#this one was a bit on the harder side to get back into it with

[hughes-your-daddy]

he can’t find out

pairing: macklin celebrini x will smith reader sibling

summary: sneaking around with macklin is proving harder than you thought.

warning: a little angst/ hurt and comfort

“your gonna get me in trouble,” macklin whispers, half on gear, pinning you against the cold concrete wall of the arena.

“hey, you invited me tonight, i had to lie to will saying i got a spare ticket from your media girl.” you whisper back, his lips coming down to graze yours.

“come back to mine tonight yeh, i want you to stay over tonight.” he says and you bit back your bottom lip.

you had moved out to san jose, once you started college, moving in with will since he just got his own apartment. one thing you didn’t think would happen would be ending up in a secret relationship with his best friend.

“i’ll try ok? i’ll see if my friend will cover for me or something.” you say before he breaks out into a smile, coming down to press a kiss to your lips.

“ill see you tonight baby,” he whispers before he’s slipping away back to the locker room. you quickly slip back into the suite upstairs with the rest of the friends and family who come to watch, keeping to yourself, waiting for the boys to come out to warmups.

you always wear wills jersey, as you couldn’t wear macklins, but hidden underneath you always have on the small gold chain with a heart on the end, an M engraved on the inside.

he gave it to you a couple of months ago, halfway through the season after you made it official being boyfriend and girlfriend, a gentle reminder that your his, even if you can’t wear his name on your back.

the team come out for warmups where you move over to sit with cat, the only person to know about your relationship after you and mack had an argument and you had no idea idea who to go to. you crying on her couch however only led to tyler finding out as well.

“told him yet?” she asks, keeping her voice low when turning to you.

“not yet, think he’d kill mack.” you say, cat letting out a small laugh.

“better sooner rather than later though.” she says as you agree, knowing you should tell will, you’re just too nervous.

the sharks end up winning, you quickly head down out of the stands but not before being knocked into a railing by many drunk men. you wince at the pain, feeling your back ache before pushing it to the back of your head. everyone is on a high as they each come out of the locker room, grins wide on their faces. you smile seeing will and mack come out together, will pulling you into a tight hug, wincing but not letting him notice.

“good job will.” you smile, as he pulls away gushing about the game, mack pulling you into a small side hug like usual after games.

will was driving you both home, mack getting a lift from him as well, so you quickly make your ways out to his car, getting in and heading home, deciding not to see any fans today since you were so tired.

“hey, i think im gonna stay at my friends tonight.” you say, and you see mack look up from the backseat through the car mirror.

“yeh, that’s fine,” will smiles before looking over at a red light, “you need a ride?” he asks and you shake your head no.

“nah, she’s coming to pick me up.” you say, mack’s eyes widening before looking back down before will can see.

he drops mack off at the thorntons before driving round to the apartment. your quick inside, going straight to your room, packing some clothes and toiletries in an overnight bag even though you have a few bits already at the guest house.

you move to change out of your jersey and jeans before realising it hurts too much to lift your arms up. you sigh before forgetting about changing and just decide to change your shoes to some sliders and tying your hair up before your phone pings.

mack

i’m outside now baby

you smile, before quickly grabbing your bag and heading out.

“i’ll be back tomorrow will,” you call out to the living room where he’s already in pyjamas movie on with some leftovers.

“message me if you need anything,” he replies before you’re leaving and heading down in the elevator. you leave the complex before spotting macklins car just around the corner from the entrance.

you open the back doors, placing your bag in before moving to the passengers side. you slide in, mack smiling, dressed in his own sweats and a hoodie before frowning at your tshirt.

“thought you would have gotten changed.” he says, as you laugh at how stroppy he gets when you wear wills jersey and not his.

“i lost track of time,” you lie but smile through pretending like you just ran out of time. he changed back to a smile landing over to press his lips to yours.

“mmh,” you hum as he pulls away, “the quicker we get to yours, the quicker i can be in your clothes,” you tease, knowing his favourite thing is seeing you swamped in his clothes.

“don’t need to tell me twice baby,” he whispers against your lips before pressing another kiss to them and pulling away, lacing your hands together.

the drive to his place is quick, letting the radio play softly in the silence of the night, a few cars passing as he makes his way to the thorntons.

he pulls into the driveway before hopping out and grabbing your bag, coming around to swing his arm over your shoulders.

you wince at the pain that runs down your spine at his action, but you manage to play it off before he notices. yous walk around the back through the gate to the guest house, mack unlocking the front door letting you inside.

you slide your shoes off, about to slide off your jacket when you feel macklins arms snake around your waist, his head nestling in your neck.

“i love you baby,” he mumbles against your skin pressing soft kisses up your neck. you tilt your head slightly to give him more access, a soft moan slipping past your lips.

“love you too mack,” you whisper before he’s spinning you around his mouth grazing yours, “god i’ve missed you.” he whispers letting his lips press to yours.

you giggle pulling away, your arms wrapping around his neck, “i saw you like 4 hours ago.” you smile before he’s attaching his lips to yours again.

he groans low in his throat, lifting you effortlessly, like you weigh nothing. your legs wrap around his waist without thinking, as he stumbles backward, dropping down onto the big sectional couch with you in his lap.

“pretty girl,” he whispers, hands running up your jersey, running over your waist.

you arch into him, gasping as his mouth finds yours again, harder this time. his hands shift, one gripping your thigh, the other slipping higher under your jersey, feeling the hunger in him, the way he wants you, real and burning and unstoppable.

“mack,” you moan out, feeling his hand move to squeeze your ass as his lips slip down your neck again.

you shift your hips, grinding down against him, mack by growling, deep and rough, one hand sliding up your back, as he flips you so your laying against the couch, him hovering over top.

that’s when you feel it, the sharp pain run up your spine, all across the middle of your back.

you gasp pulling away and freezing, eyes shut in pain.

he immediately pulls back, hand coming up to cup face

“baby?” his voice calls out, filled with worry, “what’s wrong? talk to me.” his eyes scanning your face for an answer.

“m-my back, shit,” you mumble, “my back hurts.” you get out, open n your eyes to see his face change into an instant state of panic.

“okay, okay, don’t move baby, just stay there.” he says quickly moving off of you, to kneel down beside your head, his hand cradling your cheeks turning your face to look at him.

“where? baby, tell em where it hurts, how bad?” he asks, hands almost hovering, like you are so fragile.

“like the middle of my back, goes up my spine,” you say, mack nodding as he pushes a few strands of hair back out your face, “mack it really hurts.” you whisper, tears springing to your eyes.

“i’m so sorry baby, i-i didn’t meant to hurt you,” he says, voice filled with panic, as his hand shakes gently against your cheeks turning, “ i-i didn’t mean to i just-“ he starts but uh cut him off, grabbing his hand with yours.

“mack, stop.” you say, his rambling coming to a harsh stop at your words, eyes finding yours in confusion, “i got knocked into a rail at the game, didn’t think it was much of an issue.” you mumble, seeing macklin’s jaw tense, not in anger but over how protective he is of you.

“baby, why didn’t you say anything? does will know?” he asks, hands not leaving yours, his thumb brushing ver your knuckles as you shake your head a few tears falling

“i didn’t think it was this bad.” you say, taking a shaky breath.

“ok you stay there, i’ll be back in a minute.” he says quickly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing.

he comes back with an ice pack wrapped in a kitchen towel, a bottle of water and some pills in his hand.

“ok baby, you think you can sit up at all?” he asks, setting them down on the small coffee table table.

you give him a small nod, as he gently helps you to sit up, one hand on your lower back the other on your arm to help.

“take these for me, should help the pain.” he says, handing over the two pills and water. you quickly take them before he’s sitting right where your head was.

he helps you lay back down, sideways, your he’s in his lap, as he gently lifts up your jersey to lay the ice on your back, immediately sighing in relief.

“that better baby?” he asks, one hand holding the ice against your back the other running through your hair, taking out your hair tie.

you nod, wiping your cheeks of the few tears before he’s pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“just relax baby, we’ll leave the ice there for like 20 mins,” he says, eyes still filled with worry, “wanna order some takeout maybe?” he asks and you nod as he fishes his phone his pocket, ordering your go to comfort food.

yous lay there, letting macklin talk about the game, distracting you before the food arrives, mack going out to get it. he helps you to sit up against the couch before going to grab the food. he’s quick, being back and sat next to you pulling out your food.

“hey, do you mind if i get changed first?” you ask, macklin nodding with a soft smile.

“need any help?” he asks and you think for a moment before nodding shyly. he presses a soft kiss to your temple before helping you stand, hands softly on your waist as you walk to his room.

he pulls out some of his sweats and hoodie, helping you out of your jeans and jersey before slipping the sweatpants on.

“want your bra off baby?” he asks as you nod, a small blush coming across your cheeks. he gives you a comforting smile before quickly unclasping your bra, seeing a large bruise starting to form across your back.

“if it gets worse in the morning we’ll have to go to the doctors i think baby, looks pretty bad.” he sighs, fingers grazing over the bruise.

“i think it’s just a bump, i should be fine.” you say, giving him a reassuring smile before he carefully slides on the hoodie.

“that better?” he asks, hands cradling your cheeks, and you nod.

“come on then, we’ll go eat.” he smiles, offering you a hand to help you up over to the couch. setting back against the cushions, you lift your feet up to lay across mack’s lap, one hand running up your legs as you both eat.

he plays some disney movie, a comfort thing for both of you, placing the empty dishes on the coffee table when his phone starts ringing.

wills name across the screen.

“don’t you dare.” you glare across the mack but not quick enough as he’s reaching across and answering the face time.

“hey will,” he says slightly nervous.

“hey, just wondering is y/n has contacted you? i just bumped into her friend when picking up some food, says she’s not staying with her? i’m getting worried, she’s not answering.” will says slightly panicked as mack’s eyes drift over to you.

you shake your head, sending him another glare before wills voice is coming out through the phone

“macklin? do you know something?” he asks, before mack mouths ‘in sorry,’ you sighing.

“she’s here will, perfectly safe.” macklin says, short and sweet before a moment of silence.

“why’s she with you? is she ok?” he asks rushed again, hearing shuffling on the other end.

“she’s fine, here.” he says, flipping the camera to show you.

you awkwardly wave after hearing another silence.

“is that your hoodie?” he asks, stopping moving as you look down seeing yourself wearing a sharks hoodie.

“uh yeh i think so,” macklin nervously laughs, turning the camera back to himself.

“i swear to god macklin, you better not be fucking my sister.” will says and your eye widen immediately knowing that tone, a one he uses very rarely.

“hey dude, it’s not like-“ macklin starts but wills quick to cut him off.

“no, don’t fucking dude me. what the fuck man? i said one rule, my sisters out of bounds. i’m on my way over.” he says, nearly shouting down the phone before handing up.

you immediately try to move standing up, wincing a little.

“i need to go, need to talk to will.” you say trying to move around but each step is building the pain.

“y/n, stop.” macklin says firmly, taking your shoulders in his hands, holding you in place, “we would have had to tell him at some point, now just seems like the time.” macklin says as you nod hesitantly.

you take a breath before moving to sit back on the couch, macklin trying to tidy things up a bit, as much as wills his best friend, right now he’s the brother of his girlfriend, needs to make a good impression.

you snap out of your day dream hearing angry knocks the door. you see mack take a breath, himself, before opening it, immediately being met with a smack across the face.

“what the fuck macklin.” will shouts, you immediately panicking.

“will stop please.” you plead from the couch, his eyes flickering to yours before back to macklin.

“do you know how wrong this is, you betrayed me macklin, i said, no messing with my sister and you just went and did it anyway?” he shouts, macklin coming back strong.

the arguing goes back and forwards between the two as you start to see a small red mark appear on his face. it just keeps intensifying, as you feel yourself tear up becoming too overwhelmed.

you quickly grab your phone and slip out, neither of them releasing, moving to sit on the curb, forgetting about the pain and shakily calling cat.

it only takes a few rings before she’s picking up, her voice coming through.

“y/n?” she asks, voice tired, probably just woke her up.

“cat?” you ask, your voice wavering and you hear her immediately sitting up, more attentive.

“y/n? what’s wrong?” she asks, as you hear tys voice in the back.

“it’s will and mack, he found out and they’re arguing, i-i just i need to get away.” you say, a few tears falling, hearing her move, grabbing some keys by the jingling noise.

“y/n im on my way, you at mack’s?” she asks as you let out a small ‘yeh’, before she’s hanging up the phone immediately driving over.

you curl up on the curb, letting the tears fall freely before a cars pulling up outside, cat and tyler immediately coming over.

“i don’t know what happened, will came in, hit back and they just started arguing.” you rush out, cat pulling you in for a tight hug, tyler immediately going out back to cool off the two boys.

“come on, you can stay at ours for the night.” cat smiles, wiping your cheeks before leading you to the car, letting you in the passenger seat before driving away, saying tyler will be a while.

she drives you back to their house, letting you inside before leading you up to the guest bedroom, both of you sitting on the bed.

“he’ll get over it trust me, probably just a bit of a shock.” cat says, offering a sympathetic smile, you shrugging.

“i’ve never seen him like that, neither of them, i thought he was actually gonna like really hurt him.” you say, voice getting small, at the thought.

her phone bings, a message from tyler.

“wills bringing him back home, you wanna speak to him?” she asks and you think for a second before nodding.

“yeh, but if it’s ok, i’ll still stay here tonight i think.” you say as she nods, before leaving, giving you some privacy.

it isnt long before there’s some soft knocks at the door, before opening it to show wills face peaking in. you see him hesitate to say something before moving inside, perching at the end of the bed.

he looks up and that’s when you can see the black eye forming on his face.

“i don’t like it when you yell.” you whisper, his face softening. he moved to be sat beside you against the headboard, letting his head fall back.

“if it cheers you up, i think he won.” he mumbles making you chuckle slightly.

you turn your body to face him better, wincing slightly at your back.

“you know i love him right?” you ask, his head falling sideways to look at you.

“yeh, think i got that, and i think i understand he loves you too, especially after this,” he says motioning his black eye, making you chuckle slightly, “but you also know i love you right?” he asks sitting up better.

“yeh, i know,” you smile resting your head on his shoulder.

“and i guess i could be cool with it, like you and mack,” he says, fighting a small smile on his face, “but if you hurts you, he’ll never forget it on the ice ok?” he says and you nod, just enjoying the peace for a second.

“he said you hurt your back, why didn’t you say anything?” he asks, you pulling your head back up to look at him.

“i didn’t think much of it to be honest, just got in the way of some drunk men.” you say seeing his jaw tense in a little bit of anger towards the men not you.

“how are you feeling now?” he asks, eyes searching your face for any lies.

“better, mack iced it but still hurts a bit.” you admit, will thinking for a second before nodding letting out a soft sigh.

“message me tomorrow yeh? if it’s still bad ill drive you to the doctors, i dont have morning skate so im free.” he says you smiling with a small nod.

“as you later baby sis.” he smiles, pressing a quick kiss to your head before turning to leave.

“wait, will?” you call out, him turning over his shoulder, “you didn’t hurt mack right?” you ask, concern laced through your voice.

he gives a soft chuckle before shaking his head, “nah, trust me i got it worse and im still walking, i got barely any punches in.” he says, as you try to hide a smile but seem to fail.

“wow, even my sister isn’t on my side.” he teases, a wide grin on his own face, “but maybe call him, or message? i think he’s a bit worried.” he says as you nod before he leaves.

you look over to your phone, having had it turned off all night, quickly entering your password to see missed calls and texts from both will and mack.

you hesitantly press the facetime button in mack’s contact, his face popping onto the screen straight away.

“oh my god baby, are you ok?” he panics, and you take in his appearance, only a small red mark that’s already fading from where will smacked him but his eyes red rimmed like he’d been crying.

“no mack, im ok please don’t worry,” you say but you can still see his face full of concern, “i just got a bit overwhelmed, i don’t like people arguing.” you mumble, resting you head on your hand.

“i’m sorry, i-“ he starts before taking a breath, “i really love you, and i wasn’t gonna let him come between us ok? your brother my best friend none of that would stop what we have ok?” he says and you nod a soft smile on your face.

“you love me so much that your willing to punch my brother in the eye?” you ask as he feeezes, eyes wide.

“so you’ve spoken to him?” he mumbles as you laugh.

“well, i’ve seen him and that was enough.” you say, macklin smiling himself.

“hey, i’d do anything for you baby.” he smiles, your heart fluttering a bit.

“i know macky.”

[mercvry-glow]

staying is harder than leaving

parings. jack abbot x reader

summary. you'll never understand what brings you back to jack abbot, all you know is that you want to stay.

warnings. age gap (jake late 40s reader early 30s), bitter sweet, reader and jack are really bad at feelings, mention/illusions of sex, mentions of smoking and cigarettes, overall just a bit angsty with a soft fulfilling ending, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. I'm so sorry this was all I could get out, but I'm pretty happy with it. I'm like the danny mcbride of angst, everything has closure in one way or another and it's always a good feeling at the end. as always any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 3200+

You didn’t know how you got here.

Lying in the bed of a man you had no business being with. Not really. Not ever.

Jack Abbot wasn’t the kind of man people fell into by accident—he was deliberate, sharp-edged, the type you saw coming and still couldn’t avoid. Older. Hardened by the Army and the ER and everything they took from him. Gruff in the way only someone who’s cared too much and been burned for it could be.

And your boss.

He was supposed to be off-limits. But lines blurred late at night—between empty hospital corridors and frantic hands, between the quiet moments when he looked at you like you were the only thing holding him together.

Maybe it was the sex. Maybe it was the way he let his guard down in fragments only you got to see. Maybe it was the ache in your chest that whispered this was more than just bodies colliding.

But whatever it was, it was getting harder to breathe in his space without losing a part of yourself.

The room was dark, swallowed whole by the blackout curtains. Still, you could feel the hour—it was too early for anything but regret.

Jack was asleep, sprawled on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow, the blanket barely covering his hips. His back was turned to you, freckled and scarred, every mark a map of a life lived hard.

You’d spent too many nights like this. Drawing constellations across his skin with your fingers, trying to make sense of something that never really did. Pretending he was yours. Pretending you weren’t drowning in the quiet.

But now, with your heart thudding too loud in your ears and the stillness pressing in, reality came creeping.

Your skin prickled with the kind of unease that settled deep—shame curling tight in your throat, dread rising like smoke.

You didn’t belong here. Not in his bed. Not in his life.

And deep down, you knew—he was never going to stop you from leaving. Not because he didn’t care.

But because he didn’t know how to ask you to stay.

It was overwhelming how much you felt for him. How much more you wanted to feel. And the worst part was having nowhere productive to put it.

You were just as much a workaholic as he was—another lifer in the ER, made of pure grit and sleepless nights, proud of the scars you earned under fluorescent lights.

The golden R4 of night shift. Jack’s prodigy, the way Frank had been Robby’s. People used to joke that you were cut from the same cloth as Jack—sarcastic, unflinching, impossible to impress. You’d hated how right they were.

Because somewhere along the way, he stopped being just your mentor.

 And you stopped pretending you didn’t want more.

What you had wasn’t exactly a secret, but it sure as hell wasn’t something, either. At least, not in the daylight.

You weren’t his girlfriend. You weren’t his anything, besides a damn good doctor. Just someone who knew what to say when he couldn’t talk. Someone who understood the blood-soaked language of trauma. Someone who stayed long after her shift ended because she didn’t want to go home alone.

And it was killing you.

Piece by piece.

Because in the quiet moments like this—before the rest of the world stirred, before the next shift started—you wanted to reach for him. Say something stupid like Don’t let me leave again… Or I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t love you.

But you couldn’t. Because you already knew how Jack operated.

He let you in just far enough and then he shut the door, quiet and clean. Like it had never opened in the first place.

Your eyes burned, your chest heavy with unsaid things.

The same weight it always carried. 

You shifted under the covers, moving slowly, carefully—like if you breathed too loudly, this entire illusion might crack open. Jack didn’t stir. His breathing was steady, slow.

You watched him for a moment longer, memorizing the way his jaw slackened in sleep, the faint scar above his left shoulder blade you never had the nerve to ask about.

He looked peaceful like this. Human.

And that only made it harder.

You slipped out of bed as quietly as you could, bare feet hitting the cold floor, limbs stiff and aching. Every inch of your body protested—tired, sore, reluctant to leave him. 

But your heart was louder.

You bent to collect your clothes off the floor, holding your breath, hoping he wouldn’t wake up. Because if he did—if he so much as whispered your name—

You didn’t trust yourself not to stay.

All you slipped on was a loose t-shirt—his, you realized halfway through pulling it over your head. It hung off one shoulder, collar stretched from too many late nights and maybe a few desperate hands.

You didn’t have it in you to put on the rest.

Just the pair of panties you’d had on hours ago, still faintly wrinkled from where they’d been discarded in the dark.

You needed a cigarette. God, you needed a cigarette.

You weren’t even a regular smoker, not really. But nights like this—mornings like this—you craved one. Not for the nicotine. For the ritual. For something slow and quiet and burning between your fingers to focus on instead of the way your chest felt like it was caving in.

You padded out of the room silently, careful not to step on the floorboard near the dresser that always creaked. The hallway was cold. Sparse. A stark contrast to the warmth of the bed you just left.

Jack’s apartment was neat, lived-in but impersonal. A few books shoved onto the built-in shelf. Stacks of old med journals. A photo of him and Michael on some fishing trip ages ago, both of them sunburnt and squinting and younger than you’d ever seen Jack look.

You bypassed the kitchen, went straight for the balcony. Slid the door open just enough to squeeze through.

The city was still asleep. Pittsburgh before sunrise had a strange, almost sacred hush to it—still full of steel and ghosts.

You leaned your elbows on the railing, the hem of Jack’s shirt fluttering around your thighs in the early morning breeze.

You didn’t even have a cigarette. Just the craving.

The silence. The ache.

You let your eyes slip shut for a second, trying to slow your breathing.

Tried not to think about how badly you wanted this to be something it wasn’t. How stupidly, hopelessly in love you might be with him. And how deeply you hated yourself for it.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, bare legs prickling against the morning chill, teeth gently worrying your bottom lip. The city stretched out below—silent, gray, and endless.

It was terrifying how much you wanted him.

Not just his hands, not just the way he whispered your name when he was too tired to keep up the act. You wanted all the messy, sharp-edged parts of him. The things he buried beneath sarcasm and coffee and barking orders in trauma bay one.

You wanted the man who rolled his eyes at residents but stayed a few hours after his harder shifts ended to check on critical but recovering patients. The man who never flinched in chaos but looked like he might unravel every time you brushed your fingers through his curly hair.

And you hated that he had no idea. Or worse—he did, and chose to ignore it.

Because you weren’t asking for everything. You would’ve settled for something.

Something real. Something honest.

Even just a reason to stay.

You let out a shaky breath and rubbed at your arms, suddenly aware of just how little you were wearing—and how much that shirt still smelled like him. Soap and antiseptic. Jack Abbot in every thread.

You were so lost in your head you didn’t hear the door slide open.

“Thought you were gone.”

His voice was low. Rough with sleep. And somehow still managed to scrape down your spine like he meant it to.

You didn’t turn around right away. Just stared out at the skyline, eyes burning. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

Silence stretched for a beat. Two. You could feel him behind you, the weight of his presence like gravity.

“You didn’t.” He sounded closer now. “You cold?”

You shrugged, not trusting your voice.

Jack stepped beside you, his hand brushing your elbow, the warmth of his skin startling after the chill. He didn’t say anything. Just stood there.

Looking at you like he wasn’t sure what you were doing out here. Like maybe he was afraid to ask.

Like maybe he already knew.

And it would’ve been so easy to say nothing. To go back inside. To pretend.

But pretending was starting to feel like slow suffocation.

The silence stretched, long and taut, like the few inches between your bodies were holding back something massive—unspoken, unbearable.

Your arms stayed crossed over your chest, but your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like it might anchor you. The wind picked up slightly, brushing your hair across your face, but you didn’t move to fix it.

You blinked hard. Once. Twice. But it didn’t stop the way your throat tightened or how your eyes blurred at the edges.

You weren’t even sure why you were crying.

Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was standing next to someone who could make you feel so much and give you so little in return.

Maybe it was the way he was looking at you now—concern buried beneath the usual guarded expression, like he knew something was wrong and didn’t know how to fix it.

Your chin wobbled, just barely, and you tried to suck in a breath. Swallow it down. Pretend it wasn’t happening. But then your shoulders hitched, and the first quiet sob slipped out before you could stop it.

“Shit,” you muttered, brushing at your face, willing yourself to hold it together. “God, I’m sorry—just—ignore me. It’s fine.”

But Jack didn’t move. Didn’t walk away.

He was still as stone beside you, until he suddenly wasn’t.

You felt it before you saw it—the weight of his arm slipping around your shoulders, pulling you into the warmth of his chest like he didn’t even think about it. Like it was instinct.

You froze at first, breath caught mid-sob, body stiff. But he didn’t let go.

His other hand came up slowly to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, cradling you gently—like you might shatter if he held you any other way.

“You’re not fine,” he murmured against your temple. “Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me, not here.”

You let yourself fold into him then, tears soaking into his shirt—his damn shirt—your hands fisting into the fabric like it might hold you together.

And for a minute, he just held you.

No tension. No boundaries. No pretending.

Just Jack. Warm and quiet and there.

You didn’t know how long he held you.

Long enough for the sobs to taper off into something softer—just a tremble in your chest, the occasional sniff as your face pressed against his collarbone.

Jack hadn’t said anything else. He didn’t need to. His hands had found their way to your back, slow and steady, like he was grounding you the way you’d done for him more times than you could count.

You were the one who finally pulled back. Not far—just enough to see his face.

The early morning light caught the edge of his jaw, the tired lines under his eyes, the hint of wariness there. Always. You could practically hear his thoughts spinning—calculating, retreating.

You could see him closing the door already.

So you asked quietly, breaking the hush between you both: “Do you ever think about what we’re doing?”

It wasn’t accusing. It wasn’t dramatic.

Just honest.

His brow furrowed slightly. His hands didn’t move from your back. “You mean... right now?”

You gave a small, tired laugh. “No. I mean this. Us. What this is.”

Jack was quiet again. But his jaw tightened. That always came first with him—before the words, before the honesty. His body braced like he was expecting a blow.

“I try not to,” he said finally, voice low. Raw. “Because if I do, it scares the hell out of me.”

Your heart stuttered at that.

He looked away, gaze fixed on some point out across the balcony railing. “I’m not good at this,” he added. “I’ve never been. And with you…” His throat bobbed, the muscles in his neck tensing. “It’s not casual. Not for me.”

You stared at him, not sure if you’d heard him right.

“It hasn’t been for a long time,” he said, softer now. “I just didn’t know how to tell you without ruining it.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Like something in your chest had split open, but not in the way that hurt.

“Jack…” you whispered.

He looked at you then. Really looked at you. And for the first time, he wasn’t guarded.

Wasn’t hiding.

Just a man, standing barefoot on a balcony at five in the morning, holding the only person who had ever made him want to try again.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said. “But I don’t know how to keep you either.”

You didn’t say anything at first. You just watched him.

Jack Abbot—brilliant, maddening, insufferably closed-off Jack—was finally cracking open, right in front of you. And not because you pried him apart. Not because you caught him in a weak moment.

Because he chose to.

And God, that scared you. Maybe even more than the silence had.

You swallowed, voice still hoarse from crying. “I wasn’t going to come back after last time.”

Jack blinked. “What?”

You gave a small, sad smile. “After that shift where I got pulled to peds… You didn’t say a word to me for almost 48 hours. Didn’t even look at me unless someone else was around. I told myself I was done.”

Jack ran a hand over his face, guilt flashing across it like a burn. “I remember.”

“I thought maybe I imagined all of it,” you whispered. “Everything between us. That maybe I made it into something it wasn’t just because I wanted it to be.”

His hazel eyes met yours, sharp and searching. “You didn’t imagine it.”

Your chest pulled tight.

“Every time I shut down, every time I pulled away—” He shook his head, jaw clenching. “It wasn’t because I didn’t feel it. It was because I did. Too much.”

That silence came again, but this time it wasn’t as heavy.

You leaned your hip against the railing, arms still folded loosely, the edge of his shirt catching in the breeze. “Then why push me away?”

“Because if I let myself want this…” He exhaled like the words tasted bitter. “If I let myself want you—then it’s real. And if it’s real, it’s not just sex or more shared shifts… Or a warm body in my bed when the world’s too loud. It’s something I could fuck up.”

You stared at him, something raw blooming beneath your ribs.

“You’re not fucking it up,” you said quietly. “But you will if you keep treating me like I’m  something to be afraid of.”

Jack didn’t answer at first. Just looked at you with something unspoken in his eyes—hope or regret or maybe both.

“I don’t know how to be what you deserve,” he said finally. “But I want to try.”

You let the words hang there. Let yourself feel them.

Then, slowly, you reached out—your hand finding his, fingers curling around the calloused warmth of it. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He looked down at your joined hands like it was the first time he’d been touched. Then back at you.

“Then stay,” he said, voice rough. Barely a whisper. “Just… stay.”

He didn’t say another word.

Just looked at you—eyes tired, earnest, open in a way you’d almost forgotten he could be. And then he laced his fingers fully with yours, squeezing gently like a silent promise.

Then, without fanfare, he turned and led you back inside.

The balcony door slid shut behind you, sealing out the cool morning air and the hum of the waking city. Everything inside was still—soft shadows spilling across the floor, quiet warmth clinging to the apartment walls like it had soaked into the bones of the place.

Jack didn’t let go of your hand. Not even when you passed through the living room. Not when your bare feet padded across the hardwood. Not when the bedroom door came into view.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t speak.

He just brought you to the bed—unmade, sheets rumpled, still heavy with the weight of what had happened between you hours before.

But this time, he didn’t pull you down onto it like he usually would.

This time, he turned to face you fully, and with the same careful touch he used when someone flatlined under his hands, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m not good at a lot of things,” he murmured, voice so low it barely carried in the stillness. “But I’ll be better. If you let me.”

You nodded, throat thick, and he bent to press a kiss to your forehead—tender, reverent. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for anything. That just was.

Then he gently guided you down with him, one arm curled around your waist as he pulled the covers over both of you.

There was no urgency. No edge. Just the press of his body behind yours, solid and warm and present.

His hand rested at your hip, not possessive, just there. His breathing evened out slowly, and after a while, so did yours.

You didn’t say anything else.

You didn’t have to.

Jack’s breath was warm against the back of your neck, steady now, like the storm had passed through him and left something quieter in its wake.

You shifted just enough to turn toward him, your nose brushing his chest. He looked down at you through half-lidded eyes, sleep tugging at the edges of both of you, but neither quite ready to let go.

You watched each other in that stillness. No shields. No walls. Just two people, bruised in all the same places, finally giving in.

His hand came up to your cheek, thumb brushing gently beneath your eye, as if to wipe away what your tears had left behind. You leaned into the touch without thinking, heart slow and aching.

Then, slowly—like he was asking permission with every breath—he kissed you.

Soft at first. Barely there. A whisper of a promise pressed to your lips.

Then deeper. Warmer. Like he was pouring every word he hadn’t said into the shape of your mouth. It wasn’t hungry or hurried. It didn’t ask for anything more.

It just was.

When he finally pulled back, you were still close enough to feel the words rumble against his chest.

“Sleep,” he whispered. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, and you aren’t either.”

The last thing you saw before your eyes fluttered closed was the faintest trace of sunrise creeping through the edge of the blackout curtains—soft, golden light spilling into the room like forgiveness.

And with his arms around you, breath synced with yours, you let it pull you under.

For once, you didn’t fight it.

You just stayed.

mercvry-glow 2025

[ruinix]

God I might get in trouble for saying this but when I say I need to worship the man that is quinn hughes I mean it!

Hello, lovely. Here, you will never be in trouble, coz it is Quinn who will be in trouble for existing and being hot. 🙂‍↕️ This should be a simple thought….but….it became a full drabble. [This thot is also inspired by an excerpt i saw in Instagram (see at the end)] Severely no BETA. It is 3AM when i finish it.

Burning Touches

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Hurt/Comfort (you’ll know when you get there. SORRY.), Body worship (m!receving), Teasing, Unprotected Sex (protections, please. It’s important, lovely), Overstimulation (m), Quinn is being pathetic (kinda subby if you squint. He is definitely. / Switch notes) or he is just too weak for you 😉

Count: 1716 words | Masterlist

Quinn shivers the moment your hands finally touch his skin after hours of you tracing soft circles over his shirt. His hands grip the sheets to prevent himself from breaking his promise not to pounce on you and let you do what you want to do, because he will. He’s so close when all he can see is you on top of him.

Your eyes are glazed as you pour every bit of your attention on him.

The longer this goes on, the more he yearns for it. Every second, every minute, every hour, every day. That is all he wants. Him occupying your mind, because you occupy his. Every fucking day of the year.

When your finger slips under the hem of his shirt, he groans, nearly jumping at how quickly your eyes meet his, falling to his throat like you’ve marked the very sound that came straight from his fucking soul. Because it truly did. He’s fully bare. All his soul. All his body even fully clothed. All his mind. Every inch of him is at your mercy.

Then up, up and up, your hand travels. You purposely scratch your nails on his skin, marking and staking your claim with streaks. Physically temporary. Mentally permanent. Do you realize that? Every scratch you’ve made on his body is forever ingrained in his soul. Every single one.

All he can do is moan, pathetically thrusting his hips up for relief that he’s not at all getting because you aren’t sitting on his cock. Just on his thighs. His fucking thighs that are covered by his fucking sweatpants. Damn it.

‘Just why didn’t he just wear his boxers? Why did he pick these sweatpants after the shower? Just why?’ he hounds past self.

"Take it off, Quinn," you order, bringing him back to his reality.

You don’t need to expound. He understands, quickly sitting up, tugging his shirt with one hand, whimpering like a fool when you climbed off him so he can also remove his pants and briefs. His heart is aching at the smallest distance from you standing off the bed, your hands behind you. Too far. You’re too far. You shouldn’t be this far away from him. This shouldn’t be allowed.

You’re just two feet away, but it feels like you’re on the other side of a cliff where the connecting bridge has rotted and broken from the middle, effectively not letting him cross when all he needs is to be stuck to your skin. It won’t matter to him if there will be a deadly drop of sharp stone edges or a raging river. He will climb down—jump down if necessary—and crawl his way up to get to you. He needs you.

Despite his need, he only stares as he burns. He’s on fire as your burning-yet-dazed eyes soak in every detail of his body, taking your time. From his tousled hair, to the strands falling on his temple, to his slightly overgrown beard, to his shoulders, to his chest, to his abs, to his leaking cock, to his legs, down to his fucking toes. That makes him squirm, sitting back down with weak knees, his breaths coming in harder and harder.

His cock twitches when your eyes land on it. When your tongue darts out to sensually lick your lower lip, he falls further down steps of insanity. It hurts. His cock aches. So much. He needs to be touched by you. He needs to be fucked by you. He needs you more than ever.

Yet he sits, because he needs you to see how good he can be. For you.

 So good as he silently gazes at you, yearning for nothing more but your slightest touch.

"Just one touch. Please. Please. My Love," is the plea that got stuck at the tip of his tongue. The plea that he hopes you can see in his eyes, in the way he trembles. You must see him. He begs you to see.

The relief he feels when you step forward, crossing the impossible distance, is overflowing. Then you touch him, your palm meeting his chest, pushing so gently yet firmly. He fucking whines. You touched him. Now, he’s shaking even more. Too rattled. The anticipation is getting too much that his eyes burn from unshed tears. He can barely think as he follows your wordless order. He moves back to lay down. He gasps when you mount him. A lazy smile on your pretty face makes his chest tighten.

Why are you so beautiful? You are literally glowing. It’s probably the warm light of the lamps that you’ve carefully picked that made his house a home for both of you.  Yeah, the lights. But it’s you. You glow because you’re you. You glow because you are the light of his life.

A beacon that saves him in the darkness of nights.

No matter how exhausted he is—from the game losses, from the harsh speculations about him leaving, from the coldness of his teammates, his friends, being moved, from the cruel reality that his happiness doesn’t—or won’t ever—matter in the team after he gave everything for the team—you’re there to make it all better.

Oh, he’s lucky to have you.

His love.

He only realizes that he is silently crying when your thumbs brush away his tears, when you lean down and start to kiss the falling drops. You’re here. Always.A broken sob finally escapes him when you press your forehead against his. No words or permissions need to be said. He brings his arms around you as he seeks more comfort. The heated moment takes a pause. He cries because he needs to let it out and you know that.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleads. “Ever.”

“I won’t,” you immediately reply with no hesitation. “I’m here.”

“Again.” He tightens his hold.

“I’m here.”You squeeze your thighs against his sides, putting your weight on his chest, to ground him. It works. It always does. You repeat, “I’m here, Quinn.”

He cries and cries. He feels so vulnerable and so safe. He can be who he is, feel what he feels, break when he needs to, because you will always walk beside him, stop with him, wait with him as he gathers his pieces back together. You see him. All of him.

And he sees you.

He loves that he matches everything you give him. He will never be tired of doing so.

For minutes you two stay like that. Holding one another. Until his tears dry. Until he purges all the negativity with the help of your light that guides and that incinerates what needs to be gone. Until all that’s left is him still being absolutely fucking horny. His cock is begging for release as you softly rub your pussy over him, so slowly, so deliberate, because you know that his need is now different.

You press soft kisses all over his face, neglecting his lips where he needs it the most. Your hands slowly guide his to the headboard where he understands it should stay. He gulps and grips the bar. Shivers run down his spine because you don’t move to secure his wrists with the shackles dangling there for him to use on you or for you to use on him. Now, it’s for the latter, but you don’t use it. You simply trust him to keep his hands there. He won’t betray your trust. Not ever.

You kiss him lower. To every part of his body that you took your time drinking in earlier. He burns and burns and burns. So much more that you are touching him. Your lips ignite goosebumps on his skin, your tongue darting out to taste every bead of sweat that appears.

Your silent yet so loud repeated and cycling murmurs strum the strings of his soul, “You’re beautiful. You’re handsome. You’re strong. You’re amazing. You’re clever. You’re tenacious. You’re the very best.”

So affirming.

So touching.

He feels worshiped. Every kiss, every lick, every word affirms him. He feels loved. You love him. Only fool would be blind to that fact. Quinn is not a fool.

So, for every compliment, he answers, “I love you.”

Even if you don’t need to, once or twice, you reciprocate, “I love you too.”

When you kiss every exposed inch of him except for his lips and cock, you move up his body with more. Only now, your kisses are more of bites than kisses like you want to eat him.

You are eating him.

And instead of ‘I love you’s, while his knuckles are turning white as he grips the bar harder that he feels his arms cramping, his soul reverberating with every beat of his heart, he says “Please. Bite down harder.”

He needs you to leave bruises.

He needs you to break into his skin and make him bleed.

He needs you to swallow the slightest drops of blood of him.

He needs it so much.

Then, instead of compliments, you chuckle against his skin. Your eyes twinkle as you meet his pleading eyes. You murmur, mocking him, “Oh, you would like that, huh, Handsome?”

You won’t leave marks.

Not even the slightest imprint of your teeth. Not even the slightest discoloring for a hickey.

Not when he begs and whines and whimpers. Not when you sink your pussy down his cock. Not even when you fuck him after telling him not to move. Not when your pussy clenches around him so hard that he comes for you.

Over and over again.

However, when his mind is raw and fuzzy from how much you milk his cock that he can’t physically come anymore and when a tear of frustration escapes him, you finally bite down hard into his neck until his skin breaks.

Pain and pleasure shoot down his exhausted body. His cock twitches, aching and wanting to come but nothing comes out.

He is blacking out, his hands letting go of the bar, falling on the bed, not even going around you. He’s so spent.

Any noise is getting muffled, yet he hears your breathless and exhausted words so clearly.

“Such a good boy, Quinn. You did so well for me.”

The excerpt (I fear I got no link to source because I only screenshotted it days ago and it didn't leave my head one bit):

Good night 💙💙💙 I love you, sweeties, lovelies.

[guilty-ff]

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲:

𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧!𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞 𝐱 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Dante agrees to help a friend study anatomy, nothing serious, just muscle names and touch. But with every brush of her fingers, keeping it together gets harder.

Pairing: Dante x Fem!Reader

Genre: Friends-to-lovers, slow burn, virgin!Dante, Oneshot

Rating: Mature, MDNI

Warnings: Flustered Dante, abs touching, sexual tension, virgin!Dante panic, reader accidentally seductive

It started with a study session.

You had a practical coming up in your anatomy module, and none of your classmates were willing to sit still long enough to be used as a reference. At least not without trying to flirt, interrupt, or act like it was a date.

So, in a fit of frustration, you’d turned to Dante.

He owed you one anyway. After dragging you into some hell-infested warehouse last week and laughing when a demon nearly snapped your leg, he’d promised to “make it up to you however you want.”

Apparently, that meant letting you use him like a very warm, very sculpted anatomy model.

He hadn’t expected it to get this serious, though.

You arrived at his place with your textbooks, notes, a clipboard, and a quiet intensity that made it very clear: you weren’t here to mess around.

“No flirting,” you’d told him before even sitting down. “No smug comments. You’re basically a living skeleton today.”

He’d rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath but he behaved. Sat down. Took his shirt off. Let you study him like he was just another diagram.

That was the idea, anyway.

Now, kneeling beside him, you were already diving into shoulder anatomy with practiced ease, naming structures, examining muscle groups, sketching notations in your book like he was just a chart.

And Dante?

Dante was trying not to combust.

He really should’ve said no.

Not because he didn’t want her touching him- hell no, he wanted that more than he wanted to admit but because he hadn’t realized how hard it was gonna be to pretend it didn’t matter.

But he obeyed.

It was slow. Careful. Methodical.

Torturous.

Her touch was light, careful, dragging over the shape of his shoulders and upper back, pressing into his deltoids, tracing the curve of his biceps. She’d even had the nerve to ask him to flex.

He’d flexed.

“Long head of the triceps brachii connects here,” she murmured, her fingertip brushing the inside of his arm. “Crosses the shoulder joint and anchors along the infraglenoid tubercle of the scapula.”

Her voice was calm, clinical. Completely professional.

Meanwhile, Dante was ready to dig his own grave.

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his breathing steady, staring at the floor like it owed him something.

She was close. Too close. Her breath brushed over his skin every time she leaned in. He could smell her shampoo. Could feel her knees brushing his thighs as she shifted.

And she didn’t have a damn clue what it was doing to him.

“Relax,” she said gently, noticing the tension in his shoulders.

Dante forced out a laugh. “Yeah. Easy for you to say, doc. You’re not sittin’ half-naked while someone pokes around like they’re lookin’ for buried treasure.”

She giggled, actually giggled, and pokes his arm lightly.

“I appreciate you letting me do this, you know.”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah. Anytime.”

He meant it. Even if he was dying inside.

She moved lower, fingers drifting across his sides. “Okay. Let’s take a look at the abdominal region.”

His breath hitched.

She didn’t notice.

Not when she shifted again, this time kneeling directly in front of him, her thighs brushing his legs, face level with his stomach. Not when she leaned forward and pushed his arm aside to get a better angle. Not when her fingers found his lower ribs and followed them down.

Dante froze.

Her hands were warm. Gentle. Focused.

They slid over the ridges of his abs, tracing the line of the rectus muscles, fingertips dragging with maddening slowness toward his navel.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

He’s wrestled with demons all his life, but this time, the ones inside him were winning. His body betrayed him, hardening in his jeans so fast it hurt, blood rushing south like it had a death wish.

And she was right there.

So close her knuckles nearly brushed the top of his waistband. So close she could see everything he didn’t want her to see.

Well... no, that was a lie.

He did want her to see. Just… not like this.

She tilted her head, oblivious.

“The external obliques run from here...” she touched his side, just above his hipbone, “...up to the lower ribs. They assist in rotation and lateral flexion. Can you twist a little to your right?”

He did, barely, but the motion tightened every muscle in his stomach, and his erection twitched in his jeans, aching.

Dante cursed under his breath.

“Did that hurt?” she asked, immediately concerned.

“No,” he said too quickly. “No, I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

His palms were sweating. His jaw was locked so tight it ached. And if she moved her hand even an inch lower...

“Hey, uh.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “Maybe we… stop there?”

She blinked. “I haven’t gone over the lower attachments yet. I still need to trace the linea alba and-”

“Trust me,” he cut in, voice strained, “you don’t.”

There was a pause.

Then her eyes flicked down.

It only took a second, a second to realize what she was looking at.

Her gaze snapped back up to his face, wide-eyed, cheeks blooming scarlet.

Dante cursed softly and dropped his head into his hand. “Shit.”

“I-I didn’t mean-” she stammered, voice small. “I wasn’t trying to make you-”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know you weren’t. It’s not your fault.”

She didn’t move. Neither did he.

The air between them felt thick. Quiet. Loaded.

“You’re…” She hesitated. “You’re really warm.”

He laughed, hoarse. “Yeah, well. That happens when you’re turned on.”

She inhaled sharply.

Dante groaned, pressing his palm over his face. “God. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” she whispered.

He looked at her.

She wasn’t laughing. She wasn’t pulling away. She was just...staring. Flushed and breathless and maybe just as rattled as he was.

“Because,” he said, more quietly now. “Because I’m your friend. And I didn’t wanna make this weird.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. Then:

“…Have you ever…?”

He blinked. “Ever what?”

“Done this,” she said softly. “Been with someone.”

Dante swallowed, throat dry. “No.”

Her eyes searched his.

He shrugged, suddenly very interested in the floor. “Didn’t wanna fuck it up, I guess.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said immediately. “You wouldn’t.”

Something in her voice made him glance back up.

She looked nervous. Hesitant. But not scared.

Not running.

“Dante,” she said, voice barely above a whisper, “can I…?”

He didn’t answer with words.

He just leaned in: slow, scared, shaking and let his forehead rest against hers.

The kiss didn’t come yet.

But it could.

It was there, waiting.

And maybe, if she leaned in a little more…

Part 2

[the-internets-girlfriend]

Secrets in Doncaster: Part 4 - George Clarke

George Clarke x Y/N (1700+ words)

A soccer Saturday in Doncaster is spent laughing and drinking with friends... and the occasionally minion. However, can a secret go viral?

warnings: alcohol consumption, creating bets, swearing, a grumpy minion.

series | masterlist | previous part | next part

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"As we go into a Weatherspoons with a camera crew."

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The minute we sat down at our next pub, we were swarmed - by fans, locals, people just trying to figure out what the fuss was about.

Chris had suggested finding a secluded table in the corner for a bit of privacy - but if there was one thing we didn't get, it was that.

The crowd grew larger, the space between them and our table shrinking until it was hard to even push my chair back from the table.

"This is a bit mental - isn't it?" Arthur Hill said, as he, Chris, and I huddled into a tight circle over the table, the camera pointed at us.

"Yeah, this is a bit insane." Chris replied, glancing around with a look that was hard to read - but he definitely didn't look thrilled about being boxed in like this.

"This lady here thought I was George Clarke." Arthur added, nodding toward the girl as she spoke at Isaac.

"I mean, that's a compliment." Chris replied.

"Well hello to my new man." I joked, the tipsiness creeping back into my body after two drinks had already disappeared since we arrived. to my body as I have already finished two drinks since we had arrived.

"Oi! No love - you're still with me. The real George." George says, appearing at my side and tugging me away from the huddle I was leaning into. He pulled me firmly back against him, slipping an arm around my shoulders and holding me close.

"Talk to me clarkester - how we doing?"

George exhales like he's about to launch into something deep. "I was getting on to a good level..." he starts, but Chriss suddenly swoops in, adjusting the camera with a dramatic flourish and muttering about how George is halfway out of the frame.

"Sorry, sorry - can't be cutting off the star of the show," Chris gins.

George rolls his eyes, but faces the camera anyway. "There's just been so many fan encounters; I'm feeling a bit big-headed, to be honest."

He says it with mock arrogance, but there's a flicker in his eye - half joking, half-exhausted.

I lean closer to George, voice lower, slurring just slightly as the alcohol buzz swirls through me, "well, I know something else that's big..."

George freezes for a split second - then his head whips around, eyebrows raised.

Chris lets out a spluttering laugh before nearly choking on his drink.

"Woah! Hey, hey - this is still a PG channel!" Arthur Hill cackles, already egging the moment on.

Isaac beams in at this current moment, "mate nah it isn't - but Y/N woah."

George glares at me playfully, his hand giving my shoulder a quick squeeze, "babe, what has come of you?" He mutters under his breath, lips twitching into a barely concealed smile.

I shrug unapologetic, "not my fault the truth slipped out."

His gaze lingers on me for a beat too long. I can feel it. See the corner of his mouth twitch, fighting a smirk.

"Behave." He says.

"Yes please behave, Y/N, "Chris says, turning the camera slightly and fixing me with a mock-stern glare. "Editing these videos to hide your relationship is getting harder and harder."

"About that -" George starts, his hand still resting lightly on my shoulder.

Before he can get another word out, Becky lets out an excited shriek from the end of the table, practically bouncing in her seat.

"OH MY GOD! My babies are finally going to tell the fans!" She yells, clapping her hands together.

The boys crack up laughing, Arthur Hill pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

"Well babe - you did announce he had a girlfriend to fans earlier." I state the obvious at the girl with a grin on my lips.

"It's a beautiful moment, lads..." Isaac begins before a cough emerges from Becky, "- and Becky and Y/N. True love...exposed under the blinding lights of Doncaster's finest pub."

I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks - and for once, the red isn't from the alcohol. But I'm grinning too much to care, the excitement buzzing under my skin.

George chuckles low under his breath, the sound rumbling though his chest as I feel the vibrations against my body. George turns to face Chris. "So don't worry, mate - you can leave it all in. We're planning to announce it before the video goes up anyway."

Chris raises his eyebrows, looking between the two of us like he's just been handed pure gold for his video - already imagining how much the fans will love the George and I content.

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I don't remember much of what else happened at the Weatherspoons pub.

All I remember was Becky, Arthur TV, and Isaac each buying a round in celebration of George and me, and the crowd of fans around us growing even bigger - louder, messier, and somehow even more excited.

The fresh air outside the pub hit my face like a slap - cold and sharp, sobering me up slightly but not enough.

I clung tighter to George's arm, pressing my body against his - partly for warmth, but mostly because I wanted to be close to him.

George glanced down at me, checking to make sure I was okay. I felt the slight shift of his body and looked up with pleading eyes, my body already starting to shiver from the chill.

He didn't even need to ask. Without a word, George shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

I wasted no time slipping my arms through the sleeves and zipping it up, a wave of comfort washing over me as I breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of him.

Thanks, Georgie," I said, tipping my head up toward him, lips puckered in an exaggerated pout, silently asking for a kiss.

George chuckled at my drunken antics. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me up slightly and pressed his lips to mine - soft, warm, and everything I needed.

We hear a loud scream from behind us - causing us to pull away from the kiss, and turn to see fans making their way towards us. We make haste to catch up to the group; George joining Chris up front, and myself walking alongside Becky.

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Somehow, Becky, Jess and I find ourselves separated from the group.

And, well... it might have been my fault.

I'd spotted a street vendor selling sweets, and - being the hopeless sweet tooth that I am - I had to stop and grab a little treat.

As I walked alongside the girls, pulling at my red licorice - we had the aim to catch up with the group.

And once again, we find ourselves distracted.

And, well... it might have been my fault... again.

I was stopped by a fan and her friend. The fan was a teenager, and she caught me completely off guard - I hadn't even seen her approach, too busy being distracted by my sweets.

She beams up at me, practically bouncing on the spot. "Can I get a quick picture?" She asks, phone already in hand.

"Of course!" I say, trying not to drop me sweets as I shuffle closer to her, Jess laughs from behind me, offering to hold my bag and take the photo as the two girls group in closer to me - ready to take the photo.

All three of us show a big smile as the flash goes off.

"Thank you so much!" She says, clutching her phone to her chest like it's the crown jewels.

"Of course! I'm always happy to meet a fan, are you a reader too then?" I ask, the fan quickly nods her head with eagerness - making a smile come to my face.

Before anything else can be said, her friend speaks up shyly, "actually Y/N do you have a book recommendation? I really want to get into ready like you and my friend, but I don't know where to start."

My whole face lights up instantly - suddenly zeroed in on the conversation, the buzz of the alcohol giving me excited confidence, "OOOH! Yes of course, wait - tell me first! What are your favourite shows or movies? Like, give me the vibe you."

The friend grins nervously, thinking for a second, "um... I love To All the Boys I've Loved Before... and also 10 Things I Hate About You is my favourite of all time. And I watch Heartstopper like, way too much."

I almost squeal right there on the spot. "Oh my god, you're going to LOVE this book then!" I say, practically vibrating with excitement - as I heard Becky and Jess chuckle from behind me.

"You have to start with Better Than the Movies by Lynn Painter - it's literally like if all those favourites you just said had a baby. It's romantic, funny, and has the perfect slow-burn, butterflies-in-your-stomach vibes."

The two girls grin at each other. The friend immediately starts typing the title into her phone as I keep rambling, too excited to stop.

"It's about childhood crushes and unexpected love, and the banter is so good you'll be grinning the whole time. Plus it's super easy to read - and oh there's already a sequel out."

"Thank you so much!" She says, practically beaming as well.

"No worries! And oh if either of you girls need anymore recommendations - just send me a message on Instagram and I'll remember you two. Happy reading!" I beam, waving as they scurry back toward the crowd, still chatting excitedly.

Jess nudges me with a smirk. "You were more excited about that than they were."

"Books are serious business," I say dramatically, tossing a sweet into my mouth as Becky laughs.

I feel a buzz come from my pocket, and retrieve my phone from the jacket - seeing a message.

georgie clarkey hey babe, where abouts did you and the girl go?

I reply back to George, and he sends me a link of where he is, and the girls and I make our journey back to the group.

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I hope everyone enjoyed the part, and finally witnessing Y/N talking to her fans. And I've also just realised I'm only half way through the Soccer Saturday YoutTube video, so there will be a few more parts to come alongside my second series Bittersweet Memories soon!

See you next time with a grumpy minion,

mwah x

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taglist x

@wherethezoes-at @tomsparkyr @dopeysunflowers @cuntessaiii @magicalfurykoala @kisses-for-you @rreaperes @lazywonderlandfestival @swiftlyjo @tyna-19 @swizzlemynizzle @madforgeorge @bowielovesyou

[urcoolgf]

WHAT’S YOUR DEAL? PT. 8

pairing. childhood bsf¡rafe && childhood bsf¡reader

content. fluff. language.

summary. after your dad’s ‘family plans’ are over, you can no longer put off talking to enzo about what happened between you and rafe, and where you’ll go from here

SERIES MASTERLIST

your dad had taken rafe, sarah, wheezie, and you on a little fishing trip yesterday—he had always loved fishing, so you were happy to do this for him. you had to throw back everything you caught, but your dad was just happy to hang out with you guys, doing something he found fun.

rafe and you agreed it was best to keep your little relationship quiet just to keep the dynamic chill for the boating yesterday—but that didn’t stop rafe from sneaking little kisses when no one was looking.

but, now that you were back, you couldn’t ignore enzo any longer. you hated yourself for what you had to tell him later today, but it wasn’t fair to lead him on any longer. he was an amazing guy, and he deserved someone who was 100% in.

y/n: hey! i’m back from our fishing trip, wanna meet up in like an hour?

enzo: Sounds good :) meet at our restaurant?

y/n: see you then

—

you were nervous… to say the least.

enzo was an amazing guy, and you felt shitty for blowing him off, but it was pointless when he would never be rafe. he wasn’t there for you in the most trivial points in your life—he wasn’t there when your first boyfriend broke up with you, or when your mom died. he would never know you how rafe knew you, and somehow that doomed you guys from the start.

you made sure to get there early because showing up late and dumping him seemed like salt in the wound… he quickly found you sat at a table, the smile that spread across his face once he saw you made your heart ache.

you were such an asshole.

“hey, pretty girl… i missed you,” he greeted you warmly, giving you a side hug before sitting across from you.

again; such. an. asshole.

“so… what’s new? how was your fishing trip? you catch anything?,” he was so nice, and he was killing you.

“my dad and rafe caught a few. we threw everything back though,” you smiled uncomfortably. you spoke low like you felt guilty for talking about yourself—for talking about rafe—knowing what you were about to do.

“everything alright?,” the concern on his face was so genuine, and you really didn’t want to say what you had to say.

“enzo… listen, i really like you… like a lot. you’re an amazing guy–,” you started, looking him in the eye. it was harder that way, which is why it needed to be like that. his eyes were gentle—understanding—like he already knew what was coming.

“but…,” he drew it out like he already knew where this was going. “you’re in love with rafe… right?,” he said it softly, with a small smile.

“wha– how did you–?”

“i saw the way he looked at you on the beach… i figured you couldn’t ignore it forever,” he didn’t even look mad—upset, sure—but that little genuine smile stayed plastered to his face.

“you’re not mad?,” you questioned, almost in disbelief—like how he was reacting was too good to be true.

“upset? sure. mad? never,” his smile widened just a bit as he moved to hold your hand—not in a way that was begging you to stay, more as a comfort. you didn’t pull away—didn’t flinch—just let him do it.

“i would never be mad at you for falling in love, y/n… i know it happens when you least expect it,” he nodded his head slightly, like he wasn’t just trying to convince you, but convince himself, too.

“thanks, enzo. hey, it would mean a lot to me if we could stay friends? that might be a big ask, but–,” he didn’t even let you finish, cutting you off with a loving look in his eyes.

“of course,” you couldn’t tell if he genuinely wanted that, or not, but you chose to believe he did—chose to believe it didn’t bother him.

"rafe better know how lucky he is… and if he ever tries to break your heart—i’m here– like in a ‘i-would-set-him-straight’ way. i think you guys are gonna go far, honestly. seems like he’s got a lot of love for ya,” you felt stupid for even being worried… enzo was already a gentleman, of course he was going to take this splendidly.

“i really appreciate it. seriously, i was all worried coming into this. i know it’s not like we were exclusive, or like ‘til-death-do-us-part’ type, but you mean a lot to me,” it was true. you hadn’t met that long ago, but you had gotten close, and you never wanted to hurt him.

“you mean a lot to me too, y/n. don’t worry about me,” he gave your hand a gentle squeeze before retracting his hand. “i’ll see you around then?”

“yeah, see ya around,” you gave him one last smile before he stood from his seat, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the lingering warmth of his hand on yours.

—

you walked back into the house, attempting to find rafe and tell him how it went, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found… well, until you took two steps outside, and found him sitting in one of the lounge chairs by the pool.

“hey,” you said, flopping into the empty chair next to him. he turned his head to see you, squinting to keep the sun out of his eyes.

“oh, hey baby,” it rolled off his tongue so naturally, like he was made to call you that—made to be yours. you tried hard to ignore the way sweat glistened over his abs, and his swim shorts hung just low enough for your mind to run wild. “how’d it go?”

“good… actually,” you still looked a little puzzled from your interaction with enzo, and rafe noticed it immediately. he also noticed the way you were looking at him, but he wasn’t one to complain.

he quickly noticed your outfit—kind of nice considering you went to break it off with this dude. he minded a bit, but once his eyes raked down your body, enzo didn’t seem that important anymore. you were his. you had just broken up with a supposedly ‘perfect guy’—whatever—from him. he was on top of the world right now, but that didn’t stop him from addressing your tone and slight confusion.

“what d’ya mean actually? somethin’ happen?,” he sat up a bit, propping himself on his elbows, looking at you more directly since he thought he was going to have to beat this man.

“no. he was– he was surprisingly chill…,” well, shit. that was actually more worrying to rafe.

“really?,” he almost scoffed like he didn’t believe it—like he thought enzo might be playing at something. he rested his head back against the chair, turning straightforward and closing his eyes again.

“yeah, i don’t know… it wasn’t even weird. he said it was fine—that he knew you were in love with me,” that caught his attention.

“he knew?!,” he laughed—a dry, humorless laugh. “yeah, right.”

"well, either way… that’s over. i feel better,” you relaxed, laying back against the chair, mimicking rafe. you enjoyed the sun, and the silence… for a whole three seconds.

you sat back up, turning completely toward rafe ”that was like shockingly easy… right?,” you weren’t sure why you wanted it to be harder, or more painful, but the fact it wasn’t was almost just as worrying. you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

"don’t worry about it baby. it’s done,” rafe responded, not even turning toward you, knowing damn well he was just as concerned as you. it still left him wondering; what was enzo up to? surely he wasn’t just going to let you go that easy…? or, maybe rafe was just being insane, and you were being paranoid.

it didn’t matter. it was bothering you, which meant it was bothering rafe, and he was going to take care of it—take care of you. no matter what.

an: ooh this is short. . . i’m SO sorry it took this long to get another part out. i was struggling so hard with how this ‘chapter’ was gonna go. i’m probably gonna wrap this up soon because i’m running out of ideas :’)

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[the-library-alcove]

I've been studying this for a while, and essentially, there are two related narratives, plus a distinct third, depending on how deep into the historical revisionism the given individual is.

Narrative One is the Khazer Theory narrative, and it is, amazingly, the less revisionist version. In this narrative, generally speaking, there were Jews in the Levant two thousand years ago, but they became the Palestinians, and there was a completely break in continuity between the ancient Israelites and the modern Jews, with all modern Jews being sourced from Turkic Khazer converts in the 700s CE, or from subsequent European converts over the centuries, and are thus all ethnically White Europeans. In essence, to the people who believe this narrative, modern Jews are functionally no different than any other post-Christian neo-pagan revivalist group in the modern era, rebuilding, remaking, and reinventing their claimed religious practices out of historical documents, extrapolation, and guesswork. Meanwhile, the Palestinians are the natural inheritors of the Israelite culture and identity, and the (((Israelis))) have invaded, stolen, colonized, and otherwise appropriated that inheritance through false pretenses.

Narrative Two is somehow more historically revisionist; this is the one promoted by sites such as DecolonizePalestine and others of their ilk, and it goes as follows: Palestine has existed for anywhere between four thousand (on the comparatively saner side) to ten million (on the ludicrious side) years as a contiguous, consistent, and distinct social, political, and cultural unit; most people who subscribe to this narrative tend to fall between 4000 and 12,000 years of Continuous Palestinian Existence--which is still somewhere between the New Kingdom period of Egypt and twice the age of agriculture. According to this narrative, the land has always and forever been known as Palestine; in the more egregious cases, claims that Palestine was the site of the domestication of fire or the invention of agriculture are common. Additionally, every major Abrahamic figure is actually Palestinian, including Abraham, Moses, King David, Solomon, and Jesus. (The Jews still killed Jesus, though). In this narrative, the Khazer theory is still used, but instead of the complete break of continuity of practice that Narrative One depends on, in this case, it's essentially casting European White Fake Jews ™ as having created the claim of "divine bestowment of the land" out of whole cloth, essentially as a form of Manifest Destiny in direct parallel with American Manifest Destiny, as well as other forms of European colonization. Again in this narrative, the Israelis are cast as being cruel, uncaring, and greedy European invaders doing what they do best--invading, colonizing, and stripping the land of anything and everything of value while stomping all over the idyllic natives.

Narrative Three is somehow the most accurate (by comparison only!) and also most racist. Yes, the holders of this narrative will acknowledge, Jews are descended--at least a bit--from the ancient Israelites. However, it's been too long, and the Jews have interbred with the European populace too much to be considered "native" to anywhere but Europe any longer; essentially, their indigenous status has expired and the Palestinians are the "new" indigenous populace by dint of having been in possession (ostensibly) at some arbitrary date when the Jews lost their status as indigenous. Asking for harder numbers on this arbitrary date tends to get diverted or denied, but in general, it seems to be a desire to set everyone back to "where they were in 1492"--the Year Zero of European Colonization. Since Jews were in Europe at the time, Jews "belong" there.

I'm really sick of the "[x] was promised to them 3000 years ago" brand of antisemitism. Since when was making fun of other people's religious beliefs and cultural identity okay? It's not funny and its basically the antisemitic equivalent of "I identify as an attack helicopter" can you at least come up with something more original.

[peachdues]

SCALED — the teaser

Sailor!Sanemi x Mermaid!Reader • 18+

A/N: it’s Sanemi’s turn to be the monsterfucker, y’all.

CW: the tiniest bit suggestive but be warned: this story will be hella NSFW. MDNI. Sanemi gets a taste of mermussy later

There, amidst the cragged adamant, is a flash of blue. Not the blue of the ocean, with its subtle greens that shift in and out of the sun’s punishing rays. It was the blue of jewels; of precious sapphires and tourmalines like those he’d seen hanging from ropes of silver the nobles wore around their necks. Indigo, too, like the watery trail left behind by the moon when it hung fat and silver in the night sky.

The very precise shade of blue Douma had described.

Sanemi squints harder as the blue shifts and sways atop the rocks. The sun glitters off the whorls of color, blending them together just as much as it pulls them apart. A sudden wave knocks harshly up the side of the ship, spraying his face with sea water. When he finishes wiping the salt from his eyes, the ship has moved a little closer into shore, and Sanemi can finally make out the source of the blue.

A woman. No, he shakes his head as he wipes the back of his hand again across his eyes. Not a woman — not fully. True, she bears all the upper attributes of a woman: two arms, pretty hands, and human breasts bared toward the sun. Her face too, is human, even if her beauty is otherworldly. But, as Sanemi tracks his eyes down the length of her form, he sees that her humanity stops right below her navel. Where her hips should give way to two legs — and the paradise he knows, as a man, must lie between them — there are only scales. Rich, cobalt scales, untinteruppted as they stretch down down down the side of the rock.

Drifting lazily in the surf is the tip of her great tail.

A mermaid.

Sanemi’s jaw slackens. A swear creeps up his throat, but it dies on his tongue, now too dry, too swollen to force it out.

A charter could undertake a thousand different expeditions to seek out a mermaid only to return empty handed — if it returned at all. Yet, here he was, stranded on a ship that managed to come across one on her maiden voyage. Even if Sanemi had been a betting man, this is the sort of odd he’d never have the stones to wager. Not if his life depended on it.

He thinks he should count his lucky stars he doesn’t have such vices. Otherwise, he would’ve been deprived of this — of her and her enchanting beauty — if he had.

Silently, he watches the mermaid in awe until the ship has nearly passed the rock upon which she suns.

Her eyes flash to his.

Sanemi dares not blink; neither does she. Even the call seagulls fades beneath the gentle crash of the waves lapping against the ship’s hull.

A mermaid is the price to gain back what we lost, boy. Douma had boasted with his too sharp smile and too sharp teeth. Perhaps you’ll win your freedom by helping us gain ours.

He thinks of his mother; of his sisters and their frightened faces and rigid shoulders as Douma’s men leered and taunted them; of the gash his brother now bears across his cheek.

He thinks of the beautiful creature watching him warily from her sanctuary among the lodestone, her tail dragging slowly through the water.

Fuck ‘em. He won’t say a damn word.

“Boy!”

On reflex, Sanemi whips around. Scanning the deck, he finds the irritated mug of Kyogai, snarling and sneering at him from the quarter deck. A quick glance overboard and Sanemi holds up two fingers; two meters between the rocks and the ship’s starboard side.

Kyogai scoffs and turns away. The rest of the crew ignore him, too busy throwing rope and drawing in the sails as they prepare to anchor. For a long moment he remains frozen, feet cemented to the forecastle with no memory of how to move. Only when he feels the familiar shudder shake below the keel is he able to move his tight limbs.

He does not hear the faint splash of water over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Breathe, idiot. He commands himself. In, one, two, three through his nose; let the salt ignite his blood, creep up the back of his tongue, before he lets it out in the same count. Repeat. Repeat again, until his errant pulse calms. Then he will look.

When Sanemi finally turns back, the mermaid is gone.

[losers-clvb]

what friends are for ruby x female!reader

content: best friend!reader, college au, bisexual!ruby, unlabeled!reader, samruby mentioned (hooking up, there is no cheating here), smut (marking, finger sucking, fingering, dirty talk), inexperienced reader, reader's jealousy mentioned

word count: 4.4k

note: mommy ruby is here to take care of you (no mommy kink, though)

“Oh my God,” Ruby huffed, throwing closed the door to your shared dorm room.

You looked up from your laptop, frowning. She looked back at you with the biggest smile you’d seen from the girl.

“What?” You asked, though you weren’t all that surprised from her reaction. It wasn’t an unusual thing for Ruby to come back looking like she was floating on a cloud. You supposed that was what happened when you had a man like Sam Winchester touching you in all the best places.

“Sam…,” Ruby sighed. She climbed onto her bed, laying on her back to stare at the ceiling dreamily.

Jesus, you thought. She was never like this.

“Yeah, I know about Sam.” You breathed out, turning back to your homework. You had heard about every inch of that man’s body, down to the little freckle he had on his hip bone.

You were happy for Ruby, you really were. She’d been your best friend for longer than you could remember. You did everything together. Elementary school, middle school cheer teams, high school graduations. You were even each other’s dates to prom. Matching dresses and everything. Your classmates and families always teased you two, egging you both to “just admit you’re dating already.”

It got harder to deny the lesbian lover rumors when you realized your very real feelings for her. You hadn’t thought much about your sexuality. You liked who you liked and never acted on it, that was what mattered. It wouldn’t do any good to put a label on anything when you didn’t even have the confidence to tell your best friend that you were in love with her.

You still listened to her stories of hookups and dates gone wrong. You would chime in with little comments, ignoring the simmering jealousy in your chest. If Ruby noticed, she didn’t say anything about it.

“That man is a god in bed, babe.” Ruby smirked, turning to rest on her side. She propped her head up on her hand, looking directly into your eyes. “I squirted.”

You let out a little laugh and tried not to let it show that you were imagining what she had looked like in that moment.

“Hmm, that good, huh?” You smiled, eyes tracing over the curve of her lips.

You didn't mind Sam. He treated Ruby well. You knew she could be quite the little demon when she felt like it. He was nice to you, attractive, smart. There was just one thing wrong with him.

He got to fuck Ruby every night while you buried yourself in your blankets.

You should be the one tasting her. You should be able to know exactly which spot makes her moan the loudest. It should be your name that she’s screaming out when she comes. What gave Sam the right to all that knowledge?

“Fucking incredible.” Ruby practically moaned, falling on her back again. She bit her bottom lip, shaking her head while thinking of that moment again.

You squeezed your thighs together and looked away. Yep, that moan was getting stored away for later.

You could already imagine the things that would come to mind once you were able to squirrel away some private time.

Ruby down on her knees in front of you, lips coated in your arousal, her pupils blown beyond belief and it was all for you. She swoops her head down again, tongue flattening against your clit.

“Fucking incredible,” she moans and inches her fingers up your leg before pushing--

“Are you listening? Hello?” Ruby interrupted your thoughts, looking at you with furrowed brows. You nod, far too quickly for it to be natural, but it doesn’t matter. She’s already going back into her monologue about Sam.

“He’s just so hot.” She was pretty much growling as she spoke. “And his fingers! They were hitting the right spot every time. You know what I’m talking about, right?”

You rolled your neck, sighing at the crack of your joints.

“You know the answer to that.” You reminded her of your ridiculously miniscule love life. There were no partners, no random hookups, not even a good sext with someone on the internet. You had no interest in it, not when the girl you really wanted was now looking at you with her head tilted.

“I didn’t know if you’d kept some secrets from me.” Ruby teased, fully sitting up now. She pulled a pillow into her lap, leaning into it, closer to you. You scrunched your nose, smiling just enough to show a sliver of your teeth to her.

“As if I’d ever keep anything from you.” Your eyes dropped to her chest and lingered for a moment. The swoop of her neckline left little to the imagination, not that you had to use much imagination when it came to Ruby.

Being childhood best friends meant being very close. Most times that meant changing in front of one another, chests bared to each other. Sometimes it meant being tasked with taking erotic photos of Ruby for her to share with her lovers.

You called yourself a creep every time you used the imagery of her lace-covered body as fuel for your orgasms.

“Okay, fine,” Ruby laughed. “When you touch yourself--,” she held a hand up to your mouth opening in protest, “I know you do, don’t deny it. When you touch yourself and use your fingers, it feels good.” She said it like it was a fact she already knew.

“I don’t do that.” You simply replied, finally dragging your eyes away from her.

“I told you not to deny it.” Ruby’s voice was flat. She was tired of this. She’d always wondered why you weren’t open about your masturbation with her. You shared every other scrap of information, why not this? “No, you’re right, I do touch myself.” You forced your gaze to zero in on a word that, under the sudden attention being on you, was starting to look like an incomprehensible string of letters. “I just don’t do it like that.”

A beat of silence made you look up. You frowned at her look of incredulity, all parted lips and narrowed eyes.

“What?” You raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like there was one way to get yourself off.

“You don’t “do that”?” Ruby scoffed. With the shake of your head, her mouth snapped shut into a frown. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Just don’t wanna.”

“You’ve never even tried it?” Ruby pushed the pillow from her legs and shuffled to the edge of the bed. “Not once?”

“I mean, I did, once,” you fought down the blush creeping up, “but it didn’t feel good.”

Ruby frowned.

“How did you do it?” She asked. She said it so casually, like you two were talking about the weather. You pushed your brows together, the confusion evident on your face.

“What?” It came out as more of a scoff. You’d expected her to just drop the conversation as a whole, maybe with a little laugh. But not this.

“It’s not a trick question, babe.” Ruby looked at you expectantly. “How did you finger yourself?”

“I-I don’t know,” you were flustered now, cheeks burning, “I just did it.”

“Show me.”

You choked on your breath. What the hell?

Show me. Ruby’s voice rang in your head, filling your stomach with desire. You inconspicuously squeezed your thighs together.

“C’mon, we’re best friends, right?” Ruby tilted her head, pulling her bottom lip into her teeth. You saw the flash of mischief in her eyes, the same one that had gotten you two in the back of a cop car for skinny dipping at the age of sixteen.

“What--how--Ruby, I can’t.” You were stammering now, trying not to look at her.

“I just wanna help you. Can’t have my girl going unsatisfied.”

My girl. Jesus. She doesn’t even know what the hell she does to you. Or maybe she does. Maybe that’s why she’s doing this, why she’s climbing off of her bed and sauntering to the edge of yours.

Ruby gently curled her fingers over your laptop, placing it off to the side. She leaned onto her arms, hands flat on either side of your thighs. If it were any other person, you would feel trapped. Ruby? She was the hottest captor you could ever hope for.

“Let me see how you touch yourself.” Ruby purred, looking into your eyes, daring you to do it. She knew you weren’t shy but you were less intune with your sexuality than her.

She was the one who’d gifted you with your first vibrator. She’d been the first one to lose her virginity and had promptly called you with every little detail. It had taken an insane amount of begging for you to even tell her your celebrity crush.

You told her everything else. She didn’t know exactly why you were hesitant to share your horny thoughts with her, but she was starting to suspect your reasoning when she would catch your eyes lingering for just a second too long, or when the flare of possessive jealousy sounded in your words.

Ruby didn’t mind. She was possessive of you too.

“You really wanna see?” You asked, eyes wide.

“Isn’t that what friends are for?” She shrugged, slowly sliding her hands to the sides of your shorts. She tucked her fingers into the waistband, the tops of her manicured nails pressing firm against your skin.

You refrained from telling her that most friends, in fact, did not watch each other get off. You didn’t want to ruin this moment. This was a dream come true. Even if everything would go back to normal after this, with Ruby under Sam and you under your blankets, you would still have this to look back on.

You rested your hands over hers, both of you guiding your shorts and underwear down your legs. She caught sight of your panties, black lace with a little bow on the front.

“Are these the ones I picked out?” She asked, smirking. She knew the answer.

“They’re my favorites.” You smiled. They were, ever since that day when she’d pulled them from a drawer at the lingerie store. You two were there for her, picking out a set to wear for Sam, but the moment she laid eyes on the lacy black set on the mannequin, she knew it was perfect for you. You didn’t argue, wanting to please her in any way you could.

“Gotta spread your legs, babe.” Ruby tapped your knee lightly. You stared at her, unmoving until she shot you that sweet smile you loved so much.

You moved slow, pulling your knees up and apart. With another look at Ruby, you slid your hand between your thighs.

Usually, you would have worked yourself up, eased into rubbing over your center. You were nervous, making this entire situation that much more difficult. You immediately prodded at your entrance, wincing at the pain.

“See, doesn’t work for me.” You shrugged, snapping your legs shut and pulling a blanket over your thighs.

Ruby frowned.

“You didn’t even try.” She huffed.

“Yes, I did, Rubes.” You argued, avoiding eye contact with her.

“No, you didn’t.” She looked around the room, then back at you. You frowned at the smile pulling on the corners of her lips. “Let me show you how to do it.”

Once again, Ruby had you stumbling for what to say.

“N-no…you-what?” You stammered, blinking. You prayed you didn’t look too turned on.

Ruby ran her tongue over her teeth, looking up at you through her lashes.

“I just want to make sure you’re taken care of.” She made it sound so innocent, like she wasn’t asking to help make you come. You looked into her eyes, watching the swirl of brown get swallowed up by her lust-blown pupils.

“You take care of me every day.” You replied, soft and sweet. And she really did.

Sick? She was at your bedside with water and a bowl of soup, spoon-feeding you. Stressed? She massaged your shoulders and did what she could to help complete your assignments. Insomnia-ridden? She crawled into your bed, curling up against your back and stroking your hair until you were snoring softly into your pillows.

“Yeah, I know.” She tilted her head and shrugged. “So let me do this, too.”

You didn’t stop her from crawling onto your bed, or from settling in behind you, or from brushing your hair back from your neck.

“Can I touch you?” Ruby’s voice was breath into your ear, a sultry slur that had a shiver running down your spine.

“Always.” It just slipped out. You didn’t mean for your response to sound so… desperate. You bit your tongue to stop a defense from flowing out. Ruby always told you to stand by your words, which you never had a problem with unless it was with her.

She smiled into your hair and began to touch you. It was featherlight at first, just a ghosting of her hand over your thighs, hips, waist. Your core, already slick from simply imagining what Ruby would do to you, fluttered with the brush of her fingertips under your shirt.

“Is this working?” She whispered into your ear.

“Mhm.” You hummed. You don’t know why she even bothered to ask. She knew it was working, she knew what you liked, maybe more than you did.

“Good.” Another sigh of breath into your ear, but this time, a gentle kiss on your pulse point followed it. You leaned into it, feeling her lips parting, teeth grazing, tongue pressing.

A low whine squeaked out when her fingers pressed up against your hip bone. She let out a low chuckle, kissing down your neck.

Her hand creeped up your hoodie, making way to your chest. She paused at the feel of bare skin under her hand. She’d expected lacey cloth.

“No bra?” You could hear the playful smirk in her voice. You let out a shaky breath.

“Didn’t think I needed one.” You practically rushed it out. It was the only way to avoid your voice breaking when she cupped a breast, soft and gentle.

“Smart girl.” Ruby circled her thumb around the sensitive skin of your breast, teasing the edge of your nipple.

“Start like this,” she spoke into your ear like a sexy teacher, “slow, teasing,” she just barely brushed her thumbpad against the peak of your nipple, “work yourself up.”

You panted the whisper of a groan out.

“Mmm…,” she hummed, her eyes fluttering shut, “you sound so pretty, babe. You know that?”

You shrank into her, feeling the rise and fall of her chest pressing against your back.

“You always sound so fucking pretty.” She finally pressed her fingers on your nipple, earning her a moan muffled by your tight-closed lips.

Ruby shifted her attention to the opposite breast, giving it the same aching tease.

“I hear you, at night, when you think I’m asleep or too drunk to remember.”

Her words made you freeze. No. There were only a few times you dared to do it with her in the room. You always made sure she was sleeping first, always making sure she was taken care of before you took care of yourself.

“You think you’re quiet, but I always hear you,” she pinched your skin lightly. “Always.”

You tried to talk, to tell her you would try harder to be quiet, but her teeth grazed on your shoulder, cutting you off.

“What do you think about?” She licked onto the bite, observing the skin. It would bruise with time, leaving a trace of her when all of this was over.

“Noth-,” you began to answer before she landed a gentle smack on your thigh. You’d forgotten about that other hand, lingering on your hip.

“Don’t lie to me.” She warned, kissing your neck again. “I can read your mind, remember?” She said it so cheekily.

I can read your mind. She’d said it almost every day since second grade, when you two had watched some made-for-TV kid’s movie about a pair of telepathic best friends. Little-Ruby had declared it to be a direct parallel to real life, claiming you two were going to start reading each other’s minds. You played along for a few years, eventually dropping the joke sometime around middle school. Ruby never did.

“What makes you moan so pretty, baby?” Her words made you melt into a whimper, mouthing parting to let the sound pass.

“You.”

You’d expected some surprise, maybe a rough push and a yell about how weird it was to get off to the idea of your best friend. Just like she continuously did, she surprised you.

“I knew it.” She muttered with a grin.

“You… you’re not… mad?” You didn’t know how to ask it without it sounding pitiful. The anxiety and shock flooded the room, making Ruby frown.

“No, no, babe, I could never be mad at you.” She cooed, fingertip circling your nipple. “I can’t blame you. No one can resist all of this.” She joked, easing your nerves.

“Shut up.” You laughed. The noise morphed into a small gasp when she nuzzled into your neck, nosing against your shoulder.

“I do it too.” Ruby admitted.

“Think about… yourself?” It was a weak guess. You knew what she meant, but you didn’t have the confidence to say it out loud.

“Yeah.” She nodded, a sigh blowing air onto your skin. You furrowed your brows, angling your head to look her in the eye.

Her poker-face shifted into a wide smile, a laugh bursting from her. You blushed, forcing down your own laughs.

“You’re mean.” You looked down with a smile, chewing on the inside of your cheek. She was doing this on purpose, you realized. Lulling you into normalcy to help you through this situation. As always, taking care of you.

“I meant it.” Ruby continued her strokes on your breasts, tapping her fingers lightly on your sternum on her way back down. “I think about you, too.”

“A lot?” You had your hand on her knee now, knuckles bending to grip down when her hand splayed across your stomach.

“Enough.” She shrugged. “You were my first crush-ah, second crush, first was Meg Ryan.”

“Meg Ryan.” You echoed at the same time, a breathless kind of sound due to her fingers ghosting against your inner thigh.

“Do you know how hard I come to the thought of you?” She whispered into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe to pull a whimper out of you.

Your chin quivered. It was a wonder your teeth hadn’t broken skin with how hard you were biting down on your lip.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You mumbled, hooking your hands into the bend of her knees. You held her close to you while she traced lines over your skin.

“Didn’t know if you were into it. You’re kind of a prude when it comes to sex.” You felt her smile against your neck.

“I’m not a prude, Ruby. I just don’t sleep with the entire chem class.” You bit back jokingly. She laughed, chest rumbling.

It was a common joke between you two, started in your junior year of high school when some guy started to spread the rumor that Ruby had let your entire chemistry class take turns on her. Ruby’s defense, to his dismay, was to confirm the rumors.

“Getting more pussy than you, bro.” She’d called across the cafeteria before slinging an arm over your shoulders, waiting to laugh until you two were in the privacy of the hallway.

“You don’t talk about your sex life with me.” Ruby continued, slowly pushing your legs apart. Air rushed over your newly exposed skin, making you shiver.

“I didn’t want you to think I was a creep.” You watched her hand brush over your thighs. You sucked in a sharp breath when she hovered her hand over your center.

“For what? Thinking I was hot?” She laughed. Her fingers twitched in waiting. She still didn’t touch you where you really needed it.

“For wanting to taste you.” You forced a whine down. “Or to hear you moan, see what you look like when you come.” You didn’t know why it felt okay to lay it all out like this. Maybe it was her lips sucking a mark onto your neck.

“You really want to make me come?”

“Ye-,” you started to answer, but Ruby cupped her hand over you, curves of her fingers slotting against your folds. You choked on your words, your grip on her tightening.

“Maybe after this,” she hummed, lips grazing on the shell of your ear, “gotta take care of you first.”

You felt her swipe through your slick, gathering it up. She lifted her hand to eye-level, showing you the mess as if you didn’t already know how wet you were.

“After you tease that pretty little body of yours, you want to make sure your fingers will slip right in.” She brought her hand to her mouth, wrapping her lips around the two soaked digits. “Mmmm…,” she moaned.

You opened your mouth just like she wanted when her fingers drifted over. She slipped them in, letting you taste her saliva and the remnants of yourself.

“Good, isn’t it?” Ruby’s eyes were trained on your mouth as you sucked. You watched her expression as you twirled your tongue around the tips.

“If you aren’t as wet as you should be, just-,” she shoved her fingers deeper, making you gag, “-use your spit.”

She dragged her fingers out, now coated in your saliva.

“See? Now they’ll slide in, nice and easy.” She purred the last part, lowering her hand back to your folds.

Ruby toyed with you for a few minutes. Her fingers parted, rubbing up and down on you. You yelped out a whine when she pressed her thumb onto your clit.

“Ready?” She asked, swirling tight circles onto you. You nodded, trying to keep quiet enough to stop your neighbors from hearing. It’d be a shame if those lesbian lover rumors followed you to college.

She slowly pushed a finger in, just one. You tensed up.

“Shhh… just relax, let me make you feel good, babe.” She mumbled into your ear, pressing another kiss to your neck that made you melt.

You took in deep breaths, slow and steady, and Ruby started to move her finger in rhythm with your chest’s rise and fall. You felt the ridges of her knuckles running across your walls, pulling a soft hum from your throat.

“Y0u like me being inside you?” She spoke into your ear, sounding like heaven and hell wrapped in one. You closed your eyes, soaking it all in.

“One more.” Ruby warned softly before you felt the stretch of another finger going into you. You choked out a groan, your grip on her knees tightening.

“Good, good, you’re doing so good.” Ruby cooed, using her other hand to guide the rolling of your hips.

“Rube…,” you sighed, throwing your head back against her shoulder.

She smirked, kissing up your cheek. You got the hint, no need for words, and turned your head. Her lips brushed against yours, teeth pulling at your bottom lip. You were waiting for it, for her to kiss you properly. What you got instead made you gasp out a loud moan.

Ruby curled her fingers up, hitting a soft, spongy spot you didn’t know you had. Her lips curled up, pride swelling through her.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” She mumbled, your lip still in her teeth. You whimpered, gasping up breaths of air that did little to ease the growing knot in your lower stomach.

Her hold on your lip loosened just enough to dart her tongue out, the tip of it tracing into your mouth. You decided to take charge, the teasing too much for you to handle. You shoved your face into hers, locking lips with her hungrily.

She made noise of surprise, but there was no hesitation. She immediately molded her lips to yours, like they were made specifically for this. Your mouths shifted against each other, jaws moving up and down as Ruby’s fingers moved in and out.

The air blowing from your nose was hot and fast, your heart racing a marathon while she moaned against you. You squeezing around her fingers, your tongue pushing into hers, it was enough to make her come, just from the sheer beauty of how well it belonged.

This moment was woven by fate, made to happen by a higher being than you or her.

She curled her fingers up again, repeatedly pressing against that damn spot. You broke away from the kiss to cry out, not able to keep your noises in any longer.

Ruby’s other hand found the back of your head, pushing your lips back to hers with a growl. She hummed into you happily when you tugged her knees up, caging yourself in with her limbs.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You didn’t know anything that felt better than this. You’d been satisfied with your usual routine of using your vibrator until you came, but after this? You weren’t sure it would be enough anymore.

“You close?” Ruby panted out, smiling at the nod of your head. “Yeah, I know you are. I can feel your pretty little pussy tightening up.” She rubbed your clit with her thumb.

“Do it.” She encouraged.

You tried to hold back. You really did. You didn’t want this moment to end. It was too much, your self control had circled down the drain the moment Ruby spread your legs.

You came with a low, long moan, nails digging into the plush of her thighs. She groaned with you, mouthing at the side of your neck while she worked you through it.

When you stilled, she stayed inside you, not wanting to lose the warmth of your walls just yet. You panted out loud breaths, mouth parted, the edges of your teeth just barely peeking through.

“That’s how you do it.” Ruby said, breaking the silence. She kissed your neck again but didn’t make any move to get away from you.

You turned your head to her, a loopy smirk on your face.

“Thought you said you squirted.” You reminded her, a soft chuckle growing in your chest.

Ruby smiled back, that mischievous flare running through her eyes again.

“Guess we’ll have to try again.” She moved back in, lips brushing against yours at the same time her fingers curled up again. This was what friends were for, after all.

everything taglist : @littlesoulshine @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @mostlymarvelgirl @missus-ackles @tinas111 @ambiguous-avery

[vorfreudevortex]

Lavender Worries

more levi x blind!fem!reader cw: 2.2k words. a bit of angst to comfort. some fluffy/innocent intimacy (he helps you bathe), stress/worry/anxiety, hair loss, levi is STRESSED like always lmao, erwin and hange care about you two a lot, hange's the goat... i think that's it tldr: levi notices you losing hair from stress, which worries him deeply until hange steps in with their brilliant mind masterlist

Levi was worried about you. Well… he was always stressed about you and your well-being, but now? He was spiraling.

It started in the small bathroom at home and the hot water that lapped gently against the sides of the metal tub. The soft scent of a plain soap filled the humid room while a worn cotton towel was draped on his chair. About once a week, you’d scrub yourself down and bathe. Levi would help how he could by washing your hair, then bathe himself after you were finished.

He always let you go first, saving the hottest water for you to relax in before him.

“Lean back,” Levi said, his voice low and relaxed.

You sat with your knees drawn up and your arms wrapped around them loosely, while warm bubbles and foam blanketed your skin. You could feel Levi’s presence sitting just behind you, then the body heat of his knees near your head when you let it rest over the edge of the tub.

It was intimate, of course. Sometimes he’d wonder what someone might think if they saw him helping you bathe without a scrap of clothing over your skin. But, this is always what he’d done, and this is always how it worked. And the truth is, Levi loved these little moments. He loved having this excuse to be near you, to touch you, to help you.

Calloused but careful fingers worked through your hair, gently detangling the strands before harshly scrubbing the oil from your scalp with his fingertips. You closed your eyes, letting the sensations send goosebumps down your spine as he worked with mechanical precision, just like he always did. For a few minutes, it was peaceful and calming, and you almost dozed off.

Until a slight pause in Levi’s fingers. A sudden stillness.

“What is it?” You murmured, eyes still closed and face still relaxed.

Levi didn’t answer right away. His hands hovered just above your scalp, like he was debating whether to finish or pull away altogether.

“Nothing,” He lied with a strained voice. He was always such a bad liar when it came to you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes…”

You waited patiently for him to continue, to admit the truth. You knew he eventually would.

“You…” He finally began. “…A clump of hair came out.”

“Well, that’s not so bad.”

“No,” You heard Levi swallow. “There are several clumps of hair coming out.”

He watched you blink a few times and make an indiscernible face. On the other hand, you weren’t surprised. This winter had been hard. Harder than usual.

The exceptionally low light left you sleeping less and idling more. The frigid cold never seemed to leave your fingertips no matter how long you spent by the well-stoked fire Levi kept. On top of that, stress had always had a way of slyly weaving itself around your bones, tugging all the usually-knotted threads loose.

You worried constantly. Over yourself, your sight, your health. Over Levi, his life, his duties. The finances, the house, the food. Over Scout, and if the little kitty was warm enough, fed enough, or if he’d run away from the lack of proper attention— Like he wasn’t still the most spoiled, doted on pet in the city.

Over the thousand other things that loomed in the air, and other ones that neither of you would say out loud. Your body would be immobilized while your mind plummeted and pulled. Most of the time, you could push it away, hide it from him enough to evade questions.

But this winter was different, especially with how antagonizing and incessant Levi and his duties as a Scout have been.

“I guess I’m getting old,” You laughed. Any other person would have brushed it all off, taken your laugh to heart, and let it go.

But not Levi. He saw right through the force of it. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even move.

“You’re not old,” He muttered harshly, like he didn’t know what to say and felt to need to defend himself.

A few more tense, silent moments passed before his hands finally settled on your scalp again. This time, he scrubbed it slower, more deliberately, careful not to tug out any more strands as he went. Hesitant, like he was afraid he’d crumble your skull under his touch.

“You shouldn’t worry about it,” You whispered casually, but half begging him to believe it. “Or worry so much about me at all.”

“That’s not really something I can just turn off,” He scoffs.

More silence stretched between you, heavy and hanging in the air with the steam. He dipped a cloth in the water and wrung it out over your head with slow movements. The water began to cool around you.

Finally, Levi stood and cleaned up his area. You felt his fingers brush ever so slightly against your hair, observing it once more before he left to let you finish and dress. Behind your back and bleary vision, he gathered up the wet, fallen clumps from floor, like they were something valuable he didn’t want to lose. He didn’t know why he did it, maybe because he didn’t want you to see and weigh over the hairs yourself.

He didn’t say anything when he left, but both of you felt the unspoken tension for the rest of the evening, neither of you really knowing what it was about.

+++++++++++++++

Levi started to come home earlier. He moved around the house quieter, stayed out of reach. He fussed over firewood, washed dishes that were already clean, sharpened knives that didn’t need it. He brought someone in to tune your piano. A new and thicker blanket appeared on your bed— Anything that kept his hands busy, even if it was not necessarily a help to you.

At night when he thought you were asleep, your ears picked up the sound of him pacing in his bedroom, in his socks to hide the noise of his boots, even though you’d hear it anyways.

He was doing a very poor job of hiding his worry.

Later, in Erwin’s office at the Survey Corps Headquarters, Hange leaned back in their chair while Levi stared out the window. His jaw was clenched, arms crossed so tight over his chest that it looked painful.

“You’re going to break something if you keep doing that,” Hange ragged.

Levi didn’t respond.

“You should head home,” Erwin noted. “I think you’re burning yourself out again.”

Levi gave the slightest motion of acknowledgment as his shoulders tensed.

“What are you so worried about?” Hange asked.

After a while, Levi finally responded, but it was barely more than a growl. “She’s losing her hair.”

Hange blinked, the lamplight reflecting off their glasses. Erwin’s expression ticked almost imperceptibly.

“And you think that’s your fault?” Erwin asked, although it was more of a statement.

“Of course it is,” Levi’s voice was dry. “I’m the one she’s stressing over.”

Nobody said anything for a few moments, knowing that nothing they could say would ease Levi or help the problem. It was true, what he said. If your worry about him somehow got resolved, the other issues wouldn’t seem so tantalizing. Your stress bounced off of Levi, each of you silently multiplying the anxiety for the other until one of you would finally calm.

“You should head home,” Erwin finally repeated, although quieter this time.

Levi’s hand tensed against his bicep, like he wanted to punch something. Like he wanted to shout, like he wanted to cry but didn’t know how. So with that, he stood to his feet and walked out of the room, boots snapping sharply against the stone as he made his way back home to you.

+++++++++++++++

A few days later, you and Levi were sheltered from the stabbing cold outside, near the blazing fire in the sitting room while you played piano and he read his book. There was a quick, sharp knocking at the front door before it flew open, a guarded Levi jumping out of his seat with it.

“Yoohoo!” Shouted an all-too familiar voice. “Hange’s here! Are you in the sitting room, dear?”

“Hange!” You called back, a wide grin cracking over your face as you carefully rose from the piano to greet them. “Yes, Levi and I are in here. Come in, come in!”

“What are you doing here?” Levi asked, a little annoyed that his peaceful reading was being interrupted in the middle of a page.

“I brought my newest experiment,” They explained. “I’m handing out free samples to anyone who will try it. I think it’s my best one yet!”

“How exciting!” You were an expert at matching their energy, always happy to have them around to fill up the room with noise and chatter. “What is it?”

“It’s a salve for your hair,” They placed a large, glass jar into your hands. Levi just stared at Hange in disbelief, while they didn’t even bother to meet his eyes. “Will you try it out for me? I’ve already gotten great feedback. You should rub it into your scalp every night before bed to help your hair grow and thicken. I thought you might want to try it since I know you love the smell of lavender. I used so many different—”

Levi just watched Hange yap your ear off about the oh-so-convenient new experiment that they just happened to want you to try, and how you responded with excitement to every word they said. It seemed like you had forgotten all about the incident in the bath a few days ago, or that you didn’t realize that they had made this just for you.

He stood by silently as they sat you down and massaged the salve through your hair, explaining every minuscule step they took to create it and exactly how much to apply for the best results. It’s not like Levi could get a word in if he tried, the two of you could prattle on for days if you both had the time.

After you excused yourself to bed with the jar of salve safely put away for use tomorrow, Levi escorted Hange to the front door.

“You’ll let me know how it works, won’t you, Levi?” They teased. “I’m 100% certain it’ll give great results, and fast. Just wait a couple weeks and see!”

“I’m sure it’s great.”

“I know it’s great,” They waved, stepping out the door into the brisk winter night. “See you tomorrow, Levi!”

“Goodnight.”

Just as he was about to close the door, Levi hesitated as he felt his heart pang a little. It’s been a while since someone had done something so kind for him— for you.

“Hange,” He called. They turned around. The two soldiers only quietly looked at each other for a moment in the dark, both knowing exactly what the other was feeling. “Thank you.”

Hange just grinned again, before turning back around and heading off.

+++++++++++++++

“You’ll have to tell Hange that their experiment was successful,” You noted happily one day as you walked past Levi— His nose perked up at the clean, herbal scent of the salve as you passed. “I’ve already noticed some new little hairs growing in the thin spots.”

Levi had noticed, too. Of course, he had— He knew everything about you. And, he diligently (but secretly) checked every week when the time came to scrub your hair again.

“I wonder if the other people they handed it out to are seeing the same results,” You wondered aloud as you sat at the piano.

He didn’t have the heart to tell you that Hange didn’t give the salve to anyone else, but had three more jars made that Levi had hidden in his room upon receiving them after seeing the quick results of the mixture. It’s a secret he’d take to the grave, probably. The lavender scent helped calm you, helped you sleep better and relax. The other herbs and oils did the same, just like they had rambled about when they first came to gift it.

You had perked up since using it— Wanting to sit at the piano instead of forcing yourself, waking up and going to bed with the sun, having the energy to cook and clean. Some of the stress that held your shoulders down had lifted, and so had Levi’s. He worried about you less when he was gone, knowing your psyche had somewhat balanced itself enough to make it through the dark, dreary winter.

By the time the earth began to thaw, the air blew warm, and the flowers started to bloom again— Your hair shone in the sunlight, strong and healthy, back to its original glory.

A soft cloud of clean and floral scents wafted around you every day. Levi left the bathroom every week without clumps around his fingers, back to diligently scrubbing the dirt and oil from the softness of your scalp without worry. He could help style your hair the way you loved every morning without clenching his jaw as stray strands fell to the floor.

Most of all, Levi started to love the way his hands always smelled of lavender, and knew that he’d never, ever tire of it.

© vorfreudevortex // all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, or repost my work.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

i hc that Marc has a biting kink. I just wanted to put that out. Marc is the kind of guy to suck first, pull back for split second- CHOMP

I am politely screaming!

(I blended this ask with another one, which I hope is okay!)

Late

Marc Spector x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Warnings: Sleepy sex, p in v sex, biting, love bites, pet names, cream pie, pussy smacking (but softly), Marc being a bit drunk on pleasure, not beta read, like really, really not beta read, I'm sorry, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 823

You gasp, arching your back as Marc pushes into you lazily from behind. His chest is warm against your back, his legs intertwined with yours and caught up in the bedding. 

You’d been about to fall asleep when he’d come back home. He’d tried to get into bed quietly, so as not to disturb you. But you’d wriggled back, pressing your ass against his crotch and muttering ‘I missed yous’.

One of his arms is squeezing your hip, urging you to rock and roll against him however you want, matching your pace as he languidly thrusts inside, rubbing your walls perfectly with the head of his cock. 

His other hand is wrapped under your neck so he can palm your jaw, pushing your head to the side so he can lick into your mouth and mutter nonsense against your lips. 

“Fuck, baby,” he gasps and moans, maveling in how your pussy squeezes and pulses, pulls him deeper inside. He pants, groaning, “You’re so warm and wet, god.” He shivers, bucking a little harder and whining when you flutter around him. 

He can’t help himself as he mouths at your neck, sucking and licking at your skin as he just lets himself sink back into the sensation, lets his mind slip into a buzzing quiet as his body’s craving for pleasure takes over. 

“Marc,” You whine his name, wriggling as you push back to get the best angle. He growls a reply, his eyelids fluttering closed as he sinks his teeth into your neck and sucks hard. 

You moan, shivering in his arms as he bites, littering your skin with bruises. 

His chest rumbles against your back as his grip on your hip tightens, his teeth pressing ever so slightly firmer. 

You gasp his name again, rocking back harder as you chase your pleasure, needing to feel him stretch the deepest part of you. 

He mutters your name between bites and snaps of his teeth, suddenly rolling onto his back and pulling you with him like you weighed nothing. No matter how many times you bear witness to his superhuman strength, it still surprises you. 

Marc keeps you pressed against his back, rocking up into your heat as he moves from one side of your neck to the other to feast. He bends his knees, forcing them between your legs and spreading them wide as he fucks up into you, moaning as his cock bullies in and out. 

“Marc,” you writhe, reaching back for him and he growls again, grabbing hold of your arms and holding them to your chest as he plants his feet and moves faster. 

He pierces the very heart of you, spearing so deep you think you can see stars. Your thighs shake as you’re stretched over the thick base of him, pleasure bubbling and building in your stomach. 

He moans in your ear, his breath hot. “Fuck, fuck,” he mutters between nips at your skin. “Letting me fuck you like his,” he whines. “Letting me get so deep. You’re so good to me.” He swallows, spreading his legs wider so you're pulled tight as a drum. “You’re gonna make me come.” He kisses your pulse point, darting out his tongue to lick your skin and groaning when you shiver. 

He rolls his hips, thrusting up harder, faster, making the bed creak under his strain. He snakes his free hand down your stomach, and for one glorious second you think he’s going to rub your clit. But instead, he spreads his fingers out on either side of it, keeping his palm pressed against your lower belly. 

You gasp. “Marc, please.” 

He moans a response. 

“Please!”

“How much do you want it?” He groans, his eyes dark and hazy. 

“So much, please, please!”

He nips at your shoulder, rolling his hips in an almost hypnotic fashion. “So much, so desperate, you’ll take anything?” 

“Yes!”

“Fuck.” He swallows, the pressure at the base of his spine almost erupting. Without thinking he raises his fingers from your skin and then lightly smacks them down onto your clit. 

You jolt, moaning loudly. 

“Fuck.” He does it again rapidly, smacking with just enough pressure to send a thrill up your spine as he presses. 

You cry out, clenching around him and Marc screams. He comes hard, pulsing and spurting deep inside you as he fills you, whining your name the whole time. 

Quickly, he presses his fingers down, rolling and rubbing your clit in the rapid circles he knows will push you over the edge after him. 

You gasp, tensing and convulsing as you come on his cock and against his fingers. Pleasure floods your veins, whitening out your vision and liquifying your muscles. You moan loudly as he drags your orgasm out, pulling you thin as his thrusts become lazy and sated. 

He can’t help but buck up a few more times, groaning at the thought of pushing his come deeper inside of you. 

Thank you for reading!

Taglist:

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @lonelyisamyw-0love @romanarose  

@steven-grants-world  @blushingrn @to-be-a-sunshine  @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87

 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @hammerhead96  @mylittledelulucorner

@queerly-anxious  @swiftiegirliepop @oscarssimp  @eternallyvenus @lounilu 

@pigeonmama @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @sub-aro @faretheeoscar

 @queerponcho @twwcs @ingoldthewizard @ominoose @ierofrnkk

@have-you-seen-my-sanity @missdictatorme @musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick @lemonzestinmydrink

@sonotpractical @junggoku @julesonrecord

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[alotofpockets]

Long distance date night | Mary Earps x ManUnited!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "I was having a bad day until I heard your voice."

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

-----

Four goal opportunities. Four chances you missed. When the final whistle blew you looked around the pitch for your girlfriend, like you had always done, but she wasn’t there. It hit a little harder today, your girlfriend no longer stood between the goalposts at United. 

Maya was by your side first, noticing the way you were staring at the goal where Fallon was sitting. She wrapped her arms around you in quiet understanding. You let her hold you for a moment. “Sorry I messed up,” you say barely above a whisper.

Your captain leans back out of the hug and puts her hands on your shoulders. “You didn’t mess up, you were one of our best players today. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” You wanted to believe her, but if you had just finished one of the goal opportunities you would have been able to at least tie the game.

She noticed that you weren’t fully believing her words, so she tried a different route. Looking back at your goal where your eyes had gone to again. “I know she is proud of your performance. I’m sure Mary was watching along and cheering you on every step of the way.”

You give her a small smile, “Thank you.” She nodded and patted your shoulders before moving on to the next teammate who looked like they could use a pep talk. She was good at the whole captain thing. 

While you still weren’t happy with your own performance and beating yourself up over the missed opportunities and the loss, you walked around the pitch to thank the fans for their support.

There was only one thing you were looking forward to though. Date night with Mary. Date nights had become a little different now that you were doing your relationship long distance, but you made it work. Tonight’s plan was to call and cook dinner together, the same meal so it really felt like you were having a dinner date.

On the way home from the match, you picked up all the ingredients that you would need for the recipe that you had picked out together. You weren’t totally present on the trip, your mind still a bit clouded with thoughts and replays of the match, but you managed to get everything on your list.

After a quick shower you put your laptop on the counter and got the video call with Mary ready. The moment you saw her, your face lit up. “Hi baby.” She smiled back, “Hi love. How was your day?”

“I was having a bad day until I heard your voice." Mary smiled softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” With a shake of your head you say, “Just the match, nothing to worry about.”

Mary didn’t just want to leave it at that. “Love, I watched your match start to finish. You played incredibly, player of the match for me for sure.” You roll your eyes at her jokingly, “You’re just saying that because you’re biased.”

Your girlfriend shakes your head, “I might be biased, but I think everyone would agree with me in saying you were the team’s best player today. What did Maya say to you after the game? I’m sure she agreed with me.” Of course she stayed to watch the post-match coverage as well. You sigh deeply, “That I was one of the best players, and shouldn’t be so hard on myself.” You look up at the screen again, “And that you would be proud of me if you were watching.”

Her smile grew, “See, not biased, just speaking facts.” She got you laughing again. “Okay, enough about me now. How was your day?” She talked about her day while you both started chopping your vegetables, and soon the distance didn’t seem to be so much. 

With all the veggies chopped, showing Mary you cut them just the way she liked it, it was time to put them into the pan and really start cooking. You felt Mary’s eyes on you as you transferred the veggies from the cutting board into the pan. “What?”

“I wish I could hug you right now. You look like you need it.” Mary’s words hit a little harder than usual after the day you’ve had, and her words bring tears to your eyes. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you cry.” You smile through the tears, “I know you didn’t. I just miss you so much. I looked back at the goal today, you know like I always used to do, but you weren’t there. I know we’ve got this whole long distance thing down, but in moments like that it just hits a little harder that you’re no longer right there.”

Mary nodded, she knew moving away was going to be hard, and moments like this were going to be tough. You had built up a routine together, a different one for whichever way a match would go, and now she wasn’t there to do that with you. 

Your girlfriend being her usual self, thought it was best to lighten the mood with a joke. “Make sure your tears don’t end up in the pan, we don’t want the food getting too salty.” You look at the screen with a blank expression before busting out laughing. “Good one.” You comment as you wipe away your tears. 

With dinner now simmering, you feel into deeper conversations again. You loved how just being on a video call could make it feel like she was right there beside you. Eating together was such a nice way to connect with each other, especially on days where you felt like she was worlds away.

Long distance was new for the both of you, but you were making it work. At the end of the day, Mary would always be one call away. And as you both raised your glasses to the screen, a makeshift toast that was entirely unnecessary but brought a smile to both your faces, it felt like she was home.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also support me by leaving a tip 💗

[ragnarockz]

WE NEED THE NEW MAYA BREEDING FIC IT IS URGENT AFTER RECENT EVENTS (❤️please)

Tip Jar 💰

💛🔒 Maya Playlist tooooooooo

Maya x Readed COMING RIIIIIGHT UPPPP just as I'm coming too...what?! Who SAID that?! 🫠🫠🥵🥵😵‍💫😵‍💫

UHHHH HUHHHHHH ASK AND YALL SHALL RECEIVE! Open your mouth and take it, baby!

You had basically thrown yourself at Maya the second she dragged you into her bedroom with her hand tight around your neck. It was an intensity within her and yourself you had never seen before; basically throwing yourself for her to use in however you saw fit.

You managed to scramble and wiggle your way out of her grasp and felt her sharp manicured nails scratch the soft of your neck. You stared at her, dead in the eyes as you stripped down to nothing in such a hurry one would think your clothes were on fire and setting you ablaze as well.

Her bed was right there behind you and you knew where it was in proximity to where you currently stood in her bedroom; knew the ins and outs of it now with the amount of times she had dragged you in here to fuck your brains out. That's exactly what you wanted from her now and nothing more. Mind-numbing, toe-curling sex that shouldn't even be called sex; you wanted her to fuck you senseless.

You turned your back to her as you started to walk towards her bed. Hitting the edge with your legs, you flopped forward and lay there until your body and instincts took over, and you very quickly and provocatively lifted your hips and spread your legs in an act of submission You pressed your hips down as you tried to grind into her bed, feeling the already painful throb of your clit and the dull clench of your insides wishing you already had Maya Mason's cock buried deep within you.

You heard her laugh then; cold and mean, and your stomach dropped, and you swore you were already dripping onto her sheets.

"You get more and more fucking desperate, don't you? God, it's embarrassing! Your ass and cunt so high up in the air, one would think you're in fucking heat!"

Her words were like a gut-punch, like a burning cold that turned boiling. You were wet without a doubt; could feel it against the front of your thighs; could smell it.

"...maybe you shouldn't...waste the opportunity, Maya..."

You managed to mumble out from under your breath, your face turned to its right side so she could head your words. You only heard her take a step or two closer to you and the bed before her words cut through the silence like an axe.

"Begging me already? God, you really are fucking pathetic, kid. I know I tell you this every fucking day at work but fuck...maybe you need to be a little bit more clear about what you have your pussy on display for..."

Her words drill into you and you hope that same sensation happens actually inside of you with the aide of her silicone toy you've come to desperately love. You bit your lip and swallow back a moan before mumbling out as loudly as you can.

"I...I want you to come inside of me...I...want you to knock me up..."

"Mmm...a little better but not qui-"

"I want you, Maya Mason, to use me like your own personal..."

What was the word she had used that one time with you? Buried so deep she was missing pumping back into you and her cock kept hitting the back of your thighs; causing them to bruise over the course of days?

"...cumdumpster..."

The air seemed to crackle in the room as the energy shifted dramatically. You felt her hands first, out of nowhere, as she grabbed your ass cheeks and pushed you harder down onto the bed. Intensity sparked as you heard the 100% silk sash of her robe rustle and fall so she could expose herself and the toy she had waiting and ready snug around her waist, sitting proudly in her harness. The sudden jolt between your legs made you moan as she slotted her right knee upwards and just barely rubbed at your clit and cunt with it. You were ready to fold right then and there.

"When I first hired you, I didn't realize how much of a desperate slut you were going to turn out to be for me..."

Your only response to that was a whiny, high moan.

"Not even asking for me to fuck you but to breed you! Jesus fucking christ, you are the most pathetic fucking thing, aren't you? You just want me to..."

You feel her knee pull back as she lips your hips up and back; drawing you closer to the head of her cock.

"...come inside of you and knock you up."

One single push forward by Maya's hips filled you up until you felt the tip of her cock push all the way up and hit it's resistance inside of you; tears springing in the corner of your eyes as you choke back a sob.

Unrelentless. Cold. Calculating.

And just as sexually aroused and depraved as you.

You didn't have time to think or even react as she pummeled herself into you; nails sinking into the side of your hips as she kept you face down and ass up to her liking. You lost count of how many times she filled you; how many times you felt her pump into your embarrassingly soaked pussy. It was only when her left hand released from your hip to grab your hair and lift your head up from her bed.

"You need to use your words, you little slut...doesn't sound like you want this as badly as you did before..."

Your eyes had rolled back into your head, and your mouth had felt like it was stuffed with cotton; tar coating your tongue that stopped you from speaking. You swallowed hard and almost choked; sputtering as you tried to clear your throat.

"M...Maya...please..."

"What the fuck is that?!"

"Maya....please...pleaseknockmeupohmygod...fuck please! Please!"

Her hand grips tighter around your hair as she pulls you back even more; feeling the sharp curve of your lower back. She can barely fuck you this way; the angle too sharp and your body too coiled. But does Maya Mason care as she continues her tight little thrusts into you? The way her right hand now leaves your hip to go to her own? Tears blurring your vision as you want nothing more than to feel her fill you up with her cum.

Her thumb expertly grazes the top of the plunger; nail scratching the plastic thoughtfully. She waits for you to catch your breath and buck your hips back, fucking yourself now on her cock inside of you. That's all the motivation she needs now as she bends over onto you; breasts to back as she pushes down onto the plunger.

You feel her fill you and you know she can feel it; can feel the way her cock twitches inside of you. You moan loudly into the air; your face not covered as she holds you still by your hair. You know she wants to hear you, see your face. You know she wants to see you drop your jaw and ride out your pleasure; completely overtaken with being bred by her.

"Ohfuck...ohMaya....please...pleasefuckingfillme..."

And you know you don't have to ask because you can feel it inside of you, mixing with your own wet release. You can feel it overflowing; dripping down your folds and inner thigh. You know for a fact then that she overfilled the ejaculating toy so that this would exactly happen.

She lets go of your hair and your body flops forward once again. You feel your body is overly sticky with sweat and your muscles limp. You never want her to stop; can't have her stop fucking and cumming inside of you.

And she knows it. Maya Mason knows it. Because she keeps going; persistent in the way you know that's overkill. If she was going to fuck you and put a baby inside of you, she had done it tenfold.

But she wasn't close to being done, not when she pulled herself out of you to turn you over onto your back so you could face her now. You hadn't realized how easy it was for her to turn you over; how easily it was for her to drag you to the end of the bed so you dangled over it once more.

You stare up at her with half-lidded eyes and feel your mind start to drift. You're completely drenched; numbed and blissed out but you know she's nowhere near done. You know it because she pushes back into you and laughs; laughs as she fucks you.

[gay-dorito-dust]

We need more bitting for those silly goofs 🙏your last one made me think about it the entire day !!! if possible this time pre relationship 🤔 bless ya cause you re pumping dmc content like your life depends on it and I'm loving it ♥️♥️♥️♥️

the fic that annon is referencing is right here:

The fic

Dante

Biting can still be a thing that happens with Dante before your relationship, but I think that it’s more playful and stupid, such as him asking you to bite him harder to see whether he could handle it.

His demon side could definitely handle the hardest of bites you could possibly muster, but his human side cannot obviously. He’s dramatic as fuck about it but then again it’s Dante, when is he not dramatic about something.

‘You almost bit my finger off!’ He cries.

‘You’re a half demon, you can heal.’ You reminded him and he stops acting as though he’s in indescribable pain.

‘Oh yeah I can.’ He then stares at the finger that was now fully healed from your bite mark, wiggling it for the sake of wiggling his finger and smiling.

‘I fucking hate you.’ You say.

‘I’d say that’s the first step to slowly getting you to admire you like me.’ Dante retorts and you’re left wondering how this red coated fool could even be allowed to be like that in general, all the while fighting back a smile of your own. You had to admit the man had charm.

He only nibbled on your fingers, but still this is only playful and doesn’t mean any more than that, playful.

Biting between you two wasn’t seen as a claim or anything, it was seen as something as silly and goofy and something you did when there was nothing better to do then bother the other person. Biting is a form of fun for you both pre and post relationship that wasn’t in any way sexual, not at all, just something that is done when one or the other is bored.

He will still probably fake moan as well because again it’s Dante, he’ll try to publicly humiliate you whenever possible for a laugh you can share about later.

Vergil

There’s most likely no chance in hell that Vergil would bite you or you bite him pre-relationship.

After all biting is more of a claiming of something that’s already been pre-established between two demons, a reminder to all that they were taken and a challenge for those who never get the message. That’s how it is in his demon brain.

So him biting you before a relationship isn’t something he’s willing to do at all, he’ll most likely still be looking at ways to win you over however he can, whether that’s through poetry and notes of any kind or just being within your presences whenever he could.

If Vergil has interest in you then biting is the last thing he’d do when there’s other ways of winning your affections, of winning you over such as showing off his strength during combat, or taking care of the demons causing you the most issues and piling them in front of you in hopes of praises or acknowledging of his power.

Though while biting is off the table, scenting is not, he will scent any clothing you may have in hopes that other demons or humans will know that you were already within the sights of another, that and they should fuck off if they didn’t wish to meet an unfortunate end. The image of him scenting your stuff is enough to have him embarrassed to how low he has stooped in order to hopeful claim a partner/mate of his own, but also a taxing time as he was trying to make sure every inch of your clothes had his scent and only his.

If he found you with a scent that wasn’t his? He’s re-scenting your entire wardrobe until it was gone and replaced by him. It’s bothersome as it was tiresome but Vergil knew it would be worth it in the long run, for your protection and progression of your future relationship.

He has other ways of staking claim to things that are his or will be his in future.

[gwenie-clorrisan]

Prime Problem (and fixing it)

One thing that makes me kind of upset is that Sonic Prime is, in fact, cannon. There's nothing wrong with it, per say... don't get me wrong, I really enjoyed it. But one fact alone is enough to irk me... The fact that Rouge is apparently closer to Sonic than she is to Shadow now.

For a while now, Sega has had an urge to make the main cast a group of five. It's happened for both Boom and Prime now, with the fifth character being exchangeable (either Stix or Rouge). Stix I was fine with; she fit the narrative, had great chemistry with the cast, and was just an enjoyable character to watch. Rouge on the other hand I've never been a big fan of in the first place. I know people do love her, but most of her charm from the very beginning was based on her chemistry with dark characters. Case in point, Team Dark (Sonic Heroes), where she's definitely closer to Shadow than she is to anyone on Team Sonic (including even Knuckles). While she was great in Prime and I loved all of her variants, I think there's definitely a better candidate for the fifth character. A much better one, who needed more time in the spotlight, desperately more. I'm talking about Cream the Rabbit.

No, this isn't only about the fact Cream will forever be my favorite character. It seems that Sega (along with most fans) have forgotten that Cream was designed to be the fifth main character of the cast. She was around for SO MANY GAMES, until she abruptly vanished after Heroes. She wasn't seen for years until reemerging in obscure places (like the olympics as a judge), or Generations (where everyone was). I hear excuses like "Oh, she's only six, they can't have her in something like Forces, that's a literal war." Dude. Charmy was there. He's six. And what, did Sega retcon the ages of every character EXCEPT for Cream? She's literally only two years younger than Tails, people! And if Big can be in Prime, why couldn't they just complete Team Rose? I WANT TEAM ROSE DYNAMICS!!!!!

Anyway, with that out of the way, let's address the real issue: How Prime would have affected Cream. (I'm mainly going to put her in places replacing Rouge, but I can also see her and Rouge being side-by-side in the shatter verse as well, take your pick) She'd get quite a bit of character development, like how the rest of the characters did, with her own special twist (yes, Cheese would also be here... for most things)

First up, No Place. This is the easiest one. Have her as part of the crew, not too much happens. She can have a small job and be a bit of the peacemaker among the group of pirates. When it comes down to it, she and Cheese can both throw a pretty good punch. (I wanna see Cheese in an eyepatch)

Next is Boscage Maze. This ones a bit more tricky, because it's a bit harder to replace Rouge. She could definitely be the voice of reason of the tree dwellers, helping them steal whatever food they can from the forest... or, she could be something of a mediator between them and Thorn Rose, since she could have some sort of closer relationship to the Amy variant. I think that if she does live strictly with the tree dwellers, that would be because something happened to Cheese when the Thorn turned on them, and she couldn't really forgive her. They would probably be reunited in the end.

Finally, New Yoke. There are two possible ways this one could play out. One, Cream plays the role as "little leader", an unexpected leader in a rebellion against the Chaos Council, with an army of chao behind her that she's raised in hopes of a better future. Or two, she discovered Nine a while back, and is determined to follow him everywhere (he possibly accidentally saved her from some sort of bullying, and she just attached herself to him). For the first option, she'd have a lot more cheery, positive attitude, yet would be able to snap at people who get out of line. For two, she'd be quiet and apathetic, and probably even more distrusting of Sonic than Nine was. If we go the second option, we'd see her standing by Nine even as he goes insane, and she could possibly turn on him for his own good. (I personally like the second option better) For either one, Cheese is no where in sight, probably because of some disaster that befell him.

Anyway, this has gotten really long, but it was fun to come up with possibilities! Which ones do you like, you guys? If there's ever a continuation, I hope they include my girl <3

[ghoul-slime]

Veiled

Wrote a little follow-up to this fic (originally prompted by @carnivore-voyeur ) because I CANNOT stop thinking about Dew in the veil.

Pairing: Aether/Dew Rating: Explicit Words: 1272 Tags: blowjobs, anal sex, religious kink, uniform kink, feminization, dirty talk, roleplay

Read it here or over on Ao3

The first thing Dew does is drop to his knees between Aether’s splayed thighs and look up at him through long, blonde lashes. The way the veil frames his face is perfect, the dark fabric contrasting beautifully against the pale skin of Dew’s cheeks, framing those high cheekbones and sharp jawline.

But Aether only gets to admire his face for a moment before Dew wraps his pretty lips around his tip and sinks down, taking him into his hot mouth and deepthroating him in one smooth, perfect motion. Aether leans back and watches Dew bob up and down his shaft - the way he can only see the top of the ghoul's veiled head is delicious. Dew is almost totally obscured by the fabric and somehow it heightens the sensation of that hot little mouth wrapped tight around him, the way he takes him down his throat so easily and swallows.

Aether leans back and lets Dew work for a while before he chances a touch. Reaches out and smooths his palm across the top of the veil, light as a feather. He fully expects Dew to pull off and bat his hand away, to scold him for touching, but Dew just hums around him and sinks down deeper, until Aether feels the tip of his cock bump the back of Dew’s throat. 

Dew holds him there and swallows. Works his throat until Aether is moaning, head tipped back and jaw slack. He sucks him until he’s about to bust, Aether gripping the top of the veil harder than he means to, crumpling that soft, pristine satin between his calloused fingers as Dew sucks the life out of him, completely undeterred.

Aether cums with a groan, shoots his load into Dew’s hot, waiting mouth - who swallows without hesitation. Dew pulls off just as Aether starts to go oversensitive, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, another smug little grin pulling at his spit and cum shiny lips. 

Evidently Aether got a little bit too handsy, because now the veil sits slightly askew, mussed just enough that a few strands of blonde hair are starting to peek out of the edges. 

The image is enough to get Aether’s cock twitching with interest again.

Later, when Aether has Dew pressed face first into the mattress, spread out in front of him on his hands and knees, he tells him just how pretty he looks in that veil.

“Oh aren’t you just so good for me,” Aether coos sweetly as he rails Dew into the bed with swift, strong strokes. Hard enough that he can see the fabric of the veil jump with each thrust.

“Like a good nun in her proper little habit,” Aether adds, tightening his grip on Dew’s sharp hip bones. “Just the perfect picture of modesty, aren’t you? Pious little thing.”

Dew plays along, nods his head and gives Aether cute little whimper and a high-pitched whined out please. He grips the sheet with his claws and does his best to spread his thighs just a bit wider, arches his back the way he knows drives Aether crazy.

Aether reaches between them, rubs the pad of his thumb around Dew’s wet rim, stretched tight and pink around his cock.

“What would your Holy Father think of you now, Sister?” Aether growls out. “Nothing modest or virtuous about the way your tight little cunt is swallowing me up. Do you think he’d call you unfit to wear that holy habit of yours?”

Dew murmurs something in response, words muffled by his face pressed into the sheets so Aether can’t quite hear him.

“A what?” Aether pauses mid-stroke, halfway pulled out, dropping the fantasy talk with a puzzled look on his face.

“It’s a wimple,” Dew reiterates, turning his head to the side so Aether can hear him properly. “S’not a habit. The costumers get annoyed with us when we call them habits,” Dew explains, doing his best to wriggle his hips back onto Aether’s cock with an irritated little huff.

Aether goes silent, unsure how to respond.

“Ok, fine,” Dew capitulates with a snort. “You can call it a habit if you want. Since that gets you off…. Pervert.”

Aether just grins and smacks Dew hard across the ass. He presses in deep, fucks into him with a renewed, brutal pace. Until he’s knocking the little ghoul forward with every sharp thrust of his hips, the hot slap of skin against skin ringing out in time with every bounce of that veil. Every thrust sends it more askew, more blonde hair falling out, sweaty and tangled from being covered for so long.

“Gonna fuck the piety out of you, Sister,” Aether grunts digging his claws into the meat of Dew’s asscheeks, sweat pouring down his temples in rivulets. “Gonna fuck you so good it’ll change you. Make everybody know you don’t belong wearing that habit.”

“Please,” Dew gasps out, as high-pitched and feminine as he can manage. Playing his part perfectly yet again.

“Defile me. Make me yours. Let me pledge my vows to you instead of Him.”

At those words Aether tenses, pulls out with a groan and jacks himself off furiously over Dew’s ass until he’s cumming, shooting across Dew’s arched back, painting the expanse of his skin with ropes of glistening white. Strokes himself until every last drop has decorated Dew’s pretty, flushed backside.

When Aether opens his eyes, he realizes his mistake immediately.

“Fuck, Aether, you did not,” Dew pants out, voice hoarse from exertion. Aether’s silence is enough to tip Dew off immediately. 

“Uh oh,” Aether offers, unhelpfully.

Dew just tips his head down into the pillows and sighs. He shouldn’t be mad, it’s his own fault, really.

“Uhh, it’s only a couple spots,” Aether speaks up again. “Barely noticeable I swear! Plus, I’m sure it’ll wash right out…”

“Aeth, it’s silk,” Dew sighs. “I don’t think you can wash cum stains out of silk…”

Dew sits up and pulls the veil off to inspect it, blonde hair tumbling out, sweaty and matted to his forehead and the back of his neck.

Aether bites his lip at the debauched sight before him. Best not to press his luck, as desperate as he is to pounce on the little ghoul sitting in front of him.

He makes it up to him later by laying him down and eating him out, takes his time licking Dew out nice and clean before swallowing down his hard little cock until he shoots down his throat.

And to his credit, he makes a valiant effort to clean the veil as best as he can while Dew snores softly away in bed.

Two weeks later and Aether finally sees the first of the tour photos start to come back in. Dew’s up front as always, commanding the audience with guitar in hand. He’s adorned with a top hat, just a little bit too big for his head, much to Aether’s eternal disappointment. They may have ruined the veil, received a stern talking to from Copia and Papa V, and Aether may have also found himself doing double duty in the infirmary and as the abbey seamstress’ assistant as penance. But when he thinks back to that perfect image of Dew on his hands and knees and panting, wearing nothing but that pretty veil, that soft, black fabric painted white with Aether’s release, he can’t help but feel like he made all the right decisions.

Besides, Aether thinks with a grin, cheeks heating up and cock chubbing up in his pants yet again, in the end they got to keep the veil for themselves.