#Cleaning Rodding Machine

[babyjakes]

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event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | fucking machine

pairing | porn director!ari levinson x pornstar!reader

warnings | reader is an amateur pornstar, ari is her beloved director. emphasis on safe/consensual sex practices (safe word mention.) mild dom!ari vibes. foreplay: nipple and clit play. fucking machine. spitting. orgasm permission + she comes :D

word count | 1,049

thinking about porn director!ari helping you, his favorite little star, take the machine for the first time 🥺 maybe you're fairly new to the line of work and you've only done tamer shoots so far. this is your first taste of intenser porn elements; you're just trying it out with ari before going through a proper shoot with cameras and everything because you're not sure how you'll take it or if you'll like it

ari is super protective of you and wants to make sure you're safe throughout the entire process. he insists it's just you and him because he doesn't want any outside pressure or elements potentially making it hard for you to advocate for yourself or ask to stop if you need to. you trust him so much, he's been so wonderful to you and you feel so much safer knowing it'll be just you and him in the studio 💕

he gets everything ready before you arrive, arranging a comfy leather chaise for you to lay on and setting up the machine/testing out to make sure it works. he gets lube, a few different toys in case you'll want them, and clean up/aftercare stuff all set out as well. he told you to wear whatever you want, whatever's comfy. when you arrive in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, he thinks you look so adorable and perfect just the way you are 🥺

he sits with you for a little while beforehand, talking you through everything that'll happen so you understand the machine and there'll be no surprises. he makes you feel so safe and supported, reminding you several times that you can stop at any time, making sure you remember the safe word, etc. he's smiling so big at you when you nod to let him know you're reading, "i'm so proud of you, sweetheart. i promise we'll make it feel good. and if you need anything, you just let me know. that's my job, i'm here to make things easy and comfortable for you"

he has the machine close enough so he can sit on the edge of the chaise there with you and adjust it as necessary. when you're ready, he lets you undress and lay back. he just has such a way of making you feel so secure around him, he's smiling so sweetly at you as he takes some time to rub your thighs, easing your legs open as you relax for him. he takes plenty of time loving on you the ways he knows you love best, gently playing with your nipples before moving down to rub your clit a little bit

"there we go. just relax for me, angel," he's coaxing you as you grow warm and wet beneath his fingers. "gotta get you nice and ready, princess. that feel good, right there? you can tell me what you need, honey. i'll take care of you." once you're adequately warmed up, he pulls away and preps the silicon attachment with lube anyway, just to prevent any friction or discomfort. "you ready, sweetheart? just remember your word, okay? the moment you say, we stop." your enthusiastic nod and gentle smile convince him you're ready

"okay baby, here we go. gonna ease it in," he explains as he gently extends the rod up to press the tip of the dildo against your leaky hole. "bit of a stretch here, deep breaths," he talks you through it as the rubber object is slowly but steadily worked up into you. "good girl, almost there," he hums as he reaches a good stopping point, making sure the thrusts won't push in too far or hit your cervix painfully

rubbing your inner thigh soothingly, asking, "you ready for me to turn it on, princess? we'll start slow, but it'll be intense. you just let me know if you need something on your clit- sometimes that helps with the pressure"

he starts you out on the lowest setting, watching carefully to see how you react. your immediate soft moans and melting into the couch are good signs hehe 🫶 his face is beaming with pride as you lie back and let the machine fuck you, watching as your eyes roll back slightly and your legs tremble as they fall to either side

"g-god," you're groaning as you're pounding steadily, "you should've l-let me do this sooner"

he's chuckling as your words are distorted by the rhythm of the machine. "i needed to make sure you were ready, pretty girl. and look at you, you're taking it so well," he knows it drives you crazy when he talks to you like that, and it's working alright!!

"m-more," you're soon begging, "faster, p-please!"

he can't help but laugh lightheartedly a bit more at your enthusiasm and impatience, nodding as he bumps you up a bit in speed. you let out the sweetest, happiest sighs as the repeated pounding rocks the entire couch. wanting to make the experience as good as possible for you, he goes back to cupping your tit with one hand, patting lovingly over your swollen clit with the other. his added stimulation makes your body jerk and writhe weakly, broadening his proud smile

"go ahead, baby. take what you need. you want it faster?" he asks as he twists and tugs at your hardened nipple. your pleading nod prompts him to boost you up another few notches, the machine growing a bit noisier as you're now fucked a bit more forcefully. wiggling yourself down a bit, you dare to let the tip of the rubber cock hit up perfectly against your weak spot. the build-up to your orgasm seems to happen over the span of mere seconds, but ari sees it happening

"p-please, i'm gonna-" you're panting weakly as you teeter towards the edge. he knows you so well, he can somehow tell exactly what you need to get you there. he brings his hand up, spitting on his fingers before slapping them down over your clit, rubbing in furious circles

"go ahead, baby. you've been so good. you can go ahead and come," his permission is all it takes- you come right then and there on that massive rubber dick as it pounds you into oblivion, ari's skilled fingers carrying through the wonderful high 💕

[the-californicationist]

The Window (Ch. 02)

Tw: breeding kink, reverse harem gangbang MDNI

This is a repost sorry I’m trying to fix a broken link situation. Just ignore me.

The waiting was the worst part. You tried not to stare at the pregnancy test strip while it was still loading. A watched pot never boils, or whatever that saying was. You scrolled through your phone, you paced back and forth, and you listened to the murmuring voices on the other side of the door, eagerly awaiting the good news.

But, there wouldn’t be any celebrating. Not this month.

You threw the negative strip in the trash and tried to hold it together. You had been flipping through online baby stores, looking at cribs, watching videos about safety, and reading the towering stack of what-to-expect books that Soap’s mom had bought for you (you still hadn’t forgiven him for telling her, but you sent her a sweet thank-you card). And yet… it felt like it was all for nothing.

You imagined what it must be like for those women who got pregnant if a strong wind blew too hard that day, and you tried to fight the pang of jealousy. Then, you thought about your team. The disappointed look on their faces would be so hard to bear. But, you needed to let them know.

The door handle was cold in your hands as you popped it open and left the bathroom. When you looked up at the group, they were all sat, patiently waiting to hear what you’d come to report. It was quiet at first, and then Kyle raised his hands, an eager expression of joy on his face,

“Well?”

By the sudden, pained look in your eyes, he got his answer. In a flash, you were buried in Simon’s chest, wrapped in his huge arms, hearing him whisper,

“It’s alright, love. Next time.”

You felt Price’s palm on the nape of your neck, and Johnny had grabbed your hand. You fought the tears, overwhelmed by their support.

Simon broke his hug and sat down with you. You told them,

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I just can’t seem to —”

“No, lass. I willnae sit here and listen to you blame yourself,” Johnny protested.

“Agreed,” Simon nodded, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Price sighed, and his men looked up at him for guidance. So, he said,

“We’ll just have to double our efforts. We’re not giving up, love. Don’t you worry.”

A warm hand circled around your shoulders from the other side of the sofa, and you saw Kyle’s face light up with mischief,

“I like the sound of that plan.”

And that’s how you ended up in Price’s quarters, surrounded by all of your soldiers, getting pumped full of their thick come.

Gaz was pounding his length into your body like a machine. The wet schlicking noise your pussy was making for him filled the room, mixing with the dark, deep moans from the others as they watched you take his long shaft.

You were laying on the bed, propped up a bit with your head resting on Price’s huge thigh, watching him fist his fat, uncut rod inches from your face, waiting his turn. He was petting your forehead, telling you what a pretty little girl you were and how much he was looking forward to filling you up to your limit.

Ghost sat on the edge of the bed, jerking himself off languidly, lolling his soft tongue across your nipple, sucking it when he wanted to, leaving pink marks on your skin. Meanwhile, Johnny had situated his mouth right over your clit, not really minding Gaz and his pounding, eating you like he was going to starve to death.

You’d lost count of your orgasms, but you thought you were still in the single digits. Simon’s come was already frothing, packed deep inside of you from his earlier spend, coating your walls and Gaz’s shaft as he worked. The wetness made his cock gleam like a shining popsicle, and you wanted to lick him clean.

It was so erotic, you couldn’t help but cry out,

“Mmffuck! Kyle… please. Oh, my fucking God!”

“Good girl,” he smiled, panting, “You ready for more?”

You nodded your head, turning your cheek toward John, looking for his comfort. You laid your hand on the back of Simon’s head and encouraged him to suck a little harder.

John’s warm hand pet your cheek as he looked down at you,

“Here, love. Need something to suck on? C’mon. It’ll make you feel so full, won’t it.”

He pointed his swollen head down toward your lips and let you suckle from the drooling tip, comforting yourself with his flesh, enjoying his musky taste.

You felt Johnny’s mouth begin to suck at your clit’s rigid body, using his smooth tongue to push it back and forth, making Gaz’s every thrust feel like pure electricity. Your body arched into it, and even though your grunting and screaming were muffled by the captain’s cockhead, you came with a swirling, all-encompassing bliss, letting the glittering sensation rush through your veins like a drug.

“Pretty girl,” John held your cheek gently, feeling it swell with his hardness, “You look so beautiful when you come for us.”

“Fuck,” Gaz sighed, “She’s so bloody tight. I can’t… I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

The whole room watched as he unloaded his pleasure into you, seeing his face melt with joy, looking at how his cock had stretched its way into you, pulsing now with each drop of his thick come.

“Tha’s it. Legs up for us, bonnie girl. Cannae have Gaz’s work go to waste, hm?” Soap grinned, helping you bend your hips up into position. Then, the moment Kyle stumbled back from you, Johnny eagerly took his place.

He wasn’t just hard, he was throbbing. His cockhead was rosy and pink, pulsating with his blood flow, ready and hungry for its hole. Johnny smiled down at you, his chin shiny and dripping from his meal, covered in you from cheek to cheek. He used his fingers to gently push Gaz’s stray load back inside of you and followed it with his cock.

Johnny wasn’t nearly as long as Gaz, but he was curved just right, arched and girthy, perfect for your already-sensitive g-spot. His feral thrusting had you crying out as you pulled your mouth away from Price, turning to face him in shock. His hands were busy, too. Johnny spread your legs apart by your knees and held them aloft, trying to keep all of the wet, creamy gifts you’d been given deep inside you.

In almost no time at all, he was ready to burst inside of you. Ever since he’d begun, you’d felt like you were riding the high of one long, never-ending orgasm, and you felt your pussy clenching around him, well-used and pliant.

“Holy fuck, lass. You’re so full of us. Gonna be drippin’ outta you all night, I’ll bet.”

“Are you gonna fill me up, Johnny?” You keened, knowing how much he liked it when you teased him.

“Jesus Christ, Sparrow,” Soap’s eyes furrowed, looking lost and then… he found himself. His orgasm raced through his body, bursting from his shaft in long, hot ropes of come, spending himself into you almost violently.

Barely able to breathe, he removed himself from you as gently as he could, wiping the fluids off of his cock and shoving them back into your well-used hole.

“Si,” Price commanded, “Can you hand me the plug?”

“Aye, Captain. Here,” Simon handed him the clean, girthy vaginal plug that the captain had purchased and passed it to him.

Carefully, Price reached down and wet it at your entrance before stuffing it inside of you, sealing his men’s semen inside.

“Wait,” you breathed, trying to get your brain back online, “What about you? It’s your turn.”

You looked up at him, glassy-eyed, and he grinned,

“I think you’ve got enough in there to last you the week, little bird.”

“But…” You tried not to sound selfish, but you couldn’t figure out how to ask for what you wanted.

Simon knew what you were trying to say, and he said it for you,

“She wants you, too, Cap. Full or not.”

“She’s spent, and she needs water and rest. She doesn’t need any more of —”

“Please?” You asked, watching him get up from the bed and move to get dressed, “Please, John.”

He put his shirt back on the chair and mounted you as if he was going to fuck you, pushing himself onto your body like an animal, pinning you down. His voice was a warning,

“Are you askin’ me ‘cause you think that’s wha’ I wanna hear, Spar?”

You shook your head, whispering, reeling from his display of power,

“No, I just… want you.”

Price sighed, running a wide hand down his face and looked over at his men. It seemed like he was asking for help, or permission. You didn’t fully understand, but Ghost did.

Simon stepped into his gym shorts and motioned for Gaz and Soap to follow him,

“Gonna hop in the shower. Still watchin’ MASH later, yeah?” Ghost put his huge hand on your forehead and brushed your hair out of your face.

“Aye,” Price nodded, watching them file out.

Johnny gave you his usual kisses, one on your lips and one on your forehead,

“Makin’ you popcorn, too, bonnie. Extra butter.”

You kissed him back, smiling at the boys as they left you alone with their leader.

You turned to him, waiting for him to decide, giving him a way out,

“Hey, if you don’t want to —”

“No,” he interrupted you, resting his impossibly fat cock on your folds, the head of him reaching past your belly button, “Tha’s not it, love. I want you so bad I can barely look at you. I just don’t wanna hurt you. Gonna be sore tomorrow, soldier,” he joked, trying to take the sincerity out of his voice, rubbing your outer lips with his thumbs, massaging the stretched muscles with care.

“You won’t hurt me,” you reached down and pet his shaft with your fingertips, pressing it into your belly, caressing it with the lightest touch. Against his will, it jerked up towards your hand in response.

He eyed you for a moment before twisting the plug out of you, not as mindful as Soap, letting the wet body of the toy rest on his sheets, covered in other men’s come.

Price dipped his thumb into your swollen hole, gathering up the mix of fluids onto the pad of his finger. He grabbed you by the nape of your neck and pulled you up, presenting this offering to you. Without breaking eye contact, you sucked his thumb into your mouth, eating the warm cream off of his hand.

Then, he angled himself toward you, still holding you upright, letting you watch as his cock stretched your lips wide and tight. Happy with his position, he tucked both of his hands around the back of your neck and began to rut into you like a wild beast.

You thought he was concerned about hurting you, but he didn’t hold back. If anything, he fucked you harder, as if he was trying to teach you — or himself — some kind of lesson. It was too intense. You could feel every inch of him as if you were being fucked for the first time. Your body trembled, and your mind swam, high from the continual hit of oxytocin, the pleasure making your thoughts dreamlike and surreal.

“Such a good girl for us,” he breathed, “Watchin’ you take their come like that. Bloody gorgeous. So willing. Your body just loves our cocks, don’t it?”

You nodded, trying to gasp for air, tumbling into an orgasm hard and fast.

“Yeah?” He grunted, “Fuckin’ hell. You fit me like a goddamn glove, little bird. I can feel them inside of you. All of their come. Feels so soft. So wet…”

“John… unghhh!” You came on him, but he didn’t let up. He just fucked you right through it, letting you suffer on his muscle, riding you hard and sloppy.

“Can’t wait to see you with that full, round belly. These big, heavy tits. Will you let me taste your milk, hm? Just a taste.”

He sucked your nipple into his mouth and laved at it with his tongue, sending bolts of pleasure right to your core. You weren’t sure what had gotten into your captain, but he was out of his mind with lust. His grunting and moaning were loud and shameless, and he manhandled your body like you belonged to him. Like you were his plaything.

“You are so beautiful…” John’s voice changed its timbre, and you met his eyes. There was something else he had to tell you, but he didn’t get the chance to say it. His face twisted into a mask of blissful agony and he let himself go, pumping his come deep inside of you, screaming in loud, barking shouts, holding you so tightly to him, you could barely breathe.

He fell on you, keeping his cock buried to its hilt, pulsing in you like a second heartbeat, totally spent. With the last bit of his energy, he fumbled with the plug and replaced himself with it, rolling off of you carefully, so as not to harm you.

Hours may have passed; you had no idea. But, since the others hadn’t come looking for you, you figured time was expanding only in your mind. You were pinned to Price’s furry body, covered in his heavy muscles as his little spoon, listening to him breathe. Eventually, when you could speak in full sentences again, you spoke softly.

“John,” you kissed his palm, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fallin’ for you, little bird,” he said with a cold, calculated certainty, “We all are. Don’t know how one baby can have four fathers.”

Your heart was crushed at the disappointment in his voice, and you turned to face him,

“So, what if it has four fathers? Will you love them less?”

“No,” he shook his head, “Of course not. If you… If you asked me to, I’d sign my bloody name no matter whose baby it was. Tha’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What are you worried about?” You put your hand on his cheek, making him look at you.

“I’m worried it’ll be too much for you. That we’ll be too much for you. You should do what makes you happy, little bird.”

He rolled out of bed and put his clothes back on in silence. When he was done, he helped you sit up and gave you some water. Wrapping you in a big fluffy robe, he pulled you to your feet and squeezed your hand,

“C’mon. Let’s go watch your show. The lad’s will be waitin’ for you.”

You followed your captain out to the common room, seeing that Simon and Johnny had saved you a seat between them. You smiled, settling into the middle of the couch, watching as Price sat in his big chair, lighting a cigar and stealing some popcorn from Gaz.

You couldn’t help but think about what he had said, nor could you stop thinking about the way that he had fucked you. Absent-mindedly, out of some form of comfort, you squeezed your tired muscles around the plug, wondering what the future held for you and these men. Could you care for them all? Was that even in the realm of possibility? It was so far from the accepted norm, you couldn’t envision a life like that. But, you were no quitter. If anyone was worth trying for, it was these four soldiers, and you decided you were going to do everything you could to care for them as much as they cared for you. Normalcy be damned.

///////////////////////

Ch. 03

[writingsbymo-mo]

More Tokyo Revengers Smut Headcanons

Featuring: Baji, Taiju, Sanzu, and Shion

Minors DNI

Some characters might have kinks that'll make some uncomfortable. Read at own risk

Keisukei Baji

Pyro: this can range anywhere from setting your pubes on fire and putting it out with his cum to setting things on fire to fuck you near it. Wax falls under this category also with setting the special wax candles on fire and drawing on your body with the hot, melted wax. Fire has always gotten him excited.

Bondage: has many ways to tie you up and leave you struggling. Can be a bit sadistic when this is involved.

Biting: watch out for those fangs of his because you're surely to have some marks and maybe a little drops of blood when he's done.

Hair pulling: loves it when you pull his hair, gets him groaning and his dick twitching every time.

Secretly has a blood kink. Also enjoys using toys and is a bit degrading

Taiju Shiba

Breeding: just seeing you stuffed with his cum gets him hard immediately. Won't stop until he's fully satisfied, until he knows you'll be carrying his child. Be ready to be fucked senseless every night and day

Spanking: if you've been bad, better be careful. He'll punish you until your ass his red and almost purple or until you beg and plead you'll be good.

Daddy: you call him daddy once and it made something in him snap. Loves it when you call him that when you're being punished or when you're pleading and begging for his dick

Dom: need we say more here? This man enjoys being in charge so being the one to pull the strings during sex, to be the one to make you so pliant beneath him, begging him for more. He pulls the reigns here. Might let you be on top a few times but he still needs to be the one in control.

Rough: bit of an understatement with him. Be ready to be broken in half and be unable to walk for a few days. Any fuck session with him is brutal like his fists. But don't worry, he'll make sure you can handle him.

Degrading and you know it

Sanzu

Knife kink: enjoys to threaten you with his knife. Licks it when a little blood gets on it. Sometimes, you're not sure if he actually plans on teasing you with it or if he really will hurt you. But that's just what he wants, to get off to the fear in your eyes.

Toys: most of his seem more like torture devices. Has quite a few bars to tie you up to so you can't move, vibrators, clamps, floggers and whips, electroshock toys, even has a fuck machine he can place any dildo to it as he pleases.

Overstimulation: he will fuck until both of you are hurting and pass out or, he'll use whatever toys he has at his disposal to turn you into a crying, drooling mess of yourself.

Sadist: he's a major sadist. Loves watching you cry in pain while you can't move to stop him. Just know when he starts, he won't want to stop.

Degradation: need we say more? Calls you a disgusting slut, whore, etc. Especially happens when he's overstimulating you.

Secretly has a praise kink. Tell him he's being so good for you, that he's the best you've had. Kiss his neck and scars. He'll become soft in your arms, almost fucking you lazily or rougher depending on how it gets him going.

Shion

Blood: will bite you and lap up drops of your blood. Might bite your tongue or lip a bit hard too. If you allow him, he'll leave little marks with a knife, enough for a little red to bead at the top of the cut. (F!Reader) On your period? Hope you don't mind him slurping and licking you clean. Little bonus when he finally gets that tongue ring.

Sadist: loves seeing you writhe in pain and pleasure. Often gets a bit too carried away with how rough he can get. Has all kinds of toys to use on you from clamps, sounding rods, plugs, vibrators, etc. Choking and breathplay also involved. Sex with his is very rough.

Degradation: he'll be calling you his little cock slut, watching you beg as he can't help but degrade you. Your his slut and he's gonna make you know it.

Cuckolding: some days, he wants to watch you get fucked by someone else whether it be one person or a group. Gets him so worked up as someone else fills you up, marks you, but he knows you're his at the end of the day. Prefers if it's people he knows or you know.

Secretly enjoys being spanked or having his hair pulled. Drives him crazy. But wait...he's also a bit of a masochist though this will take some experimenting to find it.

Also, very good with his tongue. He's very proud of that fact he can make anyone cum in less than a minute. Lots of slurping

[korpuskat]

Metal in Flesh

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (GN, has a vagina) Rating: E WC: 4.4k Warnings: None, it's pure smut & fluff. A special thank you to @statuetochka for indulging my silly ideas & drawing his hands so much. ===

He tastes like his machine oil. Freshly cleaned, not a trace of dirt between his purple-painted joints. It’s hard not to flex your tongue against him, to explore the little creases in his plates that tease the side of your tongue.

But the hand on your jaw and the precarious placement of his fingers- two under your tongue, his thumb on top, keep you still. He’s exploring. Though it’s not your tongue itself that he’s examining. He drags his thumb down, making the object of his obsession spin- a particularly strange feeling that is still novel even after so long healed.

It’s only taken him a few months into your relationship to notice- or at least to ask about it.

“…Why?” Is the particularly succinct question he comes up with.

“Becath aylikith”

Ramattra’s gaze lifts ever so slightly, from your pinned tongue to your face. Reluctantly, he lets go. You push saliva over your tongue, wetting it before you try speaking again.

“I said, because I like it. I like how it looks.”

“Aesthetics?” Ramattra tips his head, looks down to your lips. You obligingly open your mouth again and present the jeweled rod again. This time, he just looks at it, rather than trapping the muscle for investigation. “I would think that should hurt rather badly just for aesthetics.”

“It did.” You confirm. “When I first got it, it hurt a lot, I couldn’t even eat the first day. But it’s all healed now. Doesn’t hurt at all.” To prove it, you catch the bead on your top lip and pull your tongue sideways, making the entire piercing rotate again. “Besides, you’re in no place to judge; I know you also changed stuff on yourself for how it looked.”

He scoffs, “That is hardly the same. Repainting my enamel coat isn’t remotely painful, nor did it impair such a basic, important function as eating.” He touches the purple plate at the back of one hand with the other. It’s more subconscious than anything, but you still watch his hands with that same fascination. “Besides, my modifications aren’t exclusively aesthetics.”

You grin widely. That kind of stubbornness, the mild disdain in his vocoder… It’s so easy to goad him. “Neither is mine! It has a very good use, actually.”

Ramattra’s head actually bobs as he modulates a disbelieving noise, “Really? Exactly what functional purpose does a metal rod in your mouth serve?”

Excitement washes over you and you don’t bother trying to hide it. “I can show you! I’ve kind of been meaning to for a while, actually, but you keep insisting I don’t have to.” This alone makes his head twitch to the side, perplexed, intrigued. You reach for his hand, and he happily allows you to take it and bring it back to your face, much too curious.

Here, you pause and stare up at the dark slits for his optics. His huge fingers caress over your cheek, cool and firm against your skin as you gently kiss the circular rubber pad of his palm. Ramattra hums softly- which breaks into a stuttered, staticked mess of a noise as you lick that rubber pad. He can feel it, you’re almost sure given the twitching of his fingers against your cheek. Those pads are sensitive, meant for traction and precision- you know he must feel the warmth, the softness of your tongue completely surrounding the hard point of the piercing’s ball. Even with your spit, the metal drags against rubber, catching on the textured ridges.

“You--” His voice cuts out, glitches sharply as though gasping. It’s a rare treat to see him worked up, indulging his own desires, so you bask in the roughened sound of his voice and the dull hum of his ventilation system ramping up. “I should have known it would be that...”

You grin again, then kiss his palm innocently, as though you don’t feel the warmth that’s now radiating from him. “I did want to use it sooner. You’re too selfless for your own good.” You pull on his arm and he allows you, lets you trail kisses up the smooth plate of his forearm. “Can try it now, though.”

His nod is sharp, firm enough to jostle the endcaps of his mane. “Yes, perhaps I would… enjoy that.”

You snicker, but don’t comment on the breathy tone his voice takes, already dysregulated from a single lick, don’t comment on how quickly he sits on the bed that he’d gotten for your sake nor the speed with which he releases the latches on his pelvic plate. Air rushes from his vents again, almost like a sigh as his cock bobs freely.

You might never get used to it, knowing that he made something so obscene just for you… The thrill of it- of all of him- rushes through you, makes your belly heat. But you set that aside for now, instead pushing the golden joints of his legs apart and lowering yourself down to your knees. Which only makes your growing desire ever worse.

Like this you’re so very, very aware of how big he is. Built for war, he dwarfs you in every way. Beside you, his thin, bird-like legs are almost up to your shoulder, just barely giving you enough room to comfortably lay your arms on his thighs. Looking up at him… He sits so stiffly, one hand curled into the previously pristine sheets, the other is curled across the lowest part of faceplate as though obscuring his mouth. Shy, maybe, you think. Would make sense- he doesn’t particularly enjoy receiving one-sided attention. So, you smile up at him, rub your hands soothingly across his canvas-covered thighs and hope that soothes him.

Finally, you let your eyes wander back down his body. Slowly, you ease your hands in from his legs until they brush the base of his cock, where the silicone meets his inner frame. Without any lubricant it’s a dry, sticking feeling, but it’s still enough for you to hear the hum of his fans pitch up in anticipation.

He’s been so patient, so nice to finally let you try this, so you only tease him a little more. You straighten up and stare up at his faceplace, hands moving firmly onto his cock as though you’re going to take him into your mouth immediately. He tenses, waits the sudden onslaught of your mouth around him-- and finds instead your soft lips laying against the smooth head, pressing a delicate kiss to the silicone. Ramattra’s legs twitch,, a little whiny noise coming from somewhere inside him-

And you lower your head down, dragging the tip of your tongue from the base of his cock all the way up. His ventilation kicks and a staticked gasp slips from his vocoder. With only the tip, not yet letting him feel the jewelry, you lick at him, you flick your tongue against the soft ridge at the head of his cock until you think you might break him.

Ramattra hisses your name, somewhere between a plea and a threat. Desire surges in your core again, but you think he's been patient enough. Slowly, deliberately letting him watch as you move- you open your mouth and ease his tip past your lips.

Immediately, Ramattra groans, both hands twisting into his sheets as he processes your warm, soft mouth on his cock. He's big enough that even just his tip makes your jaw twinge in annoyance, but you relax your muscles and urge him further in. His body bursts with heat, already struggling to keep up with the hot air that’s soaking his processors- but that's not quite the reaction you were expecting. So you press your tongue firmly against the underside of his tip- though you aren't sure if Ramattra's cock is particularly sensitive here too- and drag the piercing over the ridge.

A high-pitched noise spits from his vocoder, almost a yelp as his whole body flinches. You'd almost worry you hurt him, that the metal was too rough on the silicone, except for the rough, rolling gasp that comes after. For Ramattra it's a distinct feeling- your mouth all soft and inviting and one firm bead of resistance that pushes back against him, that emphasizes each stroke of your tongue along his cock. It's addicting, one tiny piece of metal in all of that plush flesh. His hand lifts- nearly burying itself in your hair unbidden, but he kills the impulse- tries desperately to be still for you.

You gently bob your head, working up to a slow rhythm. With each motion you keep your tongue moving, sweeping across the silicone. Each time you move down, you try to take in more of him, slowly inching his cock deeper until he's prodding at the back of your throat. The first touch makes you gag, your mouth tightening around him as spit floods your mouth- and Ramattra's hips jump, momentarily fucking you mouth- and he moans.

You clit throbs at the single rough thrust, at the absolutely musical noise from his speakers- his need completely betrayed with the strain on his synth, the first touches of static to his voice. A desperate whimper escapes you just knowing that you're the one making him feel like that and Ramattra sucks in air in turn, his fists curled so tightly you can hear his actuators whining.

Even just listening to his pleasure, knowing you’re the one causing it-- it's all too much. You take him in deep again, sucking his cock with purpose, but you slip one hand between your legs. Trying to keep your focus on him is nearly impossible when you can hardly think with how badly you need to be touched. You shove your pants down and the first touch on your clit is near ecstasy. Sucking his cock, hearing his appreciation alone has left you swollen and soaked, trembling with pleasure as you moan shamelessly around his cock. You circle your clit and shiver, the pace of your tongue on him stuttering-

And this time, Ramattra doesn’t stop the impulse. Ramattra's fingers curl into your hair. You expect him to push you down, that his self control is broken, that he'll fuck your throat and-

he pulls you up. Your scalp stings softly, but you can only mewl in confusion, in desire- how must you look to him? Your own spit covering his cock, eyes glazed over in lust, one hand working yourself with a desperation- and Ramattra catches your arm with his other hand. You whimper, a mindless plea of no, please don't stop- as he pulls again, draws you up, up off the floor-

And you think for a moment he's going to fuck you, to get you in his lap-

“Come here.” His voice is almost unintelligible, harsh with static. He doesn’t even let you comply, dragging your body onto the bed with him as he lays back. Your head spins, too clouded to understand what he wants- which is fine, because he moves you exactly how he's thinking. He pulls you on top of him, legs spread wide over his broad chest and then spins you around so you're looking at his cock again.

That's all the prompting you need. Still spit-slicked, you take him into your mouth again. The new angle is different, unusual- his cock arcs down towards your tongue, making it easier to take him deeper-- and making the press of your piercing into him all the more intense. Ramattra makes some noise behind you- and you would try to squeeze your hand beneath yourself to keep rubbing, but with your belly pressed to his, it’s too tight a fit. The metal of his chest would dig into your wrist too much. But your clit aches, too needy to be ignored. Desperate, you rut your hips against his chest, hoping to find any friction at all against his hard bands of armor-

And Ramattra's big hands land on your hips.

He pulls you back- back as far as he can without dislodging your mouth from his cock. You want to ask, can't seem to understand what he's doing- until each thumb slips between your legs. You moan softly, try to question what he’s doing, but if he hears you, he makes no response. Ramattra parts your folds, revealing your pussy. Warm air washes over your sex- another rush of his ventilation- and you whimper, twisting in his hands at the embarrassment of him looking at you so closely.

You don't expect the press of cool metal directly to your clit.

The temperature makes you jolt away from him, but his hands keep you still, keep your clit trapped right against his faceplate as Ramattra moans. All crackling and ruined, his voice is vibration right against your clit- and you finally understand. You bob your head again, determined to keep those noises coming from his synth.

You sink down on him, taking as much as you can. Ramattra purrs against your pussy, a low rumble that makes your hips twitch, rutting back against his face, your clit rubbing delightfully on the divot between his faceplate and jaw. It’s so primal, needy-- and Ramattra’s grasp on your hips shifts, pulling you towards him again, urging you to keep going. You’re so close already it’s hard to hold any rhythm, but he helps, pushing his mouth against you each time you come up on his cock- and each time your piercing catches the tip he moans, a bolt of static pleasure rumbling directly into your clit.

You can’t help it. You dig your nails into the coverings on his thighs, try desperately to focus on him, on making him cum- but the sound of him, the taste of his cock, and the incessant buzzing of his moans against your pussy are too much. Your rhythm breaks entirely as he pushes you over the edge. Your own noises are muffled, lost to the silicone in your throat. Metal hands keep your thighs spread as they twitch and try to close around him, forcing you to feel as he moans, praises you indistinctly through your orgasm- the words lost against the overwhelming feeling of the continued vibration of your clit.

You can’t think, the pleasure too sharp, too strong- you try to squirm away, to get any relief, but his grasp shifts, one arm now wrapped around your waist to keep you still. The other presses to the back of your head. His hips lift- and he as fucks your mouth desperately.

Ramattra moans, all static-garbled and needy, still rumbling against your pussy. And still you work your piercing against him, match his careful pace with hard licks of your tongue- and each panting, growing moan you can feel him getting closer, every Ah, ah, ah- buzzing harder into your clit as acute pain- a raw overstimulation that only builds into whimpering, twitching second wave that makes your whole body tremble in his hands-

And it’s your hips throat twitching around him again that makes him gasp- the rushed intake of air and firm press of his face against your pussy in a long, droning note as he overloads entirely. His hips thrust up into your mouth one more time before steam rushes from his vents, fills the room with hot air and every joint in his body goes lax.

For a long time you lay there, shivering and boneless. His arms are a pleasant, heavy weight across your back, a good counterpoint to the weak shudders your body gives from time to time. Your clit and throat ache, but it’s a monumental task to move yourself just enough to no longer be choking on his dick or have your over sensitive clit pressed to his firm metal. It takes three tries on your shaking arms before you can manage it.

You lay there, limp and much too tired to try to extricate yourself further from the heft of him. Instead, you close your eyes and enjoy the silence, letting your body relax and cool off until the soft harmony of Ramatta’s internals returns. First, the hum of his processors, then the fans of his ventilation resume, much quieter than they had been before- then his lights return. Positioned as you are, you don’t see his array’s lights, but you do watch as the indicator lights in his cock turn from a yellow- muddied by the purple tinting in the silicone- to green, to finally red.

Ramattra’s fingers twitch on your back, and you laugh slightly as he mimics clearing his throat. He gently lifts your hips and helps you roll off of him, but with a limp waving request of your hand, he then helps you to turn around and lean against his broad chest, half on top of him again.

If you had any energy left at all, you’d be embarrassed- or perhaps aroused again- at the sight of his faceplate; he’s soaked. Everything between his optics down to the tip of his chin is coated in your wetness.

And yet when he speaks, “I apologize I was… overly enthusiastic.” It’s all contrition. One hand touches the side of your neck, a silent voicing of fear of injury.

Instead, you press your face to his hand and he meets you halfway, stroking along your cheekbone with unspoken reverence. “But you liked it?” While his voice has been perfectly reset, yours is still rough, rasping from the strain on your throat.

“I…” He starts- and immediately his fans hum louder again. Your lips barely crack into a knowing smile before he admits it, “Yes. It was… enjoyable.”

“See, more than just aesthetics.” You say, melting onto his chest more, idly stroking at the long pistons mimicking collar bones.

“I suppose I have to agree. You can hardly see it to begin with.”

“Maybe you should give me a piercing you can see, then.” You say it offhanded, a little joke-

“What? I couldn’t.” Ramattra shoots back immediately, “I have no experience with that.”

And his rejection only makes the idea more appealing, more real. “No, wait, think about it! You could research how to do it and where. Your hands wouldn’t shake, you’d be able to center it better-- I bet you could even design it yourself…” You grin and look up at the dark slits for his optics, half pleading. “Come on, at least you’d be saving me money and a trip out.”

Ramattra’s hands on you stop moving, but he doesn’t pull away. So completely motionless, you know he’s processing it, mulling the idea over. “You… want me to pierce you?”

“Well. Yeah, I guess? I mean I like piercings and I think you’d do a good job… and…” You blush softly, finally averting your gaze from his as though this is somehow more intimate than sucking his cock until he overloaded and cumming on his face twice. “Maybe I kinda… like the idea of having jewelry that you made, that you put there…”

His design on your body. It’s not just intimate; it’s possessive. A silent, private mark of your relationship… If you weren’t not so thoroughly spent, it might bring another wave of heat between your legs. He must have come to the same conclusion, because something shudders in Ramattra’s chest.

“I see.” He says coolly, as though you don’t feel the streams of hot air that again slip from his vents. “Then, I will look into it.”

In all, it takes Ramattra three days. Three days before he’s guiding you into his workshop and lifting you up onto his desk. The thrill of how easily he picks you up- big hands cradling your rib cage as he sets you onto the metal surface- always makes you a little giddy. Even more so is the little purple velvet box that sits nearby. You reach for it-

And Ramattra snatches the box up with a tut, “No peeking.”

“Fine.” You sigh exaggeratedly, watching as he skims over the tools he’s acquired in the last half week. A bottle of antiseptic, forceps, a marker-- and your eyes wander to a small package of needles. Your stomach tightens a little just seeing them, so you look at him instead, distracting yourself as Ramattra finishes his preparations. “Where did you decide?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead gently putting one finger under your chin and turning your head away. His other hand drifts over your ear- and eventually catches the little flap in front of your ear canal between thumb and forefinger. “Here.” His hands abandon you, turning back to his tools and grabbing the marker. “It is called the tragus.”

You hum in acknowledgement, but otherwise keep still as he focuses on your ear. Carefully, methodically- Ramattra touches the tip of the marker to your skin.

He draws your chin back towards him, examining the dot he’s made from the front before retrieving and handing you a mirror. “This is… acceptable?” He prompts as you look at your reflection. You could almost laugh; the ink of the marker is perfectly centered- likely is, mathematically. You knew he’d be good at this.

“Yeah, it looks perfect.” You look at the mark a moment more, picturing jewelry in its spot. It is… a strange location. “Why’d you pick this one?”

Ramattra pauses, his turn towards his tools a little too intentional. “If you wish to remove it later, any scarring should not be too disruptive.”

Something tightens in your chest. You reach out to him, gently touch his forearm. His head only slightly turns back towards you, just enough for you to see the corner of one slit. “I’m not going anywhere.” You say it, squeeze his arm again and hope he’ll internalize it this time. His only response is a small hum, an acknowledgement of the words, if not their meaning. So, you redirect him. “Can I see the jewelry now?”

Again, Ramattra hesitates, but caves with a halting, “Yes, I suppose so.” He holds the box a second too long- so tiny in his big hands- but offering it to you.

You don’t even hide your ecstatic grin as you take it- too excited at the possibilities. His designs are always so sleek, but you don’t know what he would choose for you to wear. You crack open the box- and the first thing you recognize is the color. Purple- the exact shade as his accents, as his jaw. But it’s not just his paint- you hold the tiny box closer and squint. It’s almost an inverted teardrop shape, but not quite. There is a silver dot embedded in the lower half, the point that would be sharp is clipped, a notch taken out of the wider top… You look at it for a moment longer- and your excitement melts into something warmer, recognition.

“It’s your chest plate…” You murmur and reach for him again. Only the lower half is visible under his tan cowl, but Ramattra stands still, lets you lift the soft fabric to reveal his own inverted teardrop- the purple latch right in the center of his chest.

“There’s more…” His voice falters, rasping through a whisper, strained with the same feeling that’s twisting in your throat.

You look back to the jewelry, unsure how there could be more meaning lain into it- but you take it from the little velvet cushions that hold it in place- and understand. The back of it is green with tiny golden lines etched into it. A circuit board. You brow pinches for a moment, dragging a nail over the back- feeling the protective coating over the circuits. It’s too small, too clipped to be functional. Just decorative, symbolic?

“When I…” He starts and stops, stepping closer to you- laying one hand on the outside of your thigh. “When I installed…. that I also had to replace and redesign some chips that were in my hips for functionality. I… kept the originals.”

“This is… you?” You murmur, tracing the tiny golden threads again. An actual chip from his body… “Or, was part of you?”

Ramattra nods stiffly, watches as you examine the tiny thing. “It’s… acceptable?”

“Yeah.” You sniffle, “I love it, Rama…” then hurriedly put the jewelry back in its box and shove it back towards him. You rub at your watering eyes and force out a tight, “Hurry up and pierce me before I cry.”

Ramattra nods again, shifting easily into his practiced movements. He swaps your ear with antiseptic and dips the piercing into the bottle, laying it on a sheet to dry as he picks up his tools. You focus on his faceplate and stare up at him as he steps in front of you. He waits there a moment- soaks in your gaze before touching your chin and urging you to turn your head just as he had earlier.

You close your eyes, don’t look as he clamps the forceps down.

“Breathe.” His voice rumbles, so close to your ear. You shiver, but obey- taking in the cool air of his workspace, the scent of his oil, relax into the warm proximity of him-

And as you exhale he pierces you. Hot pain washes over the whole side of your head. You clench your teeth, try not to flinch as he moves quickly, replacing pieces with a smoothness that you should’ve expected from him.

“Good,” He praises, still low and quiet and so close to you- and finally he pushes his design into the backing.

Ramattra steps away, but you grab at him- hands landing on the silver handles at his hips. He stops, turns towards you- and the tears you’d managed to suppress before being stabbed boil over.

“Does it hurt? I-”

You’re crying before you can even wrap your arms around him.And realizing you’re crying into his cowl- your face pressed right up against the exact plate he used as a design makes you weep harder. But he steps right up against the table and shushes you, strokes your back with an affection no one else has even seen in him.

“I love you,” You manage between shoulder-racking sobs- and something inside Ramattra shudders.

So quickly he adjusts, no longer holding you to his broad chest, but near doubling over, half lifting you off the table to press his faceplate into your shoulder. He buries himself in the warmth of your body- and shudders again as your grasp scrabbles over his back, no longer cinched around his tiny waist, but sliding up under his cowl, grabbing at the long bars of armor and holding yourself up against him.

“I love you so much,” You murmur to him, half broken by sniffles- and he squeezes your ribs in turn.

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

20 minutes of my life I'll never get back. 🤦‍♂️

I must be a glutton for punishment because I actually watched Kinsey Schofield's 20 min interview w/Valentine Low. May this rant save you from making the same mistake:

Valentine Low & Kinsey Schofield just reminded me that the British press is in desperate need of a grief recovery workshop to let go of their palace manufactured PR image of Sparry, "the CONSERVATIONIST," and accept the REALITY: Sparry has ALWAYS been a member of the lost boys who never intend to grow up. He loves drugs, perverted soho house sex play pens, and living a secret lifestyle in San Francisco, CA. As we saw in the South Park Documentary, Sparry has always wanted to be left alone so he can just bang on his drums all day.

The British media needs to accept that they never knew the Sparry aka Prince Harry. Much like Fergie & Andrew: The Meghans are two (2) intellectually below average individuals who married in haste. Both their academic & professional work histories indicate that these two (2) immature adults, lack even the basic skills necessary to function in society without the help of a PR "machine" whose job is to clean up their messes and repeatedly rebrand them into more acceptable members of polite society. It's past time for Valentine Low and other UK journalists to admit that they never really knew Sparry. All their Diana goodwill should now be invested into the future of the BRF (the family of Prince William)

No amount of hoping for the best or "covering up" for Sparry's misdeeds can transform the moral rot in his character. They bought and sold the PR image manufactured by the palace. It was the paparazzi & other "undesirables" who had the misfortune of observing the REAL Sparry. They watched him mistreat drivers, security, staffers, etc long BEFORE he was seduced by MEgain.

V Low believes Sparry flew a helicopter! 😳 Come on! Too many REAL service members have spoken out about Sparry's military character and performance and there's nothing good about it.

Sparry, like his wife is also a liar and a bully. He's not intellectually bright, he never was... He even bullied his grandparents before the "spectacle," he bullied Meghan's father...we heard reports about seeking a left wing wife and his interest in living in the US----all before MEgain.

Low also thinks Sparry loves his children. Has Valentine Low ever seen the invisibles? No. He's transferred a PR image to a couple of never before seen kids and their so called father. A so-called "father" who is willing to destroy his brother's children (and the innocent children of other couples) through the spread of destructive lies, has zero interest in the REAL wellbeing of anyone's kids, least of all his own.

As for the Wife: her ability to earn a college degree as an American teenager/young adult without even the offer of an ACADEMIC scholarship means that she too is mediocre and overrated. Her university commencement program states that she was a candidate for a degree in "communications" NOT some whip smart area of study like biochemistry or engineering! 🤦‍♂️

As a university student, thanks to her dad's brother (mike), she spent a measly six (6) weeks in Argentina on an exchange program (paid by her father) until she failed an exam that would have allowed her to apply for (real) jobs in the States. An intellectual or any hard worker would have studied until she passed the test. Not Rachel Meghan Markle. If no one was willing to make an exception for her low marks, then she would whore her way up a series of ladders until she found someone dumb enough to give her a platform.

No, this is NOT a "smart" couple. This couple is a cautionary tale about how Water seeks it's own level: Sparry's mother and teachers did him a disservice, just as MEgain's father did her a disservice: SPARE the rod & SPOIL the child

Kinsey believes that MEgain is "smart" because she achieved a Duchess title. (What does this tell us about Kinsey's IQ. 🤦‍♂️😳)

MEgain became a "Duchess" because she was a professional "seductress" employeed by Markus Anderson & Soho House. Everything this couple achieves is smoke & mirrors based on TRANSACTIONAL relationships where they bully & harass anyone standing in their way.

They don't even possess good work ethics, let alone above average IQs. Please call a spade a spade (or in this case a spare a spare) and stop gaslighting the public about what Sparry could have done had he not been involved with the wife.

We watched the wife verbally abuse KP staffers over bereavement flowers and feckless Sparry stood by in AGREEMENT. Wicked queen Jezebel 2.0 and traitorous king ahab 2.0. Let them go!

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Hi, Kat! I love how obsessed you are with Levi…because same. Anyhow, I have a question👉🏻👈🏻

If Levi were to travel forward into our time, what are some things you think would send him into a coma?

Much love❤️ Violet~

hi violet!! i think my identity is just being obsessed with levi at this point tbh ksdjfkslfkj

i think most things he'd acknowledge as cool and neat and prob would be helpful in canonverse, but there are def a few things that would throw him off

levi with modern!au gadgets

➼ i can see him being fascinated by feather dusters. idk about you, but for me, cleaning up lint with a cloth is a pain in the ASS, so levi having a feather duster would finally provide him with what he needs to be able to get the room/house/apartment/etc as spotless as he usually requires in canonverse. no more ordering the cadets to clean for him, it's now the responsibility of the feather duster. he'll probably be quite displeased once he finds out that he has to regularly replace it due to how quickly lint gathers onto it.

➼ i think he'd DEFINITELY be weirded out by keurigs at first. is it a water boiler? why would you make it through that annoyingly loud device instead of brewing it yourself (especially if its tea)? he'll get his head around it pretty quickly though, but you bet that he'd get into brewing contests with it to see who makes it better (it's him obvs)

➼ he'd probably have the same attitude that he did towards the feather dusters when it comes to a roomba. he'd be intrigued and even fascinated at first, but would likely pick up on little detailed spots that the roomba would fail to sweep up. his disdain for the little device gets even worse once he realizes how absolutely FILTHY the sweeping rod gets if you don't regularly clean it.

➼ lets be real, you'd have a full dishwasher installed in your house and levi would have no idea that it existed until you came up to him one day and asked why he was doing all the dishes by hand, and that you could technically save water if you just ran the dishwasher. even after that, he'd be skeptical on if it could actually get all the grime off or not, even after the dishes come out squeaky clean

➼ i think this one would actually piss him off. of course he'd be impressed by the washer and dryer unit that you have. not having to handwash clothes was convenient and made everything easier. however, as soon as he had to clean the lint tray from the drying machine, his nose would scrunch up as a complete look of disgust took over his features. no matter how careful you were, small lint particles would get knocked into the air. he'd try to navigate it quickly and carefully at first to avoid the dust build-up, but it didn't take long before he just gave up entirely and began going on cleaning sprees in the laundry room whenever you have to run the dryer to pick up after the dust that settled after each cycle.

[yuurei20]

Idia Facts Part 16: Idia and Machines

Idia is often upgrading machinery for little to no reason, customizing a magic-imbued toy during Glorious Masquerade to increase its magic capacity 100 times over its original design.

When Azul asks why Idia responds, “No reason.”

Idia also disassembles a blastcycle for fun and designs and creates multiple weapons for use in Beanfest, including a bean launcher, improved grabbing arm, two capture rods, and two bean blasters.

When asked by Epel’s grandmother to repair her wood splitter he upgrades it as well, improving the output by 400%, adding safety features and installing sensors, auto-scanner and AI.

When Idia's Port Fest team decides upon selling waffles during the event he volunteers to create the waffle iron itself, inventing a prototype with ultra high-speed baking functionality and equipped with high-performance AI and infrared sensors.

This backfires when no one else but Idia himself is able to operate it, forcing him to work throughout the day without breaks.

Idia also repairs Malleus’ team's machine during the event, saying, “It was a rush job though, so I could only increase its power output by five times.”

Idia has an entire vignette focused around his efforts to improve Ortho’s processing speed by 10%.

Idia says that his best subject is summoning, as bargaining with creatures and faeries with rare foods and plants is like playing a video game.

Riddle asks why Idia uses a self-designed robot to clean his room if he is so adept at summoning and Idia says that pressing a button on a robot is the most energy efficient solution.

[oakparchment]

Itzy's Sex Toys

Yeji, Lia, Ryujin, Chaeryeong, Yuna

Length: 2325 words

Tags: masturbation, (improvised) sex toys, voyeurism, cum sharing, cum lube

Summary: Ever wondered how Itzy gets themselves off?

AO3

A/N: Here's some fantasy fuel for how each Itzy member masturbates (it gets real slutty at the end) featuring the non-conventional objects they had to make do with as sex toys before, the actual sex toys they own now, and the toy that they're looking at buying next.

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Yeji

Yeji getting her driver's license led to more than just being able to drive. This definitely doesn't work in every vehicle, but the handbrake in Yeji's car was just a simple, long and straight lever that when the car was in park, angled almost straight up. There was enough room at the front console that she could push the seats back, slot herself over the handbrake, and start riding to her heart's content. It was unconventional for sure, and not always practical, but at least the car had tinted windows.

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Yeji was the group's trailblazer when it came to sex. Not only was she the first to buy a sex toy, but she went all out on the first purchase. When the order came through, she couldn't contain her excitement and ran to her room to test it out. It was a male torso sex doll, spanning from the neck down to the cock and balls. No longer would she be confined to the inside of a car whenever she wanted to ride something long and hard. During one late night talk, Yeji and Ryujin had shared some of their fantasies with each other. The repercussions of that conversation led to Yeji sometimes pretending the sex doll beneath her was Ryujin, as she bounced up and down on its hard rod (more of that fantasy later...)

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Yeji is looking at buying a fuck machine next. With both the handbrake and sex doll she has to do all the work herself, but wants to have a go at lying down on her hands and knees, turning the machine on, and just getting absolutely railed from behind. She's gonna have to find more storage space...

Lia

Lia often took the longest showers. She would of course do the usual: wash her hair, soap herself up, shave, and get clean. But then she would also get dirty. Their bathroom showerhead was detachable, which Lia would hold against her pussy. The hot water jetting over her clit was the perfect amount of pressure. Not wanting anyone to have to wait around, thoughtful Lia would try to limit her shower sessions to when no one else had to use the bathroom after her.

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Lia eventually wanted to add more to her shower sessions, and made a very pragmatic decision to buy a suction cup dildo. She could now attach the dildo to the shower wall and fuck herself on it, whilst still holding the showerhead over her clit. This revolutionised showers for Lia, causing her to take multiple showers in a day if there was the opportunity to do so. From an outsider's perspective, she seemed shy about sex, but the thought of someone walking in on her getting off secretly turned her on, and for that reason she never locked the bathroom door when she showered (or the bedroom door when she stuck the dildo to her mirror). One time she forgot to take the dildo off the shower wall, and Yuna discovered it. But that's a story for another time.

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She's interested in buying a simple clit vibrator. One that she can hold against her sensitive bud whilst fucking her dildo, but she also wouldn't be tethered to the shower this way. She basically sees it as a direct upgrade from the showerhead.

Ryujin

Ryujin sleeps with a pillow between her legs. Silk sheets, pyjama shorts and no panties, cause she humps her pillow to get off. If she bundles up the pillow just right, her wetness against the silk pillow case creates an amazing texture that’s both smooth yet has just the right friction against her pussy lips and clit. She’s gotten real good at humping and grinding her hips after all that pillow fucking. This did lead to Ryujin having an excessive amount of pillows in her room, allowing her to have a pillow to fuck and still have a fresh one to sleep on that didn't have her cum all over it (without having to wash her sheets every few days). One night when Chaeryeong was sleeping over in her room, she wondered why Ryujin needed so many pillows. Her curiosity was answered upon seeing a familiar patch running down the middle of one of them. Much to Ryujin's embarassment, Chaeryeong specifically chose to sleep on that pillow for the night.

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Ryujin wants to fuck. Like literally. She bought a strap-on dildo because she’s obsessed with the idea of having a thick cock and just absolutely railing people with it. So much so that she practices fucking her pillow with it, pretending it’s one of her group members. Ryujin will give the dildo head before putting it on, practicing her blowjob skills and getting it all slicked up for her pretend partner (for now). Then she’ll get rough with it, slapping her fake cock and watching it sway, then jerking it off with a vice-like grip.

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Whilst she humps her pillows and jerks off her fake cock, she watches porn, and has been on the kinkier side of it lately. She finds herself continually returning to videos of sex swings. Ryujin thinks about how hard and fast she could fuck someone’s guts out with the assistance of a swing. This is going on her wish list for sure.

Chaeryeong

Chaeryeong genuinely did use her face roller to massage her face... at the start. The phallic look of it did always get her thinking and one day her depraved thoughts got the better of her and she used it to massage other places. She would clutch onto the roller balls to angle the shaft inside of her, pumping in and out of her pussy and oh.. my.. god.. did it make her feel good. 

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

Whilst the face roller got her off, it didn't hit deep the way she wanted it to (Chaeryeong's vaginal canal goes deep), so she started browsing around for actual toys. All the pretty colours and shapes of bad dragon dildos really drew her attention (and yes, the massive size too) and settled on a few that she particularly liked. The first time she used one was a very slow process, involving lots of lube and very slow penetration. Even now, her wank sessions take a bit to start off. But once her pussy adjusts to the size, it hits her in crevices that she didn't even know she had. She likes to kneel in front of her mirror with the base of the dildo on the floor just in front of her, holding the length of it up against her abs to visualise just how far it goes inside of her. Bad dragon dildos for a bad girl...

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

The monstrous dildos do a very sufficient job of filling up her pussy, but Chaeryeong wants to be double stuffed and have things up her juicy ass too. She can’t get over how cute fluffy cat tail anal plugs look, and wants to have one (or two, or three) for her growing collection.

Yuna

One morning when they were getting ready for their schedule, Yuna and Ryujin were standing by the bathroom vanity, when Yuna's electric toothbrush was cutting in and out of power. The older girl made a sly comment about it. "Is the battery faulty? You only just charged it yesterday..." Yuna brushed off her remark whilst blushing, telling her Unnie to shush. They both knew the real reason. Yuna would brush her teeth with her electric toothbrush, feeling it vibrate in her hand, and one day her intrusive thoughts took over. Bzzzzzzttt it went, vibrating against her lips, though it wasn't in her mouth...

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

If she was attached to her toothbrush before, she was now straight up obsessed with her rabbit vibrator. Where the toothbrush was thin, her rabbit was thick. Where the toothbrush was a gentle buzz, her rabbit vibrated hard. And where the toothbrush had her rubbing her clit with her free hand, the rabbit ears did that for her. This thing turned Yuna into a crazed little cum machine and she may or may not be addicted to jilling off with it.

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

Yuna couldn't imagine a better toy at getting her tight little pussy off, so she’s opted for branching out to accessories that stimulates and turns her on instead. A ball gag, to help shut herself up so that her roommates don’t have to hear her fucking her rabbit for the 4th time in a day (hint, they can still hear her, and it turns them on just as much as it annoys them for being such a distraction). And nipple clamps, so that she can have her nipples pinched hands free.

All In Us!

This one is shared. Nobody explicity says it out loud but they all get off harder at the thought of sharing a toy; the material being glass has the added benefits of temperature retention and being easy to clean and take care of. If there’s one toy that always gets brought whilst travelling, it’s this one. It started off as them all passing around a hairbrush (which was tooootally only used to brush their hair) but Yeji thought it was starting to get ridiculous that they were using the handle of a hairbrush in this manner so she went and ordered them a glass dildo. When the girls are feeling particularly nasty there are days that the dildo gets shared around without cleaning it between uses. Cream and cum flows freely on the glass; getting passed around like a slut, accumulating everyone’s wetness and dirty fantasies.

To start off, Yeji had just driven home and was parked outside. She had been waiting to fuck herself all day and finally had the chance to. Pulling the glass dildo out of her bag, she slicks it up with her mouth, getting it coated with spit and ready for her pussy. Getting on top for a ride, she knows how to angle it just right so that the glass hits her g-spot with every buck of her hips, leaving a squirty mess over her car seat by the time she’s done. She wipes up after herself and heads inside, walking away from the fogged up windows of her car.

Lia welcomes her home and watches her place the wet glass dildo on the front door table, as if it were a mundane item like house keys or a letter. And that’s how the sharing starts. Lia retrieves the toy for herself, and is already a little wet by the time she reaches the bathroom. With her face pressed against the vanity, she uses one hand to fuck herself from behind, and the other to rub her clit, all to the mental image she has conjured up of Yeji’s squirty mess. Lia's angelic moans bounce off the bathroom tiles to the beat of her bent over railing. Once she’s done, she leaves the glass toy on the counter top.

Ryujin knows what Lia gets up to in the bathroom, and not so sneakily ducks in there to grab it after Lia leaves. Back in her room, she happily licks up the still warm glass, tasting Lia’s sweet honey. Once she's slurped up all of Lia's cum and has sufficiently replaced it with her own spit, she pulls up an image on her phone from her private folder (which may or may not be exclusive 'selfies' that Lia sent her). Facing down on her stomach, she bucks against the glass dildo, squeezing it with her velvety walls whilst grinding her clit on her wrist.

She gets a message notification from Chaeryeong - 'Unnie it's my turn when you're done.' Chae waits patiently in the next room over, listening to the consistent creaking of Ryujin's bed. Ryujin exits her bedroom and catches Chaeryeong in the hallway. She holds up the used dildo, attempting to make eye contact with a half smirk and a fucked out expression, but the younger girl is too shy and meekly grabs it from her hand without looking, giggling as she walks off to her own room. Chaeryeong is fucking ready to be filled up, and has her face down and ass up within seconds of closing the door. She rubs the glass along her tight little ass hole and then her pussy, lubing them both up with Ryujin's cum. She then pushes in, pounding away at her pussy with it - whatever remained of her Unnie's cum is now thoroughly mixed in with her own. She rubs her ass with her free hand, easily slipping in one, then two fingers thanks to the cum lube. Chaeryeong quickly reaches her climax this way, feeling like such a dirty slut fucking both of her holes.

Even though Chaeryeong makes a good effort to keep her voice contained, through the walls Yuna can hear the creamy slaps as her Unnie pounds into herself. Yuna had already made herself cum once during all of this, but she was a crazed fuck bunny who rarely stopped at one orgasm. Once again, the abused toy gets passed along. From the tip to the base, the dildo is coated with globs of Chaeryeong’s thick cream. Yuna makes sure to nibble at it a bit, then leans back and fucks herself silly. Simultaneously, she gropes at her perky tits, pinching her hard nipples. The stimulation and knowing that the toy has been passed down the line from every member all the way down to her, has her tight cunt squeezing at the glass dildo as she nuts. Pulling it out, she licks at it like a lollipop, cleaning off all that girl cum.

What toy will Itzy as a group buy next? Well to be honest, they should probably skip the middleman and just start directly fucking each other. They're already intimately familiar with each others moans of pleasure through the walls, and even what each other tastes like. It'll happen sooner or later, and Ryujin does have that strap-on after all...

A/N: If you couldn't tell by the image, this is mostly inspired by Chaeryeong's facial massage roller meme from one of their 'what's in my bag' videos. I also read @minheelovelee's post about Yuna's sex toys a while back, which served as inspo too. If anyone's interested I want to do a girl penis version of this as well.

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐚 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥'𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

Diamonds and glamour, fancy gifts and galas — all superficial and superfluous when you had him at your every whim and him at yours, it’s how you learnt diamonds weren’t as superior as you had first thought.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✦ Mafia!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✦ 2.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✦ Angry!Bucky (not at reader), tension ჻჻჻ SMUT: Thigh riding, choking ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, daddy, dumbification

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✦ My first bingo fill and I have no idea what came over me, but this is... a lot — If anyone wants to yell at me, I will be at church in a confessional booth ✌🏻

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✦ 7 rings by Ariana Grande

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✦ @allcapsbingo 𝗜𝟭 — Mafia AU — Masterlist

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The halls of Bucky’s home were vast with floor to ceiling works of art hung on burgundy walls, soft lighting that led to the open living, dining, and kitchen - each space as luxurious as the last. Your bare feet padded softly against the dark herringbone floor until you reached the kitchen, where black and gold marble countertops shone under downlights.

Soft voices were coming from the double doors to the left of the living room, too low to make out but the tone was clear; business, not pleasure. The soft whirr of the coffee machine drew your attention from the expansive view, and you smiled as you grabbed your favourite mug from the top cupboard, the fabric of Bucky’s shirt riding up your bare thigh with the stretch. 

“You know what-” A smash of glass echoed from the closed doors and you startled. “I fucking told you to keep your fucking nose clean!”

“Oh, boy,” you murmured. Bucky was angry, but at who–your endless guesses may not even come close, he had many men under his command being at the head of the mafia empire he built from the ashes. 

Abandoning your mug of steaming coffee, you tiptoed to the door and pressed your ear to the cold wood. There were shuffling sounds, a hiss of annoyance, and a grumbling voice that sounded like Steve. Bucky spoke up again, this time his tone measured and tense. “When I tell you to do something, I mean it. I am fucking sick of cleaning up after you two.”

“Yes, boss,” another voice spoke, almost too softly to make out.

“Fuck it,” you whispered, glancing up and down your body. “They’ve seen worse.” 

The door opened smoothly and you peeked inside. Sam was by the door, his posture screaming ‘fuck around and find out’, and Steve was pacing behind the two seats where two men sat, straight backed and tense like a rod had been shoved up their ass. 

And to be fair, having an angry mafia boss targeting his considerably controlled rage at you - that would make anyone shit bricks. 

“Not now,” a voice whispered and you looked at the source to find Sam staring at you from the corner of his eyes. “Later.”

You nodded once and backed away from the door when Bucky’s voice suddenly piped up, hostility null and void. “Hey, baby, c’mere.” The door opened further, and you looked inside properly, still hanging back in the doorway - just in case. “I missed you,” Bucky breathed, the honeyed sound of his voice your calling card, and without thinking you stepped into his office where every eye landed on you. 

The diamond necklace that Bucky had gifted you was cold between your fingers when you fiddled with it, a calming presence in a much too heated environment. It was a nervous tic that Bucky had known, and picked up on very quickly.

Bucky’s seat scooted back on the wooden floor, and he pointed to his lap. “C’mere, sit down.”

Silence pressed against your eardrums while you moved around his desk and sat on his thigh, the corded muscle straining against the black fabric of his slacks. Once settled, you leant against his chest and rested your head in the crook of his neck, facing forward to look at the two men staring in absolute shock at you. 

A cold hand rested on the small of your back and Bucky’s chest rumbled under your ear when he spoke. “Good girl.”

You shivered, but not from the sudden cold of his prosthesis. 

“Now,” Bucky began lowly, a dangerous undertone to his authoritative voice. “Where were we?”

The men spoke and you tuned it out, preferring to stare with curiosity at the seated men while they spoke, studying their faces that were twisted in distress at was evidently one hell of a fuck up. 

The one on the right was built like a bear with dark blond hair down to his ears and a neat beard, he was staring pointedly at Bucky with unwavering conviction and determination to right his wrongs. Beside him sat a man that looked smaller but not by much, his hair was dark like Bucky’s though he had strands falling over his forehead. The nonplussed expression and relaxed features of his face came as a surprise. 

You shifted to get more comfortable and gasped, the sudden change of pressure against your clothed heat on Bucky’s thigh taking you by surprise. “Easy, kitten,” Bucky drawled, loud enough for the room of men to hear and you whined low in your throat - a sudden need to move consumed you and set your body alight. “Be a good girl for daddy.”

“M’kay,” you whispered, settling down with a huff. This was business, not pleasure, you reminded yourself. Bucky’s left hand suddenly cupped your ass and you whimpered when he squeezed once, twice, three times before he relaxed his hold. 

“Behave,” Bucky purred, quiet enough for only you to hear. “And I’ll give you a treat.” 

They continued talking for a while - Bucky’s hand moving up and down your back as they discussed deals and partnerships. You focused on Bucky’s voice, still clipped and tense, though you sitting in his lap seemed to abate the worst of his anger. He hated having you witness his violent bouts of rage, especially at the incompetence of his men at their worst moments.

“I expect this to be fixed before the end of the day,” Bucky snapped, his arm momentarily tightening around you. In an act to soothe him, you placed an open palm against his chest and shifted even closer so your knee was on the edge of his seat and closer to his crotch. 

“You got it, boss,” the dark-haired man said, saluting.

Bucky snarled, a low growl building in his throat and you tensed. “Hal, quit the-”

“We’ll take our leave now, boss,” the blond interrupted, sending a sharp glare at his partner, who shrugged lightly and the two rose. 

“Ari, I expect a phone call no later than sun down with the news that this fucking mess is fixed,” Bucky called, his cold hand creeping up your back while his tattooed hand pointed right at Ari, his pinky ring shining in the light of the sun from the window behind him. “Do you understand?” Ari nodded and pulled Hal from the room and Sam finally moved, a nod of his head and moving to stalk after Hal and Ari to escort them out. 

“Stevie,” Bucky asked, looking at his most trusted man, his voice rumbling in his chest. “That deal that they fucked up, make sure they actually fucking fix it. I don’t want another loss or it’s their heads.”

“Got it, Buck,” Steve answered. He smiled at you softly and strode from the room, closing the door with a click behind him.

The chair holding the two of you scooted back even further and Bucky’s hands, one warm and tattooed, the other metal and cool, moved down the back of both your thighs and dug in. “C’mere,” he murmured. You squeaked in shock when he lifted you and your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. “You behaved for me there, what’s goin’ on with you, hmm?”

Your breath hitched at his lowered octave, his accent shining through with the heady tone of his voice. Entirely unbidden, your cunt clenched with want when he lowered you both onto the couch against the far wall by the fireplace - it wasn’t your fault when he showed off his strength that it awoke something within you. You were straddling one of his thick thighs now, and you exercised every last slither of self-control not to sit down, not before you were told to.

“Wanted to be good for you-”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Bucky interrupted. His right hand cupped your jaw and he ran his thumb over your bottom lip, his cerulean eyes blown and eclipsed with lust. You opened your mouth and swirled your tongue around his thumb like it was the head of his cock. “You wanted to behave for daddy?”

You moaned and nodded, not breaking eye contact as you sucked at his thumb hard. “Oh, baby, you were such a good girl for me.” His left hand gripped your hip and pushed you down roughly against his thigh. “I want you to sit.”

“Ah! Daddy, please-”

“What? What is it, kitten?” Bucky pouted, his mocking tone only serving to send a fresh wave of heat through your body. “You can’t be stupid for me yet; I haven’t even touched you.”

“N-No,” you whimpered, clutching at the lapels of his suit jacket. “Please, I was good, I-I want you, to– fuck-” The sudden heat of Bucky’s mouth placing open mouthed kisses on your neck made you whine loudly. 

“So sensitive, aren’t you? Poor thing,” Bucky sneered and you nodded feverishly, unable to move from the bruising grip he had on your hip. “Goin’ all silly on daddy, huh?”

“Ye-Yeah,” you gasped, Bucky had moved his right hand from your jaw and placed it on your hip in line with his left. “Oh, god, daddy, please!” 

Bucky hummed and pushed your hips down, the pressure against your clit now becoming unbearable and you cried out, a sound thin and high that bounced off the walls of his office. 

“What do you say, kitten?” Bucky snapped, his left hand suddenly grasping your throat so the cold metal shocked your skin. His right remained on your thigh, controlling you like a rag doll to grind back and forth, back and forth, again, again, and again.

“Fuck! Thank you, daddy, oh fuck,” you sobbed.

Bucky smiled like a predator - a wolf who had caught the lamb. 

The force of his hold on your hip began to smart and you whimpered, bringing your hands from his chest to his left wrist and holding on for dear life. “Please, I need more- daddy-”

“Aww,” Bucky cooed. “No, kitten, you know that daddy knows what’s best for his girl, and right now she’s being a fuckin’ little slut for her daddy, isn’t she?”

“Yes!” You cried when a tendril of pleasure wound up your spine. “Yes, for you, only for you!”

“Atta girl.” The grip around your throat made you wheeze in sharp pants that fanned over Bucky’s lips when he pulled you closer. A sharp stab of pleasure coiled low in your stomach and you broke out in a sweat, the diamond necklace underneath Bucky’s wrist clinking against the metal with your forced and desperate movements. 

“Ah- ah- oh, fuck, please,” you moaned, and Bucky chuckled darkly. He squeezed your hip in warning when you tried to move faster.

“You wanna ride my thigh? Is that what you want?” Bucky asked. His chest had begun to heave with heavy breaths that showed he was only barely holding on himself. “You just need that pretty head of yours empty while fucking my thigh, huh, baby girl? Don’t worry, daddy’s got you.”

The relief of hearing Bucky’s promise was overwhelming. His grip around your throat loosened until he only squeezed the sides while his right forced you to move in earnest, the pace of your hips brutal to the already tight coil. 

“‘M gonna come, daddy! Oh- fuck, oh my god,” you babbled, hysterical on a high you had tasted many times before. “I-I can’t stop-”

“I know, baby, I know,” Bucky soothed. “Such a good girl for me, c’mon.” 

You gasped loudly when Bucky pulled you forwards, his brute strength forcing you closer and in turn, your thighs clenched around his to keep you balanced. 

“I know you’re close, kitten, fuckin’ look at you–such a slut, and you’re all mine, fuck,” Bucky breathed, his claim ending in a chuckle when you whined loudly at the change of position. “Be a good girl for me. I want you to come, now.”

The words leaving his lips were the catalyst of your release. You screamed when it hit you all at once, far too much and far too little in its devastation. 

“That’s it, that’s it, oh, baby, look at you,” Bucky breathed, his tone hoarse with restraint when you could finally hear him over the dull roar in your ears. “You were so good for me, ‘m so proud.”

You fell boneless against Bucky’s chest and his arms wound around your waist, hugging you tightly while he whispered praises and soothed you from your high. His tattooed hand cupped the back of your neck where the clasp of your necklace sat against your sweaty skin, and he heaved a happy sigh through his nose. “Do you think they heard you?”

“Probably,” you giggled, moving to sit up so you could look into Bucky’s face. The diamonds adorning your neck were warm and misted with sweat while you fiddled with them. “Why?”

The dangerous glint in Bucky’s eyes and the devilish smirk was all you needed to know to understand why, if his hard length brushing against your thigh wasn’t enough of a hint; after all, his hard cock was better than a diamond by far.

“I need you to scream a lil’ bit louder for me this time, baby,” Bucky said impishly. With a grunt of effort, he lifted you again and stood from the couch. 

“Bucky!” You squealed, hanging on for dear life around his broad shoulders. The damp patch on his slacks brushed against your thigh with his sudden movement and you giggled - that was you, you had made a mess on his ridiculously expensive pants. You had marked him.

It was a vice, the possessiveness he held over you and you over him, and parading his come-soaked slacks where his men would see?

Oh, god, you thought.

“Nope,” Bucky sighed, his hands gripping your ass tightly in reprimand. “I’ve gotta fuck you until you don’t know nothin’ but who I am, kitten. Besides, I have time to kill until that idiot calls me with good news, and I wouldn’t wanna waste an opportunity to be buried so deep in your fuckin’ cunt that you’ll be feelin’ me for days.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[copperbadge]

I will admit that I backloaded NaClYoHo for today, in that I got today's task done ahead of schedule. It wasn't planned; I was actually in one of those ADHD Time Management Moments yesterday where I thought, "I'm getting a haircut at 4:30, so I can't start anything after 3pm, and won't be able to do anything productive from then until bedtime."

But my hair is short and the barbershop is four blocks away, so I was home again by 5. And there was a new episode of Behind The Bastards out, so I figured I could listen to that and at least assemble the laundry if not actually do it.

This was more of a task than usual because I was planning to gather up all the Cat Laundry that I probably don't wash often enough -- the blankets on the windowsills where they like to sleep, the lining of the copilot's basket on my work desk, their Sulk Gourds, etc.

(Polk HATES when I wash their blankets. She's furious that the Blankets Are Gone and then she's furious that the Blankets Don't Smell Right.)

Anyway, once I had put everything into one of the sections of the hamper, I looked at it and thought, do I have the energy for the laundry room? Sure, why not. Our laundry room has a phone app, which is great because you can tell exactly how many machines are free -- and sure enough, every washer was available. So I rolled my laundry cart down there and ran four loads of laundry simultaneously. I miss having in-unit laundry but it goes a LOT faster when you've got more than one machine. (Lest you think I'm an asshole the room has eight washers, so I wasn't bogarting the laundry.)

So now Polk is running around scenting up the blankets again, I have clean clothes through the end of November, the air-dry-only Sulk Gourds are hanging up to dry, and I'm taking today off.

[ID: Two covered cat beds made of soft felt, shaped somewhat like pyramids, are hanging by loops on top that are attached to a coat hanger, which is hooked over my shower curtain rod. The cats are going to be so mad at the clean-laundry smell!]

[farman111]

Clear blockages effortlessly with our robust sewer cleaning Rods. Crafted for dependability, these tools simplify maintenance, guaranteeing unobstructed drains for a seamless plumbing experience

[farthertothemoon]

I would love to hear more about the nose teaser machine thing honestly

Oohhh, an eye for the good things huh?

Well across the very sandy deserts of Armonia, there are lots and lots of rest stops for Armonian travelers to of course stop and rest at. While Armonians are built to be extra sneezy to get sand, dirt, and other irritants clear of their more sensitive bodies, sometimes all that sand and dust gets trapped in their noses. So in almost every rest stop, there's either a living worker or a special machine that helps tease those stuck sneezes out of the poor hitchy Armonian.

In this case, the machines are a fully automated AI driven process that's monitored by an overarching network of other AIs and living Armonian technicians that are equipped with a number of tools to help tease sneezes out of afflicted travelers. Because these machines are controlled by AIs, they often can be adjusted to the users comfort, speaking to them soothingly in the user's choice of voice (Armonian AI voices were synthesized with the consent of those part of the recording process in the past, AIs now have enough to data from participants to create their own voices at any time without any input), choice of tool(s), that kind of stuff. Once parameters are chosen, the Armonian in question sits down in the chair (with optional restraints as some Armonians have a hard time staying still as their noses are teased) and the process begins. The machine will often use a tool to keep the nostrils open and flared for ease of access. From here it will begin to use a variety of tools, inserting long and thin rods that are sometimes equipped with low amperage and voltage shockers that can quickly stimulate the nose, soft feather like appendages for extra teasing, sometimes even special sprays full of particles that cause sneezing in all Armonians. Due to Armonians using the services not being allowed to sniffle or do anything that would keep the mess and irritants inside, the machine will often provide tissues or cloths similar to handkerchiefs to blow the Armonian's nose.

When the machine deems the process done, it cleans up the Armonian and will often catch any final stray sneezes in a tissue or handkerchief and as the majority of machine AIs are very caring, they will offer words of praise and accomplishment before the Armonians leaves. Armonians on long journeys regardless of transportation method will stop at multiple of these rest stops to have received help with releasing their stuck sneezes. Even those who travel via enclosed vehicles like the gravtrams or personal vehicles often stop for this service, because no matter how sealed the vehicles are, the doors still have to open from time to time.

Hopefully that answers your questions in a way that's not too horribly written :3

[octuscle]

New start, new chance

Actually, Benjamin didn't really know why he went to the fun fair in the first place. Roller coasters used to be fun for him. But today, all his bones would certainly ache. Chain carousel? He was definitely too fat for that. Cotton candy? Beer? Bratwurst? He didn't like any of them. And the audience here was too young, too loud, too chavvy… So: What was he doing here? Benjamin shrugged his shoulders inwardly. Maybe he was longing for a time long gone, when he himself would have liked to be young, loud and chavvy? In fact, he never was. He had always been a well-adjusted child with few friends. And chess or astronomy hadn't exactly been loud hobbies for the cool kids. Maybe as he drove past the fun fair in the cab, he had remembered BIG. One of the first movies with Tom Hanks. My God, he had seen it at the movies. How many years ago was that? Fifty? He had no idea. But the overnight transformation of the hero had been the first transformation where something like a sexual fantasy had shown up in him. He really hadn't been to a fun fair in decades. But maybe here he found the miracle to transform his old, sick and completely out of shape body.

Of course, there was no ancient machine here that looked like the one in the movie. There was no enchanted tent with a creepy fortune teller either. There were bumper cars. There was a ghost train. And at least there was a lottery booth. Well, it couldn't hurt to buy a lottery ticket. And sure enough, it wasn't a loser. It was a small, cheap-looking picture frame. But in it, after all, was a photo of a young man who looked young, loud, and chavvy. Oh well. Benjamin put the frame in his coat pocket; he could always throw it away when he got home.

Benjamin made his way home. A cab wasn't coming by. By the time he had climbed the stairs to his spacious old apartment on the third floor, he was actually a little out of breath. Taking off his coat, he noticed the picture frame. For one night, that could sit quietly on the nightstand. By the time Benjamin had eaten dinner and gotten ready for the night, he had long since forgotten his visit to the fun fair and the photo.

This can't be true! This is a cursed dream! There is no magic! Benjamin walked through his apartment the next morning, completely distraught. It had been like in a bad movie. Benjamin had gone to the bathroom to pee. As was his habit, he sat down to do it. At his age, he could no longer aim well. Suddenly he noticed that everything was different. He had a tight morning wood. His morning wood had an impressive Prince Albert piercing. He held the morning glory in his hands, skin colorfully inked but otherwise immaculately smooth. Curses. He turned around in the guest bathroom and looked in the mirror. His reflection was the young man from the picture on the nightstand. So not one-to-one. He would say his reflection looked like he would have looked when he was maybe 22. If he had spent a lot of time at the tattoo artist. And if he had played a lot of sports. The picture, where was the picture? He had put it on the nightstand. But it wasn't there anymore. There was a picture of him as he had looked last night. An old, sick man in his late 70's. The photo was carefully staged, he looked good. And the frame was sterling silver, like most of the frames of his pictures of friends and relatives he had long since buried. And this picture frame also had black crape stretched across one corner. Curses! Was he dead? Was this heaven?

The apartment looked the same as it had last night. His cleaning lady had just been there, everything was neat and clean. He had a nice apartment where he had accumulated many nice things in his life. The only thing that didn't fit in the apartment was a naked, athletic young man in his early 20s who had tattoos all over his body and, in addition to the PA, had a pretty fat rod stuck in his nipples. Fuck!"Fuck" obviously suited him better than "Curses." Fuck! Actually, he would put on some tea at this hour, now he needed something stronger. Somehow he felt like a whiskey, but he didn't have anything like that in the house. A cognac. Oh well, better than nothing. And maybe some music would calm him down. There was still a recording of "Four Last Songs" by Strauss in the CD player from last night. That would help. My God, was the music loud, had he really been so deaf. Startled, he turned down the volume.

The cognac helped, the music helped. And then the doorbell rang. Fuck, he was still naked. And his clothes wouldn't fit him anymore. There was a heavy knock on the door. What was he going to do now. He still had an old pair of track pants in his closet. He had gone to physiotherapy in them God knows how long ago, they should fit to some extent. The knocking continued. "Hello!" he heard his neighbor call from downstairs. "Is anyone there?". Benjamin pulled up his pants, pulled the drawstring as tight as it would go, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Mrs. Gruber flinched in fright as she looked up into his face. But composed herself surprisingly quickly. And smiled at him, to his horror. "You must be Ben," she said, extending her hand to him. "Your great uncle has told me so much about you. And he wasn't lying, the family resemblance is amazing. Allow me to offer my sincere condolences." Benjamin didn't understand anything. But he pulled himself together and invited Mrs. Gruber inside. He apologized for being upset, but lied that his suitcase had been lost and that he had to see if anything fit him here. Mrs. Gruber waved him off. Apparently, the older lady liked what she saw a little, too. "It's all good," she replied. "I'm just glad to meet you. I don't want to be a bother at all, either. If there's anything you need, I live right below you." She squeezed his hand and left the apartment. Benjamin realized that she would have to visit the neighbors one by one and tell them about the news. Condolences? Great uncle? What the hell? He didn't have a brother who could have a son to carry on his name. And he wasn't dead. Or was he? The picture on the bedside table said so, after all. Benjamin went into the study. There on the desk were a number of unopened letters that had not been there yesterday. Letters from his life insurance companies. Letters from his bank. A letter from the district court. He took the letter opener and opened it. It was the probate of his will. Obviously, he had died yesterday. And today was already a few weeks later. And he was Ben now. And he was his own universal heir. And after opening the letters from the bank and the life insurance companies, he was a very wealthy universal heir. But who the hell was he himself? There were no clothes that matched him, there was nothing to indicate anyone but his old self in that apartment. On the dresser next to the door, keys and wallet lay in the bowl. Just as they always were. With trembling fingers, he took the wallet and pulled out his ID card. He was Ben Horner. In two months he would turn 23. He had just re-registered and now lived in this apartment. There was no driver's license. Well, he knew from the grandchildren of acquaintances that this was no longer common. But there was a debit card from his bank with his new name. Ben, not Benjamin. And on the cent as much cash as he had had in his wallet yesterday, about 500 euros.

Ben sat on the sofa and sipped the cognac. Fuck, that was a dream! But God knows, not a nightmare. This was better than being in BIG. While he was thinking, he started to play with his cock, lost in thought. And with his nipple. Awesome how the piercings felt. And insane how his cock reacted. When had he ever had such a hard-on? Never, not so big, so plump. Fuck! Ben cummed. Shit, don't fuck up the pads, he thought. So he massaged his own cum into the skin on his chest. Still, he needed something to wear now.

With the tightest fine-rib shirt he could find, sweatpants and his old adilettes Ben left the house. Because the noble Montblanc wallet didn't match this outfit, he had simply put the cash and the EC card into his pants pocket. At the door, he had to think for a moment. Where was he supposed to buy something now. He remembered that there was a second-hand store around the corner, where young people like him often went. That's where he headed. A good choice! Behind the cash register stood a young man who was hardly less inked than himself. And who was similarly well-built, as he himself. Fuck! Couldn't he get his dick under control at all? Ben had come up with a little story. Visiting the city, suitcase lost by the airline, now he needed something for the next few days. For sports, for going out. And for driving lessons on the motorcycle. That had always been his dream. He wanted to put it into practice immediately. The young man had asked about his budget. Without thinking, Ben said € 2,000.00. The daily limit of the EC card did not allow more, if he remembered correctly. The young man said with a grin that one could do quite a bit for that, assessed Ben's size, sent him into a changing room and began to pick out things. Two hours and € 2,000.00 later, Ben stepped out into the fresh air again. Biker boots, torn jeans, a tank top that showed plenty of skin and over it an old black motorcycle jacket that smelled of leather and sweat. Trying it on had given him a boner again. But this time the attendant had come to his rescue. For the first time in his life, Ben cum in another guy's face.

The rest of his purchases were stowed in an old duffel bag from the National People's Army of the GDR. Money and his EC card, which was non-functional for today, were in a wallet attached to his studded belt by a heavy chain. Now he desperately needed a cell phone. George, the horny guy from the store, wanted his number, but he had never had a cell phone. So he had to give him his landline number. And promise to send him a message as soon as he had a phone.

The next few days flew by. He had given the contents of his closet to the old clothes collection without thinking about it. Everything, without exception. And he had made every effort to fill the closets again. He loved his new body. And wanted to show it off. He had quickly found his new style. Slim jeans or leather pants, tank tops and T-shirts preferably in black or white, leather or bomber jackets. Tracksuits, sleek and shiny. George sold some old pieces of army surplus from Eastern Europe that were a great fit for Ben. He quickly learned to use his new iPhone. He had a harder time with the driving lessons at the beginning. But he mastered that, too. And after just one month, he was proudly driving a used BMW in front of his new favorite café. Twice a week, he took it to the motorcycle workshop to learn more about the engine. He wanted to learn everything. He had learned a lot about how to use his boner from George. He had quickly shed his shyness about being a virgin.

With friends visiting him more and more often, even at home, he had at some point made the decision to part with his old household goods as well. What he had not sold after two months at antique dealers he knew from his last life, at flea markets or on ebay, he finally had picked up. To celebrate the empty apartment, he had invited a few friends. At least since that time he was no longer greeted so friendly in the staircase. For a while, he had considered opening a shared apartment in his old apartment, but the stuffiness of his neighbors pissed him off. So he had hired a real estate agent to sell the apartment and took a room in a student flat-share. Here, no one minded if a party escalated. And the parties escalated frequently.

A year after his great uncle died, Ben stood on the small terrace outside his room and lit a cigarette. God, he loves to smoke. Too bad he had hardly known Benjamin. At least he was only a vague memory now. He owed everything to his great uncle. Tonight, some of his buddies were going to the fun fair with him. Boozing and bawling, drunkenly riding bumper cars. He hadn't done that in a long time. And should he see a sign that a young man was wanted as a temp, he had made up his mind to apply. A year or two would certainly be fun. For some reason, he loves the fun fair.

@fullleatherman, great picture, awesome inspiration!

[gunzlotzofgunz]

Breda Bren LMG

.30-06 Calibre Light Machine Gun. BMB - Breda Meccanica Brescia manufacture and post war dated in excellent deactivated condition. Complete with Transit Chest, Spare matching number Barrel, 12 x Magazines in Box and Cleaning Rod. These little known Breda made Brens were made in Italy from 1959 until the mid 1970’s for the Corpo Delle Guardie, a blanket term for paramilitary police, who are responsible for guarding all government infrastructure, bodyguards, strikes on the Mafia, and suppression of political radicals. They were only ever made in .30-06 Calibre but are marked 7.62 This is because the Italians use the metric system, and .30 calibre in metric is 7.62mm.

[sirowsky-stories]

The Flowers Always Know

Chapter 1 - Welcome Home

Description: As you came home from your vacation in Europe, you knew something was wrong. Hoping it was merely jet-lag, you tried to ignore it, but that was a mistake.

**Beware! Author chooses NOT to display warnings on the individual chapters of this story. Read at your own risk!**

Author's Note: This was my third ever series, and I've learned so much as a writer since then that I wanted to take another stab at it and make these characters richer and the writing easier to follow. The original posts seem to be trapped in the past, however, so if I want to use the updated editor I have to re-post them, which means there might be a minor Marcus Moreno spam on this account for a while. Sorry about that in advance. (Not that one could ever have too much MM...)

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 811 (133 words added) Masterlist (this story)

   Somewhere in Egypt, a woman sits strapped to a chair. She’s clearly been tortured and is bleeding from her nose, ears and a multitude of cuts and abrasions. She’s connected to several machines by tubes as well as wires, and a dark figure moves through the shadows around her, waiting and hoping that his experiment will succeed this time.

-=¤=-

   The sun seemed brighter than usual when you stepped out of the airport.    Normally, you loved basking in the sun, feeling that heat going all the way into your bones and seeming to soften you from the inside out. But right then, it felt so bright it was blinding. Almost as though you could feel the rays burn your skin in mere seconds, even though you knew they weren’t.

   You wanted to get away from it as quickly as possible, so you ducked into a cab, stealing it from what looked like a banker, who was just about to get in when you all but wrestled past him through the door.    You didn’t even bother apologizing as you closed it in his enraged face with a loud bang, and sank into the mercifully dimmed backseat as you gave the address of your home to the driver.

   God, what was wrong with you? When had you ever stolen anything from anyone? You let people ahead of you in the que at the grocery store, for fuck’s sake.

   Once home, you dashed inside and hurried around the house to close all the blinds and curtains. You’d never done that before, not since buying the place six years earlier, so little puffs of dust were disturbed as you roughly yanked at the fabrics, making you cough.    You had changed the curtains, of course, but you weren’t the most prolific duster of a person, so the curtain-rods had never been cleaned despite the swaps of fabrics.

   Not that you cared about the dust now either. You were more concerned with why the daylight was suddenly bothering you so much, since you weren’t a damned vampire.    With the entire house plunged into a wearisome gloom you stepped into your bathroom intending to take a shower, hoping that washing the hours of travel off your skin might make you feel less sensitive somehow.    But you stopped on the threshold, suddenly worried that even the bright light of the bathroom ceiling lamp was gonna hurt you.

   “Stop it, girl. Light doesn’t hurt you,” you admonished yourself, and then flipped the switch.

   You were relieved when the artificial light didn’t seem to bother you at all, but then you caught your reflection in the large mirror above the sink, and flinched when you almost didn’t recognize yourself.    You were pale. And not just pale but slightly grey as well, to the extent that your veins were visible through your skin. The whites of your eyes were bloodshot, and your irises seemed to be the wrong colour, turned deeper and darker than they should be.    Even your hair looked completely lifeless, and somehow, the roots had turned grey.

   Suddenly you understood why the light was bothering you so much, as you seemingly had no pigmentation left to protect you from it. But how did that even happen? And especially considering that you’d been alright less than twenty-four hours ago.    Something had happened to you in Egypt, you knew that much. But unfortunately, you had no recollection of it, and therefor couldn’t guess at the severity of it.

   You’d just woken up in a hospital the day before you were meant to leave, and the doctors had told you how you’d most likely suffered heat-stroke, since they hadn’t been able to find anything wrong with you.    You had found it strange that you seemed to be missing two whole days of time, but since the doctors had given you a clean bill of health, you’d decided not to worry about it. And yesterday, when you’d left for the airport, you’d felt fine.

   This was not fine. You were not fine. You needed to go to the hospital.    But the thought of going outside again while the sun was still up felt so distressing to you, that you decided to wait. You’d have your shower and then try and eat something while you waited for it to get dark.    But you did make a stern promise to yourself to call an ambulance if it got any worse.

   It was strange how you could look so abhorrently ill, and yet not feel all that bad. You were tired, sure, and your appetite could have been better, but you didn’t feel anything close to as bad as you looked.    Although, if you’d had any idea of just how bad things were about to get, you’d have slapped yourself silly, and gotten your scrawny fucking ass to the hospital the moment you saw your reflection.