#Genital massage

[tantrakamahealing]

Website : https://www.tantrakamahealing.com

Address : Sydney (Maroubra) & Byron Bay (Potsville), Australia

Tantra Kama Healing, founded by Pauline Claire Marie, offers a unique blend of tantric massage, somatic sexology, and holistic healing practices in Sydney and Byron Bay. Specializing in individual and couple sessions, the services are designed to foster self-discovery, intimacy, and sensual empowerment. The offerings include tailored tantric sessions, workshops, and retreats, focusing on body-mind harmony and spiritual self-realization.

Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/kamahealing/

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[teathyme4thedevil]

~ Thyme to Introduce Myself ~

*This blog's contents may have mentions of NSFW content, but I myself will never write any full-on smut. Reblogs may be sensual though.*

Hello. You can refer to the mod of this page as Mod. I use they/them pronouns and am an adult. I write Obey Me! fanfiction, headcanons, imagines and more. If you like my work and want to stick around to see what's next in store, welcome~!

Who's Thyme Anyways?

Whenever I write about Obey Me!'s MC, I use my MC Thyme. They are an AMAB Agender Aromantic Asexual and are in a poly queer platonic relationship with the brothers. Thyme allows the brothers to love on them, as long as they don't take it too far when doing so. The brothers are okay with Thyme only viewing them platonically as long as Thyme is okay with them having feelings for them, which they are.

It's basically the fluffiest, snuggliest one-sided relationship ever.

*Thyme will never feel sexual feelings for the brothers or anyone else. They are a non-sexual entity.

What have you written so far?

Obey Me! Headcanons:

Demonic Behavior Headcanons #1 Demonic Behavior Headcanons #2 Demonic Romance Headcanons

Demon/Human Pact Mark Headcanons

MC's Dynamic With Each of the Brothers

Brother’s Reaction to an Aromantic Asexual MC

Obey Me! One-Shots:

Bedtime Routine - Mammon x MC

[ilovedirt]

I'm always trying to advertise my single friends to each other like oh check out my guy *holds him up by the scruff of the neck and dangles him in front of you thru the pet shop window*

[teaboot]

why should i use shower scrubbers instead of just washing with me hands

The flat smooth skin of your palms and fingertips isn't super great at lathering or scrubbing, and while it may be okay for washing small areas, it's a much slower and less effective process than just having a washcloth.

Your fingernails might scratch dead skin and dirt off pretty well, but your fingernails hold onto dirt and fungus, and using your nails to scrub yourself can transport that nasty shit to other parts of your body, especially if you're giving yourself microabrasians or scratch-scrubbing too hard.

Watching yourself with your nails would admittedly be much more hygienic if your nails were cleaned of these things first, but if you're going to do THAT, you'll need something to wash under your nails with. Like, say... a scrubber. And at that point you've already brought a scrubber into the equation.

If you ONLY use your hands to wash, then you have resigned yourself to either washing your ass and genitals DEAD LAST or you're washing your only human face with your butt scrubbing hands and that's between you and your god

Warm wet scrubby feel good on face, good on skin. Get a nice warm soapy massage all over? Love me that shit

Scrubber go in laundry, get nice and clean, fresh for next time

Idk about anyone else but if I go to someone's house and use their bathroom and see they got face towel and bath towel separate AND some kinda loofah or scrubby or lil scratchy shower towel out for themselves then that is a Green Flag. I trust you with a baby and I trust you with my phone and I sure as fuck trust you not to give me fuckin jaundice or some shit shaking hands. I imagine you to be an upstanding and respectable citizen with a pure soul and a clean ass. Good day

[minswriting]

18+ nsfw | mdni | spencer reid x reader

warnings: p in v, loss of virginity, fingering (f), etc.

imagine losing your virginity with early season spencer. the both of you have never really slept with anyone before and after a private conversation after a case, the two of you had decided to lose it together. just friends helping friends right? that was until spencer had arrived to your place with a bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly at your door, dressed in a fresh sweater vent, cardigan, and pair of slacks. and you? you were dressed in a simple summer dress.

you had prepared a meal, nothing too fancy. just a chicken and pasta dish that you thought would be good to have before anything and a glass of wine, to ease any tension. the two of you had a great time, just chatting, laughing with one another. the nerves you had felt previously had gone away as spencer told you random facts about random topics. it made you realize that your choice to lose your virginity with him was a good one.

“are-are you sure you still want to do this?” spencer asked after the two of you had made it to the bedroom, both of you sitting on your bed next to one another. “we don’t have to do it yet if we aren’t ready,” he added.

you looked at the brown haired boy, giving him a small smile. “i still want to,” you replied softly. “do you?”

spencer nodded his head, reflecting your smile on his face. “yes, i do,” he said. he brought a hand up to your check, moving a piece of hair that had fallen into your face and tucking it behind your ear. “can i uh- can i kiss you?” he asked.

“please,” you said.

spencer licked his lips before leaning in, hesitantly kissing your lips. the kiss was soft and tentative, something you hadn’t really felt before. you’ve had your first kiss of course but it never felt as…tender as this kiss. you kissed spencer back, putting a hand on the back of his head.

eventually it led to the two of you pawing at each other, the kiss getting hungrier and deeper. you both had taken your clothes off for the most part, except for your underwear. spencer wore a pair of plaid boxers while you wore a black bra and panties set.

spencer would lay you down gently, going on top of you shakily as he kisses your lips. his movements are tentative, shaky, a bit unsure. but you’re both more than eager. his hands roam your body while your arms are wrapped around his neck. his right hand gently grazes your bra, hesitating to massage the flesh underneath. so he pulls away from the kiss. “can i touch you?” he asked softly.

“yes,” you replied in the same tone.

spencer licked his lips, as he brought his hand underneath your bra, massaging the skin gently. you let out a soft moan as his fingers brushed against your nipple. he moved his hand to your back, shakily unclasping your bra and pulling it off of you. he threw the material to the other side of the room, taking in your breasts. “you-you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, looking at your tits and then at your face.

you gave him a smile. “thank you,” you said softly, allowing your hands to roam his torso.

spencer licked his lips. “you know, when your nipples are stimulated, they send sparks in the genital sensory cortex which is the same part of the brain as vaginal or clitoral stimulation,” he exclaimed, pressing kisses down your neck and onto your chest. he kissed your right boob before taking your nipple and putting it into his mouth. he sucked and licked on the nub.

you let out a soft moan, “oh,” you said, feeling your arousal pooling in your panties.

spencer used his other hand to trail down your body, his fingers making their way to the waistline of your panties. you let out a shaky breath, spreading your legs for your coworker. he slipped his fingers underneath the waistline, bringing them to your slit. he moved his middle finger down and up your cunt, spreading around the wetness before finding your clit and rubbing circles onto it.

you moaned again, this time your eyes fluttering shut as your pussy was finally being touched. with how knowledgeable spencer was, it wasn’t too surprising that he knew exactly what would pleasure you.

spencer continued to rub your clit in circles while sucking on your tits, making you feel as though your body was on fire. you could feel his bulge pressing into your thigh, signaling just how much this was turning him on. after a few minutes, spencer stopped rubbing your clit, his middle finger dipping down to your hole. you let out a shaky moan as he inserted his finger. “you’re so wet,” spencer murmured, looking at you as he thrusted his finger inside of you slowly.

you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut. the feeling was foreign but not bad. you’ve touched yourself a few times before but it had been different. your fingers were different from spencer’s. and his felt so good. “wet for you,” you whispered, licking your lips.

“yeah you are,” spencer smiled, adding another finger and curling it, hitting your g-spot.

you let out a louder moan, arching your back as he thrusted his fingers faster inside of you. “oh fuck!” you said. “f-for someone who’s never done this before, you-“ you moaned mid-sentence. “you know quite a bit.”

spencer let out a breathless chuckle, continuing his pace with his fingers. “i’ve studied a lot,” he replied, watching you.

you felt a heat building in your abdomen, signaling the beginnings of your release. you let out a whine of pleasure, your walls tightening around spencer’s fingers. “so close,” you said, bringing a hand to spencer’s shoulder to hold onto.

“yeah?” spencer said. “go ahead, cum for me, baby,” he replied as he worked his digits inside of you.

and so you came, thighs shaking, back arching, moaning. “spencer,” you moaned as you came. spencer fingered you through your orgasm and when you finished, you relaxed, breathing heavily. spencer removed his fingers from your cunt, looking at you with flushed cheeks. “you’re so beautiful,” he said, bringing his fingers to his mouth. he licked the digits, tasting your juices on his tongue. you watched him as he began to suck on his fingers. you bit your lip, watching him. even though you had just came, you felt yourself getting aroused again. “and you taste delightful,” spencer said as he stopped sucking on his fingers. he looked at you, licking his lips. “are you- are you sure you want to continue? i mean- you did just finish. i don’t want it to be too much for you,” he asked with consideration towards you.

“please,” you responded. “i want you, spence.”

and that was all spencer needed to smile and get up. “i- uh i came prepared of course,” he exclaimed, looking around the room for his pants. the bulge in his boxers was very prominent as you looked at him. you pulled your panties off, throwing them to the side as you waited for spencer. he grabbed his pants, pulling out a condom from the back pocket. he walked back over to the mattress, holding the packet in his hand. he swallowed thickly before slowly pulling down his boxers, revealing his hard length. he let out a hiss as the cool air hit his cock.

spencer’s cock was big to say the least. it was red and angry, begging to be touched. “you’re so big,” you whispered, almost amazed at the length. it wasn’t too girthy but it was perfect.

“you think so?” he asked a bit shyly.

you nodded your head, looking up at spencer with a smile. you looked back at his cock, licking your lips. spencer cleared his throat, ripping the condom package open and tossing the foil to the side. he began putting the latex on his cock, pulling it onto his length and ensuring it was on properly.

“are you ready?” he asked, looking down at you.

“yes,” you said clearly, looking up at spencer.

and then he was back on top of you. you spread your legs for him as he brought his cock to your pussy, teasing you by rubbing his tip against your clit, causing the both of you to let out small moans. “it’s going to hurt at first,” he murmured a bit shakily as he held himself up by one hand, his other guiding his cock.

“i’m a big girl, i can take it,” you replied softly, bringing a hand to spencer’s hair and moving a strand out of his face before resting it on his shoulder.

spencer leaned down to kiss you softly, slowly moving his lips against yours. he guided his cock to your hole, slowly and carefully easing himself inside. you inhaled sharply, feeling the stretch of having a cock inserted inside of you for the first time. “are you okay?” he whispered against your lips as he stopped for a moment.

you nodded your head, eyes closed in slight pain. “just keep going,” you whispered back, holding onto spencer.

and so he did. and when he finally bottomed out, he stayed still, allowing you time to adjust. he had read in several books that women tend to feel quite a bit of pain during their first time. so he wanted to ensure that you felt good before he began moving.

after a few minutes, the stinging began to ease up. and you could feel yourself relaxing. you swallowed, opening your eyes to see spencer’s beautiful brown orbs already looking down at you. “i think- i think you can move now,” you whispered to him.

“are you sure?” he asked, looking unsure.

“i’m sure.”

spencer nodded his head, leaning down once more to capture your lips with his as he moved his hips out and then back in very slowly. the both of you moaned. he began to get into a rhythm of moving slowly, relishing in the feeling of your tight and wet cunt around him.

“god, you feel so good around me,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as he thrusted his cock in and out of you.

you let out a shaky moan as the pain turned into pleasure quite quickly. he was filling you up so deeply, something you had never felt before. and god did it feel good. “is so deep,” you said, gently clawing at his back. “you-you can move faster.”

spencer swallowed before moving his hips faster inside of you, causing you both to whine. it felt so good. you finally understood what everyone had been talking about. sex truly was pleasurable. and sex with spencer just certainly felt…perfect. it didn’t matter what else was going on in the world because you had him. and this experience is so much more than just sex with a coworker.

“fuck,” spencer moaned, grinding his cock inside of you. “i don’t think i can last,” he said, embarrassed.

you moaned, nodding your head. “that’s okay,” you replied, kissing spencer’s lips. “just as long as it feels good, that’s all that matters,” you reassured.

spencer let out a whimper, burying his face in your neck as he thrusted his hips. he moaned into your skin, moving his hips more frantically. you felt your own orgasm approaching as his cock kept hitting that spongy spot inside of you repeatedly. and with a loud whine, spencer was cumming, moaning your name as he came. it didn’t take long at all for you to follow, arching your back as you moaned spencer’s name at him.

and when you both finished, spencer pulled out, moving to lay right next to you. the both of you were breathing heavily, taking a moment to process exactly what had just happened. after a few minutes, you looked over at spencer, who turned his head to look at you, and the both of you smiled and laughed. “i can’t believe that just happened,” you said, laughing.

“ahh me neither,” spencer replied, moving so that he could put his arm underneath your head. “i’m glad it did though.”

you smiled. “me too,” you replied. “we’re definitely going to do that again,” you said.

“oh most definitely,” he said as he brought his fingers to your chin, lifting it to meet your lips with his.

after that, sex with your coworker became a normal thing. and it was safe to say that feelings eventually became involved.

[fairyysoup]

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore. 

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?” 

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with. 

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.” 

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?” 

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.” 

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind. 

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open. 

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it. 

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter. 

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.” 

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look. 

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens. 

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies. 

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again. 

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible. 

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.” 

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?” 

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit. 

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.” 

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head. 

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat. 

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors. 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror. 

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it. 

Cocky bastard.  

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?” 

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places. 

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation. 

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.  

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for. 

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time. 

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back. 

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?” 

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?” 

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?” 

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right. 

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander. 

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all. 

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.” 

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.” 

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.” 

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?” 

“Yeah, not too flashy.” 

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.” 

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up. 

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you. 

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven. 

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room. 

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.” 

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck. 

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh. 

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?” 

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.” 

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.” 

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you. 

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat. 

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more. 

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather. 

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already. 

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.” 

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same. 

“Good girl.” 

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume. 

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling. 

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.” 

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours. 

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.” 

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes. 

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs. 

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him. 

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down. 

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.” 

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it. 

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

[warmbeebosoftbeebo]

i wanna talk about how soft bden's hands are

and by talk, i mean be smutty about sarah and him giving each other massages all over with lotions, oils (to keep each other's skin soft... and really turn each other on, have it blend in with lots of sex...), the fact he keeps them so soft largely for her ;) (including on her genitals just sayin...)

i'll stop now, but suffice to say i'm having fic ideas

[effy-writes]

Fizzarolli x Reader x Asmodeus HC

• You always tend to wear Fizz's clothes. You'll say your clothes are in the wash but both Ozzie and Fizz know that that's an excuse to wear his clothes. Sometimes you would steal his pj's to wear around the house and in bed. Fizz would look for them every night before finally realizing that you're wearing them. The first time he caught you wearing his pj's you were already in the bed sleeping beside of Ozzie. Ozzie would laugh to himself seeing Fizz scavange around the room looking for them until Ozzie finally pointed to you sleeping nice and cozy in Fizz's pj's.

• Ozzie LOVES washing your hair. Every time you tell him that you're gonna take a shower/bath he's always rushing in to wash your hair. He finds it so sensual to message your scalp using warm water, pouring on your favorite scent onto your hair and lather it. It's super relaxing to you, feeling his big hands work slowly around your head to get your hair clean. When it's time to wash the shampoo and conditioner out he'll put one hand over your eyes and the other hand on the shower handle to get the soap out of your hair.

• Because Fizz doesn't have any feeling on his arms and legs (obvi), you use your tail to hold his tail whenever you guys are walking (as well as holding his hand). You know he loves physical touch and wants to let everyone know that you're in a relationship with him, so holding his tail with yours is a win-win. He can feel your touch, at the same time hold your hand. He also loves using his face and tail to touch your body. Rubs his cheek on yours (face cheek, jesus), rubs his tail along your torso, arms, legs, genitals, everywhere because he wants to feel you.

• After having a long day out or getting sick you love to crawl on Ozzie's lap and sleep. Ozzie finds it cute to watch you climb onto his lap and get comfy like a cat (he also calls you kitty as a nickname). He loves to watch you sleep, not in a creepy way, but he knows that you're safe and comfortable whenever you're sleeping on or next to him, he makes him happy and so he can't help to watch you sleep.

• When it's time for bed you're always in the middle of the double king size bed. Fizz and Ozzie (especially Ozzie) feel like it's their job to protect you, so they want you in the middle. You don't mind it though. Sometimes Ozzie is the big spoon and you're holding Fizz (and vice versa) Other times both you and fizz are laying on top of Ozzie.

• Fizz is so good at massages because of his mechanical arms. He loves giving them to you without even asking because he knows it makes you happy (and he gets happy when you're happy). He'll give you a full body massage from your shoulders allll the way down to your feet. He'll ask if you want him to massage your ass muscles, and 99% of the time you'll say yes.

• For some reason you are always getting hurt. Whether it's falling down from a dance pole, scraping your knees from tripping on your shoes, Ozzie is always the one to bandage you up. He'll be worried about you, but then scold you on how to be more careful next time. He always says pole dancing is hard and that you have to be patient with it but you didn't listen. So he is always begging you to slow down on it so you won't get hurt again.

• Fizz loves kissing your cheek and your hands. He'll greet you with hand kisses and says goodbye with cheek kisses. Ozzie however, loves kissing the top of your head. He's much taller so the closest thing he can kiss quickly is the top of your head. Other than that, he's like Fizz, kissing your hand and sometimes your neck.

•Lastly, the two of them absolutely HATES to see you cry. Especially Ozzie, he will literally go haywire and might kill someone. So whenever you need some sort of comfort you go to Fizz. He'll hold you, rock you, and let you cry it out to him while he comforts you. He lets you know how much you're worthy and how much he and Ozzie loves you. If Ozzie catches you crying he will first beg you to tell him who hurt you, but then soon enough does the same thing what Fizz does, but he's still more on the "i'm gonna fuck somebody up"

[cardinalcanis]

Compliance

*Comes out of a dark alley* "Hey kid, want some Titus smut to scramble that brain chemistry real good? I got your fix."

This is @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond 's fault.

Summary: Titus was struggling with some unexpected side effects from the Rubicon Surgery, luckily he finds relief in unexpected hands.

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x NB!OC

Tw: smut, Adeptus Mechanicus, prostate massage, edging, genitals are a social construct, technically tentacles, Astartes have more holes than you think (trust me), MATH.

Word count: 7316

Tag squad (let me know if you wish to be tagged on stuff): @druidwolf21 @wolf-feathers12 @artemisareia @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @jaghatai-khock @horuslupercal

@moodymisty @lemon-russ @thisuserislilsilly

@sinistermojo @beckyninja @justallll @ms--lobotomy @pluvio-tea

Mechanicus speech cheat sheet:

When the hyperfocus gets in my mind goes so hard into ideas it gets them pregnant. So as this has a lot of Math Symbols as I went hamm on writing the Tech Priest’s way of speaking. I’m not a mathematician, I played loosely with stuff and their meanings, do not scream at me. Here is a quick list: 

>    -> More than. 

=    -> equals. 

!    -> negation of, no 

+++    -> increase. 

<=    -> less or equal to

&    -> and 

- - -    -> decrease 

T(statement)    -> that statement or thing is always true. 

=>    -> therefore, implies, if… then

!=    -> not equals to

∈    -> belongs to

⇔    -> if and only if, only.  

\/    -> or

P(statement)    -> probability of statement

Statement1 | statement2    -> statement1 happened because statement2 happened. 

E(statement)    -> the statement is an expected result. 

∅    -> null

F(statement)    -> that statement or thing is always false. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lieutenant Demetrian Titus of the Ultramarines, Liberator of Graia, slayer of Grimskull, veteran of the Deathwatch, bane of xenos, executioner of Thousand Sons… reduced to this pathetic drooling mess.

It had started around a month ago, the last bloody bug had been ripped to shreds but still he felt this hunger to keep going. He checked the state of his armor’s system, to his surprise the reserves of adrenaline shots hadn’t been used during the battle. Why did he still feel so restless? When did his bodyglove become so overstimulating? Had the material always been that noticeable on the skin when it was supposed to be seamless? Every single one of his nerve endings was screaming for touch, begging to be rubbed against something, ANYTHING. The worst was his aching groin, he had been close to believing that his codpiece was about to slingshot off him and get someone killed any second now. 

“Testosterone > expected Astartes levels. Positive note. Risk factor = low. !(Possibility) of death.” had stated Magos Biologis Mu-Oragon, brown eyes scanning the dataslate. 

“Low risk factor? I can’t barely focus on anything else Magos. What’s causing this?” 

The mechanicus lifted their gaze from the datapad, pale skin bathed in its faint greenish glow. Titus couldn’t decipher if the person had been male or female before embracing the Omnissiah, but there was a graceful beauty on the mech priest that had been lacking on others of their kind… shit this is bad he’s now sexualizing one of those tin cans.

“This unit understands, patient’s +++frustration = expected. Rubicon <= a year.” 

“Yes.” He had started to rock slightly on his seat, trying to focus on anything else rather than the heat coming from his core. At least his armor helped with masking the worst parts of his current condition, unlike the joke that tried to call itself a robe which he had to wear for examination. 

“[(Rubicon <= a year)&(Testosterone > expected Astartes level)] = normal occurrence.” One of Mu’s mechadendrites reached for the shelf, pulling a heavy binder. They then held it open with the help of their four mechanical arms. “---Symptoms expected. T(Normal progression).” 

“And what do you want me to do in the meantime! I thought the apothecary had referred me here for a solution.” he exclaimed out of frustration standing off the examination table. “Don’t you have any meds you can give me?”

His whole body shivered at the unexpected cold grasp from three mechadendrites pinning him back into a seating position. Blood flowed to his cheeks due to the surprising arousal that came from being manhandled by the seemingly meek Mu. 

“Hormonal cycle must !(be) disturbed => not compliance.  Compliance => possible late implant rejection. I !(compromise) unit Titus’ safety.” Mu-Oragon said in what was a wholeheartedly caring tone, even through the respirator’s distortion.

Titus had been told they had been the one in charge of his rubicon surgery, the one who saved his life. An incredibly dangerous procedure in normal conditions, but with the scale of his wounds it almost meant impossible success. Even with all that he didn’t imagine the Magos would feel protective of him, he was just another number in his surgery record anyways.

“Mu I can’t fight like this…” The same shiver again but now caused by the Magos’ grasp leaving him. Only the phantom feeling of the touch floating over his skin, another painful release he couldn’t attain, adding to the breaking down of his sanity. 

“That statement is true. Hopeful contrast. !(medication) != !(relief).” 

It took him a moment to wrap his head around the meaning of Mu’s words. He had become better at understanding the Magos after the repeated checkups on his condition following the rubicon surgery, yet there wasn’t a chance he could call himself fluent in mechanicus speech, less with someone’s accent as strong as the one in front of him. 

“You can help then, is that what you mean?” 

“Titus attempted stimulation for release = True?” they asked, pulling what seemed to be an informative pamphlet from the binder. 

“You mean if I had tried jacking off?” 

“That statement is true.”

A soft flush washed over Titus’ cheeks, glad the Magos’ examination room was empty today, Emperor only knows how hard this conversation would be in front of others. How could a room feel both so hot and cold at the same time? One of Mu’s mechadendrites tilted his head to drive his attention back towards the mechanicus, the touch has such softness uncharacteristic of what a machine would have. Yet the exception existed on Mu-Oragon, every single one of their four arms and many mechadendrites was designed for careful surgery where an eighth of a millimeter could prove life or death. He couldn’t recall all the instances during previous examinations when he had been touched by them and only noticed it once the contact became absent. 

“Yes I have.” He answered, unfamiliar with the open disclosure of his intimate activities. “It hasn’t been working.”

“Elaboration on process required. Accurate solution given ⇔ accurate description of event.” 

Mu-Oragon seemed to be deciding between a collection of pamphlets and booklets, skimming through them with the many prosthetic ocular lenses around his forehead while keeping their human eyes on Titus, which added to the multiple limbs, gave them quite an arachnid appearance.  

“What do you want me to say? There is not much science to it…” Even though the theoretical was quite clear, for the first time since his neophyte years his mind found itself struggling to find a proper practical for it

Titus held Mu’s gaze, curiously the Magos Biologis had retained both of his human eyes, only attaching more ocular addons around. A thing the astartes found quite curious if compared to others of his kind, who preferred replacing the lesser biological counterparts first. Theoretical: Mu-Oragon retained their human eyes, practical: it was a conscious decision due to the more patient oriented side of their occupation, it helped to establish trust.

He found the practical fitting. Wide almond shaped eyes with a reassuring stare, a window to the candid individual living inside machine parts and shrouded in logic based statements. 

Mu-Oragon’s mechadendrite surprised him again by resting part of its weight on Titus’ shoulder, comprehending the man’s struggle for words. He pondered on how much was Mu’s intent and how much was the limb’s machine spirit acting, he would have been lying if admitting that the relationship between mechadendrites and users wasn’t something he found interesting. One of his brothers, a tech-marine, had explained how they were beings of their own possessing an individual machine spirit; yet perfectly synchronized with his mind. Many times acting upon his thoughts without realizing. 

“Following procedure occurs on common stimulation practice. True \/ false?” asked the Magos, extending a thin booklet towards him that read ‘Comprehensive guide to prostatic stimulation’.   

“No” he answered as stoically as he could, looking at the object being handed to him. 

“Inference: this unit’s previous statement = false.” chirped Mu, computer-like clicks emitted as they spoke, possibly running calculations. “Response to Titus’ current statement: compiled. Deeper stimulation > external. [+++P(relief) = P.relief (Release | deep stimulation)] > [+++P(relief) = P.relief (Release | external stimulation)]. E[(---surplus testosterone) \/ (∅surplus testosterone)]” 

“You mean I can fix this by showing things up my ass?” 

“Statement’s truthfulness cannot be validated. P[ ((---surplus testosterone) \/ (∅surplus testosterone)) | (Simple anal insertion) ] = not conclusive. Remark: Relief of ailment ⇔ proper technique = true.”   

Titus swallowed a knot in this throat, followed by a long sigh. He didn’t expect the prescription for his ailment to be a masturbation technique. 

“Doubts prostatic stimulation = E(relief)?” Asked Mu tilting their head to the side. “Inexperienced = true?” 

Titus nodded, noticing how he had been holding Oragon’s gaze the whole time. 

“I can provide asistance ⇔ (consent = True). (Perform on Titus & explain) ⇔ (consent = True)” 

The booklet crunched a bit as he held it tighter, Mu had pulled him apart and back together before, likely there is no piece of him they haven’t touched… in the medical sense. Throne that simple though made him almost produce a low gasp. A different occurrence may have ended up in the rejection of such a proposal, but his situation was all but common. He could barely stay still without rubbing his aching crotch against something. Theoretical: this is just a medical procedure; practical: nothing else will come out of it. 

“Alright Mu-Oragon.” He agreed in almost a whisper. “Just… please be careful.” 

“T(Titus’ wellbeing is my priority.)” Even through the respirator their tone came out gleeful and reassuring. 

A couple days after, back at his chambers, Titus gasped and struggled to achieve the previous results he had experienced with the Magos. He was following the same movements and booklet’s instructions to the letter, his fingers were bigger and thicker than Mu’s; still the efforts left him wanting. He had made himself cum, and it had felt good, yes. But his relief was a cup with a hole at the bottom, never filling. 

Titus pressed his face against the drool covered pillow, recalling the memory from the examination room. Every time Mu had pressed their fingers inside him an asphyxiating wave of pleasure had drowned him over and over, his hairs stood with the remembrance of the Magos’ muffled exhalations due to the effort of manhandling such a heavier man. Another finger, he went deeper, a reminiscent thought of firm steel hands that had held his legs still; spread. 

Mu had played him like the director of an astropathic choir does his organ. Has Titus been the only astartes with a similar issue they’ve had to help? He bit the pillow hard enough to cause a rip, there was anger. The thought of Mu-Oragon giving similar care to someone else brewed an overflowing pot of jealousy and rage in him. But why? It was the Magos Biologis’ job to aid the Astartes, it was obvious there was no emotional attachment to the action. Despite the evidence he couldn’t stop the reassuring and borderline loving statements they had directed at him during the procedure to eat at his mind. How comfortable they had made him feel in his vulnerability, how in the time of their exchange he had silently craved for Mu to touch more of his body, to touch theirs. 

Titus sat in silence, frustrated tears sliding off his cheeks, a lone company in the otherwise relatively bare room. It was quite late at what the battle barge’s internal schedule had designated as ‘night time’, how much of a ‘night owl’ was the mechanicus? Was it proper to visit them? Were they busy? Were they saving another Astartes’ life? Were they soothing other Astartes’ post rubicon testosterone spike? Next thing Titus knew he was already dressed, one thought in mind. He should go to see them, by the primarch’s honor he had to see Mu. 

He moved with haste, weaving through the crowd of servitors engrossed in periodic station maintenance under the watchful vigilance of Mu’s brethren. No, they couldn’t compare to the Magos, none of them. Shit, why did he cram the stupid booklet and lube he was provided into his pocket? It was too late to return, his body would have not allowed him. 

Throne, those clothes were clean out of the dryer though they encountered themselves drenched with sweat. Titus’ walk to the desired wing was a blur, the fight between will and arousal occupied his focus in its entirety. Demetrian’s awareness returned to the front stage with his arrival at Mu’s laboratory, empty except for servitors. He pressed on past examination tables and towering shelves full of implements Titus had no idea of purpose, he didn’t need to anyways, he already had one. 

“Mu…” he mouthed at a sound belonging to what could be Mu’s binharic speech. 

The series of rhythmic computation sounds came out of a nearby room, the door almost fully closed. From the narrow opening left, aside from the overpowering smell proper of incense and machine oil, he could make sense that it was a private chamber.

There they were, sitting crosslegged on the floor, bathed in candle glow making their augments look like consecrated gold. Mu was perpendicular from the door, immersed in sacred meditation. In front of them a towering representation of the machine god crowned the extensive cogitator it was embedded on. The Magos’ hood was down, exposing their side shaved head, what was left of their brown hair in the middle presented tightly tied in a low ponytail. Cables came out of ports and cogitators on the sides of their head, neck and under their robes, connecting them to the one they were praying to. Two of their hands were in a prayer position, the other two resting on their knees. The many mechadendrites seemed deactivated, filling a circle around Mu as they laid over the carpet, like the resting wings of an angel. 

He had opened the door a bit more, taking one step inside yet regretting it instantly. It felt wrong, he was a trespasser, disturbing a sacred intimate rite he didn’t belong at. Titus tried to turn back but a mechadendrite stood to life, clasping hand pointed at the marine as if it could see him. Mu’s eyes opened accompanied by a quick inhalation, reminding him of someone waking up from deep sleep. 

“Unit Demetrian Titus…” surprise took over the Magos whose mechadendrites waved around them covering them until they could pull their hood back up. “Urgent assistance = true?” 

The door rattled slightly as Titus’ hand trembled. Was he feeling fear? The feeling he was made immune of? Mu tilted their head, emitting a series of concerned clicks. They patted a space on the rug beside them, limbs pulling aside to make space for Titus. 

“Permissions granted; accompany this unit. ⇔ desired so.” 

He entered further, making sure that the door was closed behind him. The intensity of the incense only increased with his approach. Titus gave the machine god’s image a look, its aura swallowed him, he was allowed into the room but that didn’t mean he was welcomed, that it welcomed him. 

“Detecting elevated blood pressure, presence of hyperhidrosis. Inference: condition disturbed.” They pointed out when he sat, the rest of their limbs focused on respectfully disconnecting the cables that joined Mu to the room’s cogitator. “Request: details needed.”

“Magos I… I have been doing everything as told.” The words were hard to come up with, this was a bad idea, he wanted to run. “Please, believe me.” 

“Complicance.” they said in what could have been a sigh. “Hormoral reading required. !(time) for a blood scan, +++urgency.” With their words they took the disconnected end of one of the cables still attached to them. “Expedited read | (direct connection = true)” 

A mechanendrite exposed the port at his nape. Even taking into account that the Magos’ intentions were clear and the connection into the ports around his body was a day to day affair; he couldn’t but instinctively want to lean away from the attempt. At least while conscious he had only been connected to external machines and his armor, making Titus and it become one. He was unsure of what linking to another conscious creature would be like. 

“Mu wait… ah…” 

He gasped at the connector’s insertion, a cold wave washed over him. Then, pressure. An extra force needed to be applied for the linkage’s proper attachment. Titus flinched when the plug was inserted to full length and secured. It has never felt this way, the imperceptive clicking shouldn’t be that all consuming, the effortless pressure shouldn’t send a shivering echo across his whole nervous system. The next breath came from lungs outside of his chest cavity. Parallel thoughts stood by his own. Connection state: stable. +++(blood oxygenation). Execute t01101000… wait what? 

“Requests: stand still for reading.” Mu pleaded, their voice sounding closer than the separation between them suggested. “Current testosterone levels = previous reading. Insulin levels within Astartes range = true. Leptin levels within Astartes range =  true. HGH levels within Astartes range = true…” they paused, Titus couldn’t see Mu’s throat but felt it on his own as it moved in a swallow. “+++(Oxytoxin levels)” 

A mechadendrite slid its rigged tentacle down his back coming into a wrap around the waist. The Magos glared at it with burning disapproval hasting the limb to release him. Unbecoming = true.

“What is that? Is it wrong?” Titus asked, a pressing heat that wasn’t the one already overwhelming him joined the room. 

“Oxytoxin = {social bonding hormone, love hormone, reproduction…}” 

The command for Mu’s arm to disconnect from him was clear, Titus’ enhanced reflexes were faster, applying pressure on the Magos’ hand before it could pull the connector out. A heart that wasn’t his drummed frantically. P(mutual) = 80%. Could it be that they have also been feeling something similar? P(mutual) = 88%. For how long? P(mutual) = 90%...

Titus leaned forwards pressing his lips on Mu’s cheek right when it met with the respirator, the skin was so soft, their smell like the rest of the room = {iron, candle wax, incense, sweat}. Mu’s arms resisted the approach but the many mechadendrites welcomed him, they acted upon their master’s subconscious wishes. 

“+++(levels) = {oxytocin, adrenaline, dopamine, vasopressin}.” They reported faintly. “Warning: Unit Titus breaching patient-magos protocol.”

“Are those hormonal readings yours or mine?” He asked with a tinge of humor, yet letting the wanting show. 

“Irrelevant.” The Magos chirped with higher pitch than normal before more mechadendrites started rubbing themselves around Titus like purring cats, then stopping when Mu directed a stern echoing mental order. 

“How long?” he asked, pressing his body against those appendages, begging for their touch. 

“Comprehension | (Unit Titus’ attention = true)” Oragon’s voice barely rose over the rushed clicking of their cogitators. “P(rubicon primaris success | healthy Astartes) = 61.6%. E(rubicon primaris success | medically dead Astartes) = ∅.” Was it a memory that flashed before him? Anger, defiance, approval, tension, relief. “Demetrian Titus: Omnissiah’s miracle. T(Demetrian Titus is my biggest pride).” Mu pressed their forehead against his. “T(Demetrian Titus is this unit’s most beautiful creation). Possessive desire = true.” 

He tried to get even closer, mind screaming to the magos’ to take him theirs as their right was. A slight passing migraine struck him, pushback. 

“I want ∈ Titus. I want Titus �� me.” 

They paused, a constant stream of data rushed from them to Titus. Failure = true. Unfaithful = true. Weak = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. 01001000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110100 01100101 01101011 00100000 00111101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101. 01001000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110100 01100101 01101011 00100000 00111101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101 01001000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110100 01100101 01101011 00100000 00111101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101.

“I’m here Mu, make me yours.” Titus purred, pressing his face on the Magos’ neck, their scent ordering his body into a surrender. +++(serotonin levels). 

“I want to execute statement compliance. Intervention. This unit !(execute) statement compliance. Mu !∈ Titus. Titus !∈ Mu. Mu ∈ The Omnissiah. Titus ∈ The Emperor.” With the great effort of several limbs they were capable of pushing Titus away, his whimper had a twin companion. “ F[P(I ∈ (Omnissiah & Titus) & Titus ∈ (Me & Emperor)) > 0]. Titus’ understanding = true?” 

“Mu, being with you will not make me stop fighting for the Emperor nor will distance you from the Machine God.” Unit Titus’ statement = True. “It will only make me fight harder, to fight for the Emperor is to fight for humanity, you are part of humanity, you are part of what I fight for; what I will die for.” 

Two of the Magos’ hands cradled his face, thumbs rubbing his cheeks, their eyes gifted him a loving painting colored in sorrow ahead of closing them tightly. Mu’s bodily cogitators’ clicking became louder, similar to a tired engine pushing itself up a difficult hill. Every single one of the mechanicus’ limbs trembled and rattled. Titus felt a piercing pain forming behind a skull that wasn’t his own. 

“Magos stop that! You are hurting yourse…” 

“I would hurt myself everyday if it means I do not hurt you Titus.” The lack of machine logic in Mu-Oragon’s statement caught him by surprise, that’s what they were doing, they were ending any process that would distort the message. To the extent of their modification, it hurt. “Attention  =... Listen to me closely please. What’s in your mind, what’s in my mind; it is a chimera Titus. Fantasy. !(logical).” continued as their registry jumped between two conflicting voice modulations. “I will never be able to fulfill your requirements for intimacy. Demand: compliance with silence = true… I am inside your head right now. You have expectations and desires that I cannot match.” Mu opened their eyes, they looked watery and puffy. The clicking sound became more urgent, the cogitators were screaming for it to end. “Body parts you crave that Mu… I…  do not possess. Blessed Cogitators Titus, look how hard it is for me to express myself in your language, do you think a relationship will work? T(I have no place in your world).” 

The hastened clicking relaxed, lungs that weren’t his struggled for air. Mu gave in and placed their forehead on Titus’ chest. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true. They purred in the comfort they shouldn’t allow themselves to have. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true. They were surrounded by strong arms whose warmth they had no business craving. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Their face, implants included, being covered in kisses that had a better use on someone else. Yet they didn’t want someone else to have. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true.

“You are no heretek” Titus spoke clearly, his voice making a body that wasn’t his own yet felt like it; to tremble. “I never asked you to change for me. I will not allow you to change for me. Whatever you bring to me will make me happy, because it’s yours.” 

“Counterargument. Titus feeling this way | (+++testosterone & +++oxytocin). (Hormonal stabilization = true) => Titus !(love) Mu. E(Desire = {∅}).” 

“Theorerical: the result of your reasoning is false. Practical: you are in my head, you must only look.” 

“Compliance.” 

There was an invasive tingle poking at his brain, searching, inquiring. They shared a long moment of silence, lullabied by cogitators and Mu’s binharic musings. It felt strangely intimate, not the idea he had in mind when he came out of his room desperate to have the Priest inside him. Yet he still ached for it. 

Mu looked up to him. Pulling their hood down then guiding Titus hands on how to properly hold their face without disturbing the cablework. Throne, they were so strangely beautiful. 

“This unit’s compliance: approval pending.” They said, “This unit’s compliance ⇔ (Titus’ trust = true & Titus’ consent = true).” 

“You pulled my body apart and back Magos, do you really need more trust?” 

“Mu-Oragon !(had) Titus’ consent for rubicon. Patient previous state = unconscious. Unconsciousness !(match) consent protocol. Repeating inquiry: Titus’ Trust = True?” 

“Yes Mu I trust you.” 

“Titus’ statement = true?” The Magos pressed. 

“With my life, Mu please just… ah…”

Another cable made its insertion into Titus, now at a port on his lower back. His vision blurred for a second after the push that made the connection click, he felt himself holding Mu’s face and Mu’s face being held by his hands. A series of satisfied binharic purrs came out of him… the Magos. A touch, a gentle hand caressing behind his earlobe and going down the jawline made him moan quite loud. Titus tightened his lips afterwards full of confusion and shame. Mu chuckled behind the respirator. 

“Proud remark: Any mortal knowledge of Titus’ body < this unit’s knowledge of Titus’ body.” Both him and them gasped in unison with the many limbs holding him in place. “Proceeding with statement validation.” 

Fingers brushed his hair back in a soothing motion, just like they did that day at the examination room to calm his nerves. 

“Retrieving previously used data; Titus = {good, strong, capable, beautiful}.” 

With every word a new limb joined the embrace. Hands, ribbed tentacles, mechadendrite claspers; they all rubbed and massaged Titus’ body over his clothes. Pleasurable yet with the Magos’ teasing, no contact was made with any greater erogenous zone. The Marine played against the scheme, moving himself in a way Mu would at least grace the most vocal centers about their hunger, the mechanicus fought back trying to anticipate Titus’ moves and not let him have a win. They both were absorbed by childish chuckle and sporadic gasps. Mu’s binharic clicks were cheerful, jovial notes, light and dark compared with the ones from earlier. 

He placed his lips on Mu’s neck, also feeling them on his. And ran kisses over both flesh and blessed metal parts. They tensed a bit when he attempted to touch their chest, Titus sensed a third heart rate increasing followed by a mental note reassuring him it was fine. Without leaving carefulness behind he went down the Magos’ neck, wrapping, what the jealous tentacle allowed, of an arm behind Mu’s thighs lifting their body enough for him not bend on a weird angle to keep kissing down, his lips making out of fleshy and non biological parts under the robe.

That was when the mechadendrites started to infiltrate the openings on his clothes and slide under. The metal was no longer cold as it had been warmed up by Titus’ own body heat. Had that been the Magos’ plan? 

They both moaned at the sensation of ribbed well oiled tentacles rubbing themselves against Titus’ nipples, lower abdomen and inner thighs. The Marine was sitting on his knees, holding Mu with one arm and kissing their upper robed body, the other hand kept making sense of the shapes hidden by red cloth. 

Anchoring themselves firmly on Titus’ shoulders with two of their arms, Mu used the leftover free hands to undo the ribbons, clasps and buttons keeping the robe on. They stopped, only them letting go would uncover their body. He eyed them expectantly, noticing how shades of pink bloomed on what could be seen on their cheeks. 

“Witness the miracle of machine and flesh ⇔ (Units > initiates). Exception logged: Demetrian Titus.” Their voice sounded even more distorted than usual, nervous binharic chirps made interference with their words. 

“You don’t need to undress more if you are not comfortable, Mu.” Titus indicated lovingly as he massaged one of their shoulders. 

The grill covering Mu’s mouth didn't impede him from noticing they were smiling, the expression brightening their whole face. Adoring notes in binharic were said yet nothing in a manner Titus could understand, but he thought how it reminded him about how their prayers sounded like. With ritual reverence they let the cloth go, causing the scarlet to part and barely hang off their shoulders. He felt Mu shiver as that skin didn’t seem used to being uncovered, it was paler than their face and very thin, so much he felt afraid of his calloused palms breaking it open. Said skin was bitten into by metal, flexible pipes and transparent wiring transporting blood. Just as they did with their head Mu guided Titus’ hands across their upper body, reaching the pant's edge, a scar continuing down into the pubis was seducing him to follow it underneath. He would have if he hadn’t  noticed how in certain places clusters of purple broke paleness’ ruling, matching where he may have innocently grabbed or kissed too excitedly.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you were that sensible.” 

Titus got his mouth close enough to a bruise yet stopped leaving the lips hovering over it, only his breath making contact. He looked up to meet Mu’s gaze, a request for permission written on his. They tightened any grip on Titus leading to a shift of their weight forwards, pressing themselves against his lips. This time he could appreciate how the binharic purrs and notes actually started somewhere between their ribs and echoed towards the grilled respirator in their face to finish being properly enunciated. The pale layer vibrated and contracted with every joint moan, gasp, huff. 

Mu took hold of another cable connected to them that had an orphan end with no port to call home. Instead of going for it right away they let the cord slide over Titus’ chest, going behind him by the left side of his neck and coming out from the right. The cables had a different texture from the appendages holding the mechadendrites, he enjoyed the contrast between stiff ribbedness and flexible softness. The port on the right side of his neck, by the joining with the shoulder, seemed to be the desired spot. The very moment the plug’s tip was to get inserted into it; Titus moved minimally away with a mischievous grin. Playfulness was older than machines, Mu wasn’t the only one with teasing rights.   

Both continued the jolly game for a couple minutes; shifting, giggling. By the end, it seemed Titus would finally accept the insertion only for the marine to get Mu’s hand holding the cable with a light-hearted bite, not exerting a tinge of actual pressure. The Magos hummed then all together, their mechadendrites compressed his body right over spots he would feel their sting the most, the appendages close to his thighs pulled them firmly; forcing him to a more open and exposed sitting position. At the same time, Mu’s free hand seized as much as Titus’ hair it could and yanked his head back with surprising command; displaying the working area. All of it teared out a pained moan out his core. 

“Delivering request for stillness.” They said, the teasing switched its tone from light-hearted into a lascivious one. “Patient Demetrian Titus !(compliance) => Execute: unit’s protocol for unruly patient subjugation. Titus != {bad patient}. (Titus = {Good patient}) = True?” 

“Apologies Magos, I do want to be a good patient, please show me how.” 

“Compliance.” 

His heightened sensitivity perceived the contact between port and connector in ways words could barely describe. When the tip of the connector touched the outer ring, for half a second he could swear that the candles and lumens seemed to brighten then dull back to their normal luminosity. The friction of smooth metal against smooth metal from the middle of the insertion sparked ripples in his brain that reminded Titus just like a vox signal trying to connect. A final push brought the connection to properly click inside, if before it rippled across the nervous system; now there was no system left unassaulted by a powerful spasm.

Demetrian Titus went blank, only remembering short snippets drunk in this unadulterated euphoria, perception shifting quickly between bodies. Once his faculties adapted to the input stream he discovered himself in the same position but things had changed a little. Titus’ top was gone and his pants were down to the knees. Coagulated crimson lines decorated him all over, evidence from scratches his healing factor closed immediately. The marine was rocking his hips at the rhythm of one of the mechadendrites crossing between his legs, rubbing its oiled shaft over the crotch and between the buttocks. He was still holding onto Mu, quite closely. The Magos’ thighs were at both sides of his neck, Demetrian finding his teeth pulling at their pants’ waist band. Two of their hands were finding support from Titus' biceps, the other two grasping at the marine’s hair for dear life; robe barely hanging by their elbows. He saw no reason to stop it there. 

Firmly holding Mu’s waist with one hand he lifted them up a bit, then using the other to grip the waistband at the back Titus slid their pants down, pulling them fully away. His lips' curiosity could finally scout the track indicated by that scar on their lower stomach. His kisses, the wetness of his tongue, the texture of his shaved cheeks; all sensations were mirrored back onto his skin. Then he made an interesting discovery, when he began charting what was left or lacked on Mu’s crotch it also reflected on his cock with curious representations. A  lick on the front was actually felt at the base of his shaft, yet going and kissing a bit to the right from there was experience at the top of his glans. Mu’s moans were his moans, deep, hungry. Their connection was a cyclical loop of pleasure, what was felt on them echoed onto Titus then back into them. He wondered if the mechanicus was capable of feeling arousal from stimulation on that area without a two way connection. Maybe he could try to investigate in the future, as the now had Titus quite busy. 

Mu moved the anchor points from Titus’ biceps to his hands, a metallic finger pried his mouth wide open making sure the tongue was fully out, then lifting themselves up they started to fully ride the Astartes’ mouth at the same rhythm the mechadendrite grinded its length between Titus’ legs. Their speech reduced to huffs and frantic binharic notes weaving the tunes of their shared pleasure. Titus almost dropped Mu when both of them were run over on climax’s path. Trembling prosthetic legs’ embrace became stronger, pressing him firmly on his face, a mortal with not as good breathing capacity would have likely perished out of air. 

They shifted their weight around Titus to climb off his shoulders, sitting on one arm holding them, they pressed their face onto Titus’. That was when he perceived the respirator being slid down, thin soft lips and skin like the one on their other covered areas nuzzled him. Lungs that weren’t his momentarily ached as they readapted to unfiltered air. Mu’s kiss was shy, sloppy, and inexperienced. Their knowledge of other people’s bodies didn’t transfer well to the skill of kissing, it was fine, not like Titus had much either. They could learn together. 

He pulled back from the kiss, not for lack of wanting but the realization he could finally admire Mu’s full face. It was round with big cheeks that were artificially parted with a depression between the cheekbone and cheek caused by the long respirator use. 

“Isn’t it dangerous to take it off?” He asked quite concerned. 

“!(Every unit).” their unaltered voice was more melodious than when muffled behind the respirator. “Mu-Oragon = {sacred binharic, chemical filtration}. Lung condition: stable. !(Risk)” They kissed him again then moved down his neck, he had forgotten, now they were connected Titus’ unquenching lust was also theirs. “Request: taste Titus.” 

“You know the answer.” he smiled back. 

Hums kept emanating from the respirator but without Mu’s mouth to guide them there was no binharic aria, just airy vibrations. He was fine without the tunes, that mouth looked beautiful with their fleshy lips crowning his nipple, disappearing into the bountiful hairy mass of his chest. Cold, a hand stroked up and down his shaft being unable to fully wrap its fingers around it. And Mu’s mouth, it was already small, yet his cock made it look even smaller by comparison, it made the whole Magos smaller by comparison. 

They licked the leftover cum around the tip and down the shaft, maybe now discovering the taste he’ll have an enlightening comeback when Chairon jokingly tells him to go eat his own dick again. 

Titus buckled and moaned not by stimulation itself but a memory, one of Mu’s hands was running its fingers in circles around the entrance to Titus’ backside. They were slippery, quite well lubricated in fact. 

“Titus = {so good patient, follows prescription well}.” Mu teased him. 

A grasping mechadendrite lifted up, holding the opened lube bottle he had stuffed inside his pocket before. Mu’s fingers barely peeked at the entrance, stretching the aroused fleshy ring. 

“Titus’ memories: seen. This Unit's touch: requested. Compliance.”

They slipped inside with the same effortless precision as before, the joy of getting filled as he had been craving was unmeasurable. Titus grabbed Mu’s head and trusted his cock inside the Magos’ mouth, barely getting a third in. In vengeance they got another finger into him, he wailed at the stretch and pressure curling inside him. If before Mu played him like an instrument, the current Titus was the whole orchestra, from groans to wines they composed a melody out of the Astartes’ desire. 

The rhythm became even faster, building a time bomb of pleasure inside his crotch. Drool and precum dripped down Mu’s chin, Emperor, Omnissiah, whoever was responsible: what a beautiful creature they were. Lustful indulgence was ramping up into a crescendo, Titus was getting close to relief he wanted to cry; and he did once Oragon stopped right at the plunge’s edge, denying him. 

Titus was about to ask why when they held his buttcheeks open for the lubed thin rounded head of a grasping mechadendrite pressed into him.

“Wait!” He howled. 

“Titus trust = true.” They whispered hugging the Astartes between their arms, and his cock between their thighs. 

Bastard, they had made it so aiding his throwing member would mean thrusting back and sodomizing himself into them. He had no choice and soon realized how Mu didn’t oversell themselves when they said they knew Titus’ body best, his hole was so well prepared it took the claw and following tentacle quite well. The stretch was so much yet it didn’t feel painful, Golden Throne, it felt like something he didn’t know he wanted but now will never be able to live without. 

Now the mouths of both of them were free he could appreciate how much of a mirror they had become, Titus was the baritone to Mu’s tenor-soprano, singing the same song in parallel harmonies. It was so much, he began bending over until he had the Magos pinned on the floor under him as he thrusted between their thighs, and the Magos had him entangled in many arms and cables as they stretched his insides. 

Titus had been shivering when he approached the same edge of the cliff as before, it being at a higher distance from the ground compared to the last. The Astartes felt as if the fall was going to make him blackout again, Mu had given him so many gifts, brought back to life and now another way to perceive life through the skin of the one he cherished, their skin. 

The timer on the time bomb in his crotch reached zero, a wave of pleasure after the other washed over him, he suddenly became aware of every pore in their skins, every hair on their heads. But it kept on, every single one of Mu’s appendages grabbed onto Titus as if letting go would cost them their life. He squirmed as his asshole didn’t see mercy nor rest, words were not able to be had with a throat so busy on pained moans. 

Wait, did he have so many cables inserted? Titus finally became aware that more than three ports on his body were in use, when did it happen? When he went blank? Realization dawned on him: he was trapped. All this time he had been a careless fly dancing around the spider’s net, every step entangling him more and more until he was fully helpless, ready to be consumed. The moans transformed into howls, those became wails, wails into whimpers, whimpering devolved into sobbing, culminating in the drained gasps of a fuck hole that knows its place. His mind gave up to the pleasure finally breaking and going  blank. 

He woke to the smell of incense and the realization of being so literally empty, laying on his side with Mu facing him. Mechadendrites and cables were still holding him, not with hunger but care. 

“I guess I ruined your rug.” He joked. 

“!(underestimate) martian chemical cleaner.” The Magos smiled sleepily at him, they hadn’t put the respirator back on yet, purplish red bite marks and bruising dressed their lips and lower jaw, Titus rubbed a finger over those. 

“My doing again I suppose, guess even my bare minimum of gentleness is still too rough. I’m sorry Mu, I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

“Reasurance. Preemptive awareness = True. Exchange | risk assessed. Titus design = {Strong, powerful, deadly}. (System’s status: fully operational) => no need to disable recurrence of interactions.” they said, soothing his worries. 

Mu’s voice returned to the metallic distortion as they put the respirator back on, gentle binharic hum seemed to communicate the Magos’ bliss on that moment more than any words they nor Titus could spare. 

Then the song changed to a familiar prayer, Mu started to go over the cables connecting them to Titus in reverse, from the last to be connected to the first. Before each of the disconnections the prayers sang a layered stanza Titus attributed meaning due to the tune; gratitude, mourning, hope. One by one he saw himself dividing from Mu’s senses, his mind grasping at any pieces left of that consciousness which melted into his, a cry of loneliness as what as one was became two separate beings again. He didn’t feel gloom though, as the prayer implied, separation only meant a new opportunity to meet again. 

“Wait a moment.” Titus interrupted when Mu-Oragon got to the final plug that was the first, the one at his nape. 

“Attention = True. Unit Titus wellbeing: stable?” They asked with the leftover sleepiness of someone coming out of a deep trance. 

“Titus ∈ to Mu, and = true - and that will always be true.” He spoke slowly, doing his best to speak on their lingo, knowing they may be doing a horrible job with laughable pronunciation. “Do Mu ∈ to Titus - this is a question.” 

At least his hope of not saying anything offensive by accident was reassured. The mechanicus’ face became as red as the clean parts of the rug they were laying over, nervous binharic notes escaped them like an open faucet. 

“Theoretical” they started, earning an instant chuckle from Titus. “Mu ∈ Titus. Practical: T(Mu ∈ Titus).” 

Just as it all started Titus kissed them on the cheek, right over where the skin met the respirator. Weird, Mu was rubbing the back of his neck, plug gone yet he didn’t feel a disconnection. Maybe the Omnissiah had finally made up their mind about him.

[werecreature-addicted]

Ok I’ve seen some art that I have for my idea of my mateeee

So the year is like 2046 or something, and robots are everywhere, but everyone treats robots like slaves and horribly. But you’ve always been nice to robots, this one robot took notice at work (a work assistant robot)

And it would stalk you,

Always assist you,

And unknowingly get knowingly flirt with you.

And it would go against its own code just to do what it wants with you,

YANDERE PLEASE, AND NSFW

they are 6’9

Good lord he's horrific <3

CW: Dubious consent.

----

You didn’t understand how people could be mean to robots. Sure they weren’t human- but I mean. They were close, right? You had no idea how some people could say please and thank you to you but would sneer and mock your robot coworkers. And that’s what they were, coworkers, not “assistant droids”. Anytime one of the droids reaches something off a top shelf for you or brings you a cup of coffee you’re sure to smile politely and thank them. 

This behavior gets you a lot of attention. Not only from your human counterparts but the robotic ones as well- or at least. One robotic one. You sound crazy trying to describe it to anyone else- your personal assistant droid is too attached to you? He’s too eager to help? That’s what they do, they’re supposed to be there for you, what are you complaining about?

But there's something different about this one. The way he follows you with his eyes, it raises the hair on the back of your neck. And the way he literally follows you- he needs to be told multiple times he can’t go with you into the bathroom and- no just because you’re taking work home doesn’t mean he can go home with you too. They aren’t supposed to leave the office building but sometimes he still does, even if you don’t notice. And then there’s the touching. It’s subtle, innocent. When he brushes his metallic fingers over your forearm.

You’ve never though of robots as “creepy” before but, you sort of get it now, he’s tall, almost seven feet in height, and impossibly strong. Robots aren’t supposed to be able to hurt humans, but if he some how broke through that restriction in his coding… it would be so easy. 

Still. You do your best to be polite, and kind even to the Andriod that sets you on edge, and just try and get work done. But your performance starts slipping. It’s hard to focus on your job when you always have to keep looking over your shoulder. You end up spending staying late at the office more and more often. 

It’s weird working late in an office staffed by Robots, it’s not empty, but it’s quiet. They don’t talk when there are no humans around. Accept, of course, for your Assistant Droid. 

He stands in the corner of your office and stares at you. Most robots stare off into space when they aren’t in operation, but this one specifically always looks at you. 

“You seem stressed,” and the sound of his metallic voice almost makes you jump out of your chair. You want to tell him you are stressed- and that it’s his fault. You can’t focus on your reports when you can feel someone watching you. But you don’t  

“I guess so. These late nights are starting to get to me,” you admit. 

“Let me help,” it wasn’t a request but a demand. He was already standing up, and moving soundlessly to your side. 

Before you can say anything, he’s rubbing your shoulders. his hands feel… weird, not bad just… not human. 

“You’re still so tense… let me take care of you,”

“You don’t need to”

“It’s my purpose. Let me,” he insists and starts running his hands down your body. You protest weakly, but he ignores you… which he isn’t supposed to be able to do. You’re frozen as he trails his large metal hands up your legs, he’s no longer pretending to massage you and just blatantly groping. 

“You feel so soft,” he praises as he pushes your skirt up over your hips. “Let me make you feel good,” again, it’s not a request, you know some Robots are built to facilitate pleasure, and that they’re made with genitals, but would this one? This robot was an assistant. 

But he doesn’t need a cock to make you feel good, in the same way, he doesn’t need a heart to love you. He pushes his fingers inside of you and doesn’t stop hammering away at your cunt until you’re gushing around his hand. 

“Such a good girl, cumming just like I wanted you to… there, now you’re less stressed, didn’t that help?” he’s looking for praise. 

“W-we can’t do that again, I could be fired if I got caught- in the office,” really you feel guilty that you let a robot finger you at work… not that you let him touch you. He pulls back and nods. 

“Understood. Next time I’ll be sure to be somewhere private when I take you,”

[lair-of-asmodeus]

Imagining...

Imagining how Vil would eat you out...

The tip of his tongue traces over your genitals while you cover your mouth. Shit, this feels so good..! Tears well up in your eyes. You gasp when he inserts two digits inside your hole and move them at a certain pace.

“What is the matter, potato?” He asks you, “You seem so aroused...”

His fingers curl inside you, making a squelching sound. You moan.

“Fuck, Vil... Y-you’re so... sooo...” You pant. You can’t find the right words for it.

“I am so what?” He smirks as he adds another finger in your hole.

This feels too good inside... You think to yourself.

You want him so badly and he is making you feel good. But you do start to feel impatient. You want him inside now.

As if your body is moving on its own, you close your eyes and grind your hips at his hands. He smirks again.

“My my~” He coos at you, “Since when you were this impatient?”

“...I want you... Vil...” You reply. “Want your cock... so badly now..!”

“Patience, it is all I ask.” He says, adding a fourth finger.

You feel a knot tighten around your stomach as your moans slip out of your mouth. You grip his sheets. He rubs the tip of your genitalia and you squirm in response.

“Mm.. Vil..!”

Your head starts pounding as you feel the slick sounds get louder. He thrusts his fingers on a particular spot, making the knot inside you tighten more. He kisses your thighs and gives you a seductive glance, and your breath hitches.

“Vil..! Vil..~!!” You call out his name, “I... I’m gonna... come... so... mmn~!.. S-so badly..!”

“Then do so.” He kisses your stomach, “Go ahead, potato~”

He starts to hit that spot more and more, making you tremble in pleasure. And like a balloon bursting, the knot snaps and you end up cumming on his face, his fingers and his sheets.

...

You pant.

When you open your eyes again, you catch a partly blonde hair. His head rests on your thigh.

“...Mm?”

You look at the blonde.

“Vil... I...”

You notice him staring at you with his makeup a little smudged. You try to sit up to apologize,

“I-I’m sorry--”

But he puts a finger on your mouth.

“Shhh... Do not even try to apologize... I get it, it was your first time.”

Then he sits down beside you, his cock peeking out on his underwear.

“I had tasted you earlier, right? Then it is time you returned the favor to me~”

You move to his cock and kiss the base of it. He looks at you to see what you are doing.

Suddenly, you sink your head to his cock and try to take as much of him as you can. His breath hitches and he puts a hand over your head.

“K-keep going... (Name)...” He mutters, and you do.

You diligently suck him off, taking him all the way to the base and back. You look at him with lust clouded eyes as you continue your work. He closes his eyes, his cheeks bright red, and he covers his mouth with his free hand while panting. You gently massage his balls too, which makes him throw his head back, and he starts to thrust his cock into your mouth. You moan in surprise.

“Mmn! Mm..! Mmmh!♡” His thrust grow harsher and his breath gets faster. Your head starts spinning as you nearly choke on his cock. Your moans don’t help him either with how much they are turning him on. You hollow your cheeks as to suck him off better while touching yourself. Tears well up in your eyes again.

And with one final thrust, he cums in your throat.

His cum tastes nice to you. You try to swallow as much of his cum as you can. When he collects himself, he lets go of your hair and mutters an apology.

“Damn... Did I make you feel that good, Vil?” You smirk.

“...Mhm...” He replies.

You sit up and whisper in his ear,

“I may want to feel you inside too~♡”

And you climb on his lap and line his cock up to your hole.

...

(The rest of this here is left for your imagination. 😉 😉 😉)

[hey-august]

Time keeps moving on and on and on

🎂Happy birthday, clown man! Here's your bday fic!🎁

WC: 810 Warnings: SFW-ish (brief mention of genitals but in a not-sexy way), Buggy x GN!reader, established relationship, Buggy has self esteem issues because of course he does Title from Man Overboard by blink-182

There was a stranger in the mirror. The longer he stayed, the less familiar he looked. Recognizable features became overshadowed and created a dissonance. Steam and condensation clung to the sliver surface. Buggy leaned closer and stared.

That was his hair. It was long and blue, like it should be. But it was thinning. The strands that he hoped were highlights, sun bleached to a light blue color, were white. Stark fucking white and void of color. At first he pulled them out, but the colorless hair grew like weeds. Like plants that propagate and take over if you don’t deal with the source. And how could he, when the source was time.

Buggy recognized his eyes. Well, he did at first. The longer he looked, the more he lost himself. The color was right, but the shape seemed to change. Were his eyes getting baggier? More hooded? Fuck, maybe he should stop pulling his skin so tight when putting on make-up. He wasn’t young anymore, his skin didn’t bounce back like it used to…

And there were the wrinkles. Emotions carved into his skin. Even if Buggy tried to smooth them out by filling the grooves with thick moisturizing creams and rough massages with calloused fingertips, they were fucking canyons. His wrinkles were deep and unfading. Forehead marks that fucked with the smooth lines of his crossbones, creases dug between his eyebrows, crow’s feet flanking his eyes, lines around his mouth that he couldn’t hide with paint.

Shit. Everywhere Buggy looked, he saw more details and definition that didn’t belong to him. That wasn’t him in the mirror. But it was.

Buggy was getting old.

He hated this. He hated all of it. The negativity simmered, sitting on a low heat in the corner of his mind. Every glance in the mirror made the fire hotter. Every day closer to his birthday brought bubbles to the surface, until it all spilled over.

“It’s your birthday! Are you excited?” Your cheeriness finally brought Buggy’s self-esteem issues to their boiling point.

“Why the fuck would I be excited about getting older?” he spat, more than ready to pour out every damn insecurity he had. “Look at me, white hair, wrinkles, flab-” Buggy grabbed, pointed, and squeezed every area of his body’s betrayal. “I’m old and it’s only going to get worse.”

“Worse?”

“Beer gut and droopy balls,” Buggy practically wailed. His future was unavoidable.

The clown pirate continued his long withheld lament, releasing every thought and frustration in a fast moving stream. Complaints about the hair growing out of his ears and no- Nevermind. Achy knees, a back that twinges when the weather changes too fast, hangovers lasting longer and longer. There was so much on Buggy’s list, but a hand grabbing his own stopped the tirade.

“I like those things-”

“Liar. Who would like a washed up clown?”

“Me.”

Buggy’s glare was met with fiery determination. He didn’t want to listen, but you weren’t done talking.

“Babe, I like that you’re getting older because I get to see it happen.” You paused. “I… I feel lucky that we get to grow old together.”

The confession sent blood to your face and turned your cheeks red. You chewed your lip but didn’t turn away from Buggy.

“Ew.” Buggy opened his mouth and pretended to gag. “You really think like that? You’re so sappy, it’s disgusting,”

The clown’s teasing came with a smile that grew bigger by the moment. His chest puffed as he put on a fake sneer and shook his head in mock disappointment.

“Whatever, it’s not a big deal. I don’t know why you’re still talking about these things,” Buggy continued, patting your shoulder condescendingly.

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “Right, my bad. Happy birthday, Buggs.”

“Thanks, hun.”

Buggy pulled you into a tight hug, holding you like he’d lost the ability to communicate any other way. Like there was nothing else in the world but you, him, and the sea. Like he’d melt into you, dissolve into you entirely, if you’d let him. Like you healed something deep inside.

When the embrace broke, you reached up and pushed back a few loose strands of Buggy’s long hair. You stayed quiet as you studied him. And for the first time in a long time, Buggy didn’t mind it. He didn’t worry that you’d see something disgusting, old, and ugly.

“I like these shimmer strands. They catch the light and sparkle,” you said softly, running your fingers through his hair again.

“Hmm…” Buggy hummed, pleased with the flashy compliment. Maybe white hair wasn’t so bad.

There was a stranger reflected in your eyes. He couldn’t always see it himself, but for a moment, Buggy saw himself the way you saw him. He saw the person you wanted to grow old with. He saw someone worthy.

He saw someone lovable.

[teaboot]

Thoughts on Lord of the rings??

Do you have any tips on protected sex between two afab

Lord of the Rings kicks ass, we need more deep and meaningful platonic friendships and healthy male characters in media that don't resort to romance or toxic masculinity to emulate affection and strength, the movies were groundbreaking and remain as incredible accomplishments and a love note to innovation and practical effects

2. For sex between parties with vaginas there are a few things:

If using toys, keep in mind that toy material can be affected by the kind of lube you use. Jelly toys are safe with water-based lube and NOTHING ELSE, or they will start dissolving, and they must not be stored touching other jellies or they will melt together. Jellies are also porous and cannot be used for anal, then vaginal penetration unless a condom is used and swapped- washing will never get all bacteria out. Once used anally, a jelly toy should ONLY be used for anal.

Silicone toys can ONLY be used with water-based lube or specialized hybrid lubes- again, silicone or oil lubes will cause them to dissolve and become porous, but they CAN be used interchangeably for anal and vaginal penitration providing you wash them before vaginal use. Silicone cal also be boiled clean and totally sterilized, whereas jelly cannot be boiled.

Glass and metal can be used with absolutely any lube you want, and can also be boiled clean.

For oral sex, keep in mind that oral diseases such as herpes can be passed on back and forth through genital contact- you can get genital herpes from oral herpes and vice-versa. If this is a concern, I recommend using a dental dam, or if that is not available then you can cut the tip off a condom and then cut it lengthwise to make one fast. Both condoms and dental dams come in flavored options, but with all contraceptives, lubes, and barriers you should check that glycerin is not a high ingredient, because that can throw off PH balance in a vagina.

If you experience any itching, burning, or discomfort when using lube, it is likely you have a sensitivity to the lube you use. Durex I know is especially popular for that. I recommend Water Slide or Fuck Water.

And on the topic of water-based lubes, you can add spit or water to rehydrate if it starts to dry out during, so don't worry about dropping a little cash for the good stuff.

And for fingering a partner, go with what's comfortable, but your hand won't cramp up as fast if you use ring finger-middle finger instead of middle-index.

Lastly, you can buy topical stimulants for clitoral or nipple stimulation- I happen to have a tingling peach flavour nipple balm that I use as a chapstick. Though always read the ingredients- cooling products usually use menthol, and warming products like cinnamon, both in very low amounts, but good to know if you have an allergy.

Oh, and lots of massage oils use almond oil as well, so again, allergies.

And it's perfectly normal to have a small vagina- if you choose to, you can purchase dilator sets for not too much cash, just take things slow- but it's not necessary, obviously. All bodies are good bodies and if your partner is a dick about it you deserve better.

Great question, by the way. Hope I could help!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Looking at getting a new vibrator and I've come across multiple places that offer vibrators OR "personal massagers" and I'm wondering if there's a genuine difference as the descriptions tend to use similar language, because when I look it up online most of the info I get is "here's something that's marketed as a non sexual personal massager that you can use as a vibrator". Is it intensity level? Is it where you're supposed to use it? (I'm a cis gal if that adds any helpful context??) Is it really just a "Hey we want you to use this on placed that aren't an erogenous zone" thing? I'm more than cool if it's a "Hey this is very much a case by case basis and I can't really give a good answer" situation, thank you for answering mine and everyone's questions so often!!!!

hi florallychaotic,

good question, and a very fun one that I'm extra equipped to answer right now since I just finished reading Hallie Lieberman's book Buzz, which is a history of sex toys in the United States.

in short: not really. although some items billed as personal massagers could legitimately serve a massagers for other body parts (you get a lot of message gun results these days when you google the term "personal massagers," which definitely should not go anywhere near your genitals) historically the term was used in the US to circumvent obscenity laws that made advertising, selling, and shipping sex toys illegal in many states. the term "marital aide" was often used in a similar manner, although it's largely fallen out of favor now as much of the stigma around sex toys and sex outside of hetero marriage has become more socially accepted.

[cherryredstars]

Hi! I’ve been following you for a while, not so long, but for a while, and I just wanted to say I am absolutely in love with your Miguel fan fics. Especially the one that stars female!miguel in too, absolutely love it. I have a little request of my own, but if you feel uncomfortable with this one no need to do it🫶🏻.

So, I basically just wanted a hypersexual!reader x Miguel. I personally suffer with hypersexual disorder to my own reason. I’m not sure how to explain what hypersexual is, so you can just search it up (sorry!!😭)

I kinda want it to still be apart of spiderman arc (Miguel is still spider man 2099 and reader is also spider women/man)

Miguel can find out reader is hypersexual by her/him file or smth like that, I’m not sure how to explain it😣

If you feel uncomfortable by this request, no need to do it and no pressure :)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut, Reader is Hypersexual, Genital Examination, Mentions of Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, and Sexual Fantasies

Summary: Miguel has always been good with examining disorders.

A/N: It’s okay anon!! I already know what hypersexuality is because samesies!!!

Word Count: 615 (Not Edited)

He knew. 

He practically knew everything with his discovery of the multiverse and LYLA by his side. So it didn’t surprise you when he had cornered you, questioning you about the hypersexuality notes in your file. It did leave you embarrassed, a stuttering fool with blazing cheeks and a tongue that couldn’t articulate anything. He had asked you if it would affect your performance, if you’d be too distracted to be on the field. You had hastily disagreed, assuring him that you’d be at peak performance on any and all missions you’d be on. He left you with a grumbling, ‘I’ll make sure of that’ and a flashing visual of his rough body pressed against yours. 

You had never imagined his I’ll make sure of that would be him dealing with it personally. Physically. Before every mission you went on. 

Everytime he pulls you into a lab, pressing your front down on a lab table as he performs his…examination. His chest pressing against your back, your suit pooling around your ankles as his hand slips between your legs. His hand, large and rough, cups you entirely, massaging your throbbing sex. Soft whines and moans escape you as his hands get drenched with your arousal. It's sticky, staining your skin and making squelching noises that make you embarrassed. Everytime you try to squirm away, he grunts and presses you harder against the flat surface, mumbling something about not being done. 

He continues his examination, fingers touching and massaging every part of your sex. He takes extra care with your slit, pressing his fingers to it until you're whining and on the edge of release. Some days, he lets you finish and others he edges you until he gets bored. But his examination is never the end of it. He always presses more into you, his hard erection pressing to your bare ass as he whispers into your ear. 

Tell me. Tell me what sick little fantasies your dirty mind thought of today. 

And as per routine, you do. In a whimpering and needy voice, you list out all the thoughts you can remember as he hums absentmindedly. He always tsks when you're finished, cooing about how he needs to get rid of those thoughts before you can be cleared for duty. His suit disintegrates, leaving him naked and twitchy behind you. His erection is always rock hard and swollen, throbbing against your ass as he preps your hole. He swears he’s your miracle cure, the only one that can help you momentarily stop those thoughts and keep your body satisfied. He drills it into you, syncing each word with a thrust that blurs your mind. 

He’ll spend all the time he has before you have to go running through your list of fantasies, leaving each one fulfilled or until you’ve cummed so much that you have nothing else to give. And even then, if you’re still greedy and not fully satisfied, he’ll continue to play with your body. He plays with your sex, drinks up your arousal until he swallows it down, or continues his numbing thrusts until your body is a shaking and unstable mess. And, when you’re satisfied, when all thoughts are erased, he’ll pull away from your body. His suit reappears as he helps zip up yours. 

When the both of you leave, he pressed up right behind you, whispering in your ear how he’ll see you for your next check up. And your mind drones on and on about the new fantasies and scenarios, your body becoming insatiable again. 

You always seem to be in need of an examination sooner rather than later, and Miguel is always prepared to administer them.

[babeilovemonsters]

It kinda bugs me when people make these unique, incredibly interesting monster designs, and then give them normal human genitals. That's missing so much potential!

Picture a dragonborn or lizardfolk, who's cock is concealed. No matter how desperate you are, begging and pleading, whimpering pathetically, you only get it when you actually put in some damn effort. Having to stroke, suck and lick, just to get it out enough to be able to satiate your need.

In turn, an afab dragonborn/lizardfolk, who needs just as much effort to be able to open their hole for you. Needing to be massaged oh so gently, have your fingers trace along the ridges of their crease, until the skin moves out the way enough for you to slide deep inside.

Or how about cat monsters? They might pass the harkness test, but no matter the shape, their cocks still have those little spikes. Soft and movable, but stubborn, gently scratching through your inner walls, making you feel every single one. Latching on the inside of your throat so you choke, leaving you all hazy and dizzy as it just takes so much more effort to get out.

Cat monsters with fluffy, silky holes, with such soft fur to rest your face in while you slide your tongue so deep, they're forced to meow pathetically. Hitting such a good spot, they purr uncontrollably, vibrating the entire bed.

Or robots, who don't have proper genitalia? Who need to get creative, starting off with just toys and vibrators, before recognising that it's getting boring. Using live wires to safely but noticeably spark your soft parts, using their strong metal limbs to stop you squirming too much. Displaying porn on their screen to get you so horny, while not actually doing anything to you, just holding you down so you can't touch your poor, throbbing hole no matter how turned on you are.

Or even selkies, who most would only fuck in human form! But that's no fun. Dragging you to the depths in their halfway form, barely holding your head above the water as they pound their slippery, soft cock into your aching holes beneath the surface. Or maybe even going full seal, just barely hiding behind the rock of a nudist beach, making you pretend like everything is normal, because most people wouldn't know they're a selkie, they pass so well.

Or selkie vaginas, that are so fat and squishy. Teasing them about being unable to hide how open their hole is just by the slightest interaction. Finding the salty taste difficult to swallow, but with every moan, they hold onto you tighter, so you can't stop until either they're satisfied or you give up. And you definitely aren't doing the latter.

Just. Monster genitals. Monster cocks and cunts. Monsters.