#she ignores them both equally

[wilcze-kudly]

"Why did Toph come to save Su but not Lin?"

We can solve this mystery ✨️together✨️

[wonder-worker]

"[Elizabeth Woodville] was the only member of [Crown Prince Edward of Westminster's] original 1471 council not already on the king’s council and her name headed the list of those appointed as administrators in Wales during Edward’s minority. [She remained on the council after it was expanded in 1473 and granted significant new governing and judicial powers]."

"In 1478 Prince Richard [of Shrewsbury] married the Mowbray heiress. Like his elder brother he had a chancellor, seal, household and council to manage his estates. His council, like that of Prince Edward, comprised the queen [Elizabeth Woodville] and a group of magnates and bishops, few of whom were Woodville supporters [...] It was Elizabeth who mattered, for Richard resided with her and Rivers treated his affairs as their own."

-J.L. Laynesmith, The Last Medieval Queens: English Queenship 1445-1503 / Michael Hicks, Richard III and his Rivals: Magnates and their Motives in the Wars of the Roses

[fromtheseventhhell]

Renly had seemed anxious to know if the girl reminded him of anyone, and when Ned had no answer but a shrug, he had seemed disappointed. The maid was Loras Tyrell's sister Margaery, he'd confessed, but there were those who said she looked like Lyanna. "No," Ned had told him, bemused. (Eddard VI, AGOT)

This is literally people in fandom trying to make shallow connections between Lyanna and [X character] and presenting them as equally important as parallels drawn directly in the text. In fact, this coming after Ned tells Arya she reminds him of Lyanna (in looks and behavior) feels like George cementing the importance of their likeness. Other characters might have passing similarities to Lyanna, but Arya's parallels are much more meaningful than that and are being highlighted for a reason.

[brotherslayer]

Derrick trying to buy Penelope's love and forgiveness by gifting her a necklace and Penelope giving Iklies a necklace and expecting his love and total obedience in return are the same scenes in a different font

[doubleedgemode]

It's about time I drop my class ideas for the g.o. AU:

Note. I don't think the class names end in S if you're saying it on a plural way but, whatever:

Iops: Sol, Baiken, Leo, Zako B, Kliff, Slayer and Nagoriyuki (the latter two are iops in a much more vampiric way than usual)

Sadidas: Jam (being surrounded by plants does absolutely NOT help with a flammable restaurant)

Ecaflips: Johnny, Chipp, Zako C

Cras: Bridget

Xelors: Axl, I-No, Bedman and Delilah

Fecas: Potemkin, Answer and Anji

Sacrieurs: A.B.A, Raven

Eniripsas: Faust, Fanny and Leap

Ouginaks: Izuna

Huppermages: Ky, Judgment.. Zappa too perhaps?

Osamodas: May, Giovanna and Testament

EliAtropes: Ramlethal, Happy Chaos

Eliatrope Dragon: Elphelt

A very special eliatrope/dragon: Aria/Justice/Valentine (yes they're the same person in this au. Actually, it's not set in stone but at least Justice would be a super cool dragon for sure)

EliOtropes: Dizzy, Sin

Maskeraider but, not like the canon ones, I think: Jack-O

Minor almost godly spirits which are basically personifications of the Paladir/Necrome thing: Undine and Necro, respectively (come on even his name fits)

Regular unaffiliated humans: Goldlewis, Vernon, Daryl (I might make him a hupper..? but maybe he'd then be too similar to Ky) Crow

Steamer: Haehyun and Zappa (that or a hupper or unaffiliated..)

Steamer adjacent robot or something: Robo-Ky and RK MK II

Sacrimages *: Asuka

Srams: Millia and Venom

Roublards: Zato and Zako A

Shushus: Eddie, Lucifero, Roger, S-KO, Angra, the bad guy that got ahold of Judgment and Paracelsus

Elemental/or some sort of regular dragon: Dr Paradigm (I GUESS)

As for Leopaldon.. I don't know. Maybe the human is an osa, the dog is a mulou and the gear is a shushu but.. Dunno. Leopaldon is Leopaldon lmao

Idk for Ariels either.. Maybe a hupper?? Probably I'll go the boring routes or make her (spoiler) canon in this au, as the gg one, or just a high level shushu

Goldlewis' coffin friend: A very minor god who's almost in the verge of disappearing due to people not believing in them. Their only believer? Goldlewis, but he believes they're an unexplained monster (monster as in the kros.moz definition where they just commonly exist) so, they're there but not that powerful..

Janvis or whatever the jellyfish cat is called: Chacha :)

*ofc hybrid classes are a topic of contention but, they are Technically canon yet very rare. Asuka is straight up a Hupper, and probably was one before, but his perspective about pain and his eye thing that remind me of larmes de sang (sacrieur technique) gave me the vibes so he became both. Sacrimages is a made-up word, but with Nitura calling hybrid classes a combination of their names (ex: osadida) I thought Sacrimage would fit the bill.

[astronomalyy]

Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.

They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.

And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.

Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.

A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.

Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.

Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.

Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.

[ripcupid]

Please write trans sevika with a cream pie kink.

𓄀𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ dirty girl

trans!sevika x fem!reader

word count : 2.1k

This was a mix between this and the request which just made it even better thank you anon 🙏🏾🙏🏾 side note love this Sev cooch shot

another side note THANK YOU FOR HOW POPULAR SOMETHING SPECIAL IS OMG i hope y’all enjoy this as well

Sevika knows she should just let you sleep but she can't ignore the growing ache of her cock as she stares at your sleeping body. Her eyes trail over your tits as they rise and fall with each breath, noticing the way your nipples harden under the thin fabric of your shirt from the cool air in the room.

She bites her lip, cursing quietly under her breath as she palms herself through her pajama bottoms, unable to resist your pretty body even while you sleep. She struggles to keep her moans quiet, slapping her hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds threatening to escape her as her cock grows harder with every movement.

Giving into her desire, Sevika slowly and carefully pushes down her pajama bottoms, revealing her aching cock, already glistening with pre-cum.

She strokes herself slowly, dropping her head back against the headboard as she imagines it's your cunt wrapped around her or your hand, pumping her cock as you stare at her with your big sweet eyes.

With the thoughts of touching and kissing you, and how pretty you would look and sound with her cock buried deep inside your equally pretty pussy, Sevika gets lost in her head, forgetting about you sleeping soundly in the bed next to her.

You stir in your sleep at the sound of her heavy breathing and soft moans, slowly waking up to find Sevika lost in her fantasies, completely unaware that you are now awake— or so you thought.

You can't help but stare in awe, feeling your cunt begin to ache at the sight unfolding in front of you. "Ya just gonna sit there and watch?" Sevika breathes out with a light chuckle, catching you off guard as her eyes meet yours.

You feel a rush of arousal soak your panties as you sit up, resting your head on your hand to watch her with a hungry gaze. “Don’t stop ‘cause of me,” you reply.

Your eyes flick between her face and her cock as she continues to stroke herself, a dazed grin playing on her lips. "This was because of me?" you ask, pulling back the blanket partially covering the both of you to fully see her. Sevika's grin widens as she nods, her hand never stopping its movements.

"All for you, baby," she chuckles, "Wanna help me finish?" You bite your lip, nodding eagerly as she removes her hand from her cock and reaches out for yours, guiding it to wrap around her throbbing length.

As you begin to stroke her, you gawk at how her cock easily responds to your touch, watching the pre-cum dribble down the tip. You lean forward to lick up the bead of pre-cum, savoring the taste as Sevika lets out a low moan.

"Mmm, that's it, baby," Sevika moans, her eyes fluttering shut as her hips buck against your hand.

Staring up at her face, you can't help but beg, "I wanna taste more of you, Sevi, can I please?" Sevika looks down at you, stroking the back of your head with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Go 'head, baby," she whispers, spreading her legs wider as you move between them. You keep your eyes locked on hers as she guides your lips to her cock with a firm grip on your hair. You trace the prominent vein on the underside of her cock, feeling it twitch in your hands.

“Is that good?” You ask, slowly pumping your fist as you trace down the length, savoring the taste of her skin.

"Mmm, very good, baby," Sevika moans, sinking back against the bed with a satisfied smile. "Take it all the way, just like that," she urges, pushing your head down further till her tip hits the back of your throat. She holds your head in place, her face scrunching up as she tries to keep herself from coming too soon.

Your hands grip her thighs for support as she bobs your head up and down, shamelessly using your mouth for her pleasure. Each movement of her hips makes you gag but you don't dare pull away, wanting to please her and make her feel good.

"You're so good, baby," she pants, her voice husky with desire, "such a good girl." Sevika's hips begin to falter as she nears her climax, her breathing becoming ragged and desperate.

You whine pathetically as she pulls you off, strings of spit connecting your lips to her cock as you continue to jerk her off. "You gonna let me cum on that pretty face of yours?" she grins, letting go of your hair to brush her thumb over your swollen lips.

"Yes, please," you whimper, your desire evident in your voice as you look up at her with pleading eyes. Sevika smirks, stroking your cheek with her thumb before gripping your cheeks to make your tongue lol out.

"Good girl," she groans, her hips bucking up in your hand as she nears the edge, "'m gonna cum, okay, baby?" You nod eagerly, speeding up your movements, feeling her twitch and shudder in your hand as she reaches her peak. With a final, guttural moan, Sevika releases onto your awaiting tongue and face, her legs trembling with pleasure as you help her ride out her orgasm.

You eagerly swallow the bit that lands on your tongue, licking your lips as you look up at her with a satisfied smile. You sit up, wiping your face with the back of your hand, as you watch Sevika catch her breath.

"C'mere," Sevika says, laughing as she catches a glimpse of your messy face. She pulls you up for a deep, passionate kiss, tasting herself on your lips.

"You taste so good, Sev," you whisper into the kiss. She pulls away with a mischievous grin, squeezing your cheeks playfully, "You're a dirty girl, aren't you, baby?" she teases, making your face heat up.

"Only for you," you giggle in response, leaning in for another kiss. You crawl into her lap and wrap your arms around her neck, your lips moving hungrily against hers.

Sevika's hands find their way to your ass, squeezing it firmly as she deepens the kiss making you moan softly against her lips. As her lips move down to your neck to leave a trail of kisses, you can't help but grind down on her limp cock, feeling it begin to stir beneath you.

Sevika's breath hitches at your bold move, and she responds by giving you a light spank on your ass, causing you to gasp in surprise and pleasure.

"Careful, baby," she warns, pressing her lips against your ear. You pout as she holds you still, wanting her to finally relieve the throbbing ache between your legs.

"Please, Sevi," you whine, your voice coming out in a desperate plea as you push yourself against her, trying to get some friction to alleviate the ache. "I wanna cum on your cock so bad," you moan, feeling her harden up again.

She smirks at your impatience, teasing you with light kisses along your jawline before she finally releases her grip on your hips, allowing you to move against her once more. "You know it makes me so hard when you beg like that," she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear.

You shiver at the sound of her voice, her hands slipping under your shirt before she lays back to see the desperation in your eyes. "Tell me again what you want." You gasp as she starts to grope your tits, her fingers pinching and teasing at your nipples.

"I wanna cum on your cock," you whimper, unable to stop yourself from grinding against her, "please baby." You fist her shirt in your hands, humping her desperately as her eyes flick down to where you sit on her lap.

"I can feel how wet you are," she whispers, holding your hips before stopping your movements. "Take off your clothes, let me see all of you, baby." You eagerly comply, getting off her to strip off your clothes as she watches with a hungry gaze.

As you stand bare by the bed, she reaches out and pulls you closer, her hand tracing along your skin. "C'mere baby," she murmurs, guiding you to straddle her lap again.

You can't stop the whiny moan that escapes your lips as you feel her cock pressing against you. You slowly roll your hips against her, placing your hands on her abs for support before she pulls you down to kiss you deeply, her hands resting on your ass.

"Lift your hips for me," she whispers against your lips. You comply, feeling her tip pressing against your entrance, making you bite your lip in anticipation.

Sevika watches your face intently, reveling in the way your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw goes slack as she slowly pulls you down onto her cock, the sensation causing a loud moan to escape your lips. Your head drops down on her shoulder, burying your face in her neck as you get overwhelmed by her filling and stretching you in the most delicious way.

Her hands grip your hips firmly as she guides your hips in a steady rhythm up and down, each drag of her cock sending waves of pleasure straight to your cunt. The space between y'all fills with the sound of your needy whines and the soft wet sounds of her cock slipping in and out of you.

"You're so deep," you mumble, lifting your head to leave a trail of kisses along her jawline. "I fucking love your cock," you moan in Sevika's ear before capturing her lips in a hungry kiss, fisting the sheets beneath you to anchor yourself as you ride her with increasing fervor.

Sevika's hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as she thrusts up into you, losing her composure by the second. Her moans mix with yours as her other hand slides down your back to grip your ass, urging you to move faster and harder.

You sit up, your hands roaming over her abs and chest as you look down at Sevika. "You look so fucking hot, baby," she groans through gritted teeth, her hands moving to grope your tits as you continue to rock your hips against hers.

Your hand cups her hand, dragging it down your body to where you need it most. "I need you here, Sevi," you whine, guiding her hand to where you ache for her touch. She nods eagerly, biting her lip in excitement at how you guide her and take what you need from her.

With a hungry look in her eyes, Sevika follows your lead, letting you drag her hand down your stomach and between your thighs to your clit. Your body jerks and your hips falter as she rubs the neglected bud in slow circles with her thumb.

"I got you, baby, just keep ridin' me," she whispers, her other hand caressing your twitching thighs. You moan in response, arching your back and gripping her wrist tighter as you feel the tension bubbling in your belly.

Sevika stares at where your bodies meet, watching how your cunt greedily swallows her cock, swearing she won't last much longer with the way you're squeezing her so tight.

"Fuck, baby, look at you taking me so well," she groans, feeling her climax building as she thrusts deeper into you. "Can't hold back much longer," she pants, her brain foggy with the feeling of you.

"Sev," you whimper, snatching her attention back to your face, "Wanna cum with you, please."

Sevika chuckles breathlessly at your plea. "Come on, baby, cum for me," she encourages, moving your hips the way she wants as you fist her shirt, moaning and whining incoherently as you both reach your limit.

"That's it, baby," she grunts, her body shuddering as your walls clench around her making her spill inside you. "God, you feel so good," she murmurs, closing her eyes as she slows your hips and you both ride out your highs together.

As Sevika lays beneath you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, you try to get off of her, but she holds you in place. She peeks up at you with a teasing grin, whispering, "Where you goin’? You gotta keep it all in, baby, wouldn't want to waste any." making you laugh breathlessly.

"But, Sev, I'm all sweaty and gross," you protest, trying to squirm out of her grasp. Sevika just grins mischievously, pulling you down for a kiss, "I like my dirty girl," she whispers against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Fine," you relent, rolling your eyes playfully before kissing her back. "What if we take a shower together?" you suggest a mischievous glint in your eye, slipping your hand under her shirt as her lips trail down your neck.

"Mmh, that sounds perfect, baby," Sevika murmurs, her hands sliding down your back to your ass, giving it a playful spank before letting you off her lap.

Merry soon Christmas if you celebrate I wanted to make Christmas smut but 🤷🏾‍♀️ and hope y’all had good finals cuz ik I’m fucked but it’s cool

[ellecdc]

a marauders guide to siblings

Sirius Black x Potter!reader + moonwater + jily [1.4k words]

CW: fem!reader, reader is James' twin, siblings

James loved love. Like, if someone were to ask James what his favourite thing was, first he would say quidditch, then he would say pranking, then he’d probably say his beautiful girlfriend Lily, and then he would absolutely without a doubt say love.

Oh, and maybe also he’d say ABBA, but the order wasn’t important, alright? The point was: James loved love.

So, once the rest of his mates found partners of their own (save Peter), he immediately began begging them for a triple date. But for as mischievous as his friends were, they were equally (if not painfully more) stubborn.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Please!?”

“I said no, James.” Remus sighed as he rubbed harshly at his eyes; and sure, perhaps cornering him in the hospital wing following a full moon when he had nowhere to run nor hide from James’ pestering wasn’t very couth of James, but in James’ defence, he-

“POTTER.” Regulus barked from the door to the hospital wing that he just burst through, completely ignoring the reproachful shushing from the matron. “I swear to Salazar if you do not step away from my boyfriend, I-”

Except James never got to hear what Regulus planned on doing if he did not step away from his boyfriend because James - a smart man - chose that moment to shout “promise me you’ll think about it, moons!” before fleeing from the room. 

It had gone just about the same with Sirius. 

“No can do, Prongsie boy.” Sirius drawled without looking up from his study notes.

“And just why not?” James spat, obviously having had it up to here with his sodding no good best friends anyone could ever ask for. 

Sirius hummed as he looked off into the distance like he was giving this question actual thought. “Oh, right. Because I don’t want to.” He deadpanned.

“Why not.”

“James.” Sirius hissed as he sat up straighter, eyeing the librarian who was eyeing the two infamous marauders right back. “I have no interest in sitting at a table with my brother as he makes googly eyes at my best friend, nor-” he paused as he held his hand up when James went to interject, “do I want to sit at a table with my girlfriends brother as I make googly eyes at her.” 

“Then just don’t make googly eyes at my sister.” James hissed back, earning him a scoff.

“Have you seen your sister? That’s impossible.”

“Eugh.”

“See.” Sirius accused, raising a knowing eyebrow at him. “I’m not doing it.” 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

But if there was one thing James hated in equal measure as he loved love, it was quitting.

And in case that wasn’t clear; James hated quitting. 

“Oh good, you’re all here.” You announced robotically as you approached Remus, Regulus, Lily, and Sirius at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

“You alright, Potter?” Regulus questioned slowly, looking between Sirius and Remus concernedly as they both let out a groan.

“What now?” Sirius muttered as he pinched the space between his brows.

“I’m supposed to say…” you continued, pausing to pull a cue card from your pocket and reading directly from it. “As you all know, the wonderful and momentous anniversary of James Fleamont Potter’s birth is approaching-”

You hardly spared a breath for the unimpressed snort from Remus at the fact that you and James shared a sodding birthday.

“-and his one wish - in place of any gifts - is for all of us to accompany him to one triple date at The Three Broomsticks on the next Hogsmeade weekend.” You finished, only looking up at the group when you finished reciting your script before pocketing it again. 

“What exactly do you get out of this arrangement?” Lily asked as she leaned back in her chair.

“A triple date?” You answered in the form of a question.

“What do you really get out of this?” Remus asked with a laugh.

“James promised me an unlimited amount of jelly slugs for the rest of the school year.” You offered bashfully.

“Oh.” Sirius groaned theatrically before pulling you into his lap. “My poor sweet girl, being coerced by means of sweets.” He cooed pathetically into your hair. 

“Does that mean you’ll do it?!” James shrieked excitedly as he appeared out of bloody fucking no where. 

“Circe’s fucking tits.” Regulus hissed as he clutched at his chest. 

Sirius scoffed as he removed one arm from around your waist to gesture at his brother. “Look what you’ve done now, James; you’ve reduced my baby brother to swears and blasphemy. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Please?” James asked quietly; puppy dog eyes darting nervously between his best friends, his girlfriend, his best friend’s boyfriend, and his sister.

And finally, after months of begging and badgering and whining and pestering, James finally got his triple date. 

Except…except something was bothering James…

Which was weird, because it was perfect. 

James got to see Regulus smile for quite possibly the first time ever when Remus offered him a bite of his meal from his own fork and then immediately stole a kiss when Regulus wasn’t paying attention. 

For as wound up and fidgety you’d been on the walk down to Hogsmeade, James watched any and all tension melt from your body the second Sirius pulled a chair out for you, situated himself in the spot next to it and threw his arm over you like that’s where it was simply meant to be. 

And the sound of Lily’s bubbling laughter echoed somewhere deep in James’ rib cage every time Sirius or Remus took the piss at James’ expense. 

“Oh, James, you’d really like this.” You insisted then, interrupting James from his musings as you held your plate out for him to take a helping for his own plate. 

“Awe, you guys are sweet.” Lily commented before she accepted a bite from James who had, indeed, really liked what you had ordered. 

“Remus is already feeding you enough over there, don’t even think about it.” Sirius called over to Regulus who was actually not thinking about it at all, thank you very much, earning him a glare from his brother. 

And that’s when it hit James.

“Wait a second.” He commented, causing everyone to look at him warily. “Sirius is dating my sister,” he started, ignoring Sirius’ groan and Remus’ quiet ‘here we go’, “and Remus is dating Sirius’ brother…then what about me?”

Regulus let out an inelegant snort as Lily scoffed in offence. “What do you mean ‘what about me’!?” She shrilled. 

“Prongs, listen,” Sirius whispered conspiratorially, “I don’t want to alarm you, but you’re very close to losing the girl you spent six long years trying to snag.”

But before James could blanche (or beg for Lily’s forgiveness), Remus chuckled. “Don’t worry, James. I’ll claim Lily as a sibling and then you can be dating my sister.”

“What the fuck?” Regulus muttered at the same time Lily murmured “you’ll what?” and James cheered “that’s brilliant!”. 

“Why on earth would that matter?” Regulus asked, though the end of his sentence trailed off when you started shaking your head. 

“It’s best not to question it, Reg.” You offered him knowingly. 

“Fine.” Lily muttered, nodding her chin over at Remus. “Then you have to share your chips.” 

In response, Remus lobbed one across the table, hitting her right in the forehead which started a petty sibling squabble right there in the middle of The Three Broomsticks.

“Yes.” James whispered reverently. “This is perfect.” 

“Were the jelly slugs worth it then?” Sirius murmured into your cheek as James cackled at the pettiness between the pseudo-siblings and Regulus threatened to bring them all back to the castle with no dessert if they didn’t smarten up. 

You smirked as you turned your face towards his, though he made no effort to create space for you which left the two of you basically nose to nose. “At least I got something out of this.”

“I got something out of this.” Sirius said easily, continuing when you raised an eyebrow at him. “I got to spend an evening with my girl. That’s worth any nonsense.” 

You smiled before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, reciprocating quickly when he greedily demanded more. “Well then, happy birthday to James Potter, I guess.”

Happy birthday to James, indeed.

[wandasaura]

PAINTED ALL MY NIGHTS

summary — your mommy was mean, but your daddy could be downright cruel. it makes for an interesting night when they both decide to leave you wanting until you’re not sure how much more teasing you can take, and even then, they’re not going to give in easily

warning(s) — established relationship, daddy kink, mommy kink, mild pet play, dumbification, humiliation, degradation, praise, teasing, butt plugs, dry humping, shoe humping, inspection kink, oral, fingering, choking, crying, pussy spanking, mentions of chastity belts, begging, orgasm control/denial, edging, overstimulation, forced orgasms, squirting, oral fixation (brief), finger sucking, ¿arousal tasting?, mean mommy wanda, cruel daddy natty, aftercare, men/minors dni

A soft current of chilled air swept beneath the thick desk your body remained crammed beneath, adding goosebumps to the array of blemishes against your satin skin. How you’d managed to acquire a collage of bruises on your shins wasn’t quite a mystery, but like a canvas speckled with vibrant acrylic paints, the evidence of their existence was undeniable and honestly laughable. The summer heat was thick, falling over your quaint little town as if its intention was purely to suffocate those that resided near the shorelines of New Jersey, but even beneath an office desk, curled into a tight ball, head resting on plush thighs the color of warm sand, the low thrum of the air conditioner remained a steady presence keeping you cool. A hum, softer than a whisper stolen in a overstimulating crowd, slipped off your lips when manicured fingers the color of divine cherries embedded themselves within your undone hair, scratching tenderly at your scalp that had yearned for attention since you’d wiggled your way underneath the desk your girlfriend worked at. That was how you’d acquired so many faint yet assuredly purple bruises, crawling across wooden floorboards and banging your limbs on hard wooden corners just trying to be close to the women that you love. 

Your eyes, a beautiful definition of color that had somehow become the lifeline your girlfriends hadn’t known they’d been missing until they met you, looked up, just barely able to steal a glance at the woman working at the desk you sat beneath. Her own eyes, a kaleidoscope of unreplicable blues and greens, were trained to the litany of emails that had collected since the night before when she’d sat in the same place for hours attempting to respond to them all. Perhaps you had been ignorant, but before your world had been remade into what it current is, you’d never given professional trainers much thought; had never dwelled on the profession long enough to consider how in demand they are amongst military units and police squads, but your girlfriend, the one who was just slightly older than the other, had made a name for herself out of that very profession, and each day that she wasn’t stolen from you by obligations to train the cities sharpest officers, she spent an unhealthy amount of hours answering emails that all demanded to know when she was free next, and how far she was willing to travel for her services. 

“You okay down there, puppy?” The tone of her voice was low, and admittedly husky from minimal use throughout the endless day that had befallen you, but equally soft as it fell against your attention deprived heart and showered you in warmth that wasn’t nearly as cruel as the unwavering heat that plagued the streets of West View. A sweet blush fell over your cheeks, a strangled whine slipping off your lips as you rocked your hips against the wooden floorboards, searching for something more; something adamantly forbidden. “Use your words, please.” 

With a displeased grunt, your brain foggy despite the little action your wanting body had seen since you’d woken up tangled within cold bed sheets, you pieced together a simple sentence, direct enough to convey your desperation, but just sweet enough that your workaholic girlfriend would forgive your bluntness easily. “Want you.” It was so simple, so telling, so pure, and yet it wouldn’t be enough to convince her and you knew that. Your Mommy was mean, that was an unchanging factor in your sexual endeavors, but your Daddy could be downright cruel if she felt like it. 

Another hum filled the air, though hers was prominent, filled with simple dominance that made your belly coil in unattainable pleasure and fear. “Is that so?” She chided, not tearing her gaze away from her desktop screen for even a second to take in the sight of you curled up so sweetly in a ball by her feet. Had she looked down, taken just a simple glance at your disheveled state, she would’ve noticed the dark patch adorning the center of your cotton panties, she would’ve noticed the way your pebbled nipples poked through the thin tank top clinging to your torso in an effortlessly enticing manor, she would’ve noticed your desperation glazed eyes and arousal flush cheeks, but she didn’t, and you knew that it was purposeful. She was diminishing you to be nothing but her brainless pet, and as hard as you fought to stay coherent and clear-minded throughout her trickery, it was working too well. 

You’d known the game she was wanting to play since she’d coaxed you into taking one of the fancier plugs that had been purchased for your puckered hole early that mid-morning. You’d been eager to play, wiggling your hips and pushing back on the fingers that gently worked you open at a pace so slow it rivaled drying paint, but she’d found restraint since the last time you’d played this game, and patience was ever so slowly ebbing away from your wanting body. A whine, high pitched and entirely petulant fell off of your lips when nothing was given to you in the aftermath of her taunt. You rooted harder against the light oak floorboards, bracing your palms mere inches in front of your body, hoping that the balanced pressure would provide you relief, but all you’d accomplished was alerting her of your sneaky actions, and so carelessly a shoe covered foot jutted out to become your undoing. A sob broke through your lips the second her shoe nestled itself between your trembling thighs, giving you a silent ultimatum that unfortunately, you weren’t desperate enough to take up just yet. The unspoken demand was simple; ride her shoe or stop whining, but humiliation was engraved in the degrading task, and your brain, a helpless pile of submissive mush, hadn’t been undone quite enough to take the bait. 

Settling back against the floorboards like you’d been prior to your short-lived act of defiance, her shoe a bulky presence beneath your body giving just enough pleasure to not be forgotten about entirely, you dropped your flush cheek to her upper-shin once more, nipping at her unblemished skin in frustration. Her fingers were quick to reprimand you, nestling into your undone hair and pulling sharply, giving you no ounce of grace despite being the cause of your misbehaving. 

Another hour passed after that without so much as a glance in your direction, and then another, and then another, until the sun was sinking beneath the shorelines of New Jersey being replaced by moonlight that glimmered against every reflective surface in the home office. Your girlfriend, the artist, was due home soon. She’d been called away to her gallery early, preparations for a mid-season showcase taking up most of her time nowadays, but you could always count on her comforting presence before the canvas of sunset could melt away entirely. You whined as you shifted against the floors, rocking your sopping cunt into your girlfriend's shoe incidentally, an electric pulse of pleasure shooting up your spine and tangling into the center of your belly where one off sparks had been shooting off at for hours. It hadn’t been intentional, your only intention had been to relieve your aching bones for a few simple seconds, but instead you found yourself tethered to the source of pleasure you found despite the humiliation that just barely crossed your mind, and again, your hips rocked, and again, pleasure shot through you like a bullet train. 

If your girlfriend noticed how you humped her shoe and clung to her leg and whined and whimpered and twitched with pleasure, which she most definitely did, nothing was said. There was no demand to stop that followed your curious movements, no assurance that despite your disgusting act you were good, so good, no verbal humiliation regarding how disgustingly needy your brainless pussy was. There was nothing, and the lack of attention only brought forth a new wave of discomfort. You cried out helplessly, uncoordinated movements becoming sloppy and desperate, but the tears that spilled down your cheeks like tantalizing rivulets did nothing to interfere with her concentration. It was becoming equally too much and not enough, the game was becoming less fun, less enticing, but you wanted her, and you needed her, and you hoped that eventually, before your thoughts spiraled so deep into despair that only Wanda could pull you back up, that she would notice. 

Miraculously, she did. When your grinding slowed, and your sobs intensified, and you weren’t sure if you were trembling as a result of found pleasure or desperation for her, she reached down, corralling you into her lap with gentle movements and tender touches. Your sodden panties dragged along the thin material of her biker shorts, and with a mind of their own, your hips searched for relief against her, grinding and humping and wiggling so intensely that the chair rocked in time with your movements. Your face found peace in the shallowest pit of her neck, lips sucking marks onto her smooth skin, tears dampening strands of hair that had become trapped between your body and hers. 

“Such a good girl, I have. The best girl. The best puppy.” She cooed softly, her fingers holding tightly to your waist, guiding your movements with leisure, inching you closer and closer to an explosion of relief that would have you falling deep into a pit of paralyzing submission for hours. When her other hand, the one that had never been laid against your waist, dipped further down, gliding against your spine until it reached the swell of your ass, you realized just briefly that this had been the end goal the entire time. She wanted you pliable in her hands, she wanted you so desperate that despite your conflicting emotions you sought pleasure from her simple body. A sharp moan fell into the air when soft fingers pressed against the plug nestled between the globes of your ass. The plug, a heart shaped jewel the color of your favorite shade of pink, pressed into you firmly, not entirely dissimilar to how it had pressed into you when you sat flush against the floorboards, but there was an added spark now that her fingers were the one provoking such sensations. “No, you don’t get to cum. Just feel it, pretty puppy. Just enjoy how good Daddy’s making you feel.” She was quick to reaffirm that forbidden rule, and your tears were quick to start again, blubbering sobs and pleas falling off your lips and you ground your clothed core into hers, your clit catching on the waistband of her biker shorts each time she guided you higher. 

“My my, what’s going on in here?” Another voice, a softer voice, broke through the heavy fog restricting your mind from fully recognizing what’s happening around you. You hadn’t heard the front door close, hadn’t heard her heels clanking against the floorboards as she discarded her blazer in the living room and set her thermos of coffee down on the kitchen island, you hadn’t heard her kick off her stilettos by the stairs before she padded her way up to Natasha’s office. You hadn’t heard any of it, but you heard her now, and you reached for her with determination, your face flush and damp with tears that your Daddy was far too proud to have been the result of. 

“M-Mommy!” You sobbed weakly, sparks of pleasure still paralyzing you in place on Natasha’s lap, however with Wanda home now, with your Mommy present, you could only hope that relief would make its way to your pulsating clit quickly. She never could resist the sight of your tear stained face, even if Natasha found it delectable. Mommy was hard, she was firm and she was ruthless, but at the end of the day you were just her precious little baby eager for attention and she was more than happy to give you that. It was Daddy’s puppy that could endure the wrath of denial and endless teasing, but now, your brain lingered on the verge of two headspaces that clashed so violently it was as if two separate people resided within your desires and neither one was ready to relinquish control, and your overstimulated, underwhelmed body wasn’t quite sure where to settle in the aftermath of such an emotionally charged lead up to this moment. Everything was too much, but nothing was enough to state the desire burning holes into your judgment. Natasha had broken you. That had been the game all along, you were just too naive to realize until now. You’d played the part of a dumb puppy seamlessly, grinding on her shoe, on her lap, biting at her legs and at her neck… you’d been the perfect puppy for a few agonizing hours, but now you were ready to be Mommy’s baby; her spoiled little princess. 

“Oh no, Mommy’s not going to save you now, little minx. You look so pretty making a mess on your Daddy’s lap.” Wanda’s laugh was your favorite sound. It was sweet and twinged with innocence, despite the hardships that had befallen her in life, but as if fell over you now, as it crashed against your shorelines it was harsh and unforgiving, cold and threateningly eerie. A sob rippled through your chest, and pathetically your head fell against Natasha’s shoulders, your hips fumbling to an abrupt stop as you gave up. It was too much, it was all too much. You needed your Mommy, you wanted your Daddy, you didn’t want to be the one pushing toward an orgasmic explosion of relief. You wanted it done to you, wanted to be their pretty little toy that they used however they pleased, and yet they weren’t giving you that satisfaction. “You need help, is that what this is about? Mommy’s little baby can’t do it on her own?” 

You peeked out from Natasha’s shoulder, beautiful eyes that stole breath from healthy lungs glazed over so heavily that the gleam of moonlight slipping in through the curtains framing the window reflected off of them dazzlingly. You wanted your Mommy, and she had so cruelly refused to help you. A guttural sob slipped off your tongue, and defenselessly you surrendered to Natasha’s persistent touches, your hips twitching of their own volition when she pressed harshly against the base of the plug nestled deep within your puckered hole with addictive strawberry flavored lube. The tank top that clung to your torso was damp with sweat and tears, giving easy sight to your pebbled nipples that rubbed and brushed against Natasha’s chest teasingly. You’d been successfully undone, not a single coherent thought in your head, and yet it wasn’t enough for them, it would never be enough for them. 

“Come here, my darling girl. Let Mommy take a look at what’s bothering you.” Your cheeks, already so tenderly flush that they felt hot to the touch, became alight with nervous energy as you wiggled out of Natasha’s grip and reached out firmly for Wanda, not willing to take her rejection again. It never came, thankfully, and within seconds you were nestled against your Mommy’s chest, breathing in the comforting scent of her perfume and acrylic paints. She preferred oil, but she’d been working on one last canvas that had only felt right to be constructed with vibrant purples and oranges from her acrylic collection. It didn’t matter much to you. Wanda smelt like coming home after a strenuous day, and so intimately you snuggled closer, still sniffling and writhing for pleasure to consume you. 

Her footsteps were soft, practically inaudible as she padded across the wooden floorboards and brought you to the bedroom that hadn’t been seen since you’d come to find Natasha when sunlight was still painting the endless sky a hue of admirable baby blue. Your back met the soft bed sheets when Wanda threw you down, her touch lost for merely a few seconds before thumbs, stained from spilled paint, pried your thighs open, leaving your sodden panties on full display for her to enjoy. A shy whine rippled through your chest as you attempted to close your legs, but all that came of your weak protests was a curt tutt and a firmer hold. 

“My my, sweetheart. Your panties are awfully wet. Mommy can see your little clit just begging for attention right through them. I bet that feels so icky, huh?” She cooed tauntingly, her unmanicured finger falling between your open legs, her paint stained nail tracing the softest line across the expanse of your clothed pussy, merely smearing arousal across the already sodden fabric. A strangled whine caught in your dry throat, your desperate gleam not nearly enough to convince her to relieve you so early on. “Let me have a taste, hm? Let Mommy see what all the fuss is about.” 

Her words alone hadn’t been enough to prepare you for the sensation of a warm tongue flicking curiously against your hardened bud, a mixture of saliva and arousal further dampening your panties as Wanda leaned down to firmly taste your glistening core, her strangled moans of enjoyment sparking sensations deep in your belly that had your eyes fluttered closed and your hips grinding up to find more; more pressure, more stimulation, just more. It was over as soon as it had begun, and a whimpered protest fell into the air as you blindly reached down to grab fistfuls of neatly tamed waves, trying desperately to pull her face back down to where you needed her most. She was unrelenting, smiling down at you so sickeningly sweetly that you yearned to kick her away and roll over in a huff of frustration, but temptation got the better of you, and desperately you rolled your hips against thin air, hoping to seduce her into giving into your desires. 

“M-Mommy! It’s achey!” You babbled desperately, wiggling pathetically against the bedsheets that had seen many strenuous endeavors over the last few months. Just the thought of how many times you’d come apart beneath them on these beige gingham sheets left you desperate, and the thought of adding another orgasm to the collection of passed ones had you panting. 

“Oh, I’m sure it is achey, sweetheart. Your little pussy’s so needy, Mommy might just have to lock her up, huh? She gets you in so much trouble, always crying for attention, always desperate to be full. I think it’s time we teach her how to act, hm?” Wanda continued to coo, all while her fingers rub soft patterns and shapes into the soaked fabric of your pastel pink panties, though the damp patch had turned them a hue so vibrant there’s not a single paint in Wanda’s collection that could match it accurately. You shook your head adamantly at the idea, a sob clawing up your throat at her proposed suggestion, and she laughed. “It’s not up to you what Mommy does, little girl. You’ll just take it like a good girl, won’t you? You’ll let Mommy do whatever she wants to you?” 

You couldn’t help but nod, blubbering into your hands that had come to hide your face at some point between her lips on your clothed core and her fingers tracing minuscule details. You whined when she spread your legs further, painfully aware of how your clit throbbed and pulsated against the fabric of your panties, enough for her to take notice and flick her fingers against your sensitive bud in tune with its rhythmic beating. A open palm slap was the sensation that startled you, and a pathetic whimper filled the room as your eyes shot open and you witnessed Natasha standing beside Wanda, her eyes trained on your core, her palm glistening despite the barrier between your core and her hand. 

“How many can this slutty puppy take before she comes from a spanking alone?” Her words are directed at Wanda, her attention split between your dazzling girlfriend and your glimmering core. Not an ounce of attention falls on you, from either her nor the artist also filling the space between your open legs. It’s humiliating, entirely dehumanizing, but it fuels your arousal further, and pathetically you grind upwards, hoping to come in contact with her palm once more, even if the touch is harsh and unforgiving. “Looks like the dumb pet wants to find out.” 

The first spank is heavenly, a harsh blow aimed directly at your quivering opening that’s been void of stimulation all day, but the second is cruel, aimed straight at your unsuspecting clit that throbs and pulses in the aftermath of the blow and has you writhing from that intense mix of pain and pleasure. A strangled sob rips your throat apart, your eyes wide and pleading for relief do nothing to soften Natasha’s reserve, and again she strikes you between your legs, and again your core reacts before your brain can catch up to what’s happening. It’s by the sixth that you can feel it happening. Your legs are shaking, trembling, fighting to close but Wanda holds them open and leaves you vulnerable to the assault. Your chest is rising and falling so fast that your breath comes out in strained pants. Your eyes are shut, fingers holding fistfuls of bed sheets that do nothing to ease your panic. You’re close, so close, one last hit and you’re falling over the edge into bliss that’s been sought after for days. It doesn’t come. That’s exactly what you’d been dreading, the edging. The signs had been painted across Natasha’s face since she pulled you up into her lap and had reaffirmed that you weren’t allowed to cum, but now it’s fallen over top of you like a bucket of ice water and it’s too much. It’s too much and it’s not enough and you can’t control yourself when you sob and kick at them, wriggling around like bed like the plush sheets beneath your hands will be any comfort. 

“Please please please please! No Daddy! No! No no no! Please! Please! P-Please! Been good! I-I’ve been good! Been a good girl! Pl-Please!” Your words are a barely coherent jumble of sobs, and you’re faintly aware of Wanda attempting to coax you back into place, but all that dwells on you is the constant denial of relief, of attention, of affection. It’s too much, and you’re so desperate, and you’ve been so good, and you know that you’ve been good. Why isn’t that enough? Why can’t it be enough? “Wanna cum! Please! Please Mommy! Please! Please I was good! I sat with Daddy and-and I kept the plug in and I-I was good! Mommy I was good! Please! No more teasing! No more! Please! I can’t! I can’t-”

You’re faintly aware of the bed dipping beneath the presence of another body, but only when Natasha’s firm hands cup your cheeks do you realize that she’s cuddled up beside you and her hands are tenderly brushing away rivulets of perspiration and tears from your face. She kisses you sweetly, slowly, savoring the sight of you so undone from their simple touches, but there’s an etch of concern entangled with her captivating features, enough to tell you that it’s ending, it’s finally ending. 

“Do you need to safeword?” She asks tenderly, brushing strands of unruly hair away from your damp face. There’s no sight of disappointment, of underlying anger, just genuine care and concern, which has been all you wanted for hours. 

You shake your frantically, soft cries slipping into the silence once again. The thought of losing them after enduring so much just to get that blissful reward of an orgasm has you scrambling to make sense of your feelings, but they’ve jumbled your brain, fried your independence. You’re at their mercy until you regain their bearings, all you can manage is a soft, frantically whispered. “J-Just want you. P-Please! I’ve been good!” 

“You’ve been so good, malyshka. So so good. My best girl. Let Mommy help you now, hm? Let her make all the aches go away.” Natasha speaks to you tenderly, resigning from her role as cruel daddy for the night, content to simply lay by your side, a reassuring presence as you prepare to submit to your Mommy. 

Wanda works your panties off softly, caressing your thighs as she brushes against them, taking in the sight of your cunt, bare of coarse hair and blemishes, looking absolutely delectable as it glimmers beneath soft ambient lighting and undiluted moonlight. Nobody had thought to turn the lights on when they entered, but the soft night light in the corner of the room provided more than necessary as she lowered her lips to your clit and didn’t hold back. 

The first suckle at your overstimulated bud was euphoric, and your back arched high off the mattress as you scrambled to twist your fingers into her hair, desperate to keep her close to your core though she wouldn’t have pulled away regardless of your persistence. She laps at you with intensity, using her paint stained fingers to hold your lower lips apart and dig right into her meal without care for how harsh or animalistic she appears, her nose bumps your clit as her lips moved south, her tongue poking into your weeping entrance and attempting to drink the arousal that had pooled there after hours of being trapped beneath thin panties. When her fingers slip into you, two to be exact, you can’t control your whines and moans, and so profusely you beg for permission to fall off the edge of the cliff and drown yourself in orgasmic bliss that rivals the chill of ocean waves in summertime. 

“Go ahead. Let go, baby girl. Make a mess on Mommy’s fingers. You can cum, it’s okay. You can let go now. You did such a good job, such a good job, my angel.” Natasha whispers into the darkness of the bedroom, her lips flush against your temple as she works you up more, her fingers pulling and twisting at your nipples still hidden beneath a sweat drenched tank-top. You feel disgusting, sticky and slick with sweat and tears, but it’s not enough to pull you away from this moment, and when her hand, the one that hadn’t been permanently glued to your breasts, found your throat, nor squeezing but applying just enough pressure that it reaffirmed her gentle dominance over you, you gave into the orgasm that had been begging to be unleashed. 

You didn’t have time to come down from that first high before Wanda was doubling her efforts between your legs, her fingers jackhammering into your entrance as her tongue traced circles and flicked at your once deprived bud of nerves. You shrieked, whining so petulantly that Natasha cooed sweetly against your temple and continued her gentle movements against your tits, pulling your tank top up just enough to reveal them to the cool breeze that swept through the room, accompanied by the low thrum of the air conditioner. 

“No more! N-no more!” You attempted to squirm away from the undeniable pleasure Wanda was provoking, but to no avail did you succeed, weakened from hours of crying and arousal. Natasha remained by your side as Wanda scratched at your thigh and hips with the fingers that weren’t knuckles deep inside of your cunt, leaving faint pink marks in the wake of her grip and touch. 

“You wanted to cum, puppy. You wanted Mommy to make you cum, so now you’re going to take it, okay? Can you do that?” Natasha hummed softly, kissing you again, an easy method of distracting you though you didn’t protest, eagerly reciprocating the kiss and assuring that her own world was painted in vibrant colors for the few seconds that she allowed your tongue to tangle with hers. “Good girl. My good girl. You’re doing so well. So well for Mommy.” She coaxed you through the second orgasm that tore through your belly at an accelerated pace, just barely able to contain her surprise as your core released an onslaught of juices aimed straight at Wanda’s face. A cry of humiliation left you, but it was soothed quickly by the woman between your legs, her tongue soothing the ache in your clit before it was gone entirely. 

“Shh, we’re all done. All done.” Wanda’s mouth shone brightly beneath the moonlight with your arousal, her chin dripping as she leaned above you, offering her fingers which you eagerly took into her mouth. The taste of your core was prominent, familiar as you’d been in this position a few hundred times over, but it brought peace to your hazy mind and you melted firmly into Natasha now. “You did so good for me, my little princess. So so good. Mommy’s so proud of you.” She kissed you softly, replacing her fingers with her tongue that tasted so prominently of your orgasm and arousal that you couldn’t help the whine of submission that filled the air. 

“What can I get you, princess? How about some goldfish because I’m sure Natasha didn’t take a break for lunch like I told her to.” Wanda sent a pointed glare at Natasha, who bashfully shrunk into herself and shrugged half-heartedly. Lunch had most definitely slipped her mind, and she cursed beneath her breath when she realized you’d put up a fit if she tried to drag you downstairs for dinner. 

“Mommy stay.” You whined, attempting to reach out and pull Wanda down onto your body, but Natasha had already seen that coming, and had tangled her fingers with yours. 

“Mommy will be back so soon, pretty baby. She’s going to get you some fishies and a water, and she’s going to grab your favorite blanket from downstairs, and Daddy’s gonna wipe you down and get you dressed in some comfy pajamas. How does that sound?” Natasha easily directed Wanda to gather all of the things you’d undoubtably ask for in a few minutes when the haze of your submission lessened and your tired muscles became apparent. The Sokovian didn’t linger, instead she jumped straight into action, leaving one last kiss against your lips before she disappeared downstairs, hoping you had enough energy to get at least a couple of crackers into your body before you fell asleep. 

You only agreed because you hadn’t really had a choice to begin with, but still Natasha worked with your fussy attitude and got you wiped down with a damp washcloth and redressed in pajamas that were really just stolen pieces of her and Wanda’s casual attire. When the Sokovian returned, your favorite cup in her hands filled to the brim with room temperature water, you were cuddled into Natasha’s chest, biting softly at her fingertips as she attempted to keep you awake, some animated movie playing on the tv screen above the dresser on the wall opposite the large bed you occupied. She smiled softly, throwing a protein bar at Natasha’s head, before she took you into her arms, cuddling you into her chest, wrapping you tightly in your favorite throw blanket. 

You nuzzled into her chest, begrudgingly taking a sip of water when she held the straw up to your lips persistently. It soothed your scratchy throat instantaneously, subsequently allowing your previous hours of screaming and moaning to become a distant memory until tomorrow morning when you woke without a voice. The goldfish she did not get so lucky with, offering a small handful to you as you zoned into the sound of her heath beating rhythmically beneath your ear and focused on the kaleidoscope of colors morphing across the tv screen. You whined, wiggling away from her hand rather fussily, and she knew better than to agitate you farther, so rather than keep persisting, she ate them herself and pulled you in closer, her heart and soft whispering to Natasha lulling you to sleep in minutes. 

“You really have to stop forgetting to eat lunch.” Wanda sighed amusedly, bringing up the age-old concern that had a near prominent spot in their conversation log. Natasa laughed sheepishly, one hand falling onto the small of your back as you turned further into Wanda’s chest, while the other reached to turn off the obnoxious film you strangely adored. 

“It’s not my fault when this one decides to camp out beneath my desk.” She weakly defended, laying a tender kiss to the back of your head, your hair smelling faintly of the shampoo she kept in the upstairs shower. 

“Oh sure, blame her because she’s not awake to defend herself.” Wanda retorted, rolling her eyes in exasperated fondness as she tangled her fingers into your still disheveled hair, hoping that when morning rolled around, you’d still be soft enough to request that she did your hair before she left for the gallery. 

Natasha paused, a wrinkle of affection twinging her expression before she leaned forward and embraced Wanda in a tender kiss above your head. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” Wanda hummed against her lips, letting her eyes flutter closed as she took in the simplicity of this moment with the both of you.

[kokokoula]

you fall first, but he falls harder

a/n: i can only write fluff, so please trust me that it's fluff. there's like, one usage of 'she', timeskip spoilers, and a bit of language. it's my longest fic yet (which isn't saying much), no beta we die like daichi

you don't know that tsukishima kei knows about your crush on him. it's so damn obvious, how you turn red so easily when he's around. unfortunately for you, though, he doesn't reciprocate, nor does he bother confronting you about it. you are his closest friend other than yamaguchi, and as much as he hates to admit it, he doesn't want to lose you as one. it's so tedious, anyways.

---

"it's our last year in karasuno, do you have anything planned?" you ask as you lay on the floor of tsukishima's room. you're supposed to be studying, since it was what you came over to do with kei and tadashi, but you gave up somewhere halfway in geography.

"it is my last year, but who knows about you? you've been slacking so much, you'd probably have to repeat a year. and could you get up?" he sighs and nudges your side with his foot.

"asshole," you mutter, cheeks growing red. if you know that he just dodged your question, you don't do anything about it. "just you wait, i'll enroll into kyoto university and make you eat your words, beanpole."

"sure." his reply drips with sarcasm, but he doesn't doubt that you can make it far. there's a knock at the door.

"sorry for being late!"

"tadashi!!"

---

kei knows you can read him like an open book. you can tell he's having a bad day just by a conversation with him through text. he also knows that when he says that he doesn't want to talk, you immediately ring his phone.

the first time it happened, he had tried to decline your calls, or just ignore them entirely, but you're insistent. eventually he picked up, filled with pure irritation at that point.

"could you--"

"i'm heading over. i promise i won't push for any details. i'll even get strawberry shortcake on the way." you immediately stated. he paused to mull it over.

"fine, but if the cake sucks, i'm kicking you out." it's safe to say that the cake was good enough to make this a habit, so much so that tsukshima doesn't even know why you still call him to let him know you're coming over. the both of you know you will no matter what.

so here you are, sitting on his bedroom floor with him and eating desserts in silence, save for the music playing softly from his computer.

"you're gonna get in trouble with your parents when they realise you snuck out." he remarks. you shrug your shoulders, stuffing the remaining taiyaki in your mouth.

"i know."

"don't talk with your mouth full." you roll your eyes with a furious blush. somehow, you being here with him becomes sweeter than the strawberry shortcake.

---

you were there when tsukishima made the decision to go professional with volleyball.

his last match as karasuno's middle blocker had ended. his body was sore all over, but somehow the freak duo managed to convince him and yamaguchi to play one more match back at school, just the four of them with yachi. but even with landing third in nationals and a final intimate match with his teammates, he still somehow felt so unsatisfied.

the walk home with you was silent. he was grateful you didn't say anything. he couldn't handle any more questions about how he was feeling when he himself was unsure. it was when you two stepped outside the convenience store after getting ice cream did he come to the conclusion that he never wants to have a last match.

"i'm not going to give up on volleyball after graduation." he announced out of the blue. you were caught off guard for a bit, before grinning at him. "i expected that."

"why?"

"you call hinata and kageyama freaks for being so insane about volleyball, but you don't even realise that you're just as equally crazy about it as them." you said it so nonchalantly as you eat your ice cream, like you're stating a fact. now it was his turn to be taken off guard. he took a while to let it settle in before chuckling softly.

he should have known that you know him better than he does himself.

---

it's graduation day. tsukishima and kageyama are stuck with their four teary-eyed friends by their side. kei awkwardly pats your head, not knowing how to comfort you. you laugh at his feeble attempt, your rosy cheeks burning red. have you always been this cute? in the midst of all the bittersweet interactions, you get distracted by something on your phone, and let out a gasp.

"what is it, (name)?" yamaguchi asks. you're trembling slightly, and tsukishima grows worried.

"i, uh, got into kyoto university," you say in disbelief. "i actually got in!" everyone congratulates you, but you only care about one thing.

"tsukki, remember that day i told you i'd make you eat your words?" he hums in acknowledgement. you shove the acceptance email in his face, but he can only focus on how proud you look with that shit-eating smirk. "what do you have to say now, beanpole?"

he smiles. that's my best friend right there.

"nothing."

---

you were gone before the new year, and kei was handling your absence well until semester started. he had believed it'd be fine, you were only across the country, not across the world. plus, you promised you would call as often as you could.

but he doesn't sees you in his classes anymore, and you don't come over when he's having a bad day. he got himself strawberry shortcake to lighten his mood like it usually does, but he only feels hollow. it doesn't help that since he's going pro, his volleyball training is almost everyday now, and with your commitments, he rarely gets to call you anymore. it hurts like hell inside.

"hey tsukki, you've been off recently. is everything ok?" tadashi calls him one day.

"i'm fine, yamaguchi." kei lies. tadashi isn't convinced.

"does it have something to do with (name) being in kyoto?"

"why would you say that?" he answered too quickly for his liking.

"well, you bring (name) up quite a bit, and when you realise she isn't there, you get all quiet and snappy." tsukishima is about to retort back, but then it hits him.

oh shit, he's in love.

---

the day you finally return back to miyagi to visit, tsukishima waits at the station with yamaguchi. kei's eyes are constantly searching the crowd and flickering to his watch every so often.

"tsukki, relax, she'll be here soon." he ignores tadashi's reassurance.

tsukishima kei is a composed man, always able to think before he acts. but when he catches sight of you, he runs. before you can register anything, he hugs you, gripping onto you like a lifeline, like he will die if he lets go of you.

"tsukki--"

"gosh, i missed you so much, you idiot." he knows you could have easily lost feelings for him when you were away.

"wha--"

"i've suffered so much because of your stupid, dumb ass." he doesn't care.

"wait--"

"i like you, so go out with me before you have to head back to kyoto." you're back, and he's scared to lose you again. every second you stay quiet, the louder his heart beats in his ears.

"really?" you finally say, your voice barely over a whisper.

"yea." another pause.

"guess i'm yours then, beanpole."

bonus:

"you know, i knew about your crush back in high school."

"what the heck?"

"you didn't necessarily hide it well."

"then i'll have you know that yamaguchi told me everything that had happened when i've been gone."

"...fuck."

[byunpum]

Mama's boy

Pair: Jake x neytiri x human reader (trio couple) x sully children's

Warning: none, lo'ak being a sweet little potato for is mama. Sweet family moment.

Request: (anon) You were incredible in these new chapters, if it wasn't much, I would have been able to do a trisal story about Jake, neitiry and reader human where she has 2 more hybrid children (half human,Half na'vi)..

Note: I have always believed that avatars may be able to reproduce with humans. Both males and females. Since there are human traits in their DNA. So both jake and his children could reproduce with any human. That is my theory.

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6(final)

You loved days like this, it was a fresh and calm day in the jungle of Pandora. No one in the family had anything important to do. Just relax and spend time together. If anyone had told you that in a few years you were going to be sitting quietly on the floor of your home. With your son on your lap, while playing with one of his toys. With such loving partners, you wouldn't have believed them. And you had a good point for not believing. Neytiri and Jake were your mates, while you were human. The only human who was mated to two na'vi. The only human who had given birth to a na'vi baby, naturally.

Lo'ak had been born as a na'vi. With his distinctive braid, tail, skin color, ears etc. Just like his father, jake. But his human features were always there, he inherited your hands, some facial features that made him different from his siblings. Like kiri, they were a mixture of human and na'vi. This was not important to you, in your family these differences were not important and everyone was treated equally.

Neytiri was running around in circles playing with kiri, while neteyam was playing with jake. Meanwhile lo'ak was sitting very comfortably on your lap. Sucking his little finger, while you cuddled him. He was very peaceful, well…when he was with you. The bond that lo'ak had with you was very strong, he needed his mommy with him all the time. Neteyam and kiri were more active, while lo'ak preferred to be by your side. You tried to keep him away from you, so that he would become more independent. But it was all in vain, even mo'at herself told you that this was normal. That eventually he would become more independent, but he was already 5 years old, and he didn't seem to improve. Of course, this never bothered you… lo'ak became your own tail. Always behind you. Lo'ak could be with neytiri, about 3 to 5 hours. But then he would cry for you to hold him, and it was the same with jake. Lo'ak just wanted to be with you.

Neteyam ran to you, hugging you. The boy was about your size, but you didn't care. Hugging him back, to give him lots of kisses on his cheeks. Neteyam didn't notice but pushed lo'ak off your lap, causing the boy to fall to the ground. "mama… I want to be with you" says neteyam, now sitting where lo'ak once was. Lo'ak immediately began to cry. It was a very big and exaggerated whine. "Calm love…neteyam needs to be with me too" you try to calm him down, but you could barely touch him. Because neteyam was curled up on your chest. Neytiri comes closer, taking lo'ak in her arms to calm him down.

After a long six minutes, lo'ak calms down. But you can see how the child looks down from above, on Neytiri's shoulder. His eyes were watery and he was pouting. You try to ignore him, he has to learn that you were not only from him. Neteyam was also your son, as was Kiri. And they too demanded your attention. Kiri approaches his younger brother, hopping from neytiri's feet. "You're a mama's boy… an ugly, crying baby," Kiri says jokingly. Neytiri scolds her, while you and jake couldn't hold in the laughter. It was funny, but you take Kiri by the arm. Sitting her down next to you.

"Kiri…that's not right, lo'ak is special. He needs a lot of love" says neytiri holding the child in her arms, hoping he doesn't start crying. "No…mama is mine!!!!" says neteyam, hugging your neck more. Lo'ak whimpers, lifting his head from neytiri's shoulder. "Noooo mama is mine" shouts lo'ak.

"No!!!, only mine!!!" neteyam yells back, sticking out his tongue. This makes lo'ak upset, and he starts to cry. "nooo mama!!!! Let go of neteyam!!!!! Mama let go of me, I want to go on the floor" lo'ak is crying, while neytiri giggles a little. It's adorable to watch as the two children fight for your attention. Jake gets up from the floor, walking to your direction and taking neteyam from your lap. To now lay him down on the floor. Kneeling on the floor to carry you in his arms, bridal style. You laugh, as the children begin to whine.

"Technically, your mom is all mine" jake says, sticking his tongue out at his kids, reaching over to give you a kiss on your forehead. Watching as they start to whine. Neytiri was giggling, while now all the kids wanted her to carry them to keep up with jake. "Well…I'd say I'm more Neytiri's than yours" you say, reaching up to give him a kiss on the tip of his nose. (Y/N is wearing the oxygen mask I'm always mentioning, "click here" to learn more about it) Neytiti lets out a loud laugh, you could see her cheeks turn purple. Neytiri had a soft spot for you. Jake lets out a sigh of surrender and hugs you tighter. Leaving kisses on your neck, while you laugh.

In the evening, everyone was settled in their respective hammocks. You were finishing getting Kiri settled, while Jake put the boys to bed. After a while, you lay down in your own hammock, you were tired. You were about to go to sleep, when you feel little hands touching your arm. You open your eyes, finding lo'ak's little face. The child had his arms outstretched for you to carry him. Laughing a little, you hold the child. And settle him on your chest. Snuggling him with your arms, giving him lots of kisses on the crown of his head. "My beautiful baby…you are sad" you lullaby to lo'ak. He only responds with a "hmmm" and falls asleep in your arms.

Jake comes up to you one last time, to check that all was well. As he approaches, he notices how you and lo'ak were cuddling. "I imagined he was with you," Jake said softly. Leaning in to give you a kiss on the tip of your nose. "Well… you know what he's like" you joke. "He's a mama's boy…a cute mama's boy. You know…" jake pauses, thinking about how he was going to say what he was going to say next. "Eventually you'll have to let him grow up…kids his age are more independent and " jake is interrupted, when one of your hands goes to his mouth. "Shhh shut up…when it's time, he'll grow up on his own…in the meantime we'll be here for him." you speak, slapping jake's arm playfully. There was a small silence, until you see a playful smile on Jake's lips.

"Babe…why don't you leave lo'ak here quietly and come sleep with me and neytiri" jake takes your hand and gives it a kiss on the palm, causing you to giggle and blush. "Together…the three of us" jake jokes biting your fingers. You laugh softly, trying not to wake lo'ak. You think about it for a moment, and the truth is you missed sleeping with jake and neytiri. Lo'ak consumed too much of your time, so you accept Jake's offer. You carefully settled lo'ak down, making sure he was comfortable.

Jake was behind you, excited. You could hear his tail bump between his legs. He held your hand, walking quickly to the hammock that you and Jake and Neytiri usually shared. Neytiri watches as you and Jake approach. She gets excited, it had been about 3 months since you last slept with them. Reaching out her hand, she takes yours. You climb in easily, feeling Jake hold you around the waist. Both of you settling into the hammock. You were in the middle of them, neytiri hugged you. While Jake hugs you from behind, burying his head in the back of your neck. "I missed this," says neytiri, enjoying the comfort. A couple of minutes later, lo'ak's crying began to be heard. You lift your head from neytiri's chest, beginning to stand up. When you feel her hug you tighter. "No… Y/N you must let him calm down himself" neytiri says. "Y/N, neytiri is right" jake speaks.

"He ate, he's clean and he's comfortable. He can be alone" says neytiri, she was serious. You knew you had to leave him alone, but lo'ak was your baby. Your only baby. "If he doesn't stop crying in five minutes, I'll go check on him. You stay here and rest," Jake speaks, kissing your shoulder. Your partner had you in his arms, if it wasn't for that you'd be at lo'ak's side by now. And as if by magic, lo'ak stopped crying. Jake got out of the hammock and checked from afar. Seeing how the child had already fallen asleep.

"See…it's all right," says Neytiri, hugging you even tighter. You snuggle closer to her. As you feel jake settle in behind you. Hugging you both. This parenting thing was all new to all of you.

[illycanary]

Katara's Story Is A Tragedy and It's Not An Accident

I was a teenaged girl when Avatar: The Last Airbender aired on Nickelodeon—the group that the show’s creators unintentionally hit while they were aiming for the younger, maler demographic. Nevermind that we’re the reason the show’s popularity caught fire and has endured for two decades; we weren’t the audience Mike and Bryan wanted. And by golly, were they going to make sure we knew it. They’ve been making sure we know it with every snide comment and addendum they’ve made to the story for the last twenty years.

For many of us girls who were raised in the nineties and aughts, Katara was a breath of fresh air—a rare opportunity in a media market saturated with boys having grand adventures to see a young woman having her own adventure and expressing the same fears and frustrations we were often made to feel. 

We were told that we could be anything we wanted to be. That we were strong and smart and brimming with potential. That we were just as capable as the boys. That we were our brothers’ equals. But we were also told to wash dishes and fold laundry and tidy around the house while our brothers played outside. We were ignored when our male classmates picked teams for kickball and told to go play with the girls on the swings—the same girls we were taught to deride if we wanted to be taken seriously. We were lectured for the same immaturity that was expected of boys our age and older, and we were told to do better while also being told, “Boys will be boys.” Despite all the platitudes about equality and power, we saw our mothers straining under the weight of carrying both full-time careers and unequally divided family responsibilities. We sensed that we were being groomed for the same future. 

And we saw ourselves in Katara. 

Katara begins as a parentified teenaged girl: forced to take on responsibility for the daily care of people around her—including male figures who are capable of looking after themselves but are allowed to be immature enough to foist such labor onto her. She does thankless work for people who take her contributions for granted. She’s belittled by people who love her, but don’t understand her. She’s isolated from the world and denied opportunities to improve her talents. She's told what emotions she's allowed to feel and when to feel them. In essence, she was living our real-world fear: being trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood. 

Then we watched Katara go through an incredible journey of self-determination and empowerment. Katara goes from being a powerless, fearful victim to being a protector, healer, advocate, and liberator to others who can’t do those things for themselves (a much truer and more fulfilling definition of nurturing and motherhood). It’s necessary in Katara’s growth cycle that she does this for others first because that is the realm she knows. She is given increasingly significant opportunities to speak up and fight on behalf of others, and that allows her to build those advocacy muscles gradually. But she still holds back her own emotional pain because everyone that she attempts to express such things to proves they either don't want to deal with it or they only want to manipulate her feelings for their own purposes. 

Katara continues to do much of the work we think of as traditionally maternal on behalf of her friends and family over the course of the story, but we do see that scale gradually shift. Sokka takes on more responsibility for managing the group’s supplies, and everyone helps around camp, but Katara continues to be the manager of everyone else’s emotions while simultaneously punching down her own. The scales finally seem to tip when Zuko joins the group. With Zuko, we see someone working alongside Katara doing the same tasks she is doing around camp for the first time. Zuko is also the only person who never expects anything of her and whose emotions she never has to manage because he’s actually more emotionally stable and mature than she is by that point. And then, Katara’s arc culminates in her finally getting the chance to fully seize her power, rewrite the story of the traumatic event that cast her into the role of parentified child, be her own protector, and freely express everything she’s kept locked away for the sake of letting everyone else feel comfortable around her. Then she fights alongside an equal partner she knows she can trust and depend on through the story's climax. And for the first time since her mother’s death, the girl who gives and gives and gives while getting nothing back watches someone sacrifice everything for her. But this time, she’s able to change the ending because her power is fully realized. The cycle was officially broken.

Katara’s character arc was catharsis at every step. If Katara could break the mold and recreate the ideas of womanhood and motherhood in her own image, so could we. We could be powerful. We could care for ourselves AND others when they need us—instead of caring for everyone all the time at our own expense. We could have balanced partnerships with give and take going both ways (“Tui and La, push and pull”), rather than the, “I give, they take,” model we were conditioned to expect. We could fight for and determine our own destiny—after all, wasn’t destiny a core theme of the story?

Yes. Destiny was the theme. But the lesson was that Katara didn’t get to determine hers. 

After Katara achieves her victory and completes her arc, the narrative steps in and smacks her back down to where she started. For reasons that are never explained or justified, Katara rewards the hero by giving into his romantic advances even though he has invalidated her emotions, violated her boundaries, lashed out at her for slights against him she never committed, idealized a false idol of her then browbeat her when she deviated from his narrative, and forced her to carry his emotions and put herself in danger when he willingly fails to control himself—even though he never apologizes, never learns his lesson, and never shows any inclination to do better. 

And do better he does not.

The more we dared to voice our own opinions on a character that was clearly meant to represent us, the more Mike and Bryan punished Katara for it.

Throughout the comics, Katara makes herself smaller and smaller and forfeits all rights to personal actualization and satisfaction in her relationship. She punches her feelings down when her partner neglects her and cries alone as he shows more affection and concern for literally every other girl’s feelings than hers. She becomes cowed by his outbursts and threats of violence. Instead of rising with the moon or resting in the warmth of the sun, she learns to stay in his shadow. She gives up her silly childish dreams of rebuilding her own dying culture’s traditions and advocating for other oppressed groups so that she can fulfill his wishes to rebuild his culture instead—by being his babymaker. Katara gave up everything she cared about and everything she fought to become for the whims of a man-child who never saw her as a person, only a possession.

Then, in her old age, we get to watch the fallout of his neglect—both toward her and her children who did not meet his expectations. By that point, the girl who would never turn her back on anyone who needed her was too far gone to even advocate for her own children in her own home. And even after he’s gone, Katara never dares to define herself again. She remains, for the next twenty-plus years of her life, nothing more than her husband's grieving widow. She was never recognized for her accomplishments, the battles she won, or the people she liberated. Even her own children and grandchildren have all but forgotten her. She ends her story exactly where it began: trapped in someone else’s narrow, stultifying definition of femininity and motherhood.

The story’s theme was destiny, remember? But this story’s target audience was little boys. Zuko gets to determine his own destiny as long as he works hard and earns it. Aang gets his destiny no matter what he does or doesn’t do to earn it. And Katara cannot change the destiny she was assigned by gender at birth, no matter how hard she fights for it or how many times over she earns it. 

Katara is Winston Smith, and the year is 1984. It doesn’t matter how hard you fight or what you accomplish, little girl. Big Brother is too big, too strong, and too powerful. You will never escape. You will never be free. Your victories are meaningless. So stay in your place, do what you’re told, and cry quietly so your tears don’t bother people who matter.

I will never get over it. Because I am Katara. And so are my friends, sisters, daughters, and nieces. But I am not content to live in Bryke's world.

I will never turn my back on people who need me. Including me.

[ceesimz]

Her Perfect Delusion

She's carefully curated the perfect lie, and you're at the centre of it.

There’s one thing about life that you don’t quite understand; how fast you can go from loving someone to hating them.

Those two things are a phenomenon that have coexisted together since the start of humankind, though it’s a hard thing for most people to accept. They’re arguably the two strongest feelings, there’s no choice in experiencing them, they come when they’re least wanted. What are you supposed to do when they occur at the same time?

When you first read that text message, the one that kept you up at night and has done for two weeks, it was as if you were the rope in an endless game of tug-of-war, being pulled back and forth relentlessly by an angel and a devil, by the resentment and longing that fought it out in your mind, each pulling with an equally unbearable amount of force. It prevented you from deciphering your true feelings, only making the whole situation a hundred times worse. 

You hated her, with every fibre of your being, yet you couldn’t shake that godforsaken, overwhelming, self-sacrificial pit of love that refused to leave your heart. Your own organs, both your heart and your mind, were entranced by her, betraying your own common sense to despise her and forget her. 

We can’t tell the team yet. I will pick you up tomorrow morning and we will carry on as normal.

That was it. No other explanation, no clarification, no mercy. 

It came mere minutes after she walked out of your apartment when she had broken up with you. Apparently she had the guts to end your year-long relationship in a heartbeat, but was too much of a coward to give you any say in person about telling your friends. 

And you followed her instructions wordlessly.

How could you ignore her, forget her, hate her, love her, when even after she had broken up with you, she forced herself into your life with no care in the world? 

Part of you thought something was wrong with her, because for a while now, you hadn’t recognised her as the woman you loved. Her breaking up with you just solidified that – she was completely unrecognisable. The sympathetic, caring side of you which she once adored, it craved to wrap her up in your arms, lead her back to bed, and talk for hours as the sun set and subsequently rose until you figured out what was going on inside her mind. Before you got together, you spent far too long trying to unlock that side of her. Maybe you never truly saw it in the first place.

You refused to leave the club, even though staying would mean seeing her almost everyday. Alexia might be Barça, but it was your club too. Your family too. Whether you were overstaying your welcome or not, you weren’t about to let a failed attempt to build a life with someone else stop you from keeping a life for yourself. Barcelona was home. Alexia had been too, you weren’t about to lose two at once.

If you told people, you would be alone. It was Alexia’s club before you joined. Your friends were her friends before she introduced you. Barcelona was Alexia’s home before it was yours. There wasn’t a part of you that doubted she’d turn the whole of Catalunya on you if everybody knew the true state of your relationship.

So the morning after that text, you clambered into her car, a suffocating, thick silence seated in the car with you both, and that was that. Weeks passed before you without even realising it. The hate wore off and the love only got stronger.

Every morning for training, she picked you up, you walked in together, feigned smiles on your faces that physically hurt deep in your chest. With Alexia, you had given her thousands, if not millions, of genuine, joy-filled smiles. All you were left with was tear-filled eyes instead, drowning in the love lingering, blinking them away near enough every second you spent with her. 

It took far too much force to withhold the smile, though it soon became second nature. You got a routine down with her, and you were so focused on keeping up the act, you trained on auto-pilot. The scaffolding it required to pin the smile to your face was heavy, and it was like one strong gust of wind, one act of affection that brought back a whirl of memories, whether that be an arm around your shoulders or a kiss to your cheek, was all it would take to knock the bars out and let it all come crumbling down. Perhaps that would be for the best.

Just a shame you were in too deep to realise that.

“You guys want to come over for dinner tonight?” Irene asked from Alexia’s left. You were on the captain’s right, hands swinging between you. It was the image of happiness, of how soft your love had once been, though that was merely a figment of the past. A piece of your heart you’ll never get back, a piece Alexia held onto and flaunted in your face with how she held onto your hand, and you simply let her.

“We have plans already, no?” Alexia turned to you, a look in her eyes that had you agreeing easily. You didn’t have the strength to verbalise your willingness to fall at Alexia’s feet once more, so you settled for a nod.

��Ah, a shame. Another time.” Irene smiled, a genuine one that you envied. 

God, how pathetic. To envy someone over a smile.

“Por supuesto.” Alexia confirmed, waving at her friend as she made her way to her own car. 

Like always, you put your bag in the trunk of her car, and climbed into the passenger side. As you did everyday, with no complaints. Why didn’t you complain? Is that really how weak you are?

“What are you doing on Saturday?” Alexia asked you this time, her lips in a thin line as she reversed out of the parking space. Her voice was cold, stern, distant, completely devoid of the gentleness she once addressed you with. She almost didn’t sound like Alexia. 

“Um, nothing I think, I don’t h-”

“Good. You will come to dinner with me and my family.” 

It was a demand, not a question, not an invite. The shy, heart-warming excitement she spoke with when she asked you to join her family for dinner for the first time didn’t even feel like something that had once happened anymore. It was such a contrast from that treasured memory, you had to cover your mouth to stop the sob that wanted to suddenly escape.

However, that heartbreak of a reminder wasn't even the main thing on the forefront of your mind at that moment. Instead, all you could focus on was the fact she hadn’t told her family yet. This wasn't part of this fucked up ordeal.

There was no way, in good conscience, that you could look her mother in the eye and lie to her. 

“You haven’t told your family about us?” You said in an insecure voice, chancing it and looking over at her. There was no need; she wore the same expression she had adorned since the breakup, one of stoicism and carelessness. One that exuded control, one which relished in that fact.

“Do not start. Do not pick a fight right now.” Was all she replied, and if there were ever two statements to sum up the state of your relationship, it was those. 

Her hands clutched the steering wheel tighter, her nostrils flared in frustration with her lips pursed into a thin line, meanwhile you cowered into your seat like a scolded child. Throughout this whole situation, each day Alexia had slowly beaten down your confidence, a piece of your self-esteem cracking and falling away with every word that she spoke. You were losing yourself in the process, and having already lost the other half of your soul in your break-up, you didn’t know if you would survive any longer. 

There had been one fight so far, but Alexia refused to let it happen again. Any time you showed the slightest bit of disagreement, she’d say something that would silence you in an instant. You knew it was unfair, and toxic. You didn’t do anything about it though. Of course you didn't.

“I’ll pick you up at eight. It’s at my Mami’s house. You will not say a word about us, you understand?” She pressed sternly, glancing away from the road for a second to give you a piercing glare. It only provoked that pit of nausea that cruelly reminded you of your current position every time it made an appearance. 

“I understand.” You whispered in a voice that Alexia knew too well; there was a lump in your throat that you had to fight past to speak.

This time, when she turned to look at you, you swore you saw a hint of regret in her eyes. Before you could get your hopes up though, she was focused on the road in front of her again, brows furrowed and her usual frown on her face. 

You got a physical break from her the next day, but not a mental one. A two day respite had been given to the team, the Friday and the Saturday, and you loathed them. You cursed yourself for that, because why could you find issue with time off but not the vicious cycle you found yourself in? 

Every second of that Friday was spent in bed, submerged by a blanket that faintly smelled like her, in your bedroom that was still decorated as if someone loved you, with pictures all around and traces of small details which only existed as a result of being wholly adored, like you once had been. They were glimpses of the past, evidence of the affection you had a taste of, yet had been pulled away just as the disbelief began to wear off.

Even a year down the line, you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. From the moment you met her, the moment she asked you out on a date with her voice trembling and her hands fidgeting, you were in a near constant state of disbelief. Never in your life did you picture yourself in such an idyllic relationship, with a woman not even your wildest dreams could have imagined. Maybe you were right to cling onto your insecurities, because in the end it did turn out to be too good to be true.

As a matter of fact, it had been your heart that was dropped, shattering into fragments too small to be fixed back together. Instead, you were shoved to the side and thrown to the floor like a child that lost interest in a toy. Even still, Alexia didn’t have the same emotional maturity that a child had to give you your space to grieve, choosing to parade you around on her arm like the pain she’d caused was the greatest achievement of her life. 

You didn’t move, get up, talk to anyone, nothing. Those tasks felt too big to approach, you felt too small, too undeserving. So you subjected yourself to thirty-six hours of nothing but overthinking. What else was there for you to do? You had nothing else going for you except your broken relationship, there wasn’t exactly a lot of options. 

Any memory that came to mind, you thought about it, hashed over every moment of it, looked at every viewpoint you could think of from Alexia’s perspective, until you rinsed it dry and tears soaked your pillow. All these times where her disdain towards you was glaringly obvious, yet you still didn’t have the strength to break apart the love you stored in your bones. You found yourself defending her, coming up with excuses for the way she acted, and no part of you stopped yourself. 

Eventually though, the tears dried out, just in time for you to start getting ready for dinner with her family. 

Her family, who were none the wiser to the despicable actions of their daughter, sister, niece, cousin. They thought the world of her, the star of the family, heart of the city, the best athlete of her sport that could do no wrong, personally and professionally.

Was it wrong to end a relationship out of convenience, yet still pretend to be in love to avoid the dull task of sharing the embarrassment that it hadn’t worked out as planned? They probably wouldn’t think so. They would take her side, paint you as the villain, and shower the Ballon d’Or winner with the support and care they believed you never gave her. You did, Alexia knew that, yet you couldn’t imagine a world where she’d stick up for you anymore.

That was just another example of how lonely you’d be if anyone found out what had happened. You decided, in the end, you had no choice but to continue this act. The realisation that the greatest loss in all this wasn’t the love you had to fake, but the person you became to keep the lie alive, was so soul-crushing. What hurt more was that there wasn’t a thing you could do to fight it.

You had to redo your makeup twice before Alexia texted saying she was waiting for you, not because you were crying, but because your hands trembled with adrenaline, the only saving grace for this dinner. You couldn’t get through it on your own, maybe this was the one time your anxiety would come in handy.

Her mother greeted you warmly, rambling about how long it had been since she last saw you, and how exhausted you looked. Alexia, of course, wasn’t far behind nor out of earshot – you could bet your house on the fact she wouldn’t leave your side for a second throughout this torture, desperate for another glimpse of the wounds she was leaving – with a flash of a warning in her eyes for you to keep your mouth shut, before the warmth came flooding back and she greeted her family with a smile she once gave to you.

Food was passed up and down the table in heirloom dishes, recipes that had been family tradition for longer than any of them could remember filling Eli’s home with a concoction of scents, all of which were heavenly and not an ounce overwhelming. Though, despite the sweetness in the air and the deliciousness on show, you couldn’t quite find your appetite. Alexia noticed and turned her head, her lips by your ear, murmuring about ‘growing up’ and ‘not coming across as rude’ and ‘not making a scene in front of her family’ before pulling away with a kiss to your cheek. Some of her family caught on, grinning and winking and teasing her for such a deliberate display of affection, and she brushed it off with some gently-uttered Catalan, which had them all cooing and smiling brightly at you.

Then, the questions came. Wine, sangria, beer, they’d all loosened the Putellas’ tongues. 

When are you popping the question, Ale?

How many children do you plan to have?

It’s about time you bought a house together, no?

How many carats in your ring, hija?

For reasons you didn’t care to delve into, it was them that snapped you out of the daze you were in. The numbness faded. The emotions came barrelling in. The hate outgrew the love, brewing and simmering, rising, until it bubbled over and erupted.

Though, you still had some decency, where the same couldn’t be said for Alexia.

The questions stopped when you slowly stood from your chair, your adrenaline urging you to move quicker but your sense overshadowing it, as you pulled your hand from Alexia’s grasp. It tightened for a moment, trying to keep you in place and under her control, where she was able to contort and twist your view of yourself, your view of the world and what you believed was acceptable for yourself. But for the first time, you slipped away before she could do anything to stop you. 

Silently, like you should have done weeks ago, you walked away from her and out the front door. As soon as you were out of sight, the door closing softly behind, you ran. 

You ran because you could, because now was finally time for you to relish in the strength that had been out of reach for longer than you could remember. You ran because your adrenaline was shouting for you to, needing an outlet for all that had built up and led to this moment. There were emotions coursing through you again, compared to the numbness that had consumed you, and you didn’t know what to do with the rush that came other than run. It was a madly cathartic feeling, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before.

Until you crashed. And everything crumbled down on top of you. 

You stopped running. You looked around. 

You were in a neighbourhood just outside of Barcelona that you didn’t recognise enough to be able to navigate how to get home. The reason for that? It was your girlfrie- no, your ex-girlfriend’s mother’s neighbourhood, Alexia’s hometown, where everyone there knew the Putellas-Segura family not just because of the height of the captain’s success but because of how close-knit the community was. They didn’t know you, but they surely would when word would spread like a wildfire about the events you had caused. Yet more people that would be against you.

Your phone was buzzing wildly in your pocket, and that numbness, the anxiety, the mental paralysis that struck whenever Alexia reached out to you tried desperately to take over. But you had made it this far, you weren’t about to ruin all your progress. So, you declined her call, and despite the fear that had your hands shaking and mind racing, you blocked her contact.

The calls stopped immediately, as did the messages. And where you stood then, there were no physical traces of her in your life. No toxicity bleeding through your phone and making a place for itself in your mind. It was the first time she couldn’t contact you, couldn’t force herself into your head, couldn’t control you.

Every decision you made then was entirely your choice.

You called a taxi. You waited on the side of a road, having to stumble through the pronunciation of the street you were on to the poor driver on the other side of the phone, and waited. Your eyes didn’t stop scanning the area around you, worried that Alexia would somehow be right behind you, desperate to verbally lay into you for the rest of the evening.

However, the cab arrived before that could happen, so you clambered into the back of it and slammed the door shut behind you with a little too much haste. The driver glanced back at you in the rearview mirror, and you smiled apologetically, before relaying the address of your apartment. 

It wasn't relief or gratitude that filled you during that car journey. That would be too good to be true. No, instead it was a deep, burdening feeling of... unknown. These weeks of unsettlement and unfamiliarity hadn’t prepared you for not being the puppet that Alexia controlled with the strings at her fingertips. Your heart beated wildly in your chest, thumping away with the rhythm of your thoughts which were far too convoluted for you to make a clear plan of action.

What were you going to do once you got home? Just... go to bed? Then wake up in the morning and head to training like nothing had happened? As if your life hadn't just burst at the seams, flipped upside down, imploded, for the second time in only a few weeks?

And as it had done for so long now, your mind began to betray you. One could class it as second nature at this point. Because, how could you do this to her? You did cause a scene in front of her family, and in the process, probably burnt every remaining bridge you had in Barcelona.

This wasn’t something to celebrate. That feeling of catharsis earlier? Merely a distant memory. All you felt was regret. A few friends had warned you in the first place about everything to do with your move to the Spanish city. Why move so far from home? Why uproot everything you ever knew? And many more along those lines.

Yet, the ones that stood out the most were all to do with her.

How could you fall in love with your captain? Wouldn't a breakup between you both ruin the team? She's the best footballer in the world, what are you doing with her? Out of everyone she could have, why you? She could have anyone in Barcelona, what is it about you that she could surely find in anyone else?

Maybe all their doubts were right. It really was doomed from the start.

And as you unlocked one door to your flat after arriving, you looked around at the space that once brought comfort, the only thing it gave now was... cold, but deserved loneliness.

All you could do was stare and reflect on how the dull, desolate, dark and dismal space only represented the punishment of your actions. You did this to yourself; there was nobody coming to save you, nor did anyone even want to.

Except one, but help was the furthest thing on her mind.

“Open this door right now!”

You could recognise that angry, demanding voice anywhere.

“Do you know what you have done!?”

Of course you knew. That's what killed you the most. There was no coming back from this, not when she was outside your door with more fury in her words than you had ever heard before.

“Will… will you just let me in? So we can talk?”

When she spoke then, there was an ounce of sympathy in her tone, which you grasped onto as if your life depended on it. She had you wrapped around her finger, and she knew it. You were pretty certain she revelled in it.

A second passed between her plea and you rushing to let her in. Perhaps even that was generous.

Her shoulder shoved into yours as she rushed in, immediately beginning to rant a tad aggressively in rushed Catalan. For a moment, you feared her, afraid of the capability she had with her words. One of the many things you had learnt about her in the weeks that had passed was that her need for control and her willingness to express that had no boundaries at all.

On the other hand, your earlier discovery that you did indeed have a backbone sparked something inside of you. If you didn't act upon it now, didn't take advantage of the rare situation where you had some faith in yourself, you'd never make it out with your self-worth in tact. You didn't want to build your future on a foundation of lies and deceit. You didn't want to trade in your potential for a lifetime with someone that did nothing but wear you down to the point that you didn't recognise the person in the mirror.

You knew who you could be if you just took your life into your own hands, you saw that earlier, and the figure that looked back at you when you did your hair in the morning and brushed your teeth at night was a brave woman that deserved more than what she had put up with these last weeks. You had a life before Alexia, one full of actual joy and unbridled excitement which had led you to this city in the first place – that same person deserved a life free from the restraints of a shameful, dishonourable relationship that hadn't been real for months, nevermind the weeks of theatrical, Oscar-winning performances that came from a place of hatred, not love. It was never love on Alexia's behalf, not for a single fleeting moment.

“No, Alexia, you do not get to come here and do this. I refuse to sit back and be the punching bag you use for your own fucked up ego!”

Her scathing rambling in her mother tongue came to a halt. The silence that followed was oppressive to Alexia, a feeling she'd inflicted upon you countless times yet never been on the receiving end of. For you, the silence was nothing but an opportunity to finally take back the reins of your life.

“YOU broke up with ME!” You shouted, and instantly felt a rush of adrenaline surge through, just like it had done earlier. “But you won't let me leave your life! You won't let me grieve our relationship! I wa-”

“I told you it was better if we c-”

“No, it is my turn to speak. You have spoken more than enough recently.” The glare you sent her way physically hurt her. She knew she deserved it but it made her sick. This had been a long time coming. “I have spent every second these past few weeks trying to be good enough for you and if anybody asked me why, I don't think I could come up with a truthful answer. Maybe it's because I hoped you would see just how much I loved you, that you would change your mind and say you regret breaking up with me. But now... I just have to thank you.”

Her face pinched together in confusion, and all she wished for in that moment was a chance to explain herself.

When she sent that text, however long ago it was, she never planned for it to end like this. She wasn't in her right mind as she typed it out and hit send. Tears burnt her eyes and dropped onto the seat of her car whilst the regret that tried to save her from drowning was out-strengthed by the shame that pulled her under. If she could take back the break-up, she would in a heartbeat. That was something she realised the moment she saw your first tear drop, when she heard the first poorly disguised sniffle from the person she still loved, whilst she wrecked the beautiful relationship you both had built, in less time than it took to say the alphabet.

That was no excuse, she knew that. It was just far too little, and far too late.

“Wh-what? Thank me?” She repeated. The defeated look on her face would have wrecked you once. On this occasion, you had to stifle a grin that would border on being a little too psychotic. Revenge was a dish best served cold.

“Yes. You showed me your true colours, Ale. I planned on spending the rest of my life with you, so thank you for showing me who you truly are before we were in too deep. You hurt me more than I could ever express these last weeks. You ruined me. But I know I am ten times the person you'll ever be, and I know that I can pick myself up and put myself back together. I don't want you around to see that, you don't deserve it.”

There it was, the statement Alexia had feared for weeks: you didn't want her around anymore.

Those words were the reason why she had barely let you out of her sight, why she always cut you off at the first sign of conflict. If she kept you under her watchful eye and within arms reach, she could pretend, even for just half a second, that the pair of you were still wrapped up in each other's love, like Alexia hadn't broken up with you. ‘Selfish’ hardly scratched the surface in reference to her actions and this one-sided deal. But if it all ended, the two of you would just be teammates again, which somehow hurt worse than being strangers. And should you ever leave the club, she wouldn't even have an excuse to talk to you everyday. Maybe that would be better than playing football together whilst having to pretend there wasn't a year's worth of history, of adoration, of pure and whole-hearted love between you.

You clasped your hands in front of you as you waited for her to process your words, just another grace you gave her that she never did you. Everytime in the past that she had said something that felt like a blow to the stomach, she swiftly moved on before you could compute what she said. She seemed speechless, which was a first.

“I… no, you have the wrong impression, mi amor, I didn't-”

“You don't get to call me that anymore. You lost that right the second you started pulling away before you even ended our relationship. But please, go ahead and try to dig yourself out of this mess.” Every time you spoke and returned the harshness she previously addressed you with, the pained expression to her face only intensified.

“The person you saw since we broke up, that's not me, I swear!" You couldn't help but scoff. “I mean that honestly. I... I don't recognise that person. You must know that, no?”

Her lips could lie, but her eyes couldn't hide her true thoughts. She was clutching at straws and coming up empty for reasons about her arrogant, toxic behaviour. Choosing to stay silent despite the pleading look on her face, you sighed exasperatedly.

“I am sorry, and I will make sure that you know that. I have regretted breaking up with you from the moment the words left my mouth. Even more when I asked you to do this deal. It's not right, or fair, and I don't know why I thought it was acceptable to ask you to do it. All I know is that I did it because I love you. And I couldn't bear to let you go.” She spoke slowly but with desperation clear on her face and in the way she moved. 

Whilst she was talking, her hands never stopped moving in front of her, though she ended her point with the palm of her left hand, the one that always held yours no matter what, landing on her heart. Under her soft skin there, with the lines there you were sure you had memorised, she felt the rapid beat of the organ that was slowly, at a tortuous pace, being torn in two. And it was entirely because of her own doing.

“That isn't how you love someone, Ale.” You said simply, ensuring she felt the full effect of those words.

The first tear of the confrontation fell at that precise moment. It didn't come from you.

“I know.” Alexia whispered, her voice cracking as the dam she’d worked so hard to build for the last however long finally burst. 

Even after all that had happened, all the pain she'd handcrafted for you and the irrevocable damage she'd caused, you would be lying if you said the sight of her crying didn't make you feel guilty. You weren't the type of person that made people cry. It took all the will-power you had to remind yourself that the blonde in front of you had dug her own grave and it was time for her lay in it.

“I’m not going to sit around and be the outlet for whatever identity or moral crisis you're going through. I deserve better.”

“And I know that, I promise that I do." She sobbed. “You do deserve better and I'm sorry I couldn't be that for you.”

“There you are.”

Your words shocked you just as much as they did Alexia, they came out before you had even registered them as a thought. Apparently the adrenaline was doing more work than you assumed. It wasn't ideal, but you weren't sure how you would cope without it. Acting like this was so out of the norm for you, if it wasn't for the addictive rush throughout your veins, you dread to think of what you would have done when the midfielder initially arrived. The most likely outcome was… you breaking down into tears, falling to your knees, and apologising in such a pathetic manner that Alexia had no choice but to take you back into her arms with an awkward, pitiful grimace on her face.

Thankfully, nothing remotely close had happened. If anything, it was the opposite. The tables had turned to an extreme degree. You had every bit of control in this scenario, and though you didn't doubt that Alexia could flip it around whenever she felt like it, it was your opportunity to recover your sanity and make the most of this one time where the cards were in your hands.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alexia questioned.

“The woman I fell in love with, who has a heart and actual feelings." It was a comment that almost crossed an invisible line by your standards. Not like you could take it back though, so you had to settle for pursuing vengeance and continue by explaining yourself to the clueless woman before you. “Who thinks of the person she’s talking to as an equal rather than someone she towers over. Who reali-”

“I have never thought of you as below me, why would you say that?” She interrupted you in a panic, but you ignored her.

“Who realises that her actions actually do have consequences, and that people won’t stick around when she doesn’t show she appreciates their company. Where have you been all this time?” You laughed in spite of her, to which her eyes widened and she took a step closer. She tried to reach out for your hand, but you moved it out of her way.

“I have been right here, I haven’t gone anywhere!” Alexia argued. It was funny really, just how quick her entire façade had subsided and gave way for such a ridiculously victimised mindset.

“You and I both know that’s not true at all. For the last quarter of our relationship, you’ve been a completely different person. So distant and… unbothered. Unbothered about me, you didn’t show for a second that you cared for me and loved me. And instead of a seamless split where we both can grieve in whatever way works best for us individually, you drag me around on your arm, flaunting how detached you are!” You were shouting, you recognised that, but you didn’t care. The neighbours can have their fun and get a front row seat to it all. “I thought you, at the very least, had the common human decency to not be selfish and let me work through my feelings, where I was completely heartbroken may I add, with no distractions and no games. But no, you forced me into this excruciatingly difficult and painful experience that h-has wrecked me!”

Tears hit the wooden slats beneath the pair of you, both looking through blurry vision and barely being able to stomach the sight of the other in such states. Never, in the time you’ve known each other, did either of you think it would ever end like this. 

“I’m sorry.” It was all Alexia could think to say. And it wasn’t good enough, she never had been.

Pulling your sleeves over your hands, you turned away from her for a moment and dried your face from the endless stream of emotion that overwhelmed you. As you did so, you took a few quiet deep breaths in, an attempt to gain back some composure. 

“The last thing you will do for me is telling people the truth.” You began when you turned back to her. “You won’t leave out a single bit of detail. You will tell everybody we had in our life together what you did to me, what you made me do.”

“I already told my family. After you left.”

That caught you off guard. You didn’t expect her to have the guts. 

There was a brief period of time between you getting home and Alexia arriving that you don’t really remember. It was a blur, mostly, not that you were surprised considering the anxious cycle of spiralling you found yourself in. 

You found enough satisfaction from the way she murmured that admission that she felt a deep amount of shame, and possibly a hint of embarrassment, meaning her family had hopefully lay into her about her actions. Maybe they were on your side after all.

“There are still many people to tell. You’re not getting away with this, Ale. I will make sure you never do this to anyone else, ever.” 

For Alexia, who foolishly had a speckle of hope remaining, had all her dreams about the future shattered with that last sentence.

“I cannot get you back? Ever?” 

Even if it did frustrate you, you couldn’t just forget a year-long relationship in a flash.

“I don’t think so.” You told her, because you couldn’t give her a straight no.

She nodded on instinct, until she stopped, because a fresh wave of sobs consumed her, and she had to cover her mouth to muffle the sounds of them. She only allowed a couple to escape, before she forced down all that emotion and glanced back at you.

“I know I deserve that. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.” This time, you nodded, because you agreed with her. 

The Barcelona captain had hurt you immeasurably, yes, but after all, love always went in hand with hate. And despite the fact the latter was a much stronger feeling now than it had been since that day in your apartment with a stoic, indifferent blonde in front of you, you couldn’t ignore the feelings you still held for her. They had taken a backseat throughout this, though as the argument gradually came to a natural end, the events of the day depleting both your emotional staminas, those same feelings came creeping back. In all honesty, you didn’t think they would ever fully leave. That was an issue to tackle another day.

“I understand. But you have to learn how to deal with that because I don’t think it will ever change.” You told her, a little less sternness in your voice now that the fight was beginning to leave you.

“I will. I will do everything you have said, I promise.” Her last promise to you.

There wasn’t much else to say after that, apart from…

“I think… I think you should go now.”

So, with a single nod of her head, Alexia slowly made her way to the door and you trailed after her. You saw the tremor to her hand when she reached for the handle, and heard the shake of her breath when she breathed out. Then she opened the door, and with one last look back at you with glossy eyes that held far too many emotions within them to be unpacked right now, she stepped out into the corridor and closed it behind her.

The sole company you were left with was the silence that cloaked your apartment. It was deafening, and the only thing it did was heighten the emotions you were left with. 

All you could do, in that moment, was slump back against the wall by the entryway, slowly slide down it until you were seated on the floor, and cry out every last tear you had left inside you.

[winwintea]

that's okay

PAIRING ↬ academic rival!na jaemin x ace!female reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, academic rivals to lovers au, college au, fake dating au, jaemin = campus playboy, drunk decisions, art museum date, plushies because i want a plushie, jaemin is kinda whipped fr

SUMMARY ↬ you're determined to outshine your academic rival na jaemin, the campus heartthrob infamous for his frivolous reputation. but when a few too many drinks suddenly ropes you into a fake dating scheme with jaemin, you realize that there's much more to him than his playboy persona. can two opposites navigate a connection that’s anything but fake?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lotties-readings !! grinding this fic in a day was so fun. the 3 am brain creativity actually carried this time too. hope i did him justice 😭😭 SHOUTOUT TO THE ASEXUAL COMMUNITY I LOVE YALL <33 THIS ONE'S FOR YOU !!!!

PLAYLIST ↬ cooler than me - mike posner, anti-romantic - txt, are you satisfied? - marina, that's okay - d.o.

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?

Na Jaemin. The Playboy. He’s probably slept with half of the school and the rumors are on and off with him. The college’s infamous frivolous playboy, a firm believer of the ‘hook up as much as you can before you find your soulmate!’ ideology. For some, it was oddly endearing. For you? Maddening. Because Na Jaemin wasn’t just a playboy. He was your rival. Jaemin just had this certain charm to him that attracted the masses. Everyone, including your friends, had had a crush on him at one point in their lives. Everyone except you. Despite his supposedly carefree attitude, he always ranked #1. And you? Stuck perpetually at #2, clawing at his heels, only for him to breeze past like it was nothing. If it were anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t care so much. But no—it had to be him.

You swore to steer clear of him. No parties, no flirtations, and certainly no personal involvement. That resolve lasted until one ill-advised college party, where Jaemin, drunk and absurdly charismatic, roped you into the lead role of his most ridiculous performance yet: his fake significant other. And you were equally as drunk to play along with it, nodding in the face of his ex-girlfriend as she looked at the both of you in disbelief. For a playboy like Jaemin, you thought he was managing to control his dating life better than this. But you guess he just got bored of being surrounded by love.  “Just go with it,” he’d said. You hadn’t thought it would last beyond that night.

You were wrong.

You suppose it’s partly your own fault finding yourself in your current situation, considering the recent events. In a world where everyone is busy chasing after time, enjoying the dating scene, you’re an outcast. An outcast with false modesty to trick people’s curiosity. You should be used to them by now, their comments about you not being interested in relationships. And even though you do feel fed up with it, the thought of lying about dating someone just so they can shut up never crossed your mind.

“Remind me again why I have to spend the whole day being your pretend partner.” you say, glaring as Jaemin hands you a pastry. “The party doesn’t start until 10PM tonight!” 

“Here you go, love. Be careful, it’s hot!” he says, completely ignoring your question. He resumes walking, hands in his pockets, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, resuming your slow stroll in the garden of a nearby art museum. You hurriedly take it from his hands if that would make him finally pay attention to your question.

“I know it’s hot,” you mutter, taking the pastry anyway. He’s insufferable. Even now, you can tell he’s doing this for show, making a big deal out of playing the doting boyfriend for the strangers milling about the museum garden. “Do you ever actually answer questions, or is that too much to ask?”

“Oh, I answer,” he breezily responds, unfolding a crumpled checklist from his coat pocket. “I’m just selective about when. Do you want to taste mine? I can taste yours too.”

“No thank you.”

Straightening the lapels of his gray coat, Jaemin fetches the brochure handed earlier to him out of his inner pocket and takes a quick look at it to make sure you checked out everything of interest in the area before entering the museum itself. “Now, do you want to check out the sculptures before we head to the main exhibit?”

The guy has a whole checklist of activities for the day. You’ve seen it. He purposely taped another page underneath just to scare you with its sheer length, but you’re seeing right through his tricks, the page is full of gibberish written just to take space. You’ve got your best frown on to keep the illusion of ignorance, hoping that you’d get bonus points for agreeing to go through the full contents of the list, both the real and the fake ones. 

But is it really an act? The occasional tidbits of satisfaction coming from beating Jaemin’s brilliant mind (not that you’d ever give him the credit for it) are hardly enough to keep you entertained throughout the day. When the activities you take on today are meant to be just that, entertaining. And romantic too. 

Now, were you a normal couple, a true couple, then maybe you’d be having fun now.

“Jaemin, I think partners are supposed to listen to each other. At the very least.”

He grins, entirely unbothered by your irritation. “Relax, Y/N. We’re supposed to look like we’re having fun. Couples don’t bicker this much in public, you know.”

“Maybe because real couples actually like each other.”

“And yet,” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “Here we are. The picture of romance.” Ah. He’s right, damn it.

“I only lowered my guard because these people don’t know us, stupid… Let’s get inside already!”

Hearing his low, annoying chuckle triggers the sensory neurons in your brain until a neat little image of his smirk is produced with near-perfect accuracy. Have you simply seen it too many times? There’s no escape even when you turn your back to him, great.

You grit your teeth but let him guide you down a quieter path, away from the crowds. It’s all part of the act, you remind yourself. Just one day of playing along, and people will stop speculating about your personal life. Totally worth it.

Right?

Inside the museum, the tension eases slightly. The museum is magnificent to explore with the many pieces of art it houses. There’s so much to see that you’d frankly not mind getting lost in here just to have an excuse to spend more time surrounded by art.

You have to admit, Jaemin chose the perfect dating spot. You’re not sure if it was based on your own preferences. Surely not. But you find yourself not minding it suddenly.

“Picture!” he announces, pulling you close before you can protest.

Hearing the signal, you instantly turn in the direction of the raised-up phone, smiling for the camera as Jaemin presses his face closer to yours.

“Oh, this is a good one, I’m definitely posting it. You look so in love.”

“I’m in love with this work, that’s it.” you say flatly, staring at the painting behind him.

“Uh-uh. That works for me too.” Jaemin replies while his fingers dance across the screen, likely typing some cheesy caption for the picture. A second later your own phone vibrates in your pocket, signaling that he posted the picture and tagged you in it, and you don’t even bother looking.

“At least you’re a natural, Jaemin.”

“What, in faking an expression? How are you so sure?”

You blink, meeting his gaze as some child holding a balloon separates the two of you for a mere second. Instinctively, you shorten the distance so you don’t lose Jaemin, looking for his hand to take hold of. You’ve already been through that today, linking hands in the crowds. And while there was no real need to do that right now, you just did that…

To the question in your eyes evoked from his last words, he smirks and adds, “There are pieces of art here that I look at with fondness just like you do.”

Your heart sinks for a moment, only to create palpitations that mess with your head. You have no idea where they came from or what evoked this feeling in your chest, but while looking anywhere but at Jaemin, your gaze falls on other couples passing by. You were instructed to watch them if you’re having trouble recreating the subtle romantic gestures that indicate dating. Advice from him no doubt, one that you wish you could forget because it’s too late telling your brain to forget what it’s been taught. But the question is, why the sudden turning of stomachs at the sight of them?

While failing to watch your step, you lose your balance and stumble on your own feet, meeting the hard ground hands-first. You feel eyes on you for a short moment; just a mere second any stranger might spare to witness the unfortunate event before moving on with their tour.

That’s it, except for Jaemin, who is there to pull you up in a manner of utmost care, dusting off your clothes, taking you to a more secluded area with benches to rest on and asking you at least three times if you’re alright before you can snap out of your surprised state and let out a murmur of affirmation.

In the whirlwind of emotions rushing through your slightly clouded mind, you put the embarrassment of your fall aside. As Jaemin turns your hand around to inspect it, you realize that no amount of hand-holding numbs your reaction to the touch of his warm hands. 

And no amount of his exaggerated lovey-dovey gestures of affection could prepare you for the look of genuine worry over something so insignificant on his face.

“You fell on your hands, they must be scrapped… let’s get them under cold water, it would wash away the dirt too.” 

“It’s okay I can do it myself.” You back away from Jaemin, running to take care of it.

And that’s when you realize it.

Pretending to be Jaemin’s partner might be the biggest mistake of your life.

Because it’s starting to feel a little too real.

When you exit the bathroom, Jaemin is waiting for you outside, arms crossed with an unreadable expression on his face. The two of you continue your museum date as normal, nothing out of the ordinary happening other than Jaemin just being Jaemin. 

When lunchtime rolls around, Jaemin takes you into the museum café, refusing to let you pay for anything even though he bought the museum tickets as well. Struggle as much as you want, Jaemin was pretty stubborn.

You and Jaemin sit across from each other, nursing cups of hot chocolate. The quiet buzz of conversation around you blends with the faint classical music playing overhead, the calmness contrasting your otherwise chaotic day.

You’re still nursing your wounded pride (and scraped hands) from earlier. Jaemin’s fussing had been embarrassing, sure, but also... oddly touching. It’s been messing with your head ever since.

“You’re being quiet,” Jaemin says, breaking the silence. He stirs his drink and watches you with another unreadable expression. “Not complaining. Unusual for you.”

“Just tired,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze. “This whole thing is exhausting.”

“Yeah?” He leans back, “What part? The fake dating, or me?”

“Both.”

His laugh is soft, almost self-deprecating. “Fair.”

A moment passes, and you realize he’s studying you. Not with his usual playful smirk, but something more serious. It’s unsettling and scary, like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know you had.

“You know,” he starts, voice quieter now, “you’ve always hated me.”

Your head snaps up. “What? I don’t—”

“Don’t lie. I noticed.” he cuts in, but there’s no malice in his tone. “It’s fine. I get it. I mean, I’m Na Jaemin, right? The playboy. The guy who’s ‘probably slept with half the school.’” He uses his fingers to air quote the phrase, lips forming a bitter smile. “That’s what people say, isn’t it?”

You feel a pang of guilt. It’s exactly what you’ve always thought, always assumed about him.

He continues, eyes fixed on his drink. “Funny thing is, that wasn’t true at first. I wasn’t like this in high school. Sure, I was flirty, but it was harmless, y’know? Then one day, someone started a rumor about me. Said I hooked up with some senior at a party.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t true, but people believed it. And once the rumors started, they didn’t stop. Girls came up to me and I just... didn’t say no.”

You blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. “Why didn’t you?”

“Why not?” His smile not breaking, “They already thought I was that guy. And honestly? It was easier to play the part than fight it. People liked the idea of me being the ‘fun, no-strings-attached’ guy. I became what they wanted.”

You’re quiet, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. All this time, you’d judged him without really knowing him. And now, sitting across from him, you realize how wrong you’d been.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“For what?”

“For... hating you, I guess. I just—” You hesitate, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, searching for the right words. “I’ve never liked the whole ‘playboy’ thing. It feels... shallow. And I don’t understand how people can be so casual about it.”

Jaemin’s gaze softens. “That’s because it’s not your thing. And that’s okay.”

Your eyes lit up with shock. You definitely weren’t expecting Jaemin to be this receptive towards your criticisms of him. “I guess I’ve always judged people like you because I don’t... get it. Sex and dating just seem so complicated and messy. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Jaemin tilts his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “You’re ace, right?”

You nod, surprised he remembered. He must’ve heard it somewhere, you barely told anyone except for your close friends. Others just assumed, which was fine by you.

“That’s... honestly kind of cool,” he says, leaning forward. “I mean it. You don’t have to deal with all this shit. Expectations, drama, people using you for what they want. You just... are. I envy that.”

“You do?” The idea feels absurd. Jaemin, envying you?

“Yeah.” He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “I’ve spent so much time being what other people expect. Sometimes I don’t even know who I really am. But you? You’re just you. That’s... rare.”

His words catch you off guard, leaving a strange ache in your chest. You wonder if he’s just been hiding behind a mask this whole time. Who really was the Na Jaemin sitting right in front of you right now? “Well,” you say softly, “I think you’re more than what people say about you.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Careful, Y/N. That almost sounded like a compliment. You’re supposed to hate me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you shoot back, but there’s no hostility in your tone.

For the first time, you see him for who he really is. Not Na Jaemin, the playboy, your rival… but just... Jaemin. And maybe, just maybe, you don’t hate him as much as you thought.

When the two of you finished your museum exploration, you found yourselves in the gift shop. The aisles were packed with trinkets, books, and stuffed animals, the kind of things that were charming but utterly unnecessary and overly expensive. You didn’t plan on buying anything, but Jaemin insisted he wanted to pick up something for a friend.

Shivering slightly, you rubbed your arms, trying to warm up in the chill from the air conditioning blowing down from the vent above.

“Cold?” Jaemin asked, his sharp eyes catching your sudden movement.

“Oh, just the A/C,” you replied quickly, waving him off, but you couldn’t stop the flush creeping over your cheeks.

“Do you want my coat?” He was already starting to remove his gray jacket, but you held up a hand.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said hastily. “It’ll be warmer outside.”

Jaemin paused, then smirked. “Aren’t you glad your friends dragged you to that party?” He asked, standing right beside you now, picking up a penguin from the stuffed animal bin. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “Though I’ll admit, this has been... fun. Even if the ‘fake dating’ part threw me for a loop. And yes, he’s super cute. But penguins aren’t my favorite.” 

He raised an eyebrow, eyes burning into you, as he turned the penguin over in his hands. “Who said it was fake?”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d heard right. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer, just hummed and walked away, leaving you standing there with your arms crossed, frowning after him. What’s he playing at?

Trying to shake off the odd tension, you wandered to another shelf and found yourself staring at a tower of cell phone plushies. Your eyes landed on a bunny plush, adorable, with floppy ears, sparkling blue eyes, and a pink nose. You reached for it, but so did another hand.

“Oops—sorry,” you stammered, looking up to see Jaemin standing beside you again.

“Oh,” he said, his voice light, but his eyes were unreadable.

“I was just—”

“Which one did you want?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

“The bunny,” you admitted, pointing. “But it’s the last one, and if you wanted it—”

Before you could finish, he grabbed it.

“Actually, I did,” he said, pulling out his wallet and heading to the cashier.

You stood there, stunned and a little annoyed. Seriously? He’s that kind of guy?

As you stared forlornly at the remaining plushies: a raccoon, a squirrel, and a cat that weren’t nearly as cute. You sighed. It’s fine. It’s just a toy. But somehow, it still stung.

“Here.”

You turned to see Jaemin dangling the bunny plush in front of you, a playful grin on his face. “You—I thought you wanted it?” you said as you reached out to take it. The plush felt even softer than it looked.

“I did,” he said with a wink. “But I wanted to buy it for you.”

“I—thank you.” You stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling silly but also oddly happy. A big, goofy grin spread across your face as you hugged the bunny to your chest.

Jaemin chuckled softly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“Shut up,” you fired back, but your cheeks still burned.

You started to turn away, but Jaemin stopped you with a gentle tug on your sleeve. His expression was different now, serious, almost nervous, as he looked at you.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach flipped. “What is it?”

“This... whole fake dating thing?” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost shy. That was strange in comparison to his usual confidence. “It wasn’t just about my ex, or shutting people up. I—I’ve been watching you for a while. I mean, not in a creepy way,” he added quickly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I just... I’ve always been interested in you. You’re smart, funny, and you don’t care about impressing anyone. You’re... different. In a good way.”

Oh you weren’t expecting that. You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jaemin, I—”

“I know you have concerns,” he said, cutting you off gently. “About... your sexuality, and what people might think. But I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what the world expects or what people say. I care about you. And I’m not asking you to change or be anything other than yourself. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. You didn’t know what to say. You’d spent so long assuming Jaemin was just a shallow playboy, someone who could never understand you. But now, looking into his eyes, you realized how wrong you’d been. Jaemin understood you way too well. Enough to the point where he was hitting all the right points of reassurance in your heart.

“I don’t know if I can be what you’re looking for,” you whispered.

He smiled softly. “You already are.”

For a moment, the world around you faded. The noise of the gift shop, the bustle of other shoppers. It was just you and Jaemin, and the quiet, fragile connection that had grown between you.

Maybe this wasn’t fake after all.

You realized just how much he’d been hiding. Jaemin, the playboy everyone admired, the guy who never seemed to take anything seriously, was opening up to you in a way that was raw, even vulnerable.

“Honestly?” you whispered, clutching the bunny plush to your chest. “I never thought someone like you would understand... someone like me.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “I get that. I probably don’t fit the part, huh? But, Y/N, you’re incredible just as you are. I think it’s amazing that you know what you want and what you don’t want. I wish I’d figured that out sooner.”

You looked down, feeling way too emotional, “So, you really don’t... mind?”

Jaemin shook his head, his smile was gentle. “Not even a little. I’m here because I like you for who you are. You don’t need to be anyone else or change anything about yourself. I’m fully willing to love you. Just like this.”

His words settled over you, as warm and comforting as his coat might have been. The insecurities you’d held about relationships, about your identity, all the ways you feared you might not be enough for someone. Maybe never even find someone at all? They began to melt, replaced by a quiet sense of peace.

“So... if this isn’t fake, does that mean this is... this date is… real?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaemin smiled, reaching down to take your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours in a way that felt so natural it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s as real as you want it to be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring this out together.”

Looking up at him, you felt something you hadn’t quite felt before. This wasn’t about conforming to anyone’s idea of love or romance. It was about connection. And standing there, surrounded by stuffed animals and museum souvenirs, you felt like you’d found something rare.

You squeezed his hand, a small smile breaking across your face. “Alright, Jaemin. Let’s give this a try. Just... don’t go stealing all the last plushies every time we’re out together, okay?”

He laughed, his grin brightening at your words. “Only if you agree to keep that bunny plush with you as a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“Of this moment. And of the fact that someone finds you absolutely perfect, exactly as you are.”

The two of you walked out of the gift shop hand in hand, leaving behind any doubts and stepping into something perfectly real.

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung

[the-thing-withfeathers]

know your worth

a/n: thank you to the anon that requested thisss!! this is my first time around writing some angst for billie so it was actually a cool learning experience hehe. there will 100% be a part two to this.

part 2

request

pairing: billie eilish x reader

warnings: annngggst, toxic relationship, billie neglecting you, cursing, arguments.

summary: billie’s been neglecting you recently to the point of standing you up sometimes and you finally decide to say something about it.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

you stood outside the restaurant you were supposed to meet billie outside of, in the rain, in the cold.

you had spent too long waiting for her to the point where you felt embarrassed when the waiters would check on you. you just decided to leave without grabbing anything to eat, making sure to leave an apologetic tip.

you finally called it when you opened up instagram after texting & calling relentlessly. you saw that she was partying with her friends on one of their stories. your look of disappointment was one that was hard to miss. tears started to form in your eyes when you realised your girlfriend either forgot about you or didn’t care at all. both were equally as painful.

you took an uber here as you & billie were going to drive back together in the car you two often shared when she wasn’t been escorted in limos. you had no time to wait for one so you whistled and called a taxi instead.

it took everything in you to hold back crying so that the poor taxi driver didn’t have to witness the mess you were.

while in the back of the taxi, you thought about how this all started in the first place.

billie had come home after a long year’s tour, you were waiting for her at the airport. it was pure bliss to feel her arms wrap around you again for the first time in a long time. you lifted her into the air and spun her around.

despite her being home from tour though, she still worked everyday. she spent time in the studio and it felt like days would never end. you did work too but you got home much earlier than she did. however, it was comforting knowing she would come straight home to you. you would greet her with home-cooked meals, already doing most of the housework. she was grateful at first, but then you noticed her mood started to change.

she started just going straight to bed, ignoring your meal that you had set up for the two of you. you would join her in bed but she’d shelter from any touch you tried to give her even if it was just a cuddle. you started suggesting date nights like movies but she always gave the excuse of being too tired. part of you felt horrible for feeling neglected as you know how hard she worked and if you were in her place, you’d be tired too.

you started to tell your friends about this. they made you see that you worked long days too despite coming home earlier, but you still made an effort. you had no idea why billie was suddenly acting this way.

even more pain came when you realised that she was free some nights, you just had no idea. she spent those nights partying with her friends, without you there. sometimes you’d even see her getting close to some other girl in a video your mutual friend took. you felt your heart break at the thought that maybe billie just outgrew you.

when you arrived home, you handed the cash to the driver, quickly making your way back to your apartment. you slammed the door behind you, leaning your back against it. you finally get the tears go, finding it harder to breathe.

you had gotten dolled up in hopes that she may finally choose you just for one night.

you ran into your shared bedroom, swinging open the closet door and grabbing a bag for yourself. you started packing some clothes just to last you a couple of nights, you rang one of your closest friends asking them if you could stay the night.

you heard them sigh at the other end of the phone, knowing they were holding back an “i told you so.” or maybe even an “about time.” you just weren’t in the mood to hear it. they understood that and just responded with an “of course you can stay.”

you felt humiliated that you allowed yourself to put up with it for as long as you did. you just loved billie too much to give up now. your relationship was hard work, you’d hate for it to become futile.

you just wanted the girl you fell in love with back. the girl that had an endless list of romantic gestures to surprise you with, the girl that used to write songs about you and perform them before she showed it to anyone else, the girl that loved you just as much as you loved her. you missed that side of billie, and you wondered if maybe that girl was too far gone.

you heard the door swing open, soft footsteps making their way across your apartment. you felt yourself freeze, fight or flight kicking in. for the first time in your life, you were scared of billie. not scared of what she might do but scared because it was practically like interacting with a stranger. you had no idea what she might say to the sight of you packing up to leave her.

would she be mad? would she let you go? would she try to fight? all those questions terrified you. the uncertainty scared the living daylights out of you.

you finished up packing your clothes just as she entered your bedroom.

“hey baby, what’s going on?” she asked, slurring her words a little bit. she was inebriated, of course she was. you didn’t answer her, making your way to the bathroom to grab your toiletries.

“baby.” she said, a bit more firm. you stuttered in your step when the nickname came out of her mouth but shook it away. she just looked confused at you when you chucked them into your bag.

“i’m done, bils.” you said, grinding your teeth as you zipped your bag shut. you walked to your bedside table to grab your chargers. “i’m done being treated like shit.”

“c’mon baby, i don’t treat you like shit.” she said, letting out a dry chuckle as a smile formed. “you’re being dramatic.”

“really?!” you said, angry. your tears started to form again, you tried to hold them back as you didn’t want to show weakness in front of her. “you fucking ditched me today, i was all alone in that restaurant waiting for you.”

her smile suddenly faded. she forgot. she didn’t care. you didn’t know.

“i’m so busy, baby. you can’t seriously expect me to be perfect and remember all our dates.” she tried to make up an excuse. you were hurt that she didn’t even apologise.

“busy enough to go to a party with your friends?” you snapped, aggressively shoving your charger into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “be so fucking for real right now, billie. you didn’t forget. you just don’t give a shit anymore.”

“oh fuck you!” she said, pointing at you. “if i didn’t give a shit about you, you wouldn’t even be here right now!” she yelled.

“wow. that shows me how fucking disposable income am then. i didn’t realise you saw me that way.” you said, walking past her and shoulder bumping her. “after everything i’ve done, how can you say that?!” you asked, turning around to look at her, standing in the living room.

you should have walked away, but given the fact that this is the most attention billie’s shown you, you wanted to stay and fight.

“you know what? you are disposable. i could have anyone! they’d be okay with me going out and partying.” she scoffed.

“yeah? well when you find someone that loves you just as much as i do despite you neglecting them, you let me know!”

“i will!” she said, walking closer to you. “i bet it won’t be hard.”

you laughed, anger seeping through your voice. “fuck you, billie. maybe you can go ask that girl you were grinding on at that party last week. tell me, did you sleep with her? is that why you’re being like this? did you cheat?”

“no, i didn’t. but maybe i should have, she was more fun than you’ll ever be. at least she wasn’t a damn shut in with no life.” she spat out.

you went quiet, did billie actually say that to you?

you were so hurt by her words, you thought you had been a good enough partner to her. maybe you weren’t enough for her, and the thought of that brought you to your breaking point.

“fuck…” you whimpered out, covering your mouth. “you’ve changed so much… you’re not the girl i fell in love with anymore…”

she scoffed at you, “well maybe i should’ve been this way all along. i feel good like this.”

“fine… be that way.” you said, turning around and twisting the door knob.

“you’re nothing without me! you love being useful to me” she called after you. “where are you gonna go?!” she asked.

“anywhere but here.” you slammed the door shut as you made your way out of your apartment, leaving the love of your life behind.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

billie woke up the next morning, groaning with a pounding headache that she couldn’t seem to best. she didn’t remember much about the party last night— nor did she remember the argument you had.

she only remembered when she opened up your shared closet to get dressed and found the majority of your clothes missing.

“oh… oh fuck.” she said, grabbing her phone and immediately trying to call you. it went straight to unavailable. she started to send a few texts.

‘baby, baby, i’m so so sorry.’

‘please answer my calls.’

‘please call me.’

‘i’m so sorry, please forgive me. i didn’t mean it.’

she went straight to social media, trying to find you but noticing that you had blocked her on most of your accounts. she found herself starting to cry, all the regret building up in her chest.

her tears fell onto her phone as she searched for any way to contact you. she sat down on the bed you used to share, it still smelled like you. her head was in her hands, she was trying to figure out where you could have gone in hopes of going there and talking to you. but because she hadn’t been around you, she wouldn’t know which of your close friends or relatives would house you.

she had stopped her crying, making it her mission to find you today. she had gotten dressed and her muscle memory took over, swinging the fridge door open in hopes of finding some leftovers of one of your famous home-cooked meals that you would have tucked away. her tears started to fall again when she realised there was nothing there waiting for her.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

it had been a week since you left your apartment. billie found it to be an incredibly insufferable week.

she had gotten home that week in a pissy mood, chucking her keys into the table beside the door and dumping her bag on the floor.

she had noticed that the apartment had changed, everything was suddenly clean. this past week, she hadn’t gotten the chance to clean anything up or do any chores. she heard running water from the kitchen and practically sprinted over there.

she found you placing the last dish onto the drying rack.

“baby.” she said, a relieved sigh leaving her lips. “i’m so glad you’re okay.”

“i’m just here to pick up the rest of my stuff.” you said, sighing a less relieved sigh, it was more of a disappointed one. you had hoped to be gone before she returned.

“you don’t have to go, please. we can work this out.” she begged you. you wouldn’t even turn to look at her.

“we can’t. not with the way you’ve handled this. there’s nothing to work out.” you finally turned around to look at her. your eyes looked tired and your face drooped in sadness, she still thought you were incredibly beautiful.

“but i’m sorry… i’m just so sorry.” she stepped towards you but you walked past her into the bedroom you used to call yours.

“sorry’s just not going to cut it, billie.” you said, picking up a box of your things. “i don’t think you understand how much you’ve hurt me. the things you said? they really pushed me over the edge. i thought that maybe i was the terrible person. but i was wrong, you were treating me horribly.”

“i can change, i promise.” billie cried out, trying to stop you from leaving.

“please move, bils.” you asked her, your eyes going soft. the nickname made her weak to her knees, she loved when you called her that. she stepped aside, sniffling softly.

“please… give me the chance to change.” she walked after you.

“i believe you can change, billie. i know you can. i just don’t think i can stick around for it.” you sighed, opening the door with your free hand. “maybe the next person that you find yourself with will reap the benefits of your change.” you said, walking out the door and closing it behind you.

she fell to her knees as the door closed. from that moment onwards, she vowed to change for the better. but she wanted the person that reaped the benefits to be you.

and you only.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

a/n: part 2 with billie redemption arc incomingg!

[jarofstyles]

Bad Idea, Right?

Obviously inspired by Miss Olivia Rodrigo’s song, here is a one shot I loved writing :) a bit of angst, a bit of a fluff, a lot of smut, a little bit of everything!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings!

WC- 6.2k

Warnings- toxic relationship, kinda asshole h, angst, crying, slight degradation, spitting, impact play (light), sex tape filming, daddy kink (light), use of Mama 🤭

—-

Y/N knew this was a very bad idea. She knew she was going to regret this in the morning, as she usually did when Harry texted her to show up somewhere, but here she was. 

Her best black dress in the most soft fabric, the one he had complimented her on endlessly before peeling it off when they had still been together, was glued to her body, Hair curled and falling down her shoulders. If she was going to show up at a houseparty that her ex boyfriend was throwing, she may as well go all out and wear something that she knew he liked. 

Internally, she tried to talk herself out of it as she approached the open door, ignoring the people making out on his lawn. The thump of the bass was audible outside, a deep sigh being let out as she tossed her phone in her clutch after texting him a simple ‘here.’ The shot she had taken before had done next to nothing to calm her nerves, her red lipstick meticulously touched up in the back of the uber as she squirmed in the seat surely getting fucked up as she bit down on her bottom lip, venturing into the home that used to be so familiar to her. 

It had been 5 months since they’d broken up, but it had barely seemed like it. Harry had a way of getting into her head and driving her absolutely fucking mad. Their back and forth seemed neverending, their text threads updating every few days. A fight, a makeup, a request to see one another. As much as she wanted to claim it was all him, she knew she was equally as bad. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to find someone else- but no one else could get her off like him.

Harry knew her body better than anyone else, every curve and mark, where to touch and stroke. Where to stroke, where to lick, where to bite. He was an expert on how to get her off in just minutes, her cunt completely dedicated to him as much as she wished it wasn’t. Her brain and pussy had no communication in the information regarding the fact they were broken up, much to her dismay. The only thing saving her ego was that she knew that she had the same effect on Harry. There was no way she didn’t. Harry could very well fuck anyone he wanted to, more than capable to pull. Y/N had been overly jealous as a girlfriend and she knew that, but people were drawn to her boyfriend despite the fact it was well known he was taken. While he didn’t seem to take them up on it- he ate up the attention and preened over it, much to her irritation. It caused fights upon fights, her going out of her way to make him jealous- which worked. They both seemed to get off on pissing each other off. 

Breaking up was supposed to stop the cycle, but it seemed to only string it out further.

There had been so many times she deleted his number but when he pulled up on her notifications again, she recognized the number and his attitude and couldn’t resist temptation. No one had ever made Y/N feel so many emotions in her life. Being around Harry was like a live wire, electric and hot, dangerous and potentially harmful, but the benefits sometimes outweighed the risks. 

Her nose crinkled as she felt the floor stick under her shoe, knowing he would be pissed about that tomorrow. Whatever spiked punch was all over the floor and that would take some elbow grease to get out. Navigating through the entryway, she made her way into the living room. It was dark, flimsy lighting had been put up to make colorful strobes go around the room, the room far too filled for comfort. It was stupidly warm, regret crawling up her neck as she looked around to find anyone familiar. 

“There she is!” The voice was unmistakable. Niall, arms tugging her in for a hug and pulling her into the kitchen where it was a bit quieter, the main group she was familiar with strung about along with a few strangers. “Harry’s girl is here, everyone! Y/N herself.” He chirped, making her give him a confused look until she followed his gaze to see Harry standing stiffly, a girl too close for comfort. Her eyes narrowed, taking in how the girl angled her body, hand resting on Harry’s arm, looking at her with a scowl. 

It was an ugly feeling to see someone else around her man. Well- he wasn’t her man, but it was another miscommunication between her heart and brain. She hated seeing him around someone else, the mere idea of him being with someone that wasn’t her made her stomach turn. It wasn’t right. Yes, she knew it was a toxic cycle but it was one she didn’t know how to break. She knew this was bad, but she didn’t want anyone else having him the way she did. 

The only saving grace was the fact that Harry looked uncomfortable, immediately peeling himself away from the other girl and coming straight over to Y/N.. Her face must have shown her irritation, mouth opening and arm resting on her hip as she went to give him a bit of hell but was cut off by his mouth. 

And Y/N’s body, she was a fucking traitor. Feeling his arms wrap around her and push her against the counter, his tongue pressing into her mouth and tasting the cinnamon from the alcohol and sticky remnants of Coca Cola on his lips made her brain go numb. She always did love how strong he was, how safe she used to feel wrapped up in his arms. There were a few wolf whistles surrounding them, but Y/N had been taken aback from the heat of it so early on, hand slipping between her and the counter to grab at her ass. A surprised moan left her mouth before Niall let out a laugh. 

“Alright, alright. Stop eating her, Harry.” Niall smacked his back, making Harry pull back with a hazy smirk. Almost dopy, making her blink up at him with her eyes narrowing again. His eyes were dark, lips wet now and that dark pink she liked so, so much. He hadn’t shaved today, leaving a bit of stubble around his face, a backwards hat combing his hair back to keep it out of his face. The nose piercing was swapped from a stud to a hoop, making her a bit surprised. Had he done that for her? He knew she liked it….

“You can take your hand off my ass now.” Her sassy tone didn’t match how her eyes looked, secretly loving that he had so publicly claimed her in front of a girl they both knew wanted him. It was a sick feeling, the victory even though she knew it was wrong to feel that way. It was a constant fight with herself. Knowing she should most definitely not be feeling so happy that her ex had just kissed her dumb in front of all his friends, but still liking that she had a claim on him. 

“I could.” He retorted. “But it feels so nice in my palm, and we both know how much you like it.” A squeeze was given, Y/N scowling back up at him but not making any attempt to move. If she wanted to, he would get out of the way- but they both knew how this went. She pretended she didn’t liked his hands on her, he taunted her, they would glare and play fight before it got a little real, and they’d fuck. A circle they’d swung around plenty of times. His lips lowered to her ear, ignoring the chatter around them. “You’re wearing my dress, hm?” 

“Yours? M’sorry, did you want to wear it?” She rose her eyebrow that she definitely hadn’t laid to perfection before she came here. “I forgot you even liked this one. It was the first thing I could reach in my closet.” Her nose was turned up, this time pushing past him to go over to the drinks. She looked down to see a cup with his name scribbled on it with a sharpie, lifting it up for confirmation before throwing it back.

Regretted immediately.

“Ugh- Harry, what the fuck?” She gagged, nose wrinkled as she opened his fridge to grab a bottle of water. “I forgot how disgusting your drinks are. God, how do you even have a stomach?” She gave him a horrified look, swishing the water in her mouth.’

“No one told you to fuckin’ take mine!” He grumbled, taking the cup to find it empty. “Fucks sake, Y/N. Taking my drink and then bitching about it. As usual.” He came up behind her to grab the bottle over the fridge, his ‘good stuff’ or whatever. It was already that time of night? 

Where they started poking at each other to cause a fight. To have an excuse to wander off and to strip down to nothing. 

“Excuse me?” Y/N grit her teeth, turning to look at him as he poured into his recently emptied cup. He was trying to get a rise out of her. 

“You heard me, princess. Know those ears work, considering you’re an eavesdropper.” 

Oh, he was going low. She crinkled the water bottle in her hands, shoulders tending as she exhaled sharply through her nose. “Well I wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t get so fucking weird with your phone. You were the one hiding a ‘project partner’ from me.” Her fingers did air quotes around that, showing that she didn’t believe his excuse. 

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Harry hissed, his own jaw setting. “I told you that she was just a partner for my paper. I didn’t tell you at first because I know you’d overreact and go all insane on me for daring to interact with another woman.” He snarled back, knowing where to hit where it hurt. 

“I wouldn’t have had to be paranoid if you’d respected me to stop flirting and entertaining girls who disrespected our relationship by hitting on you in front of me! You literally encouraged it!” She was trying to keep her voice down, but it was hard. This was an especially sore spot. 

“So replying with a thank you is encouraging it? Sue me for liking that someone complimented me on something!” He raised an arm up, running fingers through his hair in frustration before he turned away to lean on the counter with his arms crossed, cup in hand. “God, you do this every fucking time. We aren’t fucking together anymore, that’s your fault. Why do you continue to harrass me about this? Even if I did encourage it, I never went for it did I?” A cruel smirk emerged. “Though I’m a free agent now, yeah? Could go take Josslyn or Heather up on their offers?

Harry knew he had taken it a bit too far when her breathing caught for real, watching as he froze and her bottom lip trembled. That wasn’t a part of their regular script to wind each other up before hot sex. It was a bit of the real hurt that has blossomed through, but he hadn’t meant to let it out. Her eyes turned glassy, her hand snatching his drink and throwing it at his shirt. 

“Fuck you.” 

Harry felt the cold liquid hit him, hissing as he stood in slight shock as he watched her turn to leave. He had really fucked up. His stomach dropped as he tried to gather his bearings, cursing under his breath before going after her. 

“Y/N! Fuck, don’t go.” He yelled after her, making his way through the throngs of people in his living room, eyes watching her back go towards the door. While he had definitely said fucked up things before, this had been designed to hit where it really hurt. 

Y/N stomped through the living room, ignoring his calls for her as she got closer to the door- closer to escape- when she was caught. Arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her into the bathroom next to the stairs and turning so he was against the door. Y/N kept her back towards him but yanked herself free from his grip, irritated that she was crying. That it still hurts. He knew it would and that’s partially what made it worse. He had been out to hurt her and she had known it was a bad idea to show up tonight but somewhere in her heart she had this tiny, tiny hidden hope that maybe tonight would be a night they could finally get over their differences. She missed him so much it ached if she allowed herself to feel it, but she had tried to refuse her feelings. 

It had boiled over now, though.

Harry swallowed thickly as he heard the sniffle. Y/N wasn’t one to cry about a lot. She hadn’t shed a lot of tears in the time they’d been together, emotionally iron clad as it seemed. When she did? It was unnerving. Heartbreaking. It was one of his least favorite things ever, seeing her crumble. While he may have enjoyed getting her angry and irritated, maybe a little jealous, he never liked hurting her. He gained no pleasure from that. 

“Baby…” He spoke softly, trying to turn her around, hands pulling at her shoulders. He was bigger than her and could definitely turn her around if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t ever touch her in a way she didn’t want. 

“No. You can’t- you can’t call me that anymore. I am not your baby.” She hissed, keeping herself turned from him. Harry winced. She hadn’t said that before, not seriously, but the venom in her voice had shown how upset she was. It was laced with the hoarse blanket that coated her voice when she cried, making it even worse. “You can go call Josslyn or Heather. I’m sure they’d love to be your b-baby.” The end of the sentence was joined with a little sob, effectively breaking his heart further. 

“No. No, I’m not… I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I promise. I was just upset and I didn’t mean for it to come out, I just wanted you to feel-”

“What?” Whipping around, Y/N’s mascara streaked cheeks were a blow to the chest. Her vulnerability was something he used to crave, to be the one she confided in or let herself break with. He wanted to be there for her. Not be the cause of her tears. “You wanted me to feel hurt, like you did? Do you not think I don’t hurt every fucking day?” 

“You broke up with me!” Harry tried, her glare making him stop talking quickly after. 

“I broke up with you because you didn’t take me seriously. How could you go from telling me you can’t wait to put a ring on my finger, can’t wait to have a family with me, to flirting with girls the same night? Do you know how humiliating it is to have your friends tell you that they heard so and so say they were going to try something because it ‘obviously isn’t serious with Y/N?” The incredulous look on her face made him shrink back a bit. 

“I didn’t know that! It was never real flirting, Y/N. I liked to get my ego stroked, the attention felt nice, but I would never, ever step out on you. I love you, for fucks sake!” He went to reach for her but she backed up, flinching slightly. Another dagger to the chest. He had really, really fucked up. She never denied his touch.

“You love me?” A humorless laugh escaped her swollen lips. “Is that how you love people, Harry? Make them feel disposable and humiliated because you can’t be happy with one girl telling you that she loves you back? My compliments weren’t enough?” Arms crossed defensively over her chest. “Give me a fucking break. Telling me that as if you didn’t just say moments ago that you should take up girls who actively disrespected our relationship on their offers to fuck you while you were dating me? Yeah, that’s definitely something someone who loved me would do.” She wanted to stay angry but she was hurt. Hurt so bad, the full weight of their breakup actually hitting her as she felt the sob crawl up her throat and hurried to cover her eyes as she began to cry. It couldn’t be held back. She was at her breaking point.

Harry wanted to throw up. He hadn’t thought of it that way, and honestly? He had never expected this. Sometimes Y/N had acted as if she didn’t have a lot of emotion, reserved and a bit quiet when she expressed herself. The one time he had gotten her to let go was during sex, where he truly felt her desire. That was maybe why he liked the attention from other people. She wasn’t very forthcoming with praise or overly lovey with him, and it had hurt a little. But he could deal with that later, because his poor fucking girl was sobbing in front of him.

“No, no… sweet girl. Please.” He watched as she dropped down to sit on the floor, gathering her knees to her chest as he followed after her. “Hey- M’so sorry. I didn’t think about it like that. I really didn’t. I was just talking out of my ass because I was hurt we’re still broken up a-and I shouldn’t have said anything but….” He sat down fully next to her, pulling her body on to his lap. She tried to squirm at first but he could tell it was half hearted as she settled down a moment later, the sobs wracking her body as his arms wrapped around her and his lips went to her ear. 

“M’so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t ever want to make you feel that way. You’ve always been so important to me and this is breaking my heart.” He whispered. “Hate that you’re crying because of me. I hate that I ever made you doubt that you were important to me, or that I respect you. I do. I promise you, I do.” He whimpered slightly, desperate to get her to believe him. “I’m an ass, I know. But you have to know I do, I love you so much. I’m so fucking sorry for throwing that in your face.” 

In the grand scheme of things, he knew that some people would think she was overreacting- but he understood now. He hadn’t truly meant to take it that far, hadn’t even stopped to think that those exact women had been sources of insecurity. They were the first to pop into his head because he had rejected them again tonight, waiting for Y/N to arrive. 

He never wanted to be broken up with. He had planned on being with her forever, and he had fucked it up. 

Her cries started to fade, sniffles taking the place of sobs as he whispered soft words, consoling her. He knew he’d fucked up tonight, in their relationship. He hadn’t communicated the way he needed to and he played games, but he thought that it would get a different reaction. His intentions weren’t to hurt her. Selfishly, stupidly, he assumed it hadn’t phased her. That she was just angry and not upset. 

If she’d give him another chance he’d fix it. He’d make sure to open her up a little more, make her feel more safe. Reign in his flirting, make sure he was just polite instead. He’d never put their relationship in jeopardy again. “C’mon. Come with me, to my room.” Standing up, he pulled her along with her. It said a lot about her right now that she wasn’t fighting, letting him lead her to his room with her hand tucked in his own. Her face was downcast, making sure no one could see that she’d cried as Harry took the key from his pocket and undid the lock. He really didn’t want strangers in his room.

It was still the same. His navy bedspread and Nirvana posters on the side of his wall, his desk slightly messy with a leftover fast food cup sitting next to his water bottle on his night stand. He’s gotten it for her, because she got thirsty in the middle of the night. 

What really got her attention was the framed photo of them that was right next to it. Her soft smile and his wide one, teeth out as he held her in his lap. His flannel was around her and his hat was backwards as he snuggled her. It had been cool that night but there was a bonfire, not enough seats and a handsy Harry ready to make his lap her throne. Her throat tightened as she looked at the photo, dropping his hand and wrapping her arms around her body to self soothe before she walked up to it. 

“Why do you still have this up?” Her voice was shaky still, looking down at the happy memory. 

“Because I still love you. I told you.” Hands were placed on her hips as she was brought into him, hugging her from behind as he unwrapped her arms and threaded their fingers together. “I know I’ve been shit. I’ve been… impatient, an attention whore, all of the insults you’ve said. But I love you. I have since day one. I’d have never cheated on you, regardless of what you may believe.” The idea of it made him feel ill. 

“Then why?” Her wavering voice made him frown. “Why did you keep flirting with people in my face? I know you said it was cause I wasn’t giving you enough compliments but I didn’t know you thought that.” His heart nearly snapped in two when her voice broke. “I thought the world of you. I was so proud to be with you and then… I thought you just didn’t like me anymore. I know…” A deep inhale was felt as her tummy lifted both of their arms. “I know I can be a little cold or quiet, but I had no idea you felt neglected. I pulled back because you kept talking to other girls how you used to talk to me and… I didn’t feel like it was okay to.”

It made him feel worse. Hearing this now. Y/N had broken up with him and he’d been hurt, his pride making him sneer at her and the nastiness was even more uncalled for now that he knew. Y/N wasn’t a bitch, she wasn’t unfeeling- she didn’t feel safe. He’d done that to her because he was the little bitch here, not giving her the safety she needed in order to open up. While they should’ve been continuing growing, he got his feelings hurt and made it impossible for her to feel like she could give those things to him. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was weak. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it. I didn’t mean it. I promise, nothing I've said is true. I wanted to wind you up, I wanted to fuck you because it was the only way you’d get close to me again. I never intended on making you feel unsafe with me, fuck. That’s the last thing I ever wanted. Makes me feel sick to hear that.” He nuzzled against her neck, placing a kiss there before pulling away, unwrapping them and sitting on the edge of his bed. Y/N wasn’t fighting him, so he gently tugged her to sit on his lap, this time facing him. “There she is.” A sad smile lifted his lips, thumb wiping away the streaks of mascara that had flaked off with her tears. “Still so pretty when you cry, even if it breaks m��heart.” 

It was worse than a kicked puppy. Y/N wasn’t a huge emoter so knowing that he’d done this had made him wonder what she did alone. How many other times he’d made her cry but she wasn’t solid enough around him to do it in front of him. 

“You broke mine.” She whispered, looking down at his shirt. “I don’t mean to be a bitch. I was just scared.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Let me fix it. Please?” Holding her face in his hands, he got her eyes back on his. “Let me make it better. I won’t do any of that ever again, I’ll communicate better… Just let me make your heart feel safe again.”

Y/N knew she was a sucker for this. She shouldn’t say yes. Every part of her except her brain was screaming to stay, though. While her head was telling her to run away as fast as she could, her heart thudded in her chest and her body wanted closer to his own. It was a decision she may come to regret, maybe she’d hate herself for it, but she couldn’t let go. “O-Okay.” She whispered, feeling his head fall against hers. “Please don’t break my heart again, H. I can’t do that again.” 

“I’d rather die.” 

His lips were pressed against hers, and moved quickly from there. 

One of the things that never lacked with them as a couple was sexual chemsitry. It’s what had them so obsessed with each other at first. The best way to get Y/N to express herself was when she was full of cock or close to the edge of orgasm, which was why Harry had no problem saying his apologies between her legs. 

“M’sorry, baby.” He crooned, licking over her drippy slit. “So, so sorry. M’gonna take care of you.” Lips pressed kisses to her clit, a keening whine leaving her lips as fingers clutched his hair and brought him closer to her. His mouth had always been his greatest gift and biggest curse. Somehow he knew all the right things to say, all the right things to do to pleasure her but always stuck his goddamn foot in his mouth. He was going to change that now. 

Dark green gazed into hers as he took another broad lick, the tip of his nose brushing over her clit. Large hands with chipped polish wrapped around her thighs and kept them spread, his hair a mess from her hands carding through it with their hot makeout and now his time spent working on her pussy. This was undoubtable a perk of being with the man, knowing how much he genuinely loved to eat pussy. He’d spend hours licking and sucking on her, making her sensitive and cum over and over again whenever he had the chance. For his birthday he’d genuinely wanted a day inside with her where he spent the majority of his morning eating her for breakfast, her thighs his perfect earmuffs from the snow that happened to fall on the day. 

Whenever they spent time apart he missed this desperately. He’d not even tried to find someone to replace this because he knew the feeling wouldn’t ever be the same. Sure, he’d loved eating pussy before Y/N but it had turned into a full on obsession with her. No one had ever tasted as good, made as many cute noises, squealed when his mouth latched on her clit and his finger curled just right- like he was doing now, holding her bucking hips down. 

“Oh, I know, Mama, I know.” He cooed against her. “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Needed my mouth on this greedy fucking pussy…” Pursing his lips, he spit over her slit and watched it drip with a hiss before usng his tongue to spread it, digits dripping down to his wrist before his tongue trilled over the swollen bud. It didn’t take much to push her over, but a well timed smack against her thigh to get her to stop squirming had done the job. A wet gasp tore from her mouth as she squeale his name, simultaneously pulling his mouth against her and trying to push him away. Using his strength against her, he made sure to lick up a bit before spitting again, leaving her pussy wet and messy as he climbed up her body and kissed her hard. 

His chin was wet and she knew he was a fucking mess but her tongue delved into his mouth, tasting herself on him. She could hear the tug down of his zipper, felt him moving and wiggling his pants down but she was too busy sucking on his tongue and reveling in his moans against her to think twice before she felt the tip of his cock smack against her cunt. 

“I’m clean, baby. No one but you, never need anyone but you.” His grip on her chin was tight as he rutted himself against her cunt. “Even when you were being a miserable bitch t’me, all I wanted to do was love on you. M’gonna make sure you never fucking doubt how much you own me again. This is the only cunt I need.” 

There was sick satisfaction that rolled through him as he slid into her and felt the stretch, watching her mouth fall open as she was filled. It only confirmed what he had hoped- she hadn’t been fucking around much, if at all. Granted, he was thick and long and it would be hard to beat him, but he knew what she felt like when she was well fucked. “Oh, look at that…” He whispered, angling her head down to look at where her pussy lips clung to his cock as he pulled out a bit. “She missed me, didn’t she, baby? Sweet pussy missed my cock so fucking much, doesn’t want me to pull away.” 

Harry was by far the filthiest man she’d ever experienced but that’s part of the appeal. He may be a bit of an asshole, but god, he knew how to fuck. How to kiss. How to make her feel special when he wasn’t being a dickhead. Moments like this always wiped that shit clean, the slate cleared and her head foggy as all she could focus on was how right he was. “Yeah- yeah, don’t take it from me again.” She growled, digging her nails into his skin. “Don’t fucking take my cock from me again, don’t make me walk away. This is mine.” 

Harry hissed, loving the sting on his skin and how she spoke. Y/N could be a fierce little bitch and he loved that about her. She hadn’t been pleased tonight and he’d taken it too far, but she was going to have no doubt how much he had been missing her. Their hate sex had been good, but their makeup sex was even better. “Never, Mama. Never, it’s all yours. You’re right.” His voice soothed, pushing back into her and reveling in how hot she was. Tight. Everything he could possibly need. “It’s yours always, and I don’t want anyone else. Jus’ want you to let me love on you, make you feel good. Be my girl again. He had everything else he wanted, but Y/N was the missing link. He’d fucked up with her, but he wouldn’t do it again. Not when this was how explosive it was between them. 

“You better fucking treat me right.” Her hand held his face now. “Better be so nice to me, buy me f-flowers and hold my hand… Fuck me good, make sure all the other b-bitches know that you’re taken.” Her legs wound around him and he felt a heel surely to bruise his ass, but he didn’t care. “Don’t let them think you’re available because you’re an attention whore.”

Harry moaned at the degrading words, because they were true. He was indeed an attention whore and he’d never deny it. “Only for you, baby. Want all your fucking attention… fuck.” He hissed, thrusting slower as he looked at where they joined. “Creaming on my cock already, really must have missed me.” Noses brushed before he fucked harder into her, trying to bring her to the edge. “Fingers didn’t cut it, did they? No toy can make you feel as good as his. Know that you needed Daddy t’fuck you right.” 

Y/N let out a wail as he tugged her hips up, his face leaving hers to sit on his knees while he fucked her. He was getting the spot she needed, saying the words she wanted and she felt hot all over. Syrupy, sticky hot as she dripped down her ass as the sound of their sex filled his room. The music muffled behind the door didn’t matter, all she wanted to hear was his dirty talk and the sound of their skin. “Yes, I needed it Daddy- Fuck me, fuck me right. You always make me cum over and over…” her head rolled back on the mattress as her fingers found his wrists, grounding herself as he fucked her steady and hard. 

His eyes took in the view of bouncing tits and a messy cock pistoning in and out of her creamy cunt, breathing heavy while he felt her tighten up on him. His goal was always to make sure she came over and over, a generous lover being one of his positive attributes. “Mhm… It’s never changed, Mama. M’gonna give it to you just like that. God, you look so fucking pretty on my dick, baby. Need to capture it.” He adjusted slightly as he took his phone out, thankful his pants had only been down a few inches as he pressed record. A breathy laugh left him as he fucked into her willing body, aiming the camera down at her face. “Say hi to the camera, pretty girl.” He crooned. 

“H-Hi Daddy.” She mewled, preening under the attention. It was a guilty pleasure of hers, knowing he had the filthy images and videos on his phone. It was even better to watch it back and see just how wrecked she got from him. “You’re gonna be nice to me so you- so you don’t have to delete these, right?” He’d had to delete all the videos when they broke up, but she hoped this time they’d get to stick around forever. 

“Of course, my sweet girl. Never gonna fuck this up again… Not when we look so fucking good together. Feel so fucking good together…. Fuck, look at that…” He got a close up of her cunt as it stretched to fit him, clinging to his length. “You’re gonna cum, I can feel it.” His eyes met hers as he started to get her to the edge, her face glistening and eyes hazy. “Go on, baby. Do it. Cum on my cock, make a fucking mess.” 

Harry could feel it as she did, the high pitched whine of his name and the bite of her nails as she writhed on his cock, the camera capturing her face as she did so. Mouth open and eyes rolled back, the blissed out smile following as he fucked her through it. He didn’t stop, tossing the phone to the side as he kissed her again as his cock pulsed, trying to hold back his own orgasm. “Mmm… fuck. I love when you cum on me. So gorgeous, all mine.” He rubbed their noses together again while humping into her, her impossibly hot cunt clinging to him as he peppered kisses to her face. “But I’m not done with you yet.” 

“No?” She grinned, feeling drunk. “Should have known, you sex maniac- fuck.” She pushed his hand away from her cunt. “Give a girl a minute, fucks sake.” 

“Just got you back, can you blame me?” He smiled against her mouth, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. He wanted her to look freshly fucked and glowing tomorrow when she had to meet up with her friends for brunch, sure to piss them off with the news that they’re back together. “Mean it, I’m not letting you go this time. Never again.” His smirk got bigger. “Pussy’s too fucking good.” 

“Shut up, slut.” She pushed his face away playfully. You’ve got more than one orgasm to go until I think about taking you back. Prove your worth to me.” His cock could be felt twitching inside her yet again. 

“Whatever you say, Mama.” He cooed, pulling out of her regretfully. “Now, get on your knees. I’ve got to say sorry to your pretty ass.”