#anyway so wet labs >>>>>

[romanticize-until-you-drop]

2024-09-02

Did a lot of lab work this week!

I feel like I’m still stuck in summer mode, and I have been hardcore procrastinating all weekend. But hopefully I’ll get myself sorted today because I have a lot of stuff to do!

[tkbrokkoli]

been scrubbing these damn shoes w the white soles for eternity

[wethecelestial]

having to take a lap around the house to calm down after a virtual meeting with my PI. call that getting the ZOOMies

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕 𝙰𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 🍎

My personal headcanons for Boyfriend!Caleb after what I've seen and read about his character so far. A/N: All my ride or die Caleb girlies if you disagree with anything on this list im not going to argue with you please don't take my word as law. I love y'all dont fight me 💋 feel free to add more in the replies ‼️MDNI‼️ + cw: quick mention of cnc & primal play

[SFW]

wants to be in your skin wrapped around your nervous system and nestled in the wrinkles of your brain ; if this man could glue you to him he would

remembers everything that happened to him and mc when they were lab rats as kids which is probably where his mental health started rapidly declining

Cuddles ! ; he’ll also cuddle you while youre asleep constantly ; doesn’t matter if you’re in his bed, the guest bed or your bed he’ll climb right in and snuggle up

leaves you bowls/plates of fresh fruit and a glass of water on your nightstand

doing backflips if you tell him he can wash your hair for you ; the longer it takes the better

monitors your social media and online presence “You shouldn't post that no one needs to see you naked” “Im wearing a bikini Caleb” “Basically naked”

big on taking photos he wants as many photos together as possible

movie nights and date nights are his shit he’ll alway be down for that ; if you two have a show you watch together he is genuinely hurt if you watch an episode without him

holds your hand even when you don’t want him to ; would quite literally use his evol to hold your hand in place

if you’re sick he's at your bedside 24/7 with medication and home cooked remedies ; will spoon feed you if you let him

uses his body as a wall in large crowds to keep people from bumping into you

will beat the brakes off of anyone who dares to even look at you sideways and when you ask him what he did he’ll lie and smile in your face

PINKY PROMISES ARE LAW

will take you everywhere with him and will also follow you anywhere ; he’d stand guard outside of the bathroom stall if he could

although he does have some bolts rattling around (because they’re not loose they’re fully free) he will pamper the hell out of you ; he’s running you a bath, rubbing your feet and cooking dinner so you have a relaxed night and warm meal

when you do help him cook he’ll stand behind you and cover your hand with his while he guides your hand with the knife

will hold anything you hand him while he’s on the phone

has an entire closet of all the gifts you’ve ever given him

the type to close the door and immediately lock it if you’re in a room alone with him

hates to argue with you ; he’ll do it, but he regrets it afterwards apologizes profusely later with your favorites foods, sweets, treats and things

has to get a kiss before he leaves ; he’s not leaving without it

the type to wrap your arms around his neck when he goes in for a kiss

loves caging you between his arms and his body at any given chance

has to be touching you in some kind of way

the type to tuck you in every night

loves to give you massages because he loves touching you

[NSFW]

needs you to use your words “tell me how you want it” “don’t cover your mouth” “tell me you missed me” “how much?” “right there or right here? Tell me” “open your mouth” “how much do you love me?” “are you all mine? say it”

records your moans so he can listen to them later

pretty panty lover ; buys you lots of them ; loves to have you model them and you’re getting dicked down if you’re walking around the house in them

takes you anyway he can ; favorite position? ALL OF EM mans brain turns to mush just having his hand on you ; a dom that will punish you, but gives stellar aftercare

loves to tease you by getting you wet and just rubbing his tip over the fabric ; slides the panties to the side instead of taking them off because he loves to see them on you

a vocal moaner and a yapper when he nuts ; nuts inside every time makes him feel like he’s claiming you

Intentionally fails no nut November and says “we’ll try again tomorrow” turns you every way but loose for the entire month

massages your thighs and coochie so he can watch his cum drip out of you

a slurper and moaner when he eats it ; eats the pussy and the ass

puts the colonel hat on you

100% into cnc & somnophilia I will not argue with anyone about this ; not a fan of dacryphilia he hates to see you cry

you have to have a safe word because he gets pussydrunk extremely easily

panty stealer ; keeps a pair in his pocket when he goes to work ; clean or dirty doesn’t matter to him

into primal play would chase you through the woods in the Rina Kent - God of War mask and rearrange your guts right there with pleasure

would get jealous of your vibrator/dildo

[lustagel]

⊹ fuckin’ amateurs rick sanchez, smut

brief. feeding his god complex

rick fills his free time with inventions and fucking his sweet girlfriend—his sweetheart who laughs at all his stupid jokes, patiently listens to his endless rants, cringes whenever he makes a joke about their sex life around his family and adores his cranky moods cause she likes to be fucked silly while he goes on about his day.

“and oh, baby—the way i shot their heads off,” he drones on, barely paying attention to his own words as he watches your wetness cling to his pubs. he always does this, so consumed in the way your pussy is pulling him in, your hole so sloppy and wet that it’s damn near disgusting, that he barely remembers what he talked about after. you’re no better than him with how foggy your brain gets. he hears you hiccup, the soft sound snapping his focus back to you.

“are you uurrp listening?” he slurs, narrowing his eyes at you, the smugness in his voice impossible to ignore. it takes you a moment—almost too long—to nod, your breath shaky as you cling onto his lab coat. but he’d put up such a stubborn fight that you finally let him win. it doesn’t help that last time, he refused to wash the damn thing for weeks, claiming it smelled like you (not like he does anyway), and he wasn’t ready to lose that like clingy dog and its favorite toy.

“good,” he mutters, a grin tugging at his lips. “’cause I’ve got some news that’ll blow your tiny little mind.”

you hate this part—hate how he always demands a reaction to every word, every sound he makes, even when he’s completely wrecking you. it’s not like you can form coherent thoughts when he’s like this, but that doesn’t stop him. no, he thrives on the power trip, on making sure you’re there for every word he spits out. and when you tell him to tone it down, to maybe not be so loud for once, he just sneers, his voice dripping with arrogance. “i can do whatever the hell i want, babe. i’m rick fucking uurrp sanchez. let ’em hear.”

and you let him. you always let him because he’s got you wrapped around his finger, and he knows it. besides, if you don’t, he’ll draw this out for as long as it takes, leaving you dangling just out of reach. “mm, w-what is it?” you stammer, barely able to form the words. he grins, pushing himself closer, deeper, so you can feel every word reverberate through you.

"y'know, word on the cosmic grapevine is you've got the best uurrp pussy in every universe—at least, that's what all the other ricks won't stop runnin' their mouths about." he chuckles, the sound rough and guttural, before clearing his throat, his tone dropping lower. his hips move in deeper, slower rolls, and your eyes follow suit, fluttering back as he pulls every bit of control from you.

“but they don’t know what the real one feels like, do they?” his teeth grind slightly as he mutters under his breath, “amateurs.” you almost laugh at how ridiculous it is—him getting jealous over his own clones—but the thought barely takes root before his hips snap into yours, stealing the breath from your lungs.

through glossy eyes, you look at him, your voice trembling, thick with need as you reply, “no, no—you’re my god, rick.” you know it's what he loves to hear most, no matter the situation.

he looks back at you with bloodshot ones, his smirk widening as his ego swells with every shaky word you manage. “that’s right,” he huffs, his voice dripping his smugness. “means something coming from you, sweetheart. don’t let it go to your head.”

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Do the task force genuinely care about free use medic reader or do they just use her for sex? Genuine question! I just found your account so i’m kinda stalking all your posts lol, love your writing!

thank you!!

it's complicated :)

...

79 / 1.1k / more free use medic reader

You strip off your heavy equipment—medical supply packs, a comm radio, extra ammo for the boys—and stretch your tired body with a groan. Tough mission. Holed up in an old laboratory for hours until extraction arrives. You know what that means.

You sit down on a dented countertop, spread your legs, and loosen your collar. “Who’s first?”

Soap, Gaz, and Ghost exchange glances. They’ve stripped off their visored helmets, but they’re still otherwise armored in urban camouflage. Soap steps forward to crowd you in anyway. Sweat and oil are smeared across his grin.

“Don’t know how you do it, love,” Ghost says. He wedges the knuckles of one broad hand into his lower back like he’s trying to pop something back into place. A click echoes from his spine and he muffles a groan. “Tough mission. Might be too tired.” That’s a lie.

Soap seems to think so, too. He grabs your legs under each knee and pulls you to rest on the edge of the table. “Mission’s only tough if I don’t get my dick wet.”

Gaz lets out a dismissive huff and looks at Ghost. “Want to take a look around the lab while MacTavish drools all over himself?”

Ghost grunts noncommittally, flipping a serrated knife and catching the tip in his fingers as he scans the room and sees a camera in one corner.

You ignore Gaz. You know jealousy when you hear it, and he tries to play his off by being a snarky ass. It’s even more pronounced when Price isn’t around to keep everyone accountable—like right now. It’s risky to offer your body up when the boys are wired with adrenaline and the Captain’s busy with other things. But you take your job seriously.

“Well, then.” You loosen the straps on Soap’s pack harness until he lets it fall off his shoulders and thump to the floor behind his bootheels. “That’s what you pay me for—keeping morale high.”

Soap’s grin widens. His gloved palm rests on the metal countertop next to your hip. “Aye, but your morale’s my fuckin’ specialty.”

Ghost’s gaze slides to you as you and Soap begin stripping you of your fatigues. Soap doesn’t bother waiting until you’re meaningfully exposed—as soon as he sees your bare shoulder, he stoops down to maul at the skin there like a rottweiler with the mind of an overeager high school boy. You’re left to work around his roaming hands and mouth to work yourself free of your clothes. His distraction, as always, makes your job more difficult.

Gaz watches shamelessly, and Ghost rubs his chin as he observes. “Someone oughta check the security feeds, make sure nobody’s watchin’.” Nobody moves to check jack shit.

You manage to unbutton your coat and wrest one arm free. When you shift, though, a sudden pain makes you hiss. You slip your fingers into the thin fabric of your undershirt and up to your ribs. They come out wet with blood. “Ah, fuck.”

Soap’s grin dies. His hand shoots out and grips your wrist, shoving the bloodied fingers back to your ribs to staunch the flow. “The fuck you think you’re doing, bleedin’ without permission?” His voice is a growl, but the way he fumbles for the supply pouches on his belt betrays him.

Gaz—who happens to function as a secondary medic if something happens to you—is there instantly. He pulls Soap’s shoulder hard, forcing him back a step, and peels your undershirt back with a steady hand. He prods the wound. His gloves smear red. “That’s no good,” he mutters. His thumb brushes over unbroken skin beside the gash. “All this pretty skin wasted if you croak before we get our share.”

“Quit eye-fucking the injury and stitch her up,” Ghost says.

Your breath hitches when Gaz’s fingers linger too low. Soap’s jaw locks. “Nobody’s allowed to croak this close to mission’s end, Garrick. Either get your ass in gear to stop the bleedin’ or I fry the hole shut myself.”

“Boys, please, one at a time.” You try to huff a laugh, but it comes out as a pained groan. Never one at a time with them. Your vision flickers. If you weren’t seated, you're sure your legs would be giving out right about now.

Gaz slots his still-armored knee between your legs, steadies your drifting frame with one hand, and tears an injector pack open with his teeth.

“Hold still.”

The needle jams into your thigh. Stims, maybe amphetamines. Hard to focus when he’s already rucking up your bloodied tank top to fully expose the torn flesh below.

The clicking shake of an antiseptic spray bottle makes you tense a half-second before he sprays the godawful mist all over your wound. Your body pulls back blindly to escape the burn, but with Gaz’s grip keeping you in place, your back hits the table and then arches up. A choked scream pushes up your throat. Ghost clamps his hand over your mouth to muffle the sound.

He leans in. “You’ll bring every tango in a klick radius down on us. Shut. It.”

He knows better than any of them how much that spray burns on an open wound.

Without looking away from you, he issues a firm order to Gaz in his lieutenant voice. “Pack the wound.”

“Rog’.”

Gaz takes gauze from your pack and shoves it against and into the gash. You let out another cry against Ghost’s hand, which clamps down tighter around your mouth until your breath runs out and turns the scream into a rasp. Then he keeps it there still until you go limp.

Numbness from the injection—fuck yes, painkillers—finally flood out the adrenaline in your blood. Your vision shutters again. “God, that’s good.”

Ghost’s gaze flicks down to the way your chest heaves under your torn tank top. “Ain’t cut out for field work. I keep saying it.”

Soap shoulders his way back between your legs. He spreads them wider and leans over your limp, blissed-out body on the table. He weaves his fingers through your hair, tugs your head back, taps your cheek until your eyes refocus on him. “Wakey wakey, sunshine,” he murmurs, eyes already traveling back down your body. “You’ve still got a job to do, and you don’t get to nap till we’re done.”

...

more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / more free use medic / masterlist

[em1i2a3]

Would you ever consider a scenario where Bob has a nightmare about losing reader? Perhaps due to the Void overpowering her, in the dream it gets to be too much for her, etc?

Big Shot

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader!

Summary: Bob has been having nightmares about losing you to The Void.

Warnings: Horror Imagery, Nightmares involving The Void (nuff said I think…), Hurt/Comfort, Reader has been injured before by The Void (it is referenced, they have a scar on their arm.), Angst

Author’s Note: I love nightmare sequences so much, and I enjoy writing them for The Void especially…Look at the dude he’s a little mean boi lol. Anyways! Hope you enjoy <3, thank you for the request Anon! I hope it meets the request,

Word Count: 3,801

Bob knew it was a dream, but that never mattered to him, because all of it felt too real to him.

The air was thick and wet–soaked in static, the kind that you feel tingling in your bones before a thunderstorm, or before lightning strikes. Like ozone laced with rot. It filled Bob’s lungs with something sharp and metallic–like he was inhaling old blood.

The sky was wrong–a vast dome of colorless space that pressed down into the environment around him, there was no horizon, no sun, and no stars, it was nothingness. The world around him looked like something built from the bones of his worst memories–deformed and stitched together into something cruel. His childhood home with broken dishes scattered across the floor and old food that had long since dried into the wooden panels of the walls. The lab that he had woken up in, the thing that created who he was today. The car crash that turned him into an addict…It made him ill.

And in the center of it all…Was you. Barefoot, standing amid the rubble of his worst memories and shameful past. You were breathing heavily, shoulder rising and falling in sharp panicked jerks, like you were in pain, or something was trying to crawl out of you.

“Bob,” Your voice was paper-thin, raw, and barely audible , “I-I don’t feel right.” Your hands trembled at your sides, and your knees threatened to buckle. And all Bob could do was run towards you.

But the ground betrayed him. It pulsed–as if it was alive beneath his feet–then liquified into sludge. His feet sank, and he was dragged down by a type of force he couldn’t see. It was like moving through molasses laced with broken glass. He growled and pushed harder, even through the pain that began to erupt through his legs.

You reached out, your hands shaking.

And then it began…

It started with one drop from your nose, thick and impossibly black. It wasn’t blood, it wasn’t even close to anything that he had seen before. It hit the fractured concrete beneath your feet and hissed, releasing a wisp of smoke that curled around you. The second drop came from your tear ducts, slipping down your cheeks and painting your skin, before dripping from the corners of your mouth.

Then your spine arched, and you let out a sharp, choking sound–like you had swallowed something wrong and couldn’t breathe through it. And suddenly, the blackness was everywhere. It poured from your nose, your mouth, your eyes. Your skin began to slowly split in hairline fractures and those too wept the all too familiar vantablack that The Void wore like a suit. It bubbled beneath your flesh like it had roots.

And all Bob could do was scream your name.

You dropped to your knees, hands bracing against the ruined ground, grunting as if you were trying to fight it. But the darkness kept coming, like possession.

You opened your mouth to cry out again, but your voice had been hollowed, and what came out was not you.

”Help me–“ It wasn’t your voice…It was his. It was The Void.

The sound had twisted as it left your throat–like it passed through sheet metal, then bone, then something inhuman, extraterrestrial. Bob’s stomach lurched as your skin went glossy, black veins racing up your arms like wildfire. The ink spread across your body like paint being poured over a monument. The whites of your eyes turned black–your pupils being eaten away by a light, and the colour of your lips leached away. The shape of your face–the one that he had kissed countless times–became distorted, all of your features ceasing to exist

You weren’t just fading away in front of him. You were being rewritten. He saw the darkness crawl over your shoulder, watching it curl like smoke around your bicep.

Right over the jagged scars that looked like chemical burns if you glanced at it, but when you looked closer, they resembled claw marks…It was the one The Void had left behind.

He’d hurt you before–by not being fast enough, by not being strong enough to protect you from the horrors that lived inside him. Even with the serum that ran through his bloodstream–the one that gave him the mantle of being the world's saviour–he couldn’t even protect the one thing that mattered to him.

The blackness wrapped itself around that mark like a crown, displaying it like an award.

”STOP!” Bob shouted, voice breaking as he lunged toward you–arms outstretched, his hands inches from yours, he could’ve sworn he touched the tips of your fingers.

Then…Something took you.

A force slammed into your chest, and you were ripped backwards through the air, your body snapped with the velocity, limbs flailing, as a strangled noise escaped your throat before you were swallowed by the darkness of the horizon.

“N-NO. NO, PLEASE–BRING H-HER BACK!” Bob begged, his hands clawing at the ground beneath him, palms stained with blood, eyes wide and frantic and wet.

“You think…You can protect her from me?” The voice slithered in from every direction, burrowing into his brain like a parasite. Bob could feel his throat closing at the sinister undertone, the way The Void crept up and invaded all his senses.

“You think nine months of good behaviour makes you human? That you get to play house with Y/N, and sit beside her like you’re not a ticking time bomb.” The ground around him began to peel open like flesh, as it began to pulse beneath his palms.

”You think keeping your hands to yourself is enough to keep me caged?” Black tendrils coiled through the cracks in the cement like smoke made solid, brushing up Bob’s arms, and wrapping around his wrists like rope.

”I scrape the walls of your skull, Bob. I breathe through your lungs when you sleep. I taste the scent of her hair when she kisses your cheek…You’re a fucking vessel. A small, puny little host, with whom I despise.” Bob pulled against the restraints, but the tendrils only tightened, and squeezed until he lost all feeling in his hands.

“One day, I’ll crack you open like a fucking shell, and I’ll take her again–properly this time. I’ll wear her…And I’ll show her what you really are.” Then your scream surrounded him from every angle in his brain, and the world exploded into total darkness.

——————

Bob woke like he had been hurled from a skyscraper. His body snapped upward with the force of it, a ragged breath tearing through his lungs and escaping his throat, like he hit the ground and shattered on impact. His heart was thundering against his ribcage–wild, and sickeningly fast, like it wasn’t beating but vibrating instead–it was as if it was trying to bust out of his body. Every inch of his skin was soaked with sweat, clinging to the warm sheets like it was gluing him to the fabric. He tried to take in a deep breath, but it only sounded like a choked gasp.

He closed his eyes tightly, clenching his jaw, attempting to reorient himself to the space around him. The room was still, but it felt far away and distant. The echo of your scream vibrated through his body like an aftershock that crawled up his spine, and gripped the base of his skull with invisible fingers. The dream was clinging to him–the shadows, the heat, the visceral image of you being swallowed whole by the darkness…By his darkness.

Bob tried to breathe, pulling air through his nose, slow and shallow, before forcing it out through trembling lips, you had taught him how to breathe through the burning in his chest, he remembered your hands on his cheeks, easing him and whispering he was going to be okay, how you told him to breathe. It took a few ragged inhales to really get things under control. But once he did, he finally pried his eyes open.

The moonlight bled gently through the sheer white curtains, soft and silvery, casting faint striations of light across the oak floor and the edge of the bed frame. It shifted slightly with the movement of the fabric–swaying like water, refracted in the breeze that floated in through the cracked window. It crested over the bare skin of his chest, cooling the heat that bloomed beneath it.

Bob took a deep breath and let it fill his lungs slowly, as if the act alone might stitch the torn edges of his nerves back together. The cool air slid down his throat like smoke, thin and quiet, and he swallowed thickly as he finally leaned forward to sit upright against the headboard. The movement made his spine crack, subtle and sharp, and the room shifted faintly around him, like it too was trying to settle back into place after the dream tore through it. The wood was cool against his back, but it gave him a bit of a jolt of reality, tethering him to the waking world.

He dragged both palms down his face. They were damp with sweat, slick with the remnants of adrenaline, and they left a faint sheen across the bridge of his nose and the curve of his jaw. His fingers pressed hard against his cheekbones, as if he could scrub away the weight of what he had seen in the dream–and everything he had felt.

Only once he settled himself, and the throbbing in his throat dulled to something less intrusive, did he finally turn his head.

You were there, right where he left you, right where he had kissed you goodnight before turning over for the evening. You were curled on your side, facing him like you always did.

Even when he fell asleep with his back to you–when the weight of the day was too much–he’d always wake to find you like this, turned toward him. Sometimes you’d rest a hand on his shoulder, sometimes your forehead would just barely touch his spine. Even in the narrowest of safehouse cots or the wide expanse of his or your bed, you always had a tendency to find your way to face him. Because your body refused to rest unless it could keep him in sight.

Tonight was no different. One of your hands was tucked beneath the pillow, the other was loosely fanned across the mattress between you. You looked relaxed–your brows were unfurrowed, your lips were slightly parted, and your breaths were slow and steady like waves hitting shore. Even in sleep, you were holding him in place, like your presence was an anvil tied to reality, keeping him exactly where he needed to be.

Bob’s gaze drifted down your arm, to the scar on your bicep. The light from the moon made it glint faintly–almost like glass catching a glimmer of sun before it dulled again. In the dark it looked soft, barely there, but he knew better. He knew what it was, and he knew what it represented.The skin along your bicep was uneven, and jagged, reflecting a shape of something that didn’t belong in this world. It wasn’t from a knife or shrapnel, not chemical burns or fire. The edges curved and twisted unnaturally, like the aftermath of being touched by something sentient and cruel–like a signature carved by a god-shaped wound who should’ve bared no name. Up close, the lines were too precise to be accidental, and too deep to be merciful–like something had reached into you and pulled out what it could before leaving its mark behind.

You had told him what happened that day–but only after he asked, again and again, his voice quiet, almost ashamed, like he was afraid of what the answer might be. Even then, you never shared the worst of it. You spared him the details, which in turn spared yourself in reliving what happened, you only ever said “He hurt me. I was stupid to go to Sentry when they ran. But I couldn’t leave you.”

Still, Bob had pieced the rest together. In the quiet hours. In the long stretches of isolation where his own thoughts were louder than any team comms. The memory of that moment was a blur in his mind, but some things stuck: the discussion Sentry had with Val, the way he got in her face and held her neck, and the red that invaded his vision suddenly when he was about to snap.

You hadn’t left. You’d been in the Watch Tower when Val issued the kill switch. You had somehow slipped through the cracks and stayed behind as the rest of the team hauled themselves off and made their escape. He didn’t remember seeing you crawl to him afterward. Didn’t remember the way you dropped to your knees, still bleeding, hands shaking as you pulled his lifeless body onto your lap. Didn’t know that you’d been crying, or that you’d run your hand through his hair and whispered his name over and over like it could bring him back. But you told him later, in pieces. In echoes. Always downplayed. Always with a sad little smile, like it was just something you had to live with.

Because it was still Bob. Regardless of everything he had done to you and the team. Regardless of the serum, or the suit, or the shimmering gold that lit his body like a flare before everything spiraled into ruin. You’d seen him in there. And that was what brought you to him, even when you should have run.

But the real horror hadn’t started until after Val was gone. When you were holding him–your hand on his cheek, your voice tight with panic, begging him to wake up–that’s when it happened. That’s when the darkness crept in from every direction. When the air collapsed inward and The Void came for you.

He still felt sick about it, and he still had nights like this, where his throat was raw and his heart thundered with the weight of guilt he couldn’t carry. Because even though you forgave him–even though you loved him now, and had told him so in your own careful, honest way–he couldn’t forget. Couldn’t unsee that scar. Couldn’t pretend it wasn’t a brand. A warning carved into your skin because of him.

His hand trembled slightly as he reached out.

He didn’t think. He didn’t even breathe. Just let his fingers hover above your bicep, then slowly trace the edge of the scars. He didn’t put enough pressure to wake you–but it was just enough to feel it. It was warm, the skin soft, raised faintly beneath his touch. The lines still felt unnatural beneath his fingertips, like a language written in agony.

He traced one of the curves near the top, his brow knitting so tightly it made his forehead ache. He hadn’t even realized how furrowed his expression had become–how tightly his jaw had locked in place–until your eyes fluttered open.

You slowly blinked in the dark, letting your eyes adjust to the moonlit room, as your gaze settled on him immediately.

“Bob?” Your voice was laced with tiredness. He pulled his hand back like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, curling it against his chest. But not fast enough. You saw it–the guilt in his eyes, the way his lips were slightly parted, how his chest barely moved with each breath. You saw how his brows were drawn together like he was in pain. His face was still flushed, his cheeks damp from sweat, and his expression had the soft, trembling look of someone who had just woken from the edge of hell. “You okay?”

You shifted slowly, the sheets rustling in the quiet as you sat up beside him. The blanket slipped slightly before you gathered it against your chest, holding it loosely across your bare torso. The moonlight skimmed the slope of your shoulder, kissed the high points of your collarbone, painted you in soft, silvery light–like something divine beside him, real in a way his nightmares never were.

Your eyes never left his face.

“Bob?” You asked again, a little clearer now, your voice rough from sleep but laced with concern. He couldn’t look at you, he averted his gaze, glancing off to the side of the room.

“I-I had another nightmare,” He finally admitted, his voice quiet and flat. Almost lifeless. “It was…B-Bad.” You didn’t ask him to explain. You didn’t need to. Instead, you reached for him–your hand immediately finding the tense muscles between his shoulder blades. You began to rub in slow, gentle circles. Soothing him the only way you knew how. Your thumb pressed in just enough to ease the tightness from his posture, watching as he took a slow deep breath in. Then you leaned toward him, brushing a soft kiss to the curve of his shoulder, just beneath the faint shimmer of sweat that still clung to his skin.

“It was just a dream, Bob,” You whispered against him, your breath hot and sticky “It’s over.” He shook his head, his whole body shuddering with the effort of it.

”…I always think I-I’m going to hurt you again.” His voice cracked, shaking with the admission. For a moment you just looked at him–at the man you loved, coming apart in the dark, sitting rigid in your shared bed like he didn’t believe he should be in it. His shoulders were hunched, like he was trying to fold in on himself, to disappear. His hands trembled where they sat in his lap. His jaw twitched as he fought the tears welling in his eyes. You sighed softly, not from frustration–but from something heavy and aching, like your own chest couldn’t hold the grief that had just spilled out of him.

”Bob…” You breathed, reaching out towards him slowly. Your fingers curled along his jaw, as you turned his head, slowly, until he met your gaze. His eyes were glassy. Haunted.

And you didn’t miss a beat.

”I know he would never do that again,” You said quietly. “No matter what he says in your dreams, it’s just an empty threat. That’s all it’s ever been.” Bob’s eyes flickered, and a tear slipped down one cheek before he could stop it.

“I haven’t seen him since that day,” You continued, voice steady. “Not once. Not even a flicker. He hasn’t come close. Do you know what that tells me?” He sniffled, watching you lean closer to him.

“That tells me you keep him away. Every hour. Every day. And every night you hold me and fall asleep beside me and keep him buried…You’ve done all of that for me…You. Not anyone else.” Bob’s bottom lip trembled slightly. His throat worked around a soundless sob. You pressed your forehead against his, breathing him in, “I’m not afraid of him, Bob…And You shouldn’t be either.” He closed his eyes at that–tight, like it hurt to hear–and another tear tracked slowly down his face. He turned into your hand, seeking it like a lifeline, and you held him there, thumb sweeping gently across his cheek, catching the tears before they could fall any farther.

“I-I love you Y/N…” He stuttered out, and your eyes softened even further. You leaned in and kissed him. Softly. Slowly. Like sealing a promise with your mouth. Your hand never left his face as your lips met his, warm and trembling and laced with emotion. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t meant to fix anything. It was just meant to be–to exist in the aftermath of the storm still shaking through his bones. When you pulled back, your thumb brushed under his eye again, wiping the fresh tear away. Your voice was soft, tender, full of the kind of warmth that made Bob’s ribs ache.

“I love you too,” You whispered. “So so much.” You added, pushing his mane of light brown hair off his sweaty forehead. His eyes fluttered shut, like he was trying to absorb it. Like if he could just hold that moment inside him long enough, it might quiet the thunder in his chest.

You kissed his temple next, a featherlight press of your lips against damp skin. “Now lay down with me,” You murmured, gently coaxing him as you slid your hand from his cheek to his shoulder. “And let me hold you till you fall asleep again.” Bob hesitated only for a breath, then nodded, slow and silent.

He shifted down with you, easing into the mattress like he didn’t trust it to hold him–but you held him first. You let him come to you, his long arms sliding around your waist, wrapping you up as though you were the only thing in the world that could ground him. He curled into your side, burying his face gently against your chest, nose brushing just below your collarbone. You tugged the blanket back over both of you, tucking it up around his back, and he melted there like a man completely unmade.

His breath hitched once against your skin. Then again.

And you felt it–warm, quiet tears, soaking slowly into your skin as he clung to you like your body was the only safe place left in the world.

Your fingers found their rhythm against his back. Slow, comforting strokes. You traced shapes between the dips of his shoulder blades, circles and stars and invisible words he didn’t need to hear out loud to understand. Every time his breath trembled, you smoothed your hand lower, across the curve of his spine, whispering nothing, only silence and safety.

He didn’t speak again, he didn’t need to.

He just held on tighter.

And eventually, his breathing slowed and his body softened against yours. The tension in his muscles ebbed out inch by inch as sleep crept up behind his grief and cradled him the way you did–with patience, with forgiveness, and with a love that refused to be shaken by shadows.

You kept tracing lines against his back long after his tears stopped.

And even longer after his breathing evened out.

Because you knew–this was how you kept The Void at bay.

Not with strength.

But with love.

[sadesluvr]

FEEL. — mickey 17

somewhat inspired by @darkoies doctor c.ai! (NSFW)

w/c: 2.3K

As he felt his body temperature slowly begin to drop, Mickey knew that he’d been cloned again.  

He’d grown to accept that there was nothing like climatising to the perfect 20°C of the lab, sometimes laying there for hours with nothing but a sheet to cover his modesty – only if he’d been lucky enough to be attended to that quickly. Mickey seemed to be reborn in a lab full of people, yet he was always alone. 

Blinking, he fought to adjust himself to the sterile curing lights, expecting to be faced with Dorothy or one of the other scientists. Instead, he was met with warmth; rounder, fuller features staring down at him with a curious look and a gentle smile. He'd certainly never seen you before.

“...Vitals are surprisingly low,” the voice spoke. “Is this normal?” 

Instinctively Mickey opened his mouth to answer, clamping it shut once he realised you weren’t speaking to him, but a fellow doctor across the lab. He hoped you hadn’t noticed. He felt a bit silly. 

“I’m just going to put this in, ok? It’s a small chip to help us track your endocrine system, hormones, endorphins – those kinds of things. You shouldn’t feel a thing, it’s virtually weightless.” You spoke again, eyes occasionally making contact as you glanced down to reassure him, but more focused on dabbing at his skin with a wipe.

Mickey took a short breath, having not particularly grown accustomed to needles throughout any of his seventeen iterations. 

“Uh-huh... Why do I -” 

“All done.” You grinned, withdrawing the tool with a smile.

He couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed, selfishly wishing a flare up of some kind, anything that could get him to spend just a few more minutes longer with you. Anything was better than a meaningless afternoon within the four walls of his room. Pursing his lips, he pushed himself to sit upright, allowing for him to get a better view of you.  

“How do you feel?”  

“Fine...” he began, wringing his hands. “Though in my position I’ve learned that’s not much.” 

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to be an Expendable. I admire your bravery,” you began, leaning in, your faces a few centimetres apart. “Chin up.” 

Goosebumps peppered his skin as he felt your breath on his cheek, the warmth of your hands felt even through your plastic gloves as you held his face in place, running a torch over his eyes. 

“It’s not all bad,” he chuckled nervously. “I get to keep my memories.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. There are definitely a few things I’d like to forget...” 

“Like what?” he questioned, hoping that you wouldn't find his prying weird. He’d never get this far with any other doctor on the team. 

“Bad hairstyles for one,” you said with a soft sigh, stepping away from the man to enter something into a computer. "My entire college years, amongst other things.” 

“I bet they weren’t that bad,” he shrugged, brushing a wet, messy strand of his mousy brown hair from his eyes. “Nice girls like you definitely had a better time than me.” 

The statement seemed to illicit a smile.  

“Well,” you huffed as you scribbled something down on a clipboard. “Nice girls tend to finish last. That’s why I’m here. Other than the pay, being a doctor on Earth is pretty shit.” 

Mickey grinned, and this time let out a genuine, audible laugh, so unrestrained that his voice broke in the process. You hummed in amusement, presumably at the fact that the man had taken such glee in an offhand comment, before going back to your job and listing some rather important things about the tests being run.  

By that point Mickey had naturally zoned out, having heard all the doctors’ spiel before. What did it matter if hypertension could cause blackouts, heart attacks or death – he would just be reprinted anyway. In a fucked-up way, nothing really mattered... In what he thought would’ve been basic empathy, he hoped you could see him for who he was - less of a crash dummy and more of a human.  

- 

Marshall was fuming.

And by that nature, the whole lab was pissed off with you. 

The past few experiments had been complete failures – not due to misguided hypothesises, but because Mickey was a shitty lab rat. If you could even call him that.  

Over the few weeks that 17 had been cloned, nothing had gone to plan. Half the time, he’d passed out before research could begin, or hadn’t even been deemed fit to work. You’d only seen him in passing, being wheeled about on a table or through plexiglass – but you knew something was wrong…the numbers told you so. 

It was difficult. On Earth there were too many patients for you to really care about them in the way your cared for Mickey, but reading his past files and listening here-say from the other workers was enough to sympathise with him. From what Dorothy had told you, his past iterations had never been so stubborn, which was why it didn’t make sense for him to act up now. 

Arkady thought it to be a fault in the tech, that somehow he’d reprinted wrong…but you knew better.  

It was obvious he’d grown fond of you. You’d caught him staring multiple times, a distant smile dotted across his face as he carved out your visage through the haze of the testing room. Sometimes, he’d even wave. Discreetly, you did back. 

To be fair, you liked him too.

Naturally, it made sense for you to ‘deal’ with him. You clutched your clipboard to your chest as you walked down the empty corridors to a distant room, curtly waving away the guards as you entered. 

The brown haired man perked up, and if you weren’t facing expulsion – or death – from Marshall himself then you would’ve made a quip about it. 

“Oh - I, uh...They just shoved me in here, I have no idea what’s this all about —“ Mickey stammered, eyes glancing around the room frantically as if to search for a source of reason himself. You watched as he shrunk in on himself, seemingly realising from your crossed arms and pursed lips that you weren’t in a generous mood. 

“You shouldn’t be surprised. You haven’t been eating as much. Or sleeping,” you began, shoes tapping against the floor as you strolled towards him. He seemed to be trying (and failing) to divert his gaze from you, eyes as wide and watery as ever, and it occurred to you that it felt like a mean teacher punishing a schoolboy. “They wanted to throw you in the cell, but I convinced them to lend you to me under the name of science.” 

He nodded shyly and peered up at you from his bangs. 

“Our research is compromised if you go into a mission on two hours of sleep and low blood sugar. Then we look bad, and Marshall blows his gasket.” 

Mickey itched uncomfortably, contemplating something before the edges of his lips curved up into a small, jaunty smile. “...Isn’t there some kind of shot for that?” 

“That isn’t the point, Mickey,” you chided, ignoring his silly attempt at a joke. “Not everything can be fixed by a drug. We may be miles away from Earth, but most things are still down to basic biology. You’re still human.” 

The man sighed and cast his gaze to the floor, so much so that you couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you into trouble with Marshall. If you let me out of here, I’ll tell him it’s my fault.” 

You fought to hold back a small smile. Here he was, essentially a complete stranger – a literal lab experiment - and yet was ready to take a bullet for you. It baffled you as to why nobody else saw the gentleness of humanity in Mickey – probably because no one was willing to give him a chance. Being labelled ‘Expendable’ would do that, all too ironic that he was the most important on the ship. To the whole regime, really.  

“There’s no need to do that...” you hummed. “I’m just annoyed I’ve overlooked things.” 

“…Like?” 

“Happiness, for one,” you began, slowly striding around the room to place your clipboard on a small table. “And attention. We tend to forget that we need it.” 

Mickey swayed his head, seemingly taking in what you were saying as he watched you like a hawk. As if his body had been pulled taught with a string, his back visibly straightened as you stopped in-front of him, your shins touching the tips of his thigh. Swallowing, he angled his head to look up at you, and your gazes met. 

“Be honest with me, Mickey…Did you stop eating just so you could see me?” 

He swallowed again, briefly diverting his gaze before looking back at you, running his tongue over his lips. Mickey was always cute, but he looked especially delectable in this angle. 

“Y-yeah…” he stammered. “I really didn’t mean to get you in trouble —“ 

“Why did you do that? Did you want my attention?” 

“Uh –“ 

“Do you like me?” 

His answered came in the form of a shy nod and an uneasy grip on your legs. In the best way, you were going to ruin him.  

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “You can touch me. I want you to.” 

Reaching out to embrace your torso, Mickey found himself softly stunned as you pulled away, comforted with the sight of you removing your lab coat and aptly peeling off your jumpsuit, discarding it across the cold floor. 

The man wasted no time in latching onto you, rubbing his face over your bare skin as he pressed wet, impassioned kisses against your stomach, making his way passed your bellybutton and towards your underwear.  

You threw your head back as you pulled him closer, placing your hands on top of his as he roamed your body, lithe fingers kneading the shape of your thighs and ass. In any other circumstance, you would’ve been trying to pleasure Mickey – and you were sure you would eventually – but you got the feeling that he only ever wanted to make you happy. 

Your pleasure was his pleasure. He was useful that way. 

Mickey let out a soft whistle from his nose, momentarily pulling away from getting his fix. 

“You smell like strawberries…” he murmured before nestling into you. Who would’ve thought that the perfume you’d grabbed from Earth right before jumping on this metal container would awaken something in him? 

Grinning, a purr escaped your lips as you lowered yourself onto Mickey’s thighs, one hand on his chest as you gently pushed him onto the bed, his back springing up ever so slightly from the recoil. He looked so beautiful like this; all desperate and wanting, eager to taste your lips. 

Pressing your lips against his, you gave him what he wanted. Though you’d never underestimated him, you were rather surprised by how skilfully his lips moved against your own, barely missing a beat as his hands worked your way up to your breasts. 

He let out a moan as he gave them a squeeze through your bra, eyes darting frantically between your chest and the sight below him – your ass grinding perfectly against his bulge. 

“You’re so sweet, Mickey, do you know that?” you teased, popping up to quickly push down his pants. “I hate the way they treat you.” 

“You aren’t like them…” he murmured. “You’re perfect.” 

If it wasn’t for hormones clouding your judgment, your heart would’ve stopped upon questioning the melancholy statement. You’d only treated him as any good doctor would – with respect – and yet he was comparing you to some kind of deity. 

Mickey stopped you with a firm grasp on your forearm, just as you began to reach down into his boxers. You were mildly shocked, almost expecting him to be completely passive in the act, but wasn’t adverse to the offer. In fact you rather liked it. 

“Let me.” He whispered. 

You obliged. 

Mickey let out a loud whimper as he sunk into you, his cock bottoming out in you nicely. He was average sized, but it completed you. You felt every pulse and twitch as you moved your hips along him, coating pink cock in a shiny film. 

He’d pawed at your chest now, popping a breast from inside the material and putting it into his mouth, sucking and licking at your nipple. You moaned at the contact, though quickly but down on your lip to suppress any more noises. At the end of the day, you were still technically a doctor on duty. 

Then again, Marshall was so weird that he’d probably enjoy your gratuitous display – limbs flailing and Mickey’s hair clung to his forehead from ecstasy. The ship was cold, but heat filled your body, tingling from your loins and rising through to your cheeks.  

You were so preoccupied with Mickey’s visual proof of euphoria that you’d barely noticed that his hands had made their way to your lower body, his hands holding the sides of your ass in position as you writhed against him. 

“Shit…” you stammered. “You’re so good…Don’t stop…” 

Naively, the man shook his head, staring up at you with puppy eyes. In an effort to impress you, he bucked his hips up into your wet pussy, squelching sounds louder and prominent than before. He seemed to be hitting your spot effortlessly. 

“Beautiful. God, you’re an angel…” he sighed, his squeaky, yet raspy accent as prominent as ever. He sounded like he was from New York. 

You’d ask him about it some day. 

As Mickey’s pace slowed, and your walls clenched around him, you could tell that you were both close. Honestly, you didn’t know whether you’d flop into his arms or if he would cave in on you, but somehow, even millions of miles from Earth, you grounded each-other.  

[zevrra]

hi! jayce x reader where she (or they whatever) is working in the lab w him and the experiment goes a little haywire, getting her hurt? please make my man as pathetic wet dog guilty as possible bonus points if you mention the beard please thank you

includes: [fluff!] something goes wrong in the lab and jayce feels really bad about it!

ft. jayce x gn!reader

extra(s): i hope i wrote jayce pathetic enough for you anon!! thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy it!! (also i love the beard and will take every chance i can to mention it KSHSKH jayce is SO FIONE)

you had wanted to surprise your lover, jayce talis, so you showed up to the lab with some lunch for the two of you. he hadn’t expected you and was so happy to see you. soot covers the side of his cheek as he wears his cute little goggles, hair a mess as he turns his back on his latest project to greet you.

“baby!” jayce chirps happily. his hands find your waist as he settles to stand before you, leaning down to place a kiss against your lips.

you smile and roll your eyes at your goofy boyfriend. moving his goggles out of the way before kissing him back. “thought i’d drop by with some food. is that okay?” you ask as jayce wraps you up in a hug. you move your thumb across his face, wiping away as much dirt as you can with a furrowed brow; it was never easy cleaning his face with his beard now. “maybe you should shave?” you tease him with a soft laugh, wiping your hand across his lab coat.

jayce pouts at your words, running a hand along his bearded chin. “what, you don’t like it?” he asks with a lifted eyebrow before shaking his head to get back onto the topic of food. “anyway, you have perfect timing actually! i could use your help with this…thing while we eat.” jayce sighs as he gestures towards the project he’s probably been slumped over for too long; hence the length of his beard. you smile as he joyfully takes the food you offer him before moving back to the lab’s desk while dragging you along with him. “i just don’t know what i’m missing.” he mutters as he takes a bite out of the snack you’ve brought him, leaning against the desk. his eyes glance from his notes, to whatever hex project he’s got sitting on his desk, before looking over at you.

you settle in beside jayce with a smile as you reach to pick through his notes. your eyes scanning over his messy handwriting as thoroughly as you can while jayce rests a heavy hand on your waist, needing to keep you close at all times when it’s just the two of you. something you dearly loved about the man. “have you tried upping the voltage?” you ask as you read through the notes; to which jayce nods in response, mouth clearly full. “what about switching the plus and minus here around?”

jayce stops his snacking for a minute, clearly thinking about your proposal, as he considers the option. he sets his lunch down and turns around to face the notes in your hand, reading over where you point to. “no but…here, i think channeling energy here instead might work!” jayce states with a newfound confidence, slipping his goggles back on as he fully turns to the hex project.

and then it all happens so fast.

seconds within jayce toying with the rune, an explosion sets off. the light blue shimmer of magic raises every hair on your body; and it sends a cold, dreadful shiver down your spine. you barely have time to react to get away but luckily, jayce does. his hands are grabbing your body, yanking you away while turning his back towards the explosion, pulling you entirely into his chest to cover you from the blast. thankfully, by some miracle, before the “big boom” the rune fizzles out and dies, and only a very small shockwave shatters some nearby glass; leaving you and jayce intact but shaken up.

after it quiets down, you manage to peel your face off of jayce’s shoulder and look around. his desk is a mess, notes mixed with broken glass lay all over the floor— meanwhile smoke rolls silently around the project. jayce, suddenly realizing that he and you were both, in fact, still alive, gasps, squeezing you a little tighter before barely pulling inches away.

“oh gods,” jayce mutters as he quickly scans over your face. he pulls you gently further away from the blast, hands roaming your entire body to inspect you before caressing the side of your face. his thumb wipes gently along your face as he inspects a cut you didn’t know you had. “shit!” he curses under his breath, hazel eyes full of agony and sorrow as he looks at the wound inflicted upon you. “are you ok? does it hurt anywhere else?”

your heart beats hard in your chest but you shake your head at his question, still in shock from moments ago but relatively you’re physically okay. your hand slightly trembles as you manage to reach up and touch where his hand gently caresses you, feeling the sticky of your blood from your open cut. it stings, pretty good, but not deep enough to need any kind of stitch work. jayce holds your face dearly in his hands as his eyes fill up with tears. “i’m so sorry. my god i could’ve killed you.” jayce practically sobs as both of his hands hold your face gently now, pressing his forehead against your own. “i’m so sorry love. please forgive me.” he mutters, defeated as he holds you.

you take a deep breath in, hold it for a second, then release it; squeezing jayce’s hand gently. “jay, it’s not your fault. please, are you okay?” you whisper in a worried tone, pulling away just enough to look at him.

“i don’t care about me!” he responds with a tremble to his voice; seemingly biting back his sobs.

you shake your head, giving his hand one more squeeze. “well, i care. now come here.” you frown before taking a step back and dragging him along with you. without struggle, he let’s you lead him further away from “ground zero” and finally allows you to check him out now. and thankfully jayce has only suffered a few small cuts to the long coat he wears. and if it weren’t for that damned lab coat he wore, things could've been a lot worse. “you’re okay.” you sigh with relief, smoothing your hand across his jaw and neck. “no serious bleeding or any open wounds that i can see.” you add with a soft smile.

but his eyes continue to tell you how upset he is. unhappy at all about the injury on your face but he remains unscathed. he can barely look at you; and when he does, he stares at the scratch along your cheek. “i can’t believe i got you hurt.” jayce says, drooping like a wilted flower as he looks up at you through his eyelashes as he sits down in a cleaner area.

“jayce, darling, you didn’t do anything. you can’t control the uncontrollable.” you hum softly, taking his face into your hands as he settles himself down. and at your touch he melts into your palm, puppy dog eyes staring up at you as one of his big hands covers over one of your hands.

“i am so sorry.” jayce mumbles with a sad pout.

you frown a little, pouting, as you move the flat of your palms across his beard, scratching his face just a little as you try and will his self blame away. “maybe this beard is just bad luck.” you grumble but the tease manages to get jayce to crack the tiniest smile. you chuckle as his face softens in your hands. turning his lips to kiss the inside of your palm.

“ha, nice try. i’m not shaving.” jayce teases with a smile he hides behind your hand. you mirror his smirk as he pulls you down to him, pressing his lips into yours in a tender kiss.

yeah. you two were going to be okay.

[linddzz]

I intended to write out ONE scene for the early days of Team Hextech, but these dweebs completely derailed me into an entirely different scene by establishing nicknames.

So here's a teaser of sorts for the wider fic @amahhi and I are working on, which is going to be snapshots through their years together and also a way for me to shove every Jayvik meta I have into one manifesto.

Stage 1: let me sell you on the whole nickname thing with Academy Dorks. Pure pre-relationship fluff and dork4dork energy. Nothing bad is ever gonna happen to these cuties.

------------------

It is surprising, how easily things come together.

Surprising in how Viktor has now been around Jayce Talis for over 72 hours (it is currently at 79) and he has, at no point, felt an urge to knock Jayce out with a sharp swing to the back of the head so that Viktor could have a moment to himself. Surprising in the fact that he is not actually surprised by this. Nothing could surprise him now, when the euphoria fills his veins like nothing he's known before. 

There is the magic. Of course there's the magic. The blue glow like a lightning flash caught behind his eyes and burned forever into his mind. There could not be anything but the magic now. Yet it was everything else that came with the magic as well. The freshly assigned lab that is, truthfully, hardly more than an old office with the furniture shoved out of it. The chalkboard being pilfered from the library in the middle of the night, because the single pathetic one the lab came with was a joke. 

There is Jayce. Jayce, who is the magic, the spark, the surge of life and energy. Jayce laughing in little hitched noises that his stifling only turns into absurd wheezing, because they couldn't fit the stolen chalkboard out of the library at first, not until Viktor made him knock the whole thing over so they could remove the wheels. Which, of course, had to be put back on immediately after they got the thing through the doors.

"We're going to end up exiled anyway after this." Jayce whispered far too loudly, sitting on the wet stone of the Academy courtyard, fully illuminated by a street lamp to screw the wheels back on because Viktor's flashlight flickered dark after five minutes.

"Fine." Viktor hisses back, "at least we will have an actual chalkboard." Which is a nothing statement, but it makes Jayce curl in on himself with another fit of little hiccuping giggles, so that's alright.

"I don't think they'll let us take the board, V."

That causes Viktor to pause for approximately half a second, considering. "Is that a nickname?"

The little hitching laughs stop, which is a shame. Jayce clears his throat and goes back to tightening the wheel in place. "Uh. I guess? Sorry, is that ok?"

"You misunderstand. I've never been given a nickname before." Viktor taps his fingers on his cane, looking up at nothing as he examines how he feels about getting his first nickname.

"Oh yeah?" He can't tell if Jayce is secretly pitying him or not, but it doesn't sound like he is. "What do you think of it?"

Viktor tilts his head one way, and then another, feeling his face pull into a grimace. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt Jayce's feelings, but he does not think that insincerely given adoration of the nickname would be a good early mark for the relationship. 

He intends on keeping himself in Jayce's life for however long his own lasts, by any means necessary. It's going to be a learning curve, figuring out how to have someone like him for that long, but he doesn't think lying or even stretching the truth is how he should accomplish this goal.

"Woah," Jayce says, and when Viktor looks down the other man is sitting, ass still fully on the wet paving stones, staring up at Viktor with sincere fascination and the beginnings of a grin. "You really hate that, huh?"

"No." He doesn't. Which he doesn't realize until he says so, but it's true, he doesn't hate it. "I am still deciding, don't rush me."

"Don't tell me you're grading my nicknames, V." Jayce huffs, and he shuffles himself through a puddle to get the last wheel on the last leg of their stolen goods. "I'm gonna have a panic attack over nicknames. And then I'm gonna have nightmares about the fact that I had a panic attack over a nickname, instead of over stealing Academy property. Hey. How come I've done more crimes in three days with you than I ever had in my life?"

"That seems like it is your problem." Viktor points out, leaning with both hands on his cane now, watching some curls of mist under the street lamp as he continues mulling over his first nickname. It's been given to him by Jayce Talis, who gave Viktor magic and who is now soaking his ass on the ground so that Viktor can have a better chalkboard. It seems a small price to pay.

"Yes." He decides, nodding. "It's fine."

"That sounds like one ringing endorsement."

"You wanted my opinion. Honestly? It eh, lacks creativity."

"What did I say about grading my nicknames?"

"Plural? No no, you get one."

"Hardass." Jayce grumbles, pulling first himself and then the chalkboard back up with little effort. Which is impressive, as it is not a small board. "What about me?"

"Hm?" Viktor is already moving, tugging the board around to make sure the wheels are all even.

"Come on, fair's fair. What's my nickname?" 

When Viktor looks up - intending to point out that making a nickname for a name which is already a single syllable is counterintuitive - Jayce is at the other end of the board, grinning a blinding and crooked grin. His hair is a mess, with the mist depositing little gleaming drops of diamonds against the black. There's an eagerness, nearly a hunger, in his bright hazel eyes as he waits for Viktor's nickname. All of that, beaming at him from the other side of the board that Jayce agreed to steal at an obscene hour of the night for him. There are dimples.

"Lásko." He says, as naturally as a heartbeat, as easily as blinking. It's hardly a revelation for him. Viktor has already spent 77 of the past 79 hours reconfiguring his ideological stances on the concept of soulmates. 

Jayce snorts, his grin falling, but not into a shocked disgust or even displeasure at the foreign sound. Instead, he sets his formidable jawline forward and pouts.

"I want a do over. That sounds so much cooler." He groans.

Ask me what it means. 

Scratch that. Do not ask me that. However long one is supposed to wait before saying love, I am sure that I am under that mark. 

"No do overs. Even I know that about nicknames."

"You don't make the nickname rules! You never even had one before!"

"No do overs."

"Ok! Fine! Congrats on being stuck with V!"

[phagodyke]

so sweaty at work its actually revolting

[hy6erion]

Absolutely desperate for more filthy horny reader content. WHERE THE PERVERT READERS AT!?

- Specifically Viktor finding out that their lil innocent lab assistant seems to not actually be so innocent and has a problem "borrowing" Viktors things and so he finally decides to confront them about it. Would be a real shame if he bent them over his knee and spanked them as punishment till they were a sobbing babbling mess and then proceed fuck them stupid…a real shame indeed -COUGH-

Stolen and Punished — Viktor x Reader

synopsis: viktor discovers his seemingly innocent lab assistant is a pervert who’s been stealing his things. after a humiliating spanking, she still doesn’t learn—so he punishes her again, this time by edging her to tears in his lap.

cw: nsfw, fem! reader, pervert! reader, d/s dynamics, mean! viktor, spanking, humiliation, degrading, edging, begging, calling him sir (😭)

a/n: please dont mind that I it changed a bit 🙏🏼 hope u can still enjoy it :P

Your thighs burn. Your face is hot and your voice is hoarse from sobbing into your arm, stretched over the desk you usually take notes on. But tonight, you’re not writing data. You’re not documenting Hextech tests. You’re bare from the waist down, stretched over Viktor’s lap, and every inch of your skin feels like it’s glowing with shame and heat.

How this happened?

Simple.

He found your drawer.

Or rather—he broke the lock on your locker after he noticed things of his kept disappearing. One shirt. Then two. His lab tie. And more. You thought you were clever, hiding them away in a zippered pouch labeled “personal items.”

But Viktor? He’s not stupid. And you’re not as sneaky as you thought.

“You really thought I wouldn’t notice” he murmurs, fingers dragging across the curve of your ass, feather-light. “My clothing slowly vanishing… and you always smelling like my cologne?”

He tsks, his touch drifting lower, to the spot just beneath your cheek, where the soft skin meets thigh.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

SMACK

The slap lands with no warning. A clean, open-palm strike that ripples through your body and rings in your ears. You jolt with a broken gasp, pressing your thighs together. But Viktor just sighs and uses his knee to shift them apart again.

“Don’t do that” he says, his voice calm but firm. “You’ll keep them open. Understood?”

You nod—choking on the breath that stutters out of you. “Y-Yes…”

“Yes what?” His voice darkens instantly.

You swallow, shame flushing high in your throat. “Y-Yes, sir.”

He hums. Pleased. His hand coasts lazily over your tender skin. “Good girl.”

SMACK.

Another one. Sharper. You can feel your skin giving under the force now, blood rushing to the surface. He doesn’t let you recover—his palm returns again, again, each slap a precise punishment meant to sting. Measured. Methodical.

You’re gasping now, tears slipping hot down your cheeks. Not just from pain—but from the way it makes your whole body hum, your stomach fluttering, your thighs trembling as the heat spreads across your skin.

“Tell me what you did” Viktor says softly, hand resting heavy on the small of your back. “I want to hear it. Every detail. Every disgusting little thing you thought I’d never find out.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. But the words come out anyway, shamefully wet, broken between breaths.

“I—I took your shirts. I slept in them. T-Touched myself in them—”

SMACK

You wail, jerking forward. The burn makes your thighs twitch.

“And?” he prompts, unhurried.

Your voice hitches. “I wore your tie under my clothes… in the lab. It smelled like you. I—I kept your stuff—used them—and I thought about you while—while—”

SMACK

It cracks against the underside of your ass—raw and flushed. You sob outright now, hiccuping with the humiliation of it all, drool wetting the crook of your arm.

“You filthy thing” Viktor breathes, the roughness in his voice betraying how much this is affecting him. “I gave you a position in my lab. I trusted you.”

You nod helplessly, whimpering.

“And this is how you repay me?” He grabs a fistful of your hair and gently tugs your head back so you’re forced to look at him over your shoulder. “With secret orgasms and ruined underwear stuffed in your locker?”

Your lips tremble. “I’m sorry—I didn’t— I just—”

“You just what?” he snaps.

“I couldn’t help it…” you whisper.

He stares at you for a long, heavy moment. Then—he lets go. Pushes your head gently down again. And with a sigh, slides his hand between your thighs.

You twitch violently. His knuckles glide over slick skin.

“Pathetic” he murmurs.

You sob, hips shivering. “I know—I’m sorry—!”

He chuckles—low and amused, but not kind. “No. You’re not. You’re enjoying this far too much.”

His hand lifts.

SMACK

You cry out, the sound shameless and high, echoing off the walls of the lab. It lands square on the most tender part of your ass, and your whole body flinches from the force of it.

“You’re not innocent at all, are you?” he murmurs. “All that shy eye contact. Helping me with my notes. Laughing like some bashful little thing at my compliments.”

You hiccup through your tears. “I-I wanted you to notice…”

Another pause.

And then, slowly, you feel him lean in, his chest pressed against your spine. His breath warms the shell of your ear.

“Well” Viktor whispers, “you got my attention now.”

His hand slides up your back again, fingertips teasing over your spine, then slipping back down to your bruised ass. He traces the lines of each handprint.

“I should make you stay like this for hours” he says. “Arched over my knee, dripping like a bitch in heat. Let you think about what you’ve done.”

You mewl softly, your thighs slick and sticky where they press together. You feel so raw. So open. Your entire body hums with tension.

SMACK

You jerk forward again, breath breaking in your throat. That one hurt. But it leaves a heat that makes your clit throb with need, your hips grinding down before you can stop yourself.

Viktor laughs. A warm, cruel sound.

“Can’t help yourself, can you? So desperate you’re rutting against my thigh like a needy little animal.”

You wail into the desk. “I-I’m sorry—I c-can’t—”

SMACK

Another strike. And another. You lose count.

By the time he slows, your skin is bright with flushed heat, handprints like painted stains across your ass and thighs. You’re sobbing, face wet, hips twitching involuntarily with every shift of his lap beneath you.

Viktor strokes your back softly, at odds with the harshness of before. “That’s better,” he murmurs. “There she is. My good little lab assistant. All flushed and well-behaved again.”

You whimper.

“Next time” he says, “if you want something of mine…” He brushes your ruined panties back up with care, fingers ghosting over your inner thigh as he tucks the fabric into place, “…you’ll ask.”

You nod, broken. “Y-Yes, sir.”

He helps you sit up, cradling your hips as you wince from the movement. His eyes trail over your tear-streaked cheeks, the wet shine on your thighs.

“Good girl” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

Then, with a dark smile:

“Now clean yourself up. You look like a mess.”

You thought he wouldn’t find out again.

That you’d learned to be sneakier.

Quieter. More discreet.

But when you opened your locker this morning, expecting your stash to be safe and undisturbed, there was a folded note waiting inside. Neat handwriting. Sharp pen strokes. A single line:

My office. Now.

Now you’re in his lap again—but not the way you daydream about.

Viktor doesn’t even look at you.

His jaw is set. His eyes are on the opposite wall, and his grip around your waist is firm—stern fingers pressing into the dip of your back, forcing your spine straight, your legs spread wide on either side of his.

“Third time” he says, voice low and cold, vibrating through your thighs where they sit flush to his. “Third. And I was going to be merciful.”

You open your mouth—but the look he gives you slices through any excuse before it can form.

“Don’t even try it” he mutters. “I found my handkerchief in your drawer. Ruined. My undershirt—again. And a photo of me. Where did you even get that, hm?”

You can’t speak. You just squirm. The shame sits low in your stomach, curling like a knot, especially when you feel the shape of him under you—hard beneath the fabric of his trousers. He hasn’t moved you an inch since pulling you down onto his lap, but the threat in his stillness is clear.

“You like being punished” Viktor says, almost to himself. “The spanking only got you wetter. You want me to lose patience.”

His hand slides from your back down to your hip, then between your legs—finding you wet already through your panties. He breathes in slowly, then gives a hollow, humorless laugh.

“See?” he murmurs. “Dripping.”

You whimper softly. His fingers rub in slow, maddening circles over the soaked fabric, just enough pressure to make you roll your hips without thinking—just enough to make your clit throb.

“Desperate little thief” he whispers. “You just can’t help yourself.”

Your breath hitches. “P-Please—”

But his hand stops.

He stills everything. Even his breath.

“No” he says. “No, no. Not yet. You don’t get to beg.”

You try not to squirm. But you can’t help it. Sitting on his lap like this—needy and humiliated—makes it impossible to stay still. Especially when he finally begins to move his fingers again, slow and cruel, brushing over the damp fabric without mercy.

“You’ll sit right here” he says softly. “And you’ll take everything I give you. But you will not come. Do you understand?”

You nod frantically. “Y-Yes—yes, sir—”

His hand grabs your throat. Not tight. Just a warning squeeze as he brings his lips near your ear.

“Say it properly.”

Your thighs quake. “I’ll take everything you give me, sir. I won’t come.”

A low sound vibrates in his chest—pleased. And then he does reward you: fingers pushing the soaked fabric aside, slipping into the heat between your folds. Just the pads of two fingers, circling your clit. Featherlight. Over and over and over.

You choke on a gasp, already twitching. His other hand holds your hip down to keep you from rocking forward too much.

“Look at you” he murmurs. “Soaked and shaking just from this. If I dipped my fingers in, I’d drown.”

You whine, high and broken. Your clit pulses under every stroke, the pressure building too fast to make sense. You press your face into his collar, hot tears forming as your legs begin to tremble.

“Sir—I can’t—I need—”

“No” he says, and stops.

Your whole body jerks. A strangled sob escapes you—raw and pathetic. Your hips grind down helplessly against his thigh, but he doesn’t move.

“Did I tell you you could come?”

“N-No—”

“Then stop whining.”

You clamp your mouth shut. Your thighs twitch again. He starts again.

Slower. Meaner.

Two fingers now, circling your clit in tight, precise movements. Every time you start to shake—every time your breath breaks or your hips twitch—he stops. Holds you there. Lets your body flutter with the emptiness of it. Lets the orgasm sit on the edge and wither.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Your slick is coating the inside of your thighs now, soaking into his pants. You’re crying in earnest—hot, breathless sobs that leave you choking. Not just from the frustration—but the shame. You can feel how desperate you are. Feel how your cunt clenches around nothing. How your body writhes for him. How you’re being turned into a pathetic mess without even getting off.

“You’re going to remember this” Viktor whispers. “Every time you touch something of mine again. Every time you lie. You’ll remember what it felt like to be made a useless little toy.”

You sob again, your lips brushing the side of his neck. “Please—please—sir—!”

“Do you think you deserve to come?”

“I—I don’t know—”

“Wrong answer.”

He slaps your clit. Just once. One wet, sharp slap to the swollen bundle of nerves, and your body jerks like it’s been shocked. It doesn’t hurt—it burns. The frustration bubbles up your spine, tears spilling fast now.

He starts again.

Softer this time. Barely touching. But you feel everything. Every flick. Every stroke. And your thighs twitch uncontrollably, your hips bucking, your pussy fluttering around emptiness with a sobbing gasp.

“I feel you clenching” he murmurs. “You’re close again.”

You nod wildly.

“Beg.”

You whimper. “Please, sir—please, I—I need it—I need to come so bad—please—”

“Say you’ll be good.”

“I’ll be good—! I swear—I’ll never steal again—”

“You said that last time.”

“I mean it this time—! Please—I’ll do anything—”

He strokes once more. One final, devastating flick.

And stops.

Your orgasm dies on impact.

You scream, clutching at his shirt, soaking the front of his trousers with slick and tears and drool and sweat. You’re shaking like a leaf, your thighs spasming, your clit swollen and throbbing with denied pleasure.

“I—please—I c-can’t—I can’t take any more—!”

Viktor just holds you.

Silent.

Unmoving.

“You don’t get to come” he says quietly, brushing your hair from your face. “You didn’t earn it.”

Your entire body trembles in his arms.

“Maybe next time” he adds, voice like velvet and iron, “if you ask first—before stealing—you’ll be treated like something other than a needy, filthy brat.”

He kisses your temple once.

Then he lifts you, gently, and sets you down on your knees in front of him.

“Now sit” he commands. “Hands on your thighs. And be still.”

You obey. Bare, swollen and soaked—your ruined cunt twitching between your thighs. Tears dry on your cheeks. You don’t dare move.

Viktor just watches you with cold, quiet satisfaction.

“Maybe I’ll let you come tomorrow” he muses. “Maybe I won’t.”

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Zombie // Cinna’s Monstertober Writing Challenge

Tags: Zombie!Ghost x fem!reader, smut, nsfw, mdni, monster x human relationship, mention of suicide, crack, this is not supposed to be taken seriously. please don’t take this seriously.

Synopsis: Your pussy is the cure to the zombie apocalypse. Hurry! Fuck your zombie boyfriend before it’s too late!!

An: Guys… I’m sorry for what I’m about to write. This shit is going to make NO SENSE, but hopefully you will get a laugh out of it. Honestly, I just need to write something so silly rn.😭

His three heads watched you in confusion as your body rose and fell along his cock. With his hands chained to the wall behind him and that pesky collar around his neck, you were at no danger of him biting you and turning you.

He was sat against the floor, where he had been since he had turned. He always told you that if he turned, you had to kill him, but when it came time to put him down, you couldn't do it... not when his cloudy brown eyes looked at you like they were scared. You were convinced that he was still in there somewhere.

Up and down, up and down, you were barely even wet.

Realistically, you felt bad for doing this to him while he was clearly not all the way in his right mind. Your boyfriend, Simon, used to love when you rode him. Now, he's just the shell of his previous likes and dislikes.

You wouldn't be doing this right now if it wasn't the only way. The cure to the outbreak of mindless zombies was between your legs. You knew it was! You had spent far too long in your little makeshift lab, testing on your chained up zombie boyfriend to find a cure.

You wouldn't give up on him.

There are various proteins that live within vaginal secretions, and this apocalypse was being caused by a protein malfunction in the brain. Your thought process was that maybe, just maybe, if you could fuck your boyfriend, expose him to the natural, normal proteins in your body, then his body will start to regulate as well.

It was a pipe dream. Literally, you're getting piped. But it was your only hope.

Luckily (or maybe unfortunately) for you, Simon hadn't grown three dicks like he had grown three heads. Three lifeless pairs of eyes stared at you curiously, watching as your hair and breasts bounced with each movement.

"Uhhh..." One of the heads groaned, and he tried to lean into you. A frustrated growl fled his lips as he wasn't able reach you due to the collar.

Maybe it was muscle memory or maybe it was him wanting to bring you towards him, either way he jolted his hips upwards, knocking you forward just a bit.

Your palms smacked against the wall behind Simon to prevent yourself from slamming straight into him. You're too close... He could bite you if he wanted.

You quickly try to lean back before a strange noise caught your attention. Sniff. Sniff.

Was he... smelling your hair?

A grunt of approval escaped his lips, and he jolted his hips forward once again, making you crash into his burly chest. His middle face continued to sniff at you, like an animal who was trying to identify you.

Maybe he really is in there somewhere.

"'m sorry, Si..." Your voice is shaky as your hips are barely moving anymore. "You told me to kill you, but I couldn't do it. 'm not strong like you are."

Plap. Plap. Plap.

Your skin connects with his with each time you come down onto his length, taking him in all the way deep inside you wet heat.

You feel soft ragged breaths tickle your skin as you're still leaning in dangerously close to him. If this doesn't work, you planned on not living anymore anyways. The life that you have been living for months now wasn't worth saving. If you couldn't be with him, you simply didn't want to exist.

His middle face was breathing heavily on your skin, and you could feel his hips trying to flutter upwards to meet your bouncing. "I love you, Si. I'm doing this because.. ngh~ I. Love. You."

A low agitated grunt left his mouth again. It sounded like he was trying to convey something, but you couldn't tell what it is that he needed.

"What is it, Si?" You ask softly as you look towards his undead face. His clouded over eyes search your face desperately before he yanks on the chains. His hips try harder to buck up into you.

"M-more?"

Excited grunts fell from his lips quickly. Your hands found his shoulders next to his new set of heads, and you try to remember just how he taught you how to ride him.

You lean up off of his cock just until his tip is just barely inside before crashing back down with a small yelp. Simon wasn't a small man, and he was well endowed. Taking him all in at once was no easy task, but you continued with that same motion over and over.

To your surprise, your zombie boyfriend leaned his heads back, and his breath became more pressured. You could feel yourself start to gush around him, completely drooling all over his cock.

The scientific portion of your brain couldn't comprehend how he managed to stay hard during all of this, but you chocked it up to the body responding to stimuli involuntarily.

"Urgh... fff-ahh.." One of his heads breathily moaned as you rode him.

His movements were so primal as he thrusted his hips upwards to meet yours. Soon, both of your movements were growing sloppy as both of you chased each other's highs.

"S-so good, Si... mmmph~ just a bit more." You whimper softly as you're hips start to roll. His cock grinds against your gummy walls, making the most erotic sopping noises imaginable. "Fuck... Simon.."

The chains pull taut as Simon growls lowly. Two thuds sound through the room, and his cock is throbbing violently inside of you, filling you to the brim with his seed. Your hips continue to shakily move for just a few moments before you're orgasming on top of him.

"Christ, love." Your boyfriend's gravely voice spoke. Your movements freeze as you have to wonder if you just imagined that. Maybe your brain was just trying to cope with the loss of Simon by hallucinating his voice.

Your head slowly turns to look up, and Simon's brown eyes meet yours - no longer clouded over. "You're a fuckin' freak, yeah?" He teases with his signature grin beneath his mask.

You saved him! Now, you have to tell the world about this news.

read the rest of my monstertober writing challenge here!

[multi-fandom-imagine]

-➤𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 || Stanford Pines ||

A/n: Finally wrote this out, Part II will be Stan's

You knew his needed this, it's what you kept telling yourself anyways as you made your way down to his lab. Your fingers clutching the fabric as you noticed the man hunched over something.

"Ford."

"Almost finished dear." Ford muttered.

Rolling your eyes you made your way over to him, your hands moving to his shoulders. "Can you at least look at me for a moment."

A sigh escaped his lips as he turned his body fixing his glasses though his throat suddenly went dry seeing you in the skimpy outfit. He tried to talk but nothing was coming out. "You...you."

Grinning you let your fingers smooth out the thin fabric. It did little to hide your body and Ford was having a hard time looking at your face. He did his best to keep his hands from shaking as the landed on your shapely hips

His throat felt dry and god did he want to rip it off your body.

"You're blushing Ford." Giving him a coy smile you let your fingers trail down his cheek.

Shaking his head, the man cleared out this throat as he lifted you up letting your legs wrap around his waist as he gave your hips a squeeze. "Can you blame me dear...I was just admiring art."

His lip's grazing your neck, biting the skin as his fingers roamed your body, clutching the fabric as he listened to your soft moans.

A shudder coursed through your body as you felt his fingers brush your slit for a moment before he tugged your panties off. "I want to keep this on...if you do not mind." He muttered against your neck slowly rutting against you.

Whimpering, you nodding your head as your legs tightened around his waist. "T-that's fine...just fuck me already Ford."

Letting out a snort, Ford pushed his glasses that slipped down the bridge of his nose. "Well I can hardly say no to you."

He loved the way you called him by his name, a mix of desperation and longing in your voice. He didn't know why he felt it, a need...a desire to possess you to mark you even more.

"Good girl," he purred, his voice laced with a mix of dominance and affection. His fingers trailed down your spine, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake.

He positioned himself at your entrance, teasingly brushing against your slick folds. His voice dropped to a low, seductive whisper. "You're so wet for me already, Dear. I love how responsive you are to my touch." With that, he slowly pushed into you, savoring the tightness and warmth that enveloped him.

A groan of pleasure escaped his lips as he began to move, his hips rocking against yours with a steady, controlled rhythm. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he claimed you as his own. Each thrust was powerful, driving deeper and deeper into your core, leaving you gasping and moaning.

Ford's lips found their way to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin. His teeth grazed over your pulse point, eliciting a shiver of pleasure from you. "You're mine, i'll make sure everyone knows it."

[anixvl]

LAB RAT! || P.J

pairing: labrat!jay x fem!reader

synopsis: A successful creation of your manic scientist of a father, Jay’s kept on-the-low in your large estate. Unbeknownst to the secret romantic relationship between you and him, you’re obliged to sneak around and risk it all to see each other.

genre: sci-fi romance, forbidden love, fluff, smut

warnings: smut, cursing, jealousy (on both sides), possiveness, open ending, idkkk

wc: 3.5k

a/n: This was soooooo post-poned and rushed bc I just had so many other ideas & frequently lost motivation. This is a finished draft! I promise I'll get to writing better ones! :(

It was the year 2002 when your father reached his peak in biotechnology. Obsessed with the creation of life and the ability to create something far advanced than a mere human, fascinated him. Within the same year, with endless hard work and dedication, he achieved the impossible. The creation of the first bionic superhuman through illegal experimentation and testing. Donated from birth, Jay was the first successful test subject. Ever since, your father has kept him close by and under the raider from the government. A year later, you were born, and so both of you were raised together under the same roof, yet resided in different subdivisions of the huge mansion. you were strictly prohibited to see or to speak to him without authorization. Not that it stopped you, anyway.

Life continued normally for you outside of your house. Jay wasn’t allowed to go out the first 10 years of his life without supervision, he was homeschooled and busy with your father’s schemes. Jay’s bionic abilities all resided in his brain: telekinesis and intellectual advancement. He had no trouble getting by. It wasn’t only until the age of 14 that he was allowed to step foot outside the house on his own.

He knew he had nowhere to run, anyway. He had to come back home or else the implanted switches, by father, in his body would immobilize him and malfunction his ability to keep his bionics under stable control. He was, as much as he hated it, a labrat.

By the time he was an adult, he was beyond filthy rich. He worked for father, using his intelligence and telekinetic abilities, he was able to make off a civil living off of it. As he grew older, father got him a license, ID, a bank card, and all federal concepts he would need as an adult. Things to make him feel like a real, normal, person. Yet, it was never enough to let him fully leave. He was bound to your family and his predestined duties. It's what he was made for.

Though, It wasn’t the only thing that persuaded him to stay.

“Y/n,” someone softly whispers in your sleep.

you stir in bed, softly groaning as you wake up. your eyes flutter open, looking around your spacious room. The moon lit up your room beautifully through the balcony doors. you sit up, facing the figure at the edge of your bed.

“Jay? What are you doing here?” you whisper.

He shakes his head, gently caressing the side of your face.

“I missed you,” he frowned, analyzing your face in admiration. A face he’s never tired of seeing.

you had been gone for a week, sent to your aunts home in Italy. With not much to communicate, all you could do was wait till you came back to see him.

“I was going to find you after I slept, I was just so tired from the plane ride back,” you explained, overlapping your hand over his. you lean into his touch.

“why didn’t you call?” He asked, crawling closer to you.

“I was going to but I was really busy with my aunt,” you replied, scooting back cautiously.

He towered over you, eyeing you like prey, “Ah, I see. Busy.”

“I should’ve called, i’m sorry,” you look up at him, gripping onto his shirt.

He leans onto his rested arm beside your head, used as support. He leans in to kiss you, slowly, almost punishingly. your eyes shutter close. your hands roam around his soft skin, feeling him.

“Who’s Jake?” he asks, devouring your neck with wet kisses.

your mind becomes fuzzy at the stimulation, it’s hard to focus.

“H-How do you know about him? He’s my aunts friend son,” you reply, shakily.

Soft moans escape your lips at his roaming hands over your burning body and his trail of kisses lowering.

He bites at your collarbone, “Were you with him the entire week?”

you softly whimper, in pain and pleasure. your eyes are shut closed.

“Just for a few days,” you confessed, “whenever his family came over to my aunts.”

He harshly captures your lips once again, slowly sliding his hand under your shirt. He takes your breast in his hand, fondling it. you moan against his lips.

“Did you like being with him?” he asks, his eyes piercing through yours. The lights flickered.

you shake your head insistently, “Of course not, why would I?”

He grinds the tent inside his pants in between your legs. The barrier of mere fabric overwhelming the throb between your legs.

“I saw the pictures of you and him on the news, it's quite the talk now,” he stated, unintentionally ripping your shirt in eagerness to take it off.

you open your mouth, about to protest.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” his mouth takes in the bud of your sensitive breasts, “fuck, i’ll buy you as many as you want.”

you moan, lacing your fingers within his hair. He leaves wet kisses down to your stomach. He looks up at you as he places his hands on the hem of my shorts. you nod, reassuringly. He takes them off, sliding his hands down your soaked panties. He spreads the wetness of your cunt onto his fingers.

“Such a good girl, you’re so wet for me,” he takes off your panties, positioning himself in between your legs.

His mouth meets your cunt, taking a wet lick. He groans in satisfaction, wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, locking his face into your cunt. you cover your mouth from the involuntary sounds.

“Jay, what if someone hears us?” you shakily whisper, your legs quivering in pleasure.

He quickly glances at the door, the lock forcefully moving in place with just a look.

“There. Your dad left on a business trip, don’t worry,” he mumbles, focusing his attention back to between your legs.

Lewd, wet, slurping noises and soft moans fill the room.

“fuck, jay, im going to cum,” you whimper, your body trembling as it approaches its high.

He teases you with kisses onto your folds, causing you to squirm in eagerness.

“Jay, please,” you pleaded, he takes his pants off.

“Please, what?” he taunted, “use your words.”

“I need you,” you exhaled.

His thumb wipes off the precum from his tip, positioning his throbbing cock between your wet folds.

“I’ll make sure of it,” he affirmed, pushing into you with one swift thrust.

you shudder in pleasure, gripping onto his arms. His pace is slow and sensual, his gaze unwavering onto your expression. Your expressions and lewd sounds just makes his cock harder inside you. His mind trails back to your aunts pictures, his grip tightens.

“Why’d you smile at him like that?” his face flinches in pleasure, a subtle anger in his words and thrusts.

He leans down to devour your neck as he continues to thrusts deep. your nails dig deep into his back. your mind feels melted and your body is burning up in desire.

“Don’t smile like that to anyone but me,” he groans.

your insistent moans and the sound of skin slapping against each other fills your room.

“Jay,” you manage to say, “what’s up with y-you?”

He continues to leave sloppy kisses and love bites all over your collarbone and neck, his pace unwavering. His lips move beside your ear.

“Don’t go anywhere anymore,” he whispers in a low voice, “stay right here, with me.”

you lace your fingers through his hair and fist it, causing him to quicken his pace. you grip onto his hair, hard, incoherent words spilling from you. He let out a grunt, his hands moving to your calves to force them up over his shoulders. Ensuring his control over your body, every sound, every part of you, every breath, is his. The new position caused his cock to reach deep within you, your eyes rolling back over each one of his thrusts. Your breath was rigid and unsteady.

“Say it,” he demands, his pace mercilessly pounding into you.

“Say you’ll stay here with me. No one else,” his voice strained with groans.

“Yes, yes,” you breathe out, feeling a knot begin in my stomach.

“I won’t go anywhere. I love you, Jay,” you replied, your voice shaky.

He hums in response, satisfied. He groaned as you tightened around him, taking a hold of your wrists and pinning your hands down beside your head, interlocking your hands with his.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he grunted, “keep doing that.”

He kisses you, harshly. His thrusts become demanding, you struggle to kiss him back. you clench around his cock, the feeling in your stomach becoming intense by the second. He bites down on your neck, silencing his frequent grunts, getting louder and louder the more you clench around him.

“Jay, I’m—” you whimper, approaching your high.

“yeah?” he pounds into your cunt mercilessly, “you’re going to cum on my cock?”

you nod, whiny moans in response.

“Fuck,” he exhales, his grip onto your skin tightening.

You reach your high with a final cry, your body trembling from the electrifying bolt. A warm, filling, substance spurts deep within you following your orgasm. Jay continues to thrust within you, riding out each others high. Panting, he drops next to you, exhausted. His strong hands reach to grab you by your waist, pulling you into his warm bare chest. You immediately melt into his embrace. He plays with a strand of your hair, his breathing steadying. Your eyelids feel heavy against his warmth and strong embrace.

“I missed you,” Jay whispers, softly.

You chuckle, “you already said that.”

“I’ll say it many times and it still won’t be enough,” he replied, pulling away a bit to catch your gaze.

“I love you,” you state, gently.

“you already said that,” he teased.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He chuckles at your pouty expression.

He leans down to kiss you, softly and lovingly.

“I love you too,” he replied, drawing small circles on your skin amidst caressing your cheek.

His big hands travel all around your body, feeling every curve and feature about you like a precious artifact. He grips onto your ass, a low chuckle released from his lips as he pulls you closer to him. He buries his face in your neck.

“No one else can have you,” he mumbles against your skin, “you’re mine.”

You let out a happy sigh, relieved to be in his arms after time apart. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

The next morning, you woke up reaching for his warmth but was met with his absence. Your eyes blink open, sitting up, alarmed. You look around your room, hoping to find him here. You’re quickly met with disappointment. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Jay?” You call out softly.

No response.

You get up from your bed, walking over to your open balcony. The doors are cracked open, a familiar voice is heard from outside. You approach it cautiously, listening to the familiar voice and his conversation. You watch Jay on the phone through the cracked doors of the balcony.

“Is that really what you want? It’s never been a thought to you before, so why now? I don’t want to do it,” he spoke, his expression stern and irritated.

A faint voice is heard on the other line, Jay pinches the temple of his nose in distress.

“I don’t even know her,” he replies, “does she even know about me? who I am? what I am?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, you step closer in curiosity. What could he be talking about? who’s “her”? And why does he look so distressed?

“Do I have any other choice? There must be another way,” he adds, sighing.

His expression seems angrily defeated, as he brings his phone from his ear into his sight. The phone call has ended. He turns around, catching you at the doors. His expression falls.

“What was that about?” you ask, examining his face.

“You’re awake. How’d you sleep, love?” he dismisses your question, walking back into the room.

He steps closer to you, cupping your face with his hands. He leans down to kiss your lips, softly.

“Jay, who was that?” you retract, searching into his eyes for a sign of truth.

He avoids your gaze, sitting at the edge of your bed. You cross your arms over your chest, worriedly.

“What is it, jay?” you step closer, “you’re scaring me.”

“It was your father,” he confessed, looking down at his hands.

“He…”

“he what?” you ask, anxious by the second.

“He wants me to marry the daughter of his business partner. He says it will be beneficial to us,” he explains, looking up to meet your heartbroken gaze.

Your breath catches in your throat, your legs threatening to betray you. You falter, Jay quickly launches forward to stabilize you.

“Y/n,” he looks at you worriedly, holding onto you.

“Jay, you can’t marry her. I wont let you,” you rambled, desperately holding onto his arm as if he were to disappear if you let go.

"I won't let this happen, I'll talk to father," you stated, determination coursing furiously through your veins.

Tears clouded your vision, reality was slowly setting in. It was bound to happen, an icebreaker in your relationship. You just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Jay shakes his head, wiping away your tears.

“I won’t marry her or anyone else,” he gently reassures, “not if they’re not you.”

You sniffle, feeling your heart warm at the thought. Marriage, you and Jay. Something you’ve dreamed of since you were just a young girl. You truly cannot imagine anyone else you’d want to spend the rest of your life with if it isn’t Jay.

He signals behind you with a soft expecting smile. You look behind your shoulder, confused. In middle air, floats a small black box. You turn around, walking towards it. You lift your hands to reach for it. You momentarily look at Jay, who's smiling at you proudly. You open the box carefully, your eyes slightly widen.

"Jay, this...?" you place a hand over your mouth in disbelief.

Inside the box displayed a beautiful diamond ring.

He walks over to you, "It's for you, love."

Jay takes the ring from the box and grabs your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger. He stares at your hand, arousing him in so many weird ways. It was a mark, a symbolism that showcased his profound love and claim over you. Your heart surges in happiness, feeling utterly shocked. You stare at the shiny ring, admiring its beautiful qualities.

"Oh Jay...When did you get this?" You ask, in complete awe.

"A while ago. I just...didn't want to seem too pathetic for buying you a ring so early into the relationship," he explained, sheepishly looking away.

That thought settled into your mind; Jay has been in love with you for so long. Pathetically, irrevocably, inevitably, in love with you. Body and Soul.

"Where's yours?" You frown.

He lifts his hand up, revealing a silver ring onto his finger.

"Right here, my dear," he reassures, a sly smirk onto his handsome face.

Your eyes immediately lighten up, finding happiness in the shared connection you and Jay now have. His heart skips a beat at your expression. It quickly disolves all his self-restraint.

He leans in to kiss you, tenderly and slowly.

Your stomach turned at the thought of someone else being able to kiss Jay.

“Don’t think about it,” he mumbled against the kiss.

“Stop reading me,” you complained, remembering his frustrating genius abilities and the way he can spot-on read your thoughts and feelings just by watching you. Studying you long enough, examining.

“Can’t help it, love,” he smirked, scooping you up in his arms and taking you to your bed.

He lightly sits down first, holding you in his lap.

You immediately welcome him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You need to feel any sort of his warmth against your skin. To prove he’s still here, still yours.

He leaves hot kisses over the hickeys he left on your neck last night, his hands traveling down to your hips. He grips onto you tightly, grinding your hips back and forth onto his growing member. You shift your head, giving him opening to attack your neck with more love bites. Your breath becomes rigid as you close your eyes, taking in every touch he leaves on your burning skin.

His hand goes under your shirt, brushing the side of your waist. He kisses your collarbone, engraving the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. He looks up at you, a glint of desire in his eyes. Breathless, your hips continue to rock against him, muffled moans threatening to intensify. You tug at his sweats, urging. He lets out a low chuckle before lifting himself up slightly to slide his sweats off. You follow him, taking your shorts off. You climb off him, placing yourself inbetween his legs. His eyebrows raise in amusement, caught in surprise. You were way more insistent than usual.

He eyed you intently as you slipped his boxers off. His cock popped out, hitting his stomach.

“You’re gonna suck me off, love?” he taunted, with a low voice.

You dont reply, you simply take his cock with your hand, a string of spit falls onto his tip. He lets out a shaky exhale. You take him in your mouth, only partly. He brings his hand to lift your face up to him by your chin, he caresses you softly as you suck him off. He holds his grip onto your face, maintaining eye contact as you take his cock deeper. His face flinches in pleasure, beads of sweat forming onto his forehead.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he growled, “don’t fucking look away.”

The lamp from your nightstand starts flickering intensely, a reflection of his immense uncontrollable feelings. You suck him further, his cock hardening as it hits the walls of your throat. He mumbles phrases and curses under his breath. His hand caresses the top of your head, occasionally fisting your hair. You manage to somehow keep your eyes on Jay, afraid of the consequences you'd face if you provoke him. Your eyes sting, hot tears falling at the corner of your eyes from him fucking your throat roughly. Your supply of oxygen is cut short, you push against his thighs. He curses under his breath, pushing you further onto his member at the feeling of his orgasm approaching. With a loud gasp from you, Jay lets you go. You sit onto the floor, panting. He leans over to grab you by your waist, his strong hands quickly taking your panties off. He lifts you onto his lap once again, this time rubbing his twitching member onto your wet folds. You whimper, gripping onto his shoulders. He slowly lowers you onto his member, gripping onto your ass as he forces you to take him all in.

your mouth falls agape, lacing your fingers within his hair.

“Fuck, jay…” you moan, savoring the feeling of his cock thrushing past your walls.

You look at him intensely, obscene thoughts accumulating in your mind at the sight.

It doesn’t matter who he marries, he’ll end up face deep between your thighs at the end of the night. His cock filling you up, his marks all over your skin.

Those lewd thoughts aroused you even more, your moans becoming more frequent.

You continue riding his cock, your breath becoming rigid and hot. He throws his head back, one hand tightly onto your ass and the other onto the bed to support him.

"Shit...just like that," he groans, "keep riding my cock, baby."

Your breasts mimic your bouncing movements onto his twitching cock. You hold onto him, your face buried into his neck. You bite him, leaving marks all over his soft skin. The light bulbs explode. Jay thrusts his hips upward into you the moment he feels you clentch around him. A loud gasp escapes your mouth, feeling your orgasm approach. He kisses you roughly at the sight of your sultry expression. You squeeze your eyes shut as your orgasm washes over your body. Jay grunts loudly soonly after, his warm seed filling you up. Your body trembles as you both lay onto the bed, hands interlocked. Both of your gazes rest onto the matching rings you share. A immense, peaceful, feeling lingers within both of you.

He buries his face into your hair.

"I love you, Jay."

"I love you too, Y/n."

You both knew the consequences and trials you were bound to face, but none of that mattered. As long as you had each other, nothing could change what you both shared.

Inseverable destiny.

[tangerinesilk]

－ DISTRACTION : DAVE LIZEWSKI

dave was a great study buddy, but there's no doubt he was a distraction. he constantly made you turn your head twice at whatever he said or did whether it was some comic book character he rambled about or how his pale blue eyes shined under the warm lighting of his desk lamp.

pairing ✷ college!dave lizewski x college!fem!reader

rating ✷ r (18+ minors dni!)

tropes ✷ friends with benefits, spicy but no / little plot, unspoken love, domestic toward eachother but no dating, dorky and awkward people in love who just wont admit it theyre in love (sort of) | nsfw warnings below!

word count ✷ 1.7k

a/n ✷ um this was a random thought and it just sort of happened. stg it feels like i blacked out while writing this KSKFFKS what is going on with me. anyways been wanting to write about this cute dork for a while and why not make it really hot. posting now so i dont chicken out but ill edit later.... i always love feedback! xo

[ steamy warnings: mentions of public sex, dom & sub switches, p in v without protection, nipple play, hj + bj, f receiving oral from m, praising + heavy dirty talk, face sitting, finishing inside v ]

typical weekends: saturday night at dave's apartment.

dave was explaining something... it was something. something important, but all you could focus on was his pretty eyes and how soft his lips looked today. he pushed his glasses up more on his nose bridge again, looking down at his book for one of his college classes.

he was so into the subject, you didn't even have to nod. you were occasionally tapping the eraser end of your pencil against your blank notebook, only listening to every other word.

suddenly, your mind wanders to when you two were doing laundry at three in the morning and got a little spontaneous. then getting a bit handsy on the top floor of the library where no one usually was. maybe even the time when you were visiting him back home for one weekend and you both could barely keep it together with company downstairs.

ever since you both agreed on this friends with benefits agreement, your dry spells were no longer an issue. it seemed like both of you were touched starved, but not wanting to meet other people, strangers you didnt want or need to know.

so, after becoming lab partners in your fall semester of senior year, its been nonstop seeing each other. not just for sex, but hanging out to study, going to local comic book stores and libraries, even the occasional dinner and sleepover combo at his apartment or yours.

it seemed like a wild card at first, but you would never admit (outloud) to dave lizewski that you underestimated how great his tongue felt inside your pus—

"y/n, are you even listening?"

you cleared your throat, "hmm?"

he chuckled, "so you weren't... i know, its kind of boring."

now you felt bad, caught up from going down memory lane and he was excited about his new class.

you ran your hand over his curls, "im sorry, dave. my mind was wandering."

he turned, seeming interested, "about what?"

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, "about... you know..." you trailed then shrugged, "stuff."

dave smiled, "oh yeah? you weren't, i dont know, thinking about me?"

you had seen this confidence grow inside dave as more time passed, and you weren't sure if it was cockiness, but you couldn't deny how cute yet attractive it was on him.

"why dont you go back to what you were rambling about? please. im all ears now." you lean in, placing your hands underneath your chin with your elbows on his desk.

its ironic how his full size bed was behind the two of you yet here you are, acting like this was the first time you've hung out.

he pressed wet kisses against your inner thighs, your clit aching for his mouth as his nose brushed against your skin. he'd let out a nervous chuckle as he noticed the wet spot forming on the center of your panties. you'd bite your bottom lip as he licked his lips, in awe of the mess you were for him.

dave pulled down your panties, shuffling them down your ankles before tossing them to the side. his strong hands run up the top of your thighs before holding your hips, pulling your core closing to his mouth. after his first, yet hesitant, kiss on your clit, you let out a faint moan.

soon his tongue was running over your open slit and tasting your sweet wetness. you arched your back, leaning back on his desk as he flicked your clit a few times. when he pushes his tongue inside you, a rush of heat runs over your entire body. you caress your own breasts and pull at your own nipples as he picks up his pace.

"fuck... god, yes. eat my fucking pussy." you whimpered. he got so weak when you uttered your sweet nothings. as dominant as he thought he presented himself, dave was a sucker for you.

just when you thought it couldn't get better, he slide his two fingers into your slit as his tongue flicks your swollen clit. you told him how you love when he curled his fingers inside you, knuckle deep and gathering your wetness every pump as he brought you closer to your orgasm.

your hips grind against his mouth and hand, painfully near your climax. he cursed under his breath as he felt your pussy clench around his digits. he pulls his mouth away from your clit, trailing more kisses over your stomach then rolls his tongue against your right nipple.

his hand still worked your slit, thrusting so fast that your head was spinning along with the pleasure of him sucking your erect nipple. you glanced down, seeing how his hard pressed against his khakis. just the thought of taking his cock into your mouth made you dizzy, bucking your hips against his fingers.

"yes... make me cum. i wanna fucking cum on your fingers." you muttered under your breath, pulling at his curls. dave's knees were giving out as he held his position but he loved to hear your continous begging.

he was about to see if he could pick up his pace before your hand reached down, sliding into the front of his stained pants and caressing his hard cock. he grunted against your chest, instantly weak from your touch which made him pause.

"hmm, what about i cum on your cock instead?" you giggled as your lips met his, "it's so hard... bet you've been thinking about cumming inside my tight pussy, huh, dave?"

he sighed, "shit..."

"that's what i thought, baby." you say before taking his fingers into your mouth, tasting your own cum. he takes a mental picture even though you've done this in your previous hookups.

you hop off the desk, playfully pushing him on his twin size bed. you slowly get on your knees, running your hand over the crotch of his pants that were already unbuttoned and half unzipped. it's easy for your pull his cock out, practically springing from his briefs.

his eyes are glued to you as your tongue runs up and down the base before wrapping your lips against his red tip. you half-giggle when you taste his pre-cum, then carefully take him all in your mouth. you gag a bit as his tip pushes further in, and he groans when your throat tightens around him.

you push your tongue out to make sure your teeth dont graze his cock as you deep throat him, incredibly slow, so he can watch in awe. he leans up on his elbows, falling apart as you take him in your mouth so easily and your hand pumping the rest of his base.

"fucking christ... fuck." he muttered, his dick twitching inside your mouth as your salvia runs down when you gag on his hard.

his hand runs over your hair, gathering it together to keep it out of your face— also to have a better view of him receiving one of the best blowjobs you've given him.

when you pull your mouth away, you giggle as you pump his cock with your spit lubricating for better motion. his face screws together the faster you pump, and he can barely take the pleasure.

"hmm, i bet you wanna cum on my face... and tits. but, i want you to cum inside me." you say as you but your bottom lip, running your thumb over the cum leaking from his tip.

"me too, baby. fuck!" he grunts, and it makes you smile at how much of a mess he is too.

you rise from your knees, relieving the pressure on them before straddling him on his bed. you pull off your top, tossing it on the other side of the room as he quickly peels his shirt off as well. his big hands run up your body, over your breasts once more as his thumbs move against your nipples.

"god, i want to feel every inch of your cock... so, don't stop until you're finished." you tell him as you run his tip agaisnt your slit before slowly sinking down on him.

"babe, shit... fuck." he whimpered, his fingers pressing into your hips as you arch your back.

"god, im so tight." you moan, "your cock is so big... can barely fit you inside me." you huff, your eyes closed shut as you slowly move your hips.

soon, you meet a nice pace of bouncing on his cock and he loosens up as he watches you move up and down. his bright eyes keep moving between looking at your tits and your face, completely amazed by your beauty.

you run your hands over his toned chest and abdomen, leaving light scratches on his skin from the waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body.

"dave, im gonna cum. oh, oh! i'm gonna cum." you announced to him and he was holding off anyways, his jaw clenched his much that it was beginning to feel painful.

as you arch your back and let out a long whine, he stills his hips as his warm cum fills you up. it was the first time he was fully inside you, and you were aching around his cock, feeling it throbbing against your walls.

he leans up, leaving a soft kiss just above your breasts before you two share another kiss. you can't help but giggle, both of you feeling that sudden hit of exhaustion.

you lift yourself from your cock and cum runs down your slit, letting him see the mess he made. dave smirks, expecting him to say that he'll get you a towel but instead licks his lips and starts to lean down between your legs again.

it was like deja vu. his tongue presses against your swollen slit, tasting your mixed cum before sucking on your sore clit. now you're so sensitive to the touch, you could orgasm again at any moment. he was so in tune with your body that he knew what pace to go and how long you could actually lasts.

you run your hands over your breasts, his tongue moving so perfectly between your slit and clit. you feel his press a light kiss against the area above your pussy before trailing more kisses up your body. then, you two shared another kiss, tasting each other's tongues once more before he laid next to you.

"you know, i've never had a study partner like you." you jeered, pressed a kiss against the start of his jaw.

he blushed, "me neither..." he raised his eyebrows, "trust me."