#there's never any pressure to match length

[urdamage]

copper certainly did have a good read on bo , an inkling that was tragically right as he worried that something was up with bo , and that bo might have gone through something terrible in his absence . it only made sense , as copper was a good friend of bo's - despite the lack of contact there had been since bo had suffered the attack - and as bo was now so greatly changed . he still had the same charm to him , so much of bo was still there - even if buried underneath the pain from the trauma - but even so , it would be a lie to say that bo wasn't obviously different . not only had bo been attacked himself , sustaining almost fatal injuries , but he had so many friends who had also been attacked , some whose injuries were fatal , and of course , his fiance - who had been his on and off boyfriend for ten years now - had almost lost his life only six months after bo's attack , prompting the still recovering bo into a carer position when that was far from his strong suit ( though he would do it a million times over for ian ) . in spite of all of that , bo was happy to see copper , and he truly was trying to appear as such .

" totally , " bo nodded , not blaming copper for having kept to himself considering after everything he had been through , bo was hardly out in the community of shrike anymore , at least , nowhere near as much as he had once been . " i'm sure it's a lot to get used to , too , all the changes , " though there were terrible , terrible changes to shrike heights , bo wasn't only meaning them ; the addition of the mall with the killer aspect removed was a great change , and it wasn't the only one that had happened since copper had left . " i'm glad to finally be seeing you though , man , " he told him sincerely , trying to ignore the guilt that weighed him down , trying to focus on the happiness over seeing his friend instead . " that's awesome , dude , i really love it up there . i wonder if you're close to my cabin , " he thought out loud . the turner cabin up in the mountains was technically belonged to bo's estranged parents , but they had grown tired of a vacation spot so close to home , opting to go elsewhere , leaving the cabin as good as bo's - though the arrangement hadn't ever been spoken of . after his attack , heading up to the mountains and staying at the cabin was the first time bo began feeling truly okay again ; he felt safer up there , despite the fact that it was still shrike heights .

" yeah , no , i know ... " he struggled to figure out what to say ; copper was completely right , it wasn't like bo to have given up on the sport , but it was so ... hard , to say the very least . his experience at the pool had been so traumatic , and to be so fully immersed in water gave him a sinking feeling that he couldn't quite shake , a feeling similar to when he was legitimately sinking , bleeding out and damaging his lungs with his desperate attempt at finding air despite being completely submerged . to even think about it was difficult , and things didn't get easier as copper asked him explicitly if something had happened . " a lot's been happening , man , " he answered vaguely , trying to keep the smile on his face , despite displaying other troubling signs such as aversion to eye contact , and a hand coming up so that bo could briefly chew on his already short fingernail before forcing himself out of the bad habit . " it's not all bad , though , " he tried to add for reassurance , not wanting to be so ominously vague , not wanting to worry copper even more .

' i'm not going to leave the people i care about behind when all of this is going on ' - good , copper already knew what was going on , then . bo couldn't have been sure , and even though after copper's questioning he had a feeling that he'd have to admit that he had been attacked , it all felt easier knowing that copper had some preexisting knowledge . nothing felt easy with the urgency in which copper asked what happened . " i had a ... pretty shitty experience , " he shook his head , stalling not because it felt good to hide the truth from copper , but only because he didn't know how to break the news ; it was a life changing event that bo had been through , one that he was still dealing with almost two years later , so understandably it wasn't the easiest thing to simply put out there into conversation . " a few , actually , i guess . some - well not better than others , but ... different ... " things felt no easier when he managed to divert the conversation away from his own trauma , and unknowingly to copper's .

" oh . fuck , oh , " he shook his head , wide apologetic eyes ; you'd think bo would be better at speaking of death after how much of it he had encountered over the past couple of years . at first bo had only thought that the two must have split , but to hear that deacon had passed away , it was a jarring shock ; it only went to prove that no one could grow used to the concept of losing loved ones . " i'm so sorry , cops , i - " bo shook his head , at a loss for words . " i don't even know what to say - which feels stupid , it feels like i should know what to say after what i went through but ... fuck , copper . i'm really am , so sorry to hear that ... " he unintentionally mentioned his own experience with someone who would have finished bo off too , if they had had their way , similar enough to copper's experience . " i - " unsure as to what to do , or what to say , bo pulled copper in for another hug , feeling his own body begin to shake over the intensity of the conversation , the thoughts of his own terrible experience , and the news of deacon's passing .

Even though Bo didn't say anything about it, Copper thought he could tell what his friend was thinking. It was like the elephant in the room, this unspoken thing, the fact that the two of them had drifted despite previously having such a strong friendship. But all it took was one look at his friend for Copper to know that Bo hadn't iced him out on purpose, or at least not because he wanted to. It was like Copper could read Bo like a book, like he could tell that the man had been through something traumatic, and fuck, that was something Copper could definitely relate to. Thinking about the attacks, Copper wondered if Bo had known anyone who had been hurt or killed, or worse, if Bo himself had been a target. The thought of that being the case made Copper unspeakably angry - how dare anyone hurt the people he loved. But Copper didn't want to mistake Copper's anger and think it was directed at him, so Copper smiled at Bo, looking into his eyes and hoping he could convey that it was okay. "Good," he replied, "I was hoping for that. Just before I hugged you without warning, I worried that I might scare you, but I was already mid-hug, and it was too late." And then Copper laughed, grinning at his friend.

Nodding, Copper replied, "Yeah, I've kind of been...keeping to myself while getting back on my feet." That was the truth - after so long alone, being with people again was a bit of a shock to the system, and it had taken him some time to get acclimated again. But Copper didn't want to go into that with Bo; he didn't want to depress him. Again he nodded, focusing more on the cabin now. "Yeah, up in the mountains," Copper confirmed. "It's kind of cool being up there alone, but also kind of creepy." When he'd rented the place, Copper hadn't known about the attacks yet, and he wondered if he'd make another choice had he known. But Copper was ultimately fine with it because he liked the isolation, having a place to go when everything got to be too much. As he listened to Bo, he knew right away that something was eating at Bo, and Copper's smile fell away. "You haven't been swimming?" Copper asked, and it was like his brain couldn't compute this. "Really? That's...not like you." For another moment, Copper just looked at Bo, and he had to ask: "Bo...did something happen?" But Copper felt like he already had his answer, or part of it at least.

When Bo asked if he was back for good, Copper smiled again because he could tell this was the good kind of surprise. "Yeah, back for good," Copper replied with a nod. "There are...a lot of reasons why I came back, and even more why I plan to stay. Only one of those reasons is because I'm not going to leave the people I care about behind when all of this is going on." He could tell again that something was bothering Bo, and Copper felt a sinking sensation deep in his gut as it all started to click into place. "Bo, what happened?" he asked again more urgently. Copper noticed the ring on Bo's finger, and it was like he realized he had his own wedding ring on. Sometimes Copper put it on without thinking, and today was one of those days; he began to absentmindedly twirl it around his finger, but before Copper could ask about the ring on Bo's, it was his turn t feel like someone had punched him in the stomach, for all the air to go out of him. Copper couldn't not tell Bo, but he was having trouble forming the words, his throat feeling tight. When he managed to finally speak, his voice was thick as he answered, "Deacon isn't here." For a few seconds, Copper didn't elaborate, and then finally he just came out with it: "Deacon is dead actually," Copper told Bo quietly, trying to keep himself composed. "He uh...something happened in Seattle a year ago, or I guess someone happened, and now it's just me, though if that someone had their way, I'd be gone too." That was all Copper could say for the moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

[onismdaydream]

a collection of drabbles of jujutsu kaisen characters based on nsfw twitter videos

✧˖°. — volume 1 [ ft. megumi, yuji, nanami ]

viewer discretion is advised: fem/afab reader. aged up characters. unprotected sex, p in v, creampies, slight breeding kink [m. f.] | teasing, handjob, soft smut, m. sub [y. i.] | fingering, dirty talk, pet names, soft m. dom [k. n.]

✧˖°. — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO (episode 1)

“baby,” megumi groaned, his hands squeezing roughly at your hips. “gotta stop doing that or i’ll cum.”

you felt so good around him, your tight walls clamping around his cock and dragging out low moans as megumi bit his bottom lip. lewd sounds echoed, skin smacking against skin and the squelching of your dripping cunt made the room even hotter. he could feel the sweat beading at his hairline, some of his dark strands already sticking to his face.

“it's okay. you can cum.” your voice is so sultry, so tempting as you bounce yourself on his lap, your breasts following the movement.

“‘m not wearing a condom, remember?” how could you forget though? feeling him raw was always the best for you, you could feel how hot his cock was, could feel each vein drag along your walls — and it's not like he ever complained about it either. but megumi would always pull out, choosing to release his load on your body instead of inside.

but you needed to feel him fill you up, wanted to feel him claim you entirely. “please, ‘gumi, cum in me. promise it's okay.”

“s-shit…” he breathed out, lips parted as he panted and watched you fuck yourself faster. you looked beautiful, so desperate as you kept whining and whispering little pleas. “can't. gotta pull out…”

but his hands were grabbing at any part of your body he could, groping your tits and holding your waist, not even trying to push you away. you could feel him twitching inside you, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to stave off his impending orgasm.

“please, wanna be filled. pleasepleaseplease,” you begged, practically crying for a creampie with the tears forming at your lash line. it felt so right the way megumi was deep inside you, you can't imagine him pulling out and leaving you empty and aching. “need it so bad.”

megumi wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him so he could plant his feet on the bed and thrust into you, setting a new and harsh pace as he chased his high. there was no way he could deny you, especially when your pussy felt this perfect. “shit, yeah, gonna cum, gonna fill you up.”

✧˖°. — YUJI ITADORI (episode 2)

yuji couldn't help the way his hips bucked up, abs twitching and fingers flexing at the thin sheets underneath him. even with your thigh draped across his lap, he just could not stay still. every small movement made his entire body jump.

“does it feel good, baby?” you coo, fingers circling and rubbing over his cock head. the answer was obvious, a wet spot was forming at the band of his briefs and quiet moans kept leaving his throat, but you liked hearing it from him anyway.

“y-yeah,” yuji choked out, “feels really good.”

you hum, eyes flickering up to his face to see it twisted in pleasure. yuji always looked so cute like this, his cheeks flushing to match his hair and pretty lips parted as he panted. your hand continued to tease him, slowly drifting up and down his length, the occasional bit of pressure making him whine. 

you could feel his cock kicking underneath his underwear, each graze of your gentle touch adding to the damp patch on the fabric.

“you’re making a mess, yuji,” you tease, a sly smile pulling at your lips as you press on his sensitive tip. “look how wet you are.” 

“oh fuck…” he moaned, eyes rolling back and hips lifting off the mattress.

“so cute.” your hand moves down, cupping his balls and fondling them to make him squirm underneath you. he was so reactive, and it never failed to make you leak your own arousal. 

“gonna make me c-cum,” he gasped, voice hitching when you squeezed his shaft, “if you keep doing that.”

“it's okay, baby,” you pressed a soft kiss to his pink cheek, his skin warm to the touch. “you can come whenever you want.”

✧˖°. — KENTO NANAMI (episode 3)

"you're doing so good, baby," his voice was smooth, deep in that way that makes you just melt into him, makes you do anything he said. though he would never take advantage of that. nanami was far too sweet and caring — too soft. but that doesn't mean he couldn’t treat you the way you deserve. he knew exactly what you need.

laying down on the bed, stripped down completely as nanami pressed two of his fingers deep inside your pussy, curling them just right to make you whine. he was still dressed in his work clothes, jacket discarded and tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, biceps flexing in the tight material. he didn't want to waste any time.

"k-kento," you gasped, your hands gripping at the sheets underneath you, knuckles turning white as you try your best to stay still. it's impossible, though, your body squirming and hips rising when his thumb brushed over your swollen clit.

"i know, darling," his fingers resumed to simply pumping in and out of you, a lazy rhythm that allowed you to suck in a shaky breath. "but you can handle it, can't you?"

it's not much of a question. he knew your body so well, like the back of his own hand, like it's an extension of his own flesh and bones. nanami knows when you hit your limit even if you don't — and he knows when he can push further.

you nodded your head regardless, biting your bottom lip to stifle any noises as he eased his other fingers, stretching you out even further. the slight discomfort was nothing you couldn't deal with, especially when he pressed against that spot and made more slick drip from your pussy.

“such a good girl for me, hm?” his fingers were so much bigger than your own, reaching further than you could. they were covered in your arousal, too, glistening and shining each time he pulled them out.

you could barely think, could barely do anything other than whine and cry, with the nearly pornographic sounds of his fingers fucking into you. you didn't even know you could get this wet.

“look at you, taking my fingers so well.”

[myladybelle]

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | chapter thirteen

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: art donaldson x female!reader x patrick zweig 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve always been content being second place to your best friend tashi duncan, waiting for the day you can quit tennis. your world is upended when you meet art and patrick, and you’re forced to embrace a life in the sport you’ve been too afraid to claim for yourself. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.7k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): challengers content warnings, descriptions of anxiety, swearing, use of y/n 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hi my loves i’m back!! thank you all for your patience while i was sick and preparing for the new semester, i appreciate all your kind messages so much x 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝐖𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒’ 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 – 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟑, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎 

“Newcomer on the professional tennis scene, Y/N Y/L/N surprised virtually everyone when she won the Ladies’ Semi Final two days ago,” an English-accented sports journalist said on TV as you waited for your cue to step onto the court for the finals. “She’s not only the most technically excellent player of her age, but she has the fastest serve on the WTA tour.”

“She’s a remarkable player,” the other journalist agreed. You watched them play back a clip from your most recent match, highlighting one of your aces. “But if she wants to win on Centre Court here at Wimbledon for the very first time, she’s going to have to start embracing her volleys. Maybe she should take a leaf out of her boyfriend’s book.”

“Patrick Zweig? He only made it to the second round!”

“Yes, but he played some very entertaining tennis this week. It was a joy to watch and very well suited to a grass court!” 

“It’s true, Zweig plays a sneaky game of tennis. He keeps his opponent on his feet.” 

“In any case, the whole world is sure to be watching Y/N Y/L/N tonight, eager to see her take on Anna Mueller.”

“Now, this isn’t the first time Y/L/N and Mueller have played. They faced off numerous times in junior tournaments, and Y/L/N already beat her at Indian Wells, Milan, Roland-Garros, and the US Open last year. They have yet to play each other in a final, though, and Y/L/N has no grand slam titles to Mueller’s two.”

“Will it be experience and longevity that give Mueller the win, or will new talent Y/L/N take the match with precision and speed?”

“We will soon see.”

You had never been this nervous before a match until your second time at Wimbledon. 

For the first time in your professional career, just a year and a half after entering the tennis world, you made it to the final round of a grand slam tournament. The other tournaments you had won within the last year put your name on the map, allowing you to garner attention and recognition from your peers and spectators.

But a grand slam title meant you would be a part of history.

It was everything you wanted, everything you worked and struggled for. Your heart pounded so quickly that you thought it might leap out of your skin, and your quickening breath made spots appear in your vision. The pressure mounted, not just because your life goal was an arm’s length away, but from all the people who had their eyes on you. Some scrutinising, some rooting for you. 

Bracing your hands on your thighs, you closed your eyes and tried to breathe deeply. It felt like you were losing control. Everything you did to maintain your anxiety felt like it was slipping through your fingers, just like your dream of becoming a grand slam winner. 

Tashi’s voice rang in your ears. You’re going to be fucking miserable, and you’re going to hate your life just as much as your mother hates the fact that she had you. Art’s voice joined Tashi. Everyone knows that tennis is more of a mental game than a physical game. You have a lot of anxiety, and…

The sound of your phone getting a text message interrupted your tornado of negative thoughts. 

PAT 💞: Don’t listen to any of those assholes, they don’t matter. I love you so much and I’m proud of you no matter what happens today. Hold your head up high and do your best, nothing else matters. Don’t forget to breathe, pretty girl. P x

As you stepped onto the court, the cheers of the crowd were deafening. You could feel the vibrations of their applause through the soles of your shoes; the energy was electric, and the buzzing of quiet chatter set you on edge. Remembering Patrick’s advice, you breathed deeply and waved to the crowd, smiling as you headed for your bench. Everyone on your team was sitting in the player’s box with Patrick and your dad, and it was a relief to see them there supporting you. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this final round match. This match will be played as the best of three sets,” the umpire said. “To the left of the chair, from Switzerland, Anna Mueller. To the right of the chair, from the United States, Y/N Y/L/N. Y/L/N won the toss and elected to serve.”

From his seat in your box, Patrick chuckled. “I bet Anna Mueller’s terrified right now,” he commented. “Going into a match against Y/N and having her serve first would push me over the edge if I was playing her.” 

Next to Patrick, your father happily declared, “If Mueller wasn’t nervous to play Y/N before, she will be once she realises how many aces she has up her sleeve.”

Mueller crouched behind the baseline, nervously twirling her racket between her hands. Her poker face wasn’t nearly as good as yours, betraying her fear as you bounced the ball and prepared to serve. Knowing that you had this effect on your opponent, even before the game had started, made you feel powerful. 

With a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins, you tossed the ball in the air and served it over the tennis net. Mueller ran in the wrong direction, expecting you to serve to her backhand, and cursed when she couldn’t change courses fast enough to return the ball.

Your first ace of the game. 15-love.

Mueller played nervously. She knew your baseline game was strong, but her mistake was assuming that you could only play from the baseline. You decided to play closer to the net, consistently hitting gently when Mueller expected you to go hard and fast, making it impossible for her to generate the power needed to return well.

When you took the first set 6-0, Mueller cursed and turned to her box to yell something at her coach. During the changeover, you could hear her muttering to herself, failing to compose her posture and expression. She looked panicked and angry. From experience, you knew that the right amount of anxiety could help you focus on the match, but anger would destroy a player’s self-control and concentration.

When you served an ace at the beginning of the next set, Mueller stomped her foot angrily and challenged the call. The call held up, declaring your serve was in and awarding you the point. You watched in shock as Mueller’s face twisted with fury, her eyes blazing as she smashed her racket against the ground. Over and over again, the crowd gasped and booed as the frame cracked and the strings bent out of shape. 

“Code violation, racket abuse. Warning, Mueller.” 

From his seat, Patrick smirked, applauding the action while you maintained professionalism. He was the type of player who occasionally broke his racket or committed other code violations, so Patrick admired your ability to hold back. There was something rewarding about watching your opponent fall apart as you waited for her to get it together so you could keep playing. 

The atmosphere of the game changed after Mueller’s outburst. Releasing her anger had done Mueller well, and one of her backhands shot forth like a lightning bolt, making it impossible for you to return. She got a few points in, making you run for it. Sweat glistened on your brows, and your heart pounded, a steady drum beat that echoed the rhythm of your feet as you struggled to return some of Mueller’s balls. The crowd watched in awe as she started finding her rhythm, pushing through the fatigue with a newfound unwavering focus. 

Mueller looked incredibly smug to have caught up with you. So, you let her win a little bit. 

Your father frowned when you served into the net twice, giving Mueller the point. “What’s she doing?” he muttered quietly. “Are the nerves getting to her?”

Patrick shook his head, chuckling as he realised, “She’s throwing the set on purpose.” A smirk graced his lips when he remembered how you used to do the same thing when you played Tashi. “She wants Mueller to think she’s beating her.”

You let yourself enjoy it, toying with Mueller and never letting her know what you planned next. When you volleyed the ball back to her, she sprinted to the net. Just when she got used to playing close to the net, you hit a flat groundstroke past her. Once Mueller realised your pattern, she stayed closer to the baseline, and you hit her with your drop shots, far too close to the net for her to return.

Quickly, you caught up, 7-7. You needed one last game to win the match, and it was your turn to serve. 

Two aces in a row. Mueller yelled in frustration and anger when she missed both serves, once to her forehand and once to her backhand. Your focus sharpened with each passing moment. Serving was your area of expertise. You had the match exactly where you wanted it. 

With each point you won, your confidence grew. Your movements were fluid and instinctive; your racket felt like an extension of your arm, sending powerful, precise shots that left Mueller scrambling to return them. Like always, your serves were lightning fast, unerring and spectacular, kissing the line every time without fail. 

Mueller chased down every ball, but exhaustion was setting in, and her anger had returned. She was irritated that you had let her win, annoyed that it had boosted her ego so much, and furious that she couldn’t get in your head the way you got in hers. 

You were playing the best tennis of your life, each moment a testament to your skill and resilience over the years. The beauty of your game captivated the spectators, leaving the crowd in awe of your mesmerising strokes and masterful returns. The more points you won, the closer you got to winning the tournament. Tension and excitement were palpable, mounting in a crescendo of enthusiastic applause and standing ovations.

“Match point.” 

The cacophony of cheers faded into the background as you bounced the ball in your hand. You were good at keeping the pressure of winning off your shoulders, but the enormity of this point pressed down on you heavily. With your stomach in knots, you adjusted your grip on your tennis racket. Amid all the stress, anxiety, and fear, you felt a spark of determination. 

You didn’t just want to win; you deserved it. 

You served her backhand, which Mueller anticipated and hit back with equal intensity. The ball hit the ground awkwardly on your side of the net, creating minimal bounce with little power. Regardless, you hit it hard. As the two of you rallied back and forth, you followed the sports journalist from earlier’s advice and used a trick shot Patrick had taught you. When Mueller hit your forehand, you pretended to miss the ball. She celebrated, prematurely stopping while you hit the ball back between your legs, surprising Mueller and making her trip as she tried to return the ball. 

As Mueller landed on the floor, the ball bounced on her side of the net for a second time, earning you the point and the Wimbledon Ladies’ Singles title. 

An overwhelming surge of triumph and disbelief hit you all at once. Your ears rang, drowning out the cacophony of the crowd’s ecstatic roars as you collapsed to your knees, dropping your racket. The weight of victory crashed upon you, and tears streamed down your face as you sobbed. Each teardrop released the intense pressure and emotion you had carried through the gruelling tournament. 

You cried for your mother, who you no longer needed to please; for Tashi, your former best friend who would not be here to celebrate this moment with you; and you cried for yourself, the person who got through it all and made it to the other side. 

When you wiped the tears from your cheeks and stood to shake your opponent’s hand, the world around you blurred back into focus. The cheers and applause of the crowd went from being a distant echo to a deafening roar. Mueller barely touched your hand before going to shake the umpire’s and—for a brief, solitary moment—you were enveloped by a profound sense of accomplishment. 

You did it.

After waving to the crowd and thanking the umpire, you turned to your player’s box. There, Patrick stood applauding your victory. His heart swelled with immeasurable pride and love for you, feeling an overwhelming admiration for your strength and dedication. You laughed, running across the court towards the box and excusing yourself as you squeezed past ball boys and line judges. Stepping up on one of the nearby benches, you lifted yourself closer to your boyfriend, who leaned over the railing, giggling.

Up close, Patrick’s eyes were misty, and a broad, genuine smile spread across his face. Every sacrifice you made, every early morning and late night, came rushing back to him in a flood of memories. He could hardly contain his excitement. 

“You just fucking won Wimbledon!” Patrick yelled. “You were incredible!”

“I love you,” you replied, equally breathless and giddy. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Pat.” 

Pushing up on your toes, you hooked your arms around Patrick’s shoulders and kissed him. The crowd cheered even louder around you, but you didn’t care. Nothing and nobody else mattered at that moment. All you knew was that you had just achieved something incredible and Patrick was the only person you wanted to celebrate it with. He held your head carefully and kissed you hard, expressing his passionate pride with every press of his lips.

“Thank you. For reminding me to breathe,” you acknowledged when you parted, gazing up at your boyfriend with sparkling eyes. “And for teaching me your favourite trick shot.”

Patrick chuckled, taking one of your hands and pressing several kisses to the back of it. “That was all you, gorgeous. I had nothing to do with it. This win belongs to you,” he said sincerely. “Fuck, I love you, pretty girl.”

Art Donaldson stood in the crowd, his heart heavy with pride and melancholy as he watched you give Patrick a final kiss before returning to the court for your interview. It was a privilege to watch every powerful swing of your racket and every point you earned. Art was reminded of the countless hours you had poured into your practice, the determination that had always driven you while you were at Stanford. He had once been the one to share in those moments of victory with you, celebrating every win with the joy you now showed on the court. 

But now, as Art saw the happiness in your eyes and heard the crowd’s cheers, a wave of sadness washed over him. He was no longer part of your triumphs. He was just another face in the sea of supporters, knowing your victory wouldn’t be shared with him.

Art’s gaze flickered between you standing on the court and Patrick sitting with your father in the player’s box. His former best friend looked happier than Art had ever seen him, and knowing that your memory of this day would always be intertwined with your relationship with Patrick filled Art with an ugly jealousy. 

He knew he had no right to your life and joy, but Art wanted to celebrate with you. He wanted to tell you that he was proud of you and always knew you had the talent and perseverance to succeed. In fact, there were a lot of things Art wanted to say, including a sincere apology for what he said the night you broke up. But you had moved on, and you were happy, and the last thing Art wanted to do was ruin any of that for you. 

So instead, Art got up and pushed through the crowd, making his way to the exit as he heard your voice thanking Patrick for his love and support over the loudspeakers.

𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 – 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟏𝟑, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

It felt good. 

Sitting in the booth with Tashi was almost like when Art used to sit in the dining hall with her at Stanford, back when you, Art, and Tashi were all attached at the hip.

A month ago, Art and Tashi graduated and began working in the professional tennis world, but it meant nothing to either of them without their best friends by their sides. Neither of them could have guessed that you and Patrick would leave behind such a huge hole when you stopped being friends with them.

“Maybe you wanna jump ship?” Art said, half-joking as he signed the bill and paid for their meal. “Come be my assistant coach?” When Tashi stared dumbfoundedly at him, he grinned. “Oh, I get it. You want to work with someone who has a little bit more potential.” 

“No!” Tashi protested. “No. No, it’s not that. I mean, you have plenty of potential. It’s just–” she cut herself off, nervously observing the blond sitting in front of her. It had been years since you and Art broke up, but it felt like yesterday. “You think that would be a good idea?” 

“Why not?” Art retorted. Tashi gestured vaguely, referencing their complex shared past. “That was a long time ago–” 

“–It was not that long ago,” she disagreed, interrupting Art’s attempt at nonchalance. 

“Well, it feels like a long time ago,” Art mumbled. 

“So, you’re saying you’re not in love with her anymore?” Tashi argued, raising a questioning eyebrow at her old friend. 

Art schooled his expression, not wanting to give his lingering emotions away. But Tashi saw through it, recognising the familiar signs that indicated his love for you still ran deep. His features softened at the mention of you, and there was a faraway look in his icy blue eyes.

Back when you were dating Art—and Tashi and Patrick were casually seeing each other—Patrick used to describe the look on his best friend’s face when he first laid eyes on you. That look of pure, absolute adoration and love never once faded from Art’s face at the mention or sight of you. Tashi knew with certainty that it would never fade.

“Well, I’m not holding my breath waiting for her,” Art retorted. “That ship has clearly sailed.”

“Doesn’t mean you aren’t clutching the hull for dear life,” Tashi remarked, using Art’s ship analogy against him. “Did you see her at Wimbledon?”

“Of course I did,” Art replied, fiddling anxiously with the napkin on the table. 

“She was incredible, wasn’t she? I mean, I always knew she had it in her, but watching her win that final…” Tashi sighed.

If she was as good a friend to you as she always thought, she would have noticed that you used to hold back to help Tashi pursue her dreams of being the best tennis player in the world. Upon reflection, Tashi realised she would never be as good a friend to you as you were to her, and she should never have considered you to be less talented, hard-working, or capable than herself.

“It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” Tashi said proudly.

Art agreed, “She’s officially a grand slam winner, the whole world was watching her that day.”

Tashi nodded. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” Her lips curved in a disappointed frown, recalling all the times you and Tashi promised you would always be there to celebrate each others’ accomplishments when you were teenagers. “All of a sudden, the whole world feels entitled to a part of her. Instead of going through this journey with her, we’re on the outside looking in, just like everybody else.”

“It was pretty surreal,” Art affirmed. “I mean, I always knew what she was capable of. I remember all those late nights, talking about what she would do if she ever won a grand slam. And now that she has, I can’t help but feel a little lost.”

“Like you should be there with her,” Tashi guessed. She gave Art a sympathetic smile, her eyes soft with understanding. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Art sighed, leaning back in his booth. “We used to be the people who knew her best in the world,” he recalled. “And now, we aren’t a part of her life anymore. It’s not just about tennis or success, it’s about her. She didn’t just hold us all together, she was seeped into the essence of everything I did and everything I dreamed.” The vulnerable honesty in Art’s voice made Tashi swallow harshly. “What am I supposed to do without her now? None of my plans ever accounted for me reaching this point in my life without her in it.”

Art’s words rendered them both silent.

You used to take up so much space in their lives, filling a void neither of them knew existed until you left them. Thinking about you and reflecting on your absence was always bittersweet. There was so much warmth and joy in their memories of you, but they were constantly paired with painful reminders of how much they hurt you. You, who only ever wanted to love and be loved. 

“Maybe this is what we deserve for hurting her in the first place,” Tashi offered. “The things I said to her that day–” she inhaled sharply, pain filling her chest as she recalled the argument that ended your friendship– “I don’t blame her for wanting nothing to do with me.”

“The look on her face when I told her I went to see you the night you fought…” Art shook his head in disappointment, his jaw clenched tightly as the frustration simmered beneath the surface. “I should have told her I went to confront you for hurting her. I should have told her I was desperate to figure out why she was inconsolable, but I let her believe I went to you because I was on your side. I was so angry and frustrated during the break up that I told her things just because I knew they would hurt her. Who does that to someone they love?”

“Us, apparently,” Tashi said, grumbling like she couldn’t believe what they did to you. Reaching across the table, Tashi covered Art’s hand with hers, offering a small, bittersweet smile. “My mom says that Y/N was my life lesson,” she explained. “That losing her was supposed to teach me something.”

“Yeah?” Art met her eyes and frowned. “What did it teach you?”

“To hold on,” Tashi declared. “When you meet someone like her, someone who’s warm and loving and far kinder to you than you deserve, you hold on to her. Because going through life without her is unimaginably worse than when she’s by your side.” 

It hurt to reflect on how much worse life was without you. You had been everything to Art for so long, and his eyes stung with tears every time he thought of you. The emptiness you left behind felt insurmountable, a constant ache he couldn’t escape. Every moment without you reminded him of what he’d lost, of how your presence had once filled his world with light and purpose.

Now, that light was gone, leaving him to navigate the shadows of what used to be; the pain of your absence was a relentless companion.

Art pulled his hand away and cleared his throat, staring at his lap. “This is really stupid, but, uh… After your injury… I couldn’t help but just think about what would have happened if I had beaten Patrick,” he confessed. 

Tashi froze at the mention of how you met Art and Patrick. 

She knew Art well enough to understand that everything he did led back to you and how he lost you. No matter how badly Art wanted to change the past, Tashi knew you would always love him and Patrick throughout your life. 

In a way, Tashi, Art, and Patrick were the three great loves of your life.

One for a friendship that was supposed to last a lifetime, one for the boy who made you realise what it was like to be loved, and one for the man who would wait a lifetime just for a minute of happiness with you.

No matter how much you once loved Art, Tashi knew you would love Patrick in every life, too. It didn’t matter what order you met them in; you were the catalyst that changed each of their lives. 

Tashi thought she was the only objective spectator to your relationships with Art and Patrick. She was your best friend at Stanford when you dated Art, and she was practically a stranger now that you were with Patrick. Watching your romantic relationship unfold on TV and in newspapers and magazines was entirely different from having a front-row seat back in college, but Tashi knew you well enough to see how deeply and genuinely you loved Patrick, just as you had loved Art.

“So you want me to join your team because you couldn’t win Y/N’s number that day?”

Art lifted his head to meet Tashi’s gaze. “No,” he denied. “I want you to join my team because I want to win.”

Tashi suppressed a grin. She should have known that if it wasn’t about you, it was about Patrick. “I think you’d beat him now if you guys played,” she commented, sipping her coffee. “Don’t you think?” 

It was a challenge that Tashi knew Art would easily see through. 

Perhaps Art could beat Patrick if their history wasn’t complicated by you entering their lives. If the two of them were just best friends trying to make it in the tennis world, Art had the skills, practice, and tenacity to win now. After all, he had dedicated himself to the sport at Stanford and had an excellent team supporting him, while Patrick continued to rely on raw talent. As Art steadily climbed the ranks with every game, Patrick floundered somewhere in the lower 200s. 

But all of this was negated by one simple fact. Patrick had the one thing that Art truly wanted: you. 

If Art and Patrick played a match tomorrow, you would be in Patrick’s player box, cheering his name and applauding his wins. Your presence at the match—and in Patrick’s life—would be more than enough for Art to lose every time he faced his former best friend, just as he lost you. The only thing that could give Art a chance to beat Patrick would be having you on his side. 

“Don’t know,” Art replied cryptically. “We, uh… haven’t played professionally, and don’t keep in touch.” Tashi laughed, nearly choking on her coffee. “What?” 

She cleared her throat. “Just… She never saw it,” Tashi explained. “The rivalry between you and Patrick. Ever since that night we first met, she always assumed the two of you were after me.” She shook her head, visibly entertained. “She used to say that I was the sun and she was the moon. But, God, wasn’t she just everything? The moon and the stars and everything in between, that was her.” Tashi and Art shared a soft, sentimental expression. “I never understood why she couldn’t see it. Everything was over the moment you and Patrick met her, and I knew none of us would ever be the same.”

A small smile stretched across Art’s lips. “Yeah…” 

Tashi was right—you had been everything to him. 

Art felt it the moment his eyes first met yours, an instant connection that went beyond mere attraction. It was as if something within him recognised you, a deep and undeniable pull that resonated in both his body and heart. It wasn’t just about your smile or how you moved; it was how your presence seemed to complete something in him, filling a void he hadn’t even known existed.

You became his anchor, the one person who made everything else make sense, and from that moment on, he knew his life would never be the same without you.

“We joked that we weren’t homewreckers the night we met you, but…” Tashi trailed off, sighing as she set her mug on the table and crossed her arms. “I never thought it would come between me and her. I always thought I was a better friend than that. And I hate it, but running into you today is the closest I’ve felt to her in years,” she confessed.

Sitting there opposite your former best friend, Art couldn’t help but agree. So many parts of you lived on in Tashi, remnants of your lifelong friendship that had shaped both of you in ways he could now see clearly. The way she tilted her head when deep in thought mirrored your own, a habit you’d both picked up during your countless late-night conversations. That amused, all-knowing expression on Tashi’s face when Art tried to lie to her was uncannily similar to yours. 

Even her choice of words, the little phrases and inside jokes that only you two shared, brought you vividly to life at that moment, making it feel like a part of you was still there, sitting right across from Art.

“Yeah, me too,” Art agreed, trying to keep the sudden gust of sadness out of his tone. 

To make matters worse, seeing Tashi was the closest Art had felt to you and Patrick in a very long time. 

It brought back memories of his former best friend, who had once been his world. There was a time when the four of you felt inseparable, and now, sitting there, Art could almost hear the echoes of those days. The way Tashi absentmindedly rubbed her forearm was like Patrick used to, a nervous habit that always surfaced during serious conversations. Tashi’s honest recount of how much she missed you felt like a mirror image of how much Art missed Patrick. Being with Tashi now, it was impossible not to feel the empty space left by the absence of the friendships that had once defined them both.

That night, as Tashi stepped into Art’s hotel room, the invisible string that still bound them both to you seemed to tighten, pulling them a little closer to where you slept just a few floors away.

𝟐 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐒 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 – 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟐𝟖, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

“I just got off the phone with Elora,” you declared, stepping into your shared hotel room with Patrick and finding your boyfriend lounging on the bed with the TV on. “I’ve been asked to play an exhibition match tomorrow. Just something quick and fun before the first round to boost ticket sales for the qualifiers. A bunch of American players from the tour will be there.”

You dropped onto the bed beside Patrick, kicking off your shoes and curling up in his awaiting arms. The two of you had been travelling together for over a year, sharing rooms while on tour and cohabitating in every aspect of your lives. It was like a reward after enduring a long-distance relationship during your final year at Stanford. Instead of just talking on the phone and occasionally getting surprise visits from Patrick, you went everywhere together and supported each other at every match and tournament you attended.

The two of you had slipped into an easy routine. Having the same profession meant that you were constantly going to the same places, and it made travelling and sightseeing so much more special. After working hard for over two weeks at each tournament, exploring new cities with Patrick was the ideal way to wind down and relax. There was something incredibly special and romantic about doing every day of your life with him.

Your relationship had been grabbing headlines ever since the press caught on to the fact that you were together over a year ago, but the attention ramped up exponentially after you won Wimbledon.

What used to be short articles about an up-and-coming, attractive couple in the tennis world had snowballed into detailed timelines of your dates and public appearances with Patrick. Luckily, the public adored you, and there was very little criticism or negativity surrounding your relationship. Other players on the WTA and ATP tour often teased you about being real celebrities, pointing out how rare it was to win public favour as much as you and Patrick did.

Even though this shift was odd, and you had yet to get used to the constant eyes on you, there were perks to having your picture taken professionally every time you went on a date with your boyfriend. You had framed your favourite newspaper clipping, a beautiful picture of you kissing Patrick after winning Wimbledon, with the heading The Darlings of the Tennis World written above it in a large, bold font.

“Great,” Patrick drawled, blinking lazily as he wrapped his arms around you. His hands gravitated under your shirt to draw circles on the bare skin of your midriff, immediately sending butterflies to your stomach. “Which unlucky girl’s getting her ass handed to her while you beat her in straight sets?” he joked, knowing any match you played would end in a crushing defeat for the other player. 

“Actually…” you trailed off, sending him your best smile as Patrick drew his head back to meet your gaze. 

He observed your innocent expression with quizzical, unsure eyes. Even though you were giving him your sweetest look, there was something mischievous about the glint in your eyes. When realisation hit him, Patrick sighed and said, “I’m the unlucky girl, aren’t I?” His distraught tone made laughter bubble from your lips.

“Smart and handsome? I really hit the jackpot,” you teased, buttering him up with compliments so that he would agree more readily. “Come on, Pat, it’ll be fun!” 

“Oh yeah, really fun!” Patrick agreed sarcastically, matching your energetic tone. “Like how a lion treats a lamb during slaughter!”

You rolled your eyes, stifling your laughter at your boyfriend’s dramatics. “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I’ll go easy on you,” you said, imitating his voice and tone. He had never used those exact words about playing tennis, but Patrick’s tone was always thick with the same arrogant confidence. “Think about it! If you play against me, you’ll get to see that winning serve of mine up close and personal.”

“Excuse me, I’ve been on the opposing end of your winning serve plenty of times during practice,” Patrick defended. “I always knew you were better than me, gorgeous, but I don’t remember agreeing to public humiliation when we started dating!”

“Drama queen,” you accused. “It really will be fun! We’ll be mic’d up and we can talk and joke the entire time. It’s the best of three sets and it’ll be just like practising together. Come on, what do you say?” At Patrick’s uncertain expression, you sat up in bed and swung a leg over his lap to straddle him. The fire that instantaneously burned in his gaze made you smirk triumphantly. “I’ll be really grateful if you do it,” you said suggestively, placing your hands on his chest and grinning. “Pretty please?”

“Well, since you said pretty please,” Patrick joked, unable to keep the wide smile off his face when you tilted your head at him. “Sure. What’s one more event where everyone thinks you’re out of my league?”

Happily, you exclaimed, “That’s the spirit!” 

“Wait–” Patrick frowned when you got up from his lap and began scurrying around the room looking for your phone– “I thought you were going to show me how grateful you are?”

You snorted. “Nice try. You can have your reward after the exhibition match,” you declared, chuckling quietly.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Patrick complained.

“Don’t act like you don’t love the chase,” you retorted, winking as you texted Elora that you and Patrick were happy to participate in the exhibition match. 

From his place on your shared bed, Patrick rolled onto his stomach and observed you. It was hard to imagine that he had only known you for four years. Your participation in his life felt so insurmountably important that it was like he had known you his entire life. You had seamlessly woven yourself into the fabric of Patrick’s daily existence, shaping his world with a depth and significance that defied the brevity of time. 

Unlike Tashi and Art, Patrick realised early on that you were someone he should hold on to. His life before you had been filled with disappointment from his family, and Patrick recognised what a rarity you were. Having already lost you before when his relationships with Tashi and Art ended, Patrick knew losing you meant losing something irreplaceable. Your presence filled gaps he hadn’t noticed before he met you, making it obvious that you were someone worth cherishing. 

As you picked up a phone call from your coach, Patrick went on his laptop and checked how much money was in his savings account. He won enough matches to pay for plane tickets, tennis equipment, and other daily necessities, saving an immense amount of money because the fat cheque you got from Nike every month more than covered your shared accommodations. Over the last year, in particular, Patrick had started saving for something very special. 

An engagement ring.

As much as Patrick wanted you to have the very best, an engagement ring from Harry Winston or Bulgari just wasn’t within his budget. He was entitled to a family heirloom ring, but Patrick didn’t want to give you something from his family. Any engagement ring he chose had to represent you and your relationship with him, rather than the generations of unhappy, reluctant marriages his family seemed destined to repeat.

After carefully perusing different stores and comparing the cost and quality of various rings, Patrick found the perfect one at Cartier. It was simple and classic, exactly the style you had mentioned you preferred offhandedly on several occasions. To his surprise, it didn’t cost an arm and a leg, and he had almost saved enough to get you the exact ring he wanted you to have.

After Wimbledon, you noticed and commented on the fact that Patrick was training harder than ever. To you, it seemed like he was finally starting to take himself more seriously. Instead of coasting on his natural talent, Patrick began seeing your physical trainer with you and even quit smoking to improve his stamina. What you didn’t know was that he was doing all of this to increase his chances of winning more matches at the US Open, where a significant amount of prize money was on the line.

In Patrick’s mind, the more matches he won, the more money he could take home, and the nicer your engagement ring could be. 

“Hey, do you know what ring size you are?” Patrick asked as casually as he could when your phone call was over. “Jess got a bunch of rings that don’t fit her and she was wondering if you want them instead?”

“That’s so sweet, I can’t believe she thought of me,” you acknowledged, grinning. Ever since you met Patrick and his extended family last year, you were constantly invited to spend time with his cousins Jess and Alex. While Patrick wasn’t best friends with them, they were the closest family he had, so you had accepted several invitations over the past year. “I would love that, Jess has amazing taste in jewellery! Tell her I’m an eight in ring size, but I’ll squeeze into anything she wants to give me,” you joked, not thinking much of Patrick’s question. 

With shaking hands, Patrick sent a text with your ring size to the sales associate at the Cartier store in New York, who had been keeping him updated on when the exact ring he wanted was available. Once the US Open was over, all Patrick had to do was head to Manhattan and pick up the ring. It had taken him almost four months to find the perfect one for you, and then it was just a matter of winning enough prize money to afford it. As long as Patrick won two rounds at the US Open next week, he’d have enough to buy your engagement ring.

Then he would have to decide how and when to propose to you.

[janovavalen]

one thing that is his .°୭̥ ❁ ˎˊ˗ aegon targaryen x velaryon!reader

summary: aegon never had anything in his life that was of his choice or fully his, but the heart of his niece y/n, is the only thing he can posses.

warnings: cursing, slight blood and scars mentioned, the word ‘bastards’ drinking (drunk aegon), regular targaryen incest (uncle and niece) eventual shortly written sexual intimacy, p in v, oral ( f received ), talk of pregnancy, fluff, a bit of angst.

based on this request!

word count; 7k

in the pit of a dusted floor full of mulch, stands of fake bodies standing up and held as if they were components. sitting in the chairs above were y/n with her friend nora. her hands crossed over her lap as they played with each other.

‘what do you think will happen?’ her friend mumbled.

y/n didn’t want to watch her brothers train, but her friend thought it would be a way to get out of the house, possibly a way to watch y/n’s brothers from afar, y/n was swear of the crush her friend developed on her brothers.

‘not much..from what i’ve heard they’ve not made any improvements, aemond however?’ drifting off as she watched them swing their arms with the fake swords in hand, y/n didn’t want to admit but didn't completely oppose watching, more for her uncle, aegon.

his shoulder length curls blowing in the wind as he laughed and talked to her brother. watching as harwin spoke to her brother jacaerys before he was cut off by ser criston who looked stern, upset maybe, anger even.

y/n held no emotion to her face, straight and focused, her friend however, held a warm smile and her eyebrows lifted to show her attention was on them with admiration.

y/n didn’t fail to notice aegon who turned and looked up at her before turning back at her brother, harwin looking up at her as well as her dark brown hair blew in the wind. she didn’t notice until she blinked that he wore a smile.

‘i know you’ve never seen true battle, but when steelers drawn a fair match isn’t something anyone should expect.’ ser crision stated while walking to the side of jacaerys and aegon who were set to battle.

harwin said nothing but looked with his eyebrows frowned as cristion ignored his look of warning—‘blades up.’ he instructed, the boys doing as told.

aegon held some magical confidence in him making his blade higher than it was needed to be, he held eye contact with jacaerys who looked to his sister then ser criston and herwin before getting a grip on his sword—‘engage.’ he told them.

yelling before running forward, aegon charged at jacaerys who failed to keep up with the pressure and aggressive swinging that aegon pressed onto him, managing to get the sword from in front of jacaerys and pushing him to the ground with his open hand, laughing once jacaerys was on the ground and groaning in pain.

y/n grumbled a bit—‘fucking cheater..’ she mumbled her friend hearing her and biting back a laugh as y/n held her hands a but tighter. what she failed to say was how she found it somewhat attractive of how aegon was at least trying to impress someone, possibly her, and the chuckling that she heard from above.

getting up and dusting himself off; jacaerys standing up and running after aegon who was turned and walking away. suddenly a rip of a scream torn the silence, the sound of his feet running on the mulch. aegon who had confidence as he grinned at y/n was cut short, turning around to see the shorter boy running at him.

yelping as he swung his sword at aegon who tried to keep up with jacaerys’ fury swings, walking back as jacaerys pressed forward, held him back and stuck, his back hitting the dummy body as aegon went behind it and pushed it forward, hitting jacaerys.

seeing this harwin spoke, ‘foul play—‘

‘i’ll deal with it.’ criston cut him off, walking over to aegon as harwin spoke to jacaerys. speaking to jacaerys as criston spoke to aegon, y/n noticed his hand going under her brothers chin, y/n smiling a bit before letting it fall.

‘you!’ aegon yelled, embarrassment and the courage to make the wanted eyes of y/n pleased with him.

jacaerys turning aorund and pushing hawrin out of his way, hosing up his sword, swinging their sword against one another. criston telling what aegon to do and him doing exactly that—‘use you feet!’ he yelled, prompting aegon to kick jacaerys stomach making him fall back.

‘Gods…that can’t be right?’ y/n’s friend mumbled to her as y/n held a bit of distaste towards the situation in front of her—‘it probably is but, on the field there is no such thing as foul play…just fighting.’ she stated. y/n held her eyes on them.

‘don’t let him get up.’ criston told aegon who started to yell and attack at her brothers wooden sword that was held against the ground—‘hold the attack!’ he yelled.

hawrin finding it hard to engage as he watched with worry and anger for the boy on the floor, y/n even found herself holding the arms of her chair tighter, her interest peaked.

holding up the wooden sword to finish the hitting was cut when hawrin threw his body only aegon’s back, his hands gripping his arms and stopping him from using them any further—‘enough!’ he yelled.

throwing aegon to the side who yelled in anger—‘you dare lay your hands on me!’ he yelled with the disgusting thought of the fact he was touched by someone like hawrin—‘aegon!’ y/n yelled her face holding a sort of display of anger and upset.

aegon took a notice and felt a bit embarrassed, huffing and throwing his arm as if to wipe it clean. standing as she made her way down the boys y/n went to her brother who stood beside their brother and harwin.

‘are you alright?’ she asked him, her dark braided hair tied back, some free from the clips that held her braids up.

‘yeah, i’m fine’ he told her, her hand holding his chest what was hit to soon grab his arm that was struck, turning to look at aegon who looked at the two engaged, cringed at the fact she was touching him before turning in anger and leaving.

y/n scoffed, turning around to look at her brothers and harwin who watched her—‘i fail to see you standing and saying nothing helped’ y/n stressed as harwin stugger—‘i can’t say much now, and i won’t say much in battle when his time comes.’ he told her.

humming while she grabbed onto her brothers the four walked away, her friend going on the side of jacaerys who paid her no mind.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

‘it was so unfair mother you should’ve seen it! aegon kicked jacaerys and made him stay down as criston told him to’ y/n seethed as she sat across her mother who’d been holding her new baby brother joffrey.

‘aw, my sweet. i know you hate to see your brothers hurt but that is what battle is. men fighting with no rules and no one to tell them otherwise, you however, will be here, in your own birth bedding with your own babe someday’ she teased, y/n groaned while sitting back in her chair.

‘i do not wish to birth a babe, i wish to do whatever i want, free to mind’ rhaenyra smiled gently, getting the monkey she’s heard this conversation before. opening her mouth to speak before she were cut off by a guard—‘princess rhaenyra, ser herwin strong wishes to speak with you.’ he said.

y/n noticed as her mothers eyes opened a bit wider, sitting up in her chair as she cleared her throat—‘he may’ she told her. y/n turning to watch as hawrin walked in, his hands by his side.

‘princesses’ he said as rhaenyra smiled at him, y/n looking him up and down as he walked to her and placed his hand on her head—‘you’ve grown much, princess y/n.’ he told her as he smiled at her, y/n didn’t take too much to mind but nodded.

rhaenyra looking at the interaction and smiling at the two, their dark hair matching perfectly, y/n’s long and curly.

‘i must go, i have dresses to fit.’ y/n dismissed herself, her mother calling her over to give her a kiss and hug as y/n made her leave.

walking down the hallway with a guard behind her, she’d turned halls and found the room she’d be dressing in, opening the doors and gasping when seeing her uncle aegon—‘mother, i do not wish—‘

him stopping immediately as his bare chest was lifted from the blanket, his face dropped with fear and embarrassment, the women he thought was his mother wasn’t her at all, it was his bastard niece with her black and red dress, brown hair falling over her shoulders with the braid tucked back behind her head.

‘y/n…what are you—‘ he whispered trying to see why she was there but was cut when y/n spoke and turned to make her leave.

‘i apologize, i’ve entered the wrong room, goodbye—‘ y/n pressed while she went for the door.

‘wait!’ standing up as he made she to hold the blanket tighter before he revealed himself entirely to her and ruining his image to her, he gripped her arm, stopping her from leaving. she turned and stood straight, eyes focused on his but not without looking him up and down.

‘what is it?’ she muttered. her eyes are dark and soft. looking at him as he was lost for words—‘don’t go, please.’ he mumbled, his cheeks on fire from embarrassment.

he hated to admit he sort of found comfort in her presence, and him seeing she wasn’t his mother made it all better from what she’d previously done to him before leaving.

y/n looked over his face before noticing the bright red markings on his cheeks that seemed to trace one’s fingers. her mouth opening to say something about it only to see the slight tear in his eyes, frowning to herself.

‘okay…’ she told him, her chest rising with the necklace set upon her chest following her breathing. aegon didn’t fail to notice how she’d seemingly had been going through puberty, her face slimming and her body morphing into something more, mature.

‘you have grown, greatly so.’ he told her. y/n looked down and then back up—‘and you are naked’ she noted.

he looked down at his chest and mumbled a curse word before telling her to turn around with urgency in his voice, her doing just that.

a bit after he told her, he rushed to place his pants back on. cleaning his throat and fixing his pants.

‘are you decent?’ she asked, he muttered,‘yes, i am.’ when he told her, she turned around and looked him up and down, his chest still bare.

‘not as much but this will do’ she joked as he grinned.

‘what are you doing in here anyway?’ aegon wondered, pointed out. y/n shrugging as she began to walk around the room.

‘i was meant to fit into dresses for dinner later, but i guess the room was occupied.’ y/n told to him. he hummed and nodded dreading the fact he still had to attend that.

‘you should be getting ready too, aegon. the family would be angry to have to wait for you once more’ she jokes while looking at aegon who chuckled.

‘apologies that i have thing i’d rather do outside of the house, away from you all’ he grinned as she faked her shocked expression, jaw slightly open and eyes wide. he hated to admit that he liked this look on her, something other than the straightforward expression she gave everyone aside from her family.

‘i’m hurt’ she joked, holding her hand over her chest, he laughed and shrugged—‘i jest’ aegon smiled as she turned and walked.

‘i shouldn’t talk to you after you kicked my brother and cheated in the practice fight’ she revealed. aegon cringed at the thought of how he acted in front of her and tried to make a mends.

‘i was instructed to, told by ser criston…i wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t tell me i had to—‘

‘but you did…you have the free will to do as you please, almost.’ she added as aegon shook his head and tightened his lips.

‘i apologize for that. i will make it up to you, but you flowers? a dress?’ he asked, trying to make her forgive him in a way.

‘hm..how about a ring?’ she added, he lifted a eyebrow in curiosity before she smiled—‘nothing serious, but something beautiful.’ she told him,testing how much he meant his apology.

‘i will do as you ask’ his voice came out whispered, weak almost at her confidence but he was focused on doing as she asked. smiling at him she half her hands in one another.

‘will you be at dinner today?’ she asked, a part of her…all of her hoping he’d say yes.

‘i shall’ he told her with a tilted head and a smile as she hummed,’ i shall expect to see you then, on time, before me?’ she indicated as aegon went to speak but was cut when she walked and shut the door.

he grinned at the memory of her and looked around the room.

‘i must get ready…’ he muttered to himself before making a beeline to the door and calling maids, secretly planning on how he’d find a ring to her liking, even asking the maids what type of ring they’d like if they were asked.

‘a big one, very bright’ one said.

‘no small but meaningful, that’s what matters, yes?’ another added, she was about older.

‘something that matches my eyes’ one gushed as she combed out aegons hair. he listened to them speaking, the lasts one catching his attention.

‘hm..’ was all he replied with. e/c, what matched with e/c?

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as y/n stood on a small stool for her handmaid to dress her, tightening the corset around her waist so that she looked slim, she let out a breath once she heard—‘you are done my lady’. stepping off the stool as her mother came into the chambers with her own dress on and her brothers behind her and her step father; daemon.

‘are you ready, my sweet?’ she asked, smiling at the girl who nodded and murmured—‘yes mother.’

throughout the whole house, the maids and lords alike found it hard to not favor the young velaryon. she was kind, and mature for her age. she was straight forward and didn’t make any unnecessary comments about the dresses she wore or hair she had done, though; she thought them.

walking down the hall with her hands in front of her, interlinked. she and her family stepped foot into the room. a table set out with foods freshly cooked, some even still being brought out, drinks set on the table.

her grandfather and his wife, alicent looked at the family, her back straight and face stern—‘rhaenyra, glad to see you joined us.’ she stated. her mother nodding a bit.

y/n had noticed aegon, sitting front face and present as he looked at her, she held back a smile and sat down in her seat; close to him.

‘let us eat’ her grandfather spoke, his voice a bit withered but still clear. the bunch started as they ate their food, y/n getting smaller portions.

‘is that all you want?’ she heard aegon asked, him leaning into her side, his eyes stayed on her food as she shrugged.

‘i don’t have a big appetite right now, this will do. you have enough to feel a family on your plate’ she pointed with her fork at the large amount of food he had, he smiled and shrugged back—‘i have a large appetite, i’m a man who must eat’ he commented.

stabbing his fork in the steak—‘a man who must stuff his face’ she corrected as she slowly ate her meat. he chucked a bit before gulping down large amounts of wine, filling his cup once more making sure his father didn’t see.

the family spoke—‘so, i hear y/n will be betrothed.’ alicent mumbled as she looked at daemon and rhaenyra who looked at y/n, her paying no mind but paying her attention to her food.

‘yes..we have yet to see. no one is fitting to the standards—‘

‘nonsense, my boy, aegon. is perfect for the match—‘

‘no, is he betrothed to haelena…remember?’ she muttered to her husband who mumbled and nodded—‘oh, right. my boy aemond, is free for marriage’ he told rhaenyra who looked at the younger boy with a pudgy face then y/n who grumbled.

‘how about the kids take a trip elsewhere, and we speak on the matters in hand?’ rhaenyra commented. alicent already had her answer in mind which was a no, she didn’t want her son marring someone like her, a bastard.

‘yes, you we shall, kids go off’ daemon told them as he gave a look to y/n who nodded, a look of words that spoke through eyes.

then all getting up and walking off as the adults spoke, y/n stayed next to her brothers.

‘let’s go to the dragon pit, show something cool!’ lucerys jumped with excitement as y/n held his hand.

shaking her head in uninterested—‘i don’t want to—‘

‘oh don’t be a wuss, cole on, have a little fun’ aegon muttered to her as she looked him in the eyes. shaking her head she mumbled—‘alright fine…so be it.’

the bunch making their way down to the dark and cold room where they heard the chains rattling and moving along the ground. aegon standing next to y/n who could practically smell the wine bouncing off his mouth and into her air.

‘whoa, is this where arrax is?’ lucerys asked y/n who nodded—‘yes, he is here. so is silverwing.’ y/n commented as she looked around for her dragon.

her mother would say the two were born on the same moon, her being birthed and silverwing hatched. them having a unique bond with each other.

‘hm, i see no interest in dragons’ aegon mumbled to y/n who rolled her eyes—‘i know you love your dragon, your maids said so. how much you brag about how you got lucky with one as such’ y/n revealed as aegon stood up as straight as he could.

rolling his eyes before bubbling a laugh in his drunken state—‘little brother here is a late bloomer, hasn’t a dragon yet’ aegon teases as aemond rolled his eyes—‘vhagar is my dragon.’ he told.

‘but he is laenas—‘

‘she is dead..she is now mine.’ he told them as y/n felt a sort of clutch in her heart over the death of her step fathers late wife, laena.

‘don’t say that, you haven’t the right—‘

‘i’ll say what i want, you have no room to speak.’ aemond cut off jacaerys who grumbled. walking over to aemond and shoving him angrily.

‘jace!’ y/n yelled as she went to step forward to grab her brother. he yanked his arm back and dusted off his shirt as aemond stood up. groaning, y/n didn’t see the need to stay as she went to leave only to hear a thud on the ground, turning to see jacaerys was pushed—‘what?’ y/n was beyond confused.

‘don’t you ever touch me again!’ aemond yelled as he spat at jacaerys who grumbled—‘stop it you two!’ y/n yelled with her heart racing.

aegon went to grab y/n but yanked her arm—‘don’t! jace, come on, let’s just go back’ y/n begged her brother to stop at the two boys tussled, lucerys crying out as they aggressively threw each other around.

‘y/n! stop them!’ he yelled for her to help as she didn’t know what to do. going up to grab jacaerys by the wrist, she tugged him back before aemond could throw a punch to his face.

some scratches on aemond and jacaerys face that were exchanged from the two through the fight—‘enough! we are leaving’ y/n told as she started to walk with her brothers in both of her hands.

‘bastards.’ aemond grumbled. the room stilling.

aegon gasped a bit as she looked at y/n who turned slowly—‘what did you say?’ she dared.

‘you and your brothers are bastards! dark hair and darker eyes? don’t be stupid—‘ just then a punch was thrown making him stumbled back and fall with a grunt. y/n had picked up a stone and hit him with it.

aegon yelped—‘aemond!’ he ran over to his brother, who’s face started to bruise and bleed, feeling the anger for his brother and knowing he couldn’t do anything, he stood up, reaching for the knife in his pocket and slicing it across y/n’s face.

it marking a fine line over her nose and running through her cheek, screaming as she held her face in pain the boys screamed for her. jacaerys threw his body towards aegon as they fell and tussled.

two in pain, two fighting and one running to get his mom.

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in a room filled with nurses and parents, rhaenyra and daemon showed a bit later than the rest—‘my sweet!’ she yelled in worry, running to her daughter who had a white cloth held over her face that absorbed the blood.

‘mother’ she whimpers, her mom huggering her immediately—‘oh, it’s okay, it’s okay..what is the meaning of this?’ she stood, yelling at alicent and her sons who looked down at the floor, dirt on their clothes, aemond, a swollen eye.

‘your son, attacked mine—‘

‘no mother! they started it! he said something about laena—‘

‘only what is true! how can he be mad at that? for such a foolish reason’ alicent cut off jacaerys who grunted.

‘he called us bastards.’ y/n’s head pressed against her mothers hip to hold her head in her hand, soothing it. the words of which she spoke stilling the room.

‘what?’ rhaenyra mumbled, looking at aemond who grinned and aegon who looked away.

‘he did! he called us bastards and y/n helped us, she hit aemond and then aegon cut her face!’ jacaerys told the story as the bunch listened. aemond saying nothing but looking at his mother who shook her head and at y/n’s face which was ruined.

‘we will move past this…’ alicent told them while rhaenyra scoffed—‘it was my child who was stuck! under such matters for i will have his matters taken for this’ she muttered gasped a bit out of disbelief for things to be taken under any circumstances.

‘we will have no such thing…as your queen. you will leave at once’ was all she said before storming out of the room with her children, aegon, turning around and looking at y/n with sorrow and regret.

he knew what he’d done and every ounce of him hated himself what it, he hurt her and he did it under anger. he didn’t want anything to do with the situation but knew if he didn’t he’d be punished, cringing as the cloth was removed from her face and a small blood trickled down her cheek.

the last of the family was seen after that, they left that very night on dragonback, his father angry beyond belief. aegon she been in his room on his back, s shudder of a sigh to left himself as his tear soaked face glistened in the fire light.

looking down at the ring he’d picked for y/n hours before, planning to give it to her that day until things unfolded in a way he didn’t expect.

the memory of his father yelling in his face as his mother had grandfather stood as writers to the embarrassment.

turning over as more tears fell from his eyes he let out a cry.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

sitting in her room with her hands knitting the stitch on her lap. y/n has grew beautifully, her body forming just right, and her face scared. a faint tint of dark brown as the scar laid on her face, proof of past.

‘princess y/n, your mother wishes to speak to you.’ a guard walked into her room as she nodded. standing up and making her way out of the room and down the hall to her mothers chambers.

opening the door and seeing her mother with her step father daemon—‘yes mother?’ she mumbled.

rhaenyra turned around with her hand on with a stomach, expecting another child, reaching out a hand and her smile failing to stay, it faltering into a frown, y/n noticed and rushed to her mother—what is it ?’ she asked, worried.

rhaenyra let out a shaky breath and spoke softly—‘your grandfather has fallen extremely ill. and we are to set to kings landing, to support, and witness his last days, he is expected not to last much longer’ rhaenyra tried to explain as her voice shattered softly.

a slow tear running down her face as y/n whipped it. she was very aware of the bond between her and her father and how she lost her mother at a young age. y/n couldn’t imagine what it would be like if she were to be without her own mother.

‘of course…i will inform jacaerys and lucerys quickly’ she said giving her mother one last squeeze in her hand before leaving. the bunch packed what they needed and left for kings landing.

y/n feeling the air between her hair as her heart raced, thinking of the boy she left behind on bad terms, the boy who cut her face. aegon, one she’d thought she’d have no issue forgetting.

now a women rather than a child, she found it difficult to forget what they’d talked and shared about, the stolen glances and how she’d told him about him getting her a ring. she felt embarrassed, her dragon screeching out into the air at feeling what y/n felt, she patted her dragon's mane and shushed it.

when they landed, the bunch made sure they looked well and made their way to the front doors of rhaenyra’s childhood home. the large doors opening to present them.

‘princess rhaenyra, prince daemon and their children, princess y/n, prince jacaerys and prince lucerys!’ a voice boomed as the other family stood witnesses.

y/n could see how much older her uncles and aunt got. them not showing maturity as well, aemonds hair longer, his face slim, helaena holding her hands in front of her body and fiddling with her fingers, her hair braided back and her face full as well.

aegon; his hair still shoulder length as he looked a bit stunned, looking he rip and down as y/n did the same, she noticed his eyes training on the scar he made on her face.

the family speaking as they all acknowledged the fact rhaenyra father, the kind, was sickly and almost dying but staying as much as he could for his daughter. she asked to see him which alicent granted.

‘stay away, and awear.’ daemon told y/n who nodded. the adults talking to their kids before leaving them alone like those years ago.

them awkwardly looking at each other, the floor, the iron throne and the ceiling.

‘i will go to my chambers’ y/n told before she walked away from them all, aegon following her. aemond grumbled at this and looked at the velaryons who glared.

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closing her door and sighing she held her stomach as it seemed to grow tight, her heart racing as fast as ever at seeing him again. trying to calm down as she looked around the sudden noise of her door opening startled her.

seeing aegon she almost scoffed.

‘aegon, what is it you want?’ she asked with a stern voice.

‘i wished to speak with you—‘

‘about what?’ she cut him off. it almost reminded him of his mother who he was quick to forget about.

‘i wanted to um…apologize, to you…those years ago we were just kids, i didn’t think, i wasn’t thinking, and i regret what i’ve done to you.’ he told her with a low voice, the distance between them far enough as y/n looked down at the floor. she didn’t really want to forgive him.

but when he mentioned that they were kids and he wasn’t thinking prompted her.

‘we were kids..nothing to apologize about now. that was years ago—‘

‘yes but it haunts me to this day, i’ve woken and slept with the thought on my mind of how we left off..we were doing good, us being together—‘

‘aegon…please. forget about it.’ she begged, not wanting to talk about the past anymore, remembering how she was practically bullied as a kid before it fixed her fit face.

he mumbled something before he watched her turn away. he was happy she wasn’t telling him to leave but didn’t know what else do to, walking up to her slowly and placing a hand on her face making her slowly look up.

‘what…’ she mumbled as he studied her face. his eyes showing he’d been crying for what seemed like years.

they were a bit low, more than they were when they were little. her eyes however stayed the same, a bit more darker under her eyes but they were same shape.

she let him stroke his thumb over her scar he made as his breath shuddered—‘i regret doing this…it pains me to know i hurt you beyond repair.‘ he told her as she looked down and let her hand travel up his arm that held her, her hand holding his.

‘it is okay…’ she tried to tell him, her eyes blinking slowly. he let himself cry in her presence, his hands shaking as she held it in hers.

‘come here.’ she told him, pulling him in as he let his head fall between her neck and shoulder. his cries were muffled.

oh how he missed her, her smile she barely let show, the way they joked. the memory of when they were very small and she’d been unable to sleep without him until the age of five.

she held him in her arms as he let his arms tighten around her waist. her hand holding the back of his head to comfort him. as he sniffled a bit, he pulled apart, their noses touching.

he looked at her face and lips as she did the same to him, he hesitated before mumbling—‘kiss me…please?’ he whined a bit when she leaned in and closed the space.

the kiss gentle and sweet. savory, he held her face close to hers, desperation for more of her to touch him, she heard him whimper a bit when they opened their mouths and attached to one another.

he followed as she started to lead him to her bed and let him sit, her following and sitting on his lap.

as he started to kiss her more aggressively y/n followed, feeling him let go and kiss her neck, down to her bare skin that wasn’t hidden behind her dress. moaning as he sucked her skin he nibbled every now and again before grabbing ahold of her waist, turning her over so her back laid on the bed.

‘please…i’ve thought about this more than i should, you, the way you taste’ he emphasized before pressing his lips on hers, she whimpered and nodded in agreement, quick to please he kissing down her neck, chest and clothes stomach, going to the bottom of the bed, his knees in the floor in front of her.

pulling up her dress and kissing her legs slowly to absorb her taste, he licked slowly. from experience most would have moaned but when she didn’t he bit at her leg leaving her to gasp.

finally getting to where she needed, where he wanted to be, he licked a swipe before eating her, moaning loudly as she let her thighs hold themselves against his head, she let him please her.

him fretting his tongue where it needed to be to guarantee she got her finish. moving a finger up and over her pearl, he moved it in a manner that made her mouth fall open in pleasure.

‘aegon’ she mumbled, letting him know she was close, he continued his movements and soon felt and heard her moan in finishing. she smiled a bit at the high as he kissed her, then her thigh, her leg and her foot. working his way up to her lips.

tasting herself on his tongue and lips she hummed into the kiss.

reaching into his pocket as he mumbled against her lips—‘i’ve kept my promise.’ he told her. opening her eyes and seeing a ring that was beautiful.

gasping a bit she let them sit up in unison, her hand resting onto it as it rested between his fingers.

shaking her head in protest ‘i was only jesting, you didn’t need to—‘

‘i wanted to, for you’ he said softly, cutting her off as she smiled. letting him grab her hand and slip the ring into her finger as they smiled at one another.

‘are you betrothed?’ he asked after a bit of silence. she shook her head.

‘mother said i am to be on a wedding tour. i don’t know what to look for, you?’ she asked he shook his head and shrugged.

‘how do you feel about marrying me?’ he asked her, she looked up from the ring on her finger and looked between his eyes—‘you jest?’ she mumbled as she shook immediately—‘i do not…i mean it y/n.’

‘we were out in interest but it was denied, not we are older and looking to marry, they cannot deny us any longer.’ he told her at the memory of the table before the accident. y/n nodded at remembering.

‘but your bother—‘

‘i will handle it…i will speak to her myself. you to your mother as well.’ he told her

‘i don’t have a problem with it i suppose. nothing to complain about.’ the two smiled as they kissed one another once more.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

later that day y/n found herself in his mothers chambers. sitting down in the chair next to her with the fire set to warm the room.

‘queen alicent ? i wish to speak with you.’ she told. her looking up and at rhaenyra’s daughter with a straight face.

‘about what matters?’ she asked.

‘i am to marry…and i have thought of someone’ she told her—‘oh that’s good to hear, who'd you have in mind?’ she asked ready to judge.

‘you son, aegon.’ she almost fell back. she stuffed a small laugh and looked around the room at her father who’s eyes were wide—‘i will deny—‘

‘please…i will provide you fine heirs for the throne, and i will do as you ask. i will do as told, and i will stay out of the way. i only wish to marry aegon—‘

‘you cannot possibly give us anything. you a bastard and his “sons”, cursed with the blood of you? i would deny again.’ she didn’t hold back. y/n but her lip.

‘i am a velaryon, not a bastard. your son and the heirs will not suffer the consequences of my mothers actions and your blind sightedness, your tongue is as foul as your heart, you poison what you touch. i will not let you do that to aegon any longer.’ she told with confidence as alicent’s eye twitched.

watching as y/n walked away she didn’t know what she were to do, she didn’t know where she was going but she prayed not to her husband—quick to be feet, she went to his room only to be stopped by the guard.

‘i am sorry my queen, your husband is speaking on matters he wish you not to be present for.’ the guard told her, she winced and made her way back in her room.

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as y/n had talked to his mother, aegon was able to locate his sister. she was the chambers of his sickly father.

knocking on his door to speak with him and her on the matters of his wanting to marry y/n.

‘princess rhaenyra, father. i wish to speak with you, regarding my marriage’

‘yes…speak’ his father rasped out. aegon winced at the sound of his voice and cleared his throat turning to rhaenyra who was a bit lost to why he turned to her.

‘i wish to marry y/n velaryon—‘

‘pardon?’ rhaenyra mumbled as she let go of bet fathers hand who left upset at the lost but tried to pay mind to the conversation.

‘i’m awear of my past actions, and they haunt me to this day, i have made amends with y/n herself and she and i made an agreement to be married since we are both out to marry, soon. i hope that my apology and future actions will help your forgive me—‘

‘wait..you spoke to her, yourself?’ rhaenyra didn’t like the fact they spoke or was cent close to each other. he nodded—just before she could deny on all accounts y/n walked in and looked behind her and back to the room.

‘mother, grandfather’ she greeted, looking at aegon—‘aegon, i hope you know of the situation?’

‘yes i do and i am not happy with it, y/n. you know how i feel…how you felt.’ the thought of y/n feeling any other way to aegon made him sick to his stomach, turning and looking at her as her eyebrows raised a bit but her attention turned to her mother.

‘mother i have forgiven and made peace. please…don’t marry me to jascerys, i bed of you.’ she sat down next to rhaenyra who was lost and not wanting to agree, she looked at her father who seemed to slowly nod, he agreed with the marriage. rhaenyra looking back at y/n who’s eyes asked her with great measure.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

the marriage was set and passed, the king giving a yes, alicent fuming, stomping to his room she opened the door and watched as he turned around in shock, his clothes fit for the wedding, she scoffed.

walking forward and clapping his face as hard as she could to reflect her anger, his head turning before she grabbed his jaw and forced his face forward—‘you selfish child! your sister unmarried, you married to a bastard! you make me sick’ she seethed as she felt himself begin to cry, as she went to angry walk away he yelled.

‘i did as you asked! i do as you ask, i marry, i fight, i live. i do what you want and without a fuss. the moment i get something i want you, deny. i want this, for me! not for you, is that what makes you mad? that i have something of my own? unrelated to you?’ be mumbled as tears fell from his eyes, she listened and felt a ping in her heart for her first son, turning around slowly with nothing to say, she left, but before she did she mumbled.

‘you will birth a son.’ and shutting the door behind her. he let out a shattered sigh as he cried but tried to ignore it. y/n walking into the room just moments later, seeing him sitting with his head in hands—‘aegon?’

he turned immediately at the soft voice and let himself shake, she rushed to his side and held his head around his head, pressing his head against her stomach in comfort as he hugged her waist.

her body was his comfort, her whole life, was his sanctuary.

‘it is alright.’ was all she said, not needing to hear a story but knowing he needed her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

the wedding went as planned, the newly married going to their room, their lips on one another, they were finding it difficult to keep themselves away from one another.

moaning and groaning into one another’s mouth, they stumbled onto the bed, y/n on top of aegon who’s had squeezed at her waist, he moaned sweetly as she did the same, her hips trying to find friction between the two.

‘my wife’ he mumbled before kissing her aggressively, she smiled and mumbled back—‘my husband, my king’ he groaned at his and went between the two, undoing his pants to free himself from the painful withhold of his dick.

she felt this and did the same with taking her dress off, her body bare and flushed against his, once the two of them were free of clothes, y/n placed herself back on top of him and he groaned.

‘is it your first time?’ he asked. she nodded, this making him place his fingers between the two and in her, she let her lips drop open slowly in pleasure and pain at the sensation.

‘i don’t want to finish like this’ she mumbled with a whimper at feeling how he was curling his fingers in her.

he shook his head and pulled his fingers out slowly—‘you won’t, i will be in you. to fill you, with myself’ he told her as she nodded, her hands staying above and on his chest to let him glide himself near her entrance.

gasping a bit, she let him push himself in and sighing, the two feeling each other become one. y/n tried to move but found it difficult him seeing his—‘don’t rush it, it will hurt’ she nodded and waited until she was ready before she began to move forward and back on him. he groaned and watched her move. their hips connected together.

he held her hand as their fingers interlocked she gripped them as she watched her hips move against him, moaning in unison. once he was close, one of his hands let go of her grip and held her waist—‘i’m close’ she mumbled her eyes closed in pleasure as all he could do was nod.

struggling to keep up as she finally reached her high, him following her quickly, them moaning together as he spilled into her.

leaning forward and keeping himself in her she laid across his chest, laying to catch her breath as he did the same.

‘you look beautiful’ he told her as she only smiled and laughed a bit.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

the two were successful in having a daughter and son.

[ghoclish]

polite   as   giles   tried   to   be   ,   he   had   a   (   slight   )   problem   with   speaking   before   the   person   he   was   speaking   to   was   finished   .   it   could   have   something   to   do   with   working   around   children   .   he   learned   earlier   on   that   if   he   didn't   get   a   word   in   somehow   ,   he   may   never   be   heard   at   all   (   their   mouths   tended   to   run   faster   than   their   brains   )   .   it   didn't   help   that   ,   outside   of   his   monthly   book   club   ,   he   didn't   have   much   social   interaction   .   he   needed   to   work   on   keeping   his   thoughts   to   himself   until   the   other   was   finished   speaking   ,   and   so   he   got   to   work   .   as   demetria   spoke   ,   he   kept   his   gaze   focused   on   them   in   (   what   he   hoped   )   gave   off   ‘   i’m   respectful   and   attentative   to   what   you're   saying   ‘   vibes   and   not   ’   i'm   a   little   bit   of   a   creep   '   vibes   .   he   worried   about   being   too   much   of   the   latter   so   he   began   to   nod   his   head   thoughtfully   ,   as   if   they   were   posing   a   philosophical   question   that   required   much   thought   . 

he   didn't   consider   that   in   trying   to   ensure   they   knew   he   was   listening   ,   he   wasn't   actually   listening   .   his   focus   pulling   back   to   them   as   they   pointed   out   their   nephew   and   his   brain   tripped   over   itself   trying   to   play   catch   up   .   something   about   his   blue   hat   ,   a   question   posed   about   it   ,   a   name   (   demetria   holland   )   ,   and   a   nephew   .   yes   ,   those   were   the   core   points   .   he   hoped   .   “   very   cute   kid   .   ”   he   complimented   just   as   the   youngster   did   in   fact   stick   his   hand   in   the   used   paints   .   “   creative   too   !   a   free   thinker   to   go   against   instruction   like   that   .   ”   a   light   chuckle   was   given   as   he   went   to   scratch   his   head   and   was   blocked   by   the   big   hat   .   “   oh   !   my   hat   ,   my   costume   ,   yes   ⸺   i'm   merlin   .   ”   he   came   back   to   the   question   in   the   end   .   “   a   warlock   ,   i   recently   learned   .   not   one   for   staying   inside   much   to   my   dismay   as   i'm   sure   you   understand   .   ”   giles   recalled   their   comment   on   staying   at   home   ,   and   then   he   wondered   “   are   you   wearing   a   costume   ?   apologies   if   i'm   just   not   recognizing   it   ,   my   pop   culture   references   don't   really   extend   beyond   ancient   texts   and   magical   realism   literature   .   ”

demetria's really a patient person , no matter what people say or even think of their personality . yet , watching him remove glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose - then placing them back on to shake their hand - firm , they'll give them that . of course , their attention flickers from him to their nephew , then back over at the man . not a parent , but a chaperone for the evening , however , it still makes them fully responsible of whatever events happen . " y'know , not many people can pull off a blue hat , " they're speaking with a small tune of a chuckle out their lips , retracting their hand back - stuffing it into one of their pockets , studying the man . " let me guess .. character from a television show ? " ears perked , a small smile worn on their face as they're attempting to guess - nonetheless , their attention going back & forth . " no , it's fine .. to be honest , i don't even want to be here . " shoulders shrugged , brows furrowed in as their nephew explores the station , demetria hoping that he isn't going to put his fingers in the used paints . " demetria . uh , fuck . pleasantries - demetria holland , actually . but you can just .. call me demetria . used to quiet spaces like the library ? i don't .. i'm just - that one over there , " they're pointing to a little boy dressed up as a clown , eyes playfully rolling . " that's my nephew . his parents appointed me to be his chaperone tonight . to be honest , i'm not a get together person . i enjoy staying at home , quiet - i guess . "

[anantaru]

DAY 17 — VIRGINITY LOSS

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — blade, jing yuan

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, first time, virgin! reader, taking your v card, soft & passionate, pussy drunk hsr men

𖧡 — BLADE

the jammed breathes blade expelled from the top of his lungs evidently showcased the current emotions he had been experiencing— and despite him taking his time with his darling, letting you adjust to his throbbing cock without actually hurting you, knowing it was the right route to take, he applauds his self control for being so strong and resilient.

blade doesn't thrust into you after he slides his inches into you, rather did he take dazzling delight in traversing over your thudding desire— he coughs and it's followed by a muttered curse, whilst your own short, pitchy whines were muffled into his neck as they echoed on his flesh.

still shaking from the intrusion, your hips had a mind of their own and tremble as you jerk up a little, desperately seeking more contact of him, you need him faster, stronger, to water down the slight, lingering burn on your creamy hole, a raging fire wavering on his cock when you begin to constrict and let go, clamp on his length before milking him with your warmness.

"b-blade.." your voice breaks into delicate trembles, "you can move now.."

he nods at you, most handsome and alluring before tightening his arms around your body, idle musing being acted out as blade plants a kiss on your forehead— fuck, everything felt different now, especially since you're completely open to him and he doesn't know how to react, or how you're vulnerable from inside and out and blade practically floats at the feeling of a deep satisfaction matching your own.

"how does that feel?" he was continuously content with you, never once looking back to view his own sentiments, the brightest hues of his vulnerabilities exploding inside the humidity of the room— through soft fingertips and passionate gazes, through a steady breathing rattling over your lips and through those sweet words, sinful noises, all combined into one giant sensation weighing above you.

you pant, scrunching your eyes together before folding your arms around his back, "g-good," you whisper, "you feel.. nice," and he smiles at your words, as if your existance was the key to his soul, silencing the gruesome whisperings of doubts in him.

his cock throbs at your mewls, the length hot and wet when he begins to pick up on pace, eagerly gazing down in between your bodies as you took him in, bathing the swelling vehemence of his frame when you accepted him wholly— before blade, your handsome boyfriend, clenches his fists around the silken sheets at the pressure of just how much he loved and craved you.

𖧡 — JING YUAN

you always knew that you won't ever regret giving yourself to someone such as jing yuan— you'd never look back at it with any form of remorse, not one bit, because you utterly loved him and were certain that he was the one.

a breathless heave follows a murmured swear as jing yuan bucks his hips into you, to get a feeling for the situation and reach some guise of control, even though he could barely contain himself right now— for one, the thought about you being, untouched, and him being your first in basically everything, was holding his heart in a choke hold, a bristling warmth on his chest perfectly slotted against your own.

the general loved you so much, realizing that he will forever be in love with you, and between his body and mind, it was an honor to be chosen by you.

"oh... fuck! my love, you're so tight," he grunts, swallowing down the assemblage of saliva in his mouth before kitty licking across your bottom lip, surrendering to your warm pussy trapping him in between, not wanting this moment to end and go on forevermore.

jing yuan was confined inside the tenderness of how good you felt touching him up, taking his inches and gushing around his shaft— but he wants more, he needs to feel more and begins to rock his hips deeper— your creamy arousal sousing over your wrecked insides before dribbling down his balls with every new drag in and out, his head silently slanting forward to have his lips placed on the crown of your head before you both cry out in a plethora of salacious sobs and hasty whispers.

but he still wanted more, needed everything, everything. everything.

it's incredible and your legs ache at his hips keeping them parted with the stinging nerves on your hole shrieking and twisting from being penetrated for the very first time in your life, fusing with the bliss touching you like pins and needles on your wet sex— jing yuan carries on to move in and out, stretching you flawlessly with his weighty dick dripping his pre on your warmness, throbbing against your walls all the while slamming his body on top of yours, your little pussy doing all the work, stroking his hard length— sharp, frantic jerks battering your cunt as you remained enclosed in each others arms.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[luveline]

hi queen 😙

could you please do one where the BAU are staying in another state for a case so they have to stay in a hotel and for some reason hotch has to come see reader in the morning or before bed or something so he knocks on the door of her room and she opens and she’s just standing there with like her hair in two braids and like matching pink pyjamas and hotch just has a little laugh because he’s never seen that side of her before?? 💕💕

this would be like season 1 or 2 hotch :D

cw reader has hair that can be put into two braids

He texts you first but you don't answer. Hotch isn't happy to encroach on your space so early but he can't remember what you said last night about the killer's motivations and he needs to know, desperately, in case this missing piece of the puzzle can stop another young man from being murdered. 

"L/N?" he asks, knocking on the door quickly. "Y/N, are you awake?" 

There's a definite sleeping groan. Hotch winces at the sound but what else can he do? You'll have to wake up in an hour anyway. 

"Y/N? I'm sorry to wake you, but I need to ask you about Cory, last night's victim? You said it seemed more like an arsonist than a murderer, what did you mean by–" 

The door swings open. "...that." Hotch stares at you. 

You have your hair braided away from your face, strands rocked free and frizzy. More amusing is the baby pink pyjamas you're wearing; adorable little slips of fabric, pants that stop mid-calf and a camisole with soft lace at the chest. Hotch immediately looks back to your face as he realises his once over, but he can't hold back a laugh. A small chuckle, harmless. 

"Are you laughing at me?" you ask tiredly, voice croaky but threaded with amusement. "You woke me up, okay? This is your fault. Did you bring me coffee, at least?" 

Hotch puts his empty hands up in defeat. 

"Come in, then, before someone else sees me." 

Hotch follows you inside. He doesn't feel any pressure or awkwardness, but he needs to make sure you aren't either, and so he takes a cross-armed position against the wall. You run your hand down a braid and pull out the elastic, absentminded as you shake out your hair. 

"I said it was more like arson because of the mess. Arsons like to ruin things. And I just don't see how it could be solely pleasure based after such a massacre," —you move to the second braid and repeat the process— "the adrenaline runs out eventually, but the blood was– it was everywhere. It would've taken effort. There are photos on my phone if you want to see." 

You gibe him your phone, open to photographs you took last night. Hotch clicks through them in disgust. Like you said, it takes a lot of effort to make a crime scene look like this. 

"We could be looking for someone with an impulse control disorder," Horch guesses. "Our pool of suspects would completely change. We've been looking for people who have untoward desires centred around teenage boys–" 

"But if we're searching for someone who can't control their impulses we could easily be looking at a teenage boy. He'd have reason to be with his victims that wouldn't cause concern." 

Hotch finds it very difficult to take you seriously in your pinks. He laughs again, and you know exactly what it is he's laughing at, waving him away as you bend down by your suitcase under the desk. "Go sharpen up, Hotchner. And get me a coffee, please." You glance at him from over your shoulder. "I'd like to see you in your pyjamas." 

"I'm sure you would, agent." 

Hotch thinks more than he should about you in your thin pyjamas, the way they hugged your thighs and the naked lengths of your arms, your ankles, he's ridiculous, but it's stuff he's not used to seeing. He's usually so focused. 

He brings you a coffee and an apology croissant, which you eat in pleased silence beside him, fully dressed, hair tamed. He can't not see you as you were that morning, eyes puffy with tiredness but a hundred times the professional he'd been. 

"I can feel you looking at me," you murmur. "Laugh again and I'm telling Gideon." 

"Ah, and he'd reprimand me."  

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" you ask, almost monotone as you drink your coffee. "Do you have the case file for Patrick Gorden? I wanna compare the blood splatter on the walls." 

[ghoclish]

it's   not   that   prue   wasn't   a   private   person   ,   they   just   weren't   a   secretive   one   .   prue   saw   first   hand   the   ways   secrets   could   damage   relationships   ;   the   gashes   they   tore   through   one's   faith   in   another   person   .   they   were   the   kind   of   wounds   that   couldn't   be   stitched   with   apologies   or   gifts   .   only   time   could   mend   it   over   and   even   then   ,   they   always   left   a   scar   .   an   echo   of   the   way   a   trust   had   been   broken   .   to   the   halliwells   trust   meant   everything   .   it   mattered   more   than   attraction   ,   than   personality   ,   (   in   some   cases   )   than   love   itself   .   so   it   mattered   most   to   prue   that   blake   trust   them   more   than   anything   .   even   if   it   meant   being   a   secret   from   their   friends   and   family   .   logically   ,   prue   knew   that   blake's   decision   had   nothing   to   do   with   the   way   she   felt   about   them   .   it   was   the   only   comfort   they   could   grab   onto   whenever   they   were   in   public   and   prue   couldn't   reach   for   her   hand   . “   no   rush   though   .   ”   prue   reassured   .   taking   the   opportunity   in   the   shadows   they   didn't   get   with   the   lights   up   to   keep   blake   close   .   “   we'll   tell   everyone   when   you're   ready   .   ”   prue   tried   to   remove   the   pain   from   their   smile   as   she   issued   it   ,   but   welcomed   the   kiss   blake   leaned   in   to   give   her   .   always   finding   the   sweetest   ways   to   distract   them   from   the   disappointing   reminders   .   “   almost   to   one   huh   ?   ”   prue   easily   played   along   ,   another   quiet   laugh   slipped   past   her   lips   before   she   pursed   their   lips   in   mock   contemplation   .   “   that's   a   real   shame   because   if   you   had   made   it   one   you   could've   gotten   a   super   secret   exciting   surprise   .   ”   their   lips   tsked   as   she   looked   at   the   clock   again   .   “   but   you   didn't   ,   you   only   almost   made   it   .   which   complicates   things   .   ”

blake’s grin widened at prue’s reaction, eyes searching her face with a devious look in her eyes. she enjoyed the thrill of being with them in private. once their friends knew, it was only a matter of time before morgan’s fans knew. once they knew… blake’s dms and comments would be flooded with unwanted opinions — good and bad. if she learned anything since joining morgan’s band, it was that people on the internet would seize the opportunity to band together and critique anything. blake’s outfits on stage, her musical ability, even her partners. once it was on the internet, the fans felt entitled to an opinion. blake wanted to savor the bubble for as long as they could. “just for a little longer. i promise we’ll pop the bubble soon.” with her voice hushed, every movement in the nylon sleeping bag sounded louder. she shook her head, eyes adjusting as she takes in their features in the dark night. “nothing happened — i just missed you.” she shrugged nonchalantly, mouth pressing against prue’s with a soft kiss. “i tried to restrain myself. i set boundaries — i told myself i couldn’t crawl into your sleeping bag until at least midnight.” blake checked the time on her watch, holding it up proudly. “see? i practically made it to one without you.”

[kylosjuul]

Kylo Ren NSFW Alphabet (reupload)

a/n: i posted this last year and here it is again! if ur expecting kylo to be a dom don’t read this. Also, this is AFAB!reader.

——

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Kylo has never had anybody to cherish like this, to hold. So you best believe after sex, he’s planting soft kisses across your face and lips trying to show how lucky he feels to have you; that you gave this gift of intimacy to him. It’s all soft touches and cuddles (fight me on this). He looks at you with a sense of longing, to have this feeling forever. He’ll hold your hand over his heart while you fall asleep on his chest, for it only beats for you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Everything about your body has Kylo red in the face, but he finds his eyes trailing to your thighs and your ass often. Your uniform clings to them tightly, and he feels guilty about how quick his blood pools to his thighs, constantly readjusting his leather pants when you bend down or “accidentally” brush against him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Okay, listen. Kylo has never had any sexual experience so you BEST believe he cums a lot. And hard. Borderline hyperspermia. He’s just so sensitive and you just feel too good wrapped around him. Expect rope after rope of thick cum coating your walls, spilling out of you and down your thighs :D

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You make him hard. A lot. He feels so perverted, especially in the beginnings of your relationship. The soft floral notes of your perfume made his pants constrict, the sweet smell making him dizzy. Every kiss, every brush of your fingers=boner. He was embarrassed. The worst part is the wet dreams. Oh. The dreams. Kylo’s mind would drift to images of you kissing him, sitting on top of him, the warmth between your legs remedying the pressure building in his hips; but he would wake up every time, hard as a rock, spilling into his sleep pants panting your name. Yeah.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Absolute virg. Never even kissed a girl before. The first time you climbed on top of him and started trailing kisses down his neck, he was 100% whipped, almost finishing in his uniform as you rocked against his length. He knew he couldn’t give this up, couldn’t give YOU up.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

A bit simple, but this man lovesss missionary. He gets off when your face twists up in pleasure, knowing he’s the one providing it to you. Plus, he can hear each moan, each sharp intake of breath; Between your face drenched in lust, your sweet sounds, and your tits bouncing with each thrust, this position makes him cum the hardest. (Besides you on top. He’ll dig his fingers into your hips watching himself disappear inside you over and over. yum).

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I’d say Kylo is serious during the deed. He just loves you so much and wants to worship you with every bit of intimacy he has in him. Large calloused palms smoothing back your hair, plush lips sucking on your collarbone, all of it.

“You’re so beautiful. My sweet girl…”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He isn’t the hairiest man in the galaxy, but he does have a bit of hair down south. Nothing too extreme though. Kylo is very hygienic and well groomed, nothing to worry about here!

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

THE MOST INTIMATE. You can see in his eyes how he feels he doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t deserve your soft body beneath him. He treats you as if you’ll break, as if you’re the most precious being in the universe. Constantly asking if you’re okay, or, “Does this feel good?” He loves to serve you. To pleasure you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

As aforementioned, Kylo can’t help how hard he is around you 24/7. If he knows he’s going to see you, he’ll tuck himself away into his refresher and think of your figure, your eyes looking up at him, (that REALLY makes him cum fast) and stroke his cock with a punishing pace, imagining you slamming down on his hips. He feels a tinge of shame as he grits his teeth and releases his load onto the refresher door.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise. He feels his thighs go weak when you drag your fingers through his hair and call him a “good boy.” He’ll look up at you through heavy lids, a silent plea for more soft touches and appraisals. Also, eye contact. If you ever want anything from him, just look up at his through your eyelashes and he’ll blush like a madman, giving you whatever it is you crave.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a very private person and extremely jealous, so he prefers to fuck you in your shared quarters. Nowhere else. Okay, maybe in his TIE, but that’s only when you beg him so sweetly; and who is he not to give his girl whatever she wants?

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Yes. Just yes. A kiss that lingers a second too long, his name on your lips (in any context), your soft hand following the curve of his jaw. He’s a goner. If you want to torture the man, wear a low cut top around him, he’ll be desperately grabbing at your hips in no time.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything involving someone else. He’s a jealous, jealous man. All these fics about him sharing you with the KOR….girl. A big no no is anything related to degradation. Attention all Kylo writers! He would never even DREAM of calling you names or hurting you in any way. You’re his precious girl and he just loves you so so much:(

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Virgin, remember? The first time you sucked his cock, he’s was a panting mess, brows furrowed, low moans punched from his chest, finishing in your mouth in under a minute. After a few times together, you guided him on how to eat pussy, and he definitely prefers watching your hips rock up into his face, coming undone from his warm tongue. (Kylo will never admit this, but while he was eating you out he rocked against the mattress like a rabid dog, cumming all over his stomach, a pool of his spend spreading over the sheets. Yeah, he prefers giving).

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on how much time you’ve spent apart. If he hasn’t seen you for a week, (missions, supreme leader shit) he’ll fuck into you with a strong and punishing pace, still careful not to hurt you, though. If it’s a normal day, he’ll slowly rock into you, dragging his cock along your walls in a sensual way, but you usually beg him to speed up, pushing you further and further up the mattress.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Kylo is a simp. He will take whatever you so kindly gift him with. You get to fuck your man whenever you so please. He gives it to you no matter the time. Day or night. He’s just so excited there’s a GIRL who wants him, his cock, this badly.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Nah. Not really. He’d rather savor the sex, instead of constantly looking over his shoulder. But if you drag him into a storage closet aboard and start massaging him through his leather, who is he to say no?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Hate to burst any bubbles here, but he’s completely inexperienced, so don’t expect him to last very long, at least not at first. He physically has to tense his muscles, eyes squeezed shut in concentration, trying so hard NOT to blow his load the second your tight wet heat engulfs his cock. His skin is flaming hot, but he’s shivering above you, groans emanating from his slacked jaw, trying to fight the way his balls draw up, the way his stomach muscles tighten already.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Are sex toys canon in Star Wars? Someone please lmk. But my answer is going to be no for now!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kylo doesn’t have to tease you, like, at all. You just want him so bad all the time and he still doesn’t understand why. However. You’re quite the tease, and this poor virgin can’t take it. Seriously, if you want to see the mighty Kylo Ren crumble, all you need to do is press a chaste kiss to his lips, put a hand on his thigh, look at him, or just breathe basically, and he’ll be hard and wanting in seconds. I love our space boyfriend.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Ben Swolo can make some NOISE lemme tell ya. It’s all low groans and grunts, so caught up in the heat of your body and how fucking tight you are around him. No matter how hard he tries to contain the noises that slip from his throat, he can’t help it. He’ll confidently moan and moan in your ear, minted breath hitting your cheek, letting you know his pleasure is solely from you, and you alone.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Kylo is what we call a service top. He would do anything to put your pleasure first, his own pleasure depends on that. He had never cum harder than that first time you clamped around his cock, finally feeling your orgasm around him. Lights flickered and whirred; it was…intense.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hung like a moose omg who said that? Anyways. My guess is 7-8 inches. Good luck girl.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Siri play ‘Everyday’ by Ariana Grande please. Seriously. He feels fucking insane with how bad he wants to be buried in you at all times. Whether he’s tired, beaten or bruised, you could catch a dick anytime.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Kylo will eventually fall asleep cuddled up next to you, but not until he allots himself a few minutes to admire your beauty, running his thick fingers through your hair, kissing your temple until he sees you eyes flutter shut. Awe. Whatta softie.

[gojosdove]

Jerking off Nanami during a meeting :33

You and Nanami we’re currently stuck in one of the most boring meetings of both of your lives. Your boss yapping about sales, blah blah blah, honestly it’s going in one ear and out the other for both of you. You rest your elbow on the table with your palm holding up your chin as you check your watch. Seeing as you have around 30 minutes left of this meeting, you sigh and lean back in your chair.

Nanami on the other hand was currently fighting a large tent in his pants that decided to come out at the absolute most awful time. His facial expressions match everyone’s in the room—bored. You take a glance at him to smile sweetly and the second you make eye contact, you notice, something is off. Although his expression is rather normal Nanami is sweating heavily. You quirk a brow at him and he tries to simply shake his head to dismiss any thoughts you may have about him not being okay. But you know Nanami, you’re his girlfriend, you understand his body like the back of your hand as he does yours, and you smile to yourself.

Nanami starts to ever so slightly shift his legs in an attempt to hide his boner, you notice this and take his hand in yours and start rubbing circles on his knuckles, which by the way, is not helping his cock go down. He quickly gives you a slight smile and a fast nod as he tries to avert his attention back onto the meeting, but fails. Kento takes ahold of your hand and slowly puts it on top of his lap, his goal was to try to make you understand his situation (although you knew) and maybe you’d stop touching him so he’d at least be able to maintain his boner. But no, to you this was simply an inviting invitation! So you squeeze his cock through the tight fabric of his pants and he jolts slightly. Grabbing your wrist tightly, Nanami looks at you with pleading eyes. Honestly he’s not sure if he wants you to touch him or stop, but he never clearly answers that so you continue. You smile sweetly, innocently, as you drag your fingers up and down his covered length.

Nanami has his eyes glued forward as to not draw any un wanted attention. You’re shocked he’s let you go this far, normally, at least around other co workers, Nanami keeps the pda to a minimum, mostly ass grabbing and kisses but that’s about it. You start to grab his aching cock and apply pressure, squeezing it and rubbing it up and down. Nanami has a slight blush on his face, trying his absolute hardest to not move or make a sound. You let go and start rubbing his thigh sensually, drawing shapes into his leg and once again your hand finds itself back on his swollen clothed cock. You slowly drag your fingers up to the button of his pants and undo them without trying to draw any attention. You very gently pull down his zipper and stick your hand inside his pants, just above his boxers and rest your hand on his throbbing ache. There’s no rush in your touch as you simply sit there, thinking what you’re gonna do next. Nanami, at least on the outside, looks fine, but deep down he’s not only highly aroused but also fearing someone might see and him lose his job over it. But alas you’re too far to stop now so he lets you continue with a slight squeeze to your wrist as he sets his hand casually back down on the table in front of him.

You stroke him through the confines of his boxers and tighten your hand around his clothed cock, moving your fingers up slightly to grip the waistband. Now, you want to just whip his cock out and make him a mess underneath you but you know Nanami would never let you do that, for obvious, reasonable reasons, so you opt to just stroke him in his boxers. You slide your hand inside and your chilly fingertips brush up against his warm length and it makes him shiver. You wrap your small fingers (small in comparison to his dick-) around him and start to stroke him, agonizingly slow. You bring your thumb up and circle his hot, red tip to spread pre cum around. You start to slowly pump him, up and down, up and down, Nanami is holding back everything in him to not groan. Normally Nanami was silent during blow jobs, hand jobs, and just about everything else minus his extreme dirty talking, praise and the occasional moan or groan. But he accidentally slips out the tiniest grunt and it goes straight to your ears, making your clit throb. You bring your thumb back up to rub his milky, sticky slit, making him gulp. You knew since he was pent up he wasn’t going to last much longer, and in an attempt to make him finish before this meeting, you apply pressure to his tip, slowly releasing as you reach his base. Your fingers slightly graze his full sack making Nanamis breath hitch. A cute little idea comes to mind, what if you didn’t let Nanami cum, I mean the mess would just be oh so hard to clean and you wouldn’t want him to have a big wet patch on his clothes now would you! You know for a fact if you take your hands of Nanami, he would likely ruin you for hours when you got home and the idea excited you. So with one last squeeze to his tip, you remove your hand, just as Nanami was going to finish. He knows you’re teasing him, the second you let go he deadpans to you, pretty much indicating with his eyes that you indeed, made him angry. You smile sweetly and hold your sticky hand up and show him your watch, shrugging, acting as if you don’t have the time, which you don’t but Nanami didn’t care, he wanted to finish not be left stimulated and throbbing.

You wipe your hand on Nanamis thigh and zip up his pants for him. When you button his slacks he grabs your wrist hard, and glares at you, it feels like he’s shooting daggers into your body with how sharp his stare is but oh, your just his sweet girlfriend, not “knowing” what you did wrong so you just smile and go back to listening to the meeting. Once the meeting ends you and Nanami get up to leave as well as the rest of the other workers in the room. When you enter the hallway to go to your office Nanami grabs your upper arm harshly and brings you into his office.

"I’m not waiting to get home to punish you, sweetheart."

[badboysupr]

Man, Leo couldn’t wait to tell his friends about this. Guess who I got to bond over relatable experiences with . . . ? And, hey, before you say anything, we have more in common than just good looks, let me tell you— They probably wouldn’t believe him. Might even laugh in his face for suggesting it at all. (Gods, should he, like, get an autograph or something to be extra sure?) A couple of them would chastise him for so nonchalantly having a conversation like this . . . to which Leo would very gladly announce Jim had started it, so.

Either way, they were here now. Whether anyone in the future would believe what happened in the now.

And as the captain’s tone trickled into something maybe a little more suitable for the topic (darn), Leo felt a new anxious energy bound like static through his veins. He nodded along to his words, then did one of those Cool Guy shrugs like they were discussing something as simple as a papercut. (Those hurt like a mother, though, so really—)

“Jeez; add that to my list of Top Ten Questions I Never Thought Someone Would Ask Me,” Leo murmured, mostly to himself as that restlessness bled into a hand grazing through his hair. “Probably not, uh . . . nearly as heroic as your sitch.” He passed Jim a little simper, which maybe wasn’t exactly awesome of him: to poke fun like this—but how else did someone cope, right?

Usually by doing anything other than what you do, Valdez.

“It was, like, an explosion, I guess . . . ? Y’know, details are, uh . . . fuzzy, all things considered. Didn’t really take the time to write a memoir about it or anything.” There he went, almost shrugging again. Leo forcibly kept his shoulders in place. “It’s weird. I don’t actually really . . . feel any different because of it. Do, uh— Do you?”

𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 was sculpted from the womb to be a heroic captain,   a photocopy image of his father,   so much so that his childhood shattered because of his similarities to a man who traded his life to keep baby Jim  &  his mother alive.   however,   Kirk’s mother never entirely made it out alive that day as she was never the same.   Jim was broken pieces of a lonely childhood  &  the sinking feeling of abandonment.

nothing glorious about his upbringing or self-destruction until the Enterprise steered him on the right path.    &  there’s   NOTHING   glorious about death either  &  to talk about it with someone younger in the manner he does    ?!

it just feels...   weird.   it’s wrong ! no one young should relate to this.

❝    it was awful,   but i had to save my crew.    ❞         he replies honestly   ;   worry creases on his forehead at the idea of Leo suffering like he had.      ❝    i hope not.   though technically,   it’s a thing that everyone will do at least once,   right     ?    ❞         that sounded funnier in his head.   is he being a good role model     ?  he’s unclear.          ❝    nah,   just call me Jim  or stick to sir,   whatever is more comfortable for you.   i don’t mind.    ❞         he adds,   his internal battle for befalls his lips next evident in his soured expression.

❝    so how did you...   die     ?    ❞

[pia-nor481]

Oscar Piastri NSFW alphabet

A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex?)

Always cuddles, whether she's resting on his chest or him on hers. I definitely see him being lazy afterwards and is all "do we have to get up, it's so comfortable" but he knows better and does so with a groan.

B-Body part (what is their favourite part of theirs and their partner?)

He actually really likes his cock. Not overly sure why but just does. But also his hands, they can do a lot.

I don’t think there’s one part of his partner that he doesn’t like. But he like boobs. Always has and always will. Seeing them is a pretty bra just gets him off. But he will always have an appreciation for ass.

C-Cum (anything to do with cum)

Oscar likes things MESSY. He will happily cum absolutely anywhere, and he comes a lot. Also taking into consideration Australia's circumcision rate of 10-20% (depending on where you look) I reckon he isn't, and so is very sensitive, so it's quite easy to make him cum.

D-Dirty secret (just a dirty secret of theirs)

I think he might really like the idea of someone watching, he’s a bit of a voyeur. Not many would believe he’s so fantastic in bed. So he’s like someone else to see and say so. Not that her body language doesn’t tell him that. He’s a bit of a show off at times. But it’s always hot.

E- Experience (how experienced are they)

Not very, but he's so willing to learn!! He wants to make her cum because she deserves. If he eats her out he doesn't expect anything back, but he'd never complain. I think he likes to do research and wants to try it out, so immediately he's telling her about this thing and he's all giddy.

F- Favourite position

Oscar loves so many positions!!! He really likes straddling positions where she's on top; any variation of cowgirl or where she's sat in his lap. But he also likes to be on top;any variation of missionary, but in particular when she has her legs around his waist and hands in his hair.

G- Goofy (how serious are they in the moment)

Definitely a mix of both. There's definitely times where nothing arousing or particularly intimate has occurred yet he really wants sex. Or times where they could have a pretty normal conversation while getting railed. But he like more serious sex too- he likes to focus on pleasure-not just cumming.

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)

I think Oscar's hair is the same colour. But I think he's very well groomed, although he's okay with mess (have you seen his drivers room?) I think this would be something he's quite picky about. Always trimmed to a nice length. Have you seen his happy trail? I think he’d be a little scared of razor burn (probably happened once and was suffering) so avoids them like the plague, unless she offers for him when in the shower ;)

I- Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Romantic? Pleasure driven?)

I’m lead to believe he’s very romantic, he wants to show her how passionate he is. He loves her with all of his heart, and what better way to show that than pleasure. He knows that the build up to an orgasm is just as fun as the final climax so he isn’t always desperate to cum.

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

In my mind he doesn’t masturbate often, but when he does he likes to tease. He uses such light pressure that he can’t get anywhere close to cumming. Or he’s so desperate that his main focus is the head, he just rubbing an open palm against the tip, moaning while is eyes roll back. However he doesn’t like to Jack off, he’d prefer her hand or mouth.

K- Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

Switch- if it wasn’t made obvious I think he’s the perfect example of a switch. He’s equally as submissive as dominate, and it makes for a really good sex life. With his dominance, I think it comes mainly position and instruction; there will be times where he just picks her up by the waist, places her on the nearest surface and just fucks her brainless

Bottoming- is this even a kink? Well it’s here now. I think this came about from his little research moment, he saw a lot about how much pleasuring the g-spot could heighten his orgasm and practically begged for it.

Temperature play- I think ties into a fondness for toys. But also, now hear me out, when he’s getting a bj and there’s lots of spit on his cock, he likes when she blows air onto it, giving a cooling sensation.

Voice/sound- he loves when there’s some kind of music playing, but he also loves just hearing her voice, maybe it’s because he likes being told what to do.

Praise/degradation- this can be read in the context of either dom or sub. But he’s loves degradation with a mix of praise. “Such a slut, so good for me.” Praise him because he derives it!! But call him a slut for looking at lando like that. Oscar loves to give praise after sex, sweet nothings and pillow talk is his specialty if he’s coherent.

L- Location (their favourite place)

I’m going to have to be basic in saying the bedroom. However not just the bed. Say you’re picking out some clothes from the wardrobe, if you’re trying things on, you should know it’s not long until you’re being pushed up against the door.

Round two in the shower are a must.

M- Motivation (what gets them going?)

He really likes dirty talk, but the subtle kind. Or if you whisper in his ear out in public “I can’t wait to get home and have your cock in my mouth” he’s already semi hard. “I think it’s time we leave”

Lingerie- I imagine him to really like baby dolls or really pretty/ intricate bras and panties.

N- No (what turns them off)

CNC-he can’t see the appeal of it.

Spanking- I’m talking more about 5+ with the intention of it really hurting/being a punishment. He definitely likes to tap her ass. But not leave it so red and sore that she can’t sit.

O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving. Skill)

I think he may slightly prefer giving. Just seeing the pleasure he can give with his tongue/hands. He’s very skilled in eyes, I think that he’s desperate to please and so found different techniques to see what would work best. Oscar *fuck me eyes* Piastri like to be on his knees while you ride his face. However, when he sees how enthusiastic she is about blowing him, how can he say no?

P- Pace (Are they fast or slow? Rough or sensual?)

He definitely prefers slow and sensual, but he does like it rough from time to time. He knows variety is super important and is very willing to give that. I think post race win!Oscar definitely likes hardcore, he feels like he deserves it.

Q- Quickie (their opinions on them? How often?)

I think he can see the appeal and is quite happy that he can cum pretty fast, the risk of it is nice so he does enjoy them. But he would definitely prefer hours long to have his way with you.

R- Risk (will they experiment? Do they take risks?)

He loves to experiment. He knows to switch up his technique every so often, switching from deep thrusting to short and shallow. The following week maybe he tries to milk her g-spot. He will always keep it interesting

S- Stamina (how many rounds do they go for?)

I believe he can go for quite a few rounds but he has a long refractory period. You have to wait quite a few minutes to even dare to touch his cock after cumming. But it will take him a while to cum again. But he’s easy to overstimulate

T-Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? On a partner or themself?)

Absolutely loves them!! His personal favourite are vibrators. He loves using them on her, as well as on himself. If he was really spending the whole night focusing on her, his mouth and hands will need a break. So he’s ready to get out a rabbit or a wand. He might like handcuffs but it can be a spur of the moment thing, even if he’s in control. The first time he used one (a vibe) on himself he came in under five minutes, and overstimmed himself. He didn’t focus on the shaft enough. But he later realised to use a slow vibration and apply less pressure. His favourite dildo is 6-inches btw.

U-Unfair (how much do they tease?)

He loves being teased but not edged. When he wants to cum he should be allowed to!! Or he’ll pout. Slowing down while blowing him is one of his favourite things. But he also loves to tease back. He’s NOT all talk. He’ll make you wait for hours before you’re allowed to cum. Only kissing around your cunt. Or just twisting/sucking your nipples. But you won’t cum. Foreplay is a favourite of his.

V-Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

When dimming he’s not quiet, but not loud. He’s definitely making noises. He groans and had a very low moan. But the more he cums the higher and louder the moans become. He’s very breathy if that makes sense.

W-Wild card (a random headcanon)

He really loves flavoured lube. He’s got all of the fruity ones in the bedside table. He just thinks it’s nice to spice it up as lube isn’t just used on his cock or her cunt. Yes he does like whipped cream and sweet sauces, so he cheats on his diet quite often.

X-X-ray (how big are they?)

Definitely more thick. Although I can imagine 6/7 inches I’m not sure why.

Y- Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Not very, he just gets very caught up in the moment. So one day he’ll be begging for hours on end for pleasure as if he didn’t have morning sex or didn’t bend her over the sofa two hours ago. Other days he just doesn’t feel like cumming at all. But if you asked he’d definitely eat you out, or grab one of the many toys scattered around his messy room. Overall some days are 0/10 others 10/10

Z-Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

Oscar Piastri sleepy boy confirmed. He loves his sleep so much, so pretty quick; especially it was very sensual and romantic. But if the sex was more rough I think the adrenaline would keep him up for quite a while.

Help why is he so pale. Like you’re from Australia babe, how are you as white as me. (I’ve not stepped foot in the sun for 3 years.)

[ipegchangbin]

I have not stopped thinking about seungmin with a pussy being a squirter since you said it. People around me keep asking why my eyes keep glazing over and I keep zoning out, I’m busy dreaming up new positions to absolutely wreck that pussy in

….its a decent sized problem, I can’t focus 😭

you inspired me to write more. this is my problem now too

— boypussy seungmin headcanons

18+ only. minors do not interact.

🏷️ sub!boypussy!seungmin, dom!amab!reader. squirting. dacryphilia. reader has a cock.

— no doubt a squirter. he squirts almost without warning, like it just happens. he gets so wet so easily to the point you’d think that was it, until he holds your hand and warns you in the softest voice that he’s going to cum. when he actually squirts, it’s a powerful stream of sweet cum that you can’t get anywhere else.

— seungmin’s the shy type. he likes to hide his face behind his hands while you’re fingering him. you tell him to show his pretty face and he simply shakes his head no, but in reality he’s just too shy. you have to pry your hands away from his sweater paws just to see his flushed cheeks and teary eyes. he’s such a sight to see, and he has the pussy to match it.

— speaking of his pussy, seungmin’s got a well-groomed and beautiful cunt. his folds sit nicely, outer lips just thick enough to hide his inner lips when you’re not playing with it. his clit is delightfully small yet sensitive. it’s the best when you suck it swollen because his whole cunt blooms in response, dripping wet with need as the overwhelmed seungmin pleads for you to help him cum.

— his cum tastes amazing. like any other person’s squirt, the consistency of his cum is runny yet interesting, but the taste is to die for. it’s particularly sweet but not overwhelmingly so; he has a tinge of a savory taste that feels like the sweat of a fairy that you can’t quite pinpoint. he smells amazing, too: even after digging your head in his cunt and smelling pussy, it’s a clean, fresh pussy at that.

— seungmin squirts the most when you’re fucking him with his body folded. he loves but would never admit that putting him in a mating press, locking his limbs together, or squeezing his thighs tight against your body, all get him going. maybe it’s the pressure of contorting his body in different positions that makes his pussy tighten against your length, maybe it’s the way that his folded body makes his sweet spot hit the head of your cock better. seungmin loves it as much as you do.

— prepare to comfort him, he cries when he cums. he doesn’t cry because it hurts, but rather the opposite. it’s easy to overwhelm this boy but it’s an honest treat to see the tears stream down his face as he squirts all over you. for a clean pussy, he makes the biggest mess when he cums; his squirt gets on your cock, on his tummy, on your hands, everywhere. it makes him cry a lot more and he isn’t sure why but you savor the tears nonetheless.

— he still gushes even if you’re done with him. there’s no science that can explain why his cunt keeps gushing even while you’re cuddling after sex. it’s adorable that his body still chases the need. his cunt even twitches and clenches for minutes on end. perhaps that’s why he especially craves your cock stilling inside his pussy when you’re both done.

— in reality, seungmin loves his own squirt. you once fed him your cock after he squirted all over it, and after getting a taste of himself, he’d crave it over and over again. since then, seungmin would ask you to kiss him after eating him out. you’d collect his juices on your fingers and rest it on his tongue. he thinks it’s nasty but seungmin craves it, maybe because he’s as much of a freak as you are.

— as a bonus, seungmin can’t finish by squirting once. he always has to squirt at least twice. if his own cum keeps you going, it keeps him going too. are you ready to get this boy wet all over again?

[gracland]

felix didn't think she would agree without giving him some pushback, but he sure wasn't about to question this golden opportunity to take her out. "i don't believe in regrets." he replies in an equally playful quip as he helped alodie onto the grassy front lawn of her home. "no such thing as a curfew tonight either." his lips turn upwards into a lighthearted smirk as he led her to his car parked out nearer to her neighbor's to avoid suspicion. "one of the producers is throwing an impromptu thing at this tapas bar, so there'll be plenty of familiar faces. you're more than welcome to stick by me, though." moments later, they reach their destination, the distant vibrations of house music and conversation hitting his eardrums and ushering in a shot of anticipation for the night to come. he could feel her apprehension from a mile away, immediately grabbing her a hand and giving it a squeeze. "i promise this party won't bite." he flashes her a reassuring smile before gently tugging her along.

alodie gives in to his antics, not often where she's granted an opportunity like this. she's sure she'll regret it in the morning, when her manager finds out and scolds her for it, but she's not concerned with that now. all too focused on taking felix's hand in hers so she can balance herself as she climbs through the window. finds it ironic that even at her age, she's still sneaking out of her childhood bedroom like a schoolgirl. ❛ please don't make me regret this. ❜ words are spoken playfully, once her feet are planted on the ground.

[0cta9on]

Sunburn

Length: 1.6k words

Genre: Fluff

Young Posse Sunhye x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Something short and sweet. Still working on that other draft I mentioned before :> Enjoy!)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

“If only you applied yourself.”

“If only you paid more attention in class.”

“If only you stopped doodling in your notebook.”

The hum of the prehistoric monitor sitting before you is a familiar tune, yet one that doesn’t cease to fill you with dread. Every year, you’re met with the same song and dance about your troublesome grades, and every year, they think the best solution is to shove you into the computer lab for hours on end with the other unfortunate knuckleheads. It’s less of a summer school and more of an excuse to keep the “troublemakers” off the streets while the good little boys and girls get to actually enjoy their summer.

Admittedly, it could be worse. The geriatric dinosaur of a teacher always dozes off in the first 10 minutes of class, leaving the rest of you to your own devices. Everyone else has already formed their own little cliques that you have no desire to be a part of, so you’re content with messing around on MS paint for the better part of two hours.

You lean back in your chair, stretching out the pain in your lower back. Not your best work, but it’s the best you can do while drawing with a mouse.

“Cool drawing.”

“Hm?” Your head snaps towards the voice, being met with a soft pair of eyes and a modest bob cut, both of which are strikingly unfamiliar. “Oh. Thanks.”

 “I like the shading and stuff. Makes it really pop.”

“Yeah…” you murmur awkwardly, unsure of what to make of this interaction. The girl gives you a nod before looking back at her own computer, watching some dance video with the volume muted. Has she always been sitting next to you?

The bell rings before you can linger on the moment any longer, and you’re out the door faster than the teacher can put on her glasses correctly. Right before the computer lab exits your view, you catch a glimpse of the girl snapping a photo of the drawing on your computer.

______________________________________________________________

“Hey!”

As you enter the computer lab once again, you see the same girl from yesterday eagerly waving you down. You look behind you to see if she’s talking to someone else, but nope, her vibrant gaze and buck toothed smile are aimed right at you.

“Um, hey.” You take your usual seat, which, unbeknownst to you for God knows how long, is right next to hers. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“I don’t know, shouldn’t you be asking yourself that?” she shoots back.

Her strange response leaves you stunned in your chair, searching your memory for a face that matches hers. Maybe she’s an old friend from your childhood or someone you’ve worked on a project with and promptly forgot about. However, nothing comes up other than the sudden interaction from yesterday.

“I guess… I don’t know you?” you say to yourself more than her. She chuckles at you, finding amusement in your confusion.

“I’ll make it easy for you: No, we’ve never met before yesterday.”

You sigh, already exhausted by her odd behavior. “Okay…” You pull up MS paint, hoping she’ll leave you alone, but of course, your prayers fall on deaf ears.

“What are you gonna draw today?” she asks, leaning a bit too close for comfort.

“Uh, I don’t know yet,” you reply, “Whatever comes to me, I guess.”

“Cool.” She nods in contemplation. “So, is that, like, your creative process or—”

“Hey, you two!” the teacher croaks out. “No talking!” 

You give her an apologetic look, sinking deeper into your chair as the heat rushes to your cheeks from the unwanted attention. Hopefully the sudden spike in her blood pressure won’t keep her up longer than she usually is. The last thing you need is this octogenarian raisin breathing down your neck alongside the weirdo sitting next to you.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for her to knock out on her desk, albeit a couple minutes later than she usually does. A cautious glance to the side reveals the girl wearing big headphones, bobbing along to a music video on the computer, leaving you to doodle on the screen to your heart’s content.

You don’t really have a process for these things; if you’re given the luxury of time and solitude, maybe you’ll take a breath to figure out a clear picture to capture onto whatever canvas you’re working with. But on today of all days, you let the lines speak for themselves while you think about everything except drawing. What you had for breakfast this morning. What you’re planning on doing later. What the cute girl in your pre-calc class might be doing right now. Anything to pass the time that doesn’t involve more than a hint of effort to think about.

Oftentimes, the end product is a surprise to you. Whatever it is that you’ve been holding inside manifests itself onto the screen in a mess of lines and pixels. Last week, it was the piece of cake you had for dessert the night before. Yesterday, it was a character from a show you just started watching. Today, it’s…

“Is that me?”

A whisper from the side makes you jump in your seat. “W-what?”

“Your drawing.” The girl points up at your screen, wearing a thin smile and glint of intrigue in her eyes. “That looks like me.”

You scoff at her. “No, it’s not—” A single glance is all you need to learn the horrifying truth. Normally, anything you create with a mouse is subpar to what you can do with a pencil, but this - It’s way better than anything you could ever hope to produce on paper.

The soft texture of her hair, the gentle puff of her cheeks, hell, you even included the chunky headphones she’s wearing. You might as well have asked her to jump onto the screen for you.

“Th-that’s not… I-I didn’t…” you stutter, desperately searching for a reasonable explanation that you don’t have.

“It’s fine,” she says, “Crushes are perfectly normal for boys your age.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. “I-I don’t have a…! I don’t even know you!”

She reaches a hand towards you, flashing a cheeky smirk at your expense. “Sunhye.”

“Well, Sunhye,” you sneer, ignoring her attempt at a handshake, “It’s not you. It’s, uh, some other girl.”

“Right.” She raises an eyebrow at you, clearly not convinced. “Maybe you should stick to drawing, I don’t think your acting career will get very far.”

“W-whatever.” You hurriedly try to close out the window, ridding yourself of the mess that you accidentally created, but a soft touch against your hand sends a wave of electricity through your body, freezing you in place.

“Wait! Let me take a pic first!” Sunhye exclaims, her hand on top of yours. She snaps a picture, giggling to herself, while you’re left to sit there like an idiot.

“This is pretty cool, you should consider doing this for a living,” she teases.

“Uh… Yeah. Thanks.”

The bell rings, and you’re out the door before she can say another word. Not even the summer sun can compare to the heat dancing on your cheeks.

______________________________________________________________

The monotonous drone of the computers is a lot louder today without Sunhye bugging you. Peace at last, you think - but five minutes into class, before the teacher has even begun to nod off, you find yourself stealing glances at the empty seat next to you, almost expecting her to suddenly appear out of thin air.

A weird feeling finds its home in the pit of your stomach as you stare at the blank screen in front of you, void of any inspiration. You even consider actually doing your assignments for once to pass the time, but you’re not that bored. You have access to the entire world at your fingertips, yet all you can seem to do is rest your head on the table and wait until the bell rings.

“Let’s get out of here.”

A familiar voice whispers lightly against your ear, you almost believe it to be a trick of the mind. And yet, the hand nudging against your shoulder feels very, very real.

You look up, finding yourself face to face with a soft pair of eyes and a modest bob cut. “What?” you ask her.

“I said let’s get out of here,” Sunhye reiterates. “It’s clear neither of us are here to do any actual work, so let’s go.”

“B-but…” You take a quick scan of the room. The teacher is knocked out and the rest of the students are doing what they’ve always done, paying the two of you no mind. It would be so easy to just dip out without a second thought. Too easy not to raise a few red flags, really.

“Where would we even go?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Who cares?”

A cheeky grin grows on your face, mirroring the expression she’s been holding this whole time. You’re not the smartest person on the planet, and no amount of schooling or stern talking-to’s will ever change that. Maybe you’re not destined to be some bigwig doctor, but surely there’s more to life than sitting in front of a computer and waiting for something to happen, right?

And so, you take this strange girl’s hand and you run like crazy until your legs feel like anchors and each breath creates fire in your lungs. Your shoes squeak against the linoleum floor before meeting the heated concrete outside, each step punctuated with a kick of dust in its wake. In the moment, it feels like sweat stains and burning skin, but it’s all very picturesque in your memory, frame by frame ripped straight from a stylistic indie film. In the sea of summers spent wasting your time, this one feels like the first cold shock of dipping your toe into the ocean, waking you up to experience the rest of your life with open eyes.

[delfiore]

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (1/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you were ona’s biggest headache at man united, until you both move to barcelona.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i’ve been watching the men’s game for years but i’ve finally sobered FINAL TODAY LET’S GO ENGLAND LET’S GO SPAIN (MOSTLY SPAIN)

PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V

It started four years ago when Ona first signed for United. She didn’t notice at first the way you were always gunning for her, she was just doing her job.

But now, you were here in Barcelona with her. As she looked up at you, a soft smile on your face, everything she had buried in the past year all came rushing back.

Everyone was aware of the new signing from the States for her rival club just a couple of weeks before, a dragged-out saga of whether you were going to choose City or United. Unfortunately for her, you chose the Sky Blues.

If things had been different, maybe she wouldn’t have despised you as much as she did.

The first Manchester derby you played, she thought marking you would be easy until you dribbled past her several times to register a goal and assist. She must have been glowering at you when she walked back to the midfield line, because you shrugged before grinning at her, saying: “All in a day’s work.”

“Could I just ask what put Man City above all the other contenders for your signature?” “Well, I mean, it’s a great club with a great history, amazing players too. I’ve spoken at length with the new manager and he gave me a rough plan for next year’s project. So I’m really excited and confident that it’ll be a great destination for me.” “What do you say to the people who think you’ve chosen City for the money?” “People can think whatever they want to think. I’ll just play my game, and they can judge me all they want. It’s all anyone’s good for.” “You’ve just transferred from Portland, you’ve got an enormous price tag for the women’s game, tons of big clubs in Europe wanted you. There’s a mounting pressure on you, it seems. Do you think you’ll be up for the challenge of the Women’s Super League?” “It’s no fun if it’s not a challenge.”

Ona Batlle was what people considered a modern full-back, dangerous in attack just as she was solid in defense. But when playing against Man City, she usually has to stay back to avoid a dangerous winger finding their way into the box; you. It wasn’t her way of playing, and it frustrated her that that was what her role was while her team was struggling to create chances, especially when she knew she could help.

“I want you to stay back and mark Y/L/N. Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight,” Casey had told her.

She hated you for caging her in, and the worst part was she wasn’t sure if she can stop you sometimes.

The night before her next game against you, she watched how you played the previous match, studied your movement carefully, and took notes. She liked that she had found a pattern. You liked to use your speed, but you also liked to taunt your defenders; a pace of prime Thierry Henry’s, and showboating tendencies like that of Neymar. It’s why you were so entertaining to watch, because every defender you faced ended up a sort of decoration to your parlor tricks, her included.

Ona never liked being second best to anybody, and certainly not to you.

And so when she was on the pitch, zeroing on you like a hawk, there was nothing stopping her from getting away from you. She didn’t need to resort to any risky challenges, she just needed to stick with you, keep you at arm’s length, and stay between you and the goal at all costs.

You may be a skilled player for your age, but controlling your temper is something you haven’t been able to achieve. She heard you cursing a few times, eventually earning you a yellow card when your insults were directed at the referee.

The ball had only left the City’s goalkeeper, Roebuck, yet she already felt you pushing back against her.

The game ended 3-1 for United, but she was secretly much happier that she had managed to piss you off so much, that you didn’t bother shaking hands with her afterwards.

“Congratulations, Ona. A huge victory for United. What do you think went well today?” “I think that our plans worked because we practiced and showed what we’re able to do. We didn’t have a lot of possession, but we focused on the counterattacks, and I think that definitely was a very effective tactic today.” “I have to ask you about Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been a formidable player in the league until now, and notoriously difficult to defend against, but she was practically silenced today on the left-hand side. Do you think you had something to do with that?” “I think what I’ve prepared in defense has worked out, for sure. I’ve also got my teammates to thank for covering the grounds for me. Y/L/N is a good player, and it’s always a joy to play against her.”

Her rivalry with you continued, and soon even the press was picking up on it. Manchester derbies now included Y/L/N v. Batlle, and everyone was predicting what crazy thing would happen next. It wasn’t common for defenders to make waves in the paper compared to superstar strikers or even midfielders unless they were linked with a big move. But soon Ona was reading about herself in the news, how she has defended Manchester United’s left wing with an iron grip, how they started calling her la matadora, for her ability to hold off forwards and tame them like bullfighters do.

One bull remained to be tamed though, and her conundrum continued into her second season at United.

Unlike her, you seemed to take the new breath of fame easily enough. Day in and day out, there were news of you scoring goals and bringing Man City to the top of the table by November.

You were born to be a star.

But Ona knew from shooting stars in the game that burned out too quickly; if you let what’s outside the pitch get to you, you might as well just leave it altogether. You might have been a good player, on your way to becoming a great one even, but you did have a flare for the dramatics which riled up the press quite a bit. If she was lucky, maybe the pressure would take you out of the game before she does.

International breaks were times she always look forward to, being able to represent her country. Even if they were friendly matches, she knew Spain was always being watched, as a team’s form was important on the world stage. The team would play two friendly matches, the first one being against Brazil and the other against the United States. Some friendly fixtures . . .

Brazil was a breeze, mainly because she wouldn’t have to face her biggest adversary. Naturally, you were called up to your national team, and the back-and-forth game persisted.

She had played against you many times at club level, but the way you played for your country was something else. There was more passion to the way you weave your way through defenders, more flare to your shots. It could also be the adrenaline of being called up for the first time, and wanting to prove yourself—she knew that feeling well.

It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that when a long ball was played over the defense line and Marta Cardona was on her way towards goal, you’d be there to strike her down right at the edge of the box. Her teammates appealed, and the referee paused the game, but all Ona saw was red. With a speed she didn’t know she had in her, she sprinted to you and shoved you away as you were bending down in a show of checking on Marta.

“What was that?! You could have broken her ankle, cabrona!”

“Watch it.”

You had never seen her so angry before—her jaw locked as she continued to hurl insults at you. If she wasn’t your mortal enemy maybe you could have found it attractive. So you pushed back, and soon both your teammates and hers crowded around you, trying to separate you. Kelley put her arm around your neck and walked away, telling you to “keep your cool, this is only a friendly”.

Never, you thought. Never while I’m playing against her.

You apologized to Marta eventually, and she was cool with it. “Heat of the moment”, she said, and you were grateful. You never meant to hurt anyone. Sometimes you just couldn’t control your adrenaline spike.

As expected, Ona didn’t even look at you after the match. So you went home with Marta.

The next morning at breakfast, Ona heard laughing from the girls surrounding Marta.

“How was your American late-night snack, Marta?” Leila laughed.

The girl only shook her head with a grin. “It was delicious, alright.”

Ona didn’t know what that twisted feeling in her gut was when she heard what Marta said, as she walked back to her hotel room after breakfast. She just knew that as long as she was alive, you were the most despicable person she knew.

ESPN: Y/L/N-Batlle Feud Continues, Bonmatí Controls Midfield in Spain-USWNT Clash “LOS ANGELES -- Thursday night saw a friendly match between Spain’s women's national team and the USWNT at the Snapdragon Stadium that ended in a 2-2 draw. Several debutants started for both teams, including Man City powerhouse Y/N Y/L/N. After a stunning cross into the box from the left for Mallory Pugh to tap in, a dangerous slide tackle on Marta Cardona ensured Y/L/N to be the heart of a confrontation between several players, including Ona Batlle. It seems their club rivalry persists as they were seen giving each other a very clear piece of their minds, and several clashes succeeded the Cardona tackle. It would have been a good performance for both if not for the slip of attitude. One thing is clear, though; the mentality is there, and it sure is entertaining to watch. […]”

The end of the season was fast approaching, and while you had become a thorn in her side, it came to a point in which she would not think about you until a week before a clash. This one in particular was crucial in the race for a Champions League spot that both Manchester clubs were vying for. She knew what it meant for the club to secure a UCL spot for the first time, and you were not about to ruin it for her.

Tooney and Millie invited her out for dinner the night before the derby, but she turned them down, opting for a quiet night in instead. After a few hours, however, she suddenly felt antsy, the anticipation before the game nipping at her. It was only 7pm when she checked and she decided to go for a run. She followed the familiar path she always takes to the nearby park, and she was glad she did because the sun was going down, leaving a glorious trail of orange in the sky. She loved these peaceful moments, away from adrenaline, away from the constant pressure, away from constantly having to push herself or she’d be called ‘lazy’.

A constant huffing sound appeared next to her, and when Ona looked down she saw an adorable corgi looking up at her while wagging its tail.

“Hello,” she bent down and pet the dog. Loving the attention, the little corgi jumped up in an attempt to lick her face, to which she let out a laugh.

“Bratwurst! Come back here!” She heard a voice call in the distance, which she assumed must have been the owner. “Sorry, he loves people.”

Ona looked up, and her face dropped. You did the same, standing frozen in front of her. Bratwurst was jumping up and down before you, probably excited that he received pets from someone else today.

She had never seen you in plain clothes before. You clearly knew how to dress yourself, because she might have admitted that you looked good if she didn’t hate you so much. But it was difficult to see you as anything else other than Y/N Y/L/N, Manchester City winger, and potentially Golden Boot winner this season by the looks of it.

And yet, she sat down on a nearby bench with you anyway, watching Bratwurst stick his butt in the air, attempting to catch a squirrel.

“I named him Bratwurst ‘cause he’s . . . long, you know?” You chuckled. ”Short form is Brat too, that’s kinda funny.”

In a sea of northern Englishmen, she never got to hear your American accent properly as she’d only heard you speak no more than two words to her, and most of the time they weren’t pleasant.

“How do you have time to own a dog?” She asked.

“He’s a foster. I just got him a couple of weeks ago.” You looked down at your fingers. “It’s nice to have him to come home to.”

The conversation died down, and suddenly Ona felt like this was a mistake. Maybe she should just leave, and continue her run. But she saw a different side to you—a gentler, quieter side unlike the boastful player she knew you as—and she wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not.

“Are you planning on adopting him permanently?”

“Maybe. I just want to make sure that I’m settled before making him move.”

You leaned back, placed your arm on the bench, and closed your eyes.

“You don’t want to stay in Manchester?”

“I don’t know yet. Why, would you be happy if I did?” You smirked, and she saw a glimpse of that player again.

Yes. “Your presence doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bring me any joy either.”

“Just face it, Batlle.” You turned your body to her. “I get under your skin, don’t I?”

Ona blinked, her jaw clenching. “You don’t intimidate me, Y/L/N. You might be used to people bowing at your feet, but I won’t let you walk all over me. We will win tomorrow, and you might think to show some respect for others in the game.”

“Sorry, Batlle, can’t let you win. We’re playing Champions League next season.” You really enjoyed taunting her.

Ona huffed and stood up. As she walked away, she heard you call out to her. “See you on the pitch tomorrow, la matadora!”

There was nothing you could ever do to make yourself less hateful in her eyes.

It was matchday, kick-off time. Ona saw you on the other side of the midfield line. “Remember what you came here to do, and finish the job,” Marc had told them in the dressing room. He was right. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let you ruin that for her.

They were to play with a high line today, which required Ona to stay near the midfield line and run back, should a forward slip through. About halfway through the first half, she had a startling realization; you were dropping back too, playing a number-10 role. It meant that she couldn’t do what she did last time you met, because there would be a gaping hole where she covers.

United was leading 1-0 by halftime, and while they had the advantage, the fight was far from over.

“Okay, ladies. Have a drink and take a seat,” Marc stood at the front of the dressing room. “We’re doing good, we’re holding them off. Keep up the pressure.”

Ona sat back to catch her breath. You were much more versatile than she thought, and maybe that was her mistake for underestimating you. It seemed too easy that you were giving her exactly what she wanted, playing high at the flank like she always does. There was more to it, but she needed to adapt.

Ona held your gaze for a moment across the field. You weren’t giving up. It seemed you were confident enough in whatever wicked plan you still had up your sleeve, that you sent her a smirk back.

It was the 70th minute of the game and they were so close to achieving it. Katie was looking for a pass, so Ona made herself available.

There was empty space near the side of the box, and she wanted to utilize it but it meant having to get past a couple of defenders.

“Vilde! 1, 2!” She called, passed the ball to her teammate, and started running. Her momentum was halted when Vilde’s ball was cut off and instantly launched forward.

The counterattack came so quickly, it must have been what you practiced. 1-1.

Suddenly, the tides have shifted. The momentum was with City. Time was running out, and the sudden goal disoriented her team. It took about five minutes for everyone to get their head back into the game, but Ona could tell City were used to having possession by then.

And then, in the 88th minute, you were given the ball from the left. Everyone except Alessia had dropped back to defend a series of dangerous balls up until now. You didn’t have anyone to pass to without getting intercepted, and you were outside of the box. So you took the shot. She watched helplessly as the ball flew past Mary into the top right corner.

1-2.

Ona’s body ran cold as she watched you celebrate with your teammates.

When the final whistle came shortly after, she collapsed on her knees.

Some of her teammates were there to console her, but she let their comfort pass through her. She needed to break something.

She needed to get away from everyone and found a spot near the bathrooms where she could catch her breath. Her boots were dangling from her hand by the laces. She slumped against a wall and began to cry, the boots clattering next to her on the floor.

It wasn’t that she was sad to have lost—she blamed herself for letting you get to her head. The interaction of the day before got her thinking what ifs. What if we didn’t meet under these circumstances? What if I could have just gotten to know you without wanting to rip your head off every time I see you?

You heard quiet sobs down the hallway and knew it was her. You had quickly gone into the tunnel when you didn’t see her anywhere on the pitch, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see her cry.

“Batlle?” You called.

She didn’t seem to notice you, sitting against the wall and wiping her face with her shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay.” That was a stupid thing to say considering you just beat her out of a Champions League spot, of course it’s not okay.

“I’m really not in the mood,” she said, looking away.

“You did good out there,” you said, watching her anxiously.

“Don’t act like you care,” she sniffled. “You got what you wanted.”

“I’m not as heartless as you think, Ona.” You quipped back. “I’m not sorry that we won, but I am sorry that you’re hurt.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” She sobbed and glared at you. It sent a chill down your bones. “I wish we had never met.”

How do you tell her that you never meant for things to go this way? That every word you had ever said to her didn’t stem from malice but from fear? You had wished to push her away so that you don’t collide with her head-on. How do you tell her that no matter how hard you tried, you still gravitated toward her?

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, like a fool.

She was hurting because of you.

You snuck a glance at the form of the girl in front of you, like you would be penalized if you were caught looking at her. You took a step back to go, but she held onto your arm and pulled your body against her.

You had been fantasizing about having your mouth against her for months, usually in absurd circumstances, like you two making out in a bed of roses or you giving her a kiss after she, a masked superhero, saved you from danger. Never like this, muscles aching, sweat coating your foreheads, wearing your respective uniforms—being so you doing this.

You wanted to enjoy it. Her lips were soft and salty, and she might have secured you by the waist against her. Your knees trembled as you sighed into her lips, pushing her against the wall gently. Your hesitancy soon turned into hunger, as you pressed your body into hers, desperate to feel her.

Murmurs in the distance snapped you out of it. “Where’s Ona?” You made out one of the voices saying.

You looked back at her, your faces just inches away. You never noticed, but she had so many beautiful freckles adorning her face.

“Ona—“ You said, but she quickly picked up her boots and left towards the voices.

Chest heaving and head spinning, you slumped against the wall with a small grin, bringing your fingers up to touch your lips where she had been.

“Where have you been?” Keira asked in the dressing room, but you just shook your head.

“Just to the bathroom.”

Sky Sports: Man City’s Talisman Y/N Y/L/N Nets Stunning Late Goal Against Man United To Secure UWCL Spot […]

a/n: this gif is so y/n and ona coded