#reagan x reader
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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
#inside job#my inside job#personal inside job#halloween#halloween smut#magic myc#myc x reader#magic myc x reader#Reagan ridley#Reagan ridley x reader#Reagan x reader#brett hand#brett x reader#brett hand x reader#andre x reader#andre Lee#andre lee x reader#robotus#alpha beta robotus#Robotus x reader#alpha beta Robotus x reader#my thots#inside job headcanon#inside job imagine
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VERY Protective Reagan Ridley X Shy Reader Headcanons
Kind of lied with my last post but I'm back now for sure. Maybe.
• Reagan may or may not attempt to bail you out of Cognito. Like- A LOT.
• She just thinks you're too innocent to be working in such a place.
• She secretly installs cameras in your office to make sure you aren't overwhelmed or paranoid. Trust me, she KNOWS that feeling all too well.
• She's actually quite solid at comforting you when you're feeling down.
• She may or may not secretly buy and bring you some of your comfort snacks.
• All in all, she cares for you. Quite a lot.
--
Probably a bit short, but hey, it's something.
Bai~!!
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Reagen with a S/O who just like. Admires her and everything she does?? Especially her work <33 like she could make the tiniest machine that does nothing and they would just go "that's literally so cool you are so smart and awesome and pretty and amazing I love you so much" and they just <333 reagen my beloved
Ahhh this is cute one!!
//SFW!!
So you have been Reagan’s partner for few weeks. Things are going smooth. She’s being very shy but you are quite the opposite. You just have to tell her how much you love her and her creations
At first she thought you were joking, she never really got any compliments on her work so she just wasn’t used to it.
But the positive comments just kept coming and coming until it broke her.
One day as she was fixing the mixer, you sat down next to her and watched with pure excitement.
“Damn Reagan. You are actually so talented- if my mixer broke I would just buy a new one but you? You are just trying to fix it. It’s so cute and awesome <3” you said with smile on you face.
Suddenly she stopped working and a quiet sob was coming from her.
You looked her face. She was crying. Still staring at that broken mixer with tears in her eyes. You panicked at that moment.
“What?! What’s wrong hun? Did you mess up? That’s ok we can just buy-“
“Nobody ever compliments my work reader” she didn’t let you even finish your sentence.
She set down all of her tools and sat on the cold kitchen floor. Head facing the floor.
Your heart broke at that moment. She doesn’t deserve any of this. All she deserves is love and endless support.
You sat down right in front of her, you hand reached her cheek. You cupped her soft cheek, stroking it slowly with your thumb. She leaned into your touch.
You two stayed like this for few moments until Reagan decided to sit in your lap. Her poor thin body was shaking.
You didn’t say anything, in fact you decided to speak with your action.
You wrapped your arms around her, putting her even closer to you.
She started sobbing again as she leaned her head into your neck.
“I’m so sorry my love that you had to go though all of this. I truly hope your work would be more appreciated.”
Your hand started stroking her back. She continued sobbing into your neck.
“I’m just,, so lucky to have you as my girlfriend. You are literally the most talented person I know. You can turn nothing into something-“
Your other hand reached her head, fingers massaging the skin. You still could hear sobs.
“I adore your creations Reagan. You inspire me to create as well. I drew a prototype for a new drone the other day”
At that the sobbing stopped. Reagan raised her head and looked directly into your eyes. That was pretty rare on it’s on considering she’s very anxious.
“Y-you mean that?”
You gave her a big loving smile.
“Yeah! Haha I love you your work just as much as I love you. And that’s a lot!!”
She couldn’t hold back her smile, you could see that.
“Don’t worry. I’m so bad with technology and programming that every you make is amazing in my eyes. “
“S-stop” she laughed.
“And don’t get me started on how pretty you are-“
“Stop!” She laughed even more. She pressed her forehead against yours.
You really just took the opportunity and went ahead to kiss her. She’s didn’t protest. She just let go of everything. You could feel her stress leaving though her lips.
You two broke apart for air. Your bodies were pressed together, in one warm embrace.
She pressed a little kiss on your cheek as a thank you. In response you pressed her even closer to you. Trying to breathe in her scent.
The wonder scent of your favorite nerd <3
Ohhh ok I hope this is alright. It’s pretty late rn and I’m very tired so yeah. Can’t really bring myself to write something complicated. Hope you enjoyed it hun! <3
#inside job#reagan ridley#reagan ridley x reader#inside job x reader#reagan ridley hc#reagan ridley imagine#reagan x reader
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I really liked your yandere headcanons for the Inside Job crew….. do you think you could do more NSFW ideas for the gang as yanderes? The Andre one was especially 🤌
<3 I’m not doing nsfw for inside job atm but you can have more yandere hcs of them
Reagan is the chillest yandere I think, honestly. But that’s saying quite a lot. She believes you deserve space, because that’s something she would want. She wouldn’t wanna be isolated from everything, and kept confined so she doesn’t do that to you. You will find however, she’s pretty much the same but her yandere-ish characteristics come out when she’s very jealous. She’s not against killing somebody she’s jealous of, or even accusing you of cheating on her when you were simply having a normal conversation. She’s not against punishing you so you remember that your hers, with a personal scar. She will also make it very clear she is in a higher status than you, she can ruin your life if you ever decide to leave her.
Gigi is the stalker type, given her job it’s easy to know what you’re up to at all times. It also lets her know who you’re texting and if she should be worried or not. She gets very paranoid about you leaving her, so she’s always around. Has the sense to understand you wouldn’t want to be isolated and would like to have your circle of friends, but she also has a way of always being around even if you don’t know it. She has recordings of all your conversations and is always watching. She will use these recordings as blackmail if she ever thinks you’re gonna leave her. She’s one of the more chiller yanderes as well but extremely manipulative and gaslights you often when she’s upset with you.
Brett is not against kidnapping you in the slightest. If he feels like attention is being taken away from him. Due to his trauma he craves your attention and cannot stand it when you pay attention to anyone else for even a second. He’s an attention freak!!! He’d never hurt you of course but he will definitely find other ways of making sure you know what’s yours and will always be yours and no one else’s. He’s always around, not for one minute is he away from you. Even the bathroom he insists on being with you, but you’re able to convince him to let you take a shit in peace. But it’s hard when you know he’s just listening in like some weirdo. It’s clear he’s obsessed, and eventually he just kidnaps you when his obsession becomes too much.
Andre is able to convince himself you two are dating, even if you’re not. He’s a delusional yandere, but this also means a lot of noncon could possibly happen because he acts like you’re just being shy. He’s delusional so he’s able to convince himself of a lot of things. He typically drugs you if you fight back to much, but there’s this immeasurable guilt that follows him. The others may not feel guilty for their actions but he does because he knows what he’s doing to you is wrong, but honestly if he was aware of the full extent of what he was doing he’d stop. He’s just simply too delusional to know the full extents. He is pretty suicidal when it comes to you, simply because if you ever said you hated him he would definitely kill himself. He lives off your approval.
Myc is so abusive lol. Constantly telling you how worthless and pathetic you are, he’s trying to weigh down your self esteem so that there’s none left. It makes it easier for him to control you when you stop believing in yourself to the point you can’t even believe in the decisions you make anymore. He wants complete control over you and your life, he wants you to know how ugly you are inside and out but despite that, he loves you the way you are. In fact he’s the only one that could ever love such a burden. He understands what he’s doing is wrong, who wouldn’t? He’s also the only one that knows he’s not in love and it’s a simple obsession. Because of this he’s a lot more cruel.
#magic myc x reader#myc x reader#reagan x reader#brett x reader#andre x reader#inside job x reader#gigi x reader
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Gang with a S/O who has anger issues!
This is NOT!! Romanticising!! Anger issues is a serious topic that I and some of my friends deal with! Please don’t read if this is somehow a sensitive topic to you <3
Retrieving information . . .
FILE. . REAGAN . . .
Would probably understand where your coming from
If your anger is physical she would keep her eye on you 24/7
If you ever got mad at her, she would be pissed, but would calm down for the sake of not provoking you further
Fighting/arguing is okay with her, but if it ends with you getting hurt she’s yelling at you for being reckless
She would try come up with a device to control your anger, (weather it works or not is completely up to you)
Gives you advice, mainly just saying “put your anger into your work, trust me, it works more than you would think”
If your anger is more like, silent and glares, she would rub your back
She’s really awkward, when she sees you staring someone down, eye twitching and fists clutching nothing. She would. In the most awkward way. Try to calm you down.
Overall she doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she’s trying to help no matter what!
FILE . . BRETT . . .
Has no clue what to do. Like at all
If your anger is more physical he would be next to you ALL the time. Would probably drag Reagan away from her desk just so he can be with his 2 Favourite people!! And so you don’t kill MYC
If you ever got mad at him he would be like “oh..” and make the :( face, he would forgive you, of course! But he’s still going to be upset, APOLOGISE.
Fighting/arguing, he’s not a big fan of. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, but if the person your fighting is a asshole, he will watch, but be standing next to you
He would be rubbing your shoulders trying to calm you down, telling you to let it go (Elsa) and to just leave it. BUT SWEETLY
He wouldn’t give you advice, HE WOULD IF YOU ASKED, but I think he’s more of a physical comfort kinda guy rather than just using his words
If your anger is more like silent and glares, he would look at the person your glaring at worriedly
He’s nervous, scared you will lash out all your built up anger on him. So he’s not gonna try say anything that could possibly anger you, I can see him hugging you from behind while you stare at the person who made you angry
Overall he’s slightly scared of you, but always there to comfort you when you need it <3
FILE . . GIGI . . .
honestly, I see her being more encouraging than handling your anger
If your anger is physical you best know she’s recording you whenever you get in a fight. If you win she posts it on her story on Instagram, if you loose she’s giving you tips
If you ever get mad at her she’s offended. As fuck. But knows not to say anything.
Fighting/arguing she’s okay with. It’s not her business. But if it gets out of hand she’s holding you to her chest screaming at the other person
She would rub your knuckles softly, and tell you that it’s okay
She doesn’t give advice. She gives tips. On how to either distract beat or intimidate the other person
If your anger is more like silent and glares. She’s concerned. 10000% concerned
She wants you to be able to express how you feel so if your ever just sitting there tapping your fingers on the table while killing someone with your eyes. She’s begging you to atleast go talk to them to settle your anger a little
Overall she’s not good at helping, but good at encouraging!!
FILE . . ANDRE . . .
He finds it hot. :/
If your anger is physical. He’s 100% gonna pop one when your fighting/screaming at someone
If you get mad at him, he’s gonna slowly…melt in his chair and look at you…and smirk.
Fighting/arguing he’s good with. Unless it costs him his drugs or weed or you getting severely hurt
He would offer to smoke pot with you, but if it’s one of those days you chill and watch some episodes of breaking bad to calm down
He’s not good with advice, like at all so expect something shitty like “anger is like…condoms in a way!” And he’ll get distracted and start talking about condoms 💀
If your anger is more like silent and glares, he’s just gonna take it the same way,
He will make jokes to try and make you look away from the person your staring at like “Hey Y/N! Don’t you think this chicken wing kinda looks like a dick? Y/N?” Once he realised that your twitching he’ll try and drag you away, talking shit about the person you was glaring at on the way
Overall he’s eh. He can be compassionate when he needs to, but tries to lighten the mood rather than pry you away from the person
FILE . . GLENN DOLPHIN . . .
Respect you.
If your anger is physical. He’s gonna start rambling about American “MY COUNTY STANDS BY WHAT Y/N IS DOIN. LEAVE YOU…(idk)” is what he would yell to anyone trying to stop you
If you get mad at him. I can see him sucking air through his..nose? And water coming out of his blow hole..?
Fighting/arguing? Bitch he’s joining in. He’s throwing a gun at you and telling you to shoot whoever
If it gets bad, then he’s there to listen. But he is TERRIBLE. At advice
Like I said he’s terrible. But he’s trying..though if he dose give advice..give it 5 minuets and it’s a story about war
If your anger is more like silent and glares, he doesn’t care ANGER IS ANGER TO HIM
He will feel awkward after a few minuets of you just staring at someone and he’s just sitting there..next to you
Overall hes terrible..BUT HE MEANS WELL
FILE . . MYC . . .
bros the reason your mad
#inside job reagan#inside job brett#inside job#gigi inside job#andre inside job#glenn inside job#myc inside job#brett x reader#reagan x reader#gigi x reader#andre x reader#glenn x reader#myc x reader
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Hey bunny! So do you think you can do general sfw headcannons for Reagan x fem!reader who works with her? If your comfortable ofcourse 💕
Hii, ofc!! Also, I personally write more "sunshine", sweet readers, but if you want smth different or more specific just let me know! I'm just a fan of the grumpy x sunshine trope lol. btw I'm so sorry for taking so long to write this, I hadn't written anything for months! Anyways, hope y'all enjoy this <3
Reagan x Fem! reader - Working with her
✦ I feel like there's a higher chance of her to like you if you're competent and responsible with your job, specially bc that would make you stand out since the rest of the gang is... a bit laid back
✦ Staying up late pretty often at Cognito Inc. to help Reagan, so she doesn't overwork herself (although she'd probably refuse your help at first bc she prefers to do stuff alone) and sharing tasks would make you both finish it faster
✦ Bringing her drinks and snacks to remind her to take a break once in a while, catching up with her and talking about whatever's on your minds
✦ You'd be a pretty positive influence for her, specially for caring about her well-being and reminding her that she doesn't have to work 24/7
✦ Inviting her(and the rest of the gang too) to hang out after work when she's had a stressful day, either going to some diner or staying in and maybe cooking for her?
✦ After a long day of work, you're both in her office/lab and Cognito is almost empty bc it's late, so you're just talking about your lives and you're able to get more vulnerable with each other
✦ Maybe that's the first time she kissed you, bc she realized you were the first person who actually listened and cared about her
✦ Going home and not being able to sleep anymore bc you keep replaying the scene of her kissing you for the first time and it makes you smile and gives you butterflies every time <3
✦ The next day she's probably acting all awkward and flustered with you, and the gang reacting to the both of you acting weird would be so funny lol, lots of conspiracy theories from each of them and maybe they'd even bet on who's right about what's going on between you two
✦ If you start dating, Brett and Gigi would definitely ship you two the most, but the gang would love to tease you about the relationship (although they'd still support you <3)
✦ Since no one is very much moral at Cognito Inc., I dare to say that she'd be a little biased when it comes to your work, and she'd let you off the hook many times simply bc you're her girlfriend
✦ Also it would be super cute if you were in danger in one of the "missions" and she saved you lol <3
#reagan ridley x reader#reagan inside job#reagan ridley x y/n#netflix inside job#reagan ridley#reagan x reader
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Requests??
Whats up gang? I’m super bored and decided I’d take on some requests! Right now I’m just writing for inside job (please request Brett I love him) and will write pretty much anything y’all request but there are a few rules. Im pretty open to most of everything so don’t be shy to ask!
NO AND I MEAN NO PEDOPHILIA, INCEST, RAPE OR NON-CON, AGE PLAY, OR FOOT FETISHES
I will write: Smut, Fluff, Angst (not rlly good at this)
Characters I’m willing to write for:
Brett hand(PLEASE REQUEST HIM)
Reagan
Gigi
Andre
Myc
(Maybe??) Glen
Ron
And probably some other ones I just can’t think of but just ask and I’ll give you an answer.
I’ll probably do mostly x reader rather than ships but still feel free to ask, you never know.
When requesting please mention preferred gender/pronouns (if it’s a x reader) what kind of story you’d like(smut,fluff, etc) and what character(s) and maybe extra if you’d like it to be a straight to the point, long, or headcanons.
If you are remotely racist, homophobic, transphobic, or just a straight up bigot you’re getting blocked instantly.
#brett hand#reagan x reader#brett x reader#gigi x andre#myc inside job#inside job#glenn dolphman#myc x reader#myc x andre#andre inside job#smut#fanfic#angst#fluff#brett hand smut#i love brett hand#requests#ron staedtler#inside job gigi#oneshot#long reads#x reader#inside job fanfic#inside job x reader
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may I request mornings with reagan?
Mornings with Reagan!!
a/n: YAAAYYYY MY FIRST REQUEST!!! here anon u get a lil gold star ⭐ i do hope this is okay though, it was more abt reagan and i hope thats alright!
- this could go two different ways; but either way its gonna be ROUGH.
- lets say, she actually slept!
- i feel like she snoozes ALL of her alarms.
- she obviously aint a morning person
- but the moment shes up, shes in this pissy mood
- she likes to go through her morning with no talking, unless you want lil mumbles
- NOW IF SHE PULLED AN ALL NIGHTER,,,
- shes gonna be in a worse pissy mood
- OMG I JUST REALIZED I FORGOT TO MENTION COFFEE.
- COFFEE ALL THE FUCKING WAY.
- she loves coffee. she drinks coffee all the time.
- although she drinks a tad more after an all nighter; because she probably was up over 24 hours.
- reagan is probably pass out after 3 days
- but its okay, bc youre there to take care of her :)
#inside job#inside job reagan#reagan ridley#reagan x reader#inside job reagan x reader#WHEN I POSTED THIS I FORGOT TO ADD TAGS. HELP.
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im right
(please don’t repost this anywhere, reblogs r fine just don’t repost this anywhere other than tumblr)
#reagan ridley x reader#reagan ridley#inside job reagan#inside job netflix#inside job#dr andre#andre lee#gigi thompson#inside job gigi#brett hand#inside job brett
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What do you think the Gang does when they have a crush? How do they react to realizing they're into someone? Thanks!
YYYEEEAAAA <333 This is. so cute mwamwammwamwa I love how fluffy and soft this is
all sfw!! Brief death mention for Myc's
Reagan
She's... oddly happy?
She expected that when she'd get a crush she'd feel. I dunno, dread? A Horrible Sinking Feeling That Would Crush All Excitement In Her? Pure Misery Of Some Sort? Kinda like how her parents were-
but no she. actually feels kinda. content about it. who would have guessed.
DON'T GET IT WRONG, SHE'S DEFINITELY NERVOUS JUST. not actively Panicking about it. yet. It'll come, don't worry MSMNSD
This hasn't happened in a HOT minute. And even then, most of her crushes growing up were like. Boybands. Carl Sagan. Ada Lovelace.
She isn't USED TO HAVING,, actual IRL crushes. People she can actually talk to, and interact with, and see. daily. constantly.
Yeah it’s the moments where her love for you sneaks up on her that,, really get her palms sweating.
UGH it’s. inconvenient in the best way. she feels silly and childish and also absolutely delighted. Like oh god she’s starting to ask if you want to hang out after work???? Help her with paperwork??? She doesn’t feel like herself, but also she’s finding a newfound love for taking the risk of opening up to someone???
TLDR. Stress. But good stress. Appreciated stress and inconvenience, that she has wrangled into something domesticated.
Brett
He falls in head first and never even thinks to dig himself out
TRULY HE STRIKES ME AS THE TYPE TO FALL SO HARD.
It’ll probably be after some Small Special Moment that was probably meaningless to you but everything to him?
Remembering his coffee order. Staying up with him to talk on the phone the day before a Big Presentation, to make sure he’s okay.
IT JUST ALL HITS AT ONCE. Like it’ll start as that and then ever little thing you do becomes so beautiful to him. Rose tinted glasses, sure, but isn’t rose such a pretty color?
AAA <33333 he’s so gooey and sappy and just UGH. Puppy love. He isn’t that close to you yet, but he’s already so attached!!!
He goes out of his way, more than usual, to do stuff for you? Like not in a creepy obsessive way (he worries himself A LOT about being. too much.), but just trying to help out wherever he can!! He wants to express how much he cares about you as often and as thoroughly as he can!!
This also means. you 10000% know he’s crushing on you. like instantly.
IF HE ASKS YOU OUT, PLEASE ACT SURPRISED. COME ON HE’S DOING HIS BEST SMDNSMD
Gigi
aaaAAAAAAA
She feels like a kid again what is this. what is she doing. how embarrassing. MSNDMSD
LIKE SHE. It's like when someone makes a really, really stupid joke and you're like Goddamn It I Shouldn't Find That Funny But I Do And I Hate Myself For It
YEAH ITS KINDA THAT FEELING
She's forgotten how it all feels like tbh?
it clicks when you two are doing something, and she is laughing her ass off like she hasn't laughed in 10+ years, and the very inconvenient realization hits her that she’s more comfortable with you than anyone else in her life right now. Like she’s back home.
For a second it kills her tbh.
She learned very, very early on that getting too attached to ppl in this line of work is usually just. a very uncomfortable hassle, if not actively agonizing mistake, so she really tries not to.
and yet, she’s can’t stop laughing, and she doesn’t want to try. She’s just so happy.
Oh well. The sun is shining and you are beautiful. There are worse mistakes to make.
Andre
wow.
For him it feels like. idk. coming up for air when you’re swimming. That cool, fresh feeling all the way down his lungs.
Like sure yeah he flirts with people, he’s flirty, he’s a flirty dude, but. this is so different
every interaction with you feels like there’s static energy building in his chest. Like if he actually touches you, there’ll be this massive explosion of colors and light that’ll make him feel balanced again in a way it hasn’t felt in decades.
It’s chemistry babey!! Pure and simple!! It’s that amazing swirling excitable connected feeling!!
He chases it so much!!!!!! <33333!!!!
He goes out of his way to interact with you, to talk to you, to meet you and walk with you and just. BE with you. He feels so much happier and calmer when you’re around.
he doesn’t know. quite where to go from that. He tries not to think about it too much, because the idea of what he’s feeling Right Now going away, or having to change, is terrifying.
Live in the moment, right? When has he ever thought ahead! This is good enough. He wouldn’t risk this for the world.
Myc
Well. Shit.
He hates it but also. he's been around the block long enough to know there's nothing he can really do when it gets to this point.
You think you're his first crush ever? NAH sdmnsmd he's been around for 4000 years, practically nothings new for him.
It is rare, though. He tries not to make a habit of it, for obvious reasons
He will, probably, try his usual Techniques (tm) to see if he can get the Feeling to fuck off though.
Distancing himself, remembering all your faults + the shit you do that annoys him, all the times you've pissed him off and are going to piss him off. How it's gonna feel when you’re gone.
If none of that works? Welp, not much else to do but hang on and enjoy the ride, however long that goes for.
50/50 on if he'll initiate an actual relationship
Sure, he's accepted his crush on you, that doesn't mean he's gotta go and get himself all attached. That's a whole different ball game.
If he does, you're more important to him than you could possibly imagine. He might not say it, but you are.
Glenn
He feels guilty??
Like holy fuck you could do so much better than him. Like so much better than him, oh God
This is also why he’s not even gonna think about asking you out. At least not for the first little while (6-10 months). Even if you start showing interest, this man is gonna be way too chickenshit.
He’s also. not subtle in the slightest. We’ve seen how he acts when he’s flustered, he’s an Absolute Bumbling Baboon of a man.
The most awkward attempts at flirting you will ever have to endure MSNDMS
mostly it’s whenever you swing by his office you will get the most Geriatric White Yeehaw Man flirting. he is not good at it and will be banging his head on his desk after you leave.
GOD I can’t decide,,, whether or not he’d ask for advice. Part of me feels like he’d try to keep it Bottled Up Like A Good Soldier but also. I can totally see him caving and spilling the beans to Andre or Gigi at the Slightest Provocation.
WHICH WILL OFC END IN,, at least a little bit of teasing. And some pretty decent advice. So maybe not all too bad of an idea
Overall?? Panic and guilt with a healthy dollop of Yearning, wishing he had the balls to actually approach you about it.
JR
Italicized Oh Moment
It's a surprise, but it isn't jarring? It's just this little Moment (tm).
Like putting the last puzzle piece into place. He's looking at you as you dance to some old 80s jams he's got playing in his office, half-singing the lyrics, and it just clicks that oh. he loves you. That’s what that horrible, cloying, feeling in his chest his. ah. Alright then.
He feels a little selfish for it, because if he were to ask you, it’d put you in extreme danger. Being close to him vs being officially with him, in that way, are two very different things.
But of course he does, because it’s you. He couldn’t possibly think of a way he’d let that opportunity pass him by. Maybe he’s selfish for it, but the future is someone else’s problem <3 right now he’s got you dancing in his office, he’s happy with that.
Alpha-Beta
oh fuck oh shit oh nononononono absolutely the fuck not nope nuh-huh try the fuck again nOT ON HIS FUCKING WATCH HE ISN'T-
he buries that shit 100000 meters down and pretends it never happened <3
come onnn this man,, has created his entire personality around being
absolutely perfect. Without needs, without wants, without attachments, The Ultimate Lifeform (tm) etc etc
hating humanity with every fibre of his being
this isn't a cutesy 'ohoho I haaaate it sopooooo much' NO HES FUMING HES SO GENUINELY IRATE.
its so inconvenient. its throwing a wrench in everything it is ANNOYING. You are ANNOYING. You ANNOY him >:(
^^ lies and half truths
He'll catch himself looping your laugh in his head and just. Gives himself a Look (tm) in the reflection of his tube.
He’ll have to actively resist initiating conversations, because he knows it’s gonna make him insanely happy to hear your voice and he’s trying not to get attached.
Is it all gonna come to a head in some Great, Crushing, Overwhelming Realization that his love for you completely outshines his hatred of humanity?
YEP BUT UNTIL THAT HAPPENS ITS DENIAL CITY BABEY 💃💃💃
aaaAAA <333 BRRBRBRB THIS WAS. SUPER CUTE. As always, feel free to add your own ideas, and thanks so much for the ask!!!!
#<333#inside job x reader#inside job#IF YOU HAD SMTH ELSE IN MIND PLEASE LMK!!! THIS WAS SUPER CUTE!!!#reagan ridley#reagan ridley x reader#brett hand#brett hand x reader#andre lee#andre lee x reader#gigi thompson#gigi thompson x reader#glenn dolphman#glenn dolphman x reader#sfw#myc#magic myc#myc x reader#magic myc x reader#jr scheimpough#jr scheimpough x reader#alpha-beta#alpha-beta x reader#robotus alpha-beta x reader#robotus alpha-beta#PHEW TAGS LONG#OK STARTING US OFF WITH A COUPLE. GONNA QUEUE UP A FEW MORE FOR TMRW.. WE'LL SEE HOW MANY I CAN BLAST THROUGH TONIGHT SMDNSD
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Inside Job — New Years
warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, 18+, mentions of sex, allusions to sex, heavy petting, makeout, mentions of alcohol and food, limited consumption of alcohol and or food, genderless reader, gender-neutral pronouns and pet names, mentions of family.
contents: pretty mild considering my other work but tagged adult for safety. cute kissing and making out with your faves, their new or old holiday traditions, mentions of food and drinks and holiday fun. Happy New Year drama free and fillied with fun. Hope y'all enjoy!
a/n: Happy New Years!! From me and the shadow board to you all!! 💖
Brett Hand
the two of you manage to tuck into the corner of the bar you were celebrating in, Brett wanting to join in on the tradition you had with your friends of celebrating out on the town for New Year's and having fun with the family you've found and enjoying the moments and the hijinks that nearly always tend to ensue.
Brett, for some reason, keeps thinking that your friends don't like him when they've threatened you with either stealing him away should you ever hurt him or break his heart or just outright trading you out for Brett. You can't say you're upset, you'd say the same thing. You love this man.
"Thank you for letting me come along!" He exclaims over the music and the noise, bringing you a refill from the bar of the drink you had, making sure to take your drinks and cover them whenever you stepped away or had to use the restroom, taking a sip to assure you they were safe even though you trusted him with your life and told him so, constantly, "I'm having a lot of fun, your friends are kinda' great."
"Funny, they're saying the same about you honey," you murmur in his ear, taking the opportunity to talk low and drape yourself across him like velvet in the cadence of the atmosphere, "telling me everything I already know about, like how wonderful you are, how charming and sweet you can be. How handsome and smart you are," you carry on, littering kisses on the underside of his jaw, uncaring for anyone who manages to see.
"My Brett."
"Your Brett?" he laughs, hesitant and a little nervous, surprised at how affected he is by that statement on your lips. He feels you nod against him as you drape the hand holding your drink over his shoulder while you press your forehead against his neck. "Mhm, they keep threatin' to replace me with you should I treat you wrong."
"Really?"
You nod in response against him, not noting the awe and surprise in his tone and how taken aback he is, always forgetting how your boy is so easily swayed by himself into thinking he's lesser when in reality, he's everything and more. The countdown begins, and quickly you're joined by your friends all gathering around to yell along with the ball drop and for the new year to begin, meanwhile you can't be bothered and have been unable to look away from Brett since the moment you laid eyes on him this morning in bed.
"Absolutely. Wanna' show off and be my kiss at midnight?" and Brett nods enthusiastically in response, taking the drink from your hand and downing it on one, very frat-like, go and bringing you back close to tell you how much he loves you between the both of you. He kisses you into the New Year and manages to do it for the rest of them, and they always feel just the same. Otherworldly.
JR Scheimpough
you celebrate New Year's at a party the two of you were invited to, dressing to the nine's and going out to dinner beforehand at some restaurant that was probably already booked out for weeks, if not months, and yet getting let in with ease from barely any effort from JR. Show off. After dinner, the two of you take a ride and head up to the party from the invitation, a top-floor party at some politician or CEO's place, a big band in full swing with an open bar. It's a black-tie event and you're glad you planned accordingly because you still both look more expensive than the rest do altogether. The two of you manage to sneak a few messy kisses in the elevator before you arrived on the floor, being able to fix his hair after nearly ruining it just before the doors open. If it's noticeable that he's flushed and his lips are puffy, no one comments on it.
after the usual schmoozing and small talk, the both of you sneak away to a balcony overlooking the D.C. spread, wind merciful and not being as cold as it could be in the night. JR comes back after refilling your drink to find you draped over the balcony and admiring the view before he joins you, commenting something coy in your ear and getting you to giggle before he hands you your drink and you both cheer, something murmured about great company and another year down, another to go as you clink your glasses together and drink in celebration.
After sipping away at the sparkling drink within the crystal flutes, he sets them both aside so he can take you in his arms and hold onto you while swaying to the music playing from indoors, Life Is but a Dream by The Harptones crooning low as you get swept up into JR's strong, steady arms and get spun out then brought back to his chest, your arms sidling around his neck as you play with the short hairs at the nape.
The song slows to something more melodious and lilting, Chopin if you had to guess, and listen to the countdown begin. He keeps you calm and grounded as the cheering picks up in volume, a large hand encompassing your hip locking you in the moment and not letting you get swept up away in the current of it all.
You get to soak up the moment with him, feel strong arms wrap around your waist as he makes you forget everyone else around you both, the countdown from the next room, and the fireworks nearly a city away firing off in the distance. All you can feel is him and his touch, the brush of his nose against your pulse as he hums the notes of songs that play softly against your skin, inhaling your perfumed scent as you sway chest to chest, wholly enveloped with each other rather than anyone else. You start the new year off right, with each other, and it's better than any other year you've had already.
Your gloved hand grasps his chin and lifts his head up to hover near yours, watching his eyes blink open and lid half-shut, peering down at you with a concoction of adoration and lust pooling in dark eyes. Counting down, you murmur the digits in the space between you both, telling him happy new year just before you kiss him and the new year begins, the old one still close by as you let him make you forget about it all.
He’s your New Year's kiss and every resolution you could make.
Alpha Beta Robotus
It's his first New Year beyond being locked up in the basement or left in tube-based solitary confinement. With that in mind and you making sure you take him home with you, not letting anyone have the mere idea of stopping you and your plan for the midnight countdown, you've set yourself on a mission to start the new year with him. And you intend on making it a good one.
"You've got mistletoe?" Alpha Beta stares quizzically up at the plant you've managed to hang high on your ceiling above the doorway to your kitchen between the hallway where you both now stand, "Isn't that a little excessive?"
"Only if you suddenly have lost interest and are letting me know that I've now got to find someone else to supply my kisses up to the New Year." You shoot back, looking up at him with a shit-eating grin he is tempted to kiss off, now that you've mentioned it, standing in your fuzzy socks upon the hardwood waiting for the sitcom-loving robotic bastard to just kiss you already.
While you're contemplating on whether to tug him in by the lapels or by his hair, Alpha Beta leans down and cups your cheek before kissing you tenderly, softly, with all the grace and poise of a noir heartthrob in one of those films you see off the classic movie channel. "No, I don't think I've lost any interest."
"That's sweet and all, but I'm afraid you'll just have to remind me, thoroughly." you murmur, eyes darting between his and then back down to his mouth, returning to glance up into glacier eyes just before he tugs you closer with a strong arm around your waist as he presses his lips to yours once more. He's picked up humming as he kisses you, another trait he's mirrored and adopted over time, and it feels better knowing that Alpha Beta's kissed you so many times he can't help but mirror it back to you.
By the time the countdown nears, he's got you spread and sidled on his lap, thighs encasing his as his fingers slide beneath the waistband of your pants and over your underwear, teasing you in strokes that match the tempo of the countdown and leave you keening against him impatiently. He tuts and chides at the show you're putting on and just as the countdown ends and the new year begins, you tug him into a kiss by his hair and he groans low, jaw clicking mechanically as his eyes glow a fraction before shutting.
Alpha Beta's hand finally begins to play with you properly and by the time you breach for air, you're dazed and beaming, already looking fucked out as you keep him close by his half-undone tie and grin.
"Happy New Year, AB, now fuck me until I forget it."
Gigi Thompson
She doesn't get a lot of solid downtime to spend with friends or family, so when she gets to enjoy herself and hang out with her loved ones, she goes all out. Gigi spent the holidays at home with you but convinced you to join along with her trip down to Georgia to see her family for New Year's, claiming that you're family to her the same as they are.
After a flight that took no time at all, spending it eating snacks and watching comedy specials, you manage to get to her parent's house in no time. The visit isn't as daunting as it could be, you having made the basic introductions and impressions at her family reunion last summer, already knowing her parents well enough to help out with cooking or setting up rather than just being left to stand around as a guest. You get the family treatment and damn if it doesn't make you a little teary-eyed.
"And you didn't think that they liked you," Gigi comments after prep is all set up and done, the two of you out on the back porch drinking tea and enjoying weather that's at least slightly warmer than D.C. "I can't help it, I'm always going to try and make a good impression, no matter how long I'll know them for."
Gigi laughs and gives you a pitying pat on the knee which you playfully swat away before she sips at her iced tea. "Can't be that bad, and besides, it's New Year's Day that's the eventful time. Eve just means drinking and talkin' shit before the rest pile on in tomorrow. That's when the real shit starts."
"Noted," you murmur into your glass before seeing the soft light of the house behind you both reflect on her face and how the night air makes her just glow. Her parents mention the countdown starting from inside but leave you both to your own devices. You take her hand in yours and squeeze gently, her matching it and then counting down between grasps of each other's palms as the countdown gets closer and closer to midnight.
Setting your drinks aside, you brush her hair back behind her ear and cup her cheek, careful not to muss her makeup if you can help it. "Love you, Gigi," you murmur, enjoying how her eyes don't hide the emotion in them, seeing her reciprocate in look before words. "Love you too, baby," she shoots back, lips in a blushy grin. You hear the final numbers said aloud and hear her parents celebrate from inside, maybe even a bottle popping, but you only focus on the woman before you as you pull her close and kiss her over and over again, starting a New Year tradition you'd like to continue to the rest of y'all's days. You do.
Reagan Ridley
With everything going on in her life, the last thing she needed was some unnecessary party that she'd have to get all dressed up for, fake some smiles, and give some unwilling hugs, all the while wanting to be curled up at home with you. And that's what she proposes and does. You have a lazy day, not even bothering to change out of pajamas until necessary, and even then you both change into clean sweats and old sweatshirts or tees. It's much needed, a lazy holiday, especially just being able to talk about everything and nothing while being sprawled across the couch or your bed and enjoying one another.
She's got movies selected and queued for the whole day, a mix of your collected favorites and some new ones the two of you had been meaning to watch but hadn't had the time to until today. Snack breaks come regularly, absolutely enjoying yourself while gorging down chips and popcorn and your favorite snacks while you've got Reagan's legs in your lap and toss bits of candy or popcorn into her mouth.
Her New Year's were always filled with family drama or facades, but this year, for the first time in a long time, she gets to enjoy it fully and not fake her smiles into something unreal. No, you earn and deserve every single crooked one thrown your way from her and you cherish each one received more than the last. There are naps and intermissions and moments where neither of you say a word for the entirety of the movie, only knowing each other are awake from slight movements or each other's hands grazing across each other's body. Other times the two of you are laughing so hard you're crying, over literally nothing at all and struggling for breath. The type of wheezing, hysteric, can-barely-hold-it-together laughter. It's a good sight on her.
The two of you are nearing the end of another movie when Reagan glances at the clock and sees that midnight is approaching fast. She scrambles up and into her kitchen, yelling from the other room that there's no need to pause the movie - which you do anyways - and hear her shuffle about and pull something from the fridge and pop a cork. She pours glasses and brings in two flutes of something bubbly and bright, either champagne or sparkling cider, and whatever graces your tongue has you grinning at her in your tattered sweater and fuzzy pants with the snoopy print.
Taking in the moment, you pull up onto the screen the ball drop and curl up against one another, infectious grins on both of your faces as you watch the countdown and share the experience. It's memorable and you'll never let go of the feeling you have when you're right beside her, hand in hers. It's electric.
Reagan kisses at your knuckle from your conjoined hands as her eyes are glued to the screen, counting along with the hosts for the ball drop meanwhile you're too enamored with her to look anywhere else, knowing you are exactly where you want to be now and want to be next New Years, and hopefully many more after that. She turns and spots your soft smile and blushes before the two of you knock your foreheads together, counting down the final 3, 2, 1, and kiss, languid and lazy and soft before breaching. You clink your glasses together, cozy back up against one another on the couch, and return to your movie. Pressing your lips to her temple, you wish her a happy new year, and as Reagan returns the favor against your collarbone, she wishes you the same.
Andre Lee
"I've never had a New Year's like this before!" You exclaim over the music, moving along with him beside you and letting him twirl you around and bring you back only to crash into him, stabilizing and getting lost in the high of the moment, and other things, as you stare at him beneath bright, glowing lights than drench Andre in rainbow hues.
"Well here's your first of many!" he shoots back, grin infectious as he giggles and squeezes at your side, stepping to the side to bring you closer to the music and standing behind you so you get the better view and he can look over your shoulder and head. "Enjoying yourself?" he says over the EDM that's blasting on the giant speakers up front, nearly as large as bikes if not cars. You nod enthusiastically, bopping along to the beat.
You take Andre's hands in yours, beaded bracelets and kandi clattering on each other's arms and wrists as you move along to the beat and feel yourself warm up even in the cold of December-turning-January, the heat of bodies warming the air up just enough to be perfect for the moment.
"That's good! Need another hit?" you shake your head no, thanking him anyway and he taps at your waist, signaling that he's going to unzip the bag at your hip, pulling out his THC pen that you decorated the other day with paint and little sticker-diamonds, making it look like Lisa Frank threw up on it.
Andre takes a hit, offers it once more to be sure you don't want any, they zips it back into your side bag before pecking the corner of your mouth affectionately, blowing the smoke away from you after holding it in for a moment. "Told you the bag was a good idea, can never hold anything in these tiny pockets." you murmur against his mouth, tasting faint flavor from the vape alongside the unwavering smell of weed, giggling against his lips.
Before he can respond, the DJ queues the countdown, and Andre jumps up and down excitedly beside you, eyes bright and glossy. "Oh I never asked," and before you can question, he kneels before you on the floor, taking your hand, and you know he's joking around but the sight still sends your heart into a frenzy, "sugar, do me the honor of being my midnight kiss?"
You laugh, pointedly mentioning that the countdown is going on as you both speak and he shakes his head, refusing to get up until you give him a formal answer. "Yes, Andre, I'll be your midnight kiss. Always." With a happy shout, he hops up to his feet and falters a moment before cupping both sides of your face between his palms and kissing you with enthusiasm, tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue as confetti rains down and the music plays, starting your New Year off just right.
Glenn Dolphman
He usually would spend New Year's eve with his daughter but she's with her mother this year. You decide to cheer him up and spend the holiday with him, appearing on his doorstep thirty minutes after ending a phone call with him after getting his update, bringing groceries from your home to his to make him food and make some new traditions you hope to share with him beyond just this year.
Glenn keeps telling you that you don't have to go to all the trouble for just him, and you continue to shrug it off in efforts to cook and care for him, shutting him up with doting, affectionate kisses in the meantime. You eventually give up and have him just sit at the kitchen counter watching as you move about, letting him help occasionally and tie the bow on the end of the apron, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks as you flush at his comment of how you look so cute in it.
"Goddamnit, just," you sigh, palms braced on the counter before you look up from the granite to him as he grins, pleased with himself, "just sit back and stop being sweet, you're killing me here." Trying to turn around, you go back to a mixing bowl of cookies and aim to reach some measuring spoons for the baking powder before you get swept up and placed atop the counter and closed in, Glenn's blunt nose knocking against yours.
"And just what do you think you're doing?" you chide, a hand on your thigh laying stagnant while the other immediately reaches for him, sprawled across his broad, solid shoulder as you feel his arms cage you in, safe and warm and secure with him surrounding you. "Testing my luck in the hopes of practicing my kiss for midnight."
You hum, brow raised as you peer up at him, looking from beneath lashes that blink doe-like. "Oh? Just like that?" Glenn nods and your hand smooths back to the hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging teasingly and pushing your own luck in the same way he is, knowing that mixing bowl's gonna' be abandoned until way later in the day, if not until late this evening.
"Alright, sarge, go on ahead, make me feel real lucky," you murmur, cupping his jaw and snaking your fingers in his hair to tug him close just so he can pull you against him and kiss you breathless, nipping at your lip tenderly in the way you taught him as not to break it, letting your legs attempt to lock around his waist. They can't even touch let alone cross at the ankle. It's safe to say those cookies don't get made until way past the countdown, and Glenn's counting off times you gush around him rather than seconds until the New Year. He likes celebrating this way far better.
Myc Celium
he doesn’t really give a shit about the New Year, mainly uses it as an excuse to get fucked up and party, but lets you have your fun, staying around at home and allowing you to press kisses across his orb and under cap gills until he’s flushed and the hues start flickering as you make him forget about the New Year while getting fresh with you.
You dress up a little and manage to get a party hat onto Myc, not without some expletives thrown your way tethered together with demeaning pet names, flagella still around your waist as you lean up on tip-toes to secure it around his cap and make sure it's not tight. He helps you stand and lifts you in order to get you higher, all the while he's calling you and your entire bloodline waste of space bastards
The two of you go about the day pretty normally, cooped up at home since there's no work party this year nor any enticing ones thrown by friends or family. The two of you just lounge about or get small tasks done around the house, display parallel play, and just do other things apart from one another while being nearby. Conversations flow occasionally and other times you can hear him on call with Andre while playing a game as you reorganize something or finally settle down to stitch those patches onto your jacket.
By the time it nears eleven, the two of you settle down for a movie, curl up with one another, greasy takeout or fast food, and watch a movie, something kitschy but classic like When Harry Met Sally. Myc constantly chimes in about how the dynamic is pretty similar to you, but he thinks he's Harry with the charm and wit when he's high maintenance enough to be Sally. You humor him and litter sticky, glitter-gloss kisses to his orb or the underside of his cap across downy-soft gills.
You had set a reminder for when it would near five minutes away from midnight just so you could give Myc a classic new year's kiss with the countdown. Timing the movie out perfectly, in a scene of fated clandestine brilliance, the final scene comes on the moment you start counting down until midnight in your head, voicing along the lines that are too sweet to ignore from Billy Crystal.
"- when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."
"Aren't you a sap?" Myc comments just as you grasp at the edge of his cap and cup the underside of his orb tenderly, leaning him down to meet you halfway as you countdown and finally reach one, murmuring happy new year against him as your lips brush his surface.
"Happy New Year, Myc." you breathe, leaning back flushed a minute later after he got handsy, feeling him nudge against you and crowd you against the corner of the couch cushions. "Happy New Year, sweets."
#jr#jr scheimpough#myc#myc celium#my inside job#personal inside job#my thots#jr scheimpough x reader#myc celium x reader#myc x reader#jr x reader#glenn#glenn dolphman#glenn x reader#glenn dolphman x reader#reagan#reagan ridley#reagan x reader#reagan ridley x reader#robotus#alpha beta robotus#alpha beta x reader#robotus x reader#andre#andre lee#andre x reader#andre lee x reader#brett x reader#gigi x reader#brett hand
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Reagan Ridley X Neglected! Child! Reader Headcanons
Hello there, welcome to another Reagan Ridley headcanon dump from me. Unless this is your first time seeing me, in that case, welcome 🙂.
Obviously these are platonic because this is a child reader and we don't do pedo shit here.
Also this takes place in an AU where Rand doesn't live with Reagan.
Let's go !
● Reagan one day was just driving home from work and that's when she spotted you on the streets.
● She at first didn't think too much about it until she noticed your rather... bad condition.
● Feeling sympathetic, she offered to take you to her place.
● You instantly took up her offer without hesitation.
● After explaining your situation, Reagan felt like she needed to take care of you.
● She knew what it was like to have shitty parents and a bad childhood and she would never wish it upon even her worst enemy.
● And so she offered to adopt and take care of you.
● A lot of tears were shed and hugs were exchanged that day.
Don't have anything to say here so... bai :D.
#reagan ridley#save inside job#renew inside job#fuck netflix#reagan x reader#platonic#child reader#still salty#yeah im still mad
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hello!! may I suggest sfw spooning with reagan hcs? ty!
Yes haha that’s so cute!!
SFW!
Reagan has a difficult relationship with physical contact, we all know that. She has to have a person that she trusts to actually let them touch her, she’s only comfortable with the gang and you.
You still needed to take things slow at first cuz she just wants really used to it.
But you two have been doing a shit ton of progress tho! hand holding and kissing, you know, it’s not too much but it’s not too little. It was perfect for her.
One night as you guys were just watching some random series on her tv she asked you if you can hold her, or at least try, she wanted to try it out cuz the idea of it seems pretty nice.
You were a bit shocked- she never really asked for something like this but you were more that happy to do that for her.
So she sat on your lap, as you had your hands around her.
She was a bit tense at first for slowly her body started relaxing. And oh boy-
She let out the biggest sigh of relief- she was quite literally melting into you.
Seeing her like this made your heart so damn happy. She was usually very stressed so watching her, melting into you like this was just <3333
I’m sure she fell asleep after few mins cuz she’s one tired gurl. You of course let her get her sleep. Cuz she really needed it
After this night, she was pretty hyped about cuddling and physical touch in general.
I imagine you holding her as she does her paper work. Or she just sometimes asks for hugs when she’s very stressed.
After the “tearing off hands incident” she was very anxious about the way she touches people. Like,, she thinks that she mind accidentally hurt you. Which she doesn’t want to cuz she cares about you.
She was ok with you holding her but her holding you was this unknown territory.
She’s always gets what she wants so she tries!! Tries to gently hold your hand, stroke your body.
Again, one night as you were coming to bed, she just randomly hugged you from behind. Her hands was firm around your body but you could feel trying her very best.
“Is this- Is this ok? Am I squeezing you too tightly?” She asked, you could hear the fear in her voice.
“It’s perfect love, thank you~” after you said that her body relaxed. The tense feeling was gone.
She then slowly dragged you into the bed, still holding you.
“This is nice- I like how warm and soft you are~” she muffed into your shoulder.
“It’s nice to hold you- finally, I wanted to do this for so long but I just couldn’t-“
You just let out a quiet hum as your hand reached to stroke her cheek.
“I know dear. I’m proud of you <3”
#inside job#reagan ridley#reagan ridley x reader#inside job x reader#reagan ridley hc#reagan ridley imagine#reagan x reader
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Yandere Reagan and Yandere Brett team up? 👀
Reagan doesn’t like the idea of a team up, I think of her as the kinda yandere that wants you to herself and hates any kind of competition and I’m inclined to think Brett is the same way. But I think they’d make exceptions for one another due to their friendship in canon, especially if you take this as polyamorous. They have very different ways of dealing with things however, Brett resorts to kidnapping and more extreme measures, whilst Reagan believes you shouldn’t be controlled like that and should live the life you wanna. Surprisingly she’s less problematic than Brett can be at times? But I think that’s just due to the abuse she experienced from her dad that makes her not want to control you too much.
#Reagan Ridley x reader#Brett hand x reader#yandere#yandere x reader#inside job x reader#brett x reader#reagan x reader#reagan x brett
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Cant take my mind off my Bretty boy 😍💕
TW: bl00d!
#inside job#save inside job#brett hand#fanart#digital art#netflix#art#drawing#artists on tumblr#inside job brett#brett inside job#shadow government#conspiracy theories#reagan ridley#reagan x brett#breagan#brett x reagan#brett x reader
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hey can u write some angst headcanons for reagan being vulnerable with a fem reader 🤎👩❤️💋👩THANKS ILY🪐🍓🍰
hii, my first ask!! you're so sweet<3
Reagan x Fem! reader - Being vulnerable
Oh boy we know how hard it is for her to be vulnerable, both physically and emotionally
She's never honest about her feelings, but it would probably start off as a silly joke, about her dad or how lonely she felt most of her life
But because you care about her, you'd ask more about it
At first she'd try to brush it off, change the topic and talk about something else, but if she felt comfortable with you and saw how you cared about her, she'd start to open up
She doesn't wanna talk about her feelings or past, but at the same time she wants so bad to let someone know all the stuff she went through
Mostly, she wants someone who cares about her, someone she can trust(another reason why it's hard for her)
Won't be easy to deal with, and most of the time you won't understand what she means because she's not the best at expressing herself(yet), but it's a big step for both of you
Might be a bit uncomfortable too, not gonna lie, but she'll appreciate it
You're the first person to genuinely care about her and actually listen to her, so this is a big deal for her(in a good way)
She'd probably try so hard not to cry, but with all of her emotions bottled up? Expect big reactions
She doesn't expect much of you, just listening attentively to her is already very important to her
Reassurance is also very important for her, making sure she knows she's not alone anymore and that you truly care about her
Physically? She'd rather take baby steps
She isn't really used to it, but if you're very touchy and affectionate, it'll start to feel normal to her
When comforting her, always ask for permission so she won't feel startled or uncomfortable
She might let you hold her hand at first, soft movements like the thumb thing or softly tracing her skin with your fingers
When she's more accustomed to it, you can cuddle and play with her hair(if she asks for it)
Overall, it might take some time for her to feel comfortable when being vulnerable, but she knows she can trust you with her past and baggage, and this is very important for both of you
#reagan ridley x reader#reagan ridley x y/n#reagan ridley#netflix inside job#reagan inside job#reagan x reader
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