#I LOVE MYC IN REAGAN'S BODY

[myc-ology-whore]

She'll Be Okay, Pt. 2

Reagan Ridley x GN!Reader

Read Pt. 1

So it's been several months since I posted the first part of this, and I apologise for that. I'm not quite as practiced as I was since it's been a while since I've written for this show, but I just binged all eighteen episodes to get me back into it, so hopefully I've at least kept things relatively accurate to the show.

As a refresher: (Y/n), Reagan's S/O, never got along with Rand. When Rand stole Reagan's position as CEO right out from under her, (Y/n) decided to take matters into their own hands, and now they've been detained at Cognito.

Thanks for your support!! <3

Reagan's sneakers slammed on the tiles with force as she ran toward Cognito's Underground Law Enforcement facility. It hadn't taken more than fifteen minutes after your arrest for word to spread around the company that the newly installed CEO had been murdered. Though it wasn't something anybody was particularly upset about, it was still startling to know that someone had just been killed in the building. Even if it wasn't, people love to talk; word was bound to get out at some point. However, not everyone knew who the killer was.

Sweat was beginning to bead on Reagan's brow as she turned a corner, rushing toward the elevators despite the aches in her calves from overuse. Gigi had heard of the shooting first out of your friend group, and she was quick to run to everyone else's offices to let them know. You were the only one missing, nowhere to be found, and unless this was some disturbing coincidence, they all could only think of one place you could be. Without thinking, Reagan had run off ahead of the group, though they weren't far behind; she heard their panting breaths and pounding footsteps just down the hall as she clicked the elevator button furiously, right on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Come on, come on, fuck! How are we one of the most advanced companies in the world, yet we can't get a fucking update on the lower level lifts?!" She slammed her fists against the metal doors, willing them to open, but the elevator only responded with a quiet beep as it hit the next floor. The gang finally caught up to her, all of them but Brett doubling over and resting their hands on their knees.

"Girl, I ain't-- I ain't never seen you run like that," Gigi remarked breathlessly, her heels in her hand. Smoothing her hair out as best she could, she straightened up and rested her hands on her hips. "You even outran Mister Olympian over here!"

She gestured incredulously at Brett, who was pacing nervously a few steps away. Reagan never took her eyes off the doors, her face desperate. "We have to find (Y/n)," she fretted, her whole body clammy from anxiety and adrenaline. "We... We have to..."

"Try to keep calm, Reagan," Andre comforted, placing a hand into her shoulder. He thought about offering her something to chill her out, but thankfully pushed the thought away. "We're gonna get there soon enough, you just have to keep it together, and--"

"It's here!" Reagan cried as the elevator dinged, signalling it's arrival. She forced the doors open faster as they just barely began to slide open, pushing them with all her might and not even waiting for her friends to pile in before pushing the button for the atrium level. Everyone crowded in beside her, barely managing to make room for each other in the tiny space before the doors were closed again behind them.

"Fuck, can't this thing go any faster?" Myc was pushing himself so tightly against the walls that he might as well have been crawling up onto the ceiling. "Hey, watch where you're stepping, mutant!"

"Now, you watch your mouth," Glenn barked back, glaring so hard that it looked like his eyes might pop out. "I can't help it none if there's no space to stand in here."

"Will both of you idiots shut up?" They looked to see Gigi glaring at them over Andre's shoulder, her eye twitching as she tried to restrain herself from shoving one of them. "We're all stressed and uncomfortable in here, alright?"

They grumbled something in response, continuing to glare at one another but keeping their mouths shut as they waited. After what felt like several minutes of tense silence, the doors opened up into a maintenance hall leading to the atrium. Reagan was gone in a flash, adrenaline helping her to ignore the feeling of her legs turning to lead from lack of exercise; the rest of the gang did their best to keep pace, but only Brett managed to remain right at her side.

"Reagan, Rae-dog," he huffed, nervous laughter permeating his voice. "You don't think (Y/n) is, uh... Well, they're not in trouble, are they? I mean, serious trouble."

"We work for the fucking Shadow Government, Brett! We erase people who get too out of line!" A sob wracked her body as she ran, making her stumble, but Brett snatched up her arm before she could trip. She sniffled as they fell to a jog, her best friend not allowing her to go any faster than that. "Thanks," she mumbled, "but I'm okay. We need to keep going."

"Reagan..."

"We have to!" Brett didn't argue any further, and let her lead the way to the detainment center on the second floor in the atrium, the others slowly catching up as they hit yet another elevator. "We're almost there," Reagan wheezed, easing into the lift; her energy was starting to fade, even though her mind was still steeped in anxiety. "Just... a little further."

They reached the second floor, and after a short trek down the hall, they arrived in the detainment center. Despite a murder just having taken place, things seemed calm; a few security guards milled about behind a window, and the assistant at the desk looked as though nothing interesting had happened all day. He barely moved when Reagan and the gang burst through the doors all sweaty and exhausted, merely flicking his eyes over at them.

Reagan swiftly made her way over to the desk, and the dead-eyed clerk raised a brow at her. "Can I help you?"

"Someone was brought in here earlier," she panted, leaning heavily on the counter. "(Y/n) (L/n)? We're here to see them."

"Sorry ma'am, but I can't let you in without the proper--"

"I have clearance, asshole!" Reagan slammed her company ID down on the counter with enough force to make the clerk jump in his seat. She sighed irritably and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sorry. This has been... a rough morning. Can we please just hurry this up?"

"Y-Yes ma'am," the clerk nodded, quickly moving to scan her card. His expression dropped with dread when something popped up on his screen, and he winced as he glanced up at her. "Uh, it says here--"

"Move, son," came a gruff voice, and another security officer appeared over the desk clerk's shoulder. He looked at the screen, then up at Reagan and the rest of the party, then sighed. "You're not supposed to be coming back here," said the guard, "but I've been talking to your friend back there. I'll let you back, but you won't have long, only a few minutes. You leave when I tell you to, understood?"

"Yes, thank you so much," Reagan agreed, nodding vigorously. "I just need to see them."

The guard left the room on the other side of the window and came to the door leading from the waiting area to the corridor connecting the entire holding wing. He held the door open and waited for everyone to pass through, then began leading the group down the hall to the cells. "My name is Grouper," the guard introduced as he walked. "I'm head of security here. I was the one who found your friend in the CEO's office."

"Is it really true?" Andre spoke up. "Did they really... kill him?"

"Mm, seemed damn proud of it, too," Grouper huffed. "Said it needed to be done. Can't say I disagree with 'em, but I wasn't gonna lose my job over it... or worse."

Reagan walked closely with the guard, at the forefront of the group. "Are they okay? Were they hurt?"

"Only one that got hurt was that asshole Rand Ridley," the guard snorted. He paused to fiddle with his keys as he reached the end of the hallway; a heavy-looking metal door was the only thing standing between (Y/n) and the group now. Reagan felt herself growing impatient as Grouper finally found the key he was looking for. She took a sharp breath as he unlocked the door, and held it unconsciously as it creaked open. "Here we are."

All the air left her lungs when (Y/n) came into view. They were sitting on a metal bench in the very first cell, eyes closed and head leaned back against the wall. Their hands were still cuffed behind their back, but otherwise, they looked completely at ease where they sat, their clothes still unmussed aside from a speckling of red across their stomach. "(Y/n)!"

. . . . .

You opened your eyes immediately upon hearing her voice, and stood as you saw her and the rest of your friends entering the room. "Reagan? Guys? What are you doing here? I didn't even know you guys could get back here!"

"Grouper let us back," Reagan blubbered, her eyes already seeping tears as you approached the bars of your cell. She pulled you tightly against them as soon as you were within reach hugging you despite your inability to hug back at the moment. "(Y/n), I was... I was so worried! How could you run off on me like that?"

"Seriously, dude," Brett agreed, coming to clap a hand on your shoulder between the bars. "We'd never have let you go if we knew you were gonna get yourself arrested!"

"Brett, I think you're the only one who didn't suspect that," said Andre, patting your arm from Reagan's other side. "Anyway, how'd you do it? There wasn't anyone around to stop you or anything?"

"Y'know, Andre," you laughed awkwardly, pressing a soft kiss to Reagan's forehead as she continued to grapple you through the bars, "I feel like this isn't the best time to talk about something like that, for several reasons."

"Still, you certainly could've been more subtle," Gigi griped. "If you'd just sat your ass down and waited for a minute, you could've brainstormed with us and not gotten yourself an express ticket to Shadow Prison X."

"I told you we shoulda just poisoned his coffee," Myc laughed. "Now look at you."

"Yes, this situation is absolutely fucking hilarious, Myc," Reagan snapped, tears streaming down her face when she finally pulled away from you to glare at the mushroom. "(Y/n) could be sent to Shadow Prison any minute now, and you're laughing? Some fucking friend you are."

"Hey, I never claimed to like any of your skanky asses," Myc sneered back, but Andre set a hand on his stem before he could go any further.

"Myc, c'mon man," hissed the scientist. "You're gonna get us kicked out of here."

"So what? I told 'em not to leave, and look where not listening to me got them..." Myc scuttled up to the bars, jabbing a flagella through to poke at your chest. "Right fucking here."

If you didn't know him better, you might snap back at him right now, but the mycelian was your friend. "I'm sorry, Myc. I did what needed to be done, though."

"Yeah, well we coulda done it together, dipshit," he grumbled, poking at you again. "Then you wouldn't've gotten caught."

"You can't know that though, buddy," you chuckled. Looking over each of your friends, you went on, "I am sorry - I would've saved some action for you guys, but I just felt the need to take the glory on this one."

"Selfish bastard," said Glenn, shaking his head. "And I was gettin' all fired up in the war room thinkin' about how we coulda taken him out..."

"I know, I know..."

"You're stupid, you know that?" You looked down at Reagan, whose hands were still fisting your button-up. "I hated Rand, you know that better than anyone, but... I still loved him. Not as much as I love you, not after what he did, but still." She closed her eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. "You really killed him..."

"Reagan," you soothed, voice soft, "you know it was for the best. He never could've run the company like you're going to. This is what you're meant for, you know. You didn't need him."

"I know that," she nods, sniffling. "He was still my dad, though."

You frowned, looking away. "I'm... sorry."

"No, no," she replied quickly, shaking her head. "You... You did right... I think? I don't know. Everything's just so confusing now."

"It's my fault."

"No, it wouldn't be so hard to know what I'm feeling if Rand wasn't such an asshole," she sighed, running a hand down her face. "I feel... relief? Guilt? Grief, of course, but... not as much as I thought I would. And... love." She looked up at you, grabbing your chin and gently turning you to face her again. "I love you, and I know you did it because you love me, too."

"Of course I do," you said, leaning your head as close to hers as you could through the bars. She leaned up to meet you, and your foreheads touched, but anything else would've been awkward - especially with your friends surrounding you. "I love you more than anything, Reagan. I'd do whatever it takes to make you happy."

"Jesus, would you can it with the mushy stuff already?" You glared over at Myc out of the corner of your eye. "This crap's making me nauseous."

"I'll just... go ahead and take him out," Andre laughed nervously. He came up to give you a friendly punch on the shoulder first, though. "You'll get out of this, man. We'll see you soon."

"I hope so," you smiled, rolling your eyes as Andre began leading the mushroom back out into the hallway. Gigi and Glenn approached too, their expressions sympathetic. "Don't look so sad, guys," you huffed, shaking your head. "You're bringing down my mood in here."

Gigi reached out to tap your cheek, a fond smile on her face. "You're just a ray of sunshine 'till the end, aren't you?" Her face falls a bit when you smile back. "I just hope things work out. It'll be a lot quieter around here if you don't make it out of this, honey."

"You stay strong, soldier," Glenn ordered from beside her, his face stern. "If you don't walk out of here on your own, we're not gonna let you go without a fight, y'hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Dolphman," you chuckled. As they turned to leave, you looked to Brett, who remained silent at Reagan's side, thoughtful. "Hey," you called softly. drawing him from within his head. "You alright, man?"

He was quiet for a moment, looking between you and Reagan, who'd buried her face in your chest again. He nodded to her, since she was looking away. "I'm just worried that... that things won't be the same again, if something happens to you. I'm trying to stay optimistic, but..."

"Things'll move on," you answered easily, resting your chin onto your girlfriend's head. It hurt you to think about it, but you knew Reagan was strong and determined. There was no way she'd fall apart just because you got 'disappeared'; you'd always been far more into her than she was into you, of that you were certain, and you liked it that way. It meant that if anything ever happened to your relationship, she'd bounce back. "I'm not so important around here that things'll stop moving forward when I'm gone. I'm just--"

"You are important," Reagan murmured into your chest, peering up at you with wet eyes. "You're the most important thing in the world to me, (Y/n), way more important than my shitty dad. I don't know what I'd do without you, I'd... I'd--"

She cut herself off with a sob, and you found your heart clenching as she wiped her tears away on her sleeves helplessly. "Reagan--"

"I can't lose you, too!" That shut you up. She sniffled and tried to catch her breath, her lips trembling as she tried to find her words. "I don't hate you for killing Rand, I don't, but he was still important to me, (Y/n). If I lose both of you in such a short span of time, I'll... I'll break."

Her cries overtook her, and you looked over her head helplessly at Brett, who looked just as lost as you did. Regardless of how well either of you knew her, Reagan didn't often cry; dealing with it wasn't easy, to say the least.

Brett set a hand on her shoulder, and let out a short sigh of relief when she didn't immediately shake him off. "Reagan, we still don't even know if they're actually going to be... taken away," he said carefully. "Just breathe for a second, take it easy."

"Reagan," you mumbled, watching as she tried to pull herself together. Guilt was starting to overwhelm you; you'd killed him for her, to prevent him from hurting her anymore, but if killing him hurt her too, then what was the point? "Reagan, I didn't mean for this... I didn't want... I just wanted to--"

Grouper cleared his throat from where he stood by the door, drawing your attention. He tapped his watch, then pointed his thumb at the camera situated in the corner of the room. You sighed, looking back down at Reagan, who'd also seen the guard's gesturing. She met your eyes, hopelessness swirling within her gaze, and your stomach twisted into a knot.

"We, uh... don't have much time left."

"No, we don't," she replied, touching your face tenderly. "Oh, (Y/n)... wasn't there some other way you could've made things better? I would've taken ice cream, you know."

You laughed abruptly at that, shaking your head. "I'll keep that in mind, next time," you snickered, ignoring the sinking feeling in your chest saying that there probably wouldn't be a next time. Reagan seemed to be hearing the same voice, her expression saddening more by the second. "Hey," you clucked, frowning at her, "I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I'll be with you no matter where I'm at."

She grimaced. "Don't talk like that," she chided. "You'll be with me here, in the office, saving the world from catastrophe together." She paused, a look of quiet determination taking over her features. "I'm not going to let you rot in here."

You raised a brow. "Is that a promise?"

Reagan grinned in return. "You can count on it."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Brett tittered nervously, not liking the plotting energy that was beginning to surround his friends. "I'm sure everything will work out fine. It's not like it's really an issue for the Shadow Board, right? I mean, they didn't like Rand, did they? So why would they be mad?"

"Whatever happens," Reagan said, her hands cupping your face, "I'm not leaving you behind, (Y/n)."

. . . . .

Alright folks, that's it for now. Frankly, I'm aware this isn't half as good as what I had down before, but I'm not feeling particularly inspired by this one. I liked where I left it before, truthfully, so I hope this isn't terrible. I feel like it was just a whole lot of nothing, but I just can't think anymore lol. I hope this isn't too terrible, but if it is, well, blame the writer's block.

I do have some other stuff in store that I'm more confident in, stuff that holds up to the old stuff I was writing on here. It's mostly Myc, but if you put in a request for another character, I'll see what I can do. Anyway, have a good night, y'all - I think I'm off to bed.

[ibelieveinthejrsupremecy]

hey, I saw that you opened requests so I hope this is acceptable :)

jealous/possessive hc’s for brett, jr, andre, rand, myc, and ron (just jr and rand if that’s too many) pls 👀 have a great day!

HC: Brett, J.R, Andre, Rand, Myc, and Ron being posessive/jealous

You got good taste, I'll give ya that 👀

And I'll be honest, 6 characters does sound like much but since this is my first ever request, I'll make an exception. These men getting jealous and possessive making me feel some type of way tbh 😳😤😩

Brett:

He would get jealous and possessive very easily.

Poor guy is so insecure of himself and often believes you can do better than settling down with him.

Rarely ever gets confrontational. But when he sees someone getting a little too close to you and getting too comfortable, he'll intervene.

But he does it in a way to where it's like a clingy puppy wanting attention. But also sounding just a teeny-tiny bit petty.

"Hey hun? Love? Not to be rude and interrupt this very lovely and interesting conversation but can we go now? Pretty please??" 🥺

Andre:

Does not get jealous easily but he does get pretty possessive sometimes!

He loves having an arm over your shoulders, around the waist, a hand on yours, on your hip. Just having any contact in general.

It's increased TENFOLD if someone makes a move on you, Andre will in fact be all over you. Kissing you out of the blue, calling you petnames, holding you pressed up against his body until the person finally gets the message.

If you try to call him out on it, he'll instantly get embarrassed because he didn't realize he was doing it.

Myc:

Oh boy...

Myc has literally got into verbal AND physical altercations for you.

Even if someone only so much as glanced at you in any negative or positive way, he'll start cursing them out.

It's worse if the person even thinks about you at all.

"COME ON BITCH! FIGHT ME! I KNOW YOU WERE THINKING ABOUT THEM!"

If you don't want anymore trouble than you already are, it's always best to drag Myc away and attempt to calm him down; with sweet words, a movie and some snacks.

If a fight happened anyways, he'll always say; "Bastard had it coming, no one gets to looks or think about you like that except me!"

Ron:

Ron is the the type to seethe when he gets jealous and will go eerily quiet. Going non-verbal as he holds your hand

Just staring down at the person with a glare, not even glancing away for a second. It's his way of saying; "Fuck right off."

When the person gets uncomfortable and finally leaves, Ron would huff and just stick by you the rest of the day.

If you ask him if he's OK, he'll lie and say he's fine.

But by the end of the day he does open up to you about it. And maybe even feel bad.

He tries not to let ot bottle up when he gets like that and actively tries to communicate with you when it starts to happen.

Rand:

This old bastard's ego needs to be in check at all times, so it's sorta?? A good thing for him to get jealous once and a while?🤷‍♂️

Listen, he's too narcissistic/egotistical for his own good, he needs to be reminded that you can do better than him.

Rand is a bit like both Ron and Myc.

Seething and glaring at first but eventually snaps at the person and will try to start a fight. No matter when or where it happens.

He just doesn't want to lose you like how he lost Tamiko and by extension; Reagan. You're too important and it always makes him insecure to even think about you leaving him for someone better.

J.R:

He is confident in your relationship and would usually get pretty cocky when he sees someone come up and try to woo you. Smirking and just watching with amusement.

The bastard is smug like that 😩

Though, there have been a few times he got worried when the person is younger than him. Since you are most likely younger than J.R, he's scared that you'll leave him for someone more your age.

So J.R always tends to get clingy like a Koala when he gets possessive, his arm always linked with yours. At the very least holding your hand.

By the time this person is done trying to impress you, J.R always has something quick-witted to say to either embarrass or even scare them off.

[moose-muffin]

Hi! I absolutely LOVE your HCs😂❤️ Is it ok if I request more? Specifically with lee!Ragen or ler! Myc?

YES OF COURSEEE

this is me at a DJ gig writing headcanons bc I am so motivated rn!!!!

ok so lee reagan right… she is LIKE SO TICKLISH BUT SHE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO REACT!? LIKE SHE WILL MAKE LITTLE CHIRPS AND YELPS BECAUSE SHE JUST DOESNT KNOW HOW SHES SUPPOSED TO REPLY! IT IS! SO ENDEARING WE LOVE HER!

LIKE OBVS touch in general is hard for her so like I get it girly, so sometimes things accidentally tickle and she’s like wtf is HAPPENING TO MY BODY!!!

FR though… she could be one of us! do I have evidence? Not really but the childhood trauma really makes me think

She is so curious about tickling as a concept too. Like she would do anything before admitting it so of course her solution is robots. Queen definitely borrowed the productivitron to uh… test human response time? yeah! That works..

Of course she gets caught by Brett and he is absolutely obsessed and asks if she wants his help (god knows he doesn’t know much about it either but he pretend he does and so they learn together)

As far as Myc goes he does it to be an asshole bc we love him for what he is, which is a jackass.

That is very evident in his style of tickling because he goes for the worst spot first and dishes it out like cray cray!!!!! he will not hesitate to hold a bitch down and wiggle his little tentacles to tickle them to bits!!!!!! He is so terrible <3

Also he is a ler like??? I don’t think he is super ticklish and I’d say if he is it’s a feeling he can turn on and off. His mushroom self has so many quirks it’s wild!

I am SO SORRY These took me so damn Long to get out BUT HEY! we did it!! I hope you enjoy honey and thank you for your patience!!! <33

[bugtoon]

YES YES YESSSSS. I’m definitely overthinking a lot of this but I can’t imagine anyone other than Myc and maybe Reagan would be playing self inserts. Andre could easily make a game breaking build that would make them totally unstoppable (cough, the infinite spell sorcerer point glitch, cough) but he realized making a goofy character would be more fun.

If they were playing self inserts, brett would easily be a politician bard, Gigi a college of whispers bard, Andre an alchemist artificer, Myc ofc the literal definition of a circle of spores druid, alpha beta a ghost in the machine warlock, and Reagan a mastermind rogue.

As someone who has an artificer in my dnd character roster playing an artificer fucking BLOWS. Maybe it’s because I’m more used to playing bards but, like… how do I say this. FNAF 2 has less bullshit to keep track of than a single round of combat as an artificer, and it’s so difficult to keep everything organized. Reagan will be way too busy micromanaging her team to keep track of (checks my notes) infusions and potions and magic items and attunements.

Reagan as a fallen aasimar shadow sorcerer is something so personal to me. The thing about sorcerers is that the magic they have comes from a bloodline, not from their own choices. They’re the trust fund kids of the magic user classes. The implication being: Reagan’s character is basically a fallen Angel. Reagan’s character also has something in her family lineage that wields incredibly powerful magic. Shadow magic specifically. I just think it’s interesting to think about.

Brett’s character is a very happy go lucky girl. She comes from a happy family, from a world where everything is perfect. She’s lived a very sheltered life, and is about to be shown all the ways things can go wrong. I like to think Ron has plans for the sheep Brett’s character is chasing— maybe making it some kind of monster. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. (Also, sheep imagery in the context of who brett is as a person. Gestures vaguely.)

Gigi very nearly played a bard but couldn’t shake the image of a goofy lute playing traditional bard. Rangers have a LOT of battlefield control and are sooooo easy to make into unstoppable killing machines. The enemy can’t kill you if they can’t even touch you. I think it’s cathartic for Gigi to play something other than a face character but eventually I think she does end up taking a few rogue levels just for fun. Fun and sneak attack bonuses.

Myc eventually gets a moment in the spotlight with his character and absolutely loves it. He eventually decides his character was lost in another dimension for a while as well and went insane, but now he has fucked up magic spells.

Alphabeta is mostly using his little gnome character as wish fulfillment as well. He approaches Ron privately and they plan out a super convoluted scene where it’s revealed alpha beta’s character sold his body for knowledge in a futile attempt to bring back a dead lover— a dead lover whose body he now inhabits. It’s very complex. Ron does have several walls of the house just full of conspiracy boards.

Hi here’s my “the gang plays dnd” concept.

Ron is the dm and yes he does wear the big hood when he dms.

Brett plays a peace domain cleric half-orc. He doesn’t realize it because he’s not using the mechanics to the best of his ability at first but he could easily be doing some game breaking shit as a support caster. His character is named Joan (after Joan Jett) and she grew up with a herd of satyrs who all loved her soooo much. One of their prized sheep went missing though so she’s on a mission to bring it back to the flock.

Gigi plays a beastmaster ranger high elf with a unicorn companion. Both of them are unstoppable forces of death and destruction. She didn’t have a backstory thought out until she stumbled into it via improv. Her character was part of a doomsday cult and she was literally dragged out by the unicorn she sticks with right before everything went down. It deemed her pure of heart and decided to save her. Now they are a well paid assassin duo.

Andre has been playing dnd since middle school. He knows his shit. He plays as a high elf circle of spores druid. Very much wish fulfillment. Myc was fucking FURIOUS when he found out that was a thing and Andre did it first.

I try not to think about glenn at the best of times. He doesn’t get to play. If he did he would probably play like. Battlemaster fighter or something lame.

Alpha beta however does get to play. He plays a pact of the tome warlock gnome. Yeah. A gnome. This gnomes patron? Cuthulu itself. The gnome used to be a powerful prince. He made a pact in exchange for infinite knowledge and power. Unfortunately, he got turned into a gnome in the process. [Brett tells alpha beta they should watch the emperors new groove together later.]

Myc plays a tiefling evocation wizard with a stupid high charisma stat and keeps trying to fuck everything in his path. He made fun of Ron for running the game at first but quickly realized everyone else was down for it. Unfortunately he had made one too many jokes about “wizard bullshit” and ended up playing a wizard. He’s really mad he keeps getting knocked out. Glass cannon problems.

Reagan is playing a shadow magic sorcerer fallen aasimar. Her character was sent from a higher plane to warn the lower planes of something horrible coming, but something hurt her on the way. Now she has no memory of what she was supposed to warn people about. And worse yet, a shadow creature keeps following her.

[sin-sidejob]

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

[flyingspicerack]

Inside Job Pt2Ep3 Myc Analysis Pt1

ALRIGHT FUCKERS! AS THE OFFICAL CEO OF MYC ITS TIME i GIVE YOU MY BREAKDOWN ON EP 3 BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE WILL!!!!!

THIS IS GONNA BE A BIGGUN AND PRETTY MUCH A PLAY BY PLAY SO STRAP IN!!!

The way he's clinging to the rope here? Oh so cute. But also! Very telling of how he's able to distribute his weight? Body and tendrils seem much like.... idk squid/octopus like? Also in this scene, all of the insults he throws around <3 He's such a catty little bitch I also love that Gigi is the one he doesn't insult the most through the ep? Like I know everyone is like OMG ANDRE AND MYC are such good 'friends' and all that (yes i am one of those too) but we see in pt1 that Myc and Gigi hang out a fair bit and I like to think he's got like, a respect for her? Idk

The fucking way the little itty bitty orb inside his orb gets smaller when the flashlight from the security guard hits him is so brief but oh so important to me, oh my GOD this little bit of detail has me HGFUIEOHGFOI:SGHJIO

HHHHH OK FIRSTLY! Reagan tells Myc to, and I quote "Spurt on that guy!" And he refers to himself as a soft serve machine that needs to warm up and cannot just jizz on command, which definitely makes sense. He also says for no one to look at him so.... hes shy

SO THAT leads me to believe, that his jiss doesn't actually need to be processed at all to become the stuff they put in the memory erasing guns, so, they can just erase minds... SO what does that mean for sex with humans, as well as that one time Andre licked Myc's flagella on the yacht during the wedding, he didn't get erased.... thoughts thoughts thoughts

REAGAN YELLING AT HIM AND CALLING HIM A WASTE OF SPACE FUCKING HURT ME

OH MY GOD BABY! NO DONT CRY!!!!!!! UAOGH WHAT THE FUCK

Reagan: Okay I was not ready for that" ME NEITHER BITCH????? MYC CRYING????? WHY WOULD HE CRY????

WAS ANISE RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING IN THAT MYC IS ACTUALLY A DWEEB???? UH YEAH?????? IM AS SURPRISED AS YALL ARE

god ok you guys im never gonna stop talking about this, we got so much mushroom lore, we have so much mushroom plot, we have so much MYC LORE AND I AM HERE FOR IT!!!!! AND IM WRITING IT ALL DOWN IN ONE PLACE!! RIGHT HERE!!!

Myc LIED about how old he was prior to this. In Pt1Ep3 we see his RightSwipe profile says 4041 for his age, but this here is his 5000 year reunion, so he's says he's younger than he really is.

He's from "A million year old mushroom hive cluster from the center of the earth" MILLION!!!!!! HES OLDER THAN WE CAN EVEN COMPREHEND

FIRST he apparently lied and said that everyone was jealous of his "huge dong" and he left, THEN JUST IN THIS SCENE, he says that they kicked him out because he was too much of a rebel, AND THEN AT THE END OF HIS RANT he finally comes clean and says that he never went to prom, graduation, AND no one signed his yearbook BECAUSE HE WAS A FUCKING DWEEB THAT LOOKED LIKE THIS:

(yeah honey i'd hate you too)

he was .... a fucking DWEEB! HE WAS A NERD!! THE BRACES?! THE PIMPLES! THE.... somehow.... FACIAL HAIR?? The hat.. yeesh boy ouch

WHEN HE LEFT HE WANTED TO PROVE HE COULD BE SOMEBODY! oH MY LORD!!!! HE CALLS HIMSELF A SINGLE MIDDLE AGED LOSER.... HOW OLD IS HE IF HES MIDDLE AGED IM GOING INSANE OVER HERE!!!!!!!!!

also his name, can we take about the name we have a real full name for him its not Magic Myc, its fucking MYC CELLIUM im going feral here and frothing

This uh.... this makes me..... hes so.... PATHETIC!! He's crying!!! HES FUCKING WHIMPERING AND CRYING AND SNIFLING CAUSE HES SO ASHAMED ABOUT GOING TO HIS REUNION LIKE WHAT THE FUCK HES LITERALLY BABYGIRL I DONT UNDERSTAND???????????????????

why are you so moe? WHY ARE YOU THE CUTEST GUY EVER! HIS GASP! Also like, Reagan, you REALLLY think this dude is never gonna insult you again? I thought you were a super genius? How can you literally be this stupid.

SORTA MUCUS SORTA JIZZ CALLED JUCUS!!!!!!!

I think it is SO AMAZING that the hole down to the mushroom hive is in Oregon, cause like, the worlds biggest mycelium network is under there.... hehe

FRUITY FLAILING ASS BITCH!!

OK If you go to 4:40 and look in the bg, you can see Myc get on the elevator down and he is fucking TREMBLING!! HE is SO nervous!! IM FUCK NGKJENSfewtgfwsg

Myc confirmed leftist, so thats a W but an L for thinking u can ge a nobel prize in podcasting... then again hes a mushroom and doesnt care so he is always a W in my heart

Look how far his flagella can stretch

HOLLOW EARTH! OH ITS SO LOVELY! AND I HAVE A LOT TO SAY ABOUT IT

I am very curious to know, if when Myc tells the hive to put a 'psychic metaphor' over the place, is that... only for the characters in the show or is it also for the viewer? It has to be, because we are also human and therefore wouldn't be able to comprehend the societal differences of mushroom dynamics! RIGHT?! SO I will also touch upon things as they happen later with this mindset.

FUCK!! RIGHT HERE!! Myc's asking Reagan if his BREATH smells bad!!!! He touches the top little frills and then puts his tentacle under Reagan's nose!! Does he... His scent glands?? WHAT?? AHHHHH I DONT KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS???

... I got one thing to say about stem-mantha... myc sure does love pink bitches .... makes eye contact with anise

LOOK AT HIM ALL.... NERVOUS!

Okay so then... Stem-Mantha asks if Myc was the guy who did puzzles with her parents so she could go have sex... SO, yes, the fucking mushrooms DO fuck each other, AND they have like, parents They dont just grow?? (As seen from Myc wanting to be a mommy in Pt2Ep7)

THEN Myc gets fucking pelted with a goddamn football and we are now included on the information that Myc ran out at graduation before everyone merged consciousnesses and became assimilated. SO It is OH SO interesting to see that each of these mushroom clusters are there OWN individual personalities but THEN they all are joined and have a shared consciousness thats a part of the hive!

Stem-Mantha then asks if the gang are Myc's parole officers, so does that mean that everyone was under the impression he went to like, jail topside after he left hollow earth??

HIS TENDRIL HEART IM FUCKING LOSING IT AHHHHHHH

ALRIGHT!!! FUCKERS FIRSt things first. Yes he wore that stupid fucking "NO FAT CHIX" hat but are we talking about it? NO, well YES, in that he wore it because he was in denail thats it thats the story thank you very much

SECONDLY here is were I'm touching upon the psychic metaphor thing again right here. I am thinking waaaay too deeply about a silly little cartoon and i feel very much like 'charlie pepe silvia meme' right now in idk how meta this whole thing is supposed to be? Like I don't think Myc was actually into dragon ball Z considering it was 5000 years ago and dbz didn't exist then, and we're just supposed to believe dudes was the mushroom equivalent of a little itty bitty pathetic nerd with pimples and acne, right??

but im also crazy coo coo bananas insane in thinkiing how fucking funny would it be if dbz was some kind of true space epic and myc is like, the equivalent of a greek mythology nerd in that hes a little fanboy.

THIRDLY. MY MANS GOT EXTRA STRONG POWERS THAT MAKE HIM EXTRA SENSITIVE?????? HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NURSE

His fucking signature babygirl i loooove you its so cute what the FUCK!! and look at how he carried himself like a fucking .... beanie babie, hes full of beans or whatever, i just love how this fucker carries his weight its so cool to look at wtf

HES NERVOUS AGAIN IM JUST GFJHEL"GSGJ"LG I KNOW ITS NOT IMPORTANT BUT IT IS TO ME

They are SO fucking mean to him. But also this scene, you can see that not everyone is on board with Reagan doing this, like they're all really uncomfortable when she pulls this picture up, and Brett isn't even there

Why is there so much jucus... was he tearing up about getting found out? OH LAWDY I HOPE NOT ILL FUCKING CRY?????

HAHHA SO this post has gotten waaay too long so i think i'm gonna make it two parts, so part 2 will be post assimilation!!! Also because posts can only have 30 images and we at the max babes

[brettsshrimp]

so I've been having many thoughts about like a sweet yet kinda oblivious reader with the group. These are just general ideas but if anyone wants me to elaborate on any let me know:o

cw // drug mentions

• bringing everyone their favorite coffee in the morning and always having little snacks

• when Brett starts working there, you ask what his fav coffee is, and he doesn't think much of it, thinking it's just an ice breaker or smth, but the next day you come in with his fav drink along with the others and he's just,, stunned. like,,, he didn't think anyone would do that since he's knew,, he's just like?????hmsnxj,,

• also having bandaids and wipes along with the snacks in a little backpack or purse

• Brett comes to you a lot with a papercut or some other minor injury and a pout on his face asking for a bandaid. he loves the care that you give, wiping the cut then carefully putting the bandaid on,,, he's soft,, especially after the smile you give him, telling him to be careful,,

• helping Glenn with his divorce therapy if he really wanted to work on his personality after the body switching thing. like helping with listening/ trying not to yell ect.

• when a session goes really well you take him out to dinner, or something he's been talking about wanting lately. even if a session doesn't go as well you remind him that's okay!! progress isn't linear and you're still proud of him!!!

• being shopping buddies with Gigi, and getting your nails done together. Also trying to help with like making media trends, whether it's like memes or fashion, she likes hearing any ideas you have

• Myc and Andre have tried to make dirty jokes and innuendos but they always fly over your head. it used to drive Andre crazy but Myc was always amused seeing your confused face, trying to understand the joke. At first Andre thought you were just messing with him but Myc confirmed that you really just didn't get it

• I like to imagine that one day while you were still relatively new to the job, Andre came up to you and was like what the hell are you on?? since you've always seemed so happy, patient and just? over all bubbly. and you're just like "??? on what??" Andre just kinda laughs until he realizes your serious

• he kinda wonders if you even know more than 5 drugs. I also like to think that at some point he takes the time to teach you how to tell when someone spiked your drink, even if you don't go out much. he just wants to make sure your safe and having a good time<3

• he's also like hey, if you ever decide you wanna try drugs, hit me up! he'll make sure you have a good and safe time,,

• going off the dirty joke point, one time you were trying to learn more about Myc's species and Myc found out, and he was like hey, if you come over to my place tonight, I can show you a thing or two. rather than being flustered or smth along those lines like he was expecting, you just kinda got excited in an innocent way, wondering what he could show you

• he even put a tentacle on your shoulder and there just,, wasn't a single dirty thought in there. it was just you wondering what he could show you, and what snacks he might like hnfhfj

• hanging out with Reagan, listening to her talk about a new invention or something her dad did. or if she's not in the mood to talk/ focusing on her work you're happy to talk about random things

• also bringing her drinks and food, making sure she isn't overworking herself too much

• Reagan tries really hard to keep you away from her dad, even if it's impossible. she doesn't want him hurting you in any way or trying to manipulate you into doing something for him,, she wants to keep you safe from him,,

• doing their nails and hair on (somehow) less busy days. even though Myc doesn't have either, you still decorate him with little accessories so he isn't left out,,

• I like to think Myc and Glenn call you kiddo. Myc uses it more to just tease you while Glenn does it more out of seeing you as a kid he never had(though he won't admit it just yet)

• you and Brett totally get together and plan little surprise parties. like nothing extreme just a little thing for everyone to calm down. like there's everyone's fav food and drinks. even if it isn't a birthday party or Christmas, you get little gifts for everyone, even Brett who didn't see it coming:(<3 (he might tear up a little hnmsdjd,, I love him)

• Myc probably read your mind once while you and Brett were planning a surprise party and totally spoiled it for everyone. he got the cold shoulder from you for a day or two after,, was it a little overdramatic? yeah

• also!! being excited to go to the 80's town too! even if you weren't born in the 80's, or really understand the hype of it like Reagan, seeing Brett be excited about it has you getting a little excited too. you totally dressed up with Brett which made him so happy

• lord have mercy on anyone that makes you upset. if any of them finds out someone hurt you in any way, that info spreads like a wildfire to the rest of the team, and you have to stop them and reassure them you'll be okay before they completely ruin the person's life jsnshk

• they just really appreciate you being there for them and wanna be there for you too:(<3

[cognitosclowns]

THE POST ABT THE GANGS LAUGHS KS IMMACULATE here's a couple other prompts. the gangs hugs, handshakes, or sleeping habits just bc I love your characterization!!!

HHHHHHHHHHHH THE TEMPTATION TO DO ALL OF THE ABOVE AND WRITE AN ESSAY IS,, SO FUCKING TEMPTING ANON YOU HAVE NO IDEAAAAA.

YOU'RE GETTIN HUGS <3333 EEE ALL SFW, JUST SOME CUTENESS.

Tw : brief weight mention!

THESE ARE GONNA BE GOODBYE HUGS. A BIT ROMANTIC I GUESS,,, DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING SPECIFIC IN MIND BUT RRR <33

REAGAN

WE SEE IN THE,,, BRETTFAST CLUB EPISODE THAT!! SHE'S OK WITH HUGS FOR PPL SHE'S VV CLOSE TOOOO!!

So if you're her close friend or s/o? YOU,,, MIGHT GET AN ACTUAL HUG? Not just a little Pat Pat? LIKE ARMS FULLY AROUND YOU? Quite Shocking Quite Surprising

She tends to wrap around and grab the shoulders!! It's One Firm Motion that slowly disconnects, like a hydraulic press?

'don't die, I'm too tired to plan a funeral' SHE CARES SHE CARES she really wants you to get home safe <333

SHE MIGHT MESS WITH THE TRAFFIC LIGHTS TO GIVE YOU AN EASY RIDE HOME <333 NOT HUG RELATED BUT,, VERY REAGAN.

BRETT

HE LIFTS YOUUUUU STRAIGHT UP. He makes a big 'H-yup!'

HE HUMS ALL THROUGH THE HUG <33 he smells So Strongly Of Axe Body Spray but,, its ok bc he's grinning like an idiot. So happy. Hugs rock.

He'll like,, bounce his knees?? Like going up and down?? MNSDMS ITS HARD TO DESCRIBE.

HE ALSO DEFINITELY LAUGHS. just a happy little giggle <3 he loves hugs, idk what you expected. Might nuzzle his nose into your shoulder!

HE MIGHT MAKE HIS 3: when you two gotta pull away. GIVE HIM ANOTHER HUG, HE'LL LIGHT RIGHT BACK UP

'one of us has gotta let go, or you'll never get home ! :)'

BIG WAVE WHEN YOU LEAVE!!

GIGI

OH,, just,, the happiest hugs. She hugs like she's got Pure Joy flowing through her. Saying goodbye is never a sad affair with Gigi Thompson!

SHE'LL PROBABLY MAKE SOME JOKE ABOUT YOUR HEIGHTS.

'If people keep getting taller im gonna need new legs.'

'if you wanna stick around i could just shove you in my purse <3'

JUST,, LITTLE THINGS <3. SHE LIKES SEEING YOU SMILE.

ARMS RIGHT AROUND THE WAIST <3 synched in like a belt!

SHE DOES THAT THING WHERE, SHE SHIFTS FROM ONE FOOT TO THE OTHER!!

SHE DOES LA BISE <3 she picked it up from living in France for a few years for a Big PR Campaign she working on, and it stuck!! A kiss on the cheek before you're off <3

ANDRE

SURPRISE ATTACK! YOU'VE BEEN TACKLED! NO ESCAPE!!

he'll tackle you onto the nearest couch and just lay there with you

'sorry i can't let go ://// tragic guess you've gotta take me home with you now <3'

SNBDSNDB HE'LL LET GO EVENTUALLY. until then it's a buncha jokes

'Nice weather huh?' while his face is Accidentally Buried In Your Chest, etc. HE ONLY LETS GO WHEN HE MAKES YOU SMILE <33

If He's Not Out For Blood lmao, HE THROWS HIS ARMS AROUND YOUR SHOULDERS. he's pretty lanky so it gives him a leg up for Yanking ppl in!!! Big, tight Squeeze before letting go.

MYC

'GOTCHA!' TENTACLES ALL TENTACLES WRAPPED AROUND YOU. Feels like you're being JUICED with how tight his hugs are.

he might do some,, like,, tricks? Like turn you upside down or smth and be like 'watch outttt,, might drop you ;) its okay if you hit your head you don't have a lotta brain cells left to lose'

(DW,, he'd never drop you. His tentacles are surprisingly strong, he's just a dick <3)

'ok ok ok ok..' while he brushes you off after, fixes your hair a bit. Might make some comment about how you shouldn't take a specific road bc it's gonna be clogged, etc, etc.

He Does Care, Hes Just A Brat.

'hate to see ya leave, but i love to see ya walk away' IS SUCH A LINE HE'D SAY. I HATE IT. HE'D ABSOLUTELY SAY SOME SHIT LIKE THAT. <3 INSUFFERABLE.

GLENN

BEAR HUG BEAR HUG BEAR HUG.

God,,, you could just melt. The warmest, softest thing in the WORLD. He might even pick you up and swing you around, if he's feeling particularly fuzzy <3

YOU DON'T WANNA LET GO EVER EVER EVER. SOFT SOFT SOFT WARM WARM WARM.

THIS,, REALLY LOVING, HUMMING LAUGH?? it cracks him up that most ppl are tinier than him?? Look up and it's all teeth <3

HAIR RUFFLES NO MATTER WHAT <3

doesn't matter your weight, he's gonna mention you need to put some meat on those bones!! It was too easy to pick you up!!

'Be safe soldier' grgkrkg <3 lots of shit like that. Just,, half-teasing army slang n stuff?? YEA THAT'S HIS JAM <3 Maybe a little,, Two Finger Salute and a wink when you exit out the door.

ALPHA-BETA

He,,, might not be that good at hugs-

HE DOESN'T DO THEM OFTEN OKAY? When he says goodbye he much prefers,, A Dainty Kiss on the Cheek, A Handshake. hugs are not his first instinct smdnsd.

When he first wraps his arms around you,, it's kinda tense?? He doesn't Squeeze first - he wants to see how hard YOU squeeze, and work around that.

It's still gonna be a Little Too Strong, sorry. Kinda knocks the wind outta you.

HE,,, is actually soft and warm?? You definitely wouldn't expect it bc he's 99% metal but above that metal is SILICONE. HE'S ALSO A COMPUTER SO,, he has the same Dull Warmth of pressing your hand to the side of a computer.

Fussing With Your Clothes When you Two Pull Away IS A Love Language. He'll passively adjust your shirt n sleeves with,, the Barest Of Smirks.

JR

feels like,, hugging a bushel of twigs. He's extremely lanky smnds. Very little softness except a bit at his stomach

he just,, automatically Sighs happily <3 even if you two are saying goodbye, it's so nice to get a hug once in a while.

he either rests his head on your shoulder, or head. Either way you're getting some nuzzles.

It's like all the energy in his body Drains when he gets hugged. his brain is usually moving a mile a minute, and hugs kinda reset that? Doesn't matter how he was before, The Hug sends him down to Baseline. His shoulders slowwwllllly droop, His muscle lax, <3

'got everything? Keys, wallet, phone - I could spot you a cab...' THIS IS HIS WAY OF SHOWING HE CARES <333

Even after you two pull away, you're getting some Tight Arm Rubs while he takes you in <3 He'll always tell you too Be Safe <3

[escapism-central]

THIS POST HAS A FEW MAJOR SPOILERS ABOUT THE ANIMATED SHOW “INSIDE JOB” ON NETFLIX. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Once again, we have a binge worthy adult-animation show in the form of “inside job”

I love that they put the show’s name in all lowercase letters, seeing that it’s about conspiracy theories and how obvious things are sometimes hidden in the most obvious way.

Then there’s the company’s name Cognito Inc. which is shown in the series from having been rearranged from the word Incognito, a homage to hiding things in an obvious manner.

Then there’s our protagonist Reagan Ridley, whose last name was presumably derived from “riddles” seeing that she is the leader of the main task force of a Deep State company.

As for her first name, I assume that it has something to do with its “royalty” connotation, because she’s the daughter of one of the founders of Cognito Inc., but there might be more (or less) to it. I’m guessing the show runners might at some point reveal that Reagan is some sort of royalty in the eyes of the Shadow Board? But then again, this is all speculation.

Then we have Brett Hand, whose last name is probably a pointer towards the fact that he’s Reagan’s right-hand man, and also seeks to be everyone’s right-hand man, because of his overwhelming desire to be liked. As for his first name, it could be some sort of inside joke for the creator, Shion Takeuchi. Maybe it’s along the lines of viewing the name “Brett” as generic, or symbolic of “that frat guy”? I may be reaching here, but then again, the entire show’s about reaching.

Then there’s Myc, and really, the spelling of the name makes me instantly think of mucous for some reason. He does secrete a fluid used for the company’s memory-erasers, but that’s kind of a long shot, even for this post. His name might be derivative of “mic” since he can feel what everyone is thinking, synonymous with saying what everyone is thinking; his character is obnoxiously blunt to a fault. He’s from something called the hollow earth (surprise, surprise, the earth’s hollow), and is essentially an immigrant on the earth’s surface. This might be a clever, not so veiled metaphor of how immigrants are often seen as “aliens”, even though Myc isn’t an extra-terrestrial creature. The name Magic Myc is also an obvious reference to magic mushrooms (his body/the fluid he secretes does have an effect on humans)

There might be much more to Myc’s story arc and his people, since the show is called “inside job”, and though the first season doesn’t explicitly reveal the overall plot line of the series, there are mentions throughout about how dangerous the creatures of the hollow earth are to the surface people. This again could be a metaphor of how the “Deep” State, and knowing too much in general, can be dangerous for civilians and their “ordinary” lives. Myc’s name could also be a reference to the name “Mike”, and I’m guessing this may again be an inside joke amongst the people working on the show.

Now we have Gigi Thompson, and there really isn’t much to speculate behind her name; she’s the head of PR and Media Manipulation, and her name is probably a metaphor for how things behind the surface/not on the forefront get lost in the media, and that most people don’t really pay attention to it. There’s a reference to this in the first episode itself, where there are crisis headlines running in the bottom of the news channel while one of POTUS’ speeches.

The name is also fitting, since the first name is possibly an abbreviated version of Gigi’s real name, and that the moniker Gigi is part of the identity she’s created for herself, as would befit a PR and Media Manipulation head. Another reference to the metaphor behind her name is made in a later episode, where she’s outraged that no one knows her last name, pointing towards how people don’t bother to know much beyond what is portrayed in an outlandish/unusual fashion in the forefront, which is an important part of cover-ups. Without people not bothering to cross-check their facts, and their gullibility, there would be no scope for the Deep State. This can also serve as a hit towards social media.

Then there’s Glenn Dolphman, and I’m guessing his name implies that to a certain extent, what you see really is what you get- Glenn is a human-dolphin hybrid, with predominant dolphin features, like a “blow-hole” on his head. The fact that he’s a weapon fanatic, and a staunch patriot is probably the reason why his first name is Glenn (another inside joke, or maybe it’s mainly a baby boomer name?)

Now we have Andre, and to be honest, I really have no name analysis for this one. Maybe Dr. Andre is some kind of obscure American pop culture reference that I don’t understand because, well, I’m not American. He’s a scientist (who never went to med school) and heads the (essentially) bio-terrorism department. He’s also Korean, and was raised by orthodox Christians (as far as I remember, please feel free to correct me). His character is probably a gold mine of metaphors and implications, but I’m in a reference blindspot here, so I can’t really identify them beyond the observation that he’s from an orthodox family and is a doctor, but never really went to med school, and that’s a hit on the “Asians are engineers or doctors” stereotype.

We have JR Scheimpough, and his name is possibly a variation of “scheme” because of the way it’s spelled, but the entirety of his last name tells us that he’s not actually a scheming genius, and is very silly. Maybe it’s a variation of “puff” as well? I’m running out of juice now. I don’t think his full name is ever revealed in the first season, but the initials themselves might be a reference.

Finally, we have Rand Ridley, and his first name might be a variation of “randy” (watch the show and you’ll know what I mean). Randy dandy Rand Ridley. He’s a master manipulator who had a meltdown, tried to blow up? the sun, and was fired from the company, but still holds shares in Cognito Inc. I have a theory that he orchestrated his meltdown to remove JR from the company and completely take over (spoiler), but as of now, it’s not clear whether this is in fact the case. He’s a pretty questionable character, and I started to like him but then, the season finale happened (again, spoiler).

We also have the Shadow Board, which is an ancient cabal that controls the world through the help of Cognito Inc. It’s pretty culty in how and why it makes its major decisions, there’s a lot of supernatural stuff involved in their major decisions too (hint hint, season finale).

There’s stuff that still confounds me (besides Dr Andre and Rand), like their usage of the show name within the show. In episode 2, while Reagan and Brett are going to the Clone Lab, someone is doing underground maintenance in a hallway leading up to the clone lab, and the hazard sign (yes, it’s a hazard sign) says “caution, inside job”. Beyond the metaphors that we’ve already discussed, this may be a subtle reference to the role of hollow earth in the overall plot line of the show, or maybe a secret within Cognito Inc. that has not been revealed yet. The company building has various sub-levels, so I could be grasping at straws, but animated series usually make use of the show’s name within the show’s universe itself as an Easter egg/hint of sorts. Maybe it was just a gag and I’ve become much too paranoid after watching show. I don’t have the still for this, so go watch the show.

This was just a basic overview of the show, and I might do episode by episode analyses because it’s a banger of a show.

The show also have a website called cognitocareers.com and honestly, it’s a brilliant publicity move, because besides the show’s fans, anyone who will come across the website who doesn’t know about the show will be genuinely shell-shocked (check it out to find out what I’m talking about).

I’ve been editing this post and I’ve just realised that the co-founders’ names are RR and JR. This could be some sort of reference to past American politics or American pop-culture (I’m thinking Ronald Reagan). Maybe JR indirectly stands for juniour? Feel free to help me out here.

[reaganseyebags]

Ok so!!! We’ve got how Reagan would pin after reader bc she has a crush on them but what about,,,,, robo Reagan having a crush on reader and her approach to it? 👀

YES YES YES I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE

//SFW

Sooo where do we start,,

She’s literally the opposite of real Reagan. She’s very confident but something about you makes her weak??

She didn’t understand the feeling at first. It freaked her out actually

“WHY AM I SO WEAK?? WHAT IS THIS FEELING????”

She ended up talking about it with AB and he just told her she’s in love.

She still couldn’t process it at that point. You broke her programming. She’s the most advanced being on this planet and yet she’s weak for one human!

For one human,, human that is so wonderful and amazing,, so beautiful from the outside and inside,,

Yeah,, she got why she loves you,, it took her quite some time for a machine haha

She’s so confident she would make out with you the moment she sees you but!! She studied the human psychology so she wouldn’t scare you off after the whole thing that happened with Bryan

You are always so nice to her. It makes her very soft

She also studied your body language when you were around her. She actually noticed some signals that you mind like her as well!!that made her so happy <3

It was around 11:00pm and you were working late. You finally got your work done and decided to head home. The darkness outside scared you tho.

I mean if someone attacked you could just kill them but- that’s extra paperwork,, which you were too tired to deal with

DC can be pretty dangerous at night. And you didn’t had a car yet. There weren’t much people left in the building. Expect for Reagan and robo Reagan

robo Reagan helps out real Reagan in her lab most of the time.

There was no other option so you went there to ask if Reagan doesn’t one of these flying robots.

“We don’t have any left,, Andre and Myc destroyed most them on that party,, but I can walk you home”

“Yeah she doesn’t have anything to do anyway..” said real Reagan while working on one of her projects.

“I will wait for you outside ok?”

You nodded at her and ran to get your coat and bag

When you came to the main exit, she was standing outside as expected. She looked so pretty in that lighting

You were snuggled up in your coat as she was wearing just a hoodie. Lucky robots

“Can we?” She said with a smile. You smiled back and nodded

There was this comfortable silence between you two. Only thing you could hear were your footsteps and cars driving by.

You lived close so it wasn’t a long walk. It took about 10 minutes. None of you had anything to say. I mean Robo Reagan did,, she just didn’t know how to put it into words and she was waiting for the perfect moment.

You guys walked to your apartment. You opened the door when you felt a cold hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,, I got something to tell you..”

You turned around to face her,, she had a soft smile on her face.

“This mind sound kinda weird but,, you are very important to me and I can’t really describe my feelings because I’m a fucking robot but- the point of all this is,, would you like to go out with me someday?” she said in calm voice.

You were speechless at that moment, you were hoping this moment would happen one day.

“Y-yeah I would like that,,” you responded, holding one of her hands,

She lightly squeezed your hand. Her smile was growing bigger.

“T-that’s good,, I will text you then?”

“Yeah that works for me”

She let your hand. “Well,, goodnight reader,”

“Good night Reagan”

Hope you like it sweetie!! <333

[your-mums-nuts]

13 with the group!

( I hope you don't mind but I am going to be your request generator now )

Generate away love, I love it!!

"This is stupid, and kinda fun"

"Reagan!! Gigi's right behind you!"

"I got her" Reagan called, silently thanking Brett for the heads up, aimed her (paintball) gun and fired. It hit Gigi square in the fave, god knows her makeup costs more then Reagan's groceries, she better start running.

"I'm coming for you bitch" but she wasn't, because Reagan hid in one of her special panic corners that was currently barricaded by the office chairs, supplies and just anything she found lying around. Though they couldn't see her, she could see them all.

Myc had Glenn cornered and was using a special method Reagan didn't love, it involved him consuming paint capsules and then dispensing them out of his tentacles. Glenn was terrified, and for good reason.

Gigi was still stalking the room, gun at the ready, and Reagan had to suppress the urge to throw something to the other side of the room to make her go search over there, someone would surely see her arm.

Where was her teamate??

Reagan hadn't bothered to check on Brett after escaping Gigi, but she felt she should return his favour and help him escape Andres clutches, who was incredibly competitive.

Reagan stalked out from her hiding spot, careful to avoid Gigi's rage and Glenn's suffering, she threw a quick glance at Myc, was he fucking enjoying this? She didn't stay to find out and instead slipped down the staircase leading to Andres 'secret' lab.

"Brett?" She called when she was out of hearing range from those temperamental bastards. "Brett let's go I've got the flag".

"Brett's not coming with you" it would've been ominous had Reagan not recognised the smell of weed and cheap vodka the moment Andre opened his mouth.

"alright, where are you Andre?" Reagan drawled, but her body proved to be quicker then her mind because next thing she knew she was dodging a hit from the bong-rat and ducking under a table.

"you can run but you can't hide Reagan"

"I'm not gonna do either" and with that, Reagan shot out of her hiding place and shot the shadowy figure that was slowly approaching her. She won! They'd all been shot and-

BANG!

She was shot in the lower back from behind, it stung for a hot second before reducing to a dull ache. She was more confused than in pain, really.

"what the-" Reagan started, but the lights flickered on and Andres sinister plan had been revealed. There was Brett, poor Brett, tied to a mobile vacuum cleaner and gagged with which Reagan can only hope is a dog toy. And she'd shot him. Behind her stood their successor, the great and terrible Andre.

"sucked in motherfuckers!" He grinned, hopping from the desk he'd dramatically perched himself on and removing his night-vision goggles. "We said no gadgets!" Reagan complained, moving towards Brett to untie and ungag him, "that tasted sticky" he whined once it was off and Reagan ignored the comment.

"you said no gadgets, I certainly don't remember agreeing to such a thing" Andre remarked, tossing the goggles somewhere in his mess of a lab. "If you'll excuse me I need to gloat my victory, will you be alright untying him?"

Reagan shot the man a deadpan look but nodded seeing as it was mostly untied already. "Good game Ray-dog" Brett grinned, running his hands down his clothes in a vain attempt to remove the paint stains.

"that was so dumb" Reagan groaned, and then added, to Brett's delight, "but also kind-of fun".

"wasn't it?!"

"I've never felt so cool shooting at people! And I have literally shot at people!"

[reaganingridleys]

@shylioness14

*cracks knuckles*

OKAY so the premise is still technically a WIP but for now, let's say that the only reason Earth is under control AND at peace is because all the gods are marrying each other (all pantheons exist in this btw, they're all incarnates with different names and faces though) and making agreements for this thing to happen and for that to be executed, etc., etc.,

reagan is basically in place of zagreus: she's the boss who runs around managing everything around her (which means killing off what she deems unnecessary to earth's existence in the form of a cosmic paper shredder), the genderless god of blood sworn to protect earth and the living who inhabit it. she doesn't know her title as of the story just like zagreus, so everyone's just making guesses based on what she's like especially since she doesn't really use her powers in front of people.

brett is in place of aphrodite: obviously i'm taking advantage of brett being like, canonically super hot so i just decided he'd be the god of beauty who's business partners with reagan and was randomly hired because. well. "you need a co-leader to relax, reagan!" - jr, somewhere. but also because it would be "easier" for people to capture reagan's interest if she had some eye candy on her. he's the god of beauty and luck, so whenever reagan's in a fight he's usually there to help especially with defense mechanisms

gigi is in place of oshun/apollo (just to summarize, oshun is the yoruba goddess of oshun, i checked every fucking afro-american religion only to find ZERO pantheons so i was like *cracks knuckles* back to the roots BABYYYY) anyway she's the goddess of love and sight, meaning of which she can manipulate people's feelings and also change their perception, essentially a more complicated version of what she does in the show.

andre is in place of jacheongbi: he's the god of nature, helping out tamiko who's the goddess of spring. he's on-and-off with gigi but it is what it is. in order to cope with the times he spent in tartarus, he started growing drugs from his body and continually uses it in response to stress reactions.

myc is still a mushroom. he's the god of psychedelia but the thing is, he took so much psychedelics he literally BECAME one lol

now i had to make research on possible mer-gods or gods that happened to live by thes ea, but with the way glenn is i was like "should i even give this dude a god status... lol" but anyway just in case: he replaces poseidon. ya

JR is the main god running the show. though while it used to be run by two gods (cough one of them being rand COUGH) he's the one who's handing out objectives and shit like that so he could ascend further past the realm to be a titan like the rest of the shadow ppl

for now that's pretty much it!! i'll probbaly think of some other stuff regarding this au but for now im reveling that i can mash my 2nd fav video game with my currrent fav show wkjslkjwejweaf <333 hope you enjoyyyy

[tenpixelsusie]

ok i forgot to share BUT it was an inside job type dream where it was supposed to be part 2??? but then rand pulled some shit and the sky looked weird and reagan and brett were both at reagan's house and they had to go on a quest. oh btw did i mention that rand was sending random ppl to shadow prison. susie and noelle from deltarune ended up joining reagan and brett!

they got into a predicament and suddenly there was. sweet cap'n cakes in a golf cart and they were like "hey lightners! need a ride?" ALSO NOELLE HAD ICE POWERS LIKE IN THE DARK WORLD LAWL so they were being chased by shadow prison guys and susie and noelle were on the back of the gold cart fending them off and noelle blasted them with ice!!! and susie did a thing with her axe that was like a boomerang and noelle was all heart eyes at her heehee

(also veronica and heather c (she was still a ghost) from heathers were there and apparently jd and veronica had a fight and jd was like "fine i'll join the bad guys then 🙄" so yea)

and also kris was apparenly sent to shadow prison!! so was ralsei, andre, glenn, berdly, and myc

everyone had to go to the cognito building to fight rand and everyone got sent down a thing where they had to solve a puzzle and everyone was in random pairs and had to solve it

also rand almost killed jd at one time and jd was like "you can't kill me!!! we're played by the same guy!!!!!"

sweet cap'n and k_k almost got sent to shadow prison and they fell into alpha beta's thing and they ended up giving him a mechanical mech fighting body which was cool!!!

there was a book of files of everyone in the known area, and susie's last name was messily scribbled over. reagan's file was also tampered with.

there was also another book that filed everyone in shadow prison. kris' was messy and some things were missing.

did i mention that rick from rick and morty was there for some reason lawl

it was weird as fuck!!!!!! and i loved it it was insane

ok i had the most insane dream last night about inside job and i NEED to share

[sin-sidejob]

Nostalgia Max!Brett Hand x afab/fem!reader

note: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, pet names, afab anatomy but no talk of tits in an effort to stick close to gender neutral, dominant brett hand, breeding kink, daddy kink, mommy kink, unprotected sex (wrap that rascal), slight exhibitionism, slight public sex, domestication, housewife kink, cum play, no pronouns but use of gendered pet names like mommy & others like sweet thing, baby, sweetheart, and babydoll.

You got separated from the group once Brett lost control, everything getting immersed in a hazy, green blast. Nothing worked when trying to calm him down, deescalate the situation and keep everyone safe. It blew up in y’all’s faces, literally. Waking up against rubble and debris, not seeing where you landed or where you are, you’re nervous.

There’s no modern tech on you and you’ve got no way to reach Reagan or Andre, get in touch with Gigi or Glenn or Myc. You’re absolutely alone until they find you. Or Brett finds you.

The two of you had been dating for a while, and you’re endlessly in love with him. Tirelessly and hopelessly in love with him. Brett’s a sweetheart and nothing but doting and kind to you, and he’s in therapy. How lucky are you?

Not as much now that he’s not himself and currently lethal, leveling several structures and sending you and your coworkers flying in different directions and under the influence of heavy chemtrails and 80’s nostalgia.

Your footsteps are tentative, wary of the unsteady rubble you walk upon and try to breathe through your shirt, pulled over your nose and squint through the dust in the air. There’s not much light, it’s dark out and nighttime. The cold seeps in more and that fear of being alone and vulnerable at night starts to sink in and soak your bones.

No weapons on your person, rendered useless and defenseless without any of your gear or comrades, it’s safe to say you’re terrified beyond all belief. Walking softly, slowly turning over chunks of masonry and debris to walk better and find a way out of the barely standing structure you find yourself in.

Moments pass and you try to think of other things like what you’ll do when you get home, if that show released it’s second part yet so you can stream it soon, and attempt pathetically to calm yourself. It’s not working.

You hear footsteps and you freeze, your body pressed to a wall and trying your best to hide in the looming shadows encompassing the formerly standing building. Pinpricks crawl up your neck and stand at the nape of your neck and across your arms. Your heartbeat has never seemed louder.

“Oh sweetheart, don’t you want to see me?”

it’s Brett, and you don’t see him but you hear him, can’t decipher where he is in relation to you from his voice, anywhere a possibility you don’t want to explore. Crawling up in a ball and shutting your eyes would be better, shutting the world out and forcing yourself to wake up from such a terrible dream.

But the sight of candy apple green eyes tears that hope from your lungs when you shudder, never expecting yourself to be afraid of him. The fear isn’t even about Brett, it’s about the limitless possibilities and outcomes of what could happen. He’s drenched so heavily in chemtrails it must be like standing too long near Chernobyl.

Feels so wrong.

“Why aren’t you talking to me? Did I hurt you?” He sounds like the Brett you love, and you’re worried he knows that, using that to get to you. He hasn’t spotted you yet, walking around and you press yourself into the brick behind you, wishing you could just disappear, dissolve into nothingness so it would all go away.

You don’t mean to, but your ankle nearly buckles isn’t the awkward position you are standing in. The sound is tinny in the darkness and silence of the rubble and his reaction is instant, eyes on you under a second.

“There you are!” Brett’s words would be endearing in any other circumstance, and he approaches. His hair isn’t as floaty anymore, but it still shifts unnaturally, like seaweed in an ocean current midair around his head in an unearthly halo. Eyes are bright green but less painfully neon and now more of a muted acid hue. You miss his eyes. “Was worried about you, baby, you sure you’re okay?” He dotes, nearly mirroring your brett as he cups your cheek.

When did he get closer?

“You seem fine, just shook up. Poor thing.” Brett coos, smiling down at you childishly in his usual manner but everything seems so unsettling, like his persona got dunked into a murky pool of liquid from a backalley at 3am. Unnatural and unsafe.

“Hey, c’mon sweet thing, talk to me.” He prods, raising your face up with his hand on your cheek and you oblige, looking up at him with fretful eyes that he frowns at. Your hands clench and fidget at your sides, entirely too overwhelmed but still needing to do something.

And it’s him in there. It’s still Brett. Just doused in chemtrails, no big deal.

“Hi Brett.”

He laughs, a giggling little sound that is usually very fitting but now a bit surreal in his current state. It remind you of glow sticks the way he shines out. You don’t like it.

“Hey there yourself,” he chimes, taking his hand in yours and squeezing, before he nearly lets it fall, his expression falling with it, “out with it, what’s wrong? You’re not smiling.”

“I don’t smile all the time.” Comes your immediate response and he clicks his tongue, brows furrowing and you regret not filtering your thoughts from words. “You don’t, but you smile around me. Tell me why.”

“Brett-“

He backs you up against the brick, looming a bit overhead and a part of it gets your bones staticky, indecisive in whether or not you wanted to kiss him or kick him.

“Use your words well and tell me why, or I’ll make another use for mouth.”

You gape, body choosing for you on the kiss him option and let him come closer, him murmuring between your lips as he closes in and cages you against his form and the shadowy enclave of the brick. “Good choice.”

Brett is all around you, a hand at the nape of your neck soothing and smoothing down the pinpricks while the other is at your side, kissing at you impatiently until he bites, humming in a pleased note when your mouth opens up and he ventures in, playing with your tongue as his hand ventures beneath your shirt, untucking it.

“Going to continue to be good for me?” He asks in your ear after breaking for a breath, marking up your throat and the underside of your jaw in bites as you squirm, the former unease in your belly turning fuzzy and warm, turning the danger into something attractive than daunting.

You nod and he squeezes tight at your hip, a warning and you answer aloud, “yes sir,” him rewarding you with a softer touch and undoing your pants as he takes them off. “Sir?” Brett laughs, shaking his head and his hair floats still, hovering like your waning rationale.

“You can do better than that. You know what to call me.”

Brett’s hand snakes between your legs and ghosts over your underwear, him practically beaming when he feels the pooling slick soaking through. “Yes Daddy.”

His eyelids flutter a fraction and ministrations falter, coming back and his eyes burn brighter and his grin in sardonic, a bit twisted. That reminder of don’t trust, don’t tell.

“Ohh that’s a new one, we’re keeping that, right baby?” He asks, plunging a digit into your cunt and holding a leg up around his hip, your chest covered and safe from the cold but waist and below is another story, trying to feed off the unnatural warmth he emanates now. “Mhmm.”

“There’s my sweet thing, smiling, all you needed was some lovin’ huh?” He asks, more to himself and aloud than anything as he preps you with his fingers, hearing the squelch and growing tired of having to angle his wrist a certain way. He tears the underwear apart.

“Just needed someone to play with your pussy and turn your brain off, right?” Brett prompts a moan from you as he breaches a second finger in and his thumb rolls over your clit, warmth flooding everywhere and your eyes flutter open to see him staring you down behind lidded eyes, glowing green deeper now that reminds you of that light at the end of Daisy’s dock in that Fitzgerald novel.

It kinda’ is a welcome home light. And you go to it.

Your hand threads through his hair and smashes his lips to yours as he groans darkly into your open mouth, excited and eager hands shift your legs around his then busy themselves with his belt buckle, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing which he more than notices. Whimpering as he tugs at your lip, he peers down at you while he lets his belt open.

“Easy f’me babydoll, daddy’s going to take care of you.”

It sounds so good in this voice, all gravelly this time ‘round and the difference sells the experience, and the way he’s shifted, using the weight he carries and taking up space rather than weaving his way through it.

“Need you daddy.” You whine, feeling his thumb over your clit rolling circles that get you throbbing, squirming between him and the brick wall behind you.

“Patience, baby, I’ve got you.” Brett drawls, nudging your nose with his as he frees his dick from the confines of his briefs and Levi’s, bobbing in the space between your legs and looking so damn good you could’ve eaten it.

Another time.

“This pretty cunt gonna’ take it all you think?” He muses into the column of your throat before angling his head against you so he can see between the two of you, one hand holding your thigh up and parting it wide while the other fists his already drooling dick in his palm, pearlescent droplets of precum pooling at the tip. “Gonna’ be good for me?”

You nod, smiling blearily in a dopey grin and run your hands over the back of his letterman jacket, and into his hair while the other slides down to lift underneath his shirt, wanting to feel him whenever you could.

He breaches your walls in a single movement and you whimper, head landing back against the brick and hear him grunt, deep from his chest as he bottoms out in you. Brett’s head hangs for a moment before he looks back to you, eyes staring from beneath his full lashes and still having that unnatural green.

“Just knew this little pussy would take it.” He mutters and snaps his hips back, hands moving to cup your ass and bring you closer so he can thrust back and forth in a punishing, cervix-bruising pace. God, you’d feel him for days.

You didn’t mean to say it out loud but he hears it nonetheless, grinning against your temple while he fucks you like a ragdoll, “that’s right, gonna shape this cute little cunt until it’s molded around my cock, gonna’ be my little toy, right? Let me play with you?”

Moaning behind kiss swollen and puffy lips, you affirm his statement and thrust your hips back into his, sending a reverberating groan through his throat out that turns into a dark chuckle, his pace slowing a fraction only to move forth harsher, the sound of skin and your debauched moans painfully loud within the silence of the destroyed structure.

“Gonna’ keep us here, you and I,” Brett begins to ramble, punctuating his words with snaps of his hips that get you seeing stars, “gonna’ breed this little cunt and get a family from you, stay here happy for the rest of our lives.”

“You going to let me give you a child, sweet thing?”

“Mhmm.” You whine, clutching at him and grinding down on his dick, a pathetic mess of yourself with slick smeared between your thighs, “Gonna’ make you a daddy.” Brett groans aloud and rewards you with a hand moving from under your thigh to your clit once more, pressing in those rolling ministrations that get you clenching awfully hard.

“Wanna’ cum Brett — I need it.” You’re rambling at this point, incoherent and cockdrunk as he plunges in and out of you, nothing but sex on the brain and none of the ramifications. It would be your problem another day, another moment, but for right now it was everything.

“Need what baby? Gotta’ speak, got that pretty voice of yours — make it useful.”

“Want your cum, wanna’ stay here with you and let you knock me up over ‘n over,” you’re spitting out words as fast as they form because you’ve barely got the headspace for anything else but cumming on his dick, “get pregnant and have your baby, make you a daddy — please lemme’ make you a family.”

He whines in the back of his throat as he bites at your neck, your words hitting deep somewhere in him and loses his even pace in lieu of fucking you frantically, practically jumping your form with how desperate he is to flood your cunt. Brett’s hand still rolls it’s thumb over your pulsing, sensitive clit.

“God yes, make a little mommy out of you, see you get all swollen and round with leaking tits to feed our kids — fuck,” he’s speaking to you in equal to the wind, voicing aloud not just his plans but his dreams, wishes to have a life with you, “cum f’me baby, gush around this cock then I’ll give you what you want.”

you mewl, squirming and bucking while chasing that high that already has begun to sprawl like white-hot lightning in your bones, curling and pooling within your belly, feeling Brett slide in and out while he punches the breath from you while prodding at your cervix.

“Gonna’- I’m going to, fuck fuckk.” Brett snaps his hips in whip-fast motions once, twice, and you’re gone. Everything whites over and fades into blank noise, like getting submerged in bath water as you shake and shudder, taking him in as he fucks you through it, suspended only by his hold.

“Fuck, you look so p-pretty,” he stutters just like his pace, falling frantic in how he chases his orgasm after yours, Brett crumbling as he finally cums and floods your cunt, slick smeared between the both of you all over your thighs and lower abdomens, white ropes and rivulets accompanying your arousal. Brett snarls out your name in a broken groan against your collar, voice deep.

He bucks his hips and mutters nonsense into your ear, milking every last drop into your silken cunt and more, “cant wait to see you all knocked up, gonna’ make you a mommy. Swear.” You’re barely conscious enough to process his words, but you do, whimpering and squirming against him in pleased, soft tones as you still have your eyes shut tight, toes curled and feeling absolutely cloudy and airy — breathless.

Brett eventually finishes emptying himself inside of you, sticking close and keeping you on his cock as you come down from your highs and blink blearily back into reality. Shifting, causing you both to groan, you reach out and smooth his hair back and get him to look at you, green glow now gone and fucked out of him as he stares up at you back to himself.

“Hi Brett.” You murmur once again, this time feeling much better about him and his safety. His arms coil around your waist as he burrows into your neck, doting kisses across your skin and soothing the burn and bite of his marks.

“Hey honey.” Brett murmurs, sleepy and lethargic now and you smooth a hand through his hair, scratching idly and getting him groaning happily against you as your other hand rubs across his back and the rough fabric of his jacket he still had on.

“Ready to get out of here?” He nods against you in response and helps you stand, soft moans and sighs passing as he slips out and you feel cum slip forth from your overfilled cunt onto your thighs. Hurriedly getting redressed, sans your tattered panties, you stand before one another and he tries to apologize but you shake your head, cupping his cheek and saying you enjoyed it.

“Hey Brett?” You ask later on, walking hand in hand back with the group on the way to Cognito Inc after regrouping. “Yeah?”

You grin, beaming at him, squeezing his hand.

“Wanna’ do that again sometime?”

He opens and closes his mouth, giggling for a second before turning back to looking at you, squeezing your hand back while his other thumbs the velvet box in his jacket pocket.

“Absolutely.”

[cognitosclowns]

AYOOOOO HI THERE LOVELY!!! A GIRL IS STARVED FOR SOME INSIDE JOB CONTENT AND WAS WONDERING IF YOU HAD ANY LIKE FLUFF HCS 🥳 SPECIFICALLY TICKLING BC *sobs loudly*/pos LITERALLY SO CUTE AND SO SWEET!!! EITHER WAY GENUINELY ADORE UR ACCOUNT SND WISH YOU THE BEST UR SO COOL!! OKOKOK LIKE JUST THE MAIN GANG OR LIKE BRETT. BRETT <3 BUT THE WHOLE MAIN GANG IF U CAN AYAYAY ALRIGHT SORRY FOR SCREAMING BUT THANK YOU AND HAVE A GOOD DAY - 🥝

GOD THIS IS,,,,,, SO INDESCRIBABLY FUCKING CUTE YOU'RE GETTING HC'S FOR THE ENTIRE CREW <3333

ALL SFW JUST SOME,, CUTE SHIT

INCLUDING PLENTY OF X READER TOO,, JUST BECAUSE,,, ITS CUTE <3333 I WANNA TICKLE THESE CUTIES AND SEE THEM ALL GIGGLY. THEY DESERVE EVERY JOY <333

Reagan

UNDER THE ARMS <3333

HONKING. SHE HONKS. this honking snort while she curls up, vaguely slapping at you. 

SHE HATES BEIN TICKLED... for a bit, and then she’s a giggling mess of smiles.

SHES GONNA MANAGE TO RESTRAIN,, ON OF YOUR ARMS. NEVER BOTH SMDNSD. The War Has Been Waged <3

SHE MIGHT BOLT TO GRA THE PRODUCTIVITRON TO GET A LEG UP. Wrap your arms around her torso tho and she’s going nowhere <3 she has zero muscle.

she looks,, so much lighter after, even if she’s gonna call you a dick <33 sometimes it’s nice to have a good laugh <3

Brett

QUITE LITERALLY EVERYWHERE. The most ticklish man alive. Feet and underarms get him worst.

He LOVES TICKLE FIGHTS. ITS SO LIGHT AND HAPPY SMNDS.

JUST,, TRYNA LAZILY PUSH YOUR HANDS AWAY WHILE HE LOSES OXYGEN <33 he loves it so much. It’s such a blast.

HE GETS THIS COMPETITIVE, HAPPY GLINT IN HIS EYESSS <3333 he wiggles his fingers a bunch as a ‘threat’ before diving for you. A very cute affair.

he does this thing where he Scrunches his hands a bunch on wherever you’re ticklish. YOURE DONE. YOURE DONE.

This big, satisfied sigh when its all over. His cheeks are,, so rosy and sweet. Happiest fella in the world rn <3

Glenn

ASK HIM IF HE'S TICKLISH HIS EYE IS GONNA TWITCH

he siblings used to tickle him. his fellow soldiers would mess with him too. HE CANNOT ESCAPE.

He might actually be worse than Brett smndsm. Try hard enough you can tickle any part of him - wiggly fingers just,, get him smdnsdm.

HIS LAUGH HIS HALFWAY BETWEEN WHEEZING AND,, TRILLING. he's 100% gonna cover his face bc he's Embarrassed by it. 

IF YOU’RE LUCKY YOU’LL GET HIS REALLY,, HAPPY STOMACH LAUGH <33 ITS VV LOUD AND HAPPY. PURE JOY. (I’m picturing the Justin McElroy laugh where it sounds like he’s Actually Dying mznxmcnxzc)

HIS ACCENT GETS SO THICK <333 ITS <33333 YEEHAW MODE ACTIVATED.

'I yield dammit!' lots of,, army swearing too.

Eventually he’s just gonna wrap you up in his arms tbh <3 bear hug, no escape, possibly ticking you back along your sides <3

Andre

FOOTSIES.

HIS FEET ARE SO TICKLISH. Ticklish that if his socks are too textured he cant wear them bc he's get all giggly and squirmy smdnsd.

'this is not a battle you want to- NONONONO' before bursting into laughter. 

His laugh gets SUPER GOOFY <3 like when you laugh so hard that your inhales make a ‘slll’ noise??? IDK NOW TO DESCRIBE IT BUT HE DOES THAT. WHERE ITS ALL SNIFFLY.

HE WILL KICK U (gently <3) MSNDMSD HE'S FLAILING HES SQUIRMING. fighting for his life.

HE’S ALSO CALLING FOR HELP. If y’all are at Cognito he’s gonna call out for Myc.

Myc will not help. Myc will in fact point out spots where hes more ticklish, and laugh his ass off in the corner <3

‘TRAITOR.’

‘mhm - oh, don’t forget his achilles.’

‘AAAAAA- HA - HA MYC (derogatory)’

DEFINITELY GONNA MAKE SOME STUPID JOKES TO KNOCK YOU OFF YOUR RHYTHM.

‘ooh Kinky- AH, AH NONO IM SORRY-’ 

Gigi

SHOULDERS, UNDER ARMS AND RIBS. upper body in general, you can't get her w/ the feet.

SHE MAKES THIS,, AMAZING SQUEALING GIGGLE <33 'pouting' while giggling and trying to grab your wrists <3

SHE WILL ABSOLUTELY FLOP ON YOU. FULLY LIMP FLOP ON YOU. This till not hinder you but it does mean her face is gonna be smooshes into yours. 

Not above licking your face to catch you off guard and then Presto Reverso now YOURE GETTING TICKLED <3

She always has super long nails so,, she doesn’t even need to lift your shirt or anything smnds YOU’RE DONE FOR.

Eventually both of you will,, completely collapse into a giggling cuddle pile <3

Myc

THE ROOTS OF HIS TENTACLES. His laugh starts out as a little giggle until it’s a complete CRESCENDO.

HE SNAPS OUTTA IT PRETTY QUICK THO BC,, CLEARLY SMB NEEDS THEIR ASS WHOOPED.

‘OHO you little shit, C’MERE-’ WHAT’D YOU EXPECT, TRYING TO TICKLE A MAN WITH 6 ARMS?

You’re positively fucked buddy smdns you’re gettin tickled within and inch of your life and he’s gonna be laughin his ass off the whole time

‘aww lookit that, isn’t that sad- should’ve thought of that before, HUH?’

<333 eventually he’ll just flop u on the couch and tease you <3 talk about how stupid you look (affectionate)

might poke your cheeks while you catch your breath after. he thinks you’re cute when you’re all tired n happy. shh.

Jr

HIS STOMACHHHH. Sides, under his navel, that whole area.

The moment he sees those Fingers Poised To Attack he raises two hands like,, smsnd he's trying to calm a wild animal.

He Is not Fast Enough To Escape But He Sure Does Try To Bolt

FISTS BATTING AT YOUR SHOULDERS, OR CLUTCHING HIS CHEST TRYNA BREATHE.

His legs kick like he's being suffocated and LORD DOES HE BLUSH. BRIGHT RED AROUND THE EARS, hes a completely mess.

LOTS OF,, HOSTAGE JOKES. ‘No, no! I have money, I can pay you-hoo-hoo :(’ AND THE LIKE,, he cracks himself up sdmnsd

the moment you stop you’re Positively Fucked

'oooh no you don't' HES GONNA GETCHA HES GONNA GETCHA HE MIGHT BE OLD BUT HES GONNA LEAP OVER FURNITURE TO CATCH YOU SMDNSD.

Eventually he’s just gonna,, scoop you up in his arms and carry you upstairs to lay down <33 after so much goofing around,,, you two need a nice nap.

Alpha-Beta

He very quickly learns that no matter what his answer is to the question Are You Ticklish is, he's gonna get tickled. The folly of man.

THANKFULLY HE'S PROTECTED BC,,, his sides n underarms aren't ticklish?? He'll just give you a very unimpressed smirk. He insists above everything he isn't ticklish. He's a flawless being, of course, why would you think he'd be ticklish?

.... it's his neck. Back of his neck + between his shoulder blades. His shoulders + hands jump up like he's been shocked + this massive panicked GASP

HES GONNA SPIN AROUND N GLARE AT YOU + ,,,, GET REALLY HUFFY AND FLUSTERED. WEAKNESS DISCOVERED HE IS >:((

if you get him between the shoulderblades HE CAN'T EVEN REACH BACK TO GRAB YOUR HAND,, HE JUST HAS TO TWIST AROUND AND FLAIL. This is the most uncomposed you will ever catch him.

His voice box goes Fucking Nuts with glitches + clipping.

'you filthy cheat' and 'horrible, traitorous bastard' are wheezed out in between him trying to Escape Your Clutches. Biting his lip to try not to smile, failing miserably

ALL OF THIS WAS SO POSITIVELY GOOFY <333 IM SORRY. EEE THIS WAS CUTE TYSM FOR THE LOVELY ASK ANON

[cognitosclowns]

how do u think these characters smell (i think u mentioned andres once but i may be wrong but we all know he would reek u-u) i think the only people who you'd want to be in sniffing distance of is like brett n gigi. MAYBE myc but idk. (sry if this is???? too weird??)

EEE YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE SUPER SPECIFIC HC'S <333

ALL SFW BELOW!! Tw for drugs, smoking.

REAGAN

she. does not shower as often as she’d like to. In the grand scheme of things she’d rather skip a shower than lose her groove with whatever she’s working on

she also HATES perfume and cologne and just. strong smells in general. that artificial smell makes her stomach turn.

the only exception to that is her hand lotion - her hands get dry and crack a bunch during the winter, so she keeps it on her desk. It’s this super mild charcoal smell!!

if you,, happened to,,,,,, hold her hand,,, or use her pen,,, maybe the smell would rub of on your hands..... aaaaa <3333

Mostly I imagine her smelling like sweat, plastic and gasoline? Like a super faint smell of oil from all the hands-on machinery work she does!!

ANDRE

He coats himself in perfume (from Gigi’s office, ofc, because he doesn’t actually have any perfume) to try and disguise the smell of Weed and other assorted Substances. It doesn't work msndmsn

like sure everyone KNOWS he’s high all the time but. he still feels kinda iffy about it. He hates the idea of them thinking he’s incompetent bc he’s high.

THIS. IS A DOUBLE EDGED SWORD THOUGH. because even though the perfume masks the smell, it just means that everyone knows that the Stronger The Perfume Smell, The More High He is.

oh well, he tried.

BRETT

HIS SUITS SMELL SO STRONGLY OF AXE. He canonically soaks himself with axe so like. Dear God I hope you like the smell bc it may sear your nostrils off.

This also means that even when he ISNT wearing AXE he. smells like AXE. you’re pretty sure the first three layers of his skin is AXE. is you squeezed him hard enough he’d start leaking AXE Body Spray.

That actually goes for,, everything. Most of his products have that Nondescript Masculine Sport Scent (tm) so he kinda smells like a highschool locker room?? Haircare, lipbalm, etc.

Like definitely not,, unpleasent,, but overpowering.

GIGI

AAA <333 she has so many pretty perfumes and lotions and just. God she always smell so nice. 

SHE ESPECIALLY LIKES SMELLING SWEET. Not only bc it’s always nice to be around smb who smells like Red-velvet Cake, and she knows the value of Charisma in a job like hers,,, but,,, 

the smell of baked goods reminds her so much of her mum and sometimes she just needs that extra push to feel confidence enough to face the day.

alternatively super flowery scents?? Idk why Rosewater was the first thing that came to mind but,, <333 yeah 

AA I CAN ALSO SEE HER BEING INTO DUSTING POWDERS?? like those lovely lavender powders?

MYC

OH like if you dug a heavy smoker out of a terrarium

like that super dense cigarette smell that clings to him (we see him smoke and I feel like it’s a pretty consistent habit for him?)

PLUS the earthy smell of Shroom. He may be a Special Kind of Shroom but he is Shroom nonetheless.

There’s,,,, also smth else there that can’t actually be picked up by human nostrils.

You can’t smell it, but you can definitely taste it?? there’s like this faint sour taste on the tip of your tongue whenever you get close to him?? Kinda like if you eat smth and wait a little while and. your tongue still has that tingly sour aftertaste?

Like it isn’t strictly unpleasant, you usually don’t notice it’s there, but it’s still odd??

JR

he has a bottle of Super Expensive Cologne on his dresser at home, but he rarely ever uses it - bad sinuses, he’ll be sneezing all week. It’s mostly just a showpiece

HE USES SO MUCH LOTION <33 he likes keeping his skin soft - he has this specific Peppermint Lotion?? 

OVERALL?? this vv minty, fresh smell w/ a bit of Smoke!! He tries not to smoke too much bc he already has enough problems to deal with but. Also Cigars help calm him down, sue him.

GLENN

THIS SLIGHTLY SALTY-FISHY SMELL BUT NOT UNPLEASENT?? Like when you sit on the beach and smell the breeze. He seems to be a super self-conscious person so I can definitely see him going out of the way to smell fine?

I don’t feel like he’s the type for cologne? He probably sees it as too,, Fancy for his liking. he might have something for special occasions but overall??? nah

ALPHA-BETA

OH this is absolutely courtesy of @mrsbretthand​ but PENNIES.

JUST STRAIGHT UP PENNIES <333 that fantastic coppery smell. Especially since,, he’s gotten pretty roughed up so most of his machinery is exposed?? <333

also idk if this is gonna make sense but. If you’ve ever stuck your head in a computer? Where it’s that super dusty smell but also kinda nice? YEA HINTS OF THAT.

TYSM FOR THE ASK!!! this was just a little ditty, lmk if you wanted smth more precise!!