#OUGH..........

[ordi3nary]

he's just a lil guy..

[oni-1-oni-none]

yeah im normal man why do you ask

[waitineedaname]

i feel like the svsss stuff i've been writing is too tame. i need to do something fucked up to them

[eusexuanal]

Settles down on your dashboard gingerly and with a big heaving sigh

[varilien]

am i blanchin?

girl we blanchin!!

HI HIII happy birthday to everyone's favorite mystery twins!! how did they grow up so fast!!!!

Palestine: Funds | Action | eSims | Info Sudan Resources | Congo Resources

[neytui]

Stay with me, buddy, we're good!!

Happy (late) premiere!

[millenari]

do you ever re-read your own wips like 'damn the bitch that wrote this oughta finish it'

[cdpdraws]

trope that makes me crazy.png

[crowberri]

Thorn in her finger

[spurionage]

one must imagine teenage girls who are actually fully grown men

[satoblue]

MDNI, f!reader, smut between a sentient robot and a human, satoru is still a cocky bastard (i love him), he is very curious, he has a metal cock and knows how to use it, slight breeding kink. | wc: 1.2k | dividers made by me <3

robot satoru . . . he is a machine built in the image of a man — a painfully handsome one at that (not that you’d ever admit it out loud). he was engineered to perfection, a man of metal with an artificial intelligence too advanced for human comfort. and for some reason, he is utterly fascinated by you.

or more specifically — what you are. a female human; a woman. soft where he’s hard, warm where he’s cold. the opposite of what he represents, his other half biologically (if he were human) so to speak. but really, he is intrigued by how your feeble body responds to him — responds to sex… or as he likes to call it — “pleasure testing”. and all in the name of science, of course.

and in your case, you’re not sure what’s more degrading — the way his metal hips slam into you with flawless precision in a brutal rhythm, his cock angled just right to hit that one spot over and over — or the way he groans, voice crackling with static, sounding far too pleased for something that shouldn’t even be capable of feeling desire.

“you’re so tight,” he murmurs. “ideal conditions… optimal for breeding.”

…a robot said that.

you should be horrified. you want to be horrified. but instead, your cunt pulses and flutters around him, slick gushing out of you like your body’s trying to please him, trying to coax release from something that doesn’t even produce it.

it doesn’t matter, though. because your body - your biology - it doesn’t care. it only knows one thing: that he’s filling you perfectly.

your face burns with shame as you bury it into the pillow beneath you, your thoughts completely turned to mush.

how humiliating.

but it’s working.

and the worst part is — he knows. you know that he knows. because satoru (or so he is called) knows everything — too intelligent for his own good (or yours).

“you liked that,” he drones clinically, sounding oddly amused. you whimper. “heart rate elevated. body temperature increased by 5.3 percent. pupils dilated—”, the robot goes on and on, listing symptoms off.

you shiver from both his words and his curious caresses, smushing your face further into the cushion in a weak attempt to hide. because he’s not just fucking you — he’s monitoring you.

nothing slips past him. not a single moan or clench. every tiny reaction is being logged and analyzed in real time. and he doesn’t break a sweat (obviously), but you can hear his sensors whirring loudly above you, his fans struggling to cool him down as he overheats from the exertion — from the effort of fucking you into your own mattress.

you’re laying flat on your stomach, your back in a deep arch, your bottom swaying in the air and colliding repeatedly with his mean hips.

satoru’s got you in doggy — or, as he not-so-helpfully noted earlier, “the position most commonly utilized by your primitive ancestors. it is preferred due to its reproductive efficiency.” his voice was emotionless when he said it, like a line straight from a school textbook.

cold metal hands spread your cheeks wide, keeping you open for him to observe the motions of him entering and exiting your hole — splitting you open. and you’re beneath him, shaking, stretched taut on the cock he custom built for you to test your limits.

“you’re taking me surprisingly well,” your ears barely pick up on him speaking again. satoru talks more to himself than to you, his tone flat and inquisitive. “considering the girth, your elasticity is… impressive.”

it’s crude how blunt he is with his words. and you realize after a moment that what he said is barely praise. it’s not meant to be a compliment. and it’s super messed up.

not because of the implications of you, a human, having intimate relations with a hunk of metal — but because to him every punishing and measured thrust, every gasp of yours, every dribble of slick coating his fake, metal cock is just satoru collecting data.

but for you — it has to be the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

is it supposed to feel this good, though?

that thought alone makes your stomach turn and curl with shame — because it shouldn’t. not with him. not like this. he’s not even real. he’s a machine — a supposedly soulless one.

the man(?) continues to study you like you’re an erotic specimen — some rat caught in a lab, a firm grip on your waist as he easily pulls you off and back onto his length like a rag doll. his unbelievably blue eyes flicker between your aching, swollen cunt and the arch of your back. you feel the weight of his piercing gaze — cold and curious.

but what is worse, truly, is the way he casually asks you questions mid thrust, his voice smooth like he’s talking about the weather — like you’re not currently choking on your own moans and drooling like you lost all control over your functions.

“do you feel that in your lower abdomen?” he asks innocently as his hips snap harder into yours, making you jolt. “is the pressure more intense when i angle deeper?”

you don’t understand — why does this type of human connection intrigue him? where had he even learned all of this? surfing the internet and stumbling across porn?

you hiccup some garbled nonsense back at him and satoru blinks twice at your lack of response. you spasm around him again, soaking him and your bedding as you make a mess, trying so pathetically hard to milk him dry.

“oh?” satoru huffs out close to a laugh, something equally condescending and pitying as he comes to a realization. “that’s not going to work on me, i’m afraid. i don’t produce semen.”

and for some reason, you feel a pang of disappointment at that.

as if your body — despite knowing better — has been waiting for it. craving his seed and eager to receive it, aching for the warm and gooey flood of release, for the act to be completed the way your biology demands.

the way it’s supposed to.

you forgot momentarily that he can register all of the sensations, the artificial penis connected to his receptors. you whine pathetically — right before another rough thrust knocks the breath from your lungs.

“though… your cervix seems desperate for it. how fascinating.”

he’s watching everything a little more closely now — how you twitch, how you shiver, how your thighs tremble under him. and when you start getting squirmy, your hips making a poor attempt to try and jerk away or press back harder (he can’t quite understand why you can’t decide) — he tilts his head to the side, recognizing the signs with eerie calm.

“you’re going to cum,” he notes factually. “the spasms in your pelvic floor indicate it. as well as your increased writhing. they are consistent with all previous observations such as excessive wetness—”

“w-wai— hnngh— c-can’t—!” you manage to squeak out, interrupting him.

but satoru cuts in without missing a beat. “incorrect. you can take it. you were made to.” a pause. then, “this is what you were born for.”

you’re not even trying to listen anymore as he prattles on. all that you have left in you is a babbled sob muffled by the sheets.

you’re limp, wrecked, weak — and all because this non human thing fucks you like it - he - owns you. driving into you again and again like you’re his research project he’s determined to figure out — you’re helpless.

and he isn’t even a real man.

that’s what makes it even worse.

[machveil]

Johnny announcing to the 141 that he’s trying for a baby with the missus. like, the eyebrow raising type of announcement, “Aye, tryin’ every night, bound to happen soon.”. Kyle did not need to know that, but he politely keeps his mouth shut. of course, with no complaints, Johnny keeps yapping about how the missus basically hasn’t left their bed, the bonnie lass is probably sore and tuckered out - Price’s ears burning red as he listens

what Johnny didn’t tell them is that he’s sterile, Simon’s the one he entrusted his wife to. holding your shaking body as Simon bullies your poor cunt for the fifth night in a row, swallowing down your whines and moans with sloppy kisses like a good husband. Simon’s not complaining, and he doesn’t plan on stopping once that test turns positive

[hvackisser]

Bro I haven't drawn in weeks but...Hectorrrrr 🥴💖💖💖 practicing how to draw him, and honestly it feels nice to get a feel for drawing double chins cause (as a haver myself) its time to stop pretending theyre not attractive 😤

Also in case the vent joke doesnt land, I imagine that's post-dateviator acquisition but pre-meeting Hector so I'm just confused about a disembodied voice blessing me 😂

Taglist♡: @me-myself-and-my-fos @flowering-darkness @sunstar-of-the-north @changeling-selfship @cherry-bomb-ships @rosieaurora @tropgothships @little-miss-selfships @starlos-soulmate @limey-self-inserts @candyheartedchy @space-sweetheart @clancykisser @squips-ship @berryshipbasket @soulnottainted @saturdaymorningcartoonz @severants @tex-treasures @sparkyscissorhands @iwishihadfangs @fictodreamer @adoredbyalatus @heartribbons @wizard-ships

[wolfythewitch]

Watched parkour civilization with my brother LOL

There was also this sketch but I didn't like it as much

[aintnopartylikeaprideparty]

please be what i think it is please be what i think it is please be what i think it is please be what i think it is please be what i think it is ple

FUCK YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[doctorsiren]

Oh Dipper, you would LOVE Chappell Roan