortable position as he sleeps (does he sleep?? or is he just powered off?? it’s whatever :P)

“you’re kind of acting like a cat right now”

“i am absolutely not >:(“

#inside job #toko writes #robotus alpha beta #inside job x reader #inside job robotus #robotus x reader #alpha-beta x reader

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famouscreatorwolfcalzone · 2 years

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Jus work tings > ;3

Pls someone make sure Reagan takes breaks

#comfort characters #meme #fanart #my scrimbly #inside job reagan #inside job part 2 #inside job self insert #inside jobsona #inside job #inside job robotus #inside job alpha-beta #Chris Diamantopoulos #reagan ridley x reader #reagan ridley

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pixilatedcryptid · 1 year

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Robotus was so used to accessing everything at this point that it really wasn't much to hack Oc's Amazon, he'd wanted to tease her about something childish she'd talked about ordering, until he spotted THIS in her shopping basket, apparently taken out and put back in repeatedly by the data he could see.

He was sure his systems went into overdrive to keep him from overheating while browsing similar things from her list. He could picture her plump frame in the apron, ties pulled tight around her, just showing every curve off even more.

Later, a personal package would show up for Oc in the office, and her cheeks would turn a lovely hue of pink, that he makes sure to cataloge away in his mind. She hasn't a clue its him yet, of course, she was a bit oblivious, but he enjoyed their banter.

He just couldn't resist getting her just this at least, something he could imagine her wearing at home.

For now he hacks into the holodeck for some courting practice(he's got so much more he'd like to see oc in after all♡) and as thrilling as his date with Tamiko was, he knows this will take a much different approach but the unknowns of it all still thrills him.

#robotus x oc #insidejob oc #insidejob #insidejob season 2 #robotus x reader #robotus alpha beta #strawberrymilkinsidejob #calling my oc strawberrymilk until i name her lol #sexy apron #f/o post #f/o x self insert

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cognitozclownz · 2 years

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Anonymous asked:

Any sleeping headcanons for everyone? maybe including reader? thank you so much!!!

---

AWE THIS IS SOFT <333

SFW

tw : drugs and drug use

Andre

Yknow when you gotta pull an all nighter, and then youre like 'no im gonna stay awake all day and get to sleep at 8 and then my sleep schedule is gonna reset itself' and you end up falling asleep at like,, 2?

and then when you wake up it feels like you were just dug out of your grave

yeah thats All of Andre's Sleep.

HE HAS SUCH A BAD SCHEDULE AND,, HE CONSTANTLY WAKES UP IN THE NIGHT??? He has such awful insomnia

Melatonin no longer works on him bc of,, how much he uses constantly so most nights he just puts on a buncha music + tv + maybe a fan or two to just... basically force his brain to stop thinking??

usually passes out around 4-5 am, wakes up at 7, accidentally falls asleep during lunch, wakes up feeling like Death, goes home an hr early.

OH THOSE NIGHTS WHERE HE SLEEPS WELL??? He feels like an entirely new man. He could fight the sun and win.

AND DEAR READER <333 BOY OH BOY DOES HE SLEEP WELL IN YOUR ARMS

like seriously if you just,, hook an arm around him while you're laying down?? Maybe cradling his neck a bit?? He's out like a light <3

he usually curls up Super Tight?? Like almost fetal position facing you?? <333 His legs will slowly flop out during the night to pull you closer.

MSNDMSD WHEN HE WAKES UP HE STRETCHES AROUND LIKE HES BEING EXORCISED AND THEN,,, COLLAPSES BACK INTO BED.

Gigi

AS ONE OF THE ONLY RESPONSIBLE ADULTS AT COGNITO, she does to bed at a reasonable time and has a strict routine <3

She seriously looks forward to her nighttime routine <333 with how hectic Everything Is All The Time, its nice to have something that doesn't change!!

removing makeup, brushing teeth, a nice bath if she's had a particularly bad day (if not, she still usually soaks her feet bc,,,, heels hurt lmao), getting into her robe.

MNSDMSD she is unable to be contacted from the hours of 9pm to 6am. the world could be ending and you won't be able to reach her unless you come knocking at her door smdnsd. ITS SOMEBODY ELSES PROBLEM, SHES OFF THE CLOCK. LET HER REST.

So Many Pillows, a massive duvet and probably a weighted blanket. smothered <333 she usually tosses and turns a lot so it helps her to not fall off the bed. Besides its like a hug from every direction <33 how delightful

LAY ON HER. i cannot emphasize this enough, positively flop on top of her. she has you close AND there's that lovely Compressed feeling <333

it also means she can wrap her arms around you n <333 keep you still when you try to get up in the morning.

she DOES have a few pets and they WILL scamper around your bed <333 that’s usually her alarm lmao so expect a cat attacking your toes at 5 am.

Reagan

msdnsd she really is like a cat when it comes to sleeping. Wherever she can fit herself.

she RARELY if ever sleeps in her bed??

SHES,,, VERY BUSY.

And also,, usually she doesn’t want to deal with Rand at the end of the day so it can be nice to make up some excuse and just stay at Cognito.

oh she loves sleeping in her lab <333 the sounds of machinery is like a heartbeat. She absolutely has like,, a sleeping nook somewhere in there??

Like,, nestled behind a wall panel there’s this <33 small, cushion-y crevice that she can hide away in <3

BUT IF SHE’S SLEEPIN WITH YOU??

She doesn’t like to be restrained!! If she’s sleepin with her back turned to you/one specific side of the bed it’s not bc she’s upset, she just can’t stand being too close to smb when she sleeps dmsnds

depending on the night though, she might want an arm to hold onto!! Just kinda,, curled up against your side, head on your arm, both of her own wrapped around it??? <333 yea

Brett

CUDDLIEST MAN ALIVEEE.

He just <33 physical touch makes him so happy.

THIS ALSO MEANS THAT

he has a shit ton of pillows and blankets

HE HOLDS A PILLOW TO SLEEP.

He genuinely cannot sleep without clinging to a pillow. It calms him down so much - maybe its bc he’s super touch starved, or the fact that he’s cozied up to smth so warm and soft but <333 it knocks him out so fast

AHA <333 IF YOU TWO ARE SLEEPIN TOGETHER, HE’S ABSOLUTELY GONNA HOLD YOU LIKE HIS PILLOW. Just,, a mess of limbs, basically cradling you in his arms?? Kinda like an extended fetal position??

EAR AGAINST YOUR CHEST <333 your heartbeat is like a lullaby for him.

<33333 it makes him feel safe knowing you’re there AND you’re all warm n cozy so <333 its even better.

Glenn

sleepin on his back makes his tail hurt </3 he used to sleep on his back, but now it just compresses his tail into a whole new world of pain </3

This means he usually sleeps on his side or stomach!!!

if he’s on his stomach you can,, absolutely collapse onto his back like a Lizard on a Hot Stone lmao. You’ll get some Southern Grumbling (tm) and maybe some laughs <3

IF HES NOT TOO TIRED,, HE MIGHT SPIN ROUND N SNATCH YOU UP IN HIS ARMS <333 some lil,, ‘the nerve, pouncin’ on an old man like me <3′ before rolling the two of you onto your sides <3333

<33333 his hands fiddle so much. Just,, gently rubbing your back?? He could be half asleep and his hand is still gonna be just <33 quietly soothin you <3

ABSOLUTELY SNORES <33 MSNDSMD IM SO SORRY ITS LIKE SMB BATTERING ON A BARN DOOR </3

OKAY SO SLEEP IS INTERESTING FOR HIM

I personally hc that,, he Does need to sleep - it gives his internal systems time to do proper diagnostics, reboot things as needed, etc. Theoretically he could probably go without sleep for months, but there'd be some Pretty Bad Side Effects smdnsd.

HE WOULDN'T DO THAT UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY BC HE LOVES SLEEP <3

oh how he savors being unconscious for 6-12 hours.

it's definitely smth that grew on him?? Like when he was in his tube,, sleep was just a way to pass the time. virtually nothing happened at night and there was no reason to watch empty halls for 6 hrs when he could just,, Skip It.

IN A PROPER BED THOUGH??? WITH YOU?

That’s 6-12 hours of cuddling being in vague closeness to you <333 now he DOUBLE loves sleeping.

He could probably sleep through a house fire smdnsd. He says he doesn’t get tired but <333 listen he might make you late for work a few times bc,, he’s all cozy and you’re warm >:( he is not letting go smdnsds

he would be unconscious at all times if that was an option

GODDDD NAPS ARE THE BEST HE DIDN'T APPRECIATE NAPS ENOUGH WHEN HE WAS A KID.

Like <33 the amount of time you’ll find him w/ his head rolled back, laptop in his lap w/ some Work Shit on it, just,,, completely passed out??? It’s a twice-weekly affair.

He,, rarely gets to sleep in a bed - even once you two are living together, you’ll usually find him face-down at his desk bc,, he got caught up in Some New Problem. You’ll have more than a few late nights trying to wrangle his stubborn ass away from his office and into a bed >:(

he’s broken a few pairs of glasses from forgetting to take them off before falling asleep and proceding

<333 he probably won’t ask for it, but <3333 hold him. He loves spooning w/ you. eventually he’ll,, slowly spin around in the night until his face is buried in your chest smndsmd.

ITS NOT LIKE ITS EASY TO CUDDLE HIM THO BC HE’S COLD AS BALLS-

corpselike. he runs FRIGID. He’ll try to cuddle up to you during the night and it feels like the Hand Of Death itself is wrapping around your waist smdnsnmd.

Myc

MASSIVE BED. Enough to fit,, several people. ITS ALSO A WATERBED, bc he gives me the vibes of a man who would own a waterbed.

his tendrils twitch so much when he sleeps - same way some ppl kick in their sleep? </3 you are being kicked by several tentacles

HE PRETENDS TO BE A HARDASS BUT <333 GOD HE REALLY LOVES AFFECTION.

Like come on, he’s 4000 years old - he rarely gets attached to people. He savors what few soft moments life gives him with you.

<3 sleeping is probably his favorite

OH YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY SWARMED. If you like being squeezed he will have no problem wrappin you up in his tentacles - they kinda,,, pulse a bit?? Almost like a heartbeat, but different for each tentacle.

He mights squeeze a bit too hard in his sleep <333

LOTS OF COMMENTS, BC,, IT’S MYC.

‘Can’t get enough’a me, huh ;)’ if you snuggle closer to him, half-awake, etc. <333

#myc #magic myc #magic myc x reader #myc x reader #sfw #glenn dolphman #glenn dolphman x reader #gigi thompson #gigi thompson x reader #jr scheimpough #jr scheimpough x reader #brett hand #brett hand x reader #alpha-beta #robotus alpha-beta x reader #robotus alpha-beta #alpha-beta x reader #reagan ridley #reagan ridley x reader #andre lee #andre lee x reader #UHHH I THINK THATS EVERYBODY??#THIS WAS SUPER CUTE <333 EEEE #bonus : jr needs a mouthguard and doesn't wear it bc it makes his mouth taste weird #HE GRINDS HIS TEETH IN HIS SLEEP </3 BC HES ALWAYS SO STRESSED #SO LIKE... HE NEEDS HI SMOUTHGUARD BUT DOESN'T FFFFUCKING WEAR IT #*kisses them all gently* my darlings #god the idea of AB being a heavy sleeper hit me over the head <33 and hasn't left since #you could roll this man off the bed and he wouldn't notice. 'genius ai' mhm sure catch him when he's asleep and he's a paperweight smdnsmd #LIKE GOD <333 tired ab just barely blinking awake and immediately huffing n??? cuddling closer bc NO. fuck he doesn't wanna wake up.

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peachringwithpiss · 2 years

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Inside Job music + dance hc

Ok so I was thinking about this earlier so now you guys have to deal

Reagan

I literally can only see her listening to the radio

Like flipping through stations everyday to fit her mood

She likes 2000s pop/punk though and has a youtube playlist of her favorite songs

What I'm trying to say is she's basic but will jam to MCR if given the chance

She does like the white woman shimmy but other than that cannot and does not dance lmao

Brett

80s rock like this is just canon

AC/DC, Bon Jovi, Journey, Guns N' Roses, Dave Matthews Band lmao

The whole nine yards

But just like imagine walking past the most unthreatening person in the office and hearing "welcome to the jungle" blasting out of his headphones

Since he was a goth/jock in high school he will also listen to shit like MCR with Reagan

90'S COUNTRY

LISTEN JUST HEAR ME OUT!!!!!!

Ok 1. Since he was born in the 90s I feel like thats what he would have been hearing on the radio and 2. YOURE GONNA LOOK AT ME AND TELL ME BRETT HAND WOULD NOT LISTEN TO GARTH BROOKS

His playlists are a fucking mess

We all saw the clip, he heard dance like no ones watching and took it heart

Like don't even try to insult him cus I'd like to see you do better with that much confidence

Anyway thats enough of Brett

Glenn

Glenn listens to SiriusXM ASHDLSKDHALDJDSL

Specifically Willie's Roadhouse

Like Johnny Cash vibes fr

He has an Amazon Music playlist that's just the American anthem on loop for 10 hours

He is secretly really into like dad rock/metal

So like Rob Zombie, Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Nirvana

When he got divorced he blasted ABBA and Fleetwood bc they reminded him of his ex

He can square-dance nothing else

Andre

He has a playlist for literally any occasion

Disco/dance?- Camel by Camel (he would listen to it unironically), Funkytown, Earth Wind + Fire, Play That Funky Music

Girlboss(aka gigi)- Doja, cupcakKe, Lizzo, Nicki, Full Tac, Shakira, Lily Allen, Harry Styles, Lady Gaga, Yung Gravy

Sad- Mitski, Cody Fry, Hallelujah(shrek ver.), The Moldy Peaches

Random(aka myc lmao)- Soul Bossa Nova, icp, Oingo Boingo, the entire mlp discography, A Cruel Angel's Thesis, Dan Bull, The Living Tombstone

You get the gist they're all over the place, but he also has a curated playlist for everyone in the gang so give him the aux fr

I like to think he took ballroom lessons when he was younger so if ever needed he could do about any well known style

Other than that he dances about as well as you'd expect from someone who is constantly high

Gigi

I basically already said the gist of it in Andre's

She is the definition of Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss

What people dont know is that she is a total theater nerd

She has the entire 3 hours of Hamilton memorized and can recite it verbatim

In the heights? Yup. Rocky Horror? You bet your ass. Grease? Regrettably lmao

Her comfort movie is Dirty Dancing

She probably had an aneurysm when Mamma Mia came out

She photoshops her Spotify Wrapped every year, because having The Phantom Of The Opera in her top 5 isnt exactly on brand

Speaking of she can hit christines high notes lmao

The only person here that can actually dance

She eats and leaves no crumbs

Myc 💀

You know male manipulator music

Yeah that

Askaldhalksdfgds

MSI, ICP, Hollywood Undead, Filthy Frank

And like no one can tell if its ironic or not and theyre frankly too scared to ask

He also listens to like 80s era er0tic club music

So like Love Shack- The B-52s, Super Freak- Rick James, Girls on Film- Duran Duran, Carless Whisper- George Michael

I want you to look me in the eyes and explain to me how Myc would dance....

Thats right he can't............ not as a mushroom that is

As a human he'd tear that shit up are you kidding me

They would be one of those people that can dance when there's not music

Alpha-Beta

I'm only adding AB because ❤him❤

He would and could listen to hours of static he doesnt need to listen to music

But that doesnt mean if you took a radio down to him he'd be mad

(Ps he really like the friends theme song and if you told him there was an extended vers hed have a conniption)

Cannot dance because he has one arm and no legs, but even if he had legs he doubts he'd ever dance

Thats a lie this domestic bitchboy would 100% dance with a partner hes just an asshole

OMG this was my first time writing something like this, I hope y'all like it :)

#how to tag this #reagan ridley #brett hand #andre lee #dr andre #glenn inside job #gigi thompson #magic myc #robotus alpha beta #robotus #reagan ridley x reader #brett hand x reader #andre lee x reader #dr andre x reader #glenn x reader #gigi x reader #robotus x reader #myc x reader

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cognitosclowns · 1 year

Text

Alpha-Beta NSFW Alphabet <3

UM. PRETEND I DIDN’T FORGET TO POST THIS. PRETEND I DIDN’T. LEAVE THIS IN MY DRAFTS THINKING I POSTED THIS PRETEND OUTIS IS COMPETENT. PRETEND THIS WASNT SUPPOSED TO GO OUT IN JUNE PRETEND MY BRAIN IS NOT SMOOTHER THAN A BOILED EGG

smnsmd yea I’ve <33 been wanting to do one of these for a while and who better than my favorite omnicidal robot man <3333

[template here!!]

NSFW BELOW!! minors go away

THIS IS GONNA BE P LONG BC,, I am unable to shut up about this man + I added to some sections after Part 2 came out so,,, yeah. Brainworms. Expect plenty of sillygoofery, tangents, X Reader, etc. you know the the drill by now MASNDMASNDMASD mwah mwah on y va

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

OOOO <33 BOYE

He. forgets you need to breathe so expect so many dazed little kisses.

Especially right after he cums, while his systems are still fuzzy. Your warmth is absolutely intoxicating. He’s like a lizard on a hotstone.

His tongue feels like a lead ball in his mouth, so they aren’t really coordinated kisses.

More,, vague lip movements with a bit of tongue <3

He does not have the system functionality to be a little shit + any shyness he has left evaporated around the third time you made him cum <3

TLDR expect him to be a lot more tender and scrambled than usual!!

It’s probably the messiest you’ll ever see him??

Like he,, thinks he’s more competent than he actually is.

All his movements are super jittery, more than a little unbalanced. He’ll go to brush a hair out of your face and instead just. clumsily jam his fingertips your cheek. Absolute tragedy.

What’s better is he barely realizes it, so SAVOR THAT SHIT!!!

Usually he makes an effort to seem ~Put Together And Ohoho Superior Lifeform~ etc, etc.

These moments are rare!!

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It isn’t that he dislikes his current form. he’s just,, mostly neutral to it??

He doesn’t really have the options to change it, and even if he could there’s nothing he really hates enough to swap out?

Once he’s a bit more independent, sure, he’ll gladly do some experimentation, but for the moment that’s hardly his priority. He’d settle for just. having legs. maybe an arm. please.

THE STREAK IN HIS HAIR DOES FUCK THOUGH AND HE’S FULLY AWARE OF IT. HE TOTALLY KNOWS HOW GOOD THAT LOOKS THAT’S NEVER CHANGING LMAO.

OK THIS IS CLICHE BUT HE REALLY CAN’T CHOOSE WHAT HE LOVES THE MOST ABOUT YOU.

He finds every aspect of you so,, clever and endearing and absolutely wondrous. he could write a 5000 page thesis about you and still have more to say.

If he was to choose smth of yours it’d be so,, oddly specific.

The way your throat flexes when you swallow. The little blink of surprise when you see him. The way your skin folds when you bite your lip. Scars, birthmarks, burns, stretch-marks, discoloration. Nothing gets him hotter than the little details that make you up. he’s such a sap at heart.

IN TERMS OF,, ‘CLASSIC’ BODY PARTS?

It’s thighs. thighs thighs thighs he is a thighs man and he’s so obvious about it

He lavishes every part of you, obviously, but his eyes light up a special kind of way when he,, slowly peels off your trousers to reveal that particular section of flesh,

Kisses, hickeys, biting, laying on them so he can stare up at you like a lost puppy to appreciate their softness, having you sit on his face and to feel the weight. Anything and everything.

The flesh is so,, pliable and gooey. There’s nothing like it <3

[OH, BONUS ONE??? SINCE PART 2 ??? hands. Not quite as intensely as thighs, but if he stares at your hands too long, his mental energy is just gonna melt into fantasies of finger-sucking.]

YES this means he’d 10000% be into thigh-fucking, and he goes as feral as you’d expect <3

GOD <333 there’s like. Tangible friction-heat bc of the speed + intensity - he’s not inside you, there’s no risk of damaging internal organs! I wouldn’t be surprised if you had some friction burns after though. sorry.

Since he doesn’t have to worry quite as much about accidentally hurting you, It gives him a bit more room to be,,, unkempt. [If you want him super sloppy :o that’s gonna be a good option!!]

[BONUS,, if he ups his sensitivity?? and he has his head against/between your thighs?? The pulse of blood through your arteries makes him so indescribably horny. Its like a direct connection to your heart <3]

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

OH he wasn’t,, programmed with cum, because that’s absolutely useless to him.

It honestly wasn’t even smth that occurred to him because,, what’s the point if he can’t reproduce?

If you ask him for it, he’ll absolutely add it and,,,, uh,, <333 new favorite thing

NEW FAVORITE THING

he develops a breeding kink at lightning speed when he sees his artificial cum drooling out of you <3

he tries to logic his way out of it several times (it doesn’t make sense, he can’t even impregnate you, etc) but. kinks do not care about logic robot man. Start breeding. MSNDMSND

He cums buckets, bc he’s a greedy little bastard who clings to positive sensory inputs. The added slickness and heat and just,, sensation adds so much. 7/10 times your lower half is gonna be absolutely covered in the stuff.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

A shameful amount of power is devoted to replaying memories of your escapades. A frankly mortifying amount. His processing speed has tanked since he’s met you, just bc of how much of his RAM (RAM? is that the right term? smb teach me computers sos sdmnsd) is dedicated to fantasies. He always has something playing in the back of his head.

He’s literally taking this knowledge to his tomb and if u ever find out he’ll roll himself into a fountain

Also there’s this Tiny Little Microscopic Infinitesimal Thread of self-loathing that somewhere along the line bundled up into a secret fantasy about wanting to be. dominated and degraded and absolutely ruined by a human. If he thinks too hard about it he’ll give himself a crisis. so. secret kink.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

BABEY HE WAS A VIRGIN BEFORE HAVE FUN <3

alright he has a lot of theoretical knowledge, bc of the whole ‘Plugged Into The Internet Oh God Oh No The Horror’ thing, but he figures out very quickly that,,, theoretical ≠ practical.

(you KNOW the first time you two have sex. it’s gonna realign his fucking humours MSNDMS he did NOT anticipate how good that shit would feel)

HES A FAST LEARNER THOUGH. REAGAN DID A BANG-UP JOB W/ HIS PROBLEM-SOLVING CAPABILITIES SMDNSD

Like,, he’s gonna struggle for a solid few minutes while figuring out the specifics, but it helps to liken it to an experiment - he’s very methodical in figuring out what exactly gets the best reactions out of you. After that, he’s pretty much set <3333 have fun SMNDSMDSNMD

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

WELL,, in his current state he is sort of limited? there’s 1001 ways he’d like to have you but currently he has very few options. Overall he just,, really likes having you Close. If he can’t feel your pulse through your skin you aren’t nearly close enough smsdmsnsmdnsmd

OK IM DIVERTING RQ BECAUSE IF HE WAS REPAIRED??? [alternatively, holo-chamber fun?] <3333

Legs over his shoulders, completely pinned to the bed, not a single thought left between your ears.

HE LIKES THE CONTROL. He likes seeing you all spread out and brainless, soft and pliable for him. It’s such a delight to see you willingly vulnerable - not only do you feel safe enough to be all limp, but you’re asking for more. Rambling nonsensical little gasps n moans while you try to piece together the thoughts you wanna get out. Absolute bliss, he wants nothing else.

ALTERNATIVELY?? just,, super domestic, just-woke-up saturday morning sex. Something about this man tells me he’d like that. The mixture of Super Close and Your Brain Being Mushy feels up his alley?

If he’s bottoming tho? he isn’t picky about positions, as long as he can feel you against him. When he’s getting his guts rearranged, the proximity is more important than the specifics of how he’s oriented. He’ll take whatever you’ll give him, so long as you give <3

TLDR. he flip-flops between kinda-possessive ego-fueling positions where he can see you all strewn out, and super soft n’ gooey positions. the robot man is versatile, what can I say.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Hmmm there’s a timeline here lemme get out the whiteboard

At the beginning? He’s definitely more serious. a few snarky little comments sprinkled in here and there. You’re pretty sure if he doesn’t say smth snippy every 5 minutes he’ll self destruct.

This kinda plays into the Intimacy question later on but,, the vulnerability that comes with sex makes everything very tense for him. It’s easier to be a Scowling Little Bastard during sex than,, all soft and relaxed.

It also helps him disguised how mind-meltingly flustered he is MSDNSMND

He gets there eventually, but it takes some time!! He unwinds more as you two get into it, yk?

Once touch doesn’t feel New And Scary + sex is smth he’s more accustomed to? Expect the Additional Spattering Of His Very Stupid, Very Cheesy Jokes.

You know its True Love (tm) when one day you pull too hard giving him a handjob and pop his dick out of its socket, dropping it on the floor where it just kinda. vibrates in circles.

without missing a beat, he picks it up, holds it to his ear and straight-faced says, ‘Hello? No they’re busy right now, can I take a message?’

Did this man improv an entire 7 minute conversation with someone on his Vibrating Dick Phone, while you cracked up laughing on the bed? Yes. Was that also the day you decided you were gonna marry him? Also yes.

TLDR. the goofs will increase as he settles into the comfortable nook that is your relationship <3 if he’s cracking a few jokes during sex, you’ve won. he’s wrapped inseparably around your finger, have fun!

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

NOT NSFW BUT. OH YOU’LL ABSOLUTELY CATCH HIM FUSSING WITH HIS HAIR. AND OFTEN. Come on he’s so prideful there’s no way you won’t catch him fluffing his hair to make the part sit nicer in any nearby reflective surface.

outside of that HE HAS BODY HAIR AND HE HATES IT. DESPISES IT. ITS SO USELESS TO HIM IT SERVES NO PURPOSE AND AESTHETICALLY HE THINKS ITS NIGHTMARISH. HATE HATE KILL.

He comes to accept it when he removes all of it and realizes he looks. Fucking abhorrent. Smooth like an aubergine. He puts all of it back bc that’s the lesser of two evils.

Nice and fuzzy along his arms, chest, stomach, this very dense but well-tended happy trail. Even a bit on his hands? Like right on the knuckles? <3333333

IF YOU LIKE IT THOUGH??? HE’S GONNA BE WAYYYY MORE PARTIAL TO IT, Because this silly bitch has a praise kink like nobody’s business, and if you say he looks good with chest hair, he’ll make sure that shit is thick enough to braid MSNDSMDNMSND

don’t get me started on the color of this man’s hair I feel like I’m in Home Depot comparing paint swatches. He’s a blonde he’s ginger he’s so obviously brunette but also not. like not any of those. but also all of those. this is The Color Out Of Space. I have been debating this with my friends for months and I will never know peace.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He has a lot of trouble Vocalizing his romantic feelings, but his overall affection for you definitely shows more in bed!!

Every action drools with adoration. You’re surprised you can’t see it radiating off him in waves.

His hands squeeze on every bit of skin he can access, he nearly whines in disappointment when his lips leave your skin, he takes every delicacy to make sure you’re cozy and thoughtless and without worry.

Wordless shows of affection, because trying to vocalize his feelings in the way he means them is like. Idk doing a puzzle in the dark.

Like he theoretically knows where things should go, and he could probably figure it out with some trial-and-error, but FUCK, IT SURE WOULD BE EASIER IF SOMEBODY TURNED THE LIGHTS ON SMDNSD

Words are so fickle and imprecise, and easy to misconstrue. Actions feel more precise.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

If you ask? He’s gonna say he doesn’t, because ’’’’’’’something something he’s above all that, isn’t some weak-willed flesh sack, he has no needs or cravings or things he enjoys because he is the perfect creation’’’’’’’’ etc, etc, etc

It’s utter BULLSHIT this man fucks his fist every other night thinking of you.

ITS JUST. how is he not meant to get distracted when you look like that. all the time. it’s agonizing and you should feel very bad for being such a distraction MSNDMSNM.

especially when,, avenues for actually having sex with you is. limited. considering his current situation. So he makes due with what he has <333

tbh even AFTER he gets out, this man is pretty insatiable, so I can see it still being a semi-regular occurrence!! something something he craves positive sensory input, and sex gives him so much of that.

Methods offer a lot of variety - if he’s still,, yknow,, Slice n’ Diced, it’s gonna be exclusively wire play. Takes a bit of fiddling, but once he’s got it? <333 oh he’s in heaven

If he’s repaired to some degree? his own hand is fine, but I have no doubt this man would 3D print a Fleshlight based off on one [or more] of your holes. Probably several.

It’s nice for those rare times when you’re travelling bc of work and he just. needs you in that idiotic, desperate way that makes his pride start getting spiky.

It’s not as good as the real thing, ofc, but it’s enough to tide him until he can get you back in his arms <333

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

OH BOY <33 WHERE TO BEGIN

I’m not even sure if there’s a word for this but like,, he’s obsessed with seeing you all fucked-out and brainless.

He just,, always seems to be able to find That One Way of fucking you that makes you ASCEND SMDNSMD JUST LIKE A FUCKING,, FULL SYSTEM RESET.

Smth about the mixture of the angle, the rhythm, that barely noticeable vibration? He’s had so much time to perfect his technique that he basically knows you inside out.

He could get you off in seconds if he wanted, but where’s the fun in that?

he loves that point where aren’t even moaning, it’s just this delightful mixture of nonsense and sobbing and desperate nodding in some attempt to tell him to keep going?

THAT. THAT’S HIS SHIT RIGHT THERE. There’s nothing in the world he enjoys more than being able to see your brain shut off, bit by bit. Your limbs slowly going limp, eyes rolling back, law going all slack, until you’re just. mush <3 oughe <3.

[He’d never admit it, but the trust part is what gets him the most. you trusting him to handle you in such a vulnerable state? Not seeing him as a danger? Oh <3333 love isn’t a strong enough word for what he’s feeling]

A FEW OTHERS I’M SO SURE OF (and that i’ve kinda mentioned earlier but shoosh) :

Praise kink!!

Nobody with this much of an ego who’s given so little affection/appreciation doesn’t have a praise kink <3 he thinks he’s being slick but he,, really isn’t. He perks up visibly when you praise him.

Sensory stuff!!

Specifically over-stimulation, because this man adores pushing his limits, intense + postitive sensations, etc, but also I raise you,,,, temperature. Wax. Heating up his internal systems. The feeling of the rubber melting off his wires as you hover a lighter beside them.

Masochism but like. Coppery msdnmsd.

In that same vein? I’m obsessed with the idea of using a drill (dremel?) to etch patterns into the exterior plating of his highly-sensitive motor. That area is already so tender, mixed with his love of Intense Feelings? It just <333 feels like such a good combo.

NEW ONE NEW ONE BC OF PART 2 : FINGERS,, HANDS,,, SUCKA SUCKA HONKA HONKA.

it’s not his strongest kink, but it’s definitely. up there. I mentioned it earlier, but he’ll absolutely get himself riled up just. staring at your hands. While you do unrelated things.

If you slip your fingers into his mouth, his brain will shut off. His eyes unfocus a little, and badabing-badaboom, he’s pliable as a bendy straw.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

nearest. nearest location is favorite location.

OKAY BUT,,,,, he’s especially partial to slightly more risque venues? He’s such a prideful, overconfident bastard. He’d 1000% believe y’all wouldn’t get caught, because he’s too clever to get caught.

That’s also due to circumstance, because even if he does end up getting fully put back together he’s most likely still gonna be stuck in Cognito.

If the holodeck is an option though??

Outdoors. God he isn’t used to the feeling of the sun, and breeze, and just,, nature. You riding him in a [granted, holographically projected] field, under the shade of a big oak tree? being able to feel grass on his legs, breeze filtering through his hair? The smell of earth and pollen? HES SO GONE!!!

Alternatively just,, the softest bed in the world. He isn’t used to Cozy Comfy Sensations, he was trapped in a sterile basement for god knows how long. the idea of fucking you/being fucked into big, plush blankets?He’d eat that shit right up.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

BANTER. He’s a snarky little bastard and having you match his snark or better,,,,, oh boy <333 you can practically see the hearts floating around his head.

LIKE,, he’s not used to having people who keep up with his wit? He’s a super-intelligent AI,, most conversations aren’t very stimulating.

Especially if you’re confident? <333

ALSO LITTLE TOUCHES. This silly bitch is TOUCH STARVED. TOUCH FAMISHED. Running your hands thought his hair, along his arm. It’s the littlest things that have him going fucking AWOOGA.

Any sort of praise. Any sort of praise. Compliment his smile, you’ll see him go through every human emotion and invent completely new ones.

[If the words ‘good boy’ slip out at any point, ever, you’ll have him wrapped around your finger like a bandaid]

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that would cause you substantial bodily harm - spanking is fine, slapping is a maybe, but if you’re asking him to,, properly brutalize you? Nope not a chance.

he knows he would never kill you, or purposefully do something he thinks would kill you, but he’s seen how little it takes to put a human out of commission.

He could do everything perfectly, down to the most precise percent, and still not be able to 100% predict the damage. he never wants to push things far enough that he can’t be sure of the outcome.

In terms of stuff being done to him? He’s very particular about sensory deprivation.

Light dulling of the senses is fine, and if it’s done right it’s one of his favorites, but if you sink his sensitivity too much it’s just. Bad. Bad and numb. It reminds him much too much of his Pre-Sentience state. 0/10

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

this man will never turn down head are you KIDDING?

<3 he has such limited experience with moisture. His systems just aren’t designed for it - he’ll absolutely upgrade himself eventually but,, even after that, its never smth he gets used to.

THE SLOPPIER THE BETTER <333 noisy, messy, unpredictable. He’s gonna have the tightest clenched fist pressed to his mouth to avoid ‘embarrassing himself’

Dw after about 5~ minutes this man will be keening.

OH THE JOYS OF FUCKING A ROBOT <33

hours. days. weeks. if the human body did not have needs to fulfill, he’d just keep you laid up in bed getting the best head of your life.

Actually y’know what you’re getting details why not

If you possess a shween :

He’s such a little bastard in the best way. Your dicks gonna hurt for like three days but it’s so worth it <3

He has 0 gag reflex, which is delightful enough as is, but if he focuses he can pop his jaw outta place and OH <333 THE POSSIBILITIES

listen its gonna look a bit horrific so just. um. close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of his vibrating tongue lapping around your balls, while his dick explores your non-existent esophagus.

[although. to loop back for a sec. honestly, he kinda wishes he had a gag reflex <3 occasionally. sometimes. maybe. constantly. there’s just a certain amount of submission that comes with the action that makes his consciousness feel malleable to consider.]

Ok but even outside of pulling out Weird Robot Shit (tm) he’s still gonna be pulling out all the stops

personal favorite of his? Keeping his thumb against that point where your balls meet your shaft, and just,, letting the vibrations work while he sucks you off. Gently massaging upwards, watching you squirm and buck.

usually it isn’t enough to make you cum straight out, but the buzzing sensation definitely helps getting you somewhere malleable

oh and you KNOW he’s swallowing every last drop <3 smth about that oozing, heady heat tricking down his throat, into his faux-stomach makes his toes curl. [he’d never admit it, but he ups his throat sensitivity when you cum <3 just so he can really enjoy himself.]

I can’t think of a silly name for pussy. If you possess a jimberlywomble :

So many kisses

Just,, lips right against your hole, delicately lapping any spare droplet of cum.

There’s something about the mixture of smell + taste that makes this man absolutely pussydrunk. If you popped his head open it’d just be TV static. Giving head is such a soothing activity for him <3

Vibrating,, everything? Fingers, lips, tongue. It starts out so gentle that you can barely notice it’s presence, and before you know it you feel like you’re shaking apart <3

FAVORITE TRICK??? it’s a classic, but fingering you while he tongues your clit? Different vibration settings for fingers vs mouth? <3333 its one of his favorite ways to make you lose coherency

That isn’t to say he can’t make you delirious with just his tongue. He can, and will gladly demonstrate his talents at the drop of a hat. he just likes the noises you make when he combines them <3

if you don’t ask him to stop, he will just go until you lose consciousness.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

HE REALLY TRIES TO BE SLOW AND SWEET ABOUT IT BUT. HE HAS A HABIT OF SPEEDING UP

He wants to savor it but. Again, the worst case of Instant Gratification ever. I cannot emphasize this enough.

I could talk about how this man has so little impulse control etc etc etc but this is HORNY TIME SO

Like it’ll just,, strike him at a random moment that your noises is the most beautiful sound to ever grace his ears and if he doesn’t hear more NowNowNowNow he’s going to die, and WHOOPS the bedframe is broken. How did that happen.

If he stays slow the whole time, it’s either bc you specifically requested it OR he’s decided to be a horrible, dreadful tease. In which case, strap in, it’s gonna be a long night.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

UGH bane of his existence but also the best thing ever.

He appreciates any time he can have with you, but also ever single time he feels himself wanting more - 15 minutes isn’t nearly enough time for him to savor you >:[

Quickies are especially good for teasing him - sneaking off to a broom closet once or twice during the day, satisfying him but not quite enough to get rid of that aching feeling. A nice little appetizer, yk? <3

They definitely don’t,, happen very often.

PRIMARILY BC HE’S A SNEAKY FUCK AND HAS SUCH A HABIT OF STRETCHING THEM OUT.

15 minutes turns into 20, turns into 30, turns into ‘only if you’re quick about it - they’re gonna start wondering where I went’ when he asks to taste you, etc, etc.

By the end of it, it’s been nearly an hour and a half, your legs don’t work, and he looks terribly proud of himself. Smug little bastard.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s pretty experimental? There’s very few things he won’t try - like I mentioned before, as long as it isn’t gonna cause you immense harm it’s pretty much fair game

WHEN IT COMES TO RISKS W/ HIMSELF THOUGH HE HAS ZERO PROBLEMS GOING ALL OUT

cause he can just be put back together! Nearly every element of his body is replaceable!

(aside from,, certain personality matrix stuff, but all of that is internal coding shit, nothing you’d be able to accidentally get ahold of)

HE LOVES intense sensations, so wireplay is such a blast jfc - if you wanna start straight up yanking wires and scratching up his motor with a screwdriver, he will be all for it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

OH THE JOYS OF BEING A ROBOT <3333 literally does not need breaks. He’s built for long stretches of intense work, followed by short diagnostic-recoup crash period. Also he’s an eager bastard and absolutely starved for the physical sensations that come with sex so. YEAH.

he’ll go as long as you care to go <3

ITS LITERALLY UP TO YOU SDMNS,, if your human body wouldn’t turn to paste, he’d probably go for days.

WARNING THOUGH,,, he will get more glitchy with each round, this IS the most sex ever, AND he will pretend he isn’t.

I ELABORATE A BIT MORE ON THIS IN (Z) SECTION BUT. He tends to overextend himself a touch during sex bc,, he doesn’t pay attention that much to his internal systems? This does mean that, occasionally, he’ll just slip into a Sleep Cycle unintentionally right after. silly goose forgets to pace himself.

OH ALSO. he,, is a bit of a quick shot for a number of reasons, but he also doesn’t stop fucking you when he cums, so he just kinda,, hopes you don’t notice? (you do <3 don’t bring it up he’ll die of embarrassment. his pride cant take it be gentle with him)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

babey he IS the toy!!!! Those fingers vibrate!!!

Aside from the fleshlight I mentioned in a previous section, he really doesn’t see a need to? He’s perfectly able to take care of his needs on his own, and outside of that, he’s got his beautiful partner <3

If you have a vibrator he will be jealous

HE FEELS SO SILLY FOR IT BUT HE DOES. He’s a robot his fingers vibrate why do you use that. He’s memorized exactly what you like. It isn’t even sentient. he’s superior in every way. >:[ why are you laughing at him stop laughing

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teasing is a tender balance of how much he enjoys seeing you squirm and his,, very limited patience.

Because sure it’s delightful to watch you gasp and squirm as he curls his vibrating fingers in your hole but,, also god wouldn’t it feel better to be inside you?

OH but if he’s intent on teasing you?????? good luck MSNDMSD

You’re gonna understand why ppl murder their husbands.

Infrared + a dozen other sensors means he can time when he stops down to the microsecond. He’ll keep you so close to the edge you aren’t even sure you’re begging in a decipherable language anymore. If you ask for some T&D prepare for him to be an absolute menace.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

noise = vulnerability = weakness = he’d literally rather combust

You can hear the mechanisms in his jaw straining from how hard he’s clenching it. He’ll make a little sigh or moan and immediately roll his eyes at himself.

It’s gonna take some time to get him used to the idea of making noise and,, even then he’s gonna be so embarrassed by it. If he thinks too hard on it he’ll cringe himself into a scrapyard.

he feels so. silly. he isn’t some mewling little human dammit >:(((

DESPITE ALL OF THIS,,,, he crumbles so fast if you know what buttons to push

ESPECIALLY WHEN HE CUMS LIKE??? He is. such a naturally talkative person + his systems are under such strain that,, somewhere between you rocking against him and his cock starting to pulse inside you he doesn’t even realize he’s started to ramble.

GRANTED most of it is,, a bit undecipherable. Several of his systems are gonna be hard rebooting

His voice is all rumbly and strained, right at the back of his throat. Little bits of absolutely adoring praise interspersed with swearing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

blinks. I can’t believe I can’t think of one. I’m literally sitting here looking through this document trying to find smth I haven’t already mentioned. Outis is a FRAUD Outis is a FAKE

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

WHERE TO BEGINNNN. I’m gonna assume this one’s for,, fully repaired.

IF I GOTTA BE BRIEF? Just like,, quintessential Dad Bod.

Soft fuzzy hair covering every part,, plenty of stomach and fat and muscle and I am DROOLING MOVING ON-

Actually I’m lying you’re getting a subsection on this

I’m so stuck on him having massive honkers and you can’t take that away from me. I have not a shred of justification aside from just. Look at him. Look at him. IDC if he doesn’t canonically has them, spiritually that man has Big Old Man Tiddies, with a beautiful spattering of ruddy hair.

Big arms, but not that much defined muscle? If he moves around, sure, but in his resting state you don’t see a lot of it. They peek out when u least expect it

Love handles to spare. Grab em during sex if you want to see the still-fleshy section of his face light up poppy red.

mathematically optimized ween

DONT LAUGH HE WORKED VERY HARD ON IT >:[

He will literally construct the Perfect Dick To Maximize Your Joint Pleasure because. He loves you AND he’s dramatic .

Besides, what’s a better way to cool his jealousy than the secured knowledge that nobody else’s dick could ever possibly square up to his?

I have not a single doubt in my mind that this man wouldn’t end up creating some like,, Bad Dragon type of shit. Not his go-to, but as an alternate option for when you want something a bit more intense?

Lots of texture, thick vein-like wires along the shaft - maybe even components that he can move and shift around? He likes to keep you on your toes <3

oh balls <3 literally

He has massive balls. Look at this smug son of a bitch and TELL ME he wouldn’t.

Its also just,, practical? There’s tubing and wiring that goes through there, to make sure the Cum releases smoothly, so making them larger just,, makes things easier?

If you lick them you’re gonna get the prettiest view of him fighting tooth-and-nail to keep his composure together.

The mixture of him loving intense sensations + the wetness of your tongue and mouth + those beautiful eyes looking up at him??? He’s gripping the mattress hard for dear life.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

PLEASE this man was free for maybe,, 3 hrs? 5 max? before getting shoved in a tube in a cold, damp basement for like 6 months to a year? When Tamiko stroked his face I think he experienced Nirvana? This question answers itself

Like I’ve mention before, he’d fuck you for days if not for the fact that you’d. die

At first he’s gonna be very. Stiff and hesitant to initiate things but once he’s got his footing he’s gonna be such a TERROR.

listen if you didn’t want him jumping your bones in your office then. maybe look less fantastic idk what to tell ya <3.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

EHE >:) you would think that bc he’s an AI he doesn’t need any rest but you would be WRONG

HES GOT A DIAGNOSTIC CYCLE BABEY <333 WHICH IS,, BASICALLY SLEEP AS MUCH AS HE LIKES TO PRETEND IT ISNT <33

He doesn’t have to do it, technically. He can function for multiple months without it, but,,,,, he gets some visible processing problems.

Every,, 72~ hours, it’s ideal for him to power down and allow his systems to do some checks - make sure everything’s working right, maybe switch up some pathways, optimize some coding. Basic stuff!!

THAT TIMEFRAME SHORTENS SO MUCH AFTER SEX THOUGH. It activates a shit ton of systems and he has a tendency to overtax them in the heat of the moment.

USUALLY, like 98% of the time, he’s just as fine as when you two started!! Could probably go for even longer!!

it’s just when he already hasn’t rested in a hot minute AND has gone a few rounds AND hasn’t been taking good care of his systems that. he’s gonna start to get,, Properly Drowsy.

like it doesn’t hit him,, how much he’s overtaxed his systems until he’s stopped.

Sue him for not being worried about the efficiency of his fucking,, ~coolant pumps~ when he’s railing you against the kitchen table.

It’s kinda like when you pull an all-nighter and you feel fine and then. The second you sit down you fucking,, crash into a whole new dimension of exhaustion. You can taste thoughts and your eyes feel like you’re made of oil.

His ’’tired’’ glitches are very specific - his voice doesn’t skip, so much as it gets more fuzzy? You can hear a bit of a static overlay, like you’re hearing him through a walkie-talkie. Duke Nukem Compressed Voice type of vibe

HE GETS SLIGHT PROCESSING DELAYS WHEN HE NEEDS TO DO HIS DIAGNOSTIC CYCLE. AND YES, OFC HE TRIES TO PRETEND EVERYTHING/S FINE.

You’ll ask him a question and know 100% he did not catch a goddamn lick of that shit sdSMNDMSDN not once spare iota of processing power left between those ears babey.

he just. doesn’t want the moment to end. it’s so nice just being with you during the afterglow. Doesn’t matter how much his systems bug him to power down, he’s not even thinking of it until you’re fast asleep

.......... if you wanna get him asleep though, rest his head against your chest and play with his hair. The mixture of your heartbeat + your fingers against his artificial scalp?

clik-clik-wroom he’s out like a light <3

ALMOST 6000 WORDS, JESUS

THAT WAS SO LONG AND SO FUN AND. truly I am bananas for this man. the folly of Outis. I hope this gave you some of my brainworms, and if you read this to the end I’m making us friendship bracelets as we speak <333

I might do some more of these for other characters in the future but :o hold me not to these words, I am a busy boy smdnsmd ANYWAYS BYE MWAH HAVE A GREAT DAY <333

EDIT : OH AND. IF THERES ANY ELEMENTS YOU WANT ME TO ELABORATE ON, GO NUTS. YOU KNOW IM UNABLE TO SHUT UP ABOUT THIS MAN.

#minors dni #alpha-beta #nsft.#inside job #robotus alpha-beta #robotus alpha-beta x reader #alpha-beta x reader #ME? making a written post that ISNT an ask? truly i must be succumbing to disease #ALSO I KNOW THESE ARE USUALLY DONE IN. PARAGRAPHS BUT. NO #SMNDSMD #NO THNX NEXT QUESTION #i just :o point form gives so much fun room for me to be goofy. such delight and whimsy #men will condense every hrony thought they have about their F/O into one post and succumb to eldritch madness #YKNOW IN JUNE WHEN I WAS LIKE 'ohoho im making a big post >:)' THIS WAS IT. I JUST FUCKIN. IDK I THOUGHT I ALREADY PUT IT UP-#I WAS SO SURE I ALREADY POSTED THIS BESTIES SO SORRY #SMDNSM LITERALLY I WAS GOING THROUGH DRAFTS TODAY LIKE 'OH NAUR THIS CANNOT BE' SMNDSMD #CAUSE I WAS LIKE 'hm ive been getting an uptick of ABfkcukers in my notes I wonder why this isnt getting traction' <- didnt fucking post it #slowly putting myself in the stocks but. fails halfway through bc i can't lock it. so i just sit there pretending its locked #annieway.#ENNIEWAES. MWA. I LOVE THIS MAN CARNALLY #SMDNSMD #I WROTE THIS OUT MONTHS AGO AND JUST. FORGOT TO POST. SO NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT I GUESS #i still remember when smb was like 'yknow Cognitosclowns sure does write a lot of ab stuff' AND TO THAT PERSON IM WRITING A FORMAL APOLOGY #I did so many edits to this it was. so fucking long and for WHAT SMDNSDM

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cogneato-inc · 1 year

Note

hullo may I request some dating alpha beta headcanons? 🥺

Robotus Alpha-Beta Dating Headcanons

FIRST of all God Bless whoever sent this in ily-

All of these are assuming he’s repaired and able to leave Cognito HQ but I might write another one because,, The Yearning,,,

Very fluffy (mostly ranting abt cuddling honestly-), all sfw !

This man is,, the Clingiest mf on the planet I swear-

He’s spent most of his sentient life in a jar, of course he’s going to be a little (a lot, it’s a lot) touch starved !!

He can’t always be touching you but by god he’s going to try-

Hands on your waist while you make lunch, looming over you much closer than necessary to watch something on your phone, helping you put on your jacket before you leave,,, he’s a sap <3<3<3

Loves cuddling,, sm- if he finds you watching a movie/taking a nap/literally just laying on the couch by yourself ??? You will not be alone much longer-

It doesn’t matter what he was doing before he spotted you, it is suddenly Not Important

Dozing off alone and briefly waking up as he winds his arms around you, easily coaxing you back to sleep with a few murmurs-

Lots of unexpected naps - he has a habit of playing with your hair/running his hands along your back when you’re watching tv together,, you have missed many episodes of Friends </3

Reagan mentions at some point that it’s odd for him to be powered on late at night so I guess he,, sleeps ? And WOW does that open some doors-

He’s a goddamn octopus - just,, curled around you, hands gripping the fabric of your pajamas, face buried in your hair/neck, pulling you closer to his chest anytime he wakes up in the middle of the night

(He doesn’t breathe but you can heAR THE MACHINERY IN HIS CHEST-)

The relaxed hum of his fans, maybe some quiet clicks every once in a while - better than any white noise machine

Good luck getting out of bed on time <3 he’ll wake up as soon as you’re gone - and he’s Very Persuasive when it comes to getting you back in his arms for ‘just a few more minutes’

He’s so warm <3 like an overworked laptop- which is great for cuddling obviously but also just,, him holding your hands to warm them up when it’s cold outside ?? Wrapping his jacket around you while he’s wearing it to share his warmth ???

(One downside to this is that he’s,, not very comfortable to sleep near in the summer </3)

Absolutely pulls a Clark Kent/Superman to go to fucking,, Walmart with you

(He hates interacting with The Masses, but never passes up an opportunity to be painfully domestic with you - helping you decide between ice cream flavors, grabbing your favorite snacks off the high shelves, insisting on carrying all of the bags up to your apartment in one trip (definitely NOT to show off, thankyouverymuch-))

Hacks the self checkout to get you every deal/coupon/employee discount possible :)

#Not sure if this is what you wanted but feel free to send another ask !#Okay tags-#inside job #inside job headcanon #robotus alpha beta #inside job robotus #robotus alpha beta x reader #alpha beta x reader #alpha-beta x reader #inside job x reader

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sin-sidejob · 1 year

Note

Give me jealous possessive JR/Andre/Gigi/Robotus or give me DEATH

Inside Job — Jealous

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, canon adherent material from a mature show, jealousy, possessiveness, semi public sex, exhibition, etc

Content: bossy, bitchy, deep-state employees. When they feel jealous or insecure about others giving them attention in a way they don't really care for. Some are more dramatic and others suaver, also some more bitchy.

A/N: my, my, bossy aren’t we? Headcanons below for JR Scheimpough, Andre Lee, Gigi Thompson, and Robotus Alpha Beta, enjoy!

Robotus Alpha Beta:

- hates feeling emotions and hates feeling jealous even more, looming around like your sulky, petty, violent shadow who glares at everyone who gives you a once-over

- AB hates humanity but he’s learning to tolerate it through first hand experience and exposure, via the coworkers, and love it through you. That doesn’t mean that he’s not eager to snap a spine like a Ticonderoga #2 pencil.

- there’s one moment in particular where you actually got the first glimpse of him getting jealous, a holiday party when someone gets in a little to close and starts complimenting the fabric of your jacket while rolling it between their fingers. Before you can even say anything, you feel a weight all too familiar coil around your waist and warmth press against your back, lips leaning down to press at your temple while eyes glowing a bit ominously are locked upon the person before you, some poor bastard from accounting.

- “forgive me for interrupting,” Alpha Beta drawls suave and calm, sizing the person up from behind you knowing you could handle everything yourself, but enjoying the moment of being able to show off what’s his and his alone, “I just wanted to rejoin my dearest’s side. Quite immaculate, aren’t they?” He doesn’t waste time listening to the shaky response from the person before you and rather seems content just staring at you, focusing on your presence and spotting you glance up at him with a coy smile hidden behind the lip of your drink.

- You don't even look at the person in front of you, not interested in the slightest meanwhile AB is staring them down with a small, earnest little smirk until they leave, lurking behind like your personal, protective shadow.

- "Can I grab you a refill?" He asks, noting your now empty drink as he moves out from behind you and before you, taking you in as you lean against the unoccupied side of the bar, grinning up at him with a proud yet amused smirk. "What's the look for?"

- "Oh nothing," you drawl, smiling all the while and unable to wipe it off your face as you stare up at him, noting his hand still on your waist, "just finding your possessive streak endearing."

- "Endearing, huh?" Alpha-beta mirrors, leaning in a bit closer and making your head tilt up a tad as he watches your eyes lower to peer up at him beneath thick lashes, "Seeing you act all protective and domineering, possessive, its cute." Alpha-beta arches a brow, taking in your expression idly. "Cute? I'm not cute - I'm a homicidal machine bent on destroying humanity."

- "The only thing you've been destroying lately is me," you talk over and ignore his guffaw, enjoying the petulant scoff, "and its former homicidal machine bent on destroying humanity, now you just kill for fun. That makes it a pastime."

- "It doesn't. You know damn well that's incorrect." He immediately buts back, eyes half-lidded but still unable to give up his need to be right, "Oh I do, it's just funnier to get you all pent up, you fuck harder that way."

- "I'm getting you another drink and the second you finish it, I'm taking you home and you won't leave the house until Monday on legs so shaky its as if you're impersonating a newborn deer."

- "You've never been hotter." You tease and kiss his cheek as he takes your glass while passing by you, grabbing you a refill of your drink of choice and standing with his back to you at the bar, smiling up at the mirror that allows him to see you staring right at him from behind.

- He has no worry about losing you to another, knowing you well enough by now, but any little what-if gets clouded over by how you look at him, even when you think he can't see. Alpha-Beta adds it to the files, under that folder of reminders of how much you love him when he needs to remind himself.

JR Scheimpough:

- he’s whiny and pathetic — and you love him for it, the way he’s just a little bit of a bitch — but there are some things he just won’t stand for, like seeing others try and take what’s his. Including you. That man’s backbone has never been more prominent than in those moments, and he uses all of those well crafted aspects of speech and persuasion he’s accumulated over the years, and will indeed pick apart whoever it is with words until they’re nothing but bones.

- JR has a tendency to show you off, have you at his side and brag and boast about you and your talents, accomplishments, personality, and more. He doesn’t wield you like a trophy or a prize but rather pays tribute to you and presents you forth in front of others to illustrate just how much of a catch you are, and just how taken he is with you.

- so when a former colleague eyes you up and starts to lean in, JR abandons his conversation suavely and swiftly in order to weave through people to reach you. He slinks nearby, melting into crowds and peoples shadows while watching as this person tries to get closer to you. The moment he does see red is when their hand tries to touch you and you brush it away, stepping back, but they try to force their hands onto your waist.

- “There you are darling,” he spots the flicker in your eyes, noting the relief in your body and the way you immediately lean into him when he comes up, “was just talking about you to some coworkers over there then realized I had lost you — oh!” JR turns and addresses the person before the both of you, doing that salesman grin and extending his hand. “Hello, I didn’t recognize you for a second, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” JR segways brilliantly, an arm wrapped around your waist low and comfortable and he feels you press at his side, seeking him out and he wishes he came around sooner or just hung around you the whole night.

- the two stare each other down as JR shakes their hand, smiling in a grin that seems earnest yet as fake as the pristine demeanors and character junior league women have with their pearls and prejudice. “Pleasure to see you — lovely partner you’ve got, how long have you two been together? You can wink if you want out.” They chide, nodding at you and mocking your very real relationship, and both JR’s grip on your waist tightens as does your grip on the back of his jacket, gut already at a low and continuing to plummet the longer you’re around the person before you.

- “For a while now, several years actually.” JR responds first, nodding down to you and catching your eye, getting a small yet truly earnest smile out of you, him matching before glowering at the person before you. “Our anniversaries in about a month or so.” He adds, patting your waist affectionately in a blatant look what you’ll never get to touch moment.

- “Oh congratulations then, best of luck you two.” They say before departing, disappearing into the crowd and you breathe an audible sigh of relief which JR feels responsible for, smoothing his hand over your rib cage and kissing at your temple, “M’sorry I wasn’t here, wish I could off that fucker.”

- “there’s always the assassination button.” You muse idly, letting him hold you close and smiling against his lips when he leans in to kiss you, eagerly meeting his touch and wrapping an arm around his neck to lace over his shoulder, lingering as he makes all the occupants in the room disappear, just him and you in a moment.

- “have I mentioned how much I love you and the way you think?” JR jokes, squeezing at your side and eliciting a little chirp he grins against, mouth ghosting over yours in a blatant, overly intimate display of affection. You shake your head, blinking at him beneath lashes and he watches as your grin forms, the hand at his back splaying across his shoulder while the other plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending a shudder rolling through his spine all the way down to the tailbone.

- “you may have said something, but I’m more than open to hearing more from you, if that’s quite alright Mr. Scheimpough?” Teasing, you slide the hand over his shoulder and to rest on his chest to tug at his tie, feeling him melt under your touch and his body turning to moldable clay, ready for the heat of your touch to break him or make him. “There’s nothing I’d like more.” JR breathes, hand in hand as he lets you lead him out the building towards home, or more likely, the back of the car.

Gigi Thompson:

- you think she’s gotten to where she is while letting insecurities bloom? No way. But she will cut a bitch should they touch what’s hers. Gigi doesn’t like feeling lesser than anyone, and she knows she isn’t, she’s incredible at her job and immensely talented, creative, cunning, and drop dead gorgeous. It’s why she holds you so highly in respect with how you’re all that and more. Which is why she’s the only one who gets to have you.

- The two of you had went out, finally managing a date night after a series of cancelled plans from work hijinks and shenanigans, finding yourselves at a club and hidden away in corners and booths all to your lonesome, Gigi working her magic to get you into all the hottest and most lucrative places. You had finished your glass and saw she was about to finish hers, offering to head to the bar to get refills and kissing her in a brief little see you later kiss, feeling her gloss transfer and glitter slide upon your mouth. She thinks it’s a look.

- upon making your way to the bar, you skirt through bodies of people and finally make it, waiting for the bartender to make their way through and finally reach you. You reorder Gigi’s drink and get some ice water for yourself, feeling a bit hot in the packed room. While waiting on Gigi’s drink, you sip away at your own and lean against the bar, throwing Gigi a wink from across the floor which she rolls her eyes at, smiling regardless and sending her own back.

- Gigi’s drink takes a while, one of the liquor bottles empty and another bartender needs to step away and pull out a bottle from the back. You wave a hand, smiling and assuring it’s fine, giving basic courtesy. Now sitting at the bar, you pull out your phone and respond to a few texts idly, looking up when someone talks to you, an “Excuse me?” makes you Loft your head up to find someone standing beside you, looking at you expectantly.

- “Hello?” You offer, brows furrowed and eyes squinted, confused and a bit irritated already. “Oh — you didn’t hear me then. I just asked what your name was.” You just stare, dead into this poor fuck’s soul and blink, sipping at your drink. Refusing to speak, you just glare and wait for them to leave you be so you can grab your girlfriends drink and return to her side. “Okay, so no to that then.” They trail off, sitting beside you and ignoring the blatant hints you keep dropping about wanting to be left the fuck alone.

- “So, what brings you here?” Comes their latest attempt at prodding you to speak more, their head tilted and mouth smiling, assuming you’ll give in and just tell them all about yourself. Fuck that. “Damn, what’s got you all bent out of shape? Here to nurse a breakup or some shit?” Your eyes lower to slits, glaring harshly ahead at the mirrored reflection of the bar towards the persons head, wishing you could make their skull explode with your mind.

- at another silence, they seem to get fed up, growing irritated and irate. “Oh c’mon, how stuck up are you?” Your eye twitches. “Can’t even respond—“ They’re cut off, and you feel a familiar weight lay across your shoulder and Gigi’s perfume meets your nose. You grin at the bastard across from you, knowing his fate has now been decided by a much more merciless and cutthroat person than yourself.

- “Can’t you even take a hint, with your pathetic nosy ass trying to play twenty questions with a taken person.” Gigi drawls, nails drumming against your shoulder and you peer up at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she pauses for the drama of it all — god you love this woman. “Move on, you waste of actual air and space, before I shove my fresh manicure down your throat and extricate that useless spine of yours and make it a backscratcher.”

- as expected, they leave, rapidly in fact and abandoning a wallet you loot and steal the ID from, passing it to Gigi who places a call to get the shithead disappeared. She sits and takes their seat at the bar, her purse and your things in hand as she places a hand on your thigh comfortingly, thumb rolling circles and shapes into you. “You okay?” She asks softly, meeting your eyes and you smile, patting her hand and squeezing it once, twice. “I’m fine, and besides, it was fun watching you. Look so hot doing that.”

- Gigi beams, laughing as she rests her elbow against the bar, cheek in her palm as she stares at you, her other hand on your thigh still and tracing shapes idly, just glad to be close to you and keep you close. “It’s better than when you let me grab drinks, you knocked some random fucker out last time.” She starts, smirking at your sudden frustration that she evokes. “Hey! You know that dim-dicked motherfucker deserved it — and how was I supposed to know his cheek couldn’t handle my fist through it.”

- you’re about to justify your actions when Gigi’s drink is finally poured before you both, slid into her awaiting hands and you lose track of thought once you see her take it in hand and the slow drag of her throat as she swallows a sip, the print of her lipstick against the glass. “Fuck — what was I saying.” You burst out, brows furrowed again in honest confusion and she laughs, squeezing your thigh, and you realize you honestly couldn’t care less.

Andre Lee:

- there’s two sides to the jealousy, proudly watching as you dismiss people and their attempts at sweeping you off your feet and pointing to him wherever he is with an earnest grin and wave, him waving back being fully assured that you’re his and his alone.

- there’s the additional side that’s possessive as hell and knows you’re a catch, and Andre’s insecure and doesn’t want to lose one of the best things that’ve ever happened to him. So the second he can, he pulls you aside to fuck you like a jackrabbit in the nearest room and make sure whichever person — or people — that were interested get to hear you cry out for him as he brings you to the brink of orgasm over and over, the only one getting to see you like that and taste so good on his lips.

- Andre’s in the middle of conversing with Gigi and Brett across the room and see some little shit try and slide up while you’re alone, watching as your smile grows awkward and eyes scan for him, then secure on the person before you as you scoff at something and close down your body language. Your back straightens and eyes dim to leers as you stare down the person before you, and Andre’s already biting his lip while Brett catches he’s not paying attention, turning his head to his line of sight and clueing in Gigi, who both roll her eyes and smiles while taking a sip of her cosmo.

- “Go on and save them before they break that bitches neck,” Gigi suggests, smiling and promoting Brett to nod along, smiling too. Andre just shakes his head a fraction, a small grin of his own on as he finishes the end of his drink, tossing out the cup before nodding his head in your general direction.

- “But where’s the fun in that — just wait a sec’ then they’ll ditch ‘em. That’s when I come in.” Andre muses, already excited and thrumming for what’s to happen next, the routine so constant he’s nearly blessed with a Pavlovian response in how he knows what’s to occur soon. He can practically taste you on his lips anyhow, and he’s jittery, like a wound up toy aching to be let go to putter around.

- and they all watch as, sure enough, you send the poor bastard with their tail tucked between their legs and scurrying away, ego and pride demolished in your presence as you brandish a evil little smirk and swipe your lips across the edge of your glass and finish it. Andre rolls his sleeves with an equally evil little giggle before he approaches, watching as you lick up a stray drop from your beverage away as it lingered at the bottom of your lip, turning to him with a pouty mouth and lidded, heady eyes.

- “and there you are.” You marvel, adjusting so he can sit at the bar stool beside you and lean in close, placing a brief, take peck at your lips that you cast aside in efforts to bite at his mouth, letting him taste your drink off your tongue. “Julep?”

- “close, was a mojito.” You chime, nose nudging his in a disgustingly cute manner before you lean back, lips glossed now in his spit. He loves how it looks on you. “Nice try though.” You murmur, sparing him a glance as you fish out bills from your wallet and pay your shared tab, smacking his hand away when he tries to pay — you nearly growl and he tries so hard not to laugh.

- as you paid, Andre turns and locks eyes with the fucker that tried to talk you up and flips him off with a cheery, eat shit smile before you can turn around. He feigns nonchalance but you see through it anyhow, shoving your receipt in the bag and taking his hand before walking out to the exit hall and quickly drag him into the bathrooms — slinking in and dragging him by his tie as you step backwards so he presses you against the sink.

- Andre helps you up, mouthing at your jaw as you paw and nudge at his belt, managing to unbuckle it as his slide your own bottoms down and underwear too, teasing you with eager hands as you moan out, head angled and resting against the mirror. He works quickly, shucking his pants down to his mid thighs where they bunch so he can fuck his fist then grind against you, sending your belly clenching and hips swiveling, eager for friction.

- and if that poor bastard happened to try and use the restroom, peek in just a fraction, they’d see Andre jackhammering into you and his bright, devilish smirk meet their eyes in the mirror reflection. His form covered the expanse of yours, keeping you covered but leaving your face exposed, eyes wide shut as you cry his name and praise him and his skill over and over, turning into a puddle from his ministrations and sending the bastard running — Andre considers it a win.

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