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sin-sidejob · 1 year

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Insidious Inside Job: Halloween pt. 2

Note: Inspired by skoshibuns fanart on instagram + I have songs linked with each segment for the specific portion that goes with the monster, the plot, or both + reminder, I may be an english major but this thing is barely proofread

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, AFAB + GN PRONOUNS, RAW SEX (wrap that rascal), monster-fucking, tentacle fucking, inhuman creatures, furry fucking? One brief scene of alluded almost sexual assault/assault (that gets stopped and interrupted) incredibly vague nothing actually happens, drug use/roofied/narcotics, I guess, werewolf (slight A/B/O dynamics), breeding kink, talks of missing body parts and death, cockwarming, somnophilia the undead, zombies, doctor play, doctor kink, doctor/fake patient, living dead, experimentation with cadavers and dead bodies, mention of illness/cancer, various Halloween-y phenomena + probably more

Content: smut, spooky scary spectral holiday smuttening, monster and inhuman creature fucking, usual debauchery you can expect from me, dicks and pussy, inhuman and monster genitalia, reader has AFAB nethers/genitalia and a cunt but I don’t describe about tits so folks are safe, I used gender neutral pronouns all throughout as well. Mentions of underwear and generalized clothing but no bras or gendered articles of clothing. Southernification of Robotus (you’ll see) + probably more

! ! ! This is part two, with Reagan + Brett + Andre + Robotus + Myc. Part one, located here, includes Gigi + JR + Glenn + a bonus character ! ! !

Reagan Ridley: MAD SCIENTIST

• songs: Evil Eye - Franz Ferdinand

- You were used to the chaotic cadence that came with knowing and loving the reclusive Dr. Ridley, enjoying the maniacal dynamic and aiding her in her experiments, helping her tidy up should a test go awry. You aided her in all her endeavors, even the unsightly ones, and that dedication and mutual trust blossomed into friendship and then eventually love and list. Simple creatures, you two were, and instincts were a gravitational pull as equally potent to magnets as to mankind.

- The latter half of the year, when the weather turns and the leaves change and shed their green covers to don the classic golden hues, is when she came alive even more. She found energy in the fall and winter weather, more likely to be within the confines of her laboratory and adding scrawled, scratch-like lines into her notebooks and texts, running about with her coat billowing behind her like a shadow tethered to her, fluttering beside her with the grace of a conspirator.

- There were times when she would not need your assistance and you would be free and left to your own devices, wandering about the extravagant library and traipsing through the halls, snooping where you shouldn't, and happily receiving your punishments. Life was good and continued to be so, almost mundane in an unnatural, phenomenal way. There was no dark side of the moon to you, only the light because the shadows were your home, and the person you called lover languished alongside you in Moonglow-shaded craters.

- But your favorite moments had to be when it was you she was examining, you who she was teasing and playing with, black patent leather gloves that were entirely unsafe and unethical in a lab environment used on your form, drawing out pinpricks of chills. Especially now as Reagan hums at the sight of your disheveled state, silent beside her idle noises and internalized dialogue as if she is annotating already-written notes within the confines of her brain of you as her hands draw out more data to analyze, almost pulling all your secrets pool forth from moaning lips via her ministrations.

- Reagan is seldom tender or ginger in her touch, not in a harshness but more in a neutral, guiding, directing manner. Like moving you about with the same grace as working with her equipment and tools, movements memorized and muscles well-accustomed to all that you are. She can be softer, in aftermath moments where your body and senses can not make heads or tails of where the two of you ended or began, fully enwrapped and enveloped in one another like coiled vines of ivy, cascading upwards and intertwining in great efforts. But now, her touch is not soft, but steady and purposeful.

- Cold gloves remove clothing and secure straps onto your body, across your limbs, and holding you tight against a weathered and soft wooden table, built with the intention to be used for medical seminars and demonstrations. You lay, naked and taut upon a staged table in the center of an empty auditorium for the use of educational experimentation presentations and viewing seminars for research and study. The arena on her property is empty, no event planned for today, just the two of you in the grand room and feeling infinitesimally small, yet powerful simultaneously.

- "Not too tight?" Dr. Reagan Ridley asks softly as she busies herself with hovering over the straps that secure your wrists and ankles to the examination table, gloved hands running along oiled leather seams. "Perfect." is your answer and her smile matches the word, pride in her eyes at her wonderful assistant, her previous lover. "There's my darling, now what are te rules?" she asks, unbuttoning her labcoat to expose her blouse and slacks beneath, slinky and clinging to her body in a way that makes your firsts clench just so, palms opening and closing with the yearning need to touch.

- "Nuclear is stop, gradient is slow down, and prism is keep going, or good." you answer, squirming a bit against the restrains for show and shuffling your ass against the soft wood, feeling the cool air caress your exposed, already leaking pussy. "Wonderful," the Doctor trails off, wandering away from the table and leaving you to lay spread and scan your eyes across the planetarium-painted ceiling above and marvel at the gold leaf details in the stars and constellations, drawing you back in when she returns and adjusts her gloves with a small thwack, "now, where should we begin?"

- You don't respond immediately, not knowing how or where to answer, unable to distinguish a clear mood in her dark eyes for what she wants and what she is planning to take from you. The hesitation makes Reagan decide on her own, a dark chuckle emerging from her lips and settling in the base of your spine, curling like a funnel stormcloud. "Alright then, guess it's up to Doctor's orders." She smooths softened leather against your inner thighs and parts your lips, blowing cool air in puffs against your exposed cunt and clicking her tongue in notes as her mind wanders in fascination.

- "I think I'll start here, test your sensitivity first hmm?" she asks aloud, mainly to herself, the table raised to her waist so she can easily maneuver around you and toy with you, like a doll. It feels all like a pleasurable version of The Princess Bride's pit of despair but mixed with a sex dungeon and none of the latex. "There, how does that feel?" it feels good, decent, not enough as the first portion of her pointer finger breaches your walls, the texture not adding much besides a cooler sensation. You answer the same, and she hums before moving on, shifting in a manner reminiscent of a cat's sly sway.

- "Space for improvement, good." she comments, a stray hair falling into her forehead from her tight ponytail, dark hair pulled back and away from her face and allowing you to fully watch her move and her shifting expressions. She thrusts the finger into you, slowly and watching as you clench around her, gaping and closing in a rhythmic pattern. "And this?"

- "its g-good too," you choke out, shifting your head from looking at her to nothing, eyes shut and you try not to squirm, letting her venture as she pleased, "but not good enough?" Reagan asks, and you nod in agreement, prompting her to curl her finger upwards, matching with her second finger, and smirking, brows arching as she watches you grow more and more disheveled.

- "ah," you moan out, lip tugged between your teeth as you bite down, fists clenching and unclenching once the pleasure begins to initially build, feeling it bubble forth in your belly like a tide pool on the beach, collecting and growing as more gets put into it. "Now that's a reaction, keep speaking beautiful." she directs, curling in upward strokes from within your walls

- You nod, mewling a bit as your voice breaks and pitches, feeling her slide in another digit, pointer finger to ring finger all slotted. Her gloves are thicker, making the stretch a bit wider than what you're accustomed to, and you break a tad, grinding your hips down and wriggling, aching to get something more, and that something ends up being Reagan's attention.

- "Oh this won't do, I think you need some more advanced methods." Reagan murmurs, enjoying the look on your face as she steps back and out of your line of vision, holding back laughter as you whine and make confused tones, wondering why she stopped when she had finally gotten to the good part. "Easy now, just a moment, you can be patient for me, can't you?"

- "Yes, Doctor." She whips her head around and drops the tool in her hand, and you're worried for a second she didn't like you saying that but she arrives moments later with a silicone dick and a small vibrator in hand, accompanied by a sly grin. "Doctor, hm? We're keeping that." she states as she sets the items in her hands down beside you on the flat table, now away from your sight before you could see any of the specific characteristics or facets.

- You squirm again, chills from the exposed air finally overriding the pleasure in your veins and cooling your body. Reagan tuts at that, smoothing her dry glove up your thigh in an attempt to warm you up, "phrase?" she asks, gentle and present as she looks at you. "Prism." she smiles and nods before her expression shifts, popping the cap off a bottle of lube and warming it between her hands as she looks you over, a small smile emerging once she spots your cunt, clenching around nothing from the show she put on of her rubbing her palms together with her exposed forearms rippling.

- "Ready for me?" she asks, adjusting her gloves and then sucking off the slick residue from her one hand, purposely staring you down as she does it with intent. "Always, Doctor." a shudder that she fails to try and hide rolls through her spine at that, not fully used to you ever calling her that, especially when you're bare and at her mercy.

- "good answer." Reagan responds, lubing up the silicone and sliding it through your folds slowly, watching as you tense and begin to grind. Her hand plants your hip down still, forcing it to stop as she fixes you a warning look while she props the dick near your cunt.

- Sliding it in, she sinks the silicone dick deep into you and watches as your cunt takes it in, noting aloud how the gloves prepped you better than what she does manually glove-free. Keening out, you force yourself still and feel her hand move to instead grip your hip instead of planting it still, guiding you along in a tempo that matches the ministrations of her other hand, fucking the fake dick into you over and over slowly, picking up the pace gradually.

- "That seems to be treating you better. You agree?" barely managing a nod, you respond with a grunting moan as she angles the silicone against a spot of nerves, making you jolt and gasp. "I'll take that as a yes." Reagan jokingly responds to herself, reaching the hand once on your hip to reach away and grab the vibrator, eager to get your pent-up self breaking and shattering like glass.

- You don't realize what's happening, too blissfully unaware due to how she continues flicking her wrist, rocking the dick into you at a pace that builds tension but doesn't get that knot of pleasure unraveling at all. When the vibrator comes to life and thrums in her hand, your head whips up in that instant Pavlovian response, knowing she's about to make you see God.

- "Holy fuck please use that thing on me." you blurt out immediately, drawing a laugh from her that's dark while she fixes you a warning look, a brow raised and you rush to find your words. "Please, Doctor." Reagan hums, pleased, and then reaches down to plant the vibrator on your clit, rolling it in circles and shapes that make your legs struggle against the stirrup-like straps, body wriggling and squirming as it tries to get comfortable to handle getting fucked this way.

- "Well would you look at that, pretty damn effective." She muses, upping the vibrator speed casually with one hand as the other splits you open on the silicone cock with ease. "Next time we're going to have to test this with having both of your holes filled, probably get you squirting in minutes."

- The idea alone that she planted like a seedling in your head blooms, making you even more turned on if possible. The way the dick nestled the spots inside that already got you seeing stars? Multiplying the effect. And now the vibrator rolling over your clit and thrumming incredibly sends you over the edge, barely able to warn her coherently before you cum with a squealing moan.

- "Fucking gorgeous," Reagan marvels, fucking you through it and lowering the setting on the vibrator, still keeping it there but rolling it in softer, smoother motions while she gently fucks the dick into you, working through an orgasm that she manages to draw out for roughly a minute or so. "So goddamn pretty like this."

- She keeps going for a while until your legs stop shaking, then she removes the toys from you and moves about, undoing the straps and stirrups holding you then grabbing a nearby blanket and wrapping you up in it. You sit up and scoot over to the side of the table, legs hanging off as Reagan stands before you, smoothing your hair back and checking you over.

- She busies herself with rolling her fingers over the slightly indented marks where the straps were, double checking to make sure you were okay but she doesn't catch your adoring, sleepy look until you tap at her arm and then raise your hand to lift her chin, beaming dazedly at her. "Hi Reagan." you murmur, pressing kisses to her cheek and jaw lazily.

- "Hello yourself, feeling okay?" she asks, amusement in her tone as she looks you over, making sure you're fully covered in the blanket and warm, trying to prevent you from getting overly cold.

- You giggle and look up at her, grinning wide and honest, "I could not be any fucking better than I am right now, now gimme' a kiss." Reagan obliges, and everything fades as it always does around her, in the best and most comforting blur.

Brett Hand: FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER

• song: Body - Mother Mother or My Boy Builds Coffins - Florence + The Machine

- Brett wishes he could manage to carve a place for himself in your life and at your side with as much ease as he has with loving you, completely enthralled and enamored with everything you are, all that you’ve been, and all that you’ll be. He’s fascinated by you and the intricacies in your movements and routines, the way your brows furrow when confused or frustrated, the smile you don’t show unless you’re caught by surprise and unable to remember hiding it.

- He gathers these little facets of yourself like river rocks and stones, wearing them down in the revisits of his memory, rolling them flat and small but soft in the way he reveres them. If only you loved him like he loved you. If only you actually knew him, not just of him. You’ve met before, known of each other practically since his initial creation. Yet he’s not satisfied because he doesn’t know what it’s like to be with you, only knowing you at the arms reach that he has from you helping him and fixing him up.

- You’re an assistant to his father, his creator, an up-and-coming scientist fascinated with his methods in Reanimation and modern-age necromancy, hoping to study his techniques and model some of his talents with your own. His father, Dr. Quentin Hand, made all of his siblings as initial creations and had Brett last, the youngest and most rushed one of the collection. He was an accumulation of spare parts, the battered bits left in the barrel, a literal representation of what comes from patchwork scientific craft and lacking interest. That’s not to say you didn’t treat him kindly or matched his father's lack of enthusiasm.

- No, you treated him carefully, just like the rest of his siblings. You gave him extra attention and care, sewing back on fingers should they get snagged and fall off his hand, making a few jokes all the while you thread the needle and fish it in and out of his flesh about how his hand’s should be better taken care of, especially since it’s his last name.

- his heart was monitored and he prayed you hadn’t caught the speeding up of the pace, the rapid ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum of his pre-owned heart firing off in awe of you and your presence. If you did, you don’t mention it and you just continue hemming and stitching him back together, returning his ring finger back onto his left hand with care, humming all the while some song stuck in the back of your head.

- “there,” you nearly startle him, pulling him from his reverie with a pat to his knee as you sit up from your chair and clean up, putting your supplies away and disinfecting, “all fixed. Let me know if there’s any trouble with your seams again and I’ll patch you up — no sweat.” His eyes, one hazel and the other bright blue, peer up at you with nothing short of pure adoration. It’s always there, poor boy can’t do anything to hide it. He just loves you is all.

- "Thank you, I'm sorry you have to always fix me up all the time." Brett states, rubbing his arm subconsciously, truly meaning it and knowing it had to be at least a little redundant to mend him after every trip and fall or tumble down the steps. Poor thing had no balance, something you try to work on in your spare time between projects and lessons with Brett's father. You turn, taking your gloves off and disposing of them while looking his way, a sad frown on your face making his dissipate like smoke. "Why are you sorry for that? It's not something you can help, sweet boy, and besides --" you trail off while stepping near him and fixing his hair and looking down at his still-sitting form, "I'm happy to help you, its what I'm here for!"

- and with that, you depart, heading to another appointment to experiment under supervision, He dreads the days that come forward now, nearing when you would be leaving since your education under the apprenticeship of his father ends to a close. You'd be gone, with your own experiments and helpers, a life completely devoid of him. he likes to think you'd write him or call, maybe see his name scrawled in your looping cursive handwriting and hear your words drawn across a page and yearn to find your love within them.

- but even he, Brett, a lovesick optimist knows that would be too good to be true. Within the month, you'd pack and leave and the spanning acres of his family's estate would be empty of your presence. Your quarters would miss your belongings, the posters, and art on the walls, the little personal items and books littered about. It would be as if you were never there, but to Brett, he would always remember you being there. He may have been reanimated, but the days where you roamed the halls and came across his sight were the only days he felt truly alive.

- Little did he know that you had been planning your departure for years and hoped you would go about it, what exactly you would leave or sell, what you would pack, how you would pack, and who you would take with you. "Dr. Hand, I have a request," you start, making casual conversation while you've currently got your forearms embedded in a cadaver's inner organs, organizing things, "I was wondering if I could take one of the experiments with me when I leave early this week?"

- Doctor Quentin Hand is no meek creature, nor does his stature indicate such. he was almost frighteningly tall, but with age has developed a slight hunching slouch making him roughly 6'5 with the rugby player's stature. The man is thick and bulky, with a head full of auburn hair turning grey and the shade of sunned strands with his age. "Depends on which of the creations you'd call to you, and if they'd like to go. The eldest are off limits, but should one of the children agree, you are free to take them. But only one."

- he is currently invested in combining chemicals to inject within the bloodstream when reanimation is to take place later, and luckily so. He misses your entire face light up, beaming from ear to ear behind your surgical mask and eyes glowing with excitement. "I've already decided who I'd like to bring with me."

-"Oh?" he doesn't even turn, swirling an open beaker that smells of disinfectant and acid, "who?". Dr. Hand shows no concern and even that worries you, knowing there was little love shown to the creations, and none whatsoever to your favorite. "I was planning to take Brett, the youngest of them."

-He waves a gloved hand and nods, "Of course, pack his things if he hasn't already. Be sure to invest in a lot of sutures and sewing materials as well, you will definitely need it." if you didn't need this formal apprenticeship, you would've killed him with his own reanimating equipment. "Yes sir."

- later, when you have cleaned up, changed, and wrapped up the experiment which once again went as a success, you settle down in your room and continue backing up your personal belongings into extra bags and suitcases for the items you gathered in your time here. A record plays, crackling initially but still pouring out the cadence of the Lungs album from Florence + The Machine as you wander about, clearing your shelves and delicately folding posters and emptying the walls.

- just as you flip over the vinyl to the b side, a knock rattles against your door. When you open it, you didn't expect Brett's tear-stained face to be the first thing you see. Nor did you expect him to rush and hug you, drawing you into his form and holding you close while he buries his head in your shoulder. "Why do you have to leave?"

- You think it's cruel, but it was always going to be a surprise for you to take him with you. The feelings were obvious and only reciprocated a few months ago. Sadly, you couldn't act on them until you got out from under the eyes of Doctor Quentin for Brett's sake and safety. But now that's not a worry, and you leave after breakfast tomorrow morning with the patchwork babydoll of a man before you.

- The sight enough is heartbreaking, especially with the direct feel of his tremors shaking through him, and then through you with the closeness. It takes several attempts to ease his cries and pry him up from your shoulder, stepping back to close the door behind him then flicking the lock shut before you cup his cheek and lift his head upwards. "Brett, sweetheart, how could you think I'd leave without you?" you soothe, thumbs rolling over his cheek and swiping tears away. "I wanted to surprise you but I think you need to hear it now, I'm taking you with me. I was never going to leave without you in the first place."

- Brett blinks blearily, wiping the tears from his multicolored eyes to stare at you openly and dart his gaze between your own eyes. "You're serious?" he asks, still buried in disbelief, "why would you want to take me, you barely even like me." Brett's met with laughter, not caustic or harsh and at his expense like what he's used to, yours is lighthearted and kind, just like your eyes. "Sweetheart, I care for you a great deal beyond just liking you." you say, taking his hands in yours, the ones you've constantly tended to like the rest of him.

- "What does that mean?" Brett asks, squeezing your hands tight and finding it impossible to look anywhere in the room besides your face. "It means I love you, silly thing, and I refuse to let you stay here any longer when you deserve the world. Let me show it to you." His tears reappear again but its relief, the feeling that swarms his body and makes him feel shrouded in Moonglow. You care for him, you love him, that his years of pining after you and hoping, praying for a miracle were worth it. You loved him, your silly ragdoll.

- "Say it again." he says, his hands moving from yours to your waist, brushing the bare skin where your shirt has ridden up with ease, aching to feel more of your warm skin in his palms. "I love you Brett." you murmur, forehead pressed to his as you press your palms to his chest, fingertips tracing the material of his henley while humming in a pleased tone once his hands begin to wander.

- "One more time." he whispers as he leans forward to catch your lips with his, admiring how your eyes flutter shut when he does. You kiss, lips shifting back and forth as you murmur how you loved him into his open mouth like a secret, and he'd cherish and protect it as such. Brett pulls back, palms cupping your warm cheeks just as you had previously with tender grace and you spot his tears have ended.

- "I will never let you down," he promises, smile bright and crooked, perfectly him and equally as charming, "I swear, you'll never regret this, never." and you know its the truth, not because he says it but because you've known for ages that there was no one else you'd care for this much. As if he was made solely for you, perfectly patchworked together.

- In an act of bravery or stupidity, you grab his hand and step backward towards your still-made bed, peering up at him from lidded eyes. "I know that, but how about you show me just how much you love me right here, hm?" you tease, loving how his mouth fell agape and his arms fled to your waist again, eagerness steeped into his actions like tea. "Can I?" brett asks, always the soft, chivalrous, perfect man. "Absolutely." you respond, already ushering out of the shirt and baring your chest to his hungry, heterochromial eyes.

- he spares no time in crowding you against the bed, climbing atop your languid form and pressing doting kisses at your lips then making his way down to your neck, eagerly leaving hickeys and marks while he undoes your belt and shucks your pants down. He bares your underwear to him and leaves you to kick off your socks with your pants, making a pile on your rug you don't mind at all. "Can I taste you?" he practically pleads, lifting up to stare down at you, beating you to the question you were just about to ask him, making you laugh once more, still that lighthearted sweet sound. "Maybe later, and then ill be able to suck you off. Right now I just want you in me, Brett. That okay?"

- he's torn between crying, busting a load in his jeans, or both. Brett just nods, lip tugged between his teeth and moving with all the enthusiasm of a hyperactive puppy, kneeling on the floor to help you slide off your underwear and nearly drooling the second he spots your bare cunt. He's running on more basic, bare instincts but wants nothing more than to flood your cunt with his cum and keep it there, keep himself there as long as he can. Never wants to leave you, and he never wants the marks and signs of him on you to fade either.

- "are you-" "yes I'm sure Brett, now can you please take your clothes off so I can ride you?" he nearly trips over himself in the process of standing and yanking off his shirt, which he does in that hot lift it from the back of the neck and tug it forward trademark style that has a new layer of slick pool forth. His jeans are mid-rise but are slung low, boxers peaking out briefly before he abandons those too, revealing one appendage you never had to mend. You're a bit glad, you ended up with a surprise too tonight, who would've thought?

- Brett returns, not knowing where to sit or lay until you shove him back to sit against the pillows upright, allowing you to sit on his lap and lay your arms over his shoulders while hovering, teasing before you to be gifted this man's virginity just like you were given his heart and soul. "You sure, baby?" you murmur, knees outside of his own and pressed chest to chest, "I can wait however long you need to." Brett grins, playful and teasing in his own way, and nips at your lip. "I'm okay, m'good, cant wait t'see what it feels like to be buried in you, probably even warmer than you feel right now." He emphasizes with a large and running up your bare spine, sending you arching and your knees threatening to buckle. You sometimes forget how big he is, and with the hefty dick bobbing near his stomach, you're not sure how you could have ever forgotten.

- "Take me then, babydoll" and he does, large hands encompassing your hips as he guides you to sit on his dick, slowly letting it enter and let you get accustomed, "there you go, nice and - fucking tight" Brett murmurs, voice deeper and getting you more riled up than you know what to do with. You had seen him bare plenty of times, but never fully, and the experience was doing you wonders right now as you rested for a moment and let him breathe before you started bouncing on him and making him cum way earlier than you know he'd like. You'd enjoy it anyway.

- He whines after a few moments, his hips shifting and making you both groan, his head falling back into the pillows and his fair falling into disarray, strands of auburn and reddish brown falling into his forehead. "Please, just fuck me, have me I just need you." Brett whines into your neck again, no tears this time as his arms wrap tautly around your form, allowing you to feel divinely sculpted muscles hold you tight and made your walls clench, relishing in his squeaking moan. You'd break him. good thing you know how to put him back together. "Easy baby, I've got you." you murmur, smoothing back his hair before you lower to your haunches and lift your hips, slamming back down and sending him yelling your name while biting his teeth into your shoulder.

- Oh yes, you were absolutely going to break him.

- You fuck yourself on him, feeling his hands grip and drag across your body as you use him, rolling your hips in shapes, occasionally spelling his name out through your gyrations and smiling to yourself as you watch him fall further and further into a mess, hair mussed, mouth agape and eyes tight shut. The skin of his lip is nearly broken open from how much he's bitten and tugged on it, puffy and reddened on his flushed and freckled face. Brett rises and clings back onto you, suddenly shifting his hips and fucking up into you, letting you hear louder slaps of skin against skin while he manhandles you. "M'gonna' cum, gotta' cum can I please cum — I wanna cum so bad, please." he begs, planting kisses at your collarbone and pulse sporadically between broken moans and pants.

- You never expected the reaction nor your own, unable to fight the feeling emanating from your soaked and silken cunt as he fucks up into it, stretching you wide in a way you'll never be tired of. "You can cum, go on and fill me, Brett, wanna' feel you for days. Please Brett, make me feel good." your boy delivers, jackhammering into you and making you cry out, tugging at his hair while his hands plant themselves at your waist in order to maneuver you around, biting deep at your shoulder when he cums with a broken, shattered shout of your name.

- The way his hips stutter in that frantic pattern, battering your cunt that has you squirming and grinding, you cum rapidly and heavily, whiting out and feeling your surroundings blur to nothing as you repeat his name over and over, clawing down his back as he slows and finally stops, holding you impossibly close. You take longer than he does recover and return to the world, head lolled back and breathing heavy, allowing brett to lay the two of you down and upon the pillows, wrestling the comfort and sheets over your sweat-slicked body and his.

- He always wanted to be a part of your life, and now, years later, he can't stop smiling and hasn't stopped since. Your silly, smiling ragdoll of a husband.

Andre Lee: W E R E WO L F

• song: Howlin’ for You - The Black Keys

- Andre was superficially open, not talking of more intimate aspects of his life but being carelessly free with the rest, and the personal factoids and tidbits emerge in passing comments in conversation send your brain whirling.

- he’s never answered any of your questions as to why he avoids full moons or why he’s unreachable during some times of the month, closest you’ve gotten was Myc cracking a joke about menstruation but you know damn well from a fuck ton of personal experience that he’s absolutely packing heat.

- he’d been sick the past few days, not fully present in meetings and a bit light headed. It got shrugged off as side effects from any number of drugs but you knew better. The disregard and dismissals that came from him when you showed concern were what made that worry and concern grow, manifesting and sprawling into a thorny expanse of knots tugging at your conscious, fixated on helping him.

- so you stand before an older home, 1920’s brick masonry hidden behind modern day paint, sidled beside the other brownstones on the block and fish out your key on the chain he gifted you, a little cartoonish duck smiling brightly while flipping you off, and turn the series of locks in the door while balancing some takeout on the other side.

- after several moments, you make it inside and lock back up, setting your keys alongside Andre’s in the bowl near the door and spotting the matching fuck duck keychain and smiling before making your way through the house, easily navigating through the darkness and making it to the kitchen to drop off some takeout for the egg drop soup he always ordered when sick. “Andre?” You get no response, the house quiet and your brows furrow while your lips purse, that worry unfolding again, “sugar? Where are you?” You get no response and your words echo in the house

- you get no response but you hear a groan, muffled and heady, soft and barely heard. But it’s his, and you drop everything in your hands upon the counter and follow the sound, brain a slurry of what ifs and remembering his medical history should you need it. By the time you make it back further in the house and to his bedroom, the doors locked shut. Real shut. You knock harshly and call to him, voice a bit desperate “Andre honey, you okay?”

- “go away.” It’s him, but not, deeper and meaner that the Andre you’re used to. It’s not a deterrent. “Not if you’re not okay, let me in.” You try the doorknob again and he shouts out “it’s not safe for you right now, go away.” He says more but you don’t hear it through the door. “What do you mean it’s not safe, Andre let me in.” you cry back, banging the side of a fist against the door, beating it loudly trying to persuade him to let you in. Probably not the most convincing manner.

- “GO! You’re not supposed to be here, m’gonna hurt you.” confusion could not even begin to explain what was going through your head, throat taut with fear, “Andre, I could give a fuck, I’m not leaving you like this.” He’s pleading in a sad rage, like a storm with no lightning, all thunder, “I don’t want t’hurt you, please, please just go.” You refuse, and say the same before you break the lock on the door then try and come in, not getting through until you back up and ram a shoulder into it once, twice, finally busting it on the third impact.

- he had warned you for good reason, and the yellow eyes that meet your gaze from a huddled, shadowed corner solidify that. “Should’ve run.” comes murky from him, his mouth moving oddly and you realize with horror he’s not in his regular body. It’s a larger, hulking form of shaggy fur in muted brown and chestnut hues, dusted with black and grey into a slurry of fur. A fucking wolfman was not on your list. “Werewolf?”

- “Yeah.”

- “Considering our jobs — this isn’t all too horrifying.” He bares his teeth, canines glinting, “I take that back — somewhat.” Andre chuckles, darker but remains curled in on himself in the corner of the room, staying far away from you. “Why am I not supposed to be here sugar?” You ask softly, stepping hesitantly further into the room and eyeing him warily, unsure about the entirety of this situation and wishing Elliot fucking Mothman had better-prepped staff for other forms of cryptids.

- “‘cause I’ll fuck y’ and I won’t stop.” He growls out, nails digging into knees bare of clothing and covered in fur, “not safe f’you, I could hurt you.” He doesn’t meet your eyes this time, eyes turned away and trying to shrink as far as possible into the corner, wanting to keep you at bay before his senses and instincts took over and took you. Andre doesn’t see you, but he feels you in the room. The way you smell and he puffs of breath, the thud of your heart.

- so he immediately clocks the second your pulse races at his words and how your heart flutters, along with your cunt. Andres eyes snap back to you just in time to see a shy but sensual smile on your lips. “What if I want you to hurt me?” Is what he hears from your lips, and he forces himself to sit still, ignore the erection against his thigh and the urge to fuck you until your womb got stuffed to the brim and he got you knocked up. “You better mean that.”

- “oh,” you strip yourself of your shirt and other clothes swiftly, like a subtle strip tease but far smoother and graceful than anticipated, “I mean it. Show me how much you love me sugar, I can take it.” You walk over to the bed on the other side of the room, curling up against the pillows and grin, spreading your legs and exposing the entirety of yourself, eager to mark off this box on your sexlist checklist. “Fucking better.” Is what Andre responds with, rising slowly and missing the tall ceiling by merely a foot, taking his gangly form towards the bed and closing his eyes, sniffing visibly and having his body falter, your scent encompassing any logic he had left.

- “look at that,” he chitters, teeth making his grin a bit more daunting, “already spread for me. Cute. Now turn around.” Andre orders, lurking before the bed as you shift, resting on your folded forearms and raising your ass in the air. “Good,” he praises, a hand grazing your arched waist while he settles behind you, “couldn’t follow orders earlier, but that’s just because you were worried, hm? Going to be good f’me now. I know it.” Andre settles himself on his knees behind you, arms planted on either side of your torso and he leans atop you, breath fanning your ear as he teases you, makes the eager nerves alight as goosebumps trail across your bare, vulnerable form.

- “gonna’ let me fuck you? Let me bury my cock in your pretty cunt over and over until there’s nothing left in you but me?” He muses, erection tapping at your ass and feeling much heavier than what you’re used to. You hum, trusting him to take care of you and fuck you right. “Mhm, let you stuff me like a fuckin’ brood mare, now please, c’mon and fuck me Andre.” He swats your ass with his hand, watching the fat of it jiggle and your waist bend high, “don’t have to tell me twice.”

- You bite back a few comments the second he brushes his flared, sloped cockhead into the opening of your cunt, the tip alone bringing a stretch of pain. Burying your head in the pillows around your forearms, you mewl and whimper aloud tossing both your head and your ass back. Andre’s one hand is beside your torso to plant himself while the other is on your hip, guiding your hips back towards him so he can slowly enter and sink his cock into you. "Atta' babe" he croons, breath fanning across your back in a way that makes your spine tingle.

- He lets out a whine that huffs hot air across your spine, sinking in his cock as much as your cunt can fit, several inches still untended to between where the two of you meet. His balls brush your clit when he bottoms out, and he stills, Andre's restless lungs beating his chest into your back and you can feel him through and through. "Fuck, tight little cunt, gonna' fucking break it." Andre groans low and heady as he begins to rock back and forth, in a humping motion that sends his balls smacking into your clit with little pats, making you grateful a hand now plays underside and holds your belly while the other holds him up, your body on the precipice of collapse with the angle, the feeling, all of it.

- "fucking stuff me," you blurt, pathetically trying to rock your hips back into his and you cry out each time, bulbous cockhead nudging your cervix with each shift, feeling him in your guts, "breed me full, knock me up." These were words you had used previously during sex with him, the concept not being new, only to the situation at hand. With Andre being fueled by rampant urges and instincts, barely holding on, your words were like an on-switch that sends him immediately pressing you into the bed and snapping his hips roughly, snarling. into the skin of your neck like he's on a mission, and in a way, he is. Meant to mate.

- "ah, oh fuck, Andre." you keep crying out his name between crying out incoherencies, encompassed by the way he absolutely fucked the breath from your lungs, knocking everything out of you and then drawing it back in just as he slots in, and out of your drenched, dripping cunt, slick now sprawling from his dick and balls, your thighs, to the torn and tossed sheets beneath. There's a fleeting, barely conscious thought of now knowing why sex was called the beast with two backs, the words of Othello never even a full thought as you get plowed from behind.

- oh yeah, you were never going to leave him to deal with a full moon alone, not if this is what your good deeds and diligence get you - being bent over like a broodmare and fucked like it's a need to survive, to breathe. You are livin' good.

- "taking me so damn well, gonna' pump you full, fill you over and over until others no space inside that I haven't covered." he rambles, hurried and frenzied and deep in pitch, snapping his hips rapidly as the sound of skin slapping melts into a blur with the heavy pants and breaths, the snarls and moans and groans the two of you let out, animalistic and primal, fucking elite and top tier in your honest, raw-dogged opinion. "Gonna' give you a child, claim this fucking pussy, all of it, s'all mine."

- You groan out, burying your head in your forearms and feeling his weight atop you, the way he keeps bullying his giant dick into you and fucking you apart, working you like dough in the way he works you over. "Like that? Like me marking you up, being Andre's breeding bitch?" he snarls, sounding so potent in your ear where his head hovers, splayed across your back while his hips do the work.

-"Just feel that," he murmurs, hand pressing into the fat of your belly to press against where he thrusts into you, making you squeal into the pillows as he shows off, his demeanor so contrasting than how he usually is, even in a raging fuck, "gonna' fill you to the brim, baby, already stretching you wide. Belly full of me."

- "God, please — fuck," you're babbling, fucked out and quote literally drooling upon your forearms and the pillows holding your head up, as backing into his thrusts and mewling with the brush of his balls against your clit, everything wet and sloppy, "wanna' be bred, wanna' be yours — I wanna' be yours." Andre lets out snarling laughs, darker than abyssal skies, into your shoulder blades which he litters with nips and bites of sharp teeth, little pinpricks adding to the utter euphoria of getting absolutely pounded.

- "gonna cum, arent'ya?" he drawls, leaning to huff through his nose near your ear and you smell him, sex and musk and earthy amber, you wanna drown in it. "Go on, soak this cock so I can fuck you stupid." It takes a few thrusts later, but you do and you absolutely blackout, the world turning into a white canvas that slowly lifts as you feel Andre fucking into you, pace hurried and faltering as he babbles rapidly, stitching together curses and praise like an ornamental garland.

- Cum is absolutely pouring at that point, rivulets stuck in smears across your ass and thighs, drenching his balls and making them smack wetly against the mouth of your cunt. He's come already at least twice by the load of it and is working on a third orgasm that makes your ass ripple with the force behind his thrusts. "All mine, no one gets to see this, have this, my pretty mate." he's talking to just himself at this point, assuring insecurities while nearly fucking you through the mattress, hell it's a miracle the bedframe hasn't broken. Or the wall.

- You whimper and moan weakly, just taking it at this point because all you feel in your bones is the warmth of orgasmic bliss, full lethargy and no intent to move, feeling so sated and tender than you could simply pass away with a beaming, I just had sex grin that would out do anyone else's, besides Andre's. What plucks the strings of reality a bit is a moment his teeth latch onto your shoulder, marking rows of teeth into a bite marking you as his. He fucks you through it, coming with a shout of your name that is more of a gravelly howl than anything, cum literally flooding your cunt and dripping down everywhere, making a mess of everything.

- Andre's near whimpering, fucking into you weakly while his erection softens inside you, laying on top of your form before wrapping his arms around and having you both shift onto your sides, him spooning your considerably smaller form in his considerably sized state, completely enveloping you in his hold, warmth, and love, soothing your fucked-out and pumped-full state onto the precipice of slumber.

- "M'love you." he mutters into your neck, nuzzling against your pulse as his arms coil around your belly, ensuring you stay in his arms and snug around his dick, "love you too." is what you reply, sounding not like your own voice in the exhausted, airy lilt. It's the last thing you remember before being woken up in the morning to an apologetic and scruffy Andre, back to normal with a plate of breakfast in hand.

- "Andre, honey, we are definitely going to be doing that again."

Robotus Alpha-Beta: D E M O N

• songs: Devil’s Advocate - The Neighborhood or Have A Cigar - Pink Floyd

• fanart: by @olexxx right here

- you’re desperate, and tired of calling after things in the light and day that don’t answer. You now call out for and beg for something from the night, standing in the crossroads with a box of offerings in your hands and a plea so heavy on your tongue it weighs you down like an anchor to a boat, dividing the seas currents in cleaverlike strokes. Crying out into the night, screaming for an answer, yelling out that you’ve done the right things brought the right stuff, made the right calls, you’re frustrated and distressed in the middle of this night, clad in clothing that the wind whips around your form, slinky against your chest and thighs. You’re a vision of desperation in this witching hour, and who would he be to deny your broken-hearted, bargaining pleas?

- “mighty pathetic looking, aren’t you, pretty thing.” He strolls out from the tree line, hands in his pockets of the seersucker suit he wears, hiding his eyes in the shadows while he meanders his way over dirt path and dandelions, plants dying in the markers where his footprints lay. “Pray tell, what brings you to my spacious lay of the woods?” He drones, and you’re too consumed in your own ordeals to fully analyze his appearance and demeanor, ready to bargain and barter down to the bones should it go that far.

- “I just wanna’ deal. That’s all.” You start, laying the tin box down on the ground between the two of you where you stand in the clay dirt and ash of the crossroad, pitch black sans the one flickering, sad looking streetlamp. “What will you take for sparing someone’s life?” Is what comes from your lips next, and he’s almost surprised at the dedication you show in selflessness, musing to himself in the ongoing internal dialogue that you should get one of those flimsy gold stars.

- “Depends on a lot my dear,” the demon drawls, hands gesturing in a manner that reminds you of evangelical television preachers or cable game show hosts, “who am I curing and what ails your beloved patient?” He picks the dirt from his fingernails and you wish you pry out the nails from that tin box you got from a coffin, and force them one by one into his skull for his nonchalance, his disinterest in a deal that meant more than the world to you.

- “my friend, she’s sick. Cancer. I want her cured and for her to live a healthy life and die naturally of old age. What will you accept in exchange?” You’re direct, straight and to the point, shoulders squared and eyes flint and steel, fire flickering in the shards of your irises. Refusing to let him abuse a loophole, you’ve stressed every requirement and plan — ramming the nails in straight. “Straight to the point, I like that.” He drawls, crooked grin smarmy and slimy in the snake oil style, making you envision car dealerships and the price is right but shrouded in brimstone and fire. “The question isn’t what I’ll ask of you, but what you’re willing to offer, dear.”

- he claps his hands together, a MontBlanc pen appearing in his hand and a weathered paper, looking older than your entire bloodline in the way it looks like if the wind blew a fraction harsher, it’d disintegrate. “Alright pet, lay your offers on the table and I’ll see what I’ll accept — but remember,” the demon before you with sky blue eyes pauses, looking like a walking business advert with his suit and tie, shiny cufflinks and a glittering Patek Philippe watch, “no promises.”

- you bite back the myriad of things you’d like to say to this bastard in human flesh-trimmings, but you need your friend more than anything. She’s your world. You’d give your own up for her, and you plan to do exactly that. “My entire self —“ he raises his brows, lips splitting into an amused grin and attempts to interrupt, but you wave a hand and fix him a look, the don’t fuck with me while I’m talking stare, “for part of the week, for the rest of my natural, long and healthy life. You’ll get Tuesday through Thursday, and I will be free to do what I wish the remainder of the week, every week. Sans holidays which I get to myself.”

- he’s still smiling as if it’s within the job application but looks about as pained as if he’s suddenly contracted a bout of irritable bowel syndrome. “And you’re completely mine the entirety of those three days, the full 72 hours?” You nod, face as polished as stone, equally as cold and ungiving. Hes never encountered a wayward soul like yours. Intrigue mars his mind more that he’d care to admit, but it makes the results of bartering so much better. “We have a deal then.”

- he scrawls in loopy old fashioned cursive, slanted and sloped in a manner that reminds you of history class, and fills in the blanks of his document signing your life away to him. He flattens the paper, then signs it himself and hands it to you to sign as well. You spot the larger A and B initials, shortened to AB, but can’t make out the last name, only the large R and the mussed squiggles behind it. Doctorish scrawl, hasty and impatient.

- you sign your signature and life away, not regretting it the instant you get a series of texts from your friend, her energy and liveliness returning in an instant. You pocket your phone then get dragged forward by the elbows, calloused fingertips and softened palms cup your cheeks before drawing you into a fleeting kiss. He pulls away and before you can act, he vanishes in a cloud of ash and dust, the contract within your grip and an emptied tin box at your feet. A kiss to seal the deal.

- you don’t see him until the next week, spending your time with your loved ones and with your best friend, cherishing and relishing in how she’s safe and healthy again and she would always be. The chime of reality rings twelve times, the man appearing in a click of loafers against the tile floors outside your apartment and wraps of his knuckles against the front door, coming to collect you. You’re alone and have been, making sure to be in the comfort of solitude once your first day as a demon’s bitch begins. AB opens the door and strolls in, hands in the pockets of some pinstripe slacks and a chain dangling from near his hand to a slim pocket on his suit vest, thin white stripes against navy fabric making his already tall form elongate.

- the demon struts in with the casual air of devil-may-care, eyes like a cats in how they’re languid but attentive, drawing everything in and sitting until something interesting pulls his direct attention forth. “Quite a home you’ve got here, just you?” AB muses, sauntering with the air of a spoiled house cat. “Yes, just me, now can we get on with whatever you have entailed for my next 72 hours, the suspense Y’know, got me absolutely hooked.” You respond, end of your sentence dripping in sarcasm like a freshly immersed pen nib into an inkwell and equally as dark.

- “impatient too, aren’t you just a bag of tricks,” he muses, lulling and faux cadence in a demon's silver tongue taste, “all in due time. Best to wait and see you squirm.” AB stands before a bookcase, fingertips tapping along spines of books then dusting over a picture frame with your friend, weary Polaroids paling in comparison to this snapshot of her and you several years ago, faces lit in the warmth of lanterns in summer sunset. He holds it longer than he’d deem appropriate, and he doesn’t seem to care or know why.

- “are you always this articulate or does it come with the Armani suit?” You snap, knee bouncing as you sit on the couch, lips chapped from how frequently you’ve gnawed on them in your nervous state, wanting to lose your sanity but unfortunately finding yourself incredibly lucid and stable. Against all odds. “Naturally, pretty thing, some creatures possess decorum and manners — I see you speak from inexperience.” He teases, setting the frame down and wiping his hands on his slacks, adjusting the cufflinks that glitter with initials laid in obsidian and platinum.

- He continues speaking, giving you no opening once more to speak or further deride the demon before you, meandering about your home as if he was not just showing the place, but was trying to sell it as a realtor and making the process as painfully personal as possible. "Do you have a tendency to get squeamish or easily frightened?" "I doubt it, due to how there's a demon I'm casually conversing with, so I'm going to have to say no."

- He chuckles darkly, and you see a glimmer in those glacier eyes of something far colder, and you mark it down for later. "Clever, but such a costly trait. Mind your tongue." You sit and take it in stride, having been braced for an overgrown petulant toddler playing around in daddy's suits. "Since you're being so patient," he mocks, he rolls his sleeves to the forearms after shucking off his jacket and snapping it away in a move that makes you think of hammerspace, "we'll get started. You are to shadow me as I go about dealing. Mind your tongue, presence, and entire demeanor. You are here to help me, gain insight on a modern human mind and soul, not to aid anyone but me due to how I control something far greater than your own life."

- He doesn't hesitate to gut you in the way you've been hung out to dry, hollowed like a side of beef swinging from a hook in a walk-in freezer, dripping onto a frozen floor in tandem with your bravado slipping. AB glances over your expression and smiles, childish and juvenile in a charming, redeemable fratboy sort of way. "Alrighty, now let's get you started."

- and with a snap of his fingers, the two of you began the first day of deals. It flew by, as they all would, you watching from the sidelines or removed from sight to watch as a deal went down. You could clock the bastards who were overly cocky, thinking they could outsmart someone so much older than them it was like the universe looking upon Earth's moon. Planet to sand grains. Pathetic - no match.

- the souls would fade one by one and you would spend your hours prior to the deal observing them from the outskirts in strangers behaviors, deception now a part of your ensemble in equal to your rings or shirt. "Did you observe me before we struck my deal?" you had asked later on in the duration of your servitude, roughly a year into your partial work weeks under the eye and lens of the demon. He laughed, a chiding yet lilting sound that resembled when storm clouds rumbled when the sun still shone, "Oh absolutely I did, my dear, quite entertaining and almost heartwrenching the way you went about your plans. Absolutely precious."

- AB speaks over his cocktail, Pappy Van Winkle bourbon dark and syrupy in the basin of his Waterford crystal glass, sliding about the thick ice cube like molasses, "I will say you have been the most entertaining of my companions in a long time." The way he says it lingers and you assume it's longer than you could perceive, centuries being seconds to the being beside you. It is a fleeting moment of wistfulness before he clocks his newest wayward soul and stalks forward, running a hand through his hair and barely messing his strands up, the greying streaks in his auburn hair falling upon his forehead like a staged motion, queued up to go for a movie scene.

- You tried not to watch more than you needed to when having to help him with his deals, but this time in the low light of a seedy corner alley bar, he glittered like the cufflinks he always wore. Dark obsidian and platinum, simple yet something so potent about it resembled him. If you hadn't sold your life away to the entity, he'd resemble a side character from American Psycho, far too charming to make it into the main role. It was harder to hate him than how he looked, the manner in which you dealt your days away gave you your friend back and a more stable life, albeit the hellish tasks.

- You didn't quite care for how much you cared for him, why you get enamored with him and all that he encompassed. It was disastrous and bordering a Stockholm syndrome, or at least that's what you told yourself when indulging in ice cream and childhood movies. What worsened your situation was an event that occurred in your off hours, out with friends and enjoying yourself in a night of freedom and levity. It went wrong, as you assumed it could, but had not expected the situation to unfold as it had nor the end result to your night.

- "I still don't understand, you crushing on your boss? Understandable, not doing shit about it, perplexes the fuck outta' me." Rory, a friend from high school mentions and brought a series of laughs from your booth at the club. "It's improper-" You're suddenly cut off. "Since when did you ever give a shit about proper?" another friend chimes in, and you sigh before downing the remnants of the drink before you. You get up, go to the bar to get a drink and avoid the terrible topic along with trying to escape the environment altogether. It's not your scene, too loud and overwhelming. It gets even worse after the initial sips of your drink when the world turns hazy and you don't know where you're going, nor whos leading you away.

- "Move them this way, out of the light - there, I told you no one was going to find us here." one of the two figures surrounding your hazy, barely conscious form voices, the other laughing along as they work at your shirt before a dark laugh comes from the opening of the alley, and a glint of polished silver meets the glare of a streetlamp. Its something out of a noir film but you're relieved when you hear his voice, trying to sit up and failing. His name falls from your lips, faint and sad sounding, and his glacier eyes melt away into a darkness never seen before even in the furthest of depths within the oceans.

- It takes no time for him to dispatch the two who had drugged you, the rage pouring off of him in waves you can almost see, even in your bleary state. It's as if someone coated your brain in a fog and dipped it in some liquid nitrogen. "Oh, pretty thing, what have they done to you." is what he says when he crouches near your form, bloodstained but almost holy, a savior without wings. You try and answer but he shushes you, lifting you into his arms securely with the strength beneath his tall, barrel-chested form. The two of you dissipate from the alley and leave behind blood trails no one will find, bodies gone as well to languish on hooks in rings of hellfire AB will personally see to.

- The next thing you recall after being saved up in his arms is waking in a bed far too luxurious to be your own, and enveloped in silky sheets and even silkier pajamas, deep navy blue wrapped around your form so comfortably you just snuggle back into the pillows before you fully wake to reality with a start, remembering what almost happened and sitting up, flying out of bed and wandering out to figure out where the fuck you were.

- "there you are, dear, feeling okay?" is what greats you, AB sitting at a couch reading from a book that once again looks more ancient than your entire bloodline, genuine concern feeding into his expression and making you blink, sleep still laden in your heavy eyelids begging you to go back to sleep. "You saved me." he shrugs off your comment, rising to meet your form in the doorway and taking you by the shoulders, trying to turn you around back into the bed you left. "Go on to bed, I'll bring you something-" he fixes you a look, "its an order, go rest. Your loved ones know you're safe and sound. Now, bed."

- You fall back asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, and the next time you wake there's a change of clothes on a chair near the bed, a plate of food on the nightstand, and a pitcher of water with clean glasses readily available. In no rush, you take your time eating and then getting ready before padding barefoot out into the home you find yourself in, spotting AB finally in a kitchen you'd drool over in an issue of Architectural Digest. "There you are, rested?" you nod, cupping your glass of water in your hands and seating yourself down at a barstool beside the kitchen island, glancing around at the sprawling chef's kitchen, "they've been taken care of." AB trails off, in a casual button-down and slacks, leaning against the countertop with his arms crossed over his chest, taking a second before he looks over at you with steely, ice eyes.

- "No harm will ever come to you." your brows furrow at that, wondering why he would care so much about a person he literally owns. You voice it out loud and he guffaws, looking at you incredulously as if the answer was always there, and in a way, it had been. "Dear, you're mine. Contract bound and now, by design. No one ever lays a hand on you let alone exists a second afterwards." The glass in your hand is set down and you lean back in your chair, staring at him and wondering if the entirety of the past months of partnership you were not the lone one pining. He validates it when he approaches and falters, warming once you breach the gap and take his hand into your smaller one.

- You finally break, grasping for him and hugging him close as his bulkier form bends to hold you, knees bent in order to acclimate to your seated position. He rubs your back as you shudder and shake, warm broad hands soothing you down and facing you until he kneels and looks up at you. "I promise you, you're safe." and you want to say you believe him, but you still don't feel it, just take his hand off your knee and imbed it into your heart so he can feel how it beats, how the fear creeps into your lungs like an infection. there's no need, for he cups your cheek and tilts your chin to meet his gaze. Then it's over.

- the waiting ends, and he kisses you, tender and delicate and something so utterly unlike him that it takes you aback, almost slack-jawed for a millisecond before you realize it's him kissing you and you relish in it, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him closer until he's caged you in, safe from harm. He groans, and you part your legs at the sound, letting him fully press against you in the chair and wrap around you. "My pretty thing." AB groans against your lips, and you whimper at the sound of it so broken on his tongue, so different than the calculated and meticulous tone he took.

- "Prove it" is what flies from your lips as you bite his, feeling him grin darkly against your mouth as he lifts you into his, different from the bridal carry form the other night with how he hefts a handful of your ass into his palms while your legs wrap around his waist while he carries you into the other room. "Gladly." is whispered once he deposits you into a lavish dark bed, his own, and strips himself of his shirt and bares a chest scattered in auburn hair matching in grey streaks like his head, making you wonder about what lies lower.

- He doesn't make you wait long, and he strips himself of his boxers and pants, planting himself above you and grinning at how you observe his body and movements, letting you gasp in surprise once he lets a shudder roll through and some red markings reveal themselves, cuffs and bands of red marks paired with inscriptions of languages so old they outdated writing itself. You trace a few as he undresses you, mouth over them lavishly and kiss them tenderly, trying to show and give all the love you can to make up for what he's missed.

- "Never going to let anyone touch you," he murmurs, breathless against your skin as if he's the one rendered weak before you, "only mine, m'all yours. Gonna' keep you safe and sound." AB's wrecked already and he's hardly touched you let alone himself, the evidence leaking and resting heavily upon your now bare thigh. You feel not just safe and content, but powerful and hungry, greedy for what lies within arms reach. You get granted a freedom in his presence finally, and you take every step in stride.

- "All mine," purrs your voice in his ear, tugging on auburn locks and feeling your body thrum like musical cords when he groans low and deep, reverberating from a barrel chest that covers your form, "going to make me feel good? Treat me right, make a mess of me? Show me just how much you actually care and that I'll always be yours? Go ahead, AB, give me your all."

- "All?" he growls darkly against the column of your throat, nearly snarling if it wasn't for the pleased smirk present with teeth with slight points, "oh dearest, ask for more, don't you know I'd give you everything?" he murmurs low stripping you fully bare and letting rough and calloused palms from another lifetime's work wander your body, mapping out your skin like a cartographer. At that moment the words were euphoric enough, but his hips grinding against yours until he slotted against your weeping cunt was the emphasis to your already wavering body, the final blow to your grip on reality. Oh, what a plunge it was.

- AB rocks against you, forehead knelt down against your collarbone in a piousness akin to prayer and nudges his swollen cock against your cunt, hips grinding once, twice, before he slides into you and fills you. It's a stretch that makes you cry out, nails embedded in his skin near his markings as you whimper and cry out his name. Your chest squirms and your hips remain stilled, his broad hands encompassing your hips as he does so. With his head against your shoulder, he gets to see himself disappear into your slick-soaked pussy, and the sight is too moving for his eyes to handle. Thumbs bruise your hipbones while he stills then asks you questions he repeats several times before you process them, already hazy and fucked out and he hadn't even actually fucked you yet.

- "May I move?" your body reacted before you could even form a response, legs shifting so you can take him in deeper and fuck up back onto him, nearly squealing out as you feel him absolutely stuff your cunt, walls clenching and sending the both of you into a hurried frenzy. "There's your answer." you bite, literally and figuratively as your teeth sink into his ear. His hips stutter and you smirk, so proud of yourself before locking your legs and rolling him beneath you, still seated on his cock but now residing on top, beaming down at him with your hands planted on his marked, hair-covered chest.

- You don't even warn him before you slam your hips down, relishing in how he jolts and buckles, eyes shutting then opening back up, so torn between the feel of you and how you look, an angel of his own making seated above him and using him like a throne, getting yourself off and being nothing short of resplendent. AB thrusts his hips up to meet your grinds and ministrations, one hand splayed across your ribcage while the other snakes down to rub at your clit, beaming with pride when he feels you shudder and falter.

- "You're so pretty." comes broken from the demon beneath you, reduced to merely a man with the way you use him, treat him, love him and fuck him all at once, centuries worth of longing packed away emerging forth into glacier eyes now as warm as spring skies, and the look he gives you sends you over the edge as a crushing blow. He catches you, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you as the orgasmic, earth-shattering waves take you under. He anchors you, falteringly weak thrusts getting him to where you are in seconds, cumming and stuffing you full with a cracking groan against your heated flesh.

- He holds you, sitting upright with his arms wound around your torso and holding tight, hands splayed across your back and side as your head nestles into the crook of his, nose at his pulse and smelling hints of rosemary and bergamot and ash, and you burrow closer, wanting to sink into him like bed, he's more comforting than down comforters and pillows anyhow. It takes a while before the witness behind your eyes fades, his humming being what plucks you forth from an orgasmic abyss and you smile against his skin, soaking up the silence and him breaking it.

- "About that contract-" you joke, and AB laughs breathlessly before turning to you with a devious smirk, hands wandering and eliciting a squeaking moan from your lips, "I think I'd be open to renogiation." he murmurs, breath fanning across your mouth before your lips meet his and he hums, licking into your mouth and staking claim to it just as he had you.

Magic Myc: Z O M B I E

• song: Under My Skin - Jukebox The Ghost

- You'd been there when Myc's dead body got carted in. There were more people making jokes, cruelly grateful for his absence compared to the small group that actually missed him, and mourned him. And you were one of the very few who loved him enough to grieve his loss in such a manner it would even overpower the longing of the moon should it ever lose the sun and stars.

- He wasn't everyone's taste, hell, he was barely your taste. But you still loved him anyway and trying to work, eat, and live without him got harder and harder since he got eradicated from your life as swiftly as one strikes down a cleaver against a cutting board, final, irreversible. Permanent.

- You had thankfully been granted leave, getting enough pitying looks to send you to the comforts of home only to realize that home made it worse. All his things were there, little knickknacks and gag gifts Myc had gathered over the years, polaroids taped to the walls with glimpses of misadventures. One that gutted you the most was a picture of you, Andre, and Myc, the two of you smiling wide while Myc lifted the two of you up for the picture, all flipping off the camera and laughing like hyenas.

- Andre had been a rock of support, the two of you leaning on each other to cope and work through the loss, not knowing how to handle the loss, Andre losing a best friend and you losing a lover. It crushed you, the chasm of grief and depression consuming you whole, entangling your ankles and dragging you down in the depths like being snared in a siren's trap.

- the point where you broke down wholly and entirely, letting out ugly cries with the snot and tear tracks, getting puffy with reddened eyes in the freedom of your home. A formerly shared home is now all yours. The brownstone mocked you, once an inviting and fun space now too bright and whimsical to be fitting for one mourning a lover. A friend. A soulmate.

- in the midst of your breakdown and rattling full-body tremors, you don't hear the back door locks slowly turn one by one, the keys only belonging to one person, long dead. You don't hear something entering your home and locking back up, in the perfectly redundant routine that belonged to an everyday pattern. You don't hear Myc return into your life because you're too busy crying about him leaving it.

- "I leave for five seconds and you've already gone batshit - damn and I thought I had problems" his voice startles you, making you nearly fall off of the couch when you whip your head around to stare at him, eyes wide and mouth agape in disbelief. "You're not real." is the first thing you utter, terrified to move in case the illusion your grief-wracked mind conjured would dissipate and vanish, leaving you alone in your loss and the empty house, pathetic and sad enough to best a wet kitten.

- "You'd think that, but here I am, alive and unwell." Myc responds, sarcasm prominent but still an underlying fond tone only belonging to him comes out. It's rougher, dirtier almost in a backroad gravel kind of way like his vocal cords got tossed through a concrete mixer. "Gonna' say hello or what?" he teases, gesturing with a tendril or two and extending them, wanting a hug from his favorite person. You practically leap over the back of the couch in an effort to reach him, launching yourself into his body and nestling your head on the underside of the mushroom cap, feeling fanning gills brush the top of your head in addition to the bulbous partial veil that glows and humms against your head.

- He still smells like earth and musk, pollen and petals. and weed, and you've never been more relieved to smell the absolutely pungent aroma of weed in your life, laughing while you cry into where his neck would be. "You think I would just ditch you? No way, stuck with me for the rest of your little life, shitheel." Myc mutters, bumping your nose tenderly with a blunt nudge of a tendril, making your nose scrunch and a smile appear on your puffy, crying face.

- "wait, how are you even here?" you ask, leaning your head back enough to look at him in the dim light of your home, shadows cast over his form and hiding the majority of it sans little segments and divots of bioluminescence and ornate patterns. "You died Myc, how in the fuck are you even alive?"

- he doesn't immediately answer, and you step back to pace with a hand running down your face, immediately ranting and getting wrapped up in the concept of Cognito Inc. doing another stupid and silly science project without considering ramifications and wondering just how this will blow up once more when it concerns the love of your life, Myc.

- when he's remained silent, not saying a word in the midst of your rant about Reagan and how she's got to stop playing god, you realize he hasn't said a word and turn to find him standing very still and looking down to his tentacles as if in deep thought. Worrying, consuming, deep thought.

- "I-," he starts, moving to turn in your direction, almost looking past you, or through you, making your anger fade as concern takes over, "I don't know."

- You haven't been this worried in a long, long time. "Honey, what do you mean you don't know?" Your concern multiplies, swarming nervous moths within the cage of a chest you have, fluttering in your ribcage and making your bones itch. "Myc, do you remember getting here?".

- the uncharacteristic silence speaks enough volumes to have filled a home library, making you send a few hurried texts to the gang group chat and ignoring the silly contact names in lieu of finding a solution to this as fast as possible and trying to keep Myc stable. You turn and flick a lamp on, unable to find reason in the darkness, and barely stop the scream that almost fled your throat.

- "I just wanted to see you, I don't know how I got here-" he pauses, unaware of the terror in your eyes and the tears welling along the seams of your lower lids, threatening to overflow with the sight of him, "I just wanted you."

- You wish you were crying for other reasons beyond the sight of him, maybe even some happy tears with how he came to you because he loves you, dragged his undead self all the way to your backdoor to you.

- You cry instead at the state of him, the chunks of flesh and tissue missing, the greenish ghastly hue to his surface, tears and gouges in places where his body's mass would fill. He is dead. undead technically, and in your shared home's living room sounding close to tears himself with how confused he sounds and you're just about to break down at how butchered he looks. He is yours, and he was supposed to be fine always. Why did this happen, and why to your Myc.

- He says your name, and it is so broken it doesn't suit him. Myc's a jovial, mocking asshole that makes you feel loved, even with pet names accompanied by curse words and expletives. You respond to a few more texts and enlist the help of Reagan and ask Andre and him to come immediately. You barely have the energy to continue standing, so you absolutely don't have the strength to deal with this alone.

- You gather him close, sitting the two of you down on the couch and just try and breathe, sit there with each other and pretend things will all be okay and wait in the meantime for Reagan and Andre to appear in order to get some ideas going on what to do or how to go about this entire situation, the others on standby and there for support should you need it. You've never been more thankful for the friends you have.

- "M'not going to leave you." Myc says, determination steady within his now weathered voice, as if it was skinned and tanned like an animal hide in the sun, "I don't wanna' go." Your hands grip him tighter as your fingertips trace over patterns and textures on his surface, humming a note against the light within his partial veil beneath the cap.

- "Nothing could take me from you, and I won't let anything take you from me either." is what you choose to comfort him with, knowing that humor was a strong suit and that comedy wasn't something to include just yet, reality to raw to disinfect with the sting of punchlines.

- Andre and Reagan soon arrive, disbelief covering their features the instant they enter the door and a litany of questions follow with Andre's tears as he and Myc hug, bubbly watery giggles erupting forth from both him and you at the relief. Reagan pokes and prods, then takes notes from what you could tell, and remains as confused as you are.

- after a while and many frustrating moments, the two leave back to their respective lives. Andre promises to come the next day and Reagan plans to run tests bright and early tomorrow. Nevertheless, the night is yours with him and the two of you alone. You try and make the best of it by familiarizing yourself with the way it felt to be enveloped with Myc, to feel those tendrils around your frame holding you close.

- and as with all things with Myc, it turned sexual suddenly and rapidly, making you appreciate his ease in removing you from a current situation with his attention, touch, and care. A gift tethered in mycelial networks and fungi.

- the two of you don't even make it to the bedroom, Myc being so eager to have you in any which way, he fucks you on the floor against the plush living room carpet, letting you know how thankful he is for your precious ass in his life (both literally and figuratively) as he fucks you to delirium.

- next thing you know, you have his voice in your ear while two tendrils splay your bare thighs open, tentacles notched in the crook of your knee and thigh as he pumps the tips of three appendages in and out of you, commenting and praising you for how slick you are and how welcoming your cunt is to him, like a homecoming once your greedy pussy sucks him in like even your spongy inner walls missed him.

- "god you're so fucking wet, all for me right? getting all gushy and messy for me only." his words hit just the right buttons, perched and murmured right beside your ear as he thrums, twisting the tips of his appendages within you and barely showing signs of him being affected. The two little tendrils that have collected droplets of slick tease and prod at your ass, occasionally breaching the tight ring of muscle and allowing Myc the pleasure of hearing that broken, higher pitched cry you moaned out with his name on your tongue, grinding into his ministrations and begging for more.

- "mhmm, all for you Mikey," you moan softly, brokenly, in a way so soft it competes against battered butterfly wings, "all yours, always yours, even m'pussy." He laughs, fucking you harder at that like a reward, groaning happily and letting the waves of pleasure spread rather than him holding back and halting his own enjoyment. Now he can fuck you.

- “damn fucking straight.” He curses, fucking you with earnest while he sits behind you, feeling flush and warm while he feels you tense and clench around him. Then follow suit once he breaches your ass, fucking into you shallowly and slowly there, easing himself in and loving the way your jaw falls slack and your hips seem to have a mind of their own. You prop your feet at an angle and use it to better fuck yourself on the makeshift cock and tendrils of Myc’s appendages, loving how you felt him in both holes and stuffed full, practically gushing around him and soaking the couch cushion beneath the two of you.

- good thing they’re washable.

-“all mine, always gonna’ be mine.” He mutters, movements stuttering as he nears orgasm but tries to hold out, “my baby gonna’ let me stuff them full? Until it leaks, hm?” You nod, voicing a yes against the skin of his closest to you and cry out once his tendrils brush at your cervix as you grind down and thrust back and forth against him.

- “please Myc, wanna’ cum, want your cum, want you to make me feel good.” You drawl in a plead, hands smoothing over him beneath you and sliding up and down his cock, reaching a hand to play with your clit until he smacks it away and replaces it with an appendage and shakily strokes and he gets closer to cumming. He shakes beneath you, Myc shuddering and stuttering once he voices his nearing euphoria.

- he cums, flooding your cunt and having it spill forth, pollock-like flecks of cum splattering your inner thighs and allowing you to slide better and take him in, cumming shortly after with a scream of his name and an orgasm that lasted nearly a solid minute, senses gone and world as white as fresh snowfall.

- there’s silence for a moment, your back resting against his front, tendrils not still inside you caressing and tending to your sweaty, tired body. “Hey, hon?” He draws you out of your reverie to turn to look at him, “pretty good for a dead man.”

- “fuck off, dear god.”

- Myc cackles and leans back into the couch cushions and pillows, and the joy that thrums in your heart soothes the ache of his death, loving him in any state, even when he’s being a little shit.

—Happy Halloween—

Tags: @cognitosclowns @radioactivebowtie @mollicutes @carnalcringe @bluebaronness @flyingspicerack

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urfavoritegirls · 1 year

Note

cuddling headcanons w brett and andre ? :3 love ur theme btw

✮ CUDDLING HEADCANONS (ANDRE + BRETT) ✮

thank you anon also first request!

cw: drug stuff (andre lol), sfw

ANDRE LEE

✮ he would love cuddling up against you after work or during work

✮ just anywhere tbh

✮ your his favorite pillow

✮ prefers being big spoon but wouldnt say no to you holding him

✮ i feel like hes one of those people that would aggressively sniff the moment you cuddle against him

✮ (you just smell really nice to him)

✮ for the long hair readers he will try to braid your hair

✮ "andre your just twisting it like a candy cane"

✮ also could stay like that for hours

✮ hungry? he has candy in his pocket. thirsty? wow he pulls out a flask full of water from his jacket. he just spawns them out of nowhere

✮ yall are that one couple that cant keep their hands off each other

✮ just one thing is that you will never cuddle in his office

✮ even he knows its a little too dirty

✮ personally likes cuddling on the couch after eating a edible watching a shitty movie

✮ laying all over your body

✮ who needs blankets when we have andre

BRETT HAND

✮ please hold him

✮ little spoon preferably but if you want him to hold you he will gladly say yes

✮ always facing you so he could look at your face

✮ cuddling in his pyjamas are his favorite

✮ one of those people that wear sweatpants to bed

✮ always hums a little song when you guys cuddle

✮ loves talking to you about literally anything that comes to his mind

✮ "did you know cotton lasts for 100 years so lil' brett could possibly outlive us"

✮ also enjoys talking about his day to you, even if you where there

✮ goes on side tangents a lot

✮ he likes keeping water by the bed so he doesn't have to get up from your embrace

✮ he prefers cuddling in his or your bed under the covers all warm

✮ play with his hair he loves the feeling

✮ just loves being in your arms

sorry these are short im tired

#inside job #brett hand #inside job x reader #andre lee #andre x reader #andre lee x reader #brett hand x reader #brett x reader #cuddling #inside job headcanon #headcanons #inside job headcanons

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insidereagan · 2 years

Text

“reagan ridley is autistic,” I say into the mic.

The crowd boos. I begin to walk off in shame when a voice speaks and commands silence from a corner.

“They’re right,” they say. I look for the owner of the voice. There in the 2nd row is Shion Takeuchi, creator of inside job.

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blatantlackofdecorum · 1 year

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do you write for multiple characters at once? liek simple headcannons but w a few characters included? if not just ignore this but if you do what about ron, brett, and / or andre (feel free to pick who u wanna write for lol) with a Short™️ reader ? i really love what you've posted so far :P

I do! of course, and thank you!! I’m including height headcanons for everyone too.

Brett Hand

- brett stands at around 6′2″ or 74 inches. he’s the second tallest of the three, but has always been a little intimidated by anyone taller than him. so he mentions it less than ron does. - the type of man to buy you stools for your kitchen if he see’s you struggling to get anything. he won’t even mention it to you, but some days you randomly notice a lot of unannounced furniture. if he see’s something starting to wear or tear, he’ll just get you a new one. call him irresponsible with his money all you want, he just wants to make things easier for you. - oh the hugs are supreme. whether he’s checking in on you at work or simply just gotten home, draping his arms across your waist and hugging you from behind, to his chest has to be one of his favorite things. you could practically use him as a pillow and he’d still just be happy to have you with him. - would not hesitate to pick you up if needed. piggy back rides? he’s literally built for it, need to grab something high up? he’s right there without a second thought. he does tend to lay out his house a bit differently when the two of you start dating, if he knows you’ll be over he sets out any coffee supplies you could need on his counter so you don’t have to stress over it in the morning. - he does worry though, he knows you can take care of yourself but, if someone hurt you, especially while he wasn’t there, he couldn’t live with himself. just a little more cautious about your safety, (will splurge on any self defense tool you could ask for) he will not hesitate to get weirdly protective the second someone so much as looks at you wrong. - will occasionally call you short or shorty, but if he ever sensed it making you uncomfortable he’d stop. if he knows you well enough, he’s able to read you like a book. very hypervigilant.

Ron Staedtler

- ron is definitely the tallest of the three at a staggering 6′4″ or 76 inches. he’s also definitely the one that mentions it the most. he’s used to being the tallest person in the room, but he is such a tease.

- this man spends most of his time with you in his arms in some form or another. pda is already a strong-suit of his. leaning his head on your shoulder while you’re working? his fingers laced with his or his arm snaked around your shoulder? he loves it. can’t get enough of it. - definitely holds stuff above your head, waits for you to reach up and kisses you when you do. that’s practically his favorite move, and he pulls it off quite well every-time. he’s a pain in the ass but he really does love you.. he does get over affectionate sometimes, so prepare to be occasionally smothered in pecks. - will just grab stuff off shelves for you if needed, don’t think you won’t get a chuckle or two out of him as he does though. (if you get tired of his shenanigans and climb on the counter though he’ll cheer you on regardless)

- i’d say you get scary dog privileges but he’s more mildly concerning if anything. that being said if anyone ever tried to mess with you, they can prepare for an awful surprise when he stumbles upon it. he’s a nice guy but he knows how to kick some serious ass.

- very soft, will spoon the living hell out of you, (and doesn’t really have a preference between big spoon or little spoon) on one hand being coddled does feel pretty nice, and the other, he gets to wrap around you.. win win.

Andre Lee

- andre is our shortest member of the three, at 5′9″ or 69 inches, 😌 this only means that he isn’t used to people being much shorter than him in relationships, which means he’ll definitely notice it more. - he finds he actually does like being the taller one, but he is not nearly as showoffish as ron. if he sees you struggling to reach something? he’ll grab it for you. it was originally how the two of you met, you were struggling to grab a coffee cup from the top shelf of one of the cognito kitchens, and he noticed. not wanting to be awkward he grabbed it and delivered it to your desk.. than realized he made it a bit more awkward. - prepare for a lot of time spent with his head resting on yours, especially if he's tired. he falls asleep holding you a lot ( otherwise he tends to have trouble staying asleep) usually leaving you half awake and tangled in limbs. not that you really mind it. - might crack a few more jokes about it if he’s high, but he usually has a higher standard for humor than that, (absolute lie, if you so much as say ball around him he’ll giggle like a mad man) bad habit. if anyone else ever jokes about it though prepare to be lectured, only he can make fun of his s/o - would not hesitate to provide you platforms or heels if you were insecure (or dysphoric) about your height, but he thinks it’s just a part of you and won’t hesitate to remind you of that. prepare for him bragging over his perfect partner anytime you mention feeling insecure. - he’s just stupid in love with you, your height will never change that. <3

#inside job #brett hand #brett hand inside job #brett hand x reader #inside job brett #brett inside job #ron staedtler #ron staedtler inside job #ron staedtler x reader #inside job ron #ron inside job #andre lee #andre lee inside job #inside job andre #andre inside job #andre lee x reader #inside job headcanon #inside job headcanons

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msg4andre · 1 year

Text

random inside job hcs (NSFW)

Contains: fem!reader, hair pulling, cock warming, degrading, making out, oral sex (fem receiving.) Gramatical mistakes (did not read through this so this is coming from my mind RAW) lingerie, nsfw shit lol.

• Reagan gets wet really easily. You found this out the day you two…

…were making out in her lab, hands all over each-other and you pinning her against the door. Your knee came up to Reagan’s crotch to which she immediately begin grinding on it, small groans of pleasure cascading out of her lips. You watched intently as her already wet panties darkened with more of her essence, the black fabric stuck to her pussylips and outlining that beautiful shape.

When you and Andre begun dating he let it slip that he wanted you to sit on his face. When you finally let him, he eat like it’s his final meal. Andre whimpers, bucking his hips and murmuring about how much he loves how you taste, coaxing a string of moans as he sucks on your puffy clit. You swear to the heavens that he’s dying down there but when you try to give him some air he whines and immediately pulls you back down, tongue darting at your folds.

I know I said I don’t write dom!characters but I genuinely do not see Gigi being a sub. Gigi is a hair puller, if you’re eating her out and break eye contact she’ll pull on your hair and make you look at her. If you’re bratty she will not hesitate to call you out, she’ll edge you till no tomorrow.

Ron is like, really into cockwarming. After a long day at work he wants nothing more than to be with you, so when you suggested cockwarming he immediately said yes. Steadying your hands on his broad chest you slowly sank down on his cock. Relishing in the way he filled you up to well, how the girth stretched your weeping hole. Ron on the other hand was seemingly in another world. His calloused hands gripped your hips and he resisted the urge to not thrust up and start fucking you right then and there. Ron took in a breath and rested his forehead on your shoulder, mumbling a soft ‘thank you’ as muscular arms enveloped you in an embrace. You still giggled at how he hissed when you moved on him slightly.

Being in a relationship with both Ron and Brett means a lot of cuddling and one if not both of them getting aroused. It’ll always start off the same way, Brett and Ron will mumble something to eachother before eventually attacking you with kisses from both sides, and having two beautiful men on both your sides means you cave in pretty quickly. They’ll drive you mad; they’ll toy and pull at your nipples, gently rub your clit while another one (most times it’s Ron) will squeeze your ass.

Gigi is very much into buying you lingerie. She’ll mail it to your house, leaving a suggestive little note inside the box. It’s a huge turn on if you’re willing to model for her which only lasts a few moments before she pounces on you.

JR is a total bitch and he wants- no- needs you to put him in his place. Make that s.o.b get on his knees and eat you out from underneath the desk, be real mean about it to. “Look at how pathetic you are…” You whispered to which JR whined against your clit. He tongued at it faster, palming himself through his pants. All his life he was used to getting what he wanted, that was until he met you. You’d deny his orgasms, deny the ability to touch you all together whenever he was acting spoiled. He couldn’t even make it two days before he humping your leg, grinding his bulge against you while begging you to make him feel good.

#inside job #gigi thompson #brett hand x reader #reagan ridley #inside job smut #ron staedtler x reader #reagan ridley x reader #andre lee #andre lee x reader #jr x reader #jr inside job

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yokiidokii · 1 year

Note

How would the gang react to a reader who constantly says sorry ? like for every stupid thing at the end of a sentence due to being Bullied majority of their life . So now I their adulthood it’s just kinda automatic “oop I’m sorry” even when it’s not necessary

My smile is immeasurable- I do this so often you have no idea. I have absolutely been worried about not knowing if I was gonna do the request just right. This is not one of those times. I did have a surprising amount of trouble with it though? Despite it being something I myself do constantly lmao, ah well I hope I did it justice!

Also hi! I was in college so this is so very late and I’m so sorry about that <3 My prof mentally threw me around like a rag doll and I came out with my brain fried.

Warnings: I don't think any? Maybe some general allusions to anxiety just because of the prompt itself? Andre mentions weed but uh- nothing else! Relatively safe<3

Reagan

I feel like she understands, I could see her thinking of it more in a like, a logical sense? Not like she doesn’t understand the more emotional side of it- she’s got her own issues. But in the like “Oh, usually when people do this it means they are scared of what people think and don’t like conflict. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She gets it, and I want to be absolutely clear- I cannot see her being one of those people saying “It’s fine.” Because like, for her it doesn’t feel like it ever really is? But she will be the person to help you feel like, it’s okay that you said it but know that you do not have to. You didn’t do anything wrong.

If you want to tell her the reason why you do this, apologizing and explaining she will feel for you. I mean we’ve seen her school experience, we had one friend and a buncha kids who were way older than you and treated her like shit. Also her father, very much her father.

She won't ever press you or act like you aren't trying harder to get better but she'll make sure in her own way that you know it's all gonna be okay one day.

One day you won't have to think about the past and everything will be okay <3

Andre

Andre may or may not have told you about his experiences with his family and how they really affected him.

You have probably also- at least once maybe seen him without drugs and how that can make him.

Long story short he is in no position to judge even if he for some reason wanted to.

Would offer you some weed

He means well and will not pressure you if you say no, though he will totally ask “Are you suuuureee?” because he cannot stress enough the wonders of medical marijuana

Whether or not you take it is up to you, but he will absolutely let you chill either in his office if you're at work or at his house- would come to your house to make sure your comfy if you need it<3

He is a loving man with lots of his own experience in this kind of regard and he will help you no matter what!

He is more than the drug guy though please literally let him be known for more than that he deserves it so any tips he's used to help himself out he will give to you.

A very caring man with his own issues and lots of advice and love to give if you'll have it~

Brett

Oh honey, this man? This man understands.

Brett will apologize after you do because both of you think that is is somehow both of your faults.

Though he will undoubtedly let you know in every way he possibly can that it is not your fault in any way and that he loves you.

He would absolutely mention therapy- it helps him! It might help you?

He would absolutely be holding your hand anyway and if you do apologize while it happens, he’ll squeeze it in his own and shoot you a quick “No need to be!” before continuing the conversation. He doesn’t wanna spend the whole time acknowledging it just in case putting too much attention on it in the open would embarrass you or make you feel worse.

But he will be there for you, and he will be listing off things that he’s learned to help him when he can’t stop doing it either.

Myc

I can see Myc start by just being a little bit sarcastic. Like he isn’t entirely sure why you do it just yet, but he doesn’t want you to be saying it and thinking that you did something wrong.

He gives those like “Oh yeah? You’re sorry?” and you know that if he had actual eyes, he would be giving you a look of ‘You really wanna do this rn?’.

And he will probably continue to do so even after he knows why.

He isn’t going to treat you differently per se, at least- he acts like he isn’t going to…

But you feel the tentacle that was already wormed around your waist squeeze just a little tighter before you end your sentence to remind you that you didn’t do anything, and you don’t need to apologize.

I mean he gets it, he got bullied. He ended with a different outcome for himself, but he still understands. It sucks, and even if you don’t want to think about it or you don’t want to constantly feel like life is repeating itself over and over again but sometimes it’s just going to feel that way even if it isn’t.

Though Myc will be there to help you understand and work through all the woes of getting to inside your own head.

Gigi

She would raise her brow at it at first.

Hit you with that “Honey you didn’t do anything wrong.” and make sure you know that it’s all okay.

Is teaching you how she ignores her haters constantly, if you say anything about it not being on the same level and you start apologizing again, she is going to lovingly slap you in the face with her words (She would not lay a hand on you ever-)

Comparing yourself gets a “tsk tsk” from her and a long list of all the parts about you she thinks are beyond stellar.

Gigi would be very honest -like the most honest maybe- about whether or not you actually have anything to be sorry about.

If you do, she’ll accept your apology but try to figure out a way to do it in a way that won’t encourage you to do it when you don’t actually have to.

And when you don’t, she places a hand on her hip and gives you a look, eyebrow raised just lightly in a ‘really?’ sorry of fashion.

She’s not questioning it; she knows it happened. But she’s asking if you really wanna do it, you know that she will no doubt spend her time talking your ear off about not doing this again.

She does it with the upmost amount of love I promise- but like,,

Do you dare question her? I wouldn't

Glenn

Okay. I don’t want to say Glenn doesn’t get it at first, but out of all of the people in the gang it feels right to say he might take the longest to adjust and learn how to handle it.

But just because he might not get it at first doesn’t mean he’s rude!!

It’s more of a “What? Why are you saying you're sorry? You didn’t do anything?” Kinda confused-

He’s a confused ol man, forgive him.

Though, he would understand the bullying thing like 100%

He’s no stranger to rude comments or being talked to as if he has no feelings, typical bully behavior even if he wouldn’t talk about it or call them bullies, just,,, assholes?

That and the feelings that come from thinking about those comments is something he understands, and something that he can try and a headspace he will gladly try to help you out of.

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riddleymethis · 1 year

Text

Another night another inside job brainrot

Inside job characters and pets they'd get with reader!

(Hcs for Brett, Reagan, Andre, and Gigi)

Brett:

- This feels pretty predictable but you guys would get a dog.

- Honestly at this point it just feels like there's two dogs in the house bc they have the same exact energy levels

- you have no complaints though! You love your bf and you love your dog so you're more than willing to deal with the energy levels

- you guys can take the dog on walks together which has led to a lot of nice moments of just. Peacefulness together.

- Alternatively: I think he'd love any bird in the parrot family? Maybe a cockatiel bc of the hair LOL

- Brett's urge to laugh at you teaching the bird cuss words vs telling you to not teach the bird to greet everyone with "What the fuck?!"

- you want to name your pet smth actually normal bur he talks you into naming it after some stupid animal pun based off a movie character

- idk honestly I think he'd really like to take care of any kind of pet that likes lots of engagement with you♡ leafs to lots of stuff together!

Reagan:

- Also pretty self explanatory, but a cat

- it takes awhile to convince her. She already shoulders a lot of work, plus the last pets she had were the turtles from her childhood which didn't. Go Well.

- but eventually you're able to convince her by the power of Being Annoying On Purpose

- she's basically the "I don't want a cat" vs walking into the room to see her baby talking the cat kinda energy

- it's not that she doesn't like cats at all, just the energy required to own one is what put her off initially, but now that the furball is in the home she is so in love with the small creature

- she just honestly likes the semi-independence of it. She likes that she can get any leftover work done at home whole the cat will entertain itself.

- plus have u ever had a cat sleep on your chest after a stressful day? God's work 🙏

- meanwhile you are the opposite. You will hug that cat all day. ITS NOT YOUR FUALT ITS SO FLUFFY AND CUTE

- cue lots of distant "MeooOW??" in another room that Reagan hears everytime you pick it up

- "Stop picking the fucking cat up like a baby!" "Tell it to stop being baby shaped then, idiot."

- You guys spend hours thinking of a good name and then just decide on something really stupid like "fishstick"

Andre:

- Honestly? Seems like a reptile kinda guy?? You'd guys probably get anything from something as small as a leopard gecko to a fucking python snake

- ok but. Snake.

- u both decide to name it smth dumb as hell like "Noodle"

- Andre is actually? Surprisingly very well educated in snake care.

- Like, he actually has made sure that everything from cage size to temperature to food is right. He's really been interested in them for a long time.

- meanwhile u just like the fact that the front of a snake face looks like ":]"

- people can just walk by you two working on something in your lab and there's just. A huge fucking snake slithering over your guys' arms and back.

Gigi:

- FERRET.

- I can't explain this one. It's a fucking ferret. Is fluffy. Is noodle. Are you jokester?

- you let Gigi take full liberty of naming it because you trust her to come up with something fitting

- you will both drop whatever your doing to just watch your ferret in silence as the run up and down one of those little play tube tunnels.

- the ferret definitely picks favorites and it's Gigi. Everytime you walk into a room, it's wrapped over Gigi's shoulders

- getting it the most obnoxious colored harness and walking it.

- people give you guys strange looks, but you don't mind. You're just happy to have your gf and your demon child of a ferret♡

#inside job x reader #brett hand x reader #reagan ridley x reader #gigi thompson x reader #andre lee x reader #headcanons

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anonnluvver · 1 year

Note

brett with a very shy reader ? most x readers have a too bold personality for me to relate too lol, gender is unimportant and just headcannons pleaseee :) ty

HIII OMG YALL REQUESTED A WHOOOLLE LOT AND IM SO SORRY IVE TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO THEM BUT I PROMISE I WILL! I’ve just been so busy lately but I’ve finally got some free time on my hands so be ready for looots of posts. ANYWAYS let’s get to it, thanks so much for requesting! (Btw this one is a long one…and cheesy)

Brett x shy reader fluff(gender neutral)

“Deep breathes, okay. You can do this.” You quietly whisper to yourself, nervously fiddling with the seams of your shirt. It’s the first day of your new job in the shadow government at Cognito inc. taking one last deep breath and push the doors open walking up to the front desk. “Hi, im Y/n. Im new here and someone named Reagan said to ask you for instructions.” The secretary just looks you up in down with the blankest expression you’ve ever seen and simply said “go to the 2nd floor, conference room.” You awkwardly look away and thank the lady. Geez so much for good first impressions. Following the mean ladys instructions you stand right in front of the conference doors and give it a quick knock. “Come in!” You hear a women shout. Opening the doors you see who you assume is your boss, Regan. “Hi, I’m Regan your boss . Since of now you are part of the task force.” That was super brief, you thought. You’re a little shocked at how quickly you had been assigned to a job. “Oh um okay, well when do I get to meet this team of mine?” You question her a little scared to meet the rest of your co-workers. “Ah sorry I called you in a bit earlier than everyone else just so you could adjust to your office a bit. I’ll show you the way there then you’ll come back here when your done settling down to meet everyone else.” Regan walks you out to your office and leaves soon after. Your body slumps and your bag falls onto your desk as you sit down. “Well this hasnt been too bad. Regan doesn’t talk too much, which is kind of awkward but I mean so am I.” You talk to yourself in your small office hearing your voice echo a little on the walls from the emptiness in the room. Well I guess I should start heading back I’ve been here a while, sighing you stand up and hesitantly go to the conference room once more. You open the doors to find more people sitting down at the large table in the conference room, all suddenly turning their heads to look at you. In embarrassment your face flushes a little and you look at the floor awkwardly. “Oh, sorry everyone um hi I’m Y/n.” You quietly introduce yourself. “Oh my gosh!” *SQUEEL* “You must be our new co worker!” *gasp* You sharply gasp, surprised by being pulled into a tight hug and squeezed up into the air. Your face grows even hotter and flustered not knowing who is touching you or what to do. You look down to see the person hugging you so tightly and see a tall and really attractive guy. And suddenly your even more flustered if that’s possible. “Brett how many times do we have to tell you, you don’t hug people who don’t know you.” Reagan sighs tiredly, clearly this isn’t the first time he’s done this. “Oh! Right sorry… I’m just so excited to have a new addition to our gang!” He quickly puts you done and apologizes. “Y/n you can come sit down with us now, everyone just introduce yourselves normally please.” Wow, Regan already seems done and the day just started. “Oh okay.” Shit, well where am I supposed to sit? You look to the right and see that weird guy who hugged you patting the seat next to him. You just quickly look away and sit next to Regan on the opposite side from him. You don’t mean to be harsh but you’re just nervous to be close to him. And strange enough he looks sad you didn’t sit next to him. “Alright well I’m Andre Lee, the tasks force one and only biochemist. I also got the good stuff-if you know what I mean wink wink.” He elbows your side while dramatically winking. “You are such a weirdo Andre.” The next girl rolls her eyes at Andre “whatever, I’m Gigi Thompson, best looking one here and PR of the media manipulation department. I’m sure you’ve seen my work because I am everywhere.” She laughs at her own flattery. “And I’m Glen Dolphman, Cognito Inc’s supersoilder and responsible for managing the company’s arsenal.” He says while firmly saluting to the American flag. “Oh and I’m Brett Hand! And uh I guess I just work here.” He laughs awkwardly at the last part as it seems he doesn’t even know why he’s here. “Okay now that everyone has introduced themselves let’s get to business.”

Regans voice just fades out slowly from your head as your distracted by a certain someone. You just stare at him in confusion and curiosity, Brett seems like such a strange yet normal guy. Though as your staring at him you can say he is really cute. Lost in your thoughts you don’t even notice when Brett catches you staring at him at first. He smiles at you and you quickly look away in embarrassment.

Eventually the hours pass you by and your first day on the job was over. You’re glad it was nothing crazy but planning things and paperwork. Reagan promised you’d be safely at the office, just for your first few days. You collect your things from your office and head to your car in the parking lot. Content enough with your first day you decide to get a quick pick me up at Starbucks. You sit at a table by yourself waiting for your vanilla with extra sweet cream foam cold brew, your regular. “Oh hey Y/n, it’s me Brett!” You look at up from your phone in surprise. Brett stood smiling right in front of you. Immediately filled with awkward nervousness you look away from him and down the the table. “Um hi…” you quietly respond to him, clearly not matching his energy. Brett immediately frowns with sadness. “Hey, I’m sorry that I hugged you without your permission. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I was just so excited to meet you! From now on I promise I’ll always ask before touching you.” Surprised at his apology you look up to see him smiling sweetly at you. You feel your cheeks warm up and little and you start to smile just a little. “Thanks, I really appreciate it Brett.” You finally spoke to him while making eye contact! Brett’s eyes light up with happiness, just glad you accepted his apology. Before either of you could say anything else the employee called out your order. “Oh that’s me, sorry Brett I have to go now but um it was really nice to see you.” You grab your bag and coffee and wave goodbye to Brett. Finally at home lying in your bed trying to sleep, you find yourself staring at the ceiling unable to stop thinking about something. Or more like someone. You couldn’t get Brett Hand out of your head and it was unbearable. What was so intriguing about him to you? I mean surely you cant like him you just met. I’m sure it’s just cause your excited about having a new friend. Yes of course, that’s the answer. All these thoughts rush through your head for the next few hours of you sleepless night.

You wave lazily at the front desk lady on your way into the office this morning, tired from you lack of sleep from last night. You drop a few things off at the office and report to the conference room shortly after as Reagan directed. You walk in and it’s just Reagan, seems like your a bit early. “G’mornin.” You mumble and take a sit next to her slumping tiredly in the chair. “Woah you look just like me, what’s wrong?” Reagan questions your tired face knowing it a little too well. You slowly lift your head off the table to look at her with half closed eyes. “Hm? Oh sorry, im just really tired. I couldnt sleep last night and I forgot to get coffee this morning too.” You slur and mumble all your words but it’s clear enough for Reagan to understand what your saying. “Ah I get that but my question is, why were you having trouble sleeping?” And before you could fumble over your words trying to make an excuse the answer bursts right through the doors. “Hey guys! How’s it going?” Brett’s energy is way too much for you this morning so you just put your head back down and doze off as Regan and Brett talk for a bit. Yet before you can fall asleep Brett calls out your name. “Y/n, look up.” “Hm?” You hum and left your head of the table once more to look up at whatever Brett wanted. He was holding out a coffee to you. You wake up a little from the shock and slowly sit up straight. “Is this for me?” You look at him confused. “Yes of course, I swinged by this morning to get you it. it’s a vanilla cold brew with extra sweet cream foam!” He gleefully beams at you. “But that’s what I always get?” You look at him stumped “how do you know my order?” Still confused you question Brett. “Oh well I I remember what order the employee called out yesterday when I saw you.” He smiles once more and you gently reach out your hands to grab the cup. And suddenly your sense of touch heightens when your fingers brush softly against Brett’s as you grab the cold cup. You share one last look with Brett before he quickly jolts up. “Oh! I just remembered I should go find the others. I know they’re here probably just running late.” He smiles and heads off to find the rest of your co workers. You just sit there starring off into space from where Brett last stood. “Hey Y/n” “hello?” “Y/N!” Regan yells at you to wake up from your day dream. “Oh regan, sorry I spaced out.” “Yea I could tell. Now let’s get ready for another stressful meeting.” You fully turn your attention to helping Regan prepare for the day.

Once again the work day is over and it’s time to leave as your walking out to the doors of your office you’re stopped by a certain someone. “Hey Y/n! Great work today.” It’s Brett. “Oh, thanks Brett…” fuck you’re internally screaming. Why does this guy make you so nervous? Hiding your face from Brett inevitable feeling the heat flush to your cheeks once more. “Um by the way, thanks for the coffee. It was really cool of you.” Cool? Gosh I sound like a dork. You internally beat your self up for your stupid choice of words. “No problem! Anything for a pal.” He giggles a little from his own statement and winks at you playfully. “Okay we’ll see you tomorrow Y/n!” And with that you both exchanges waves and goodbyes. Once finally out of eyesight you mentally face palm and groan into your hands. Gosh. That was embarrassing “Honey, I just saw that whole thing and whooh that was awkward.” You quickly turn around to see who saw your embarrassing display with Brett and it was Gigi. “Ugh I know but I just can’t figure out why I’m so awkward around him.” You cringe at just remembering your interaction. And yet you find yourself weirdly comfortable talking to Gigi. “Mmhm I think I know exactly why.” She just gives you an all knowing look up and down. “Really? Please tell me why.” You plead do her to enough you so you can just solve the issue already. “It’s because you like him.” “WHAT?” You accidentally yell out in shock covering your mouth quickly. “I mean, why do you say so?” This time whispering so no one near could hear. “Honey it’s written all over that little face of yours.” You groan loudly at her claim. Could that really be the reason your social skills suck more then usual when talking to Brett? “But I just met him, how could I already like him?” You ask Gigi since she seems to be much more knowledgeable in this aspect. “Well I couldn’t tell you. After all how am I supposed to know why YOU like him? All I know is lover boy seems to be developing a few feelings of his own.” And with that mind breaking statement she leaves you alone with just you and your thoughts. Brett like me?? No way. Not in a million years. These words echoing through your head the whole way home. Throwing yourself over your bed with exhaustion more over your conflicting emotions rather than your heavy work load and eventually passing out.

A few weeks pass and your now comfortable in your new work environment, strange but now familiar. Yet one thing has not changed, the awkwardness you feel when around Brett. And yes those feelings Gigi talked about have not left one bit, in fact you’d say they’ve grown over time. Brett’s nice gestures always make your stomach flutter with butterflies and your heart face like some 3rd grade crush. “Y/nnnn, Come on! He clearly likes you, why not just make a damn move already. Everyone in the office practically knows already! It’s so obvious.” Gigi shouts at you while your just trying to enjoy your sandwich. You asked to have lunch together not a therapy session… “Gigi shhh! Don’t say that so loud!” You sigh and put your sandwich down “look, I like him sure but we don’t know for sure if he does and-“ “OH PLEASE!” Gigi cuts you off abruptly shouting and throwing her arms in the air. “He’s always extra nice to you and trust me Brett’s already way too nice. Plus he’s always bring you little gifts all the time.” She huffs and rolls her eyes at you. “Whatever Gigi, I’m not making any moves so sorry to dissatisfy your office romance fantasies.” You roll you eyes back at her and clean up since your lunch break is over leaving back to your office and go finish up some paperwork for Reagan. “Oh I will get my office romance wether you want it or not.” Gigi talks to herself planning a ‘special’ surprise for you.

*KNOCK* *KNOCK* you sigh getting up from your chair to open the door to your office. “Oh hi Gigi, Reagan, What do you need?” You see the two girls standing in front of your door. “Hey Y/n we were hoping you could help us find something in the chemical closet.” Gigi asks in a weirdly high pitch voice. “Sure,what is it?” You ask wondering what it was they couldn’t find. “Oh follow us then we’ll tell you”. So you follow Reagan and Gigi to the chemical closet and go inside. “It’s called fizzyflupflurp acid.” You can hear one of them trying to hold in a laugh behind you “Really? That sounds kind of stupid.” But before you can say anymore they quickly leave in a rush saying to just call them when you find it since they’re so “busy”. Huh, weird. But I mean this whole place is weird. You just think to yourself as you look through the various viles for ‘fizzyflupflurp’ acid. Suddenly you hear lots of giggling behind you and hear Brett stumble into the closet falling right on to you. He lets out a grunt from the impact of you two colliding and before either of you can get a word out you hear the lock click and Gigi and Reagan giggles burst out into laughter. You push brett aside and rush to the door trying to open the door but it’s locked, pounding your fist on the door in frustration when it doesn’t open. “Let us out!” You yell at the other two behind the door. “Yeah, What are we locked in here for?” Brett chimes in. “Oh I think you know why you’re in there. And we’re not letting you out till one of you spits it out.” You can just hear the smirk on Gigi’s face. You freeze in fear and feel your face turn completely hot and red. “Gosh no.” You breathlessly whisper to yourself not wanting to turn around and face Brett. “AH OKAY I ADMIT IT,” Brett suddenly yells out “I MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE STALKED YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA TO LEARN YOUR FAVORITE THINGS.” Brett winces as if you might yell at him for what he’s done. “Brett what? No, this isn’t what this is about. And that’s not a horrible thing Brett im not mad at you for it but it is kinda weird…” you sigh preparing yourself to ruin your small friendship with Brett and make it awkward for the rest of your career. “Then what is it about?” Brett asks confused to what other secret needed sharing. “Well it’s… it’s- gosh um” SPIT IT OUT ALREADY internally yelling at yourself to get it over with. “I like you.” You say extremely quite almost enough for Brett to not hear. “Oh well I like you too Y/n! You’re a great friend, that’s no secret.” He laughs at you for your ‘silly’ secret that he just doesn’t seem to understand. “No, Brett. I like like you. As in romantically.” You muster out clarifying things for Brett. It’s silent. Way too silent that you look up to see his expression and he looks so, shocked? Panicked you start apologizing “look Brett I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I jus-“. Oof is the noise you let out from being knocked back into the closet door. “Brett?” “I’m sorry, I know I said I’d ask next time before hugging you but I just really needed to this time.” He whispers softly and your heart just melts. You hug him back tighter than ever happy he isn’t upset. “I like like you too Y/n” he quietly says nuzzling into your neck and gently squeezes you reassuringly.

I AM SO SORRY I TOTALLY READ THIS REQUEST WRONG I DONT KNOW HOW 😭. well regardless I hope some of you like it but I am truly sorry anonymous hope you can forgive me🙏.

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christineedaaee · 7 months

Text

reagan ridley as your partner would include

• meaningless but cute inventions when u complain about somethjng

• for example if you complain about the tv remote being too far away she’ll install legs on the remote or something

• staring as a love language

• watching cheesy rom coms until the ungodly hours of the morning with her

• stalking peoples social media and talking shit about them

• actually, just talking shit about people in general!

• hacking little kids on roblox

• rand being a cheeky fucker

• getting a cat together, because i firmly believe reagan ridley is a proud cat lover

• facetiming on the toilet

• domestic dates, she’s not a fan of places with big crowds

• shit talking her dad

• crisp packets and soda cans. EVERYWHERE.

• “diabetes central” movie nights, consisting of a lot of sweets that could give a person diabetes

#theres-a-starmaan #inside job #inside job netflix #reagan ridley #inside job brett #inside job gigi #inside job reagan #brett hand #andre lee #gigi thompson #reagan ridley x reader #reagan ridley x you

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cognitosclowns · 1 year

Note

Genuinely thinking about getting tag teamed by Myc and Andre. Or Myc laying one of their tentacles on readers head, and reader just grabs it and starts playing with it, completely unaware that it’s actually an erroneous zone. They’re just messing with it and Myc is going through a very interesting time.

EEEHEHEHE >:) <3333 ok this is an old ask but the idea of getting Tag Teamed by Myc and Andre is WRACKING my brain rn. so. IM GONNA RUN W/ THAT <3333 TYSM TYSM TYSM-

NSFT!!! minors go away!! Possible tw for Drugs (Myc and his Weird Psychoactive Gunk)

GRGRKGKRKG,,,, options,,, choices,, hgrnurngunrnrugnrungung p e n i s

oh so they’re gonna corrupt you

THEY’RE GONNA CORRUPT YOU SO BAD!!!! WORSE THAN YOU EVER COULD HAVE POSSIBLY IMAGINED!!!

I feel like getting tag-teamed by them is almost inevitable if you’re getting w/ one of them. They’re sort of a package deal. Bare minimum, it’ll be suggested over coffee once or twice

it usually starts out as,, just one of them??

individually they are such GRABBY BASTARD SMDSND + they’re literally ready to fuck,, whenever.

this does mean that if one of them catches you two fucking, the other one will ABSOLUTELY JOIN IN <333 COME ON

HM LETS SEE

Handcuffs aren't necessary when one of your fuck buddies has 6 arms <3

TRULY IF YOU WANNA BE PINNED, MYC WILL HAVE NO TROUBLE.

It’s easy for most people to forget, but his tentacles are strong. Rope strong. He could keep you pinned in any manner of positions for a senselessly long time without breaking a sweat.

You need your legs up, so that Andre can get that One Specific Angle that turns your brain into jelly? ‘Don’t worry babe, I’ve got ya covered’

OR EVEN. LIKE.

Two tentacles for the arms, two for the legs, two for any assorted holes that Andre may be incapable of filling <3 or even just if,, he wants to get you extra squirmy. You can take two, right?

It’s also super efficient bc. Yeah Andre fucks kinda sloppy, and has a tendency to accidentally move y’all around with his thrusting. (mm. you’ve accidentally bumped your skull on the headboard a few times MNSDMS)

SO!! It’s nice to have Myc there to,, keep you two stuck in place <3

ALSO TANGENT BUT. Two things I feel like Myc would love is :

Stuffing one of his tentacles in there w/ his dick, along with some comment about how ‘maybe if his dick wasn’t so scrawny, I wouldn’t have to ;)’

Wrapping a tentacle or two around Andre’s hips, and fucking you for him. This is especially good when Andre starts losing energy <3 Myc can easy hold his wiry ass up, so he basically just uses him as a Very Loud, Giggling Dildo <333

ALSO THESE BOYS ARE INCAPABLE OF SHUTTING UP

Each individually is extremely vocal + chatty during sex. Both of them combined is torment (affectionate)

They’re absolutely shameless. Any comments that come to the surface will be said.

Also don’t be surprised if they pull some ''Good-Cop-Bad-Cop'' shit, with one of them degrading you and the other praising you.

Laying against Andre's body, feeling his hands dig into your thighs to keep you still, while Myc tests the limit of just how stretchy human holes are?? Your poor cock-addled brain is gonna be absolutely flooded with their rambling.

It's all very 'Je-sus, aren't you an overachiever. Three deep and you're still lookin' for more, huh?'

'aww hehe, look at how well they’re doing!

'Aw, you're always spoiling em! If they can get a fourth one in, then maybe we can start talkin' about 'good' '

etc, etc, ad nauseum, carpet diem, you get the drill. They're little bastards who like the sound of their own voices MSNDMSNDMSN

OH AND ANDRE WILL,, 1000% JUST SIT BACK AND ENJOY THE VIEW WHILE MYC HAS HIS FUN SMNSMDN

There’s something very stimulating to just,, having an outside view of the action. You and Myc being completely undone, while he’s able to be,, a Calm and Collected Outside Observer is EXTREMELY RARE FOR ANDRE SMNSMD

It’s definitely not an Always thing, just an Occasional thing.

Getting different angles?? talking back-and-forth w/ Myc, while his tentacles fuck you open like he’s drilling for oil? Absolute perfection.

He’s not always gonna be a Pair Of Needy Eyes In The Corner Of The Room, though, he does sometimes like getting closer to the action!!

LIKE I can totally see him sitting on the bed beside y’all while Myc has his fun. Just,, lazily kissing your cheek every once and a while, loosely jacking himself off. Maybe a bit of wisecracking <33

granted, you don’t remember much of it bc. After the third tentacle your brain kinda goes a little squirmy, but the thought is sweet nonetheless <3

ADDITIONAL MISC STUFF??

Myc being into bukkake + Andre being a little freak (adoring) means that you will be coated in fluids of several origins. The bath afterwards is magical tho so it's worth it

OHO getting railed (anally) by Myc feels a bit like a Very Horny Colonoscopy. If you ask, those puppies will go deep. like,, deep deep. Like 'oh my god, it feels like you're in my throat' deep.

and,, yeah usually that wouldn't be all that pleasant, but the Delightful, Stimulating Properties that his tentacle goo evokes turns the experience Transcendental.

Your entire torso feels kinda,, tingly and sensitive and full?? every time he shifts, it feels like he’s hitting alllll the spots you need at once. He says its something about the psychoactive properties, but you’re too fucked out to really care <3

he’s also super gentle - even if his tendrils are super slick and blunt, he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you. He’s a jerk, sure, but he’s not an asshole.

[and,, yeah those are definitely the times Andre takes a bit more of a back-seat role. Lots of praise n' giggling. He just lays back and runs his hands along your body, maybe even against your stomach-intestine area to enjoy the way Mycs tendrils make your stomach bulge]

Was possessed by the spirit of Tentacle Porn (tm) SMDNSMDN I COULD GO ON ABOUT THESE TWO FOR CENTURIES, BUT I'LL LEAVE THIS HERE <333 MWAH THIS WAS SO FUN, THANK YOU SO DEARLY!!!

#*gestures have this*#GOD I FORGET HOW WEIRD ANSWERING ASKS FEELS AFTER NOT DOING IT IN A WHILE SMDNS #ik I promised to be insufferable </3 but I was shy so you get my insufferability (???) now MSNDMASNDM #nsft #minors dni #myc #andre lee #magic myc #andre lee x reader #magic myc x reader #inside job #inside job x reader #NSABDSNBDNASBD #*hannibal lecter voice* hello anise #anise if u read this. haha loser get tentacled.#GOD AND YOU KNOW ANDRE WOULD MAKE SOME DUMB JOKE LIKE 'aww the baby's kicking!' when mycs tendrils bulge your stomach #downside of it would also be. ur gonna be LEAKING FLUID FOR DAYSSS SMDNSMDN. THE MESS IS SO RIDICULOUS

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sin-sidejob · 1 year

Note

Give me jealous possessive JR/Andre/Gigi/Robotus or give me DEATH

Inside Job — Jealous

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, canon adherent material from a mature show, jealousy, possessiveness, semi public sex, exhibition, etc

Content: bossy, bitchy, deep-state employees. When they feel jealous or insecure about others giving them attention in a way they don't really care for. Some are more dramatic and others suaver, also some more bitchy.

A/N: my, my, bossy aren’t we? Headcanons below for JR Scheimpough, Andre Lee, Gigi Thompson, and Robotus Alpha Beta, enjoy!

Robotus Alpha Beta:

- hates feeling emotions and hates feeling jealous even more, looming around like your sulky, petty, violent shadow who glares at everyone who gives you a once-over

- AB hates humanity but he’s learning to tolerate it through first hand experience and exposure, via the coworkers, and love it through you. That doesn’t mean that he’s not eager to snap a spine like a Ticonderoga #2 pencil.

- there’s one moment in particular where you actually got the first glimpse of him getting jealous, a holiday party when someone gets in a little to close and starts complimenting the fabric of your jacket while rolling it between their fingers. Before you can even say anything, you feel a weight all too familiar coil around your waist and warmth press against your back, lips leaning down to press at your temple while eyes glowing a bit ominously are locked upon the person before you, some poor bastard from accounting.

- “forgive me for interrupting,” Alpha Beta drawls suave and calm, sizing the person up from behind you knowing you could handle everything yourself, but enjoying the moment of being able to show off what’s his and his alone, “I just wanted to rejoin my dearest’s side. Quite immaculate, aren’t they?” He doesn’t waste time listening to the shaky response from the person before you and rather seems content just staring at you, focusing on your presence and spotting you glance up at him with a coy smile hidden behind the lip of your drink.

- You don't even look at the person in front of you, not interested in the slightest meanwhile AB is staring them down with a small, earnest little smirk until they leave, lurking behind like your personal, protective shadow.

- "Can I grab you a refill?" He asks, noting your now empty drink as he moves out from behind you and before you, taking you in as you lean against the unoccupied side of the bar, grinning up at him with a proud yet amused smirk. "What's the look for?"

- "Oh nothing," you drawl, smiling all the while and unable to wipe it off your face as you stare up at him, noting his hand still on your waist, "just finding your possessive streak endearing."

- "Endearing, huh?" Alpha-beta mirrors, leaning in a bit closer and making your head tilt up a tad as he watches your eyes lower to peer up at him beneath thick lashes, "Seeing you act all protective and domineering, possessive, its cute." Alpha-beta arches a brow, taking in your expression idly. "Cute? I'm not cute - I'm a homicidal machine bent on destroying humanity."

- "The only thing you've been destroying lately is me," you talk over and ignore his guffaw, enjoying the petulant scoff, "and its former homicidal machine bent on destroying humanity, now you just kill for fun. That makes it a pastime."

- "It doesn't. You know damn well that's incorrect." He immediately buts back, eyes half-lidded but still unable to give up his need to be right, "Oh I do, it's just funnier to get you all pent up, you fuck harder that way."

- "I'm getting you another drink and the second you finish it, I'm taking you home and you won't leave the house until Monday on legs so shaky its as if you're impersonating a newborn deer."

- "You've never been hotter." You tease and kiss his cheek as he takes your glass while passing by you, grabbing you a refill of your drink of choice and standing with his back to you at the bar, smiling up at the mirror that allows him to see you staring right at him from behind.

- He has no worry about losing you to another, knowing you well enough by now, but any little what-if gets clouded over by how you look at him, even when you think he can't see. Alpha-Beta adds it to the files, under that folder of reminders of how much you love him when he needs to remind himself.

JR Scheimpough:

- he’s whiny and pathetic — and you love him for it, the way he’s just a little bit of a bitch — but there are some things he just won’t stand for, like seeing others try and take what’s his. Including you. That man’s backbone has never been more prominent than in those moments, and he uses all of those well crafted aspects of speech and persuasion he’s accumulated over the years, and will indeed pick apart whoever it is with words until they’re nothing but bones.

- JR has a tendency to show you off, have you at his side and brag and boast about you and your talents, accomplishments, personality, and more. He doesn’t wield you like a trophy or a prize but rather pays tribute to you and presents you forth in front of others to illustrate just how much of a catch you are, and just how taken he is with you.

- so when a former colleague eyes you up and starts to lean in, JR abandons his conversation suavely and swiftly in order to weave through people to reach you. He slinks nearby, melting into crowds and peoples shadows while watching as this person tries to get closer to you. The moment he does see red is when their hand tries to touch you and you brush it away, stepping back, but they try to force their hands onto your waist.

- “There you are darling,” he spots the flicker in your eyes, noting the relief in your body and the way you immediately lean into him when he comes up, “was just talking about you to some coworkers over there then realized I had lost you — oh!” JR turns and addresses the person before the both of you, doing that salesman grin and extending his hand. “Hello, I didn’t recognize you for a second, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” JR segways brilliantly, an arm wrapped around your waist low and comfortable and he feels you press at his side, seeking him out and he wishes he came around sooner or just hung around you the whole night.

- the two stare each other down as JR shakes their hand, smiling in a grin that seems earnest yet as fake as the pristine demeanors and character junior league women have with their pearls and prejudice. “Pleasure to see you — lovely partner you’ve got, how long have you two been together? You can wink if you want out.” They chide, nodding at you and mocking your very real relationship, and both JR’s grip on your waist tightens as does your grip on the back of his jacket, gut already at a low and continuing to plummet the longer you’re around the person before you.

- “For a while now, several years actually.” JR responds first, nodding down to you and catching your eye, getting a small yet truly earnest smile out of you, him matching before glowering at the person before you. “Our anniversaries in about a month or so.” He adds, patting your waist affectionately in a blatant look what you’ll never get to touch moment.

- “Oh congratulations then, best of luck you two.” They say before departing, disappearing into the crowd and you breathe an audible sigh of relief which JR feels responsible for, smoothing his hand over your rib cage and kissing at your temple, “M’sorry I wasn’t here, wish I could off that fucker.”

- “there’s always the assassination button.” You muse idly, letting him hold you close and smiling against his lips when he leans in to kiss you, eagerly meeting his touch and wrapping an arm around his neck to lace over his shoulder, lingering as he makes all the occupants in the room disappear, just him and you in a moment.

- “have I mentioned how much I love you and the way you think?” JR jokes, squeezing at your side and eliciting a little chirp he grins against, mouth ghosting over yours in a blatant, overly intimate display of affection. You shake your head, blinking at him beneath lashes and he watches as your grin forms, the hand at his back splaying across his shoulder while the other plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending a shudder rolling through his spine all the way down to the tailbone.

- “you may have said something, but I’m more than open to hearing more from you, if that’s quite alright Mr. Scheimpough?” Teasing, you slide the hand over his shoulder and to rest on his chest to tug at his tie, feeling him melt under your touch and his body turning to moldable clay, ready for the heat of your touch to break him or make him. “There’s nothing I’d like more.” JR breathes, hand in hand as he lets you lead him out the building towards home, or more likely, the back of the car.

Gigi Thompson:

- you think she’s gotten to where she is while letting insecurities bloom? No way. But she will cut a bitch should they touch what’s hers. Gigi doesn’t like feeling lesser than anyone, and she knows she isn’t, she’s incredible at her job and immensely talented, creative, cunning, and drop dead gorgeous. It’s why she holds you so highly in respect with how you’re all that and more. Which is why she’s the only one who gets to have you.

- The two of you had went out, finally managing a date night after a series of cancelled plans from work hijinks and shenanigans, finding yourselves at a club and hidden away in corners and booths all to your lonesome, Gigi working her magic to get you into all the hottest and most lucrative places. You had finished your glass and saw she was about to finish hers, offering to head to the bar to get refills and kissing her in a brief little see you later kiss, feeling her gloss transfer and glitter slide upon your mouth. She thinks it’s a look.

- upon making your way to the bar, you skirt through bodies of people and finally make it, waiting for the bartender to make their way through and finally reach you. You reorder Gigi’s drink and get some ice water for yourself, feeling a bit hot in the packed room. While waiting on Gigi’s drink, you sip away at your own and lean against the bar, throwing Gigi a wink from across the floor which she rolls her eyes at, smiling regardless and sending her own back.

- Gigi’s drink takes a while, one of the liquor bottles empty and another bartender needs to step away and pull out a bottle from the back. You wave a hand, smiling and assuring it’s fine, giving basic courtesy. Now sitting at the bar, you pull out your phone and respond to a few texts idly, looking up when someone talks to you, an “Excuse me?” makes you Loft your head up to find someone standing beside you, looking at you expectantly.

- “Hello?” You offer, brows furrowed and eyes squinted, confused and a bit irritated already. “Oh — you didn’t hear me then. I just asked what your name was.” You just stare, dead into this poor fuck’s soul and blink, sipping at your drink. Refusing to speak, you just glare and wait for them to leave you be so you can grab your girlfriends drink and return to her side. “Okay, so no to that then.” They trail off, sitting beside you and ignoring the blatant hints you keep dropping about wanting to be left the fuck alone.

- “So, what brings you here?” Comes their latest attempt at prodding you to speak more, their head tilted and mouth smiling, assuming you’ll give in and just tell them all about yourself. Fuck that. “Damn, what’s got you all bent out of shape? Here to nurse a breakup or some shit?” Your eyes lower to slits, glaring harshly ahead at the mirrored reflection of the bar towards the persons head, wishing you could make their skull explode with your mind.

- at another silence, they seem to get fed up, growing irritated and irate. “Oh c’mon, how stuck up are you?” Your eye twitches. “Can’t even respond—“ They’re cut off, and you feel a familiar weight lay across your shoulder and Gigi’s perfume meets your nose. You grin at the bastard across from you, knowing his fate has now been decided by a much more merciless and cutthroat person than yourself.

- “Can’t you even take a hint, with your pathetic nosy ass trying to play twenty questions with a taken person.” Gigi drawls, nails drumming against your shoulder and you peer up at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she pauses for the drama of it all — god you love this woman. “Move on, you waste of actual air and space, before I shove my fresh manicure down your throat and extricate that useless spine of yours and make it a backscratcher.”

- as expected, they leave, rapidly in fact and abandoning a wallet you loot and steal the ID from, passing it to Gigi who places a call to get the shithead disappeared. She sits and takes their seat at the bar, her purse and your things in hand as she places a hand on your thigh comfortingly, thumb rolling circles and shapes into you. “You okay?” She asks softly, meeting your eyes and you smile, patting her hand and squeezing it once, twice. “I’m fine, and besides, it was fun watching you. Look so hot doing that.”

- Gigi beams, laughing as she rests her elbow against the bar, cheek in her palm as she stares at you, her other hand on your thigh still and tracing shapes idly, just glad to be close to you and keep you close. “It’s better than when you let me grab drinks, you knocked some random fucker out last time.” She starts, smirking at your sudden frustration that she evokes. “Hey! You know that dim-dicked motherfucker deserved it — and how was I supposed to know his cheek couldn’t handle my fist through it.”

- you’re about to justify your actions when Gigi’s drink is finally poured before you both, slid into her awaiting hands and you lose track of thought once you see her take it in hand and the slow drag of her throat as she swallows a sip, the print of her lipstick against the glass. “Fuck — what was I saying.” You burst out, brows furrowed again in honest confusion and she laughs, squeezing your thigh, and you realize you honestly couldn’t care less.

Andre Lee:

- there’s two sides to the jealousy, proudly watching as you dismiss people and their attempts at sweeping you off your feet and pointing to him wherever he is with an earnest grin and wave, him waving back being fully assured that you’re his and his alone.

- there’s the additional side that’s possessive as hell and knows you’re a catch, and Andre’s insecure and doesn’t want to lose one of the best things that’ve ever happened to him. So the second he can, he pulls you aside to fuck you like a jackrabbit in the nearest room and make sure whichever person — or people — that were interested get to hear you cry out for him as he brings you to the brink of orgasm over and over, the only one getting to see you like that and taste so good on his lips.

- Andre’s in the middle of conversing with Gigi and Brett across the room and see some little shit try and slide up while you’re alone, watching as your smile grows awkward and eyes scan for him, then secure on the person before you as you scoff at something and close down your body language. Your back straightens and eyes dim to leers as you stare down the person before you, and Andre’s already biting his lip while Brett catches he’s not paying attention, turning his head to his line of sight and clueing in Gigi, who both roll her eyes and smiles while taking a sip of her cosmo.

- “Go on and save them before they break that bitches neck,” Gigi suggests, smiling and promoting Brett to nod along, smiling too. Andre just shakes his head a fraction, a small grin of his own on as he finishes the end of his drink, tossing out the cup before nodding his head in your general direction.

- “But where’s the fun in that — just wait a sec’ then they’ll ditch ‘em. That’s when I come in.” Andre muses, already excited and thrumming for what’s to happen next, the routine so constant he’s nearly blessed with a Pavlovian response in how he knows what’s to occur soon. He can practically taste you on his lips anyhow, and he’s jittery, like a wound up toy aching to be let go to putter around.

- and they all watch as, sure enough, you send the poor bastard with their tail tucked between their legs and scurrying away, ego and pride demolished in your presence as you brandish a evil little smirk and swipe your lips across the edge of your glass and finish it. Andre rolls his sleeves with an equally evil little giggle before he approaches, watching as you lick up a stray drop from your beverage away as it lingered at the bottom of your lip, turning to him with a pouty mouth and lidded, heady eyes.

- “and there you are.” You marvel, adjusting so he can sit at the bar stool beside you and lean in close, placing a brief, take peck at your lips that you cast aside in efforts to bite at his mouth, letting him taste your drink off your tongue. “Julep?”

- “close, was a mojito.” You chime, nose nudging his in a disgustingly cute manner before you lean back, lips glossed now in his spit. He loves how it looks on you. “Nice try though.” You murmur, sparing him a glance as you fish out bills from your wallet and pay your shared tab, smacking his hand away when he tries to pay — you nearly growl and he tries so hard not to laugh.

- as you paid, Andre turns and locks eyes with the fucker that tried to talk you up and flips him off with a cheery, eat shit smile before you can turn around. He feigns nonchalance but you see through it anyhow, shoving your receipt in the bag and taking his hand before walking out to the exit hall and quickly drag him into the bathrooms — slinking in and dragging him by his tie as you step backwards so he presses you against the sink.

- Andre helps you up, mouthing at your jaw as you paw and nudge at his belt, managing to unbuckle it as his slide your own bottoms down and underwear too, teasing you with eager hands as you moan out, head angled and resting against the mirror. He works quickly, shucking his pants down to his mid thighs where they bunch so he can fuck his fist then grind against you, sending your belly clenching and hips swiveling, eager for friction.

- and if that poor bastard happened to try and use the restroom, peek in just a fraction, they’d see Andre jackhammering into you and his bright, devilish smirk meet their eyes in the mirror reflection. His form covered the expanse of yours, keeping you covered but leaving your face exposed, eyes wide shut as you cry his name and praise him and his skill over and over, turning into a puddle from his ministrations and sending the bastard running — Andre considers it a win.

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