#reader x reagan

[amphibiahawks321]

[Reagan and Myc verbally arguing]

Reagan : Hold that fucking thought!

[Reagan walks away from myc and walks towards Y/N, Reagan plops her head onto his chest making Y/N happily hugs her]

Reagan : ......

Reagan : ......Okay that's enough thanks–

[Reagan immediately walks back towards myc and both starts arguing again]

Glenn : .....Why did she do that?

M!Reader : Recharging

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sit Next To Me

Chapter 2: Wanna See a Magic Trick?

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

...Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Chapters 1 &2 were supposed to be 1 chapter and then it got wayy too long. So the first 2 chapters of this fic are done, and the rest is being written. If you like it, let me know! It helps the process for sure. If you don't like it, eh, that's fine but keep it to yourself.

Read on AO3

“Do you want to make out?” You tipped your head to the side innocently, but were unable to hide your amused smile, encouraged by the second of shock on his face.

“You are very abrasive,” He frowned, but looked more conflicted than angry.

“So is that a no or…” You snarked, rolling your eyes.

He looked down at you next to him, amber eyes watching yours, searching for something. Slowly he ducked his head, face inches from yours as he looked down to your lips. 

“Tell me when to stop,” He breathed, his words sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. 

When you didn’t reply, his eyes moved back up to yours, expectant, waiting. You gasped for breath, the skill of breathing escaping you as you nodded too quickly. He snorted a laugh at your eagerness, the corner of his lip pulling up just slightly. He moved closer again, open mouth ghosting against yours, like he was giving you one last chance to back out. Normally you’d become irritated when a man decided for once in his life to take it slow when all you wanted to do was go fast. This was different, he was different. You felt like you were drowning in everything about him and he hadn’t even kissed you yet. 

And when he did, you decided you could drown in him forever.

Slowly he pressed his lips to yours, soft and warm, eyes falling closed as he tasted you. You tilted your chin up, wanting more of him. His tongue pushed against yours, the taste of mint and gin mixing with the weed you two had been smoking. He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard enough to elicit a whine from your throat. 

Without breaking the kiss he twisted his back and scooped an arm under your shoulders. He cradled you halfway under him, the other hand gripping your waist. You forced the pace to quicken, moving your mouth against his with almost bruising force. He fought back, the hand on your waist moving to your jaw, his fingers moving tenderly against your cheek, forcing you to slow down. When you relaxed, he moved his hand back to your waist, fingers brushing against the hem of the borrowed t-shirt. 

He pulled back, trying to hide how hard he was breathing. He fluttered his fingers against the hem of the shirt, “Is this okay?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “Did I ask you to stop?”

He swallowed hard, eyes fluttering shut at your tone. His mouth found yours again, settling on a pace somewhere between what you and him wanted. It worked. It was perfect. His hands were slow, cold against your burning skin. He splayed his hand flat against your ribs, trying to hold as much of you as he could in his palm. You sucked his top lip into your mouth, biting gently and wishing you could leave marks on him. He cupped your breast in his hand, kneading gently and flicking his thumb across your nipple. 

“Fuck,” You panted, unable to help the way your head tilted back, your back arching up into his touch. You would’ve been embarrassed by the reaction to such a small thing, but in the moment you really couldn't be bothered to care.

He took the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, messily kissing your skin. Your hand tangled into his hair, pulling gently at the soft chestnut strands. The whimper he let out made your thighs snap together, and you pulled on him harder, dying to hear it again. He gave you exactly what you wanted, the sound tumbling from his lips like a hymn. He let you pull his neck back, panting with half lidded eyes and a blush that would rival a peach, the beauty marks on his face standing out against the color.

His lips pulled back over his teeth in a dazed smile as he looked down on you, your hand still tangled tightly in his hair. He tried to move towards your lips again, but you pulled him away by the hair, forcing his head sideways so you could bite down on the pale column of his neck. You could feel the shift of the couch as his hips gave a microscopic and involuntary buck. You wanted to fuck him. You needed to fuck him.

You dragged your knee up, slightly unsure of where to actually go in the position you were in but he got the hint. His hand left your chest, moving up to grab your jaw. He held your face as he licked into your mouth, kissing you like you were the last thing he’d ever taste. When he was sure you weren’t going to pull away again to attack his neck he dragged his hand down your side, at just the right speed and pressure to make you burn for more. He grabbed the back of your knee, pulling your leg up to drape across his waist. He squeezed the back of your thigh with a content sigh, moving his fingers over your skin like he wanted to map every pore, every freckle, and scar. His fingers wandered higher, cupping the curve of your ass and pulling you closer. You clung to the front of his shirt with one hand, the other on the side of his neck. Fingertips brushing against his hairline. 

He pulled away, more like forced himself away, panting above you with his eyes screwed shut, a hard line between his eyebrows.

You kissed his jaw gently, reaching up to smooth the lines of his face, “Relax, Pretty Boy,” You practically cooed, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes searching yours again. You weren’t sure what for. Regret? Hesitation? Fear? When he didn’t find anything telling him no, he grabbed your waist, pulling you upright.

“C’mere,” His voice was shaky, holding back, “Please.”

You giggled and pecked his lips, “So polite,”

“Just, uh, carefully,” He told you, keeping a grip on your leg to guide it. When you quirked your head he gestured to his own leg.

He wore a brace, extending from his mid thigh to mid calf. You hadn’t noticed it, the black material almost faded completely against the dark denim of his jeans, not to mention the high and your distraction with other parts of his body.

“Oh, sorry,” You said without thinking, trying to shift away.

“For what?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, grip on your leg keeping you in place.

“I…I don’t know,” You chewed on your lower lip, wishing you hadn’t said it, “I just, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m not gonna break, darling,” He assured you, gently forcing you to straddle his lap, “Just don’t put all of your weight on that one leg, and we’re all good.”

You hesitated, suddenly aware of your every movement. He didn’t seem irritated with your concern, luckily, but he definitely wanted to dispel any worry. He grabbed your face with both hands and pulled you into a rough kiss.

“I mean, if you really need to put all your weight on my thigh,” He panted into your mouth, “You are more than welcome to ride the other one.”

You couldn’t help but whine into his mouth. His hands moved from your face, he grabbed the back of your knees and yanked you closer to him, forcing you to stop your hovering and press down flush against him. He was so hard, the feeling of his cock beneath his jeans releasing all the nervous tension in your body. You let yourself settle against him, creating even more contact. 

“Good girl,” He muttered, doing his best to keep from rutting up against you. Trying to have some self control.

Heat pooled between your legs as you kissed him, tongue invading his mouth as you gave one hard roll of your hips, practically begging for more friction. 

“God, don’t hold back now,” You teased, licking along his jaw as you ground down against him now. You wished you had worn the skirt, “I’m not gonna break, darling.”

He scoffed as you quoted him, the sound caught off by a groan as you pushed down again, biting on his neck at the same time. He gave in, rolling his hips against yours, finding a steady rhythm that was satisfying without being too obscene. 

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt, you easily opened them until his chest and stomach was fully exposed. When you pulled away, you could practically drooled over him. The beauty marks from his face were scattered across his torso. Dark constellations against a pale sky. Like his hands, his body was slender but not delicate. You ran your nails down his chest, tracing from one beautiful mark to the next. He watched your face as you chewed on your lower lip, fingers tracing the delicate trail of hair from his navel to the waist of his jeans.

“You’re gorgeous,” You couldn't help but to admit, he blushed under your scrutiny, eyes falling shut as you dragged your hand back up his chest. You gently wrapped your fingers around the base of his neck, not squeezing just holding. You felt his Adam's apple bob against your palm, “Such a pretty boy.”

“Not fair that I’m showing more skin than you,” He tried to joke, opening his eyes halfway, fingers moving under the hem of your shirt again. 

“You can just ask me to take my shirt off, ya know.” You teased, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his sternum, looking up at him through your lashes, “I mean, I kinda like being told what to do sometimes…only if you want to.”

He took a slow breath, you could practically see the gears turning as he thought of his next move. You rest your chin against his chest, still looking up at him expectantly. 

Finally he grabbed a fistfull of your hair, right at the base of your skull. You could feel both his desire and concern. You gave a small encouraging smile, urging him on. When he yanked, you let him pull you back with a gasp, the feeling making our head go fuzzy.

“That’s more like it,” You panted, head still tilted back, you looked down your nose at him, “Now, tell me what you want Pretty Boy.”

“Take your shirt off,” He nodded his chin at you, voice hesitantly firm,“Now. Please.”

“Still so polite,” You smiled, gripping the bottom of your shirt, “I appreciate it.”

When you pulled your shirt off, you made sure to give him a show. A reward for doing what you asked. You pushed your chest out, arching your back in a way that made your hips press down into his cock. When you were free of your shirt, you froze under his eyes. His jaw hung open slightly as he drank you in. His eyes traced every line and curve of your body. He was looking at you like you were a specimen, like he could learn so much just by studying your figure and form. You were happy to let him.

He reached out, fixing a rogue strand of hair on your head. The gesture was softer than you expected, making you pull in a shaky breath. He grabbed your hands, taking the shirt away and tossing it to the side. Gently he pulled your arms past his neck, encouraging you to lean into him. He kissed you, deep but soft. His cold hands moved up your back, fingers moving against your spine so delicately goosebumps rose across your skin. The sudden change in pace almost making you forget you were in a dingy garage and that he was a stranger. 

You realized you had completely abandoned your movements, hips still in his lap. The short seconds of tenderness made you panic. This was not the place and he was not the person.

You bit his lip again, hands tangling in his hair as you rocked your hips against him again. The layers between you dulling the feeling. He caught up to your pace, one hand moving around your side to grab at your chest, and the other wrapping around your waist, holding you close as you bucked up into you. You felt like you were gonna soak through your shorts. You dragged a hand down his front, letting your nails leave faint red lines on their way down. At the waist of his jeans, you tugged at the button undoing it easily.

“Is this okay?” You asked against his lips, wanting to be sure.

“Fuck yes, please.” He panted, hands moving up your back to hold onto your shoulder blades, practically bracing himself as you undid the zipper on his jeans, tugging them down enough to palm him through his boxers. 

He hissed at the contact, head falling onto your shoulder as you teased him. He bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to make you wince. You hoped it would bruise.

You grabbed his hair, pulling him off you and placing a kiss to his lips before shoving home back against the couch. 

“Tell me what to do.” You told him, sitting back a little, careful not to put too much weight on his bad leg. 

“Touch me.” It was more of a beg than a demand, but you appreciated the effort. 

You pulled him out of his boxers, sucking in a breath at the sight of him. Even his dick was pretty, the trail of hair you had touched earlier ended tidily at his base, a slight delicate curve up, perfect pink tip already leaking, precum dripping down his length. He was big too, certainly over average, almost to an intimidating degree. You could suppress a soft laugh at the thought that crossed your mind.

His face dropped in horror, “Absolutely not cool to laugh in this situation,” He choked out.

“I’m sorry!” You said, waving a hand at him, “It’s just…it’s always the skinny guys that are so big.” 

His face flamed red, he swallowed hard and looked to the side, “Shut up.”

“Well, I could,” You told him, tilting your head and taking the base of him in your hand. Your fingertips didn’t meet. He gasped, hands clinging to your thighs and eyes fluttering shut as you stroked him slowly, spreading precum over him. You rubbed your thumb over the slit at the tip, enamored with how he felt in your hand, “But then, I couldn’t tell you how perfect you are. Which I really want to do, ya know. I want to tell you that you have the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen.” He gasped, stomach muscles flexing as he twitched in your grasp, “I bet you taste amazing. So pretty and big, god, I love how you feel in my hand. I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

“Ah, fuck.” He gasped, without hesitation he hands flew to the button of your shorts, yanking them open with desperation. 

You yelped, fingers brushing over your tummy in just a way to tickle you, “Hey, careful,” You joked, “I like these shorts.”

“I wish you were wearing a skirt,” He muttered, doing his best to focus on the button and zipper of your shorts with his dick still in your hand. 

“Tell me about it,” You rolled your eyes, cursing Lest. 

With your free hand, you helped him out, popping open the tight button. He didn’t waste a second in shoving his hand between your legs, feeling you through your underwear. You gasped at the simple contact, his hands cold against you. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” He growled, your hand gripping into his wrist, definitely leave crescent shaped nail marks on his skin, “This all for me, baby?”

You looked at him through hooded eyes, pleased with his sudden confidence boost. You nodded, jaw falling open as he pressed the tips of his fingers against your clit. 

“Fuck, yes, please,” You muttered, unable to form a proper sentence, “Need you so bad.”

You ground down against his fingers, not able to help yourself. You took him in your hand again, pumping your first and leaning forward to kiss him. Suddenly he froze, it only took half a second for you to follow suit.

“What?” You asked, fully present and incredibly worried you had done something wrong or hurt him.

“I… I don’t have a condom, fuck.” His jaw hung open, he looked like he had seen war.

“Oh, hm,” You sat back as his finger retreated from your shorts, “Wanna see a magic trick?”

“What?” His face contorted in confusion, your question throwing him completely for a loop.

“It’s a good one, I promise,” You giggled, letting go of him and sitting up on your knees, shorts sliding down your hips a little. 

You reached behind the couch, tits practically in Pretty Boy's face, despite the situation he took the opportunity to pull one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around the hard peak. You gasped, blinking through the feeling to resume your mission. You reached farther behind the couch, praying to any god that was spying in on you. You grinned when your fingertips found exactly what you wanted. You tried to sit back, but he held you where you were, not finished with you just yet. His hands squeezed your ass as his mouth traveled to the other breast, giving it the same attention. 

“Ah, fuck,” You grabbed his hair when you couldn't take anymore, pulling his mouth off you with a soft pop. 

You sat back on his lap, holding the condom up in front of you with a proud smile.

He tilted his head to the side, “Was that…behind the couch?”

“Yeah,” You laughed, mentally thanking Mel and her need to be fucked whenever she smoked, “Uh, this couch is…well worn in. It’s best not to think about it too much.”

He glanced at the fabric beneath him, nose scrunching. You held the condom out to him dramatically, “A gift for you, sir.”

“Thank you very very much, miss,” He replied, taking it from your hand, “now take those god forsaken shorts off.”

You scrambled off his lap, watching him intently as you wiggled your shorts off. The cuff was wide enough for you to step out of them without taking your shoes off. You stood between his spread knees in nothing but your underwear and high top sneakers. He looked like a deity, or maybe an angel, lazily leaning back against the couch. He opened the condom wrapper with his teeth, watching you as he rolled it down his length. You couldn’t help but stare, shirt split open, his cock laying pink and heavy against his pale stomach, you watched as he lifted his hips, pushing his boxers and jeans just a few more inches down his legs and then grabbed himself, giving a few slow strokes as he stared right back up at you.

“You’re-”

“You’re-”

You both started at the same time, making a laugh bubble out of your chest. 

“No, I get to say it this time,” He pouted, sitting up. His hands slid up the side of your thighs, all the way up to your waist before settling against your ass, the cheeky cut of your underwear giving him full access to your skin. He pressed his nose to your stomach, breathing in deeply before resting his chin against you, looking up at you, Pupils completely blown out, his irises the smallest amber rings, “You are so beautiful.”

 His teeth dug into the soft flesh, tongue smoothing over the redness when he let go, he continued this along your hips and down to the waist of your underwear, pulling back slightly to look at them. He traced a finger along the lacy edge.

“I love pretty things meant to be taken off,” He told you, looking up through his lashes.

When you didn’t say anything, he brought a hand down on your ass. Not hard enough to really hurt, but enough for you to gasp and straighten up. 

“What was that for?” You asked, blinking down at him with wide eyes. 

A grin split his face as he looked up at you, then he shrugged, “I don’t know, I just wanted to do it.”

“Okay, brat,” You rolled your eyes, and scoffed jokingly.

“Come here,” He laughed, grabbing your knees and pulling you down to straddle his lap again.

You braced your arms against the couch, caging his head in. You watched him lick his lips before sliding his hand between your things again, this time he pushed your underwear to the side. His fingers ran smoothly against you, traveling up and down your slit, stopping to rub slow circles around your clit. You couldn’t help the moans that slipped past your lips, eyes falling shut.

“No, look at me,” He told you, voice filled more with want than demand.

You blinked your eyes open, blushing as he watched your every move. You felt his fingers tease at your entrance, a question in his eyes. You gave a small nod and easily slipped two fingers into you. You cried out softly, forehead falling against his as you panted, curses falling from your mouth. He tilted his chin, kissing you as he curled his fingers against your walls, thumb pressing to your clit. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck.” Your voice shook against his mouth, he smirked.

“Quite the vocabulary,” He teased you, fingers moving slowly in and out.

“Yeah, top of- ah!” You gasped when he separated his finger in you, stretching you wider, “Top of my english classes.”

“Oh I’m sure,” He snorted, and then kissed you as he pulled his fingers out and away from you, swallowing the whimpers you let out, “You said you wanted to feel me inside you right? Can’t keep my fingers in there at the same time.”

“You could certainly try,” You joked, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“Hm, maybe try taking just my cock first, yeah?” He asked, laughing softly.

“Will do,” You said seriously, watching as you studied your wetness on his fingers. Before you could protest, he put his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours as he tasted you. Your face burned as his eyes fell shut, tongue swirling between the digits, groan coming from deep in his throat. 

He pulled you down, sighing as you ground down against him, finally free of the layers of fabric. His length slid smoothly between your folds, making both of you go dumb for a moment. Unable to wait any more he grabbed your hips, getting you to sit up a little higher on your knees. 

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” He told you firmly, looking up at you for confirmation.

“Yeah, yes I will,” You promised, eagerness ripping at your insides. 

He lined himself up, tip teasing at your entrance. He watched your face as you sank down onto him, your lips parted and eyebrows furrowed.. He gasped as you took him in, unable to keep his jaw from hanging open, all his energy being used to keep his hips still until you were ready. He filled you in the most amazing way, stretching you more than probably anyone else. You wanted more of him, you needed all of him.

“Hey, I usually have stuff to help,” He told you, “You don’t have to go all-”

His own strangled cry cut him off as he bottomed out, your pelvis flush against his. You dropped your head to his shoulder panting heavily.

“Fuck, are you okay?” He asked, concern filling his voice, “You didn’t need to do that.”

You tilted your head back to look at him. His breath hitched at the sight of your face, pupils huge, cheeks red, lips swollen, looking completely fucked out all ready, “I wanted to, need all of you in me.”

“Ah, fuck.” He groaned, dropping his forehead against yours, his voice strained, “Fuck, let me know when I can move.”

You kissed him, letting yourself adjust for a few more seconds before rocking against him. You lifted yourself into your knees a little, his cock sliding halfway out before you pushed back down. He whined, bucking up against you. When you were confident this wouldn’t result in a very embarrassing ER trip, you picked up your pace, sliding up and down on him. The feeling sent sparks across every muscle in your body, you licked into his mouth, trying to quiet your moans as much as possible. He jerked up into you, throwing off your rhythm for a moment. 

When you found the movement together, though? You swear you had died and gone to some filthy sticky version of heaven. You cried out, clinging to his shoulders. He wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you, the other on the back of your thigh helping you move with him. 

“Ah, fuck baby, feels so good,” He moaned, biting and licking at your jaw, muttering, “cítíte se skvěle, naprosto dokonale.”

You could have taken him for hours, drunk on the ways his hands moved over you, obsessed with the feeling of his cock filling you up. He bit down on your collar bone, you couldn't be bothered to care about the mark he was definitely going to leave. The way he twitched inside you made your entire core tighten up, your walls crushing around him.

He gasped, hand moving between your thighs. He began rubbing your clit, helping you regain the pace when you faltered. You grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back to kiss him again. It was messy and rough, your teeth tapping together as you devoured each other, tongues invading every area of flesh. 

“Come for me, Lasko,” He begged, pumping into you harder, fingers working against you fast, He licked into your mouth, arm around your waist tightening, “Come on my cock like a good girl.”

The feeling of him, against your clit, inside of you, his hands and mouth and breath and spit. It all pushed you closer, and closer to the edge. Every muscle in your body tightened and then released with the most intense pulsing.

“Good girl,  so good for me,”  He practically cried, taking his hand away from your clit, but fucking you through your climax. 

The stuttering of his hips told you he wasn’t far behind. You kept up your movements, ignoring the overstimulation as you continued to slide in and out. You clenched around him involuntarily, finally drawing it out of him. With a whimpering moan he came, both arms wrapping around your waist and his head buried in your chest. He gave a few more stuttering bucks as he filled the condom. You dropped your cheek against the top of his head, both of you breathing like you had just run a marathon. 

He pressed a kiss to the base of your throat, still clinging to you, all his muscles suddenly useless. You brushed your fingers through his hair, dragging your nails across his scalp gently. He pulled back, hands moving up and down your back. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking up into your eyes.

“I’m great,” You told him, a soft laugh passing your lips. He flinched, the tensing of your muscles around him way too much to handle. He lifted your hips up, pulling his softening dick out of you. You winced at the sudden emptiness, “Are you good?”

He readjusted your underwear and pressed a kiss to your lips, “I’m perfect, amazing even,” He smiled, you were grateful he was still kind after cumming.

He held onto your waist, leaning you backwards as you reached for something on the table. He pulled back a metal water bottle, offering it to you. You took it gratefully, it was cold and heavy and in your eyes might as well have been holy water. You unscrewed the lid and tilted it back, drinking from it for a few long seconds. He smiled at you fondly, brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You wiped your mouth on the back of your hand and handed it over to him, watching his tired face as he drank. Still pretty.

Now back in the real world, you realized how exposed you were. You glanced over your shoulder at the unlocked garage door, the sound of music and people still coming faintly from the house. Pretty Boy reached over and grabbed the borrowed t-shirt, turning it right side out and giving it to you. You pulled it on, content to be covered again. He pulled your face to his, kissing you slowly. His tongue tasted like you and was cold from the water. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your neck. All gentle.

When you pulled away, he tilted his head at the frown on your lips, “What’s wrong, Lasko?” You were dying to know what that meant. You were also dying to stay with him. To go back to wherever he lived and never leave his bed. Fuck it, even locking the garage door and staying here forever would work for you. But the others would be looking for you at some point, if they weren't already. 

“I should probably go,” The sadness in your voice betraying you.

“Do you want to go?” He asked, all sincerity. 

“No,” You scoffed, unable to lie while he looked at you with all the trust in the world, “But I have to. My roommate is probably looking for me, I was definitely gone a little longer than I said I would.”

“Hm, okay,” He brushed your hair behind your ear again, fingers lingering against your cheek. 

You kissed him again, just softly on the lips, before standing up. Your whole body ached, but the joints and muscles of your legs were impossibly stiff. You groaned, stretching your whole body up until your spine cracked with a satisfying pop. 

“Ah, nice,” He complimented, stretching out his own back. 

You bent down stretching your legs as you reached for your toes, a swift smack on your ass made you gasp, “Rude,” You scolded, standing back up.

“I’m just a man,” He said dramatically, making you roll your eyes as you stepped back into your shorts. He peeled the condom off, cringing as he tied it up and wrapped it in a paper towel, setting it on the ground, “I will deal with that in a second.”

“Yeah don’t forget it,” You warned, holding back a laugh.

He lifted his hips pulling his jeans and boxers back up and tucking himself away, “I’d have to drop out or kill myself… maybe both.”

“That’s fair honestly,” You nodded, watching his pretty hands button up his shirt. You missed them on you already. 

“You’re heading out?” He asked, though it sounded more like, ‘please don’t head out’.

“Unfortunately,” You leaned over him, hands on the back of the couch caging him in, you pressed your forehead this, “Thank you for a very good start to the semester, I appreciate it.”

“Likewise,” He punctuated his words with a kiss, lips slotting against yours, tasting you one last time. When you pulled away, he opened his mouth to say something, then sighed, “Have a goodnight, get home safely.”

“Will do,” You kissed the top of his head and turned around. You didn’t look at him as you walked to the door, knowing you’d walk right back to that couch. 

Outside, the summer air was practically freezing in comparison to how you felt minutes ago. You straightened your clothes and smoothed your hair as you walked back towards the house, music growing louder as you approached. When you put your hand on the handle of the sliding back door, you froze.

Every cell in your body was screaming at you to turn around. To walk back into the garage, ask for his name, his number, his hand in marriage. All of the crazy thoughts that come with really really good sex. You looked at your fingers wrapped around the handle, imagining them against his cheek. You could still feel him on your skin, against your lips. 

Why didn’t you ask his name? You wanted to beat yourself up. It would have taken two seconds, it would have been normal. More normal than not asking his name, honestly. Who does that? Who fucks someone who’s name they don’t even know. You needed to know.

Just as you released the handle and stepped away from the door, it slid open loudly, making you jump. Music poured out of the house, overwhelmingly loud. Lest stood in front of you, perfect face creased with stress and her bag on her shoulder.

“Where have you been?” She snapped at you, and then took a deep breath, calming herself, “You scared me half to death! You left your phone, I was actually on the verge of calling the cops.”

Dramatic as always, it was what you loved about her, “I’m sorry, I was just in the garage. Why didn’t you come get me?” Thank you, thank you, thank you for not coming to get me, you thought.

“What? Jayce said he saw you come back in the house?” She frowned, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside, you stood close to the cold glass as she spoke.

“It must have been someone else,” You shrugged and reached out for her arm to calm her, but dropped your hand when you realized you should probably wash them first, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize I didn’t have my phone on me.”

Lest sighed, “It’s okay, I’m just glad you're okay.”

You have no idea how ok I am, you thought, laughing to yourself.

“What?” She asked tilting her head, “Are you high? Were you smoking by yourself?”

“Nothing, I, yeah, I was.” You lied, hoping she couldn’t tell.

“That's- you shouldn’t do that,” She scolded, “It’s dangerous…and sad.”

You gasped, punching her shoulder gently, “Hey, there is nothing wrong with a little alone time.”

“Okay, whatever you say, freak.” She said, trying to hide her smile.

“Were you wanting to go home?” You asked, remembering that she was holding her bag. You looked around the house, people were definitely leaving, but it wasn’t odd for you and Lest to hang out with Jayce and Cait and the others until it was just your friend group, fighting sleep in favor of each other's company. 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” She looked sheepish, “I don’t feel super great. I know it’s still kind of early for us, I don’t mind going home by myself if you don’t want to leave.”

If you stayed, you could go back to Pretty Boy in the garage…

“Nah, I’m down to go home,” You told her, praising yourself for showing even a modicum of self restraint, “We ubering or walking?”

“Oh cool, ubering for sure,” She nodded with wide eyes. 

You laughed, “Good, I'm gonna go say bye, I’ll meet you outside?”

“Eh, you might just want to text them,” Lest cringed, “Jayce and Mel already snuck off to his room and Cait and Vi we’re only sticking around down here to keep the place from burning down. Not like either would notice with the way they were sucking face.”

“Ew, don’t say that,” You stuck your tongue out at the childish phrase.

You followed her through the house, grabbing your bag on the way out. When you sat on the curb to smoke a cigarette and wait for your ride, you couldn't help but to glance at the front door. Hoping every time it opened it would be Pretty Boy, leaving the stuffy party to catch his own Uber home. Or maybe walk if he lived close enough. Maybe you’d offer him a drag and ask his name. Maybe he’d have a different girl on his arm. Maybe you would both pretend to not recognize each other. 

Luckily, he never gave you the chance to find out.

[bullet-prooflove]

Hey! Me again, I was wondering if you had a lot of asks for (22. You look heavenly in this shade of blue) or (2. You take a polaroid of me lying on your bed). I was hoping for one of them or both whichever one works for you; for Jamie Reagan. Thank you again and take care!!!!!

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @alisbackalleybbq @ittybittyhogan @wynneinrome

Blue has always been your colour, Jamie has known that since the moment you’d been introduced as his new partner. You were knockout. You’d tried to downplay it, no makeup, hair pulled back into a severe bun but that smile…

Jesus, it had lit up his entire world.

It still does tonight when you step out of the bathroom wearing nothing but that silk, midnight blue night dress, the one that clings to your figure just right. His heart beats a little faster in his chest as you approach the bed and he thinks, not for the first time, that he can’t be this lucky. He doesn’t get to marry the girl of his dreams, he doesn’t get to hold her, to love her.

“You have that look on your face.” You say as you straddle his lap. His hands chase up the fabric, smoothing over it as your hips cant lightly against his. “The one that says you can’t believe this is happening.”

“It feels like I’m dreaming sometimes.” He tells you, tilting his head up so he can look into your eyes. “That having you here like this, it can’t be my life.”

“Oh Jamie.” You say, cradling his face between your hands. “What we have, it’s better than anything either one of us could have dreamed.”

Love Jamie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[faithsxoxo]

hi ! i hope you’re having a good day :) could you write a reagan ridley x fem/gn reader one shot, totally up to you ! i don’t really have anything in mind so feel free to play around with it however you like, would love if it had a bunch of fluff though ! thank you sm, stay hydrated and take care of yourself <33

pairings :: reagan ridley x fem!reader (established relationship) warnings :: none note :: my girl needs WAY more wlw appreciation (i love her)

The mechanical door to Reagan's office slams open, making you flinch. The brunette storms in, clutching a pile of crumpled papers.

"Hey, Reag, you alright?" You stand from your designated spot near her desk.

"I'm fine. No big deal, just my dad screwing me over as always," She grumbles. "He's decided that my work from the past month isn't up to 'Ridley standard' so I have to redo it all."

You can see Reagan visibly crumple as she flips through the pages she spent so long on. You didn't have a clue what any of it was about, but you knew it was complicated.

"I'm sorry," You whisper as you wrap your arms around her torso.

"It's not your fault," She mumbles, leaning into your touch.

"I know. Maybe I could help?" You rest your head in the crook of her neck. "We can go home.. have a spa day.. watch a movie.. stop worrying about this bullshit."

Reagan grins softly and shakes her head. "Tempting, but I have a deadline."

With that you can see the shift in her demeanor. She frowns and pulls away from your hold, reaching for the papers once again.

"No," You grab her arm and gently pull her away. "Not happening. We're going home if you like it or not."

"But-"

"No. I suddenly came on with an illness because I spent too long in the genetics department, and you came to take care of me. No buts," You link her arm with yours and lead her to the door.

"Twenty four hours, no work. Got it?" You give Reagan a stern look.

She shakes her head with a chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah. Got it."

Barely twenty minutes later, Reagan is sitting cross legged in front of you.

"Ugh, it's cold," She winces as you apply the face mask.

"Its hydrating. Alright, pick out a movie. I'm gonna go check on the popcorn," You finish with a peck on the lips, before skipping off to the kitchen of your small apartment. She had only moved in with you a few months prior, for your one year anniversary. Reagan had been desperate to escape from living with her dad any longer.

You take a moment to admire her while shes distracted. Reagan in her full beauty, splayed out on your cream couch. Her face is painted green, yet in your eyes she's still the pinacle of perfection. You take note of how relaxed she looks compared to the tense bundle of nerves she had been previously.

"Are you going to get the popcorn or are you going to keep ogling me?" Reagan calls across the room.

"I dont know, ogling seems pretty tempting," You grin back.

She rolls her eyes with a small huff, but you can see the corners of her lips turning up slightly. You swiftly grab the popcorn and return to your place on the couch.

"Hey," She grins softly at you as you curl into her side.

"Hey. What movie did you pick out?"

"Space Jam."

"Ugh, seriously?" You shake your head and giggle.

"What?" Reagan protests. "It's a good movie!"

"Suuuure. You gonna bring out your old prom dress with it?" You tease.

She smacks you on the arm playfully.

"It would be an honor to see me in that dress, I don't think you deserve it."

"Oh, right, after I've spent all this time giving you a spa day this is how you treat me," You cross your arms and begin to pull away.

"Maybe I'll just go eat popcorn by myself."

Reagan pulls you back towards her, wrapping her arms around your midsection.

"Too late, you're stuck with me," She announces, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You sigh, leaning back into her.

"I guess I can live with that."

Reagan turns on the movie as you snuggle into her. With the dim light of the TV, both of you eventually drift off in eachothers arms, finally in complete peace.

[penwieldingdreamer]

A Shot in the Dark ~ Prologue

Well, welcome to my latest obsession - FBI and OA Zidan. This is a crossover between FBI, FBI: Most Wanted & Blue Bloods. Let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged in any future chapters.

I do not own any of the characters of the FBI Franchise and Blue Bloods, they belong to their respective owners

Summary It's said, you'll always meet twice in life. But you never thought it be in a hostage situation with a gun pressed against your head.

Warnings: hostage situation, canon typical violence, coarse language, smut in later chapters

The human mind is really the scariest thing of all.

Life in general is scary, and yet you step out of your home each day and face it. You imagine how a situation might turn out if you just changed one thing in your day to day life. Sometimes it’s the sandwich they didn’t have at the bakery and sometimes it’s the choice you make on the job.

“Andrew, drop the gun and let my sister go!” Detective Danny Reagan called, his own weapon trained on the former NYPD officer, voice shaking as he looked at you, seeing his own fear mirrored in your eyes. “She’s got nothing to do with this. You want me. Let the kids and her go.”

Shaking his head, former police officer Andrew O'Sullivan pushed the muzzle of his gun harder against your temple. "They are all the leverage I need to get you to do what I want."

"O'Sullivan! This is Agent Scott and Agent Bell with the FBI. Surrender your weapons and let the hostages go. We will make sure that your demands are met, but you need to let the kids and Miss Reagan go."

You could feel the tears running down your cheeks, but you knew you had to be strong for the children. Their parents put you in charge and you, as their teacher, needed to make sure they'd get out safe. “Please Mister O’Sullivan, you got me, let the children go home. They don’t have anything to do with this.”

Your heart was hammering in your throat watching your brother desperately trying to get Andrew to drop the weapon, the ground feeling like it was going to be pulled from underneath you. And here you thought it was going to be a good day today.

Five hours earlier, 9:15 Bluestone Lane Tribeca Café

"So, heard anything from tall, dark and handsome? You looked cute together."  

“Erin!”

“Mom! You’re embarrassing her.”

The lawyer grinned into her coffee mug as the three of you sat together for breakfast. "What!? I saw pictures from way back when. It's been more than four years now, just thought maybe you'd have a run in with him again."

"Nope, haven't seen him since before he started training at Quantico and you would know that. I'm practically living with dad and pop again after those idiots living above me wouldn't have smoked weed and forgot to shut off the water."

Nicky only rolled her eyes at her mother trying to play matchmaker – as always. “You should leave Y/N alone. Danny would have a field day if she came home with him.”

“Thank you, Nicky, I knew why you were my favorite niece.” You took a bite from your chocolate croissant. Usually you’d be getting the breakfast sandwich the café was famous for but today they were all out.

“I’m your only niece, so that’s not a hard feat to do.”

“Yet.” You pointed a finger at the younger woman. “And I don’t even know where he is. I’ll not be running after him and use dads resources to find him.”

“All I’m saying is that you should get laid, you can’t just stay a single workaholic forever." 

Sending your sister a disapproving look, you could see the disgust on your nieces face. She was old enough to be part of that conversation and already had one boyfriend, yet you knew she was absolutely embarrassed by her mother's choice of breakfast conversation.

"Mom! God! I'll be heading off to work or you'll start talking about dad and yourself." Nicky, so much like Erin grabbed her purse and to-go cup, leaned over to kiss her mother's cheek before she moved next to you. With her arm draped over your shoulder, she leaned in as if to whisper into your ear but still spoke at normal volume. "Don't let her bully you into looking him up. You do you, Auntie, but she's right, you need to get laid."

Slack jawed at her gall, you turned accusatory eyes on the lawyer. "That's definitely on you, Erin. You taught her to be like that."

"Well, she's definitely got that from me and she'd make a great lawyer like that."

Letting out a sigh, you leaned back in your chair.

Damn, they were right.

Quickly apologizing to God under your breath, you try to anchor yourself to your mug. It had been years since you had seen Omar. You had met him outside a bar in the Financial District, after a date had dumped her right before dessert, telling her she wasn’t worth his time.

“He’s a dick, he wasn’t going to know what to do with you anyway.”

You sat together at the bar and talked about random stuff – friends, hobbies, only things that wouldn’t compromise him as you later found out he was undercover for the DEA.

“You’re quiet, what are you thinking about?”

Blinking, you watched your sister with a small, wistful smile, something she had seen so often when you had gone out to have breakfast with Nicky and her every Saturday morning. “Nothing.” You shrugged your shoulders, but the secret smile that barely turned up the corners of your mouth was still there and the lawyer knew that one, she had seen it often enough.

Erin took a sip from her coffee, narrowing her eyes at you. “Don’t give me that shit, Y/N. It’s Tall, Dark and Handsome isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” You admitted quietly, looking down at your fingers, busy playing with the white napkin under your croissant.

“You should get Eddie to look for him, maybe he’s in town.”

Shaking your head vigorously. “No, I’ll not be looking for him. We would have seen each other, probably...maybe.”

“New York is huge, you think you’d just walk down Broadway and bam! There he is? Y/N, I can assure you, that’s not how it works.” She laughs, knowing all about it with her ex-husband Jack. “You want him, you need to look for him, he’s not just going to turn up if you snap your fingers.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to look for him, maybe it wasn’t meant to be if I haven’t run into him by now. Or maybe he’s somewhere in D.C., happily married with 1.93 kids, living in the suburbs and chasing the bad guys.”

Chuckling, the lawyer shook her head at you. “You got it all figured out now, huh? Maybe he’s still single, thinking about that maybe with you. He was really nice when he came around for lunch that day.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me, Eddie wouldn’t shut up about him for a week straight.” Just then your phone chimed, letting you know that you needed to get ready to get to your Junior High class for their field trip to the museum. You would meet them together with their parents right in front of the museum. “Shit, I’m late! Sorry Erin, I got to head off.”

“We’re not done talking about him!” She called after you as you raced out of the cafe to the next Metro station.

An hour and a half later you remind your seventh grade students to be nice and listen closely to the lady showing you around the National History Museum. “There’s going to be a test on Monday next week, so you guys should take notes on all of this.”

A groan ripped through the hall and I knew they hated me for this. “But Miss Reagan, you said we could have fun today.” Jimmy calls from the back, a frown on his cute face. 

Giggling, you shook your head. They were still thinking it was just going to stay easier from there on out. “I did, but it doesn’t mean you guys can slack off on your school work. This is going to help you with your Science project.”

Groans, followed by sighs from your students were the end of that conversation. You and the group of thirteen-year-olds followed Mrs. Langdon as she talked about the museum, which exhibitions had already been part of the building and what was waiting for the boys and girls of Lower Manhattan Middle School. They were in the Early Adolescence stage and it was absolutely normal for them to act like that. With Nicky, Jack and Sean you had been exposed to that stage early on and you loved them for it.

You entered the Saurichian Hall of the museum, awed by the skeletons, the hairs on your arms starting to raise from the goosebumps at the imagination of having lived back in time, 66 millennia’s ago. But somehow, it wasn’t the only thing that gave you the shivers. At the entrance of the museum you had seen a guy, dressed like everyone else. But you had been around police your whole life and listened to your bothers to know that something was definitely wrong with him. His head was down but you saw his eyes darting about like he was searching for something – or someone.

Getting to the next section, you slightly turned your head away from your students excitingly listening to the tales of each dinosaur exhibited at the museum.

There he was again, the backpack slung low on his shoulders and it looked like he was sweating. Was he sick and needed help? If so, wouldn’t he have asked the people at the front desk or even stayed at home.

Danny had always told you to be vigilant about suspicious people roaming about and this guy fit the description. Should you text Danny or Jamie? They were probably busy with their cases and if he was just a creep you’d make a fool out of yourself and maybe your dad in extension.

Police Commissioner’s daughter accuses visitor at the National History Museum to be a creep and makes a laughing stock out of the Reagan family.

Now that would be the headline of the week.

Turning back to listen to Mrs. Langdon and your students with a sigh you missed him pulling out a gun from under his jacket, pointing it at your back before slightly lifting it up and pulling the trigger.

11:40, Joint Operations Center

“Alright guys, we've got a hostage situation at the National History Museum. Twenty-two students from LoMa Middle School and their teacher. This is high profile. Detective Reagan with the NYPD called it in about fifteen minutes ago.” ASAC Jubal Valentine’s voice rang out through the JOC. He motioned to Elise, one of the Analysts to put every information on the screens. “This is Y/N Reagan, she’s a teacher at the school and also the daughter of New York City Police Commissioner Frank Reagan.”

Your picture popped up on the screens, a happy smile on your face as you sat together with your father and your brother Jamie at a city function.

“You know, now that I’m done with my trainee-ship as teacher, we could make it official. Dad wants me to tag along at this function or other and I’d like to take you as my plus one.” You smiled at him, your arms slung around his neck as you lounged together on his bed.

Omar ran his fingers from your shoulder to your elbow and up again. He loved the feeling of your soft skin under his hands, slightly roughed from the army. “It would be nice, I’d love to finally show you off to my family as well. Erin has been nagging me like a hen to know who the guy is making me smile all day.” He smiled, nuzzling her neck and listening to her giggles as his nose and beard rubbed up and down against that point where her neck met her shoulder.

"I'd like that. I bet your sister isn't the only one nagging." He chuckled, burrowing closer and pushing his lower half against yours earning a soft groan from you.

Your fingers raked over his head, feeling the short cropped hair tickle the palm of your hands. “Pop and dad are already giving me those penetrative looks, you know the ones where they are acting like cops and trying to read a suspects thoughts.”

Closing his eyes, the former army ranger breathed in your scent. It was the one thing that grounded him on days his mind sent him back to Iraq. “From what you told me I’m more afraid of your brother, not your father and grandpa.”

Omar moved next to Maggie, a soft Shit leaving his lips as his eyes swept over the screens. It had been a few years since he’d last seen you, only a few days short of leaving for his training at Quantico. Seeing your face, tear track staining your cheeks with the suspect pressing his gun to your head.

The brunette watched her partner, the fingers of his left hand anxiously playing with his ring. A sign that he was nervous. A sign Maggie had learned in the beginning when they first were partnered up.

“You know her?”

He sighed, “We, ugh, we dated for a while before, before I went into training. I...broke it off, because I thought she’d be better off without me.”

“Gosh, OA.” Maggie murmured, scratching a fingernail along her eyebrow thoughtfully. She knew her partner had been in relationships before – he was Muslim, not a virginal saint, but she had never seen him this distraught or anxious. 

It was clear as day that you were still important to him and it took everything in him to not run out the door and drive off toward the museum.

"What do we have on the suspect?" Isobel questioned, coming to stand next to her 2nd in charge. 

"Suspect is 40 year old Andrew O'Sullivan, former police officer with the NYPD, 54th Precinct and bomb specialist with the Marines. Detective Daniel Reagan, Y/N’s older brother was part of the investigation against him.” Kelly Moran, an analyst at the JOC spoke up, tapping hastily on his keyboard and sending the pictures of their suspect to the bigger screens. “He took drugs from evidence and tried to sell it on the street. O’Sullivan needed it for his daughter, she has leukemia and he was going to take the money to pay for her treatments.”

The analyst pressed a key to show the picture of a little girl, maybe ten years old, grinning at the camera. “Lena O’Sullivan, she”

“His daughter died two days ago, that’s why he’s doing it. He wanted to save her from it and we took the money that would pay for her treatment. Andrew has been angry with me for a while and called me after Lena died.” A new voice sounded from behind them, strong and authoritative, yet they could all hear the pain laced into his words. “He has my sister and if you guys don’t get a move on, Andrew is going to kill them all.” Detective Daniel Reagan had made his way to the JOC, knowing he couldn’t make a move against O’Sullivan without the people of the FBI. You were his little sister and he’d be damned just sitting around at the precinct when he needed to get you to safety. More so when Erin would have his head for being the reason the former officer had you and your kids as hostages.

[ben-pincus]

might I request headcanons for brett hand where after the still valley episode, the reader kinda sorta swipes his blue letterman jacket just cuz (I want one so badly I don’t think you understand) and his reaction to seeing them wear it?

please, and thank you

i died but im back now!! and yes. id love to steal that silly blue letterman RAH

-he was looking for his blue letterman like ALL over the place

-poor lad thought he lost it :(

-so he asked the gang, and when they immediately said they hadnt seen it, he KNEW something was up....

-his brett senses were tingling...

-so when he went to you, and saw YOU in HIS blue letterman he almost died

-like, he froze up for a moment, just watching you get coffee at like 2AM

-"brett.. are you okay?"

"YES I'M OKAY I AM PERFECTLY FINE-"

-then you realise that he's probably like... hopping off the WALLS from you wearing his jacket

-he's like,,, RED in the face by now

-looking like a tomato

-and you then tease him about it, which makes him even MORE red

-so in short, he'll go from white boy to tomato boy in 0.2 nanoseconds if you wear his letterman

-he might let you keep it

-he just might because you look amazing in it <3

[sin-sidejob]

Hello,how are you doing?

May I request some pillow Princess reagan x reader smut?

National Girlfriend Day

Pairing: Reagan Ridley x GN / AFAB Reader

Warnings: NSFW, MINORS DNI - smut, doggystyle fucking, reader wears a strap, mentions of assplay, spitting, fingering, cumplay, reader calls Reagan "Good Girl, Pretty, Princess, Baby" and literally talks to her pussy. Gender unspecified for reader with no body description beyond wearing a strap-on.

Contents: smut, aftercare, use of sex toys/strap-on, Pillow Princess Reagan + my requests were closed when this was submitted but today's National Girlfriend Day, and who better to celebrate it than baby girl Reagan Ridley? length: 3k dividers by: @/saradika-graphics & @/cafekitsune

She's got no clue about today.

It was easy to plan around Reagan’s schedule and know she’d have no idea about what day it was or what you had even planned by the time her worn sneakers treaded over the unwelcome mat and into your shared home. 

And just like you expected, she’s too busy marveling over how clean everything is and how you actually managed to get the stains out of her diploma that she doesn't catch you lingering in the kitchen doorway and how your gaze is heady enough to know any meal tonight won’t be comprised of food. 

You’d already heard of her bad day at work, dealing with the tedious items on her itinerary as always and managed to order her dinner delivery to work so she wouldn’t starve and overwork herself until she came home later. It allowed you more time to make sure you could take care of her as she deserved, and it makes it all worth it the second her eyes land on you and she give you that crooked smile you’ve fallen in love with. 

“You cleaned all this?” 

Her arms coil around your waist as she looks over your face, the tiredness still there around her eyes but it eases as you brush a few stray hairs off her forehead and back to the side of her bangs, blending into her ponytail. She’s beautiful, stained labcoat and all, and you’re thrumming with excitement already to show your adoration through forcibly erasing her bad day with a good ending. 

“Mhm, wanted to give you something nice to come home to. Kept me busy from missin’ you too much,” you murmur, leaning to kiss at her jaw and cheek, lowering to her neck as you feel her breath hitch and the nervous laugh let out as she splays a palm over your back. 

“My you’re eager.” 

She marvels as you pull back and grin, eyes already half-lidded as you smooth your hands over her waist and beneath the hem to glide over the smooth skin of her stomach. “Just wanna’ show you how much I love ya’, been needin’ you all damn day princess.” 

Shuddering, she knows she’s in for it with that term of endearment passing your lips, the dynamic already set now as she processes that she’s about to be fucked out real quick and real soon. You take her hand in yours as you smooth the other up her spine and she knocks her nose into yours before kissing you messily. 

“Nngh, take me to bed already,” Reagan murmurs, having pulled back enough to catch your kiss-bitten lips and the utter lust in your eyes. You oblige, leading her upstairs to the bedroom before you work on undressing her, letting her undo her shoes as you shred yourself of your top and pants, clad in a pair of undershorts and a harness she recognizes immediately. 

Swallowing, she eyes you up and down before you crowd her against the bed and mouth at her neck while you help her shimmy out of her pants, pulling off her socks with reverence as you kiss her ankle while she quickly strips off her shirt and bra, panting already. 

You tilt your head in the direction towards the further end of the bed, at the headboard where the pillows lie, and Reagan immediately backs herself against them as you lay on your belly between her parted thighs and make yourself comfortable as you kiss between the ticklish skin of her legs. 

She jerks with a particular nip at the inner thigh and you catch her leg in your grip, easing it over your shoulder as you sidle up and kiss at her panties, the center already soaked through visibly with her wetness and you whistle as you pull them to the side, exposing her glistening cunt and how she clenches around nothing the second you blow a little air over her hooded clit, relishing in watching her squirm. 

“Don’t be a tease. Please go ‘head and move.” 

Tutting, you send her a look while you lift her other thigh over your shoulder, hands dragging her waist closer to your face as you inhale her cunt, grossly sniffing at her clit in a manner that has Reagan’s hands covering her face before you kiss tenderly at her labia, tracing your tongue down to her weeping slit and delving in, wriggling the muscle of your tongue against her walls as she begins to whine her hips against your face. Her hand clutches at your scalp as you let her use your mouth to get off, humming as you curl your tongue upwards and inhale through your nose, surrounded by the musk of her and sweat and the bergamot of her perfume. 

You’d happily choke on it, and on her, but its a day about pleasing her so your death can wait. 

Breaching up, slick strands cling to your chin as you press your cheek to her thigh, your hand quelling her brief protests as you ease your two middle digits into the molten heat of her cunt and curl upwards, hitting that g-spot with precision that sends her arching, clutching at your head still and reaching back to white-knuckle the headrest. 

“Feelin’ good princess? Want more?” 

She’s nodding, eyes clamped shut as she wriggles her hips forward in stuttered bucking motions to fuck herself against your hand, wanting and needing more to get that orgasm curling in her abdomen to release. “Need your mouth, want your teeth please.” 

Obliging, you nose at her clit and lick beneath the hood to openly suckle at the bundle of nerves, laughing against her as she lifts her hips off the bed against your mouth once you begin curling your fingers and sucking softly between grazes of your teeth to the sensitive skin around her clit. 

Reagan’s desperate now, the sweat creating a sheen on her skin, and she catches your eyes when she looks down only to have hers roll back once you scissor your fingers and lap at her clit with a sloppy tongue, sending her creaming. 

Your mouth lowers to where your fingers retract, lapping up all the wetness she leaks and cleaning her up idly until shes patting at your shoulders, whining from overstimulation and dragging you back up into her arms so she can kiss you, moaning at the taste of herself on your tongue. 

Her hands clutch at your head and neck, wetly making out until she can’t breathe and you take the opportunity to rise, leaving her only for a moment to grab the toy she and you both have been waiting for, slipping the dildo through the harness before crawling back onto bed as Reagan makes you pause. 

“Can we try what you showed me last week?” 

Thinking back, you nearly moan at the thought and nod, already guiding Reagan onto her belly with her ass arched high as you settle behind her, fingers slicking back between her drenched folds to fuck her cunt, making her whine as she lowers her face to the bed below. 

“That’s it baby, keep that arch f’me. Gonna’ make you feel real good.”

You make good on that shortly, getting her close to cumming again as you stretch her out enough to take your strap well if not with ease. You might like to see her cry, but you don’t want to see her in pain. By the time you pull your fingers out from her tight pussy, she's whining and already wiggling her ass back for something to replace the stimulation, missing the feeling. 

Reagan’s nearly dumb and drooling already, uncaring of how she looks now by the time you press down at the bottom of her spine, forcing her back into a sinful arch as her cheek smudges against the silky pillows to watch as you brace her thighs outside yours and fondle her ass cheeks. 

You let out an audible tch in amusement at reading her tattoo again, the scrawl of the text reading Mommy Likey Drinky making you audibly chuckle, thinking about how she really does like to drink from you when she's especially frustrated and in need of a good meal. She eats pussy like a menace, you’re a bit kinder but you’ll give the credit where it's due. 

Leaning forward, you crowd her against the bed and press her further into the sheets, your strap wedging between her thighs as you feel her rock her ass back, lifting her head to look back at you. “Gonna’ be a good girl f’me? Let me fuck you stupid and drive all those thoughts out as you lay back and let me do the work?”

Reagan is nodding before you even finish but finds herself groaning as she rocks her hips back and finds friction at the hood of her clit, just enough to send her trembling and begging with need as your hands smooth over her ribs and over the globe of her ass. 

“Please, need it bad — I’ll be so good, gonna’ be so good for youohhh fuuck.” 

You’ve gripped the base in hand and slid the silicone between her lips, watching the pooling sheen of her slick soak the strap to the point that when you pull back, webs of dewy precum cling between her pussy and your strap. 

Christ you should’ve celebrated this sooner. 

Reagan’s hands fist into the sheets and pillows as she firthers the arch in her back, feeling it burn almost in those divots near her backside until you plant your hands over her lower waist, thumbs pressing deliciously into the knots and nerves of her lower spine as she whines. 

“So worked up baby and ‘m not even in’ya yet,” you’re half mocking and half marveling at how her thighs stand taut as you pry her asscheeks apart, hearing her hiss as the cold air hits her puckered hole. Just to be a bit mean, you gather spit in your mouth, spitting it with an audible hawk-tuah! As you aim it on her asshole, grinning as she writhes against you while it drips down, soaking the back of her while you bring your strap back into your hand. 

“Quit fussin’, I’m just hitting it from the back princess, we’re not trying that today. 

“Fuckin’ better,” she growls before sending back a half-hearted glower at you over her shoulder that has you cooing and pressing your front to her back, feeling the sheen of sweat over her skin already as you nose at her neck, pressing a few adoring kisses there as you linger. 

“S’okay baby, we can save that for our anniversary.”

Before she can mouth off another smart comment, you’re parting her labia back with a hand sprawling across her cunny and back half of her asscheek while the other wraps around the silicone base, maneuvering the cockhead to smear wetly against her clit. 

You chuckle as you circle the attention there, watching as her back muscles tremor before you pat her tramp stamp affectionately as you hold onto her ass to keep her planted as you ease the mushroom-tip of the pretty pink dildo into her cunt, letting out lines of sugary-sweet praise as you ease in inch by inch. 

“Hah-fuck, r-right there.”

You grind your hips in a sideways infinity, shifting left and right to grind against her g-spot slow and steady to send her warbling your name into the pillow now tugged to her face, hiding majority of her expression besides the blissed out curl of her lip and the furrow of her dark brows. 

Reaching back, you snag your phone from the back pocket of your jeans and snap a picture of her as she is now, already blissed out and arching as if trying to get closer to a god while stretched-halfway around your cock. You toss it aside the second she stutters her hips backwards and reaches a hand back, immediately receiving your hand in hers as she clutches it, squeezing the palm while she writhes and feels her bared tits brush and drag against the sheets to a point that the taut points of her nipples only add to the pleasure coursing, thrumming through her veins like a drug. 

She barely has to do a thing but let you hold onto her as she holds your hand, your grip strong at her hip bone while you ease the strap in further, noting the heady sigh of relief when you knock at her cervix Reagan lets out as she squeezes your hand. You slow, smoothing your hand over her back, tracing the lettering on her tattoo as you wait for her to let you know when to move. 

For now, you rub over her sweat-damp skin and check in with her, getting a thumbs up and a verbal green light after a minute passes, allowing you to pull back your hips and ease the strap out, hearing her cunt squelch as if missing you already, and take you back in as you shift forward. 

You snake your arm around her belly as you crowd her a bit, hand now at her lower pelvis and going past the curls of her bush to her clit and thumbing it slowly, matching the pulses of her nerves as you gradually increase the pace in your thrusts, her thighs now propped up over your own that keep her steady. 

“How’s this feelin’? Good?” 

She can barely tilt her head to meet your gaze but manages to catch your eye as she moans low once you match the pace of your hand, pressing upward against the bulge of your strap now plunging her guts, her lips parted wetly. “M’fuckin’ great — k-keep going.”

Grinning, you lean over and nip at her shoulder and then down her back while you pick up the pace, pressing her belly upward to hold her upright as you bring her hips back into yours as you thrust them forward, the sheen of her arousal now forming a creamy ring at the base of your strap and soaking the harness fabric close to the fake balls that smack at her puffy lips, nearly meeting your fingers as you roll and press at her clit, easing between faster and slower paces. 

Her pussy is lewdly squelching, the drench of her cunt sounding loud every time you shift back and forth and you can’t help but chuckle darkly as you rock Reagan’s waist back towards your pistoning hips with abandon. “Hear that baby? Even your pretty pussy’s cryin’ for me. Needed me real bad, huh?” 

Nodding, she feels like she’s about to cry but also bust apart at the seams any second with the pressure careening through her lower abdomen. Its a heavy pressure than sends her gushing around you and anticipating an orgasm that’ll make her near blackout, and her legs are close to giving out as they recline against yours at the thought of how close she is to release. “Think m’gonna c-cum.” 

“Y’close baby? I gotcha’ just ease into it f’me.” 

Gritting your teeth, you grind your hips in a circling motion every time you bottom out after lifting your hips back, making Reagan tremble beneath you as you wrench out an orgasm that you drag out, kissing at her skin as you ease off her clit and fuck her on your strap until she deflates fully onto the bed with a sated mewl, allowing you to pull out and see the small gush of wetness pool forth onto the sheets 

Undoing the clasps on the strap, you toss it to the side as you crawl up the bed to lie beside Reagan who sleepily opens her eyes to stare at you once you brush a few strands of her hair back, lifting her cheek to press into your palm as she sighs happily. 

“How’s that head?”

“No complaints yet,” 

She giggles softly, more of a snicker but she’s too out of breath, and you raise a brow. “Head’s empty. Water and a washcloth?” 

A brief kiss to her dewy forehead is left before you go and slip into the ensuite bathroom, wetting a washcloth with warm water after filling a glass kept beneath the sink with cold water, returning quickly to find she’s nearly asleep with her ass still somewhat perched in the air. 

You glance at your phone but decide against another photo as you near, easing reagan onto her back so she can sit up and sip at the water while you part her thighs and dutifully clean up, being extra tender and leaving kisses behind as you wipe between her folds and pull back her hooded clit. 

“There, all done, you just gotta’ hit the bathroom then you can sleep.” 

You shrug on an oversized muscle tee and some baggy sleep shorts before easing Reagan into a soft bralette and a pair of boxers before taking the strap up to the bathroom to clean it in the morning. “You’ll have to carry me there.”

Reagan can’t help but laugh at your grin from the offer, always enjoying taking care of her, especially as you smile against her mouth once you crawl back onto the bedsheets you both can’t be bothered to change until the morning. 

“C’mon pretty girl, bathroom then bed.” 

Reagan fails to hide the smile that forms as she raises her arms for you to help carry her to the bathroom, her legs aching and unsteady from being bent over like that with her arched spine a workout all of its own. 

She settles over the toilet as you move to brush your teeth as she goes, long having passed the personal bubbles and sharing intimacy in all matters. Cleaning up, Reagan is bumping her hip into yours by the time she’s washing her hands when you spit out the minty foam of your toothpaste. 

It isn’t until minutes later, when she’s curled up in your arms as your legs entangle, that she kisses at your shoulder while you card your hand through the hair that splays over her shoulder. 

“Feelin’ loved?” 

She’s blinking in the dark, close enough to see you and how you’re genuinely asking, and she hums, her hand tapping at your waist as she nudges closer. “Very.” 

“Good,” You finally let rest seep into your bones with that, lifting the dirtied sheets over yourself and the blanket beneath over your entwined bodies before you let your breaths even, 

"Happy Girlfriend’s Day, baby.” 

MASTERLIST | PROMPTS | SONG PROMPTS | NAVIGATION

© sin-sidejob 2024 — All the written content property of @/sin-sidejob is not open to translations, repostings, or plagiarism which are not tolerated.

[rubixcuby]

Cant take my mind off my Bretty boy 😍💕

TW: bl00d!

[hurlingsupport]

Can we get a part two of Late-Afternoon Meting?! I need more fr

More Reagan!!!

"Late-Evening Date" (Reagan Ridley x Gender Neutral Reader One-shot)

<- Prequel

You tap the table in boredom, eyes searching the small restaurant for any sign of the woman you're waiting on. The cup of tea you had ordered was already emptied. However, you didn't ask for another in fear of filling yourself up before dinner. Well, not that the cups were very big in the first place. Maybe it wouldn't hurt?

You groan, leaning back in your chair in an attempt to pull yourself away from the idea. Where the hell is -

The doors to the restaurant burst open just as your mind wanders, a panicked woman's eyes meeting yours before she's running towards you. Her dress is nice, albeit a bit scratched up with some suspicious red stains. Her hair was down too, slight waves apparent now that it wasn't tied back.

"So, sorry. I, uh..." Reagan spared a glance down at herself, grimacing at her appearance. "I can, um, change? I don't really -"

"You look pretty." You interrupt, leaning your cheek against your hand as you look up at her. You watch her eyes widen, fingers fiddling with the gun in her hand.

"So... it's okay?" She's inching closer to the booth, although still reluctant.

"Yeah. You might want to put that away, though." You point towards the weapon in her hands, and it seems she only notices the fearful stares she's getting now that you're mentioning it.

"Oh my god," she curses, shoving it into her purse before taking a seat across from you. "I swear I meant to get here sooner. I got caught up in some things, and uh, as you can see, there were some disagreements."

She pauses, face pulling into a frown as yours continues to stare at her with a happy expression.

"Are you not angry?" She asks quietly.

"Reagan, we work at the same place." You remind her.

She holds her hands together awkwardly, looking around the restaurant for a waiter. "I know that, it's just..."

"Just what?" You implore, spotting a waiter and waving them over. You order a dish for yourself, looking towards Reagan as she orders something as well. Once the waiter leaves, Reagan's staring at you again.

"I mean, I haven't seen you lately." She admits, face reddening. "I know we're both full-grown adults,"

"Yeah."

"And I know we both have jobs to do, especially with Cognito Inc." Her eyes fall to the table.

"Mhm."

"But, uh, I missed you." She practically whispers.

"We talked yesterday, Reagan."

"Work conversations aren't really conversations." She insists.

"Well, I missed you too." Your hands grab hers, intertwining your fingers atop the table. "Next time we should do something at my place."

"What?" Reagan sputters.

"You wanted to replicate my style of robotics, didn't you? I have my blueprints at home, and we can work on it together." You beam at her.

"Oh! Right, of course." Her nervous smile disappears, replaced by a relaxed grin. "I'd - I'd love that."

"Me too." You respond, the two of you inching closer and closer, until -

"Did you want a refill on your tea?"

The both of you jump, falling back into your seats in surprise.

"Uh, yes, thank you." You smile timidly at the waiter.

"And, could I get a coffee, please?" Reagan adds.

The waiter leaves after writing your requests down, and a silence falls over the two of you.

"You look nice." Reagan's hands meet yours once more, rubbing your knuckles gently.

"Thanks." A smile stretches across your face as you watch Reagan fiddle with your hands.

It's a great dinner, despite the awkward moments where there was nothing to be said. However, given the giggles that would fall from your guys' lips every time that occurred, it didn't seem to mess up the evening too much. The night ends quicker than you expect it to, and before you know it, you're standing outside the restaurant with your coworker.

"Was your coffee good?" You ask suddenly because you never tried the coffee at this place. Not that you drank coffee much at all. Perhaps you were just interested in what Reagan had to say about it.

"I guess. I really just drink it for the caffeine, so the taste doesn't matter to me." She explains, pulling your jacket tighter against her chest. It was a little chilly out. "Was your tea good?"

You hum, taking a second or two to respond. "Yeah, I might have added too much sugar, though."

You're well aware of the fact that the both of you are stalling, but you don't mind. Your hand is held tightly in hers as the two of you lean against the wall of the building. You're not sure if there were busses this late.

"Are you -" Reagan pauses, brushing some stray strands of hair behind her ear. Her free hand messes with the strands, twisting and pulling anxiously. "Do you need a ride?"

Reagan, unlike you, has a car. You're probably supposed to be ashamed of it, but despite that, you thank yourself for your lack of free time giving you this chance.

"Yeah, thanks, Reagan." You squeeze her hand, walking with her as she makes her way towards the parked vehicle.

"Of course." She murmurs.

The ride is rather silent, but not awkwardly so. Your eyelids grow heavy as you sit in the passenger seat. You can see Reagan's tired as well, although more so due to her endeavors before the date. It's not long before she's pulling into your driveway, in fact, you don't even notice until she shakes your shoulders.

"We're here." She says quietly, and you're tempted to fall right back to sleep at the sound of her voice. However, you know Reagan's tired, and you'd hate to keep her awake for longer than she needs to be. Especially considering her streak of all-nighters.

You hum in response, sitting up and unbuckling your seatbelt. Your hand finds the handle of the door, but something within stops you from opening the door.

Turning back towards the driver's seat, you lean over the center console, grabbing onto it with one hand for stability and turning Reagan's head with your other hand.

"Can I kiss you?" You ask, eyes watching as Reagan's shocked expression morphs into a more serene one.

"Yeah." Her words are muffled as she leans forward sooner than they escape her.

It's short, more than you'd like it to be, but the sweetness that comes with it makes up for it. Well, in reality, the kiss was quite bitter. You could taste the remnants of Reagan's coffee, the earthy taste lingering on your tongue as you both pull away. Despite this, you can't help but feel it's the sweetest kiss you've had.

"You definitely added too much sugar." Reagan laughs, leaning in closer, yet not allowing your lips to meet.

A snicker escapes you, "Reagan," you call with a smile.

She meets your eyes, her gaze intense from your proximity. "Yeah?"

"Don't forget to give my jacket back to me tomorrow." You softly tug on the fabric, and Reagan takes the chance to lean even closer.

"If I do forget, will you come to my place?" You can feel the smile on her lips as they meet yours.

"With your dad there? Hell no." You laugh, pushing her back when she tries to wrap her arms around you.

"I can kick him out." She offers, hands latching onto your shirt.

"Reagan." You warn, but it comes off as playful with the laughter falling from your mouth.

"Fine! Your house then?" Her words are met with a groan as you finally escape her grasp and open the passenger door.

You lean down before closing it, giving the woman a smile. "Bye, Reagan."

She holds a similar smile, although it's certainly more nervous than yours. "Bye."

With that, you close the door, waving her goodbye until her car is completely out of your sight. Once it is, you make your way towards your door, unlock it, and throw your shoes off as soon as it closes behind you. Normally, you'd brush your teeth before going to bed, but you feel as if you're going to collapse in exhaustion.

So instead, you plop onto your bed, still in your formal clothes, and drift off. You're probably going to hate yourself in the morning for it, but at least they're work appropriate. Plus, now you have a totally professional conversation with Reagan to look forward to.

[maleposting]

this is a rare moment in which i think abo straight cis white couples.. .

im thinking about them. mabe a bit to much but is ok. ill be fine. ill exis.t. i think i m very normal.

[slvtforfiction]

Andre Lee NSFW Headcanons

☆ No one asked for this but I needed this

☆ Inside job!

☆ Andre Lee X Reader

☆ Fluff,Smut

☆ Tw// Drug abuse and misuse

☆ New account layout,will try change old layout as much as possible,requests are open.

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

☆ Credits to @cafekitsune for dividers!

☆ You two met because you bumped into him at a party

“Fuck sorry,didn’t mean to.”

“You take molly?”

“Yeah,I’m tripping dude.”

MARRIAGE.

☆ OR meeting him at a rave

“Hey have you got anything?”

“Your inner beauty is beyond special.”

“I’ll give you my number if you wanna sell me some Molly.” I giggled

☆ This man is sloppy. SLOPPY. He will be so beautifully sloppy when he’s eating you out,it’s almost a daily orgasm from how much you crave his touch.

☆ This man is an absolute munch and you can’t tell me otherwise. He will look up at you with the most blown out eyes and yet you can still see the adoration in his eyes as he eats you out.

☆ He’s definitely a switch.

☆ MASSIVE Sadist,if you slap him for any reason that man is on his hands and knees begging you to do it again.

“Sorry I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“Oh god please do it again.”

☆ He loves a rope bunny,if he can tie you to the bed watching you wriggle underneath him he’s reeling above you.

☆ HIGH SEX. Andre is the best when it comes to high sex,he knows how sensitive you become when you’re high and he knows all the sensitive places along your body,he’s committed them to memory.

☆ Following up he would absolutely take edibles with you. If you get horny while you’re high he’s all over you. Subtly grinding against his thigh,it’s not subtle at all,as he quietly helps you rub against him,you don’t notice.

☆ He’ll absolutely fuck you in his lab. He’s already trashed it,may as well help him further ruin it. He’s high and thrusting up into you like it’s the last thing he’ll do. Fast,quick.

☆ He definitely gets turned on by the thrill of being caught. Thats it.

☆ KINKY. To list of a few of his kinks ;

Masochism,absolutely loves your nails digging into him,reeling whilst you suck hickeys onto his neck,biting around the area.

Praise,tell this man he’s doing so good for you and he’s cumming on the spot.

Degrading,he loves hearing you call him a coke-whore,slut etc. especially when it’s mixed with praise ; e.g, “My good slut.”

Switch,it doesn’t matter if you’re on top of him telling him how good he’s doing or if he’s on top of you telling his princess how good she’s doing,working her through her orgasm. It doesn’t matter,he will cum just as fast either way.

Orgies, you already know that if he can have an orgy and his beautiful girl is with him,enjoying it with him,he’s more than happy.

Orgasm denial, tell him no and he’ll whine and moan,watching him wriggle underneath you as your hand moves sloppy against his cock. He loves it,though when he’s high don’t expect him to hold back.

EVERYTHING, I couldn’t list every kink he has because I‘d be writing for years. He‘ll definitely try everything once and he’ll most probably like it.

☆ He’s more than happy to come home and smoke whilst lying on your tits. He’s also more than happy to do coke off your tits :3

☆ He’d definitely let you ride his thigh. Watching his pretty girl glide against him messily while you smoke.

☆ He’s never quiet he doesn’t care if he needs to be quiet whilst hiding in the broom closet at work or hiding in the bathroom at a rave,he’s LOUD and he physically can’t be quiet.

[amphibiahawks321]

[In the meeting room, Reagan completely unhinged with a bunch of papers scattered all over near her while using a computer]

[Myc and Gigi walk up to her completely both terrified and impressed]

Myc : ....Okay Reagan what in the actual F#ck, I mean I've seen you almost gone batshit before but this is something else

Gigi : Girl, I've seen you on the brink of killing someone before but this... This is just pure unhinged genius...

Myc : Oh my god just accept that Y/N actually loves your weird, unwashed, disoriented ass... I was expecting crazy, but not Trisha paytas levels of insanity

Gigi : it ain't like you hate his hot ass too

Reagan : statistically speaking, relationships are just a series of chemical reactions in the brain... but for some reason, every time I see him, mine go completely haywire! I need to know why it keeps happening!–...Ow! What the f#ck!

[Myc gave her head a fast slap]

Myc : IT'S CAUSE OF LOVE YOU DUMB BITC—

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sit Next To Me - Masterlist

College AU Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

…Right?

Read on AO3

Chapter 1: To A Good Fucking Semester.

Chapter 2: Wanna See a Magic Trick?

Chapter 3: That’s Actually Very Unreasonable.

[bullet-prooflove]

32. Stayed up just to cross those lines for Jamie Reagen please and thank you!

Tagging: @kmc1989

Jamie doesn’t go home after the sting operation, instead he sits in his car outside the precinct waiting for you to be debriefed because he doesn’t want you going home alone tonight, not after that shit show.

When he sees you leaving the building, a surge of anger rushes through his body. You’re clad in nothing more than the little black dress they ‘arrested’ you in. It’s a New York winter, there’s snow on the ground and the assholes couldn’t even give you a ride or a windbreaker to protect yourself from the elements. When he steps out of his car, he strips off his jacket as he walks towards you.

“Emily.” He says and you look up with that wary expression of yours before he holds open the jacket for you to tuck yourself into.

“Thank you.” You say softly as his fingers fumble with the zipper, drawing it all the way up to your chin.

His thumb chases over the bruising on your cheek, his palm cradling the side of your face as he surveys the damage. It’s going to sting for the next few days, just like the welts on your wrists from the cuffs that were put on too tightly and the defensive marks from where you’d been forced to protect yourself. They hadn’t known they were going up against a trained professional when they came for you. They’d learned that lesson the hard way.

“I’m sorry you ended up being on the wrong side of it tonight.” He tells you, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“That’s the point right?” You remind him. “Prove that the cops in that precinct were shaking down their female arrestees.”

“We didn’t know they were hurting them.” He says softly as he looks into your eyes. “That they’d…”

He trails off then because he doesn’t want you to go back to that place, not tonight.  That’s for tomorrow when the IAB investigation comes into full effect and you’re forced to give your statement about how a Sergent and his patrol officer tried to assault you, how it was the culture in that precinct, to trade sexual favours for lesser charges.

“Can you take me home Jameson?” You ask him, your voice breaking just a little. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Anything you need partner.” He promises as he holds out his arm to help you manoeuvre down the steps in those frighteningly high heels of yours. “Anything you need.”

Love Jamie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[countrymusiclover]

18 - Cooper Baby Video

Part 19

It’s About Time

Tags just ask - @lover-of-books-and-tea @bvbwestfall @bubble-bluee @liesanddreams @bethanymccauley @skeletonontheroad @ashsallyblue2 @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @herondale-lightworm @afraidofshrimp

Sitting on the couch I flipped through the channels we had on the TV. I leaned back on the cossins hearing the back door creak opened with Georgie coming around the corner with his keys and a bag from the grocery store. “I'm pretty sure the lady at the register recognized me cause she sent me a weird look that I was buying these.” 

“Did you get'em like I asked though.” I asked him holding my arms open tired of waiting. 

He reached inside the bag tossing the bag into my hands. “Calm down. I actually bought two bags and ice cream with three different flavors.” 

“Oh yeah.” I moaned, popping some of the food inside the bag into my mouth. 

He listed the flavors sitting down beside me, pulling out the tub of ice cream. “It's chocolate, vanilla and pink.” 

“These are so good.” I mumbled with food in my mouth watching him begin to eat some of the ice cream. 

The back door opened again where we saw Missy coming in carrying her backpack on her shoulders but halted until she saw me and Georgie sitting on the couch. “Y/n, are you eating pickles?” 

“Maybe.” I reached my hand inside the jar. 

She made a confused expression towards me. “But you hate them.” 

“I know.” 

Missy sat her backpack on the ground and joined us in the middle between us. “Why are you eating them if you hate them?” 

“Because I can't stop the cravings!” 

Missy made a face at me realizing what that meant. “Oh my god.  You're pregnant aren't you?” 

“We only slept together one time.” 

Slapping myself in the face I moaned with my face turning red like a tomato with him just blurting that out. “Georgie.” 

“So you really are pregnant.  What's it like?” She asked focusing her whole attention on me. 

Shoving my hand back inside the jar I ate two more pickles gagging at the taste until I swallowed them and they somehow tasted better. “Forcing your body to eat food you hate and making you enjoy them while your brain keeps saying you hate them!” 

“Have you told your parents yet?” His sister asked. 

Lowering my gaze to the pickle jar knowing we needed to tell them and Georgie’s parents before I wasn’t able to hide the fact that I was carrying his baby. “Neither of our parents know.  It’s only you and Connie who know about the baby.” 

“Does that mean I shouldn’t tell the guys?” Georgie brought up our friends. 

“Ashley and Hannah may already know…before I told you at the cabin.” 

He touched my knee gently. “Look I ain’t gonna be mad about them knowing before me.  But we can tell them together.  Heck, they could join our runaway gang.” 

“You’re gonna run away?” Missy asked me. 

Sitting the jar down on the table I remembered the video camera we had bought thinking it would be as good of time as any to film it for us to watch years later. “Let’s talk about something else.  I’ve been reading the instructions on how to film the video. Come on Missy, we could use your help.” 

“Can I wear my princess dress in the video?” She asked with a hopeful tone. 

“Maybe at the end of the video.” 

The three of us got everything set up in the living room with me and my best friend seated down on the couch.  Missy was standing behind the camera stand and gave a thumbs up telling us we were rolling. “Hey baby girl or boy, I’m your dad and that’s your mommy who I love so much.  So please don’t hurt her too much when she has to deliver you.” 

“Georgie!” I scolded covering my face blushing deeply embarrassed by what he had just said. 

He shrugged his shoulders, throwing his hands down in his lap. “What! There’s a movie at the video store that told me about childbirth.” 

“Gross.” Missy gagged holding the camera, pointing it at us. 

Clearing my throat I tucked hair behind my ear trying to push the awakeness of what he had just said away so we could make an appropriate video. “Anyway, Georgie is your daddy and I am your mommy.  We are a little scared to be teen parents but really excited to meet you in nine months. And-“ 

“And I’m your fun Aunt Missy!” Missy suddenly jumped in the middle between the two of us, wrapping her arms around each of us. 

Georgie laughed and I snorted out a laugh getting up and hitting the end recording button. “Yes, she’s your aunt Missy. Baby girl or boy.” 

It was a couple days later when I had come home from school about to take out one of my notebooks to begin my homework.  “Y/n, is there something you want to tell us?” My mothers voice came into the kitchen. 

“Um, school was pretty good.” 

She put her hands on her hips. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” 

“Can I ask what you’re asking about then?” 

My father stomped around the corner shoving a video tape against my chest a little harsher than I expected. “Explain this tape that says you’re pregnant and didn’t think to tell us!” 

“I - I - how did you find this?” I stutter out so taken back in shock. 

My mother throws her hands down at her sides clearly just as frustrated as my father at that moment. “Mrs. Cooper thought this was one of the movies we rented and returned it back to us.  We didn’t remember the name on it so we watched it to find that betrayal on it!” 

“Look you guys, I’m sorry.  I - we were going to tell you.  I just didn’t know how you were going to react and this is what I was afraid of.” 

My father raised his tone asking. “Who’s the father?” 

“It’s Geor“ I cut myself short hearing the front door open and my boyfriend walk inside. 

“Hey, anybody home?” 

Rushing to the living room I knew I had fear written all over my face when I blurted out. “Georgie, you have to go right now.  It really isn’t a good time. So just go before-“ 

“Mr. Cooper, can we talk for a minute?” My father came around the corner. 

Georgie nodded, not understanding my worries. “Of course.  What are we talkin’ about, Mr. L/n?” 

“Tell me that I am lying and that you aren’t the boy who knocked up my seventeen year old daughter.” Georgie gulped, glancing my way finally seeing why I was nearly as white as a ghost.  Because we for sure were so in trouble. 

[bunnist4rz]

BREAKING THE CYCLE; REGAN RIDLEY

synopsis; Reagan, overwhelmed by her work at Cognito and her need for perfection, begins to push away her partner, who notices her burnout. Despite their attempts to reconnect, Reagan’s obsession with control strains their relationship, culminating in an argument where Reagan lashes out. Realizing her mistake too late, Reagan grapples with guilt and reaches out with an apology. The next day, Reagan visits her partner, expressing vulnerability and admitting her fears of imperfection. Her partner reassures her, emphasizing the importance of emotional openness, and together, they decide to work through their struggles. word count; 1.1k content; regan ridley/reader, f!reader, coworker/coworker, set in canon au, angst to fluff, ambivert/introvert a/n; I'm so sleepy right now it's not even funny but I decided to pump this out at 2 am I'm crying this is insane but um yeah pretty fanfiction for my pretty wife I LOVE HER :333

The familiar buzz of Cognito’s control room filled the air as Reagan typed furiously on her console, the harsh glow of her monitor casting an eerie blue light across her face. She’d been consumed by her work for days—maybe weeks now—managing crises, chasing anomalies, and ensuring the shadow government didn’t fall apart. Deadlines loomed as a new project spiraled out of control, and her perfectionism had trapped her in an unrelenting cycle. The scent of stale coffee and static electricity hung in the air, a constant companion to the suffocating pressure she felt.

Across the room, You sat nursing a cold cup of tea. Your usually upbeat demeanor had dimmed over the past few days as you watched your workaholic girlfriend spiral deeper into her work obsession. Her eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, her smile mechanical, and her laughter—the rare instances of it—lacked the warmth it once held. You recognized the signs all too well: she was burning herself out again. But whenever you tried to intervene, she’d wave you off, muttering her favorite refrain, "Just a few more minutes, doll. I’ve got this."

As You looked out the window, the sudden crash of thunder caught your attention. Rain started to splatter against the tall windows of the underground base, a storm brewing above the surface. It felt symbolic, mirroring the tension that had been building between them. Reagan was always so focused on saving the world, but she couldn’t see that her own well-being was crumbling right in front of her.

You stood from your seat, heart pounding, and made your way toward her desk. "Babe, you’re working too hard. You need to step away for a bit," you said softly, trying not to push too hard. But her eyes didn’t leave the screen.

"I’m fine," Reagan replied, her voice void of its usual snark. "Just a little more to do."

Your shoulders slumped. You could hear the exhaustion woven into her words, feel the distance growing between them. You've tried to be patient, understanding, but it was like talking to a wall. You loved how brilliant she was, how fiercely she fought for what she believed in, but lately, she was fighting alone—and it was hurting you both.

"Reagan," You tried again, this time reaching out to touch her hand. She flinched as if your touch had burned her.

"Not now!" Her voice cut through the room like a whip, sharp and cold. Reagan finally looked up at you, and in her gaze, you saw not only frustration but the storm of emotions she had been bottling up. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the soft patter of rain on the glass. You just—stared at her, stunned, and slowly withdrew your hand, stepping back.

Reagan blinked, as if realizing how harshly she’d reacted. "I—I'm sorry," she whispered, but it was too late. Your expression had already shifted, a mixture of hurt and resignation.

"It’s fine," you muttered, but it wasn’t fine, and you both knew it. You turned to leave, feeling the weight of the conversation—or lack of one—settling on your shoulders. You didn’t want to give up on her, but how could you keep reaching out when she refused to let you in?

Reagan watched you leave, her heart sinking as the door hissed shut behind you. She knew she had hurt you. She always knew. But there was this gnawing feeling inside her, an irrational need to stay in control of everything. It wasn’t just the job—it was proving herself to her father, to everyone who had ever doubted her. She felt trapped in this endless loop, unable to stop even when she knew she should. And now, it was costing her the one person who understood her.

The control room felt colder as she gathered her things, stepping out into the rain. The storm aboveground drenched her immediately, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t escape the suffocating guilt that clung to her. It wasn’t the first time her work had come between them, but it was the first time Brett had looked at her with such disappointment.

By the time she reached her apartment, Reagan was soaked, her mind still reeling from the day’s events. She collapsed on the couch, staring at her phone, debating whether or not to call you. What would she even say? That she was sorry? Sorry for pushing you away again?

She left a voicemail instead, her voice trembling. "Look… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just… I don’t know how to stop sometimes." She hung up, staring at the phone, willing it to ring—but it didn’t. The empty silence was all that answered.

Hours passed in a blur. Reagan’s apartment, once a place of comfort, now felt like a prison. She poured herself a drink, but it didn’t ease the ache in her chest. It wasn’t the world-ending crises that kept her awake that night; it was the growing gap between her and the love of her life, a gap she feared might be too wide to cross.

The next morning, Reagan couldn’t take it anymore. She drove to your place, the rain having subsided, leaving the city slick and fresh, but Reagan didn’t feel fresh. She felt like she was on the verge of breaking. When she knocked on your door, she could hear her heartbeat in her ears, each second feeling like an eternity.

When you finally opened the door, your expression was guarded. Your eyes were tired, but there was no anger—only sadness.

"Reagan," you said softly.

"I screwed up," she blurted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "I pushed you away, again, and I shouldn’t have. I just… I don’t know how to do this. How to balance everything and still be… us." Her voice cracked on the last word, and she hated herself for how vulnerable she sounded.

Your expression softened, and you stepped aside, letting her in. "It’s not about you doing everything perfectly," you said as she sat down at your kitchen table. "It’s about you letting me in. We’re a team, Reagan. I care about you, and I just want you to let me help."

Reagan looked down at her hands, wringing them together. "I don’t know how to stop," she admitted. "I’m always so afraid that if I’m not perfect, everything will fall apart."

You reached across the table, gently taking her hands in your own. "You don’t have to be perfect, Reagan. Not with me." Your voice was soft but steady, and it gave her a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in days. "I just need you to be present. To let me in, instead of shutting me out every time things get hard."

Reagan’s eyes welled up, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself feel the weight of her mistakes. "I’m sorry," she whispered. "I’ll try. I’ll try to be better for us."

You gave her a small smile, squeezing her hand gently. "That’s all I ask."

As they sat together in the quiet of your apartment, the storm outside had passed. And though there were still challenges ahead—at Cognito and in their relationship—for the first time, Reagan felt like they could weather them together.