#but it feels just..... like an obligation

[girlgenius1111]

to be worthy.

and impromptu mother's day fic in the sol-verse it's a difficult day. and a weird day. but it's also a day for family, and for people stepping up to take roles they didn't have to. a day for love, really. angst. but also sickeningly fluffy.

You’d never second guessed yourself more than you were in that moment, parked outside the flower shop, watching people enter and exit the building. It was barely 7am, and you had been there for almost a half hour already. Just sitting. Just thinking. 

Mother’s day. It hadn’t ever been your favorite day. No matter what you did or bought or made, your mom was never very happy with you. She didn’t want anything you could give to her. She didn’t even really want you around. She wanted Ingrid with her on the day, and she always made that very clear. 

This year was obviously… very different. Different because you weren’t speaking to your mother, and you didn’t have to get her anything. You didn’t have to write lies down in a card about how much she meant to you, or buy a gift she’d throw out in a few days anyway. You didn’t have to do any of that; there was no pretending this year, and you weren’t really sure what to feel about that. 

It was suddenly a day with no obligations, but then again… not really. Because if anyone in the world deserved to be celebrated it was Ingrid, and it was Mapi. 

Ingrid was your sister. Mapi was your sister's girlfriend. You knew this. It just felt… inexplicably wrong to let the day pass without acknowledging all they had done for you, all they were doing for you. There was no… older-sister-acting-as-your-parental-figure-day. You were left with this sunday in may, a day that already made your heart ache. Now, you were terribly anxious, too. You didn’t want to overstep, nor did you want to… understep? Too little, too much. Not enough.

Logically, you knew that Ingrid and Mapi would probably be completely fine with anything you chose to get them. You weren’t feeling very logical, though, so you grabbed your phone, and called someone you knew would be. 

“Hi älskling,” Frido greeted, suppressing a yawn. It was quite early for her to be answering the phone, but she wasn’t in the business of not answering calls from you. If you were calling, it was important. 

“Frido, does Ingrid like flowers?” You asked, nervously cracking your knuckles. 

“Flowers? Everyone likes flowers, Solstråle. Why?” 

“I just… I wanted to get her and Mapi something, and I don’t know what to get. I don’t want it to be too much or too little, or ugly or stupid or something they don’t like and I don’t want to make them uncomfortable but-”

The words rushed out of your mouth like someone had turned on a faucet, and Frido sighed, now understanding what you were so stressed about. 

“Hey, Solstråle, relax.” She interrupted. “Flowers are good. Ingrid likes daisies I think. And Mapi loves pink roses. It’s not weird, it’s not too much, or too little. They’ll be happy with anything, really. Don’t overthink it.” 

“Right. Okay. Daisies and pink roses. I can do that.” 

“I know today isn’t the easiest for you, but just try to remember-”

“I have to go Frido, sorry. Thank you, I appreciate you.” You said quickly, not really wanting to get into that  at the moment. The Swede sighed, hoping you’d relax a bit as the day went on, and as you got a good reaction to your gift. 

------

Dropping the flowers off at home, along with the cards you’d gotten, and fleeing hadn’t been your best idea in retrospect. The idea of being with them… when they say what you’d gotten for them and when they read their cards… was nauseating. Sickening. Horrifying. You wouldn’t be doing that. 

You set everything up on the counter, grabbed Scout’s leash and Scout himself, and headed out the door, intending to spend the morning at a cafe just down the street. You had your computer and some school work to finish, which seemed like as good of a distraction as any. 

Back home, Ingrid was lying awake in her bed, as she had been for a few hours. It was only when Mapi rolled over into her, her head clunking against Ingrid’s shoulder, that the Norwegian realized it was probably past time to get up. 

“Morning.” Mapi grumbled, pressing a kiss to the skin of her girlfriend’s shoulder. 

“Good morning,” Ingrid replied softly. The single word, dripping with anxiety, was enough for Mapi to lift her head and blink groggily at the other woman. 

“Something wrong?” She asked. 

“It’s mother’s day.” Ingrid whispered, tears inexplicably clouding her vision. Mapi was sitting up in a flash, pulling the younger woman into her chest. Ingrid nuzzled close to the soft t-shirt Mapi was wearing, inhaling the comforting scent of the woman she loved. 

“Mi amor,” Mapi sighed. “I know, it’s a hard one right now. You don’t have to call her, though. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can cancel lunch with my mom, stay here with Solstråle. We can pretend it isn’t mothers day.” 

Ingrid shook her head, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. “No, your mom deserves to be celebrated. We’ll go to lunch. I want to give Solstråle some space today, but I’m worried about her. And I don’t want to call my mom. That would be like… betraying my sister. I don’t want to speak to that woman. She doesn't deserve it.”

“Okay.” Mapi agreed, running her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair. The Norwegian’s eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, and she relaxed into her girlfriend once again. “We’ll keep an eye on our Sol, and we’ll be quick at lunch. And you can have as many hugs as you want.” 

“Can’t I always?” Ingrid asked with a small smile. 

“You have a point.” Mapi chuckled. “I am going to go make you a coffee, be right back.” 

With that, she rose from the bed, pressing a quick kiss to Ingrid’s lips, heading for the kitchen. Ingrid stayed in bed, worrying about you and how you’d act today, until she heard Mapi call out for her in a strangely choked voice. She was out of bed within a second, rushing down the hall towards her girlfriend. 

“What?! What is it?!” Ingrid shouted, sliding in her socks on the wood floor into the kitchen, looking around frantically. 

She saw Mapi first, staring with tears in her eyes at a little card that had the Spaniard’s name on it. She saw the two vases next, sitting precisely in the middle of the counter. One with daisies, one with pink roses. There was a card with Ingrid’s name on it on the counter, too, and it wasn’t hard for Ingrid to connect the dots. Her first concerns were with her girlfriend, though, who’s lip was wobbling dangerously, as she blinked rapidly down at the card in her hand. 

“María?” Ingrid murmured. “Baby, are you-?”

Mapi blindly reached a hand out towards Ingrid, a hand that the Norwegian took. Gently, Ingrid rubbed her girlfriend’s back, reading the card over her shoulder when Mapi tilted it slightly in her direction. 

María,

It’s mother’s day, and it didn’t feel right to let today go by without telling you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You allowed me into your home without a second thought. You met my stubbornness and hostility with love and kindness, and I will forever be grateful to you for that. You love Ingrid so deeply, and I couldn’t wish for a better partner for my sister. I think I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be as good of a person as you are. I hope you like your flowers, and I hope you know how much you mean to me.

Love, Solstråle.

By the time Ingrid had finished reading, Mapi had turned in her arms, burying her face in the crook of Ingrid’s neck, and was sobbing quietly. They were happy tears, Ingrid realized. Emotional, but happy. Ingrid couldn’t do much but hold Mapi tightly to her, and press kisses into the top of her head. 

“She means every word, you know? And she’s right. You are the best person I know, the kindest, the most loving. You deserve the flowers, María.” 

That set off another round of tears, bringing a small laugh out of Ingrid, always astounded and impressed by how emotionally… healthy her girlfriend was. 

“Damn you Engens. Making me cry.” Mapi huffed, using Ingrid’s shirt to wipe her tears away. 

Ingrid took her girlfriend’s face in her hands, carefully kissing her lips. “Because we love you very much.” 

“Cut it out, Ingrid.” Mapi complained, though she was smiling shyly. “Open your card, I want you to cry.” 

Ingrid laughed, reaching for her own card, though she hesitated before opening it. Mapi had moved to get the coffees going, but turned to glance at Ingrid when she fell silent. 

“Open it.” Mapi encouraged, turning away to give Ingrid space to read. 

It was another little card, in your big handwriting, a bit longer than Mapi’s. Ingrid took a deep breath, trying to stave off tears before she even started reading. 

Ingrid,

Mother’s day is weird now. It kind of always has been, but I’m sure it’s weird for you now, too. I hope today isn’t too difficult for you. You are a lot more to me than a sister. I’ve always looked up to you, always seen you as a role model. And I still feel that way. Now, though, you’ve taken me in and been so patient with me. More patient than I deserve. I feel safe here, with you. For the first time in a really long time. Safe and loved, in a way I had kind of forgotten existed. Ingrid, you changed my life. You saved my life, too. I’ve never felt very worthy of love or care, but it’s so readily available here. And if someone as good as you thinks that I am worthy of your love, your time, your attention, then I must be. At least a little bit. There aren’t enough flowers in the world to express how thankful I am for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you Ingrid. Really, just thank you. I love you very much, even if I don’t always show it or say it. 

Love, Solstråle. 

And now Ingrid was crying, and Mapi was abandoning the coffee to pull her into a tight hug, and you were walking in through the front door at just the perfect time. You had just barely unclipped Scout’s harness before you were being forcibly pulled upright into some kind of suffocating group hug.

And normally, something like this would have probably made you uncomfortable. You felt yourself melting into the hug, though, before you really knew what you were doing. Embarrassment flooded you. Regret flooded you. Because even though the hug was nice, you felt dangerously exposed. Dangerously vulnerable. 

------

You insisted that Ingrid and Mapi go to lunch with Mapi’s parents and her brother, without you. Both girls tried to explain, while respecting your privacy as much as possible, why you had stayed home, although Mapi’s mother was rather insistent that she wanted you at lunch, too. You were part of the family, after all. 

It was only when you were home alone, curled up on the couch with Scout, that the reality really hit, that questions you didn’t want to consider really started to flood into your brain. 

Had they really liked the flowers? The cards? There wasn’t much time to talk, as they’d had to get ready for lunch, and both of them had clearly been crying. Maybe… maybe they didn’t really like what you had to say? Maybe you were putting pressure on them to be something they weren’t. It was so easy for you to spiral into self doubt when you were left to your own devices. 

Should you have called your mom? 

No matter how much time passed. No matter how many times Ingrid and Mapi told you that you hadn’t done anything wrong, that she had been the issue. You were pretty sure you’d always blame yourself, at least a little. You’d spent so long thinking you were at fault, and that kind of thinking was hard to break out of. Knowing that you weren’t to blame, and really believing it were two different things. And something was easier about blaming yourself. Safer. 

Maybe you should have called. Maybe you should take the first step. She was your mother, after all, and you only had one. You couldn’t help the guilt that began to suffocate you, the insecurity, the self hatred. 

You wished you could just hear Ingrid and Mapi tell you that they loved you, that you were a good person, and believe it. You were kind of afraid, though, that you’d never fully believe that. 

The best thing to do, the most logical thing, was to shut yourself in your room for the rest of the day. So you took Scout and some snacks and buried yourself under as many blankets as you could, tucked away in your room. A closed door between you, and the avalanche of emotions and feelings you’d let out earlier in your cards. 

Too vulnerable. You’d been too vulnerable, and there was no taking it back, and that was terrifying. Being vulnerable in the first place wasn’t easy, but not wanting to die afterwards was even harder. 

-------

Ingrid and Mapi returned from lunch to find the house dead silent. Your bedroom door was tightly shut, and when Ingrid peaked her head in, you had been pretending to be asleep. So, she headed for the living room, tucking herself into the corner of the couch, thought after thought running through her head. 

Had she been too emotional with you earlier? Had you not really meant what you’d said in your letter? Were you just trying to be nice? Ingrid had learned not to push you before you were ready for something, and she felt like today, she had. She should have played it cooler, not made it as big of a deal. 

And, fuck, she should have called her mom. 

She shouldn’t have, but she should have, and there was no correct answer in her head. Either decision made her feel like she was being bad. A bad daughter or a bad sister. 

And now she was being a bad girlfriend, because Mapi had been trying to get her attention for several minutes, and she’d been too spaced out to notice. 

“Ingrid!” Mapi said again, this time reaching out to grab onto her girlfriend’s hand and squeezing. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was distracted.” Ingrid said. “What?”

“I checked on Sol. She seems upset. You should go up there and talk to her.” 

“No, no, today has been a lot for her, she has to process her emotions.” Ingrid said, shaking her head. “She doesn’t want to see me right now.”

Mapi resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly. The two of you were both hyper aware of the others’ feelings while simultaneously being too afraid to actually talk about said feelings. You needed each other, today, and Mapi was done trying to get you to figure that out yourselves. 

“Enough of this. Vamos.” She stated decisively, standing up from the couch, grabbing Ingrid’s hand and pulling. Ingrid groaned her annoyance, but went somewhat willingly.

Mapi dragged her up the stairs, knocking on your door before entering upon your response. You were still on your bed, trying to hide the evidence of your almost constant tears, when Mapi entered the room with Ingrid in tow. 

“Alright. Both of you need the other right now. Sol, Ingrid isn’t mad at you. Ingrid, Sol isn’t mad at you. Everything is fine. Stop overthinking.” And with that, paired with a small shove to Ingrid’s back, pushing the Norwegian in your direction, Mapi looked between you two expectantly. 

You looked very cautiously, but also somewhat hopefully, up at your sister. 

Ingrid looked at you similarly, taking a hesitant step closer to the bed. “What do you need, Solstråle?” She asked, determined, at least, that you get better about asking for what you needed. If it was space, she'd respect that. And if it was a hug? Well. Good. Because she really needed one too.

You shifted slightly, lifting one of your arms in a half gesture. “Sit with me?” You requested. 

Relief flooded Ingrid’s face as she all but launched herself onto the bed next to you, instantly pulling you into a tight hug. You were relieved, too, that you hadn’t been too much for either of them. That your love in return wasn’t too much. Your mom had always made you feel like it was suffocating, the way you tried to get her to pay attention to you and love you.

Ingrid and Mapi never did that. They just… gave you what you needed, without a second thought. Before anything else. As you sat squished in between the two of them, listening to all the details from the lunch you’d skipped, you realized that all you’d needed today was Ingrid. Being with Ingrid and Mapi made your head go quiet. There wasn’t room for doubt when they were on either side of you. Mapi trying ridiculously hard to make you laugh. Ingrid combing her fingers through your hair without a second thought. 

You fit here, in this family. With them. They told you you fit, that you were wanted, and that was something that was getting more and more believable as time went on. You had a family, and even if you didn’t really have a mother to celebrate today, you had two people who put you before anything else. People that loved you more than your mother had. You had a family, again. And that was really something to celebrate. 

------

:) happy mothers day to everyone who celebrates, and to everyone that doesn't.

however you feel is valid. if today is hard, or if today is easy, there will always be tomorrow, and tomorrow will be even better.

<3

[sanguineterrain]

"Wanna come over and nap together?"

The first time you suggest it, Jason's bewildered. Nap together? You want to be temporarily unconscious... with him??

Jason's not a nap guy. Never has been. He's always awake, always alert. Even when Bruce took him in, Jason didn't nap. He thought it was childish but even more than that, he never felt relaxed enough to sleep in the middle of the day.

You love naps. Can't get enough of them. You were born sleepy. Done with work/school? Nap. Worn out after getting up early? Nap! Stayed up too late last night? Yeah, it's naptime.

You're always down to sleep. You feel bad sometimes because it can result in sleeping instead of hanging out. But your body needs the extra rest some days.

Jason thinks it's cute that you're his sleepy sweetheart. He admires how you listen to your body and rest. (Working with Batman makes you internalize his motto: rest is for the weak.)

So one day, after Jason's on patrol for 4 days in a row, and you know he hasn't been sleeping, you call him up. "Come nap with me."

Jason warns you that he's never been a napper. "I can come over and wait for you to wake up. Or I can watch you sleep. In a nice, loving way. Not in a creepy way."

You convince him to give it a chance. Just lie down. If you fall asleep before him, he can go do something else.

So Jason obliges. Lays down and lets you curl into him. Snuggles into your warmth. Smells your scent on the sheet, basks in the quiet.

And, for the first time in his life, Jason Todd takes a nap. For 2 and a half hours.

You wake up around the same time. Jason is slow to awaken, and, for the first time, his body isn't in fight or flight mode. He wakes up gently. He wakes up to you.

"So," you say, sitting up. You're nervous because you've got a pretty guy that you really like in your bed, and you're a little worried you kicked him in your sleep or something. "What's the verdict?"

Jason smiles, really smiles, and tugs you back into his arms.

"I had no idea what I was missin'," he says, putting his face in your neck. "Can we do this again? Same time tomorrow?"

[kenntolog]

an: heh it was very cute to write i hope you like it!! read more here!!

cool boyfriend sukuna buys his loser girlfriend a rich berry red lipstick <33

you don't even understand where that came from, looking at the small package with a confused face before you look up at sukuna for answers.

"i thought it'd suit you so I bought it." he says with a small smirk, gazing down at you with a fondness in his eyes. "put it on, c'mon."

as you carefully apply the lipstick, you can't help but think about how thoughtful sukuna must've been when choosing because it suits you very well. the smile hiding in the quivering corners of your lips just proves that it makes you feel flattered and very happy to be considered by your boyfriend.

he's very impatient though, rushing you and hanging over your head as he watches you glide the lipstick over the plushness of your lips like a kid would watch a cartoon with zero understanding of what is happening on the screen. you finish and put away your phone you used as a mirror, turning to face him with a shy, nervous look.

sukuna stares at you blankly for a few seconds before his hands gently tug off his your hoodie, leaving you only in a small top with thin straps. after that, he threads his fingers through your hair and tousles it around before stopping at a side-part. finally, one of his palms cups your cheek and his thumb wipes off some excess lipstick from your bottom lip, smudging it unintentionally.

his eyes are very appreciative after that, you observe as you wait for him to say something with a baited breath. his fingers get lost in his own hair aas he pulls at it slightly, his expression softening momentarily as his smirk stretches further.

"look at you, loser," sukuna tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before grabbing you jaw and shaking your head from side to side as you whine, "aren't you just the prettiest girl, hm?"

you cover your face with your hands, falling backwards on the bed as you try to suppress the wide smile spreading on your lips. no matter how many times he tells you that you are the most beautiful girl in the whole world you will always have your cheeks hurting afterwards from the happiest smile with shyness rooted in it and your heartbeat spiking up to abnormal speed.

he crawls to hang on top of you, hands on both sides of your head as he smirks down at you.

"now kiss me."

"huh?"

"here," he points to his collarbone.

you look at him unsurely, "it'll leave a stain tho, 'kuna~"

"'s the point. go on."

you lean in and plant a smooch on the spot, right above the neckline of his tee. something inside of you ignites at the sight of it; you know that no one will see him in this state and it makes you feel whole, how you can have him all to yourself. the fire inside of you must reflect in your eyes because sukuna can sense the way you feel too easily as he points at his neck now.

"here too."

you happily oblige, going as far as covering most of his neck with stains. it even gets to the point where sukuna clumsily reapplies your lipstick for you, shushing down your giggles and cursing you for getting in the way of his work with your sweet smile. you kiss his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, his temples, his forehead, between his brows, his chin — anywhere, but his lips, which prompts him to cup your jaw and seal your lips together.

you can never get used to his kisses; always so passionate because sukuna puts his everything into making your mind go blank, and it's never easy to match the pace he sets although you're always eager to try. so sweet, so full of love and lust, it's one of the best feelings for you: his devilish mouth excited to explore each and every cavern of yours.

"you missed here, baby," he mumbles into your mouth and you pull away, both of you panting heatedly.

"sorry, 'kuna."

"you can make it up to me, don't worry."

[lvndosnorris]

charles who grabs your hands and GUIDES them to his hair when he’s eating you out just because he’s that slutty and wants you to pull on his hair. he literally WANTS it.

oh anon this has me feeling flustered... enjoy my lover

there was only word that could describe charles whenever he was between your legs. feral.

like a man starved he would happily spend hours between your thighs, framing his face as he'd steal glimpses of the way you arched your back. you often lost track of how many time's he'd make you cum from his tongue alone, completely enthralled by the way he'd manage to have you on the brink of heaven within minutes. it was a torturous game, especially for you — your body heaving, glistening with sweat as he'd physically smirk against your cunt at the throaty moans that would be falling from your lips and echoing around the room.

you'd fight to keep composure; balling the sheets between your fists, or pinching the flesh of your thighs as a means to keep you grounded. but each flick of his tongue, pucker of his lips around your clit, hum against you: every single one of his crazed actions had your mind numb and your stomach knotted.

"chérie—" charles' muffled whines strummed a nerve inside of you, eyes screwed shut in utter desire as you started to complain at the lack of suction. for a minute you were slapped back into reality, your wrists captured by his hands as he pulled them down until your palms were hovering over his hair, "put them to good use bébé."

it was only then did you tangle your digits through his locks, nails scraping against his scalp as he whimpered starkly. lips damp with your wetness he stared at you, not bothering to dip back down until you forced him to. your desperation was evident as you clamped your legs tighter to his head, guiding him back to where you needed him most as you let his name tumble off your tongue like some filthy mantra.

with one hand snaked between your bodies he parted your cunt, lapping his tongue deliciously as he grunted; the other guiding yours, bending your fingers and grazing your knuckles as he showed you what he wanted you to do. and of course you blindly obliged, too busy caught up in the feeling of wanting to cum more than anything.

[cameronspecial]

The Obligations Of A Fuck Buddy

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and SMUT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 5.2K

Summary: Y/N and Rafe have made it very clear. They are only supposed to be each others' sexual release and that is it. However, what happens to their agreement when the lines start to blur?

Masterlist

Becoming fuck buddies with Rafe was a special choice for Y/N. Her emotions are always on display for everyone around her, so choosing to be with Rafe without any strings attached is out of character for her. However, once she gets to experience the skills Rafe possesses in the bedroom, she is prepared to try to do anything to keep being a part of that activity, including, letting him have his way with her out in the open on his dirt bike. His hand slips down her stomach to her aching core, “Come on, Pet. I know you want this.” He had dragged Y/N away from the bonfire and to his dirt bike hidden from sight anyone. At first, she was unsure about doing anything in public, yet Rafe had a way of convincing her to play along with the game. Her head falls back onto his shoulder, letting out a scrumptious moan. He freezes just within her underwear, “You are going to have to give me what I want if you want me to give you more.” “Please, Rafe. Let me feel your fingers inside of me,” she whimpers. Rafe chuckles and tugs her with him as he leans against his bike. His fingers make contact with her glistening cunt, using her wetness to lube his digits. She hunches forward at the feeling of him plunging into her depths. He begins dragging his fingers in and out of her, causing her eyes to roll to the back of her head.

“You like this, Pet? Being treated like a slut where anyone can see you,” he taunts with his lips pressed against the shell of her ear. Her head bobs, “It feels so good. More, please. Give me more, Rafe.” “My dirty little whore thinks she can tell me what to do. That’s not right. I’m going to have to teach you a lesson,” he tsks. Her eyebrows dip, questioning his words, when his speed increases and he starts to apply pressure to the bundle of nerves at the crest of her womanhood. This helps build a tension within her that is ready to be released. She closes her eyes when she is at the cusp of her orgasm and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe. He removes his fingers from her, bringing them to his lips to taste her. She whines, “No. No. No. Let me come. Please, Rafe.” “I’m sorry, Pet. If that is what you want, then you better get to work. Got to teach you who is in charge,” he warns, eyes flickering to his bugle. 

With his message clear as crystal, she drops to her knees and works on removing his belt. She pops the button of his pants and listens to the zip of his zipper, yanking his pants pass his bum. The tent in his pants causes her to stare at it in appreciation for a second. She knows once she removes his boxer briefs that she’ll be in sight of the thick veiny glory she normally drools over. Rafe grows impatient, “Get to work, Pet.” He hisses at the feeling of her nail accidentally catching his skin a bit. She issues her apology through a kiss to his angry tip. He groans, shoving her parted mouth onto him until he hits the back of her throat. His hands grip the seat of his motorcycle as she removes herself from his length and then brings him back into her mouth. She continues to bob her head on his length until he is spasming in her mouth. He pulls out of her to release himself all over her face and the top of her breasts exposed by her tank top. He yanks her up to her feet by her bicep. Her thumb comes to wipe off the cum on the bottom of her chin and she sucks it into her mouth with her gaze on him. He pulls her lips against his by her chin, “Good job, Pet. I think you deserve what is about to come next.” He spins her around to bend her over his mode of transportation. Her elbows make contact with the leather of the seat and she pops her backside out for him to take what he wants. 

The buckle clangs against itself while he brings the top of her pants and underwear to below her butt. He surveys the environment to see if anyone is around. No one is in sight, so he lines his tip at her opening and slams into her. His balls slap against her bump and his pace causes her to grip onto the seat. Her mouth falls open, letting out into the night her sounds of pleasure. “You are such a slutty girl, Pet. Do you want everyone to know what we are up to? I gotta shut you up so we don’t get caught,” he criticizes. He pulls her up by the hair so her back arches, which allows him to shove his fingers into her mouth. She knows to wrap her lips around the digits to mimic sucking his dick. His other hand stays steady on her waist to allow him to pound into her. 

He feels her tighten around his dick and flushes her against his hips. His hand on her waist drops to stimulate her clit. He doesn’t bother pulling out to just the tip anymore, opting to buck his hips wildly into her. She finally lets the peak of her pleasure roll over her and collapses onto his bike. He continues to thrust into her until he is groaning her name with his release. His DNA stains her inside, oozing out of her as he pulls out. She is on birth control and he always makes sure to send her Plan B the next morning. They aren’t exclusive but have agreed to use condoms with everyone else except each other. Being able to be with each other without any barriers is one of the main reasons they started their sexual relationship. She trusts Rafe to stick to their agreement and she doesn’t care what anyone else says. They get tested on the regular. His fingers tease her entrance to push the leaking substance back into her before hauling her bottoms up her body. “Now, Pet, you are going to go back to that party with the knowledge that only I can make you feel that amazing.” He pats her bum to send her off without any more dialogue between the two. She knows this whole arrangement is a bad idea, yet satisfies every need inside of her and she would be stupid to let him go. 

———

They aren’t a couple. The only obligation they have to each other is a sexual one. It means no feeling, no taking care of each other, and no talking about anything personal while solely in the company of each other. So, technically, she shouldn’t be at his door right now. She had recently heard one of her supposed friends calling her a bitch behind her back and she didn’t know who else to turn to for comfort. Her father won’t care unless it is university-related, she is pretty sure her mother loves her so-called friends more than her, and her brother is living in another state, meaning he can’t provide her with the hug she needs at the moment. She has other friends outside of the two trash talkers, but she isn’t sure who she can trust. So being in his arms is the best solution she can come up with. Her hand shakes as she raises it to the door and lets it rapt against it. She wipes her tears away during a wait for a response. The woosh from the door blows Rafe’s messy hair back. He stretches his arm in the air and curves back before giving her his attention. “Damn, you must be really horny, Pet. We had sex last night,” he grins, reaching for her wrist to draw him against his chest. She jerks away from him with a shake of her head. “I was actually hoping we could talk. Something happened and I need someone in my corn.”

Rafe lets out an annoyed sigh, “That’s not what we do, Y/N.” She notices his shift in what he calls her and second-guesses her attempt. However, she needs this. “I know. But I can’t talk to anyone else because they will be biased and I’m feeling vulnerable, to be honest with you,” she confides. Her teary eyes bore into his. His icy heart is unaffected by the water running down her face. His arms cross, “And that’s my problem how?” Her mouth gapes open in an attempt to find the right words. “We may not be dating, but I at least thought we were friends.”

“Well, we aren’t. So we either fuck or you can leave.” 

She debates the offer in her head. This isn’t exactly why she went to Rafe. Her goal is consolation, not pleasure. She observes the manner in which his muscles flex under her gaze. She trails up to his face and notices how his curtain bangs have fallen in front of his face. It causes her thighs to clench together in want. She answers by smacking her lips against him. He wraps his arms around her, letting him consume her completely. 

———

She doesn’t let herself collapse onto the bed beside him once they’ve both reached their highs. She learned a long time ago that it is easier to leave right away instead of giving herself a moment to recuperate from the bliss. Staying seconds longer would give her the illusion that they could be something more. It’s a delusion to think so. He is always there to remind her of that fact. Today is the epitome of what their relationship is. He doesn’t say anything as she gets off the bed to keep looking for her clothes. He reaches for his phone and scrolls through it. She doesn’t doubt for a second that he is planning his next hook-up for tonight. It takes everything in her power not to let the little bubble of jealousy pop. They aren’t dating. There are no feelings in this agreement she reminds herself. Finally, she is fully clothed and goes to get her phone on the nightstand. She reaches for the doorknob and is stopped by his sharp voice. “Don’t ever come to me again with that emotions shit again, Pet. I won’t hesitate to replace you if you do.” 

———

Cocaine can’t be his vice anymore. He doesn’t know what made him choose to abandon the substance all of a sudden, but a little voice in his head is telling him that it isn’t what he needs anymore. He has been finding himself leaning less and less toward it for months now, so it is about time that he tries to go fully sober. It hasn’t been easy, especially with the consistent antagonizing from his father. “And why should I trust you, Rafe? All you ever do is lie to me,” Ward yells, his face as red as a sunburn and veins bursting from his forehead. Rafe uncharacteristically cowers at his father’s tone, “Because I’m trying to get sober. I promise. I’m hoping it will help me have a clear head more often.” Ward chuckles in a way no family member should at that news. “Like you promised you would buy the generator but actually used the money for your bike. We were without power for a day, Rafe!” Ward criticizes. Rafe runs his fingers through his hair and yanks at the end of it. 

“I’ve already fucking apologized for that! What is it going to take to get you to believe that I’m changing?”

“Going back in time wouldn’t make me alter the way I see you. You are a fuck up, Rafe. It’s all you can ever be. Why can’t you be more like Sarah?”

The shrapnel of his father’s words slits at his heart, causing him to feel betrayed. Rafe storms out of the room and slams the door to his truck shut. His fist slams against the steering wheel with an angry yell. He has to get out of here, yet where would he go? Topper and Kelce would just make fun of him. Sarah and he aren’t exactly close and Wheezie is away for camp. In truth, even if the others were available, there is only one person he wants to be with right now. He takes a deep breath and runs his hands down his face. He starts the car, setting off toward his destination.

———

Y/N is pulled out of her slumber by banging coming from her front door. Her hand darts out to beside her bed to pick up the bat she keeps there for safety. The floorboards creak as she inches her way toward the sound with the bat raised. She can’t hide the slight tremor in her hand as she approaches. “Pet, it’s me. Please, open up. I need you.” She instantly recognizes the voice and rushes to the door. Once the door is open, Rafe is there before her with red eyes. However, she can tell it is from crying and not his normal vice. “Can I come in, please? I can’t be alone right now,” he begs. She brings her lip between her teeth. The petty part of her wants to say no. Wants to remind him that they were fuck buddies, that’s all. Yet, she has heard rumours around town about Rafe trying to get sober and she doesn’t want to risk him relapsing because she isn’t there for him in his time of need. She steps to the side to let him in. She doesn’t expect him to run to her with his arms out. He buries his head into her neck and his arms are around her. She laces her fingers through his hair, “What’s wrong?” She feels his tears hit her skin. “Why can’t my dad accept that I’m not Sarah?” he cries, tightening his hold on her. 

She presses her lips to his forehead for comfort, “I don’t know, Rafe. I want you to know that no matter what he says, you are just as good as Sarah and you matter just as much. Do you want to talk about it more?” She can feel his head shake from side to side against her chest. “No, I really just need to think it all through first. Can I sleep here tonight?” She has never heard him sound so broken before. It is so unlike his confident demeanour. Her response comes in lacing her fingers with his. She leads him to her bedroom and rummages through her drawers for something he can wear. She comes out empty because he is always so stubborn about not mixing emotions in their relationship and leaving a shirt behind counts as that for him. He musters up the ability to laugh, “It’s nothing you have never seen before, Pet.” He doesn’t shy away as he strips off his clothes, leaving him in only his boxers. No matter how many times she has seen his bare chest and toned legs, it doesn’t stop her heart from fluttering. 

She shakes herself out of her shameless stares and snuggles herself under her covers. He slides himself beside her, resting his head on her chest. Her eyes cast downward to see his eyelids are closed. The gentle rise and fall of his chest tells her he is sound asleep. Listening to her heartbeat soothes his aching heart. The steady rhymes remind him that she is looking out for him and he couldn’t be more thankful. 

———

The empty bed beside him makes him panic, except it subsides at the sounds of clatter coming from the kitchen. Footsteps approach the room and she stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips. He has never been here to see the way the morning sun causes a glow to fall on her face. His stomach does a flip at how it accentuates her beauty. The mug in her head lets out the delicious aroma of coffee. “Your clothes are in the dryer and there is coffee in a travel mug for you on the counter. You can return it the next time we hook up,” she announces, turning to go back to the communal area. He didn’t expect her to be so quick with getting him to leave. 

For some reason, the walls of his heart tighten at the thought of her wanting him gone. She follows him out of the room and gets his clothes from the laundry room. After he puts them on, he joins her in the other room. His hand wraps around the purple travel mug, his fingers touch as he brings the cup to his lips. She doesn’t acknowledge his entrance; instead, her eyes remain on her phone that is on the counter. His other hand goes up to scratch the back of his ear, “Do you have work today? I was thinking maybe we can go out to breakfast. You know… So I can tell you about last night.” Her pointed finger freezes over her phone and she doesn’t bother to tilt her head upwards as she looks at him through her lashes. She drops her shoulders and gives her full attention to him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. That would involve emotions and you are the one always sayin-” she tries to explain, ahead of him cutting her off. “Saying that emotions aren’t part of the deal. No, you are right. It isn’t in the bounds of our relationship.” 

She gives him a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sorry. I just think it is best to keep to the boundaries we set. Now that it is morning, you can talk about it with Topper or Kelce. They’ll probably be awake by now.” He frowns. She thinks he only came to her because his friends weren’t an option to go to, while it is partially true, another part of him merely liked the idea of being with her. That couldn’t be right though. She is meant to be a sexual release, that’s it. There had to be a different explanation as to why he wanted to be with her. It’s probably because he was thinking about sex to get his mind off of his argument. Yeah, that is why. “Yeah, that is so right,” he agrees, taking a step back with the travel mug still in hand. “I’m going to head out. Ummm… yeah.” He swings around, almost hitting the closed door because he underestimated the distance. He looks back at her with a nervous smile and steps back. The door whines as he pulls it open and shuts it behind her, leaving her to wonder what has the most self-assured and stubborn person she knows acting like a fool.

———

Rafe’s stare hardens whilst the room around him pays no attention to his line of site. They don’t notice the way her hair wraps around her finger. Or the harmonious giggle she lets out that Rafe swears he can hear even from across the room. Or how she is looking at him the way she used to look at Rafe. Rafe doesn’t remember the moment she stopped having that twinkle behind her gaze when looking at him. It didn’t used to matter to him, yet all of a sudden, ever since that night, it is all he yarns to receive. Now, her focus is on Derek. Derek doesn’t deserve her attention. He doesn’t know how to please her. He doesn’t know her favourite flowers are daffodils because she used to plant them with her grandmother. He doesn’t know the pressure she goes through with her dad about school and how most of her friends from the island are more focused on keeping up appearances as a Kook. She thinks he doesn’t listen to her or notice those tiny things, except he does. His brain is moving a million miles a minute until a bump on his shoulder shifts his notice. 

He looks up to see Topper trying to hand him a red solo cup. The grumpy Kook doesn’t take the drink, much to the annoyance of his friend. “What’s in it?” Rafe gruffs, swatting the outstretched arm away from him. Topper’s smile vanishes, “Jungle juice.” Rafe shakes his head. “I don’t want it,” he grumbles, turning his concentration back to Y/N. Anger fills him at what he sees. Derek’s fingers lace hers and he is tugging her toward the front entrance. His first instinct is to go after them, but then he remembers another part of their agreement. There is no exclusivity between them and this causes Rafe to grab the drink Topper offered. He downs it in one go, getting up to get another one. This is going to be a long night.

———

Y/N doesn’t need a summer job; however, she enjoys working the occasional shift at The Wreck. Tonight is one of the nights when Mike needs her help. She expertly maneuvers herself around the table and heads behind the counter to punch in her new order. At the sound of a voice clearing, she spins around to find Rafe sitting on a stool at the counter. She beams, “Hey, Rafe. What can I get for you?” 

“I don’t know, it depends. How long until your shift is over?”

“I work closing, so I’ll probably get off around eleven.”

“Perfect, I’ll have a burger with friends and a coke. Do you have plans for tonight?”

“Not that I know of, so yes, I can come over.” 

He grins like a child, whose parents told him he can get the toy he has been begging for, and lets her get back to work in hopes it will bring them to eleven faster. 

About half an hour later, a new figure enters the restaurant. Rafe recognizes the buzzed, almost bald, head and the dark chocolate eyes, immediately scowling at the man. The last time Rafe saw him, he was taking Y/N who knows where. “Hi, Y/N/N. How are you?” Derek greets, sitting beside Rafe with a flick of his chin. Rafe looks afraid in fear that his jealousy will show and he’ll get into a fight with the new arrival. She turns to Derek and her smile is so bright that the acid in Rafe’s stomach swirls around the pylorus like it is a drain. He has to control his strength so he doesn’t break the glass in his hand. His ears disconnect with his auditory cortex, not processing the conversation going on between the other two. “So are you doing anything after your shift is over?” Rafe finally catches up with the conversation at Derek’s attempt to make plans with Y/N. He expects her to say she can’t hang out with Derek, yet she doesn’t. She giggles, “I’m free. What did you have in mind?” Not wanting to hear what the man has planned, Rafe gets up from his seat, throws a hundred-dollar bill on the counter and rampages out of the restaurant. The clatter of the dishware because of the stool chair being shoved harshly against the counter causes her to notice Rafe’s exit. She excuses herself from the conversation and her shift, running after him. 

“Rafe, wait,” she yells in a pant. She watches as his footsteps falter and he looks at her. “I thought you were going to wait for me to finish my shift.” He scoffs, avoiding eye contact, “I was. Although, I didn’t see a point in staying once you had plans with Derek.” His words drip with hate when he utters the name. She traces the back of her knuckles; her guilt blossoms in her stomach at the disappointment on his face. “You’re right. I did promise to go to your house. I’m sorry. Let’s go now,” she apologizes. His head whips from side to side, “I’m good. I don’t need your pity.” She steps forward and takes his hand. “It’s not a pity thing. I want to go home with you because you are a good time,” she swears, squeezing his palm. He could benefit from being more angry, except all he wants is to tumble into bed with her. 

It doesn’t take long for them to get to his bedroom. The door closes and he steps closer to her, his warm hands cupping her cheeks. The tips of her eyebrows plunge slightly. His gentleness is something new. Usually, their sex is primal. The typical emotion running rampant was desire. His head drops closer to her and their lips meet in a gentle yet passionate fashion. He cradles the base of the school with his fingers through her hair. She has never felt so adored before. No one has ever given her attention intertwined with love. Her parents are always busy with work or each other. Her friends keep her at a distance, even if they love her. This. This is different. He sets the pace, slowly lifting her shirt and unbuttoning her pants. She matches his speed as she sheds off his clothes. They look each other in the eyes and silently agree that foreplay isn’t something that is going to happen tonight. Because tonight isn’t about getting off. It is about the intimate connection they can form by having sex. He walks her back toward his bed while they kiss, breaking apart so he can pull the sheets back. His head gestures toward the bed and she gets comfortable on it on all fours. 

He smiles and steps behind her. She can feel his hand on her shoulders as he twists them so that she is lying on her back. Her head forms an angle. Their go-to positions are ones where face-to-face contact isn’t necessary. Nevertheless, when they do missionary, it is so that he can choke her easier and harder. She is ready for the moment he enters her to have a little sting and is surprised when he eases his way in. She thinks he is going to through her legs over his shoulder to go deeper inside of her. That never happens either. He rests her legs around his waist, thrusting into her slowly and sweetly. His hands find their way back to her cheeks. She loves the heat it provides her. Her hips buck up with his movement to add to their pleasure and he may not be going as deep as he could, yet the intimacy provides all the satisfaction they need. 

They let out small pants as they worked together to bring each other to their climax. He remains inside of her while they both come down from their highs and collapse beside her. She gets up from the bed, ignoring his release that rushes down her leg. Her hand reaches for a tissue as she grabs her underwear off the floor. She steps further from his bed and he doesn’t stop himself from grabbing onto her wrist. Y/N twirls to look at him with curiosity in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” she worries, trying to see any visible injuries on him. His eyes can’t meet hers and his thumb fidgets with the bone of her wrist, “Can you stay?” 

“Why would you want that? Wouldn’t that make this too personal for us?” 

“Because I want us to be personal.” 

Silence fills the air, both of them processing what he said. He figures he should add more to the statement and sits up. He doesn’t bother to cover himself after the blanket slides off his lap and onto the floor. “I was crazing to think that I could keep things purely physical with you. Because the truth is… I have fallen head over heels for you and the only thing I want is to be personal with you. I want something personal, and romantic, and everlasting. I can’t keep being your fuck buddy, Pet, because I need more from our relationship. I-.” His rant is cut off by her lips colliding with his. She rests her knees on either side of his waist. Their lips disconnect and her forehead touches his. He twirls a strand of hair around his finger as they stare at each other in soft pants. His other hand kneads at the skin above her bum. “I need those things too,” she whispers. He grins like a child, “So I guess that means you’ll say yes to a date.” “I would love to go on a date with you,” she agrees with a smile. They enjoy each other's hold for a few more minutes until he catches her trying to hide a yawn. He stands up and holds the bottom of her thighs to take her with him, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. She doesn’t question when he walks to the bathroom and buries her head in his neck. 

He puts her on the counter and spreads her thighs apart. Her tired eyes watch him wet a wash cloth and clean off the dry cum between her legs, pressing a delicate kiss to her sensitive clit. He straightens to find her a new toothbrush and hands it to her. They brush their teeth together before he gets her a spare shirt from his bedroom. He helps her tug it over her body and carries her back to bed. He lies beside her, bringing the blanket to cover both of them. Throughout the whole routine, seeing her naked body gets him hard again, yet he ignores the rock between his legs and snuggles her into the crook of his neck. She feels how turned on he is and even though she is spent from their earlier round, she offers him a chance of release. “We can go another round if you want.” His head moves from side to side, “No, Pet. You’re tired. Let’s just sleep so you can get your energy back. Maybe in the morning.” She can’t disagree with him; nevertheless, there is something else that they can try that might be able to give him the same sensation he needs and she has wanted to try it. She looks at him with bashful eyes, “What if you put it in and didn’t move? Then we can go to sleep and maybe it will make you not as hard anymore.” 

Surprise flashes across his face and want brews in his stomach. He doesn’t think he has ever heard such a hot request before. He nods and brings the hand thrown over her waist down between their bodies to guide the head of his cock to her entrance. She places her hand on his chest and confirms she is ready for him. His thrust eases himself into her, her hand slightly digging into his skin for comfort. Once fully sheath inside of her, he kisses her and brings her closer to his front. “I love you,” he mutters against her lips. Her eyes are already fluttered shut, except she still hears his confession. “I love you too.”  They fall asleep with him buried in her and a romantic future on their minds.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[fantomeeee]

an art request (sorta????? not really this just popped into my head and i needed to share the idea so i am telling you now because youre the only person i know who shares both these media as like. fixations, also dont feel obliged to draw art dont do that bad for you) isat gang as the magical girls

OMG YES thank you so much for this suggestion!!!!

[daycourtofficial]

Ferocious beasts with soft bellies

Pairing: Eris x Rhys’s sister!reader | WC: 2.5k | warnings: mentions of pregnancy, some violence from dogs

Summary: Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Author’s note: hi everyone!!! Thanks for joining me this week, I hope you had a great time!! This one ends on a note I didn’t expect it to, but I do have plans to write follow-ups I kinda wanted to break this up into two. Also this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read as a standalone okay love ya bye 😘

Eris’s hounds were incredibly well-trained. He spent thousands of hours when they were pups instilling in them commands, tracking and hunting skills, and alerting him to intruders on the property.

At least, they used to be well-trained.

These days Clover, the leader of the pack, would not allow you out of her sight. All twelve hounds wandered through your house as they pleased, often keeping you company in Eris’s absence. They would lounge about, finding warm sunny spots throughout the house to take afternoon naps in. You’d usually have one or two lazily trail you around the house, staying in the beds you had placed in several of the rooms.

Lately their attachment and sudden devotion to you was getting out of hand. Clover was practically sewn into your side the way she followed you around - she hardly let you out of her sight, keeping an eye on you at all times, following you as you moved through the house. She was even beginning to ignore Eris’s commands, opting to stay at your feet, following you around the house, or with her head curled on your lap.

When you and Eris publicly began your mateship, you had begged him to allow the dogs into your shared bed. “Just one,” you had pouted, “I don’t like waking alone.”

Despite his grumbling, Eris had obliged your request. Things with your family were still quite rough - it had been almost a year by now since you left the Night Court, being unceremoniously abdicated from the throne. You had been in contact with most of your family by this point except for Rhysand, who was still refusing to speak with you since he forced you out of ‘his court’, as he had called it.

Despite your best efforts, Eris still felt guilty over it, the rift in your family caused by the discovery of your mateship. You usually tried to soothe him, not wanting him to feel guilt over the decisions you made. You would choose him over and over again, and problems with Rhysand or any member of your family were not going to stop that from continuing. Besides, his guilt would be better suited as ire towards Rhysand.

Sometimes you did use his guilt to get what you want.

Which is why it initially did take Clover much coaxing to jump into the bed at all, a notion she thought ridiculous at first, but once her paws melted into the mattress, she was quick to lay directly on your side of the bed, placing her head atop your pillow.

“Traitor,” Eris had muttered as you cuddled up to her, petting her soft head.

After getting her into the bed, Clover spent most nights curled up at your feet or by your side, your nights often spent squished between her long body and Eris’s. Soon enough, you were back to asking Eris for another one to sleep in your bed.

“So Clover doesn’t get lonely.”

He spent ages debating with you that no, she doesn’t need a companion in bed with her. It was ridiculous. The three of you were enough for one bed, and he hated to think of how a second hound would complicate things.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he did quite enjoy it when he’d throw an arm around you in the middle of the night and his fingers would meet Clover’s soft fur from the other side of you.

It also soothed some minor worry in him to have you protected from all sides, despite your being more than capable of defending yourself. The mating bond was a precious gift, but it was also a minor curse with the way it coursed through his veins, needing to protect you, to keep you safe, and to keep you both satiated.

“Er, our bed’s plenty big enough for more hounds.”

“Yes, but they’ll get too spoiled. You’ve already turned Clover rotten.”

“I have done no such thing,” you cross your arms, trying to look utterly appalled at his accusation. He gives you a pointed look, then turns his gaze behind you.

Your gaze turned to the hound seated behind you, her long limbs spread across your bed, her little leg kicks and soft snores bringing a small chuckle to your lips that you quickly turned into a scoff.

“That proves nothing.”

In the several months since allowing Clover and Cinnamon in your bed, they were still obedient. They left the bed without disturbing you in the mornings, they rotated who laid next to you and who slept at the foot of the bed, and they would never go to bed without either you or Eris prompting them to.

That all stopped a few weeks ago.

Eris’s hounds had always been fond of you - Eris had spoken of them for centuries before you were able to see any of them. The way he had spoken of them had helped you see he was capable of caring about something that wasn’t himself.

That was its own revelation.

Meeting the hounds was quite nerve-wracking for you - he told you they were quite cold to new fae, and they had detested Lucien’s overeagerness to befriend them - a grudge they still held many centuries later.

“I believe they smelled the desperation leaking from his pores, tainted their perception of him,” he quipped.

Despite Eris’ warnings, you were not prepared for them to warm up to you as much as they had. He brought out his most trusted hound, Clover, to meet you, and you’re not sure if it was the way Eris’ scent was forever entwined with your own, but she warmed to you immediately. She circled your legs before sitting directly next to you, placing her head beneath your hand.

“What does this mean?” you whisper to Eris, not wanting to scare her or set her off.

“She wants you to pet her.”

Your confused expression makes his eyes dance with amusement.

“Surely you understand that means to stroke her head.” He raises his hand in demonstration, petting the air with a bemused look on his face.

You huff, “she could bite me, I apologize for wanting to wait a moment before touching a creature you’ve told me is dangerous.”

“She is dangerous, but surely she’s capable of being more than one thing.”

Nowadays she was capable of such a feat - she was not only beloved by you, but she was also a constant thorn in your side.

It started with subtle things, conversations with Eris where you tried to express how odd they were behaving one night while you sat in Eris’ study, helping him sort through correspondence from his brothers about the lands they oversee.

“Clover followed me into the bathroom.”

“Perhaps I should put some cushions for her to lay down while you bathe. I’m fond of the sight, perhaps she is too.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m serious, Er. She’s behaving strangely.”

Eris set the letter from Moros down, his attention fixed on you. “You spoil her, she is merely being affectionate. You’ll get used to it.”

Eris was wrong, Clover’s behavior only getting worse as the days went on.

“Clover, stay.”

Clover’s brown eyes observed you, your finger pointing toward the floor indicating for her to stay, tone full of finality - a princess’s tone, a high lady’s tone. You were determined to get the hound to listen to you, commanding her to stay in your chambers.

You passed through the door, heading down to speak with one of your advisor’s who insisted he speak with you as soon as possible. You rolled your eyes just thinking about his current issue with one of the trade routes that flows into Spring and how last time he wanted to speak to you, you enjoyed watching the vein on his forehead throb at your reluctance to take his ill advice.

Perhaps during this meeting the vein will pop, at least then the meeting would come with entertainment.

You look down and are startled when you see Clover’s body in step with yours, her fur shimmering in the light as if she were smoke rising from the ground.

Cauldron boil me, Eris is going to kill me if I’ve ruined all of their training.

You stop, pointing in the opposite direction, whispering, “go, shoo Clover.” You don’t even want to consider how she got through the closed door.

Clover just sits in front of you, her gaze piercing, seeing something you can’t. You blow out a breath, hands running through your hair, “okay, you may come with me.”

You’d regret those words.

Clover strode into the room before you, sniffing the air as her nails clacked across the floor. Her focus shifted to the male in the room, Flint’s eyes narrowing at her. She moved her body closer to the floor as she stalked towards him, the hair along her spine raising into the shape of a fin. Her ears were pulled back, a low rumble emitting from her chest.

“Clover!”

Your voice is chastising, but Clover does not let her guard down as she slowly approaches Flint. His eyes are full of fear as she approaches, her feet circling him. He spins in a circle, not letting her eyes leave his.

“Clover!”

You whistle her stop command, but she ignores it. She circled Flint the way she circles mice and rabbits.

She always loved playing with her food.

“What is this? Control your hound.” Flint’s voice is annoyed as Clover raises her head, baring her teeth at him.

“I’m trying.”

You move forward, reaching to grab Clover’s neck, instead missing and falling forward towards Flint. His arms catch your forearms, but Clover was not a fan of his touch and her teeth swiftly sank into the leg of his trousers. Her grip was strong as she tugged at his pants, and he began stammering, shaking his leg trying to rid his pants of her. He backed away toward the door, and once he reached the threshold, Clover let go of her grip, almost causing the male to fall over.

Her growls echoed down the hall as she watched him run down the hall before scampering back towards you, confusion and shock on your face at all that just transpired.

The hound just licked your face gently before laying next to you, her head in your lap.

You sighed, certain that Eris would kill you for ruining Clover.

Later that night, Eris made hisbway to your shared chambers, a bit surprised to find you already asleep. The hour wasn’t too late, however he had caught you dozing while reading over some requests regarding equipment for some farms.

He stripped his clothes, the finery being replaced by some loose trousers before moving towards the bed to find that the hounds had placed themselves on either side of you, Cinnamon occupying his spot on the bed.

“Cinnamon, down.”

The brown hound does not listen to the command, the only response a long sigh of her breath. He stared at the hound - a seventy year old beast who was one of the easiest hounds he’d ever trained, knowing how he expected her to behave from an incredibly young age.

Cinnamon was no Clover, but she was second in their chain of command. Clover was on your other side, soft snores coming from her snout.

There was plenty of room in the bed for the two of you, the two hounds, and, truthfully, several more hounds. Your preference for larger beds from when you had your wings never left after you lost them.

Eris laid in the bed, determined he could outmaneuver his hounds. He moved a hand out to your face, stroking your hair before a soft growl cut him off.

His hand stilled, eyes wide at such a response from Cinnamon. His nostrils begin flaring, heat rising to the surface of his skin in anger. He could feel the roar of the bond in his ears, frustration boiling within him at the defiance and aggression at him touching his own mate.

He tried to swallow it down, refusing to erupt in his own bed while you slept peacefully next to him. His fuse was a short one, his temper always loosely held back by a quick tongue that allowed him to loosen the reins ever so slightly.

He watched them, their bodies curled around your own and thought about your complaints of them following you around, believing it to be a consequence of your softness towards them.

You were spoiling them rotten. You were a few weeks away from giving them table scraps, for Mother’s sake. But then his thoughts veered into Flint’s description of what occurred, Clover guarding you from Flint’s touch like a mother hen-

His heart stalls in his chest, a heavy realization settling over him as he sits up, Sierra growling softly at his abrupt movements.

You were pregnant. You had to be - it was the only logical conclusion other than all twelve of his hounds losing their minds simultaneously. They must be able to scent it on you before fae senses could pick them up.

He wonders briefly if Lucien’s magical eye could see it.

Eris lay frozen on the bed, his thoughts swirling with what to do, how he was going to handle this. He was still quite new to his tenure as high lord - the work wasn’t unexpected by any means, however his position was still quite vulnerable - new power always attracted violence attempting to see how far that power extended.

Things were still difficult in your personal lives - he and Lucien were on tenuous speaking terms, you and Rhysand were not on speaking terms. The two of you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

It was all so damn complicated - you hadn’t had a coronation as high lady yet, wanting to wait until Rhysand would show up to have the ceremony. The logistics of a babe at such a crucial turning point politically could open Eris up to glaring vulnerabilities.

Long fingers tap at his chest, trying to keep himself somewhat grounded in reality. He had no confirmation for this - his reasoning behind such a theory were founded on the strange behavior of his hounds. He was being a ridiculous fool to get so worked up over unconfirmed theories.

Yet the image of a swaddled little thing kept gnawing at his mind - tiny toes, a tiny nose, tiny fingers wrapping around his. He had adored his brothers when they were much younger, when the world under Beron could be disguised as a good place. Perhaps he could do it.

Eris laid awake for several hours, your soft breathing calming him as he sat and thought about all the possible ways he could ruin all of this.

A tiny part of him let himself hope that, in spite of it all, he wouldn’t.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

Eris taglist: @secret-third-thing

Thanks for reading 💕

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

First Choice

-M.S {pt 1}

Synopsis: Your best friends with Nicolas Sturniolo. He’s been your best friend since the third grade— you’re now in your senior year. What happens when the brother you don’t get along with all of the sudden needs you to fake date him?

Pairing: good girl!fem!reader (she/her) X bad boy!Matt Sturniolo

Warnings: Cussing, arguments (not angst. yet.), slightly suggestive, cigarettes, mentions of alcohol and drugs, use of Y/N.

<*•*>

“Please, Y/N..” Matt begged, his eyes pleading— unlike how you’ve ever seen him. He’s always been such an asshole to you. Since you’ve been friends with his brother, Nick. On the other hand, Chris was sweet. You never understood why Matt couldn’t be like Chris.

But here you are. Matt was now begging you to be his fake girlfriend. You weren’t sure why he wanted you to, or why he needed anyone to, in that matter.

“Why, Matt? What am I getting out of it?” You scowl, annoyed at the boy, who refused to let you leave the now empty classroom. All of your other classmates were already at lunch, but matt stopped you to ask this ridiculous question.

“Well- I..” Matt sighed, embarrassed in himself. Matt was a very good looking guy, and had his fair share of hookups and girlfriends, but never once did you think he’d be begging you to fake date him. Ever.

“Don’t you dare fucking tell me it’s to get back at your girlfriend.” You state annoyed, just wanting to head to lunch.

“Well, not really..” Matt mumbled. “Okay. Listen to me.” The boy states, as if he hadn’t already had your full attention. “Me and Lacey broke up— obviously, and everyone was teasing me for it, saying I fumbled and shit. Like, Nate, Jordan, Kyle, and even fuckin’ Chris wouldn’t keep his mouth shut, so.. I may have accidentally told them I already have a new girlfriend..” Matt mumbles shyly, and you couldn’t help but snicker.

“No fucking way.” You squeak, trying to hold back your laughter. “You fumbled bad, and your friends are fuckin’ with you for it, so you want me to help you? When have you ever gave a fuck about helping me? All those times I needed a ride or something from the store when you were already out?” You scoffed.

“Y/N, please..” He whines. “c’mon, I’m beggin’ ya..” He pleads. “Fuck, I’ll even get on my knees if ya want me to,”

“Matt, get the fuck up.” You demand, feeling awkward about him kneeling down in front of you. Part of you, however, thought it was cute. The way his hands were intertwined tightly, his hair covering his eyes slightly, but from what you could see of them, he was looking up at you longingly. “Matt. Up.” You demanded more stern this time.

He obliges, quickly standing up in front of you, a glint of hope in his eyes.

“Why me..? Why am I your first choice?” You question. It wasn’t a random question. If you were to agree, this would be something you feel is need-to-know.

“You’re the most believable. Not because your looks or anything like that, but because I’ve known you longest.” He tells you, but the way he speaks makes you think he’s not telling you the complete truth.. but close enough- right?

“Okay— But first, we have to lay ground rules. No kissing me, at all. Second, not too much PDA. I hate PDA in general; and it doesn’t help that we’re not actually dating. Third, pet names and stuff are fine, but never get cocky with me. Okay?” I ask, keeping my voice clear. Being truthful, I wasn’t so sure why I agreed to help him. But I did.

“Really? Thank you!” The boy squeals happily, pulling you into a hug. You tense at his touch, something you haven’t felt before. It wasn’t bad— but it was definitely new. He continues to mumble small ‘thank you’s, before letting you go. “Can you sit by me at lunch? It’ll make it more believable.” He asks.

You reluctantly agree, not quite sure how he was so open to asking you things like this. Asking someone to ‘fake date’ you is something you’d have to work up years of courage to ask someone to do. He immediately slips your hand in his, pulling you out of the empty classroom— the same one he had pulled you into randomly moments before.

You look down at his hand in yours as he wandered down the halls, pulling you behind him. He looked so happy. When you both arrived into the packed commons, he pulled you to the table he usually sat at, your friends giving you an odd look as you strolled right past them, hand-in-hand with your sworn enemy.

The table Matt sat at consisted of his closest friends, Nate, Jordan, Kyle, Luke, Nicky, and his brothers, Nick and Chris. You weren’t familiar with Kyle, Jordan, or Luke, but Nate and Nicky sometimes came over to the triplets house when you were hanging out with Nick.

“Y/n..!” Nick yells, but his voice quickly trailing off. “Matt..?” He says in an unsure tone, his head tilting. “Why are you here?” He questions.

“Guys,” Matt speaks up, grabbing everyones’ attention. “This is the girlfriend I was telling you about.” He states proudly, but almost seemingly unsure of himself. Girlfriend. It sounds different hearing it from him.

“No fucking way.” Nick gapes, his jaw slack.

“Yes fucking way.” Matt teases, before taking his usual seat. “Hold on. You can sit here, sweetheart. I’ll go grab myself a different chair.” He hums, standing back up from his seat after he realizes there was no open seats.

You were taken slightly aback. Obviously Matt would have to act like this, since you were ‘dating’, but it was something you definitely weren’t used to.

“Y/N! You’re insane!” Nick says, holding back a laugh. Your leg bounced slightly as you realized everyone at the table was staring at you.

“Hm? How so?” You asked confused. Was Matt not a good person to date? Obviously he wasn’t nice to you, but thats because you hate each other. He always seemed so sweet and gentle around his ex.

“Matt..?” Nick furrowed his eyebrows judgmentally. “You guys.. hate eachother..?” He questions.

“No, we obviously don’t, Nick.” You correct sweetly, as Matt pulls over a chair to sit next to you. Matt almost immediately noticed that your leg was bouncing, so he gently rested one of his hands on your knees reassuringly.

Even though you told him not to touch you, you do find his touch quite soothing. You glance over at him, and he offers you a slight nod, before his attention goes back to the table full of his friends. Maybe— Just maybe— this whole ‘fake dating’ with Matt wasn’t such a horrible decision after all.

『 ↳✧･ﾟ Finn yaps❕ ;

sorry this chapter is kinda short, i just wanted to make the first chapter shorter and show how the fake dating came to be <3

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ I do NOT give permission for my work to be published on any other site, nor to be claimed as your own . However , reblogs , likes , and comments are much appreciated ! 🤍

ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bernardenjoyer @lovely-calypso @slut4mattsturn @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @75sturn @thenickgirl

divider creds to @v6que 🤍

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Untitled

Pairings: Takemichi x reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Takemichi, rough sex, dacryphilia, pillow princess Michi, dirty talk, daddy kink, degradation

Genre/Format: Smut; Oneshot

Tagging: @wazabii @hxpel3s5-slxxt (if you'd like your tag removed please lmk!)

Author's Note: Not requested of me specifically, but I did promise to write a lil something something featuring Michi and rougher sex. So, here it is!

“Aah-!” Another shrill scream bounces off the walls of his bedroom, proceeded by a sharp slap.

Your ragged panting is barely audible over the sound of your hips beating Takemichi's ass — his skin turning an even deeper shade of pinkish red with every collision.

“Fuck, haha... look at you, baby,” you rasped, “look at you taking me nice 'n deep like that. I told ya you'd be able to handle this dick.”

The words didn't quite make it past his lips, instead turning into a whimper that tumbled out when Takemichi tried to protest. He's always so coy — "nooo it won't fit! You're way too big!" he'd say, despite the fact that you regularly wreck his holes. I mean, yeah, you were pretty thick down there, but your partner has proven time and time again that that's not much of a problem.

Even now, as his nails dig into his sheets and tears stain them, Takemichi's walls grip you like a vice; pulling your cock further inside with every motion. And the way his once coherent speech turns into babbles, all because you're rearranging his insides? Priceless.

“Ah fuck-! Mm yeah, take it, baby. Take daddy's cock-” It's all the little slut can do to keep his hips up in the air; his legs may as well have become jelly at this point with the way his thighs shake when you pull back — nearly pulling out — then snap back as if there's some magnetic pull between you two.

Your little pillow princess is full-on sobbing as his teeth grind against the fabric of his sheets. Yet another slap to his ass and Takemichi somehow cries harder, getting choked on his own spit.

Meanwhile, you have been holding back, desperate not to cum just yet so that you can stay inside your lil princess for a while longer. But that ache deep inside of you has only built up, exacerbated by Takemichi's tight hole wrapped around your dick. If only he didn't feel so fucking good, then maybe tonight could last a little longer...

“Gonna fuckin' cum... Hah... Where does my little whore want it, huh?”

No response. Only a drawn out whine where Takemichi's face is buried in the mattress.

You can't stifle the laugh that comes out of your mouth. “Inside it is, then. Ngh-!”

With a few more deep thrusts, you finally explode inside your partner — gushing white, hot ropes that fill him up as you grab a handful of his hair and push his head down further, cutting off the pathetic thing's oxygen for a moment.

“O-ooh shit... haha... damn, baby, you took everything I had, didn't ya?” You tease, exhaling the breath you'd held in during your climax.

Your hands slid down your darling's back, moving towards his hips to rub soothing circles on the skin, then roaming over more of his smaller body — Takemichi's breathing steadies as you do this, gradually calming down until his muscles release their held tension. After a moment, you pull out, leaving your partner's hole gaping, as you usually do, and leaking a fat glob of your cum.

Rolling over onto his side, Takemichi searches for your hand; which you happily oblige him, and meet his touch. Your thumb brushes over his knuckles and you lean down to kiss them before laying down next to him.

“You ok?”

He nods. “Mhm... felt really nice...”

A smile spreads across your face as you watch him blink lazily; best to help him over to the bathroom before he falls asleep, or before you fall asleep, for that matter. And after you're both cleaned up and relaxed, you'll have a little rest together.

Before you roll over and out of his bed, you place a tender kiss on Takemichi's forehead, giggling along with him.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

Coming Home

thought i was about to write dirty dirty things then this super fluffy sex came out idk what happened

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader description: fluffy sex when Miguel comes home, NSFW MDNI! word count: 1k

You’re hanging out in Miguel’s quarters, lying on his bed, scrolling through your tablet. You’ve been sleeping here a lot lately. It unfortunately didn’t always mean you got to be with him; his schedule was completely unpredictable, and there were many nights when he never came back, working through them or having to go on missions. But you loved to revel in his space, in the fact that he let you be there, that he wanted you there. And the nights when he did come home, well, those made it more than worth taking the chance.

When you hear the door opening, excitement rushes through you at the fact that tonight was one of those special occasions. You’d get to sleep wrapped up in his warmth, to the feeling of his surprisingly gentle caresses.  

He leans by the door casually, watching you intently. “Not gonna say hello?” you ask after a moment. 

“Just admiring the view.” His eyes travel the length of your body. “Not every day you get to come home to the most beautiful woman just lounging on your bed.” “Well you could. If you came home every day.” You meant it to be teasing, playful, but it comes out more sincere than you intended, a hurt longing lacing your voice. His face softens, and he makes his way over to you. He crawls over the bed until he’s half on top of you. Leaning on one strong arm, his other hand coming to caress your side. “Perdóname, preciosa. You know I want to.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “Fuck I want to. I’d rather be right here than anywhere else.” He kisses your neck. [Forgive me, beautiful.]

Your hand winds its way into his curls, scratching lovingly, holding him close. 

“Miguel, I know. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry, baby. I know.” You kiss his forehead. “Fate of the universe and all that,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. You hadn’t wanted to make him feel guilty; you know how much he carries around already. 

He pulls his face back to look into yours. He hums low. 

“Pero tú eres mi universo.” He kisses you lightly, and now you hum deep in your chest, melting at his words and touch. [But you are my universe.]

You kiss him back. It’s slow, deliberate. He brings his body fully on top of yours. You let your hands roam it. His travel yours too, gripping here and there, as your mouths move against each other’s languidly. 

“I love coming home to you,” he whispers between kisses. “You’re the home I come back to.”

“Te amo,” you whisper back, and he smiles. You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him to you. 

The longer you make out, the longer your bodies rub against one another’s, the easier it becomes to feel his firmness resting between your legs. You rut your hips up into his, and he groans, returning the movement with his hips. His cock starts dragging on your cunt as he grinds into you. Without breaking your kiss, you reach down and pull on his pants. He obliges, pulling them the rest of the way off, as you pull your own down.

Miguel repeats his grinding motions, no clothes between you now, coating his cock in your wetness.

“Please, baby,” you plead. He nods, rests his forehead on yours, eyes boring into yours, as he brings one hand down and guides himself into you. His mouth opens in a silent scream as he slowly pushes in. Hands on either side of his face, you pull him into a messy kiss, continuous but broken by pants and moans as he takes his time bottoming out. 

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he pauses. You squeeze him, and he moans into your mouth, thrusting into you even though there’s no deeper to go. It’s warm and rousing, and you move your hips against him, wanting to keep feeling that. 

Still kissing you, Miguel finally moves his hips back, taking his time, before pushing back in equally slowly. You whine at the sensation. 

He does it again and again until he’s fucking you languidly, lovingly. Every second of it is charged, intense, delicious. It builds slowly until the steady buzz is interspersed with electric waves. 

You give a strangled whimper. Miguel, ever-attentive, brings his hand to his mouth at your sounds, your shudders. He licks his fingers then brings them down to where you’re connected, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. You whimper even louder and chase his hand with your hips. 

He moves just a bit faster, pushes harder, keeps it up till you’re tight and whining. And when he feels your body tense, he pistons in and out of you, his hand vibrating perfectly to pull your orgasm out of you. You whine into his neck as you cum around him. He slows his motions but keeps them up, and you keep cumming for much longer than usual. It’s strange, the intensity drawn out for so many seconds, and when you finally finish, your whole body shakes. 

“Fuuck, nena, can I — can I keep —“ 

Miguel’s choking on his words, but you nod and pull him tight with your arms and legs wrapped around him. “Yeah, baby, keep going,” you pant. “Keep going till you cum, Migue.” He groans at your words, picks up his pace. It’s almost too much for your now very sensitive body, but it instinctively pulls him in as he chases his own release. 

When he finally gets there, he smashes his lips on yours and kisses you ardently as his hips stutter. He empties himself inside you. He stays above you, inside you, panting with his lips still grazing yours.

You look into each other’s faces, caressing here and there. You don’t need to put words to the feeling encapsulating the both of you. When Miguel finally moves off of you with a peck, it’s easy to push down the disappointment knowing that in a matter of minutes you’d be wrapped in him again, entangled in each other for another perfect night.

~~

thanks for reading!

Miguel masterlist

[fandomnerd9602]

First Kiss

Stepsister!Wanda x Reader (Teen AU)

High school. It’s rough for you. On the downside, you have to deal with grades, social circles and the constant reminder of the crushing loneliness that first love creates. But on the bright side, you got an amazing stepdad Django Maximoff, and a cute and quirky stepsister Wanda Maximoff.

It was just after home room. You were feeling happy as could be. Your plan was to ask out Carol Danvers, Captain of the school’s volleyball team. You had practiced in the mirror and even asked Django for advice. He was more than happy to oblige.

You walked to your second period class with a pep in your step. You sat next to her and you seemed to have a good vibe between you and her. And then you turned the corner and stopped dead in your tracks.

Carol was standing there she was kissing James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes and then she turned and kissed Valkyrie.

“Bye babes” she said with a wink. Your heart shattered. Luckily she didn’t notice you. Or maybe it was unlucky. You didn’t know. Your head was spinning.

“Y/N!” Wanda called out to you with a smile. She didn’t quite grasp what was wrong with you. She gave you a gentle shake. “You okay?”

“I-I don’t know” you just walked into class and sat down wordlessly next to Carol. And for the first time, you didn’t care.

The rest of the school day was a blur. You went from school to your own bedroom in an almost zombie like state. You felt absolutely alone and helpless. Your high school crush had a girlfriend…and a boyfriend.

You just curled up on your bed and just buried your head in your pillow in sheer embarrassment. You felt as embarrassed as the numerous times that you found yourself staring just a little too long at your step sister. In truth, Wanda was the one you truly loved.

Her kindness, her humor, her beauty, everything about her drove you crazy with love. But she was your step sister. You had hoped that if you focused on another girl your age, maybe you’d somehow focus your affections on her rather than Wanda.

But even that didn’t work because the only other girl you liked was part of a throuple.

You just buried your head in your pillow and grunted in embarrassment. And then came a soft knock at your door.

“Go away” you mumbled. “Nursing a broken heart in here”

“You sound like a dying moose” Wanda spoke up from behind the door. You couldn’t help but smile.

Wanda entered a second later with a cup of tea for you. “You okay, Y/N?”

“I don’t know if you saw it but Carol…she’s uhh…”

“I saw that…” Wanda huffed, “she can’t really make up her mind. Just pick one and be faithful”

“I’m never gonna find love” you mumbled before taking a sip.

“I’m sure Pietro would tell you the same.” She giggled.

“How’s your mom and Pietro doing?” You inquired.

“Malibu’s fine for them. I miss my bratok tho” she sighed. “But I know Pietro would love hanging out with you.”

“Life’s weird, Wanda.” You stated Esther pitifully. “I haven’t had my first kiss yet”

“Neither have I” she smirked, “although few have tried. No one can conquer the witch!”

Wanda throws her hands in the air and faked conjuring up some kind of magic. You couldn’t help but laugh. And then she laughed along with you. It just felt right being there with her.

You stared at her. She stared at you. A small blush made its way across her face.

“Y-you know,” she gently moved a stray strand of hair away from her face, “what if we…oh forget it”

“What?”

“What if we were..each other’s first kiss?” She found herself trying to hide her embarrassed face.

“Really?” You asked.

“Y-yeah. I want my first kiss to be with someone I trust. And I trust you” she explained.

“O-okay” you managed to say. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

The two of you just looked at each other for a split second before you broke the silence, “do you want me to lean in or-?”

“I-I’ll lean in” Wanda chimed in. She let out a nervous giggle before she leaned in.

You found yourself leaning in and then it happened. Your lips touched hers. So soft. So tender. The faint scent of strawberries permeated her skin. You could feel a sense of warmth and love take over your entire body.

Wanda pulled back. How you just wanted to take a hold of her and kiss her again. You could kiss her countless times and you sweared it would never be enough.

“That was…” she blushed, “wow”

“Y-yeah” you giggled. “T-thank you”

“What are step siblings for?” She smiled and turned to leave. “I’ll see you for dinner”

And with that she turned and left. You collapsed against your bed in an absolute state of bliss.

Years later your now wife Wanda told you that she did the exact same thing too.

Tags: @lifespectator @ma1egamer @aloneodi @holiday-house-of-m @family-house-of-m @konstantin609 @revanshand @russianredassassin @scarletquake-n7 @supercorpdanbeau @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @jacenradio7

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part thirty-two

summary: the end.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

the end!! omg!!guys thank you so much for being here through this whole story and this was LONG!! over 110k words of a lot of nonsense but to anyone who's made it this far,, ilysm. i'm gonna miss them!! stop they were everything to me :(

ANYWAY same with LTPF if you've read that, there will be an epilogue coming soon and also definitely more oneshots and maybe bonus content that i wish i included in the original series but just didn't make the cut. so stay tuned for that!!

if you liked this series, i'm obligated as well to plug my NEXT series that's coming soon, 'requiem'!! i am so excited about it so please follow me for updates on when that will be posted!! def soon!!

just one more time i wanted to say ily, and thank you :')

see you soon!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

You keep your books tucked firmly to your chest as you walk into your first class, wearing the spare clothes you brought to Sejanus's house on Friday just in case you had to change. In case you spilled something on your white dress, or just felt the need to change- ironically enough.

Your normal seat in the front centre of the room is obviously free, considering also that you were quite early this morning. You had some readings you needed to catch up on anyway, in order to be prepared for midterms which were apparently coming up quickly.

It isn't long after you open your book before others begin to shuffle in, and much to your surprise, you feel the chair next to you pull back and see someone sit down. "Hi, Victor." The boy's voice says, forcing you to look up from your book.

Dark hair and dark eyes, you think you remember his name was Cancor. "Oh, my name is Y/N." You correct him kindly, adjusting nervously in your seat.

"I know that." He says, eyes merely slits as he seems to look past your own eyes and into your soul.

"You're... You're Cancor, correct? I don't believe we've properly met." You add, sitting up straighter.

"Crane." He states. "My last name is Crane."

"That's... yes that's a lovely name." You smile nervously, unsure what to say but still wanting to fill the silence he seemed so comfortable with. "Alliteration is such a fun thing to consider when naming a child..."

"It means spider." He states. "Did you ever meet my sister?" He asks, ignoring your nervous ramblings.

"No, no I don't believe I have. What is her name?" You ask.

"Arachne." The boy says, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly while you take a moment to wrack your mind to place it. He's acting as if you should know her, and suddenly you feel like you do.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing the memory to hit you like a freight train.

The funeral.

All you really remembered until now was being chained to a truck and paraded down the street you now recognize as the Corso, the body of his sister's tribute swinging above you while people screamed and cursed at you. Then, Coryo sang the national anthem.

"Oh, yes. Of course." You nod slightly, a frown settling over your features. "I am so sorry for your loss. Truly."

"No, you're not." He spits. "You don't care, and the fact that you're pretending to is just vile. She meant less than nothing to you and those animals- otherwise, she would still be here!"

You stammer, pushing yourself back in your seat as you grip the bottom of the chair. "No, no- I am sorry, I am. That should not have happened. It- It was horrible."

"Cancor." You silently thank the universe for your professor's quick intervention. "If you wouldn't mind returning to your usual seat and leaving Miss Y/L/N alone."

"We were just talking." Cancor replies, suddenly sweet as honey- cool and collected as if he wasn't just berating you over your faults in his sister's death.

"Go." Dr. Nero tells him again, nodding up toward the back of the lecture hall. "Before I am forced to ask you to leave."

The boy sighs in quiet frustration, slightly aggressive about his movements as he grabs his bag and stomps up the stairs.

You look up to your professor who greets the look with a curt nod and the smallest of sympathetic smiles.

It does nothing to quell the lightness you feel that usually signifies the trembling of your hands, which would soon spread. You close your eyes trying to take deep breaths that wouldn't come, but all you can see is the bodies of Arachne Crane and her tribute by the bars that had separated them. You have to open your eyes to remind yourself you aren't standing in the street, wrists still shackled to a truck. You can feel the chains weighing your wrists down to the desk as you think about it. You had almost entirely forgotten about the whole event- and the guilt of that was suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Cancor had never had the privilege of forgetting the way you had.

Quickly, you shove your books into your bag and stand, heading for the door. "Y/N." Dr. Nero's voice forces you to stop and you just turn to look at him, knowing full well you're unable to speak. "It's 8:58."

You nod slightly, looking down at the marble flooring that lay between you. "Start without me." You mumble, not giving him the chance to respond before you're leaving, accidentally bumping shoulders with some of the final students to enter.

You hadn't missed a single class yet, attendance was important, but right now you couldn't care less. Why should you even have the privilege of attending classes at the university in place of some of the academy's brightest minds who never got the chance? Like Arachne, and the three other mentors who were killed because of the games. You knew it wasn't necessarily your fault, but you understood Cancor's anger being directed at you. In a twisted way, you felt like you deserved it. They were meant to survive, you never were. Yet, here you were- a walking reminder to those students' friends and families that for some reason, they had to lose someone they shouldn't have.

You quickly pace down the nearly empty hall, trying to hold back your tears as long as you could. Feeling like you can't breathe is making it exponentially harder, and you wonder how you even walked out of the arena as it was. Adrenaline is a crazy beast- and you wished you had some leftover now. Sometimes, in moments like this, you wonder if you had used up your life's supply of the chemical the last time you were here in the Capitol.

Coryo was already running late after spending probably far too long conversing with your brother in the car, but he couldn't resist taking a detour into the arts building. He would just pass through, past your room just to glance inside and see if you were really there. Just to get a look at you.

He doesn't need to, though, turning a corner and just catching a glimpse of your hair as you disappear with a left turn at the end of the corridor. He was sure it was you.

Walking past your classroom he looks anyway, just to double-check, and as he suspected, you were gone.

He quickens his pace, taking advantage of his height difference over you to try and catch up with more rushed steps. "Y/N?" He calls out as he turns the same corner, but you're already hidden from view and the door at the far end of the hall is slamming shut.

As he continues down the corridor, a furrow knits its way into his brow. You must be headed to where you normally eat lunch, that is all that would make sense.

Without thinking, he follows. The courtyard is almost empty, aside from your frame curled up on the grass, knees tucked to your chest and bag discarded halfheartedly beside you on the damp grass. The sun casts a shadowed glow where it isn't blocked by trees or buildings in its path of rising, the grass is wet under his shoes as he quickly approaches you.

"Hey- hey, Y/N/N, it's me." He calls out as he walks up behind you. You turn your head, and then stand quickly.

"It- It's okay. I'm fine." You stammer, wiping your cheeks frantically. "You should g-go, you're already late."

"I'm not leaving you like this." He shakes his head, holding a hand out toward you as you avoid his eyes. "Tell me what happened, love. Talk to me."

You shake your head, shoulders backed to an invisible wall as you hold your palms over your face. You can't look at him right now- especially right now, when all you want is for him to hold you.

"You're okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." He whispers, taking a hesitant step closer. By now, you know full well he wouldn't hurt you. Not in the way he's saying, at least.

"You should go." You choke over the words that feel heavy in your mouth.

"Y/N, love, I told you, I'm not going anywhere." He repeats calmly.

"I want to go home." You sob. "I shouldn't have won, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be alive!" You say, voice picking up in frustration. "It's not fair. Nothing is fair, nothing."

He frowns as you lower your hands, clenching your fists at your sides. "Of course, you should be here."

"You don't get it!" You snap, and you hardly even sound like yourself.

This was it. This was your breaking point.

Coryo is taken back by your outburst, almost flinching at the abruptness of your shift. He had never seen you angry- he didn't even know it was possible. Of course it was. He'd spent all this time, all this energy trying to convince people that you were human. Anger comes with that, hand in hand like your cat and the fur that's clinging to his clothes at this very moment. You couldn't have one without the other. "Then explain it to me." He urges you, trying to sound anything other than defensive.

Your eyes soften, as if you're suddenly realizing that your anger was not entirely placed on him. You shake your head. "It's not... I cannot explain it and that is the worst part." You sigh, but the rage flashes in your eyes again as you look down. "Why was it me and not any of them? Why did so many of your classmates have to die? Why did Marcus escape only to face a worse fate than the rest of us, when he tried to help me too? Why am I enrolled at this stuffy university when my spot belongs to Arachne Crane in rights?"

"Arachne Crane?" Coryo mutters, eyes widening with confusion while he wonders where on earth that came from. He shakes his head quickly to dismiss the thought. "Marcus tried to save you, yes, that could have been you who escaped, that's true- but you were too busy trying to save me. And you did." He knows better than to accuse you of regretting that. He knows you don't.

When you don't reply, just staring at him head on now, frustrated and confused, he continues. "If we're going by this unexplainable logic of the universe, I think that it was you because instead of saving yourself, you saved me. And you did it again in the arena, when you went back for Jessup when I was looking at the screen and begging you silently to just ditch him. Same exact thing when you tried to get little Wovey up into the rafters with you, and hell! When you stared down the barrel of my gun, shaking head to toe from fear just to save the life of the Mayor's daughter, who was nothing but awful to everyone!" He says, gesticulating wildly to get his point across. "I've been trying to tell you for months, Y/N. It was you because you are the only person in this whole damn country who cares about someone other than themselves."

You just shake your head, and it's frustrating to him that you're unwilling to accept what he knows to be true. "It didn't work." You sniff. "You're the only one who survived me."

"Listen to me," Coryo says, reaching out and holding your face in his hands- throwing caution to the wind regarding how he knows to handle your panic attacks. "I survived because I had to learn how to love you."

You look into his eyes, flitting your own back and forth between them in an attempt to place any signs of deception. Blue, baby blue. You find none.

"And I did. And I'll love you every day for the rest of our lives. I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm embarrassed by that fact." Your eyes are squeezed shut by the time he finishes speaking, his thumbs swiping over the tear stains left down your cheeks by anger.

"It's not your fault." You mumble, shaking your head under his hold. "I do not fault you for being embarrassed."

"I'm not." He says again. "Look at me, please, love."

You pry your eyes open to face him.

"I've... I've had all this pressure my whole life to be perfect, and now it's worse than ever and I should have never let that get pushed onto you. I want you to be happy, that's all. I want you to be free to do whatever you want, and right now, the cost of that comes with who we are in public. Do you understand?"

"Yes." You say softly, but he can see that's not fully true.

"Here, in the Capitol, everything is a social ladder. We cannot marry who we wish, we marry who we should. Rarely ever do kids here date for fun."

"Like Lucy Gray and the silly mistakes she made over and over again with Billy Taupe." You comment, trying to lighten the tension you feel radiating off his body.

"Yes." He chuckles, smiling hopefully at you, relieved that you understood. "But I want nothing more on this earth than for you to be the one I spend my life with. I want to make you happy, but first, in order to do that, you have to be someone that they will accept. And I am so, so sorry I didn't explain this to you sooner, but I want you to know I've never wanted you to change."

"We don't need them to like me to be happy. That will be an endless uphill battle, Coryo." You shake your head slightly, placing your hands over his as they slide down onto your neck.

"It will be uphill but we can do it." He assures you quickly. "You're already well-liked, we're-"

"Were you not happy in Twelve?" You ask, a sad look in your eyes.

He stops, tilting his head slightly at you. He was happy in Twelve, now that he considers it. He hadn't thought about it, he was so focused on hating everything but you that he just assumed it was awful, but really, it wasn't. Not in hindsight."Is that what you want?"

You smile in response. No one had asked in months what you wanted. What you really wanted.

"What do you want, love? I'll pack up and move us back to Twelve tomorrow if that's what you really want." He says again, nothing short of desperation in his tone.

Faced with the option, you're really not sure. Yes, of course, you'd like to go home. It was very tempting. But Coryo was right, this education was important. You imagine for a moment the life you could have back home if you stuck it out a few more years. And maybe by then, you'll be better accepted here. Maybe by then, the Capitol will be a different place, and you'll be truly happy here. With him, and he will have the power to make the games go away.

"No, no." You shake your head. "I want to do something splendid...something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday." You say, and he can tell from your change in notation that the words are not your own. It was something new, unlike what he had heard from you before. He smiles. "I want to be with you, first and foremost."

"You'll always be with me. Where you go, I follow." He assures you. "I was happy in Twelve, if only because I had you."

"That should not be enough, though." You insist.

"It has been for you, hasn't it?" He asks, and you nod, biting your tongue.

He grins. "Then I promise, love, that would be more than enough for me."

"O-okay." You agree, suddenly flushed by his stare. Coryo smiles, looking briefly at your lips as you speak. To him, they seemed more tempting now than ever.

He starts to lean in and you move your head back quickly, a worried look crossing your face and you look around. "Coryo, we-"

"I don't care." He says quickly, gently pulling you back to him and pressing his lips to yours. Consequences are the last thing on his mind right now.

You take hold of the front of his delicately pressed shirt, pulling him closer with his hands on your neck. Here, in the middle of the university courtyard with the sun shining down on your back, everything is okay and at least for now, the cold night has given way to a warm, sunny morning.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[olderthannetfic]

Can I get encouragement ? reality check? advice? from older authors?

I've been learning how to write better and my fics have been getting better, in my opinion, and also a little more popular. But then I wrote this one fic that really blew up, literally several times more kudos than my second most popular. And I’m proud of it! I worked hard and applied all the writing advice and popular tropes and all. I can see for myself why it works and the comments confirm it.

But now I can’t write anything. I feel as if I’m not allowed to write anymore my trashy 1k tertiary character POVs and crackfic and gen poems that get 10 hits. Like I should only post fics I've worked equally hard on, like I’m somehow obligated to maintain the same level of that one fic even though I logically know that its popularity was a fluke and not something I can do again even if I decided to. But I still can’t write my trash.

I just… want to sit and wordvomit some random idea I had and then post it not because it’s good but because it exists. And I can’t. I may be starting to regret that I ever tried to learn to write good.

--

Ah, the second album curse!

Yeah, this hits everyone. It usually only gets better if you've produced a lot of work to the point that it's not just one single hit you're trying to live up to and one upward trajectory with one peak.

[yourlocallygrowngay]

Make Me Feel Human

A short fic about making Arthur Morgan feel loved because, oh boy does he need it. Gn reader, no use of y/n. Pure, unadulterated fluff.

------

The best thing about going on a food run with Arthur was that at least you could finally be alone together. You two always came back with plenty of meat and two big, dumb smiles on your faces.

Taking a break from hunting, you guys retired in the tent you had prepared to fool around a bit.

Arthur took your hand and led you inside, sitting you on his lap before kissing you, over and over and over. Small kisses peppered all over your features, then slow, passionate kisses turned into a full on making out session. He loved kissing you so much he would've stayed there all night doing just that. The small breaths you took in between kisses, the happy sighs that exited your nostrils, the small moans of enjoyment you made were music to his ears. He just missed you constantly and wished he got to do that more often. So he had to make it count when a chance like this presented itself.

You gently cupped his jaw as you introduced the tip of your tongue into his mouth, expecting him to suck it as he usually did, but this time he surprised you: he slid part of his tongue inside, making you jolt with surprise. You gladly followed his lead, enjoying this new development in how comfortable and bold he was becoming with you. At the beginning, he was almost afraid to touch you. Now, Arthur kissed you like he was hungry, his low pitched moans making your stomach burn with desire. You wished he was more vocal in these situations because you loved his voice, especially when he spoke softly. He only did that with you, so not nearly enough. You ran a hand through his long hair, and he hummed in approval. He loved it when you touched his hair: when he needed to unwind at night, he would gingerly ask to lay on your lap so you could play with his golden locks.

He trailed off your lips for a moment, leaving kisses on your chin and jaw before stopping to admire you. You smiled and tucked a shorter strand of hair behind his ear.

“What?” he chuckled, sensing you had something to say. He knew you well.

“You’re just so handsome.” You trailed your fingers along his shaved cheek. Arthur knew you liked him best when he was smooth shaven and his coarse facial hair wasn’t mercilessly poking at your sensitive skin, so he happily obliged if it meant you would kiss him more.

“Nah” he scoffed, “the only beautiful person in here is you.” And he was back on your lips, but you pushed him back playfully. The cowboy looked at you in confusion, his blue eyes searching yours.

“Are you saying I have bad taste, Morgan?” you provoked him, attempting to look outraged but unable to wipe that sarcastic smirk off your face.

Arthur struggled to answer, visibly torn between stating his alleged ugliness once more and insulting your taste.

“Well, when you put it like that…”

You leaned in again, hovering your lips on his and watching his eyes flutter shut. How beautiful he looked when you were about to kiss him, his features finally relaxed and his eyebrows slightly tilted upwards. He caught you off-guard when he suddenly closed the space between your mouths, sucking fervently on your bottom lip and sinking into you with his whole body. You could feel his heart racing against your chest now, pumped from all the love he felt for you.

“What is it you like ‘bout me anyways?” he murmured softly against your lips. His cheeks were as red as freshly picked cherries and you couldn’t tell if he was blushing of if he was just hot.

“I… like… your eyes,” you laid your lips on his eyelids in between words and Arthur sighed blissfully.

“Your nose,” you pecked the tip of his nose and he smirked, amused by your little game.

“Your chin,” you focused on the hollow just underneath his bottom lip, making him release a shaky breath.

“Your scars,”, the two pink marks on his chin were given your attention too, along with the few small cuts around his lips, under his eye and across the bridge of his nose.

“Your wrinkles.” He kept his eyes closed as you kissed every place where his tanned skin folded: the sides of his nose, his forehead and his temples.

“Everything about you is beautiful to me. You don’t even have to try, Arthur.”

Arthur thought he was going to cry. Nobody had ever made him feel like you did, so loved, so cared for and… well, not as ugly as he saw himself. Your eyes, your voice… there was no way you didn’t mean what you said, and he had a talent for recognizing bullshit. He felt his eyes glazing over and blinked quickly to fight back some tears. He didn’t know how to react to praise, as he was usually the one doing it.

Sensing his internal turmoil, you hugged him tight. He hid his face in the crook of your neck and let a lonely tear roll down his cheek.

“Thank you” he whispered against your shoulder.

“For what?”

“For making me feel human.”

[stargirlfeyre]

“Mor went through similar trauma as Nesta so why does she hate her instead of helping her”

…..

It is because of Mor’s trauma that she is reluctant to help Nesta.

Let me break this down and make it simple for you. Mor is a victim of familial abuse. She grew up in a place that was prejudiced, classist, closed minded, misogynistic etc. Now she has a friend, Feyre, who is a victim of familial abuse (just like her though the types of abuse was different) from Nesta.

I don’t think a lot of you were listening (or comprehending) when Mor said that Nesta reminded her of the people from the CoN. Y’all became too angry because of that sentence that it stopped y’all from actually comprehending what Mor was saying. From Mor’s pov Nesta is a slut-shamer who is also prejudiced, close minded, and abused her sister…why would Mor like or want to help her when from the outside looking in she shares a lot of the same qualities as the people who Mor grew up with?

Even during their first meeting Nesta looks down on Mor for what she wears…something that her family did. Nesta looks down on Cassian for being an “Illyrian bastard”…something that the CoN does. Nesta abuses and degrades her little sister…something Mor also went through. I feel like a lot of Nesta fans are just too in denial about how terrible she actually comes across because they don’t want to accept that every person who has disliked Nesta has had a valid reason to do so.

I don’t know why this fandom sees Mor as a tool for the Archeron sisters to heal and not her own person with trauma and experiences. Just because she helped Feyre that does not mean she is now obligated to help or understand Nesta. Just because they are both traumatized women that does not mean they are obligated to help one another. I mean you never say Nesta should have helped Mor with her trauma? You never call her out for slut shaming her…so why is Mor expected to? Why is Mor expected to reach out and connect with a stranger who has never once been nice to her?

“She should be mature enough to overlook Nesta’s prickliness and see that she’s hurting” shouldn’t Nesta be mature enough to not go around slut-shaming strangers and seeing women (even her own sister) as competitors? That’s your feminism icon?

Just because Mor is Feyre’s bestie that does not mean she has to connect with Nesta. I mean you don’t see us saying the Valkyries should go to the River house and help Feyre with any of her issues…

[cursedlovesstuff]

Fixing Us. Part 1.

Y/N found herself stuck in a relentless routine.

Each passing day seemed to blur into the next, a disheartening repetition of Nat's absence and Y/N's solitary dinners.

As the hours ticked by, Y/N couldn't shake the gnawing suspicion that Nat's late nights were more than just work obligations.

Despite her longing for connection, Y/N's attempts to bridge the growing chasm between her and Nat fell on deaf ears.

The once vibrant bond they shared now felt like a distant memory, leaving Y/N feeling adrift in a sea of loneliness.

Determined to reclaim her sense of self-worth, Y/N went out on a journey of self-discovery.

Early morning jogs and a part-time job designing clothes provided a temporary distraction, but it was the tattoos that became her solace.

Venturing out with friends offered a fleeting escape from the monotony of her daily life.

Tonight was one of these nights where Y/N met Carol.

There was something familiar about her, a warmth that drew Y/N in like a moth to a flame.

Y/N was sitting at the bar watching others dance while stirring her drink with her straw.

"Do you usually come to bars just to watch others dance?" a voice says, making Y/N look up, shaking her head.

"I thought this was a lounge," Y/N says, smiling a bit.

"It's both," Carol says, putting her hand out for Y/N to shake while saying her name.

"Carol."

Y/N looks at Carol's hand before shaking it, saying, "Y/N."

"It's nice to meet you again, Y/N."

"Likewise."

The pair had met before a few times at some old work events and ran into each other a few weeks ago at this same lounge.

"I don't want to sound rude, but you used to work at SHIELD, right?" Carol asked, her eyes alight with curiosity.

Y/N nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, I did. But I left a few years ago," she replied, her voice tinged with regret.

"Why did you leave?"

"I wanted to start a new chapter of my life, and it just wasn't the right fit anymore."

Carol's gaze lingered on Y/N, a silent understanding passing between them. "I can imagine it must have been a difficult decision," she remarked, her tone sympathetic.

Y/N shrugged, a pang of longing tugging at her heart. "It was. But sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the ones you love, even if they aren't willing to do the same for you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Carol nodded, understanding. As it got a bit quiet, Y/N said, "So what brings the great Captain Marvel here?"

"So you do know who I am," Carol replied, amused.

"Maybe."

"How come you never spoke?"

"I was shy and newlywed. My main focus was on work and getting home to my wife. I didn't have time back then."

"Wife, huh?"

"Natasha," Y/N says, taking a sip of her drink.

"Nat's married?" Carol asks, a bit shocked.

"Surprisingly yes, but she seems to forget that a lot."

"Just to be clear, you mean Romanoff, right? And you're still married?" Carol questions.

"Four years," Y/N says, halfway flashing her ring before saying, "probably not for much longer anyway."

Carol notices Y/N's mood change before asking Y/N if she would like to dance. Y/N is hesitant before she says yes, gently grasping the hand Carol put out for her to grab as she pulled her to the dance floor.

As carol pulled y/n through the crowd of sweety bodys they found themselves in the middle of the dance floor.

"Do you know this song?" Carol asks to which y/n shakes her head no.

"Iv never heard it"

"Good just let your body move to the beat follow me".

There wasn't any rush or anything; the two were just having fun like only friends. Carol even spun Y/N a few times. The time seemed to fly by; what only felt like an hour of dancing turned out to be three as the two made their way back to the bar to get some water. They arrived at the same time as Nat.

"Y/N," Nat asks, surprised to see her wife.

"Hi, Nat," Y/N replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Nat's gaze flickered between Y/N and Carol, a hint of jealousy flashing in her eyes before she turned her attention back to Y/N. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, though her heart raced with apprehension. "Just out for a drink with friends," she replied, her eyes darting between Nat and Carol.

"Where are your friends?" Nat asked, slightly looking around.

"Lilly went home, and Esther is still dancing, so I'm with my new friend Carol," Y/N answered back.

"I didn't know you were friends with Carol," Nat said.

"You don't know all my friends," Y/N responded.

Nat didn't take Y/N's nonchalant yet sassy tone lightly.

"Then why are you at a bar you hate bars and clubs"

"Its also a lounge" y/n says.

"Its both"carol says making y/n smile as she turned her head to look at carol. Nat noticed this and she didn't like it.

As she eyed carol she gently grabbed Y/N's cup out of her hand, sitting it down, and grabbing Y/N's hand before looking at Carol.

"Excuse me; I think it's time my wife and I head home."

Before Y/N or Carol could say anything, Nat practically dragged Y/N to the front door, only being able to give Carol an apologetic look as she and Nat made it to the front of the bar but stopped at a table.

"Sorry I have to leave early,theres something y/n and i need to discuss"

As the team looks at Y/N, saying their hi's.

"You look beautiful, Lady Y/N," Thor says, making Y/N smile a bit while saying thank you

"Are you sure you don't want to stay drinks are on me" tony says as everyone at the table cheers.

"Yeah you guys should totally stay"carol says, which makes Nat only drag Y/N along further out of the bar after saying they couldnt towards the car.

Halfway there, Y/N finally gets out of Nat's grip.

"What is wrong with you, Nat, dragging me out of the bar like a psychopath?"

"What is wrong with Y/N being out this late at night by yourself?"

"I wasn't by myself."

"You know what I mean; I'm taking you home. End of discussion," Nat says, raising her voice a bit.

"No," Y/N says finally putting her foot down.

"What did you just say?" Nat asks.

"I said no," Y/N said before saying, "I'm going to go back into that bar and order me another shot and then another, and I'm going to have fun".

"You can have fun tomorrow when its bright outside and there are less drunk people there"

"I can protect myself natasha"

"Can you? Can you really because its been four years since you were an agent and had any type of training"

"Yeah and whos fault is that because it's not mine"

"What"

"You heard me your Your the reason that i quit being an agent your the reason why i havent trained in four years"

"because you got hurt on a mission,due to not being able to tell friend from foe"nat says making y/n scoff.

"Im perfectly capable from telling friends from foe"

"Then can you tell if carol your friend or just someone who wants to sleep with you"nat says without thinking making y/n feel hurt.

"What i can tell is that your being a dick,just because you have one doesn't mean you have to be one"

Y/n says walking backwards towards the bar saying"You can go home by yourself."y/n says turning around and walking towards the bar.

Its not long after she hears nat say" I'm going home, you're coming with me."

Before y/n knew it she was lifted off of her feet and thrown over someone's shoulder,nats shoulder.

Y/N truly forgot how strong nat was well...is.

"Put me down natasha"

Y/n says smacking nats back trying to get her to let go,but nat dosen't respond to it.

So y/n smacks nats back and butt harder in response nat hit y/n's butt hard enough to make her yelp and jump.

Nat tightens her grip so that she doesn't drop y/n,but there is no doubt that it will leave a mark in the morning.

"That isn't very nice is it?"nat asks but y/n doesn't respond she only continues to try and get out of nats grip.

Eventually y/n gives up realizing there is nothing she can do to get nat to let go.

Nat carries Y/N to the car, gently putting her down in the front seat, buckling her seat belt.

Before slamming the front door and walking around and getting in and closing the door.