Ik you're not raking requests or anything I just had to tell you this
Alpha Beta Robotus who just had pleasure sensors put in. Who thinks he's high and mighty and think he's going to make you feel so good.... Only for him to be like a teenage boy, and embarrassed about it. He came so fast he didn't even mean too, and he's a mess.
He isn't expecting 4 you to pull him back down with devilish smirk. You had just found a upper hand and you're going to use it to help him gain stamina >;]
CONTENTS BELOW CONTAIN SMUT AND MATURE THEMES AND, YOU GUESSED IT, ROBO-FUCKING
The fact I’ve discussed similar topics at length with mutuals — Cough Cough outis Cough Cough
But yes, he had sensory nodes already built in, which allowed him to fake pain or just meander around in a human-like manner. Added for the effort of making a truly fake but believable president. However, the pleasure sensors weren’t inherently there, or if they were, they were minuscule. Imagine him getting accustomed to that and the pleasure levels with that — being so used to the levels of sensation that he uses day-to-day. making the most out of his time with you in and out of a sexual context, with your touch and presence on his body being used to a minimal sensory threshold. He still felt you, but the limits were more contained. Then, having that suddenly increased, multiplied tenfold by adding thousands more pleasure sensors to a body. AB has no idea what he's getting into with the updated sensors and software configuration. Sure, he knows he's getting outfitted with a litany more of sensors, but they should be the same level of active. He's got no idea what he's in for, and the overwhelming onslaught he's facing when you and him are alone later, putting those sensors to the test??
Oh baby’s gonna’ blow.
Just that moment where everything’s so much more tender and visceral and real — that initial moment where you get to put your hands on his bare skin, where only your touch has been. He’s pathetic, babbling and at your mercy in a reversal and putting you upon the godly pedestal he initially claimed and carved for himself, needing your kindness and affection and dutiful care far more than he needed his pride. Call that an override.
Everything has built slowly up to this, with gentle touches making him tremble and the soft breath of your speech against his ear, his neck, his bared skin as you remove more and more of his clothing. Oh dear, the second your heated skin touches his, you murmur a concern aloud at how you can nearly hear him whirring, overheating from the increased sensations. He assures you, but it's only after a moment of trying to merely process whatever you had said, with AB being drunk on your touch and almost at the brink already, it's hard to focus on just one thing you are doing when he's feeling it all. It's everything all at once. Crashing over one another like waves in a storm.
You can't say you hate watching him like this, used to him attempting or being in control most times. He's moldable like softened clay, malleable as you run your hands over him and feel him lean into every touch and caress.
The whole time, he's flushed and bratty and begging, all barking and biting at the air as his body melts into yours. He doesn't know what to do with himself beyond weak attempts at trying to hold you or please you that are abandoned the second he feels your tongue on his pulse and your hands below the waistband of his pants. The pressure builds within him, and his body is working overtime already, but your fingers feel so soft against his kin and oh my god they're going lower and lower he's set to burst and fuckfuckfuckfuck you're right above his dick oh my god you've put your hand on it and you're grasping and gently stroking and fuckfuckfuckfuuuuuuck.
Call it a meltdown the second he's releasing early and whimpering pathetically, incoherently for you. He's offering a litany of apologies about not warning you and how he didn't realize he was that sensitive as he absolutely coats your hand and his pants in artificial semen. He's barely stopped spurting out drops of pearly cum by the time he's mustered up the courage to lift his gaze to yours. You've fixed his belt, tucking him back into his also soiled boxers and felt him buck against your hold at the hypersensitivity. You brought your soiled hand to your lips to lick off the cum that drips down your digits.
You simply smirk around your middle fingers, hollowing your cheeks before lewdly removing them with a wet pop and simply telling him, "Oh don't worry baby, we've got all night to test just how sensitive you really are and push you to last a little longer."
You drag him away by the hand after tugging him by the belt loops with the promise of strength training for his new endurance so you can make the absolute most out of his newfound sensory limits.
@ sin-sidejob 2025 -- please do not repost or copy my work.
also lmao this was originally sent and drafted in January 2025 so shoutout to you babes for waiting this long for your request, send me another and I'll try to not take three years to write it
Sorry I’m so busy, here’s a treat you jackals: Robotus gaslighting you but horny-wise- (this will make sense in a second)
He’ll tease you but finds ways to do it without actual touch, like him finding ways to make the seat or floor you’re sitting on thrum lowly, insignificant but noticeable after a while. You’ll squirm, getting aroused but won’t comment after a while. Robotus will watch as the thermal camera he has tracks the flush of blood flow to between your legs and your face, as your hips shift in circles craving the thrumming vibration to grow, instinctually chasing it, but getting no satisfaction. You may mention it, asking if he feels anything different. No darling, I feel fine and nothings out of place. Feeling okay? He murmurs in that low voice of his, setting it a little deeper akin to how it sounds fresh out of his system-update-sleep. It’s little white lies which he hopes to follow with many white lines, painting you all over.
He pretends to know nothings going on even though he’s intentionally turning you on by fucking with your senses, like controlling the A/C so your nipples pebble with the cold air and brush against your shirt so much he can see them outlined in your top’s fabric. After a while, he hears a little squelch and you blush, embarrassed you’re getting turned on by what you were told was nothing, that you’ve been imagining it.
“What have we here? Getting aroused and staining your pants all for me? Come here, little one.” And you crawl into his lap and just mewl as his cold hands breach beneath your shirt on your heated skin, making your spine shudder and quake, “all hot and bothered when I didn’t even have to do a thing.” He follows with an audible tsk, demeaning you as he undresses you, comforting touch in tandem with undignified utterances.
He doesn’t even undress you fully for a while, letting you settle on his thick and sturdy thigh as your hips shift and grind, chasing orgasm and trying to cum with so much effort, lip tugged between teeth. Ro’ll be merciful, just a bit, easing you out of your bottoms before setting you back on the sleek cotton and polyester blend of his slacks, thigh shifting up and down as he tapped his shoe on the floor repeatedly to have you keen and arch as you bounced on his thigh with the ministrations.
He always loved seeing you come undone, but especially so when he was able to toy with you and play with you, so in love with him you’ll bend over just from sensory plays and little lies alone.
- warnings: none except maybe one allusion to a robo-dick
- content: gender neutral, sfw, quite domestic
• he’s a rather acquired taste, especially if violent tendencies, metal, and snark is what you prefer.
- it’s okay some of us have types
• the initial impression of him you had gathered very much so depends on where and when you met him and on what terms. If it was he was in his Aaron Sorkin-brain soup patriot-bot stage, then you enjoy the full 180 degree turn on his personality, because you’re a dark-hearted employee of cognito inc and enjoy a good fiasco from time to time. - as long as you don’t have to clean it up
• if you met him during/after his introduction to internet and his decision to wipe out humanity, mentally prepare to shock this man stupid by keeping up with his wit. He mocks you or derides you? Make sure he realizes you’ll take what he’ll give you and dish it right back out.
- “oh what competent thought could you possibly suggest? Everything dims in comparison to man-made brilliance.”
- “aren’t you missing 3/4’s of your ‘man-made’ limbs, Mr. President?”
• he’d be hard if he had a dick.
• his love language is snarky dialogue and touch, but with him currently…tubed, it’s hard to attain the latter.
• he cherishes moments, before, during, and after you are together. Y’know the moments in movies like pride and prejudice, with the hands. He pulls that shit subconsciously. He’ll clench his hands after you brush his while handing him something or when he wants to do nothing but feel your softness of your hair for himself. He’ll get the urge to brush something out of your face or readjust your clothing but he can’t, usually trapped behind glass and unable to act on his urges. So instead, Robotus tries to win you over with words even though he resorts to retorts and bickering with you aimlessly and logging your dialogue in his memory bank to replay your laugh and revisit the moments where your eyes shine brightest.
• He may claim to hate humanity but with you there’s nothing more worth saving.
