#robotus x reader
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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
#inside job#my inside job#personal inside job#halloween#halloween smut#magic myc#myc x reader#magic myc x reader#Reagan ridley#Reagan ridley x reader#Reagan x reader#brett hand#brett x reader#brett hand x reader#andre x reader#andre Lee#andre lee x reader#robotus#alpha beta robotus#Robotus x reader#alpha beta Robotus x reader#my thots#inside job headcanon#inside job imagine
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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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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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Robotus has the chance to take over the world, unfortunately he also cares for y/n
SFW, gender neutral, light swearing
Robotus gets what he wants, maybe Robo Raegan comes to him with supplies, breaks him out, and fixes him to convince him to take revenge on Raegan and the team/the whole human race.
Only Robotus has y/n now, he's been planning for this, regardless of everything there had still been some part of his processors that had been working on this kind of plan. Only, if he wipes out humanity, that includes you, so it'd just become this....back thought
So of course he has to play it sly, he can't let Robo Raegan finish the plan either after all!
Unfortunately this scheme of his also makes him the enemy, and you believe he may have truly betrayed you, sided with robo raegan. His mechanical heart cracks seeing the heartbreak in your eyes, even if he's doing all this FOR YOU. He can't say a damn thing, but he sneers, pretends he doesn't care in hopes it'll keep you away and safe, he should've known better, y/n was always too stubborn.
Robo Raegan figures Robotus might betray her, so she takes y/n captive as an extra excentive to cooperate near the end; the great doomsday device lights the area a sickly green.
Robotus almost does it when your life is threatened, despite your yelling for him not to he falters, seeing her fingers choke you. He knows his coding is needed to complete the device, sending the world into a blackout of extreme magnitude, and beginning further destruction.
Y/n struggles in Robo Raegan's grip, when the structure shakes and the light flickers a few times before plunging them into darkness. Suddenly Brett and Raegan are charging into the fray, y/n getting knocked to the edge of the platform as the humans scuffle with robo raegan.
Robotus' night vision clicked on ages ago and he's scrambling to grab y/n's hand, lifting you to safety just as the rest of the gang shows up to help finish off Robo Raegan. The others are genuinely shocked to see just how gentle he is with you, checking over each cut and scrape. Brett is completely for it, dude just loves love, and gushes to Raegan about creating a robot that could love. Raegan rants to Brett and the others about the pain this will be to clean up, as y/n and Robotus moved down to ground level where Robotus could patch you up.
Raegan still isn't sure(trust issues ahoy), but the others convince her to at least let him stay onsite with y/n, after all he did sort of stop Armageddon(and sort of almost started it but details, details)
(Alternatively I could write also evil y/n lol Robotus would enslave the human race for y/n, such romance♡)
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I wanna fall asleep with these freaks 💓🥺
I am the eepiest sleepiest little guy of all time and this activated a Worm in my Brain so this is gonna get SO LONG AMSDNAMSND
sfw!! just snuggles and soft things
Reagan
Not extremely cuddly? She likes her personal space!
That doesn't mean she never wants cuddles, she's just gotta be in a particular Mood for it!
Most nights, she wants to be kinda,, gently curled into your arm?? just a loose grip around it w/ her own, cheek resting on your bicep.
She talks in her sleep, but it's very quiet. Usually it's just her going through her schedule for tmrw (does she?? dream of work in her sleep???), but occasionally, you'll hear her mumbling about how much she loves you <333
Yes, it's just as cute as it sounds. She has no memory of it in the morning, but if you bring it up, she'll get this flustered little Half-Smile alllll morning <3
She falls asleep so fast. if you wanna be cute w/ her while cozied in bed I'm so sorry, the second she feels Safe and Warm and Cozy in your vicinity she's passing out for 4-12 hours ✨✌🏻
It's alright, you know she needs her rest <3 besides, that just opens up options for you two to be soft and shmoopy in the morning
Brett
Unsurprisingly, the cuddliest guy of all time. He would be inside your ribcage if the opportunity was provided KJASDKASJD
He really likes?? laying on your chest and stomach?? he likes to be significantly further down. occasionally you'll just,, barely see his hair and the top of his forehead peaking out from the covers from how low he gets
it's just so comfy! he likes The Noises and Warmth and Vague Suffocation that comes w/ sleeping w/ his head under the covers, resting against your torso <3
He smiles so much in his sleep. you didn't think ppl did that outside of movies, but he totally does <3 usually only when he's having a particularly good dream.
OH ALSO HIS BED IS SO FUCKING COZY
I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS MAN DOESN'T QUILT. HE HAS SO MANY BEAUTIFUL HAND-MADE QUILTS AND BLANKETS AND KNITTED SHIT IN HIS BED. I hope you like being cozy bc you're gonna be The Coziest Of All Time.
He also sleeps with stuffed animals! He always did as a child bc his treehouse was always cold as hell, and the habit just stayed with him!
they're so well-kept and soft all these years later <3 usually he just keeps them at the foot of the bed, bc it makes him feel safe to, but occasionally he'll bring a couple up for you two to snuggle <3 You Are Never Too Old To Snuggle A Stuffed Bear Don't Like To Yourself.
Andre
A Nightmare (affectionate)
not only is his sleep schedule Entirely Batshit, but he has so much trouble falling asleep. expect lots of tossing and turning
he does settle a lot thought when you hold him!! Don't hold too close, he still needs to squirm a lot to actually fall asleep
You're also the only person that he gets a full nights sleep with <3 he usually ends up waking up in the night, his mind starts working on smth, and he doesn't go back to sleep <3 but with you, it's almost instantaneous.
A little Jump, a bit of squirming to get into a comfortable position, and then off to seeb again <3 it's nice to see just how safe he feels around you <3
Expect plenty of early morning/late night convos <3 hell even middle of the night convos, where he hasn't realised that he fell asleep and instantly hops back into Whatever He Was
He also has such a habit of. Continuing Conversations From His Dream. like he'll just grab your arm and start talking about Yes I'm Sure If We Distilled It Enough We Could Make Whiskey Out Of Lighter Fluid Myc before passing out cold MASNFASMFJ
TLDR. squirmy silly man, but also enjoyable to seeb with.
Gigi
OUGHEEEEEEEEAWBABWBAGOURGHR <- experiencing wife fevers
SO COZY HOLY SHIT
I refuse to believe she doesn't have a Big Comfy Bed. Silk covers, big thick duvet, more pillows that she knows what to do with. The bed is 3 times the size of her so when you catch her snuggled up in bed she truly just looks like those photos of Very Small Puppies in Very Large Beds MNASDMASND
So cuddly <3 you wouldn't expect it, since she makes a point of being seen as very Untouchable and Independent, but she loves to be held.
Her ideal state is nuzzled under your chin, feeling your pulse through your neck <333 a leg hooked around yours to make sure you're nice and close.
She takes a while to fall asleep, so she likes to go to bed early! Feel free to join her at any time, she'll just be dozing <3
If you do join her when she goes to bed, expect some,, very soft, lovey-dovey moments. she looks utterly adorable, all bundled up in her cozy little slightly-too-poofy nightgown and eye mask.
She Deserves 1000000 Cheek Smooches Or Else You Shall Die Of Love Disease <- her favourite part of the night. she will start giggling the moment she feels your lips on her cheeks and neck.
kisses her 1000. she's the most
Myc
HE OWNS A WATERBED I KNOW THIS FUCKING MAN OWNS A WATERBED
A FREEFLOW WATERBED TOO. NO SUPPORT IT FEELS LIKE YOU'RE FLOATING.
It's actually pretty comfortable after you get used to it. you see the appeal, it's kinda got that Sensory Deprivation Tank feeling of weightless floating <3
Expect to be utterly Mummified in tentacles AKSDJASKJ
He insists that it's so that you don't go tossing and turning in your sleep and knock his ass off the bed but. You See Through His Lies You Understand. You See The Jackassery At Play Here.
OUGHEEE he has such a habit of like. swirling his tentacles gently around your skin. Not necessarily stroking back and forth, moreso massaging? if you have any knots in your back, thighs, or arms, they're gonna be gone by morning.
Fairly quiet? That doesn't mean silent though, he absolutely talks while you two drift off to sleep, but it's all in very quiet tones. A Little Shit, But Lovingly. (you may. gently have to bop him on the head and tell him to Shut The Hell Up Its 3 Am Goddamn Not Everyone's Job Is Just Sitting Around Getting Jacked Off MANSDMASNDMANSDMN)
Glenn
He snores like a foghorn I'm so sorry. the old man of all time
If you can look past that though, he's so fucking delightful to sleep with <33 most especially bc he loves when you lay on him
he says smth about how it Helps Unfuck His Back, but you're at least 45% sure that that isn't the main reason
(and you're right, it isn't <3 he just loves feeling your weight on him)
He loves just,, leaving a hand against your back, running up and down as you settle in to sleep <33 before leaving it to rest on the small of your back <33 love is so real and true.
his tail wags in his sleep
HIS TAIL WAGS IN HIS SLEEP
HIS TAIL WAGS IN HIS SLEEP
You'll see this most when he's sleeping on his stomach, bc when he's on his back his tail can't move, and on his side Everything Hurts At All Times KAJDKASJ
You'll see it squirm around the most when you're touching him <3 if you run your hands through his hair, or trace patterns on his back that things gonna be WHIPPING like a wheatstalk in a hurricane.
^ this also applies to. early morning and late night cuddles. in the morning its more of a,, slow waggle? like you'll just see it gently twitching under the bed, while you place kisses on his cheek BAWBBABWBABW <- if I talk about his tail any more we'll never be done
just the guy of all time <3 go sleep with that old man go do it go do it now go go go go g
JR
Let Him Sleep On The Booba
Truly he sleeps best with his face buried in your chest. what can he say, it's cozy as hell.
his ideal state is being Unconscious. A Coma. Laying horizontally being fed nutrients through a tube. He will nap on you at any possible moment
It's one of the time's he feels Truly Safe? Like he's constantly having to run around doing what the Shadow Board wants, doing what Rand wants, etc. Sometimes You Just Need A Little Nap With Your Partner To Be Okay Again
He IS freezing cold I refuse to believe otherwise. he runs Ice Cold and it takes him 15 minutes to warm up. feels a bit like cuddling a corpse until your body heat brings him back to Human Levels Of Warmth.
The things we do for love smh MNSFGKFAJSFGKSDJ
stupid rich expensive bed. imported silk sheets. mathematically optimised mattress designed in a lab to give him The Best Sleep Possible. he's rich enough to buy several countries, he might as well put it to use.
Alpha-Beta
OUGHEEEEEEEEAWBABWBAGOURGHR <- experiencing wife fevers part 2
He's such a heavy sleeper MY GOD. If you couldn't hear his internal systems whirring and clicking you'd think he was dead KJDSAKFJASDKFJDSA
It isn't really his fault - his 'sleep cycle' likes to be done in one solid stretch, to avoid file corruption, which means. His body just,, won't wake him up unless it senses Active Danger to himself or you.
It's fine! He'll wake up if the house is on fire. Probably.
'aww you're such an old man <3' <- he's going to push you into a woodchipper AKSGJSAKDJFKSDFGJ
He's so warm and cozy <3
Upside, personal heater during the winter. Downside, summer is hell for both of you (Upside, he sleeps mostly naked in summer to avoid Dying of Death Disease)
Hold him <3 hold him he won't ask but he loves being held, even more than he loves holding you (which is. Saying Something). The second he feels your arms wrap around him, maybe one of your hands gently fussing with his hair? Out like a light <3 its sweet, all those unspoken ways that shows how much he loves you <3
ABWBABWBAB I swear I did an ask like this before but. I don't care this was so cute. If you have any additions, go nuts!
#I wrote some sections of this hile sick cold so if it's incoherent at any point. gently bop me on the head and lmk KANFMANF#my brain feels a bit like Gelatine#inside job#inside job x reader#*cracks bones* oughe tagtime#Alpha-Beta#alpha-beta x reader#robotus alpha-beta#robotus alpha-beta x reader#gigi thompson#gigi thompson x reader#reagan ridley#reagan ridley x reader#glenn dolphman x reader#glenn dolphman#andre lee#andre lee x reader#myc#magic myc#myc x reader#myc cellium#myc cellium x reader#u h#brett hand#brett hand x reader#JR scheimpough#jr scheimpough x reader#sfw#U H....#I THINK THAT'S ALL?
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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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system reboot
#inside job#robotus inside job#robotus alpha beta#x reader#digital art#my art#sketch#artist on tumblr
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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
#inside job#inside job x reader#raegan ridley#raegan ridley x reader#brett hand#brett hand x reader#gigi thompson#gigi thompson x reader#andre lee#andre lee x reader#glenn dolphman#glenn dolphman x reader#myc cellium#myc cellium x reader#rand ridley#rand ridley x reader#jr scheimpough#jr scheimpough x reader#alpha beta inside job#alpha beta robotus#alpha beta#alpha beta x reader#jrand#inside job fanart
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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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since I can't sleep I've been thinking of Christmas headcanons since it's almost that month ww
• you and Brett go all out with decorating the office!! and at first everyone's like???? it's not even December wtf but soon enough they get dragged in by puppy eyes and pout from you two. they'll all eventually get into the spirit and enjoy decorating
• ngl the office will probably look like a disaster to people outside of the group nshmsjk like, everyone has their own personal touch that they wanna add, whether it's for jokes or not. it's v chaotic but you wouldn't have it any other way<33
• the tree is huge btw, and it's absolutely covered in ornaments and tinsel
• Also!! going down to where Robotus is and decorating the basement!! at first both Reagan and Robotus are like?? what's the point???? but Robotus does appreciate it even if he doesn't admit it,, makes him feel included even if he isn't actually there
• like setting up fairy lights that change color, giving him his own tree, asking if there's anything he wants on the tree or what topper he wants
• convincing Reagan to give him Christmas movies to watch too!!
• omg you know that story where someone played what's new pussycat on a jukebox over and over with a different song in the middle??? Myc would do that and play all I want for Christmas is you on the speakers on repeat with one other Christmas song that plays after like 8 times. he's enjoying watching everyone go insane
• imagine walking by the office and just hearing "I don't want a lot for Christmas" and then everyone just collectively losing their shit hnshdkbd
• Glenn probably ends up breaking the speakers smnsksb everyone just sits there like,,, it's so quiet now,
• baking sugar cookies cut into Christmas shapes for the gang and bringing frosting and sprinkles so they can decorate them!!
• it either turns into a frosting war or a competition of who can decorate the best cookie ever. either way, wherever the decorating is happening, it won't stay clean
• also, the thought crossed my mind 'oh! what if they all baked together!!' and it seemed cute at first but then I realized that's a horrible idea shsnkdhk not just the kitchen, but the whole place would be a complete mess
• Brett comes in one day with a bunch of ugly sweaters that he picked for the group. at first everyone's like,, I don't wanna wear that, but he convinces them to, and they won't deny, he did a good job picking out sweaters for them
• getting presents for them is gonna be hard because Myc will absolutely try to read your mind and find out what you're getting everyone. everytime you're near him you have to distract yourself or actively think about other things
• he's teasing you like come onnn you know you wanna think about it~ it must be tiring thinking of all these other things~ just oneee little thought? I promise I won't tell<3
• I'm sure he doesn't care too much about Christmas, but he does appreciates the dedication you have to make sure what you got him stays a surprise. probably not a lot of people have done that
• spoiling everyone with presents!! they probably aren't used to it, or really done this with eachother (sure they've decorated the place a bit but not to this extent) so when they see presents under the tree they're like oh,,? we're supposed to get presents? and they start to! when Christmas arrives there's just a huge stack of presents for everyone
• always making sure everyone feels included and as happy as they can be
• like, I'm thinking,, I'm not sure about the others, but Brett and Reagan probably never really had a proper Christmas so like,,, I just wanna let them have a good, proper Christmas hmmgehrh,,,,,
#inside job x reader#brett hand x reader#andre lee x reader#gigi thompson x reader#glenn dolphman x reader#magic myc x reader#reagan ridley x reader#robotus x reader#after i wrote the all i want for Christmas is you headcanon#its been stuck in my head
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Inside Job Text Prefs
texts to send them abandoning their work and stripping their clothes off while running to you:
JR scheimpough
— “My lunch meeting just got canceled. Also, I’m not wearing any panties.”
Andre Lee
— “want to fuck while testing your new strain?”
Brett Hand
— “I want a baby.”
Glenn Dolphman
— “anyway we can get clearance to fuck in the tank? I heard the seat’s comfy.”
Reagan Ridley
— “Filled the coffee pot. Btw, want to break in your new office, CEO?”
Gigi Thompson
— “saw you earlier while grabbing coffee. You look tired. My face is free to rest on.”
Alpha Beta Robotus
— “I’ve got a new idea for a dick modification. Also, you look good today.”
Myc Celium
— “want to see how many flagella you can put in me? I feel like breaking our record.”
Ron Staedtler
— “it’ll count as repentance if you kneel between my thighs.”
#reagan ridley#jr scheimpough#brett hand#glenn dolphman#andre lee#gigi thompson#myc#robotus alpha beta#inside job#personal inside job#my writing#my inside job#JR scheimpough x reader#reagan ridley x reader#brett Hand x reader#Gigi Thompson x reader#andre lee x reader#myc x reader#robotus x reader#alpha beta x reader#glenn dolphman x reader#ron staedtler#Ron Staedtler x Reader
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"If you weren't my husband, you'd be d*ad..."
As soon as i find a gremlin to fixate on... the show gets cancelled...
I can't 🚶♂️
♡Reblogs over likes ♡
#robotus#robotus inside job#robotus alpha beta#robotus x reader#robotus is my husband#robotus babygirl <3#inside job fanart#inside job#inside job self insert#save inside job#renew inside job
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hello! i heard you were looking for inside job related requests. so may i request some general reagan x reader relation hcs? have a great day!
a/n: sure thing anon :D!! i hope you have a good day as well :))!
extra info: reader is gender neutral so anyone is safe to read this :DD. also whenever reagan is mention speaking she’ll be bolded with green (+ brett being orange and robotus being blue since they’re being mentioned)
> you and reagan most likely met while you both are working at cognito, from there, everything played out what you two would’ve never expected.
> reagan was a little cautious to let you get close to her, probably because she doesn’t really know who you are.
> like she did with brett, she’ll literally find out everything about you, soon she’ll find herself much more interested in you then she thought she would be.
> she will probably casually bring up some things from your life so you could talk about it in more detail and wow, she’s vv much invested in whatever you’re saying.
> “heyyyy (Y/N), have you ever tried joining *insert whatever activity* ?” “oh gosh, i haven’t done that since highschool *proceeds to talk about it for the next hour as reagan listens*”
> god, now this seems like some childhood crush, she hates it SO much, she’s in so much denial, she couldn’t and can’t like you, liking a coworker is not a good idea.
> whenever she brought this up to either brett or robotus, she’s met with the realization that maybe she DOES like you.
> but she won’t really admit it out-loud
> “god i don’t know guys, they seem to stick to me, i don’t know how but it makes me feel all mushy i don’t like it” “maybe it’s the L word if you’re catching my drift reagan ;D” “what you talking about brett?” “im assuming it’s about love reagan, (Y/N) has been the main person you’ve been talking to lately besides brett. i’ve watched on the cameras”
> she tries to hype herself up to try and confess to you, she’s nervous she’ll admit that, REALLY nervous.
> she pulls you to the side after finishing a meeting with the gang, she decides to get this over with, weither or not this goes great she just wants this to get this over with.
> she’s muttering and stuttering through the whole confession like a idiot, but soon she got side tracked when you cut her off with your own confession (thank god).
> “y’know (Y/N), uh, i really like, yo- uh i mean, i..like..yo-“ “i like you too reagan, like a lot, i think you’re really smart and i like that about you” “wow… heh, thanks?”
> regan would probably take you to museums for dates on the regular, theyre the sexiest places on earth cmon now, she loves them a lot, cmon.
> she also likes to ramble on a lot about either her inventions or like whatever stuff she’s interested in at the moment.
> she would love listening to you as well as she works since she would at least something to listen to while she does her work. she also just loves it when you talk but she doesn’t like admitting it
i hope this is good enough and pls tell me if this is what you meant dear anon, have a good day, noon, or night :DD
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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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hey uhhh, yeah we connected your robot boyfriend to the internet. uh huh and- yeah now he’s vowed to destroy humanity, yep. Yeah we took his legs. He’s in The Tube now. Sorry :/
#he's really funny now tho#AMSNDASMDN#should. should I tag this as X Reader. does this count.#alpha-beta#robotus alpha-beta#MDNFM#inside job#sillies#I need all of you to know I put this in my drafts only a few weeks after the cancellation. this is how I was coping KJFDKSGJKSDFJGKJKFD
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Requests are OPEN !!!
Never posted any of my writing before and I barely know how to use tumblr but I am PUMPED please send requests I want to make all your y/n dreams come true-
I’m only writing for Inside Job and The Stanley Parable right now, I’ve got an introduction post pinned with some specifics but the rules are pretty basic (no weird/morally reprehensible asks, you know)
Requests don’t have to be x reader but I’m in A Mood so any that are will be taking priority for a minute-
#andre lee#andre lee x reader#robotus alpha beta#alpha-beta x reader#robotus alpha-beta x reader#brett hand#brett hand x reader#myc cellium#myc cellium x reader#myc x reader#reagan ridley#reagan ridley x reader#gigi thompson#gigi thompson x reader#glenn dolphman#glenn dolphman x reader#inside job x reader#tsp narrator#the narrator#tsp narrator x reader#the narrator x reader#the stanley parable#tsp x reader#inside job headcanon#tsp headcanon
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