#the only reason i regret not having children

[marvelstoriesepic]

Latte (He)art

Pairing: Barista!Bucky x Coworker!College!Reader

Summary: Your sweet coworker at the café you work at part time is the only thing able to brighten your day. So it’s only practical that he always ends up in the same shift as you.

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Reader having College stress; mentions of a single mother (not reader); some coffee is spilled; Bucky is a sweetheart; Bucky is worried

Author’s Note: This little piece is written for @elixirfromthestars writing challenge. I actually planned to write this a month earlier but life got in between lol. Here it is now. I dearly hope you enjoy what I made of your lovely prompt.

🤎Coffee Cup🤎 “So we’re swapping our cups, and after a while, we’re swapping a glance. And I can think nothing better than starting the year with a drop of romance.” -Anthony Lazaro

Masterlist

The windows of the coffee shop receive more of your attention than the assortment of pastries you’re supposed to prepare to showcase behind the counter.

It’s fifteen minutes before Bucky’s shift starts and your belly flutters at the thought of seeing him again.

The early morning sun filters through the windows, offering a soft glow that casts warm beams of light to sweep across the floor and catch the glistening frosting on the cinnamon rolls. Their sweet, spiced aroma laced with hints of vanilla and brown sugar wafts through the air.

However, your gaze is more drawn to the street outside, scanning the road for a short mop of chestnut hair.

You like to snag shifts before the classes of your day start, relishing in the early morning hours and being satisfied with getting some work done before studying. But in the two and a half months since you started working at ‘Barnes Brown Beans’, you had come to recognize Bucky seems to prefer working in the morning as well. So, he actually may be the main reason.

Also, you’re usually, coincidentally - or so you tell yourself - paired with him anyway.

You’re grateful for this job. The shop’s close proximity to your university makes it an easy commute and the wages are fair. That’s a blessing in itself. But more than that, it was George and Winifred Barnes, the owners, who initially made it easy for you to love this job.

Winifred had greeted you with sweet enthusiasm at your job interview for a part-time job, making you instantly feel more at ease. After asking a few routine questions and warmly assuring you that the position was yours, she shifted the conversation to your studies with genuine interest and asked if you were good with balancing work and university life - a mother's worries.

It didn’t take long for her to start gushing about her children. She explained to you how her son, Bucky, had been helping out at the coffee shop ever since high school. Instead of pursuing college, like many of his peers and his best friend Steve, he chose to stay in New York to help manage the family business. “I’m sure you two will get along well” she had said with a kind of knowing grin you couldn’t make sense of.

She even shared with you that his little sister, Rebecca, always had a burning passion for studying architecture abroad. Unfortunately, the Barnes simply couldn’t afford a college education for both children, so Bucky decided to step up, taking on more responsibility at the shop so his parents wouldn’t be overwhelmed and relieving them of some stressful work, allowing his sister to follow her dreams.

She spoke with so much love and gratitude she held for her son, it almost made you tear up. She mentioned that Bucky never once showed resentment or regret for the path he chose.

Instead, he took pride in his role, and you could see it too. During your brief time working with him, you noticed how he carried himself with a quiet determination. There is genuine joy in the way he treats customers, always kind and attentive, and he always puts so much care into every small detail of his work.

He also loves to tell you about the exams his sister passed, and the friends she made; pride in her success evident when he speaks about her.

You admire him. He’s selfless, hardworking, and full of heart.

So it’s just logical that his parents gave him so much responsibility early on and made him part of the management.

You don’t mind that one second though, because he takes his authority incredibly seriously and usually shows up for his shifts earlier than he needs to.

It’s why your gaze is drawn to the panes of glass at the front once again.

You got in at 7 today, getting enthusiastically greeted by George - as he told you to call him on your first day - and tasked with the usual morning routine. So, as he disappeared into the small office room at the back of the shop, you had started prepping the food equipment and putting it on display.

The shop wouldn’t open until 8, so you still had some time to breathe before the morning rush would start, but you always feel some kind of gratitude at the way George lets you handle yourself at the front while waiting for Bucky to arrive at 7:30 to help out.

Admittedly, you didn’t get that much done yet, caused by the thought of seeing Bucky walk in through the door at any minute.

You saw him just 4 days ago at your last shift, but the giddy anticipation is all the same and you only have three and a half hours with him today before you have to leave for your classes.

The buttery, sweet, and slightly nutty smell of the freshly baked croissants you’re currently rearranging wafts from the trays and reaches your nostrils, but gets ignored the second you hear keys jiggling outside, and your attention snaps to the door.

“Morning doll!”

Bucky’s smooth voice comes through the door with him, cheerful as always as he greets you with a charming smile, and your chest flutters. A rush of cool air hits your exposed skin from outside, but his grin is warming you back up quickly.

You fumble with the croissant in your hand, but recover in time and throw him a smile of your own, hoping you’re able to mask the excitement you tried to hold in all morning.

“Morning, Bucky,” you greet him back sweetly, turning your attention back to the pastries, pretending to focus on your task at hand.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Bucky pulls off his coat and then makes his way over to you, hovering over your shoulder, while putting on his apron. You try to hide the way your hands get a little clammy in the see-through gloves you’re wearing while touching the food.

You tend to the fruit danishes, their glossy, golden crust filled with rich cream cheese and topped with plump raspberries, blueberries, and apricots.

Carefully placing each in its designated spot, you only manage to breathe a little easier when you feel Bucky move over to the coffee machines, their steady hum filling the quiet space as Bucky busies himself.

“Smells amazing, doll,” he calls over his shoulder and you can hear the grin in his voice.

You let out a soft laugh, glancing at him briefly before putting your head back around. “Didn’t make them, Bucky,” you explain, tone playful but modest.

Brewing coffee and clinking mugs are the only sounds you hear before Bucky’s hum reaches your ears. “Maybe you should,” he states, teasing laced with a hint of sincerity. “Bet they’d be gone in seconds.”

You’re grateful that Bucky isn’t in your line of sight because you feel heat creeping up your neck, coloring your cheeks. Your laugh is a little breathless, a little more insecure than you intended.

A few weeks ago you had casually mentioned your love for baking when Bucky had asked about your hobbies, and ever since he loved to bring it up every once in a while.

“I don’t know about that.” You try for nonchalance, but the blush doesn’t leave your face.

“Gotta give yourself more credit, doll,” he replies easily, his words wrapped in that effortless charm of his. You hear some more clinking of cups as he makes one for himself, just like every day. “Want coffee?”

He asks every time. You decline, like every time. Though he never fails to ask.

And it never fails to make your morning feel just a little bit brighter.

****

Watching Bucky create his latte art has become one of the highlights of your day. There is something mesmerizing in the way he moves, pouring the steamed milk with such precision and focus as if each cup would get graded by an artist.

You’ve noticed how much care he puts into it, the way he pauses before finishing, always needing it to be perfect.

You can tell when Bucky isn’t quite satisfied, like right now, as he holds up the cup that looks flawless to you. But there is a twitch of his mouth, a slight hesitation in his hand as if he’s debating whether to start over or risk making it worse with one more pour.

It’s adorable, really. To you, they all look perfect, but he holds himself to a standard that’s somehow both admirable and endearing.

Today, Bucky was the one already there when you arrived at 8 am, along with the first customers of the day.

The scent of fresh coffee had filled the air as you stepped inside, a soft murmur of conversation around you setting the tone for the morning rush.

He was stationed behind the counter, together with one of your coworkers, Peter. It didn’t escape your notice that Bucky caught your eye immediately, flashing you that warm, easy smile even before acknowledging Mr. Nakajima, a frequent visitor.

It was a small gesture but it excited you nonetheless.

Mr. Nakajima, or Yori as you’d heard Bucky call him, now sits in his usual corner, peacefully sipping his tea; his quiet presence a constant in the shop.

The older man always seems content to watch the people go in and out of the shop, observing the ebb and flow of the crowd, wrinkled hands wrapped around his cup as if savoring the warmth.

Bucky often took time to sit with him when things were slow, sharing long and comfortable conversations that seemed to be meaningful. There is something about the way Bucky treats Yori that tugs at your heart.

It seems, that right now Bucky is comfortable with leaving Peter and you to attend to the ebbing crowd as he makes his way to Yori's table and slowly lowers himself in front of him.

You deliberately turn away although there isn’t much to do for you right now since the morning rush is over and Peter attends to the only customer in the shop right now. So, you mindlessly wipe down the counter, not because you’re not interested, but if you spend any more attention on the guy you might get overwhelmed by the awe he arises in you.

The way Bucky smiles when he talks to the old man, the way his face lights up with that blinding, heart-stopping grin - it has a dizzying effect on you. And the laugh he lets slip every so often, low and full of warmth, makes it hard to concentrate on any coffee orders.

Bucky stays at Yori's table for a while. Every now and then you make out his face turning in your direction, lingering a little but you stay focused on your work.

“Y/n?”

The sound of Peters's voice makes your head snap over to him, blinking in expectation.

“Sorry, uh, you seemed a little distracted for a sec,” Peter says with a shy laugh, scratching the back of his neck, eyes flickering not so subtly over to Bucky.

Alright, maybe you have looked a few times. Whatever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, doing your best to ignore the knowing grin spreading across Peter's face. Thankfully, a girl around your age approaches the counter, saving you from the growing awkwardness. You flash her a smile and focus on her order.

More customers start to stream in, the café again beginning to buzz with activity. Bucky, noticing the crowd building up, excuses himself from Yori’s table with a friendly pat on the old man’s shoulder. He steps back behind the counter, his easygoing demeanor never faltering as he joins in beside you. You share a quick smile.

Working with Bucky always makes it fun in some sense, time slipping by too quickly. Before you know it, it’s time for you to head out for your first class of the day.

You step away from the counter, untie your apron, and grab your things, already feeling reluctant to leave Bucky’s side.

“Already time to go?” Bucky asks, turned in your direction, his voice carrying that familiar deep drawl. There’s a slight disappointment laced in his tone, that doesn’t escape you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “first class is-“

“History,” he finishes for you, without missing a beat.“I remember.”

You hadn’t expected him to recall such a small detail about your schedule, surprise registering on your face. But you quickly push out a smile, nodding at him, your heart doing a little somersault.

“Hold on,” he insists quietly, already moving to snap up a to-go bag and carefully placing a croissant inside. With a casual grin, he holds it out for you to take. “On the house.”

This isn’t the first time Bucky has given you something to go, insisting you take it as a gift. But it never gets easier to accept his small acts of kindness. You hesitate, not making a move to take the bag and Bucky’s smirk only deepens, playing the same game you’ve had before.

“Take it, doll,” he drawls, dangling the bag in front of your face with a playful glint in his eye. “Can’t let you go to class hungry, now can I?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes with a smile tugging at your lips, and snatch the bag from his hand with mock annoyance. “Fine, but this is the last time,” you warn, rather weakly it seems, considering the way Bucky leans against the counter with his arms crossed, smirking at you in an amused manner.

“You know it’s not. Can’t fault me for taking care of you, doll. You haven’t eaten anything all morning.”

His words are casual, but the way he says it, the unspoken concern that lingers, makes giddy warmth rise in your stomach, spreading to your face and heating your skin.

You hope it’s not that obvious, so you just sigh again, dramatically, and exaggerate an eye roll as Bucky lets another cup get filled with coffee, eyes remaining on you, a chuckle fleeing his lips.

You make your way to the door of the shop, knowing you’d just pay him back by slipping some money into the tip jar when you’re in earlier than him.

“And no leaving dollars in the tip jar, sweetheart,” Bucky calls out behind you, the smug amusement clear in his voice. “Ma told me about that.”

Busted.

You turn you head with a faux helpless look, which only sends him into a fit of laughter, the sound rich and full, echoing through the shop, and your heart bursts, ignoring the people standing in the line wearing looks between confusion and annoyance. Laughing quietly yourself, you let the warmth of the moment fill you up, then quickly slip out the door before the flustered grin on your face can betray you any further.

With the door closed, the sounds of the café seal off behind you and you find yourself lingering just a second longer than the last time.

****

“Girl, I’m telling you, that’s nothing! I accidentally made a girl’s latte with cow's milk although she’d ordered oat. Chased her down the street like a lunatic, I mean she could have had an allergy and whatnot. Turns out it was just a preference and she didn’t mind. Talk about embarrassing.”

You chuckle along to Gina’s story, dusting the cappuccino in front of you with a sprinkle of cinnamon, scents mingling together.

Regina - or Gina as she prefers - is always someone you enjoy working with together. She’s incredibly open-minded and carries that vibrant energy you need to get through the day. She’s got a few years on you but never fails to make you laugh.

While brewing coffee and selling them, she loves to tell you about her little boy, Nikita. You’ve seen pictures of him on her phone and he’s adorable with puffy cheeks, dark curls, and dark green eyes. He must have those from his father.

You know she is a single mother and you admire the way she takes it with pride, finding peace in her situation and insisting that she and Nikita are better off without his father.

You’ve also come to find out that 'Barnes Brown Beans' wasn’t the only job she had but that George and Winifred are so much fairer than her other boss, being supportive and trying to give her shifts that accommodate her schedule so she could pick up Nikita from kindergarden early enough to still have time with him every day.

Another thing that makes this job so valuable.

Earlier was a brief lull in the crowd, allowing you and her to chat. The conversation had drifted into the realm of embarrassing work stories. You shared one of your own, recalling how, in your first week, you had prepared a to-go coffee. You felt that nervousness that comes with starting a new job and as you tried to slide the cup over the counter to the customer, your aim had been far too enthusiastic. The cup sailed past the edge, spinning gracefully through the air before landing in the trash bin.

You hoped that perhaps nobody really saw what happened besides the slightly perturbed man in front of you. But since you shared this shift with Bucky and he always seems to have an eye on you, of course, he was a witness. You remember the way his laugh had erupted, uncontainable, filling the air behind the counter. He had leaned against it for support while you stood there, cheeks burning.

He didn’t make you feel bad though, helping you remake the coffee and almost sheepishly adding that the same thing happened to him once. Only, in his case, it was a porcelain cup. And it didn’t land in the bin. The image of it crashing to the floor, shattering into tiny pieces as coffee splattered everywhere, was enough to make you feel a little less embarrassed.

“Something funny?”

The familiar voice catches you off guard and you look up from the register. Sure enough, Bucky is strolling up to the counter, hands casually tucked into his jacket pockets and that handsome grin on his face that always causes your stomach to do flips.

“Bucky?” you ask, a soft, confused laugh escaping you. You feel your heart jump in excitement and try to tone it down. He wasn’t supposed to come in for a few more hours, and you had already resigned yourself to the disappointment of missing him today. You’d seen the shift schedule last week and the realization was like a cloud casting a shadow over your mood.

So, seeing him standing in front of you only makes a smile stretch wide without even thinking.

“I think you’re a little early,” you assess, voice light as you ring up the girl standing at the counter. Handing her the cappuccino, you glance back at him, the small transaction barely registering as your attention stays fixed on Bucky.

His grin only widens as he shrugs with a kind of faux nonchalance, letting his gaze sweep across the room. His smile stays in place, even as he steps aside for a middle-aged man approaching you.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he teases with that signature edge of playfulness that always gets to you.

As you start to prepare the man’s coffee, you can feel Bucky’s gaze on you, watching your every move. It’s a weight you’ve grown fond of - his silent observation that makes you more aware of yourself, in a good way.

You flash him a quick smile before refocusing.

“Also had to know how that exam went,” he adds casually, leaning in just a little, but you’re aware of that curiosity his voice always carries when he asks you about college. Or anything about your life, really.

You huff out a small laugh, ringing up the man’s order and sliding his coffee across the counter before turning your full attention back to Bucky. “Wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be,” you answer him, a hint of relief in your tone since you had been stressing about this exam for weeks. “I think I did okay.”

Bucky leans against the counter now, propping himself up in that relaxed way of his, eyes never leaving yours. You’re glad you get to talk to him, glad that Gina attends to the only current customer right now and you have a second with Bucky, but the unknown power his gaze holds over you threatens to overwhelm you.

“What’d I tell ya, doll? Of course, you did great. Smartest girl I know.”

You snort, but your heart races. He always seems so sure of your success, having this confidence in you, that you feel you lack sometimes and it makes warmth pool in your gut. “Well I guess I’ll have to thank you, then,” you reply, smile present and voice light but the gratitude is real.

His scent - a mix of something warm and clean, almost earthy, and his cologne - cuts through the usual aroma of coffee beans and pastries. It’s grounding and you have to remind yourself to focus as you move toward the coffee machines.

“Do you want coffee?” you throw over your shoulder, fingers already hovering over the buttons.

Bucky straightens up in your peripherals and you make out the shake of his head with that soft smile on his face. “Don’t wanna keep you from work. I’ll make it myself, thanks doll!”

The door to the café swings open and three girls walk in together, laughter filling the room as they make their way over to you. Bucky’s movements snap your head back to him as he casually slips behind the counter, stepping up to the coffee machines and you head back to the register, keeping awareness of his presence as always.

Since Bucky’s shift doesn’t start yet, he stays lingering behind the counter and engages in conversation with Gina when he notices you getting busy again. From where you stand you can hear snippets of their conversation - Bucky asking about Nikita and when he gets to see him again.

You never realized they are that close but the thought of Bucky caring about that little boy instantly heats your skin. There’s a softness to imagining him in that role, and you can easily picture how good he must be with kids.

After all, you’ve seen it before - the way his face lights up when he catches sight of children toddling along beside their parents, the way he bends down to their height, engages them in little conversations that always leave them giggling or grinning from ear to ear. It’s endearing and really no wonder that every child he talks to seems to adore him.

But what really tugs at your heart, what causes a flutter deep in your chest, is the subtle way Bucky’s attention keeps drifting back to you.

Even in the middle of his chat with Gina, you can feel his gaze lingering on you. There is a quiet fondness in the way he watches you go about your work, always wearing that soft expression.

It’s not like he’s checking if you’re doing your job right - nothing about it feels critical or scrutinizing. Instead, it’s as if he’s simply enjoying observing you, absorbing the way you move through your tasks, as though he’s eager to learn all the little details that make up your routine.

And surprisingly, it doesn’t make you as nervous as you might have believed. If anything, there is something soothing about his attention, like a silent reassurance you never knew you needed.

Occasionally, throughout your shift, Bucky strikes up conversations with familiar customers - frequent flyers whose names he already knows by heart. You catch bits and pieces of their easy small talk, but even then, his eyes always find their way back to you.

And every time you meet them, your heart swells with hope that perhaps the reason he came in early for his shift might be you.

****

Your week has been nothing short of overwhelming and frustrating - packed with assignments, papers to write, and facts to memorize. To top it off, a fellow student had yelled at you for breaking his pen, and you still remember that disappointed glint in your professor's eyes after failing to give him satisfying answers in class.

It feels like you are constantly juggling everything at once, and somehow, the balance has tipped entirely.

Sleep has become a rare luxury, replaced by caffeine-fueled study sessions that stretch into the early hours of the morning.

As you walk to the café for your afternoon shift, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, the exhaustion settling in your bones.

You rarely work afternoon shifts, but this one fits perfectly behind your friday classes and you have been too swamped the rest of the week to pick up any shifts at all.

Your pace is slower than usual, feet dragging slightly on the pavement. There is no real need to hurry today. Normally, your steps would quicken as you approached the café, that familiar, sweet sign with its three big B’s always managing to lift your mood.

But today the excitement isn’t there. Not when you know Bucky has the day off. Without him there, the urgency to get to work just isn’t the same.

But, thinking about it, it might be for the best that Bucky is not around today. You can’t imagine you look all that appealing right now, with dark bags under your eyes - the kind that no amount of concealer could hide. Your skin has that worn-out, dull shimmer to it - the kind that no amount of caffeine could mask.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in a shop window as you pass and wince slightly. The fatigue shows in your features, and for a moment, you’re thankful that this day won’t include the possibility of Bucky catching sight of you in this state.

You’re partly relieved to have a shift where you can simply focus on getting through it without feeling self-conscious. There is no need to hide how utterly drained you feel because you really couldn’t care less how your appearance would affect your customers. You just need to make it through these few hours, go home, and hopefully, finally get some rest.

You pull open the door, gathering what little composure you can muster. The all-known blend of rich coffee, baked pastries, and warm, cozy air greets you as always, along with the chatter from the packed room. It’s busy, as expected for this time of day, but the environment surprisingly helps ground you as you weave your way through the crowd, slipping between patrons.

Your eyes catch Winifred at the back, her beaming smile a quick but comforting sight before she disappears behind the office door with a wave.

Side-stepping two men chatting near the line, you get a clearer view of the counter and freeze - feet refusing to continue.

Thanks to the work schedule you know who your coworkers are today. Peter was assigned, as well as Wanda, a nice, but slightly odd girl with a thick accent and laser-like focus on her task.

You had prepared for them both. But it isn’t Wanda standing next to Peter behind the counter.

It’s Bucky.

Your heart jumps into your throat and you’re not sure if it’s because of the surprise of seeing him or because of how unprepared you feel in this exact moment. You didn’t even check your hair in a car window before entering.

He’s here - on his supposed day off - laughing with a guy on the other side of the counter as he works the espresso machine, his movements smooth and practiced; no surprise there. His presence is so casual and effortless that you find yourself thinking your tired eyes might have looked at the wrong day on the schedule and perhaps you aren’t even supposed to work today. Though Winifred wasn’t at all surprised to see you.

Your head spins at the simple thought and yet a ripple of warmth shoots through you at the sight of him, making you momentarily forget just how drained you are.

While every fiber of your being wants to feel self-conscious about your tired eyes and the imperfections on your skin, craving to stay hidden between the line of people, the longer you watch him work, it gets overtaken by something else.

That same old lightness that seems to follow him wherever he goes and sticks to you when you’re near enough, soaking into your veins and filling them with energy. You can practically feel them fizzle.

You would have liked to linger in this moment just a little longer, but it’s cut short abruptly when he spots you. His polite smile brightens instantly, eyebrows moving up slightly as his eyes lighten up.

You flash him a smile in return, though you can feel it wobble at the edges, probably more sheepish than anything else. Maybe it even comes off as a grimace with the exhaustion weighing on you, but you quickly break eye contact and resume walking.

For a moment, you make out Bucky’s hand pausing mid-motion, hovering above the counter before he slides a to-go cup to the waiting guy on the other side.

Passing by, you can feel his gaze trailing after you, burning softly against your skin, a quiet but intense presence that follows you even when you’re not looking.

You busy yourself with dialing in for the shift, wrapping your apron around your waist, doing your best to shake off the fatigue and the flutter that Bucky’s unexpected presence elicits in you.

From behind you, you catch the sound of his voice, though it sounds a little distracted, asking the next customer to repeat their order.

You glance back, quickly greeting Peter as you pass, but your focus is drawn to the pastry case, where a small woman waits for service. You keep your hands moving, bagging up her choice of pastries - two croissants and four scones - but make out Bucky’s head turning in your direction a few times.

You steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye, noticing the slight furrow in his brow as he works. He’s a little slower now, less sure in his movements than when you first walked in. It’s subtle, but you can tell his focus is slipping. Something about his energy has shifted.

Minutes pass and the three of you stay busy with the steady stream of customers. You remain behind the pastry case, preparing the treats for the eager crowd. In between transactions, you notice Bucky taking a step in your direction, hesitating each time like he wants to step closer but keeps pulling himself back at the last second.

He returns to the register every time, tending to the next person in line, but there is an urgency in his movements now. His hands got quicker again, fingers tapping impatiently against the counter as he waits for the coffee to brew and his gaze falls back to you every so often but you avoid it.

Another few minutes tick by and you begin to settle into the rhythm of the shift when a sudden shout rings out from the front.

Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto the group of people stepping back from the counter hastily, startled by the splash of coffee that arcs through the air.

The cup that had caused the commotion clinks against the counter, slipping in Bucky’s hand and his other one shoots out to hold it steady before it can meet the ground alongside the coffee that was in it moments before.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Bucky exclaims, his voice thick with frustration as he shakes his head at himself, wiping the spilled brown liquor from his hands. He quickly puts away the cup and apologizes again to the man it was meant for and the crowd of people who got startled.

The customer, a guy who looks to be in his mid-twenties, holds up his hands in a placating gesture, clearly not bothered by the accident. His jacket sleeve is stained with coffee, but he brushes it off with a casual shrug. “No worries, man, really. Nothing happened, you’re good!”

Bucky doesn’t seem to relax. You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders are still tight as he remakes the drink with stiff, almost mechanical precision. You’ve never seen him so rattled but then again, he has been unfocused ever since he saw you.

Work continues steadily for the next half hour, with the rush of patrons finally starting to taper off. The café gradually empties, the throng thinning out until only a handful of people remain, some of them sitting in booths going on with their conversations.

You catch sight of Bucky leaning in closer to Peter, murmuring something you can’t quite make out. Peter nods, and without another word and a small pat on Peter’s shoulder, Bucky steps back from the counter.

This time, his hesitation is gone as he strides over to you.

He stops beside you, eyes on your profile. “Hey,” he speaks softly, voice low.

You finish helping a boy, thanking him for the tip before turning to Bucky with a small smile.

“Hey,” you reply, voice matching his softness but quieter. You turn your attention to the young girl in front of you, requesting a cookie. Reaching for a bag to tuck the treat inside, you continue the conversation, though your eyes stay focused downward.

“Didn’t expect to see you here today,” you comment, sensing his gaze on you.

“Yeah, uh, I took Wanda’s shift,” Bucky responds, his voice a little more tentative now. You notice him shuffling slightly beside you, standing up straighter.

He offers no further explanation as to why he picked up the shift, and you don’t feel the energy to ask about it. For some reason, the simple act of bagging a cookie while talking to him feels like a juggling act your tired brain isn’t quite up for.

So all you manage is a noncommittal hum in response.

The girl leaves with her cookie and Bucky stays beside you, solid and unyielding in his gaze. It presses on you like a weight as the moments pass.

Your stomach flutters uneasily when you realize there’s no line left to distract you, no excuse to stay busy.

You move automatically, reaching for the paper bags, rearranging them with a bit more force than necessary, trying to give yourself something to focus on, something other than Bucky’s eyes burning into you.

“Are you okay?” he asks finally, slowly and lowly, as if the question is something private meant only for you. It is. You feel the shift in his tone, the way he leans in slightly as if he needs a sincere answer to his sincere question.

It pulls your attention to him and you reluctantly lift your head, your heart twisting at the sight. Bucky gazes down at you with an expression far more serious than you’ve ever seen. His blue eyes, usually filled with a glimmering light when he looks at you, hold an amount of concern that seems to have an impact on his stiff muscles.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you declare gently, smiling at him in hopes it’ll reassure him, though even before the words have left your lips completely, you felt it wasn’t entirely convincing.

Bucky studies you a moment longer. His eyes trace your features, dark brows hanging low, but you don’t take your words back.

Then, after a pause he lets out a long drawn sigh, hanging his head in defeat. He obviously doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push it. The concern in his eyes remains but he lets it go, stepping back from you slowly.

He walks over to the coffee machines, deliberately trying to feign casualness. He grabs a cup and turns the familiar button after checking if Peter needs some help at the register, the whirring sound of brewing coffee filling the brief silence between you.

“You want some coffee?” he asks, like clockwork - just as he does every time you work together.

Without thinking, you open your mouth to decline, as usual. It’s almost muscle memory at this point, your automatic response. But then, mid-through, you pause. Another shot of caffeine can’t hurt. You can use the energy to get home safely without passing out after this shift.

The cup fills, steam rises, and Bucky turns to you when you take too long to answer.

You hesitate for a beat, then shift your gaze away, feeling a little awkward. “Yeah, I’ll take one,” you decide, stepping beside him to grab yourself a cup, eyes not moving to him.

But before you can reach for one, Bucky’s hand wraps gently around your wrist, halting you. The touch is light, but enough to make your pulse quicken. “Hold on,” he remarks, his voice filled with concern rather than confusion. “You never want coffee when I ask.” His intense eyes search your face again.

“If you always expect me to say no, then why do you keep asking?”

Bucky doesn’t respond immediately. He just keeps looking at you, quietly pleading for honesty. “That ain’t the point,” he softy counters but his voice carries insistence. “Something’s wrong.”

You sigh. God, you’re tired. You really need that coffee and you’d certainly feel terrible for getting annoyed at Bucky. He’s just trying to figure you out. He cares. That thought alone presses against the wall you’ve been trying to maintain all day.

Gently, you pull your wrist from his loose grip, and he lets his hand fall back to his side, though his gaze doesn’t waver.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Damn, that came out hollow. “I’m just a little stressed,” you add when he starts to shake his head, “and I could use a cup. It’s just coffee, Bucky.”

You see the muscles in his jaw tighten and his hand comes up to run through his hair.

“It’s not just coffee, darling,” he sighs. There’s a pause in which he assesses you again, then he continues. “Alright. Don’t take this the wrong way, doll. You know you’re a beautiful gal, but… you look like you’re about to drop dead.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. It looks like tiredness comes with an attitude, because your mind foregoes the part where he called you beautiful, only hearing the other side.

“Well.” You draw out the word. “If you don’t want me to drop dead, then let me have some coffee.” There is a bit of edge to your tone you hadn’t exactly intended, but you’re too tired to smooth it out. You also don’t wait for him to respond, quickly reaching for another cup and pressing the button before Bucky can grab your arm again.

Bucky stays quiet for a moment, watching you with those piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through your walls. He doesn’t look angry - just worried.

As the coffee pours you hear him take a breath. “Alright,” Bucky says quietly, almost under his breath. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he adds after a short pause. Firmness, sincerity, and perhaps an amount of regret are all wrapped in his tone.

He used your name. You haven’t heard him say your name since the first time working here. And never with that much conviction.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just… worried.” His voice softens even more, it sounds almost pleading and he takes a quick glance back at Peter, who was busy attending to the few patrons mingling about, before refocusing on you, his hand brushing over his hair. “I’ve seen you stressed before. Like when you kept going on about how worried you were for that exam. I watched you go through the stuff you had to learn in your head while remaining so incredibly focused and sweet during work. I admire that, Y/n. I must’ve told you a thousand times you’d ace it, but you wouldn’t believe me.” He chuckles lowly, sheepishly, and he licks his lips, before continuing. His gaze leaves you, mind seemingly far in his memories.

“Or your first day here. You were so nervous about making a mistake. You asked so many questions, were so interested in everything. I kept thinking about you all day. Every day, really.” He took another deep breath. It comes out a little unsteady and his eyes quickly flicker over to you, not quite meeting your own, but still searching your features.

“But this… this is different, and- I don’t know. I don’t like it. Hate it, honestly. Seeing you like this.”

His words hit you deep. The genuine concern and sincerity in his tone make your chest tighten, throat closing up and you feel yourself losing your breath as he takes a small step closer, eyes now fully on yours again. The nerves in his voice that had been there are gone now. Because he’s sure of what he says next. It’s clear in his tone.

“But, sweetheart, even through it all, you still manage to be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Drop dead gorgeous, honestly.”

You let out a surprised huff of laughter, partly because it’s easier than acknowledging and processing the meaning of his words. Heat creeps up your cheeks and all you feel like doing is bolt out of the door at the other end of the room but your feet are rooted to the spot. Perhaps, the floor would just give away and you’d fall deep down into the unknown.

That still would be kinder than standing in front of Bucky right now after his heavy confessions, feeling too vulnerable under his soft gaze.

You’re not able to meet his eyes, dropping your head. You know he is still looking at you. You don’t have to feel it to know it. That gentle expression, the reassuring smile - like he’s silently conveying that everything’s okay.

“Let me make you feel better, yeah?” Bucky’s voice is barely above a whisper, gentle, yet filled with intent. He gives you a moment, letting his earlier confessions sink in, before taking hold of the now full cup that is meant for you. Your eyes widen slightly when you see him grab the can of freshly steamed milk, an almost eager smile tugging at his lips.

“Are you pulling your latte art on me?” you ask with a light laugh, some of the tension in your chest loosening. There is a little bit of a teasing note in your voice now, your heartbeat beginning to slow.

“Sure am, doll!” Bucky grins proudly, lifting the cup higher. His brow furrows in concentration as he carefully pours the milk with a steady hand, his tongue briefly poking out as he narrows his eyes to get the design just right. You had seen him do this many times before but never for you.

The precision and dedication he’s giving to something as simple as your coffee makes your heart swell. You’re the one watching him now with a soft smile, utterly mesmerized by how serious he’s taking it.

You take a glance at the other cup - the one Bucky had made for himself and an idea hits you. Steam still rises from the liquid inside, the scent of fresh coffee meeting your nose.

You look around the counter, spotting the milk pot Peter had just set down and, without a second thought, you pick up Bucky’s cup, ready to return the favor. You lift the milk and begin to pour.

“What are you doing, doll?” Bucky’s gaze stays fixed on the cup in his hand, but his smile is beaming, curiosity lacing his words.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that,” you retort, your voice playful as you guide the milk with careful precision, weaving your hand in the practiced motions until you’re satisfied with the design.

Bucky’s chuckle is warm and soft and for a moment, it feels like the world shrinks down to just the two of you, the quiet intimacy cutting through the noise of the ebbing café.

Bucky finishes his work and sets the milk pot back down. There is a slight hesitation in his movements as he hands over the cup for you, a touch of nervousness creeping into his stance. You smile up at him and offer the cup in your hand to him. His hands are a little clammy as they touch yours. You swap coffees.

Your mouth falls open as you take a glance down into the cup. In the creamy white foam, a delicate rose is perfectly etched, its petals spiraling gracefully outward. Surrounding the rose are tiny, intricate hearts, floating around the bloom. The detail is so mesmerizing that all you can do is stare at it.

“This is incredible, Bucky,” you breathe out, voice filled with amazement. When you look up, he’s already watching you. He’s breathing deeply and his smile is in place. But there is also something in his eyes he doesn’t try to hold back - pure adoration, shining clearly like he just can’t hide it anymore.

He holds his own cup carefully, as if it’s something precious, something fragile, as if even the tiniest movement would mess up the heart in white swirling in his cup. Though, you feel like the simple heart pales in comparison to the masterpiece he’s created for you.

“It’s beautiful,” you say quietly, a hint of shyness in your tone. You feel a tiny amount of embarrassment but Bucky just keeps smiling, so warm and incredibly fond, that any hint of insecurity melts away.

“Learned it for you,” he admits it softly, his words slipping out like a secret he’s been holding onto for too long. Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening slightly before you look back down at the cup, tracing the design over and over again with your gaze.

“I love it, Bucky. I love these little hearts,” you address admiringly, almost dreamily.

Bucky is beaming above you, and although he shakes his head softly, his smile never leaves his face. He takes in a deep breath, seemingly needing to compose himself and looks down at his own cup, at the heart in it.

“Well,” he vocalizes, affection surrounded by a playful edge, “my heart’s bigger.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes. It’s the only thing I know how to do.”

He chuckles, that vibrating sound, that always makes your chest feel lighter. “I can teach you,” he offers, his bright blues looking deeply into your eyes, so full of affection that it makes your breath catch for a second.

And in that second - because that’s all it takes - everything shifts. For the better. Always for the better, because it’s hard to feel anything negative when Bucky smiles at you the way he does.

“you deserve

the kind of love

like hot coffee between your lips

that loves you gently

but makes you bold

and gives you life between the sips”

- a.b.

[cbk1000]

Me: I love history!! It's so fascinating.

Universe: Oh, cool cool; let me send some really wild shit your way, then, you will LOVE this.

Me: No...I meant like...to read about...not to live through.

[ikolit]

that strange new worlds had the episode premise of having Spock temporarily turned fully human and then managed to miss in every aspect of his characterization and how that would affect his relationship with the rest of the crew is truly amazing

[junonreactor]

hm

[fruiteggsaladit]

we don't talk often enough about the fact that although for most of yyh canon Keiko bears the weight of "the annoyingly clingy one" bc Togashi didn't feel confident enough to put his entire pussy into the effort of realising the potential of her character and expansion of her themes into the narrative, Togashi also, in his last bits of energy in the effort to complete one final arc for yyh, decided to recontextualise that with the reveal that Yusuke used to tell Keiko he'd make up for all the bad shit he did by marrying her, *he's* the annoyingly clingy one.

[king127]

No one can make me feel bad about my past. I was honest so I wouldn’t be judged. But instead it’s always used against me. By my own husband at that. We both have kids from different people. But I’m the bad person for it. Crazy because you wanted to be the next one & I gave in to make you happy even though it wasn’t what I wanted. & just to just be talked about poorly & let go after being told it was never an option. Only thing that I had to forgive myself for was giving in & trusting someone I chose & loved so much. Who in turn broke my heart & makes me to be the bad person when we’ve both made mistakes. It was just a lesson & I’m at peace with that now. I’m not perfect & took accountability for my mistakes. I forgave & stayed when asked. I even respected the decision he made to brake our family he tried so hard to make with me. It was hard & it hurt but you can’t force someone to stay or love you. I prayed for strength & guidance. God showed me why I needed to let go. I tried to make it work as I promised I would, but I wasn’t enough or ever even the one. I don’t talk poorly about him to others. I keep the bad to myself or write on this app where no one knows us. I asked for respect to let me go completely so I can move on without trying as he asked. & it turned into a battle. I was threatened of my freedom. That was the last straw. It was such a help to let it go. Coparenting for our kids is all I want to do. No more trying. He got what he wanted. The trust is gone completely. I just want to do right for the kids & communicate for them when needed respectfully. Praying for the respect as his mother’s children & soon to be ex wife as he has chosen. I don’t regret giving my all. It’s all good. At least I know I tried. Life has many lessons we must all learn to help make us better ourselves. God wrote our story before we even knew what would happen. So I will continue to trust Gods guidance in my life & not question anything he has in store. I’ll just continue to do better for me & the kids & keep God first as we should. So thankful for growth & strength. So grateful to have loved & trusted in someone for once, even if I was broken hearted in the process. Time to focus on continuous growth, keeping god first, & being better for my kids. Only God can judge me.

Life’s a bitch & then we die. Can’t let pain linger on. We only have one life to live. I Choose Happiness!

[chloe-petrichors]

cradling constellations // jace x reader

when rhaenyra brings her family to court to celebrate the king's fiftieth name day, there was but one thing on your mind: getting to see jace, the boy you'd loved in secret, once more.

whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. —emily brontë

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!aunt!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon-typical incest, canon-au (it's viserys' birthday party baby), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s) idiots in love, instant attraction/love at first (second) sight, childhood sweethearts (kinda?), soulmate vibes, love confessions, switching povs, smut (mdni !) including masturbation (m), p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), implied loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mild marriage kink if that’s even a thing, body worship, dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, mild overstimulation, soft dom vibes, jace being a tits man. word count; 15k+ (oops) notes; me, obsessed with jace? more likely than u think. this whole fic spawned from the fact that i noticed jace's freckles on a gif and lost my gd mind. this was meant to be a quick smut fic. and then i took 11k+ words to get to the smut part. i'm sorry (i'm not). this is totally self-indulgent, soulmates, love at first sight kinda fluff-to-smut and i regret nothing. way too much time of writing this was me trawling through the asoiaf wiki pages to find details that are relevant for one whole sentence. why am i this way. valyrian is pulled straight from a translator i found online, pls let me know if you notice any errors! requests; are open !

the first time you laid eyes on jacaerys velaryon, you knew he was something special.

you had just been children, then, uncertain of each other due to the discontent between your families. but he had been kind to you, dark eyes warm, and it had been an easy thing to be kind in return. your brothers make it difficult, of course, as they seem to do with everything they get involved in. aegon had been the worst at first, spouting off the same vitriol your mother had always whispered into your ears, but aemond had not been far behind him.

after the events of laena’s funeral and the loss of aemond’s eye, the hostilities only grow and grow. helaena keeps herself apart from most of it by virtue of her typically distant manner, but your brothers insist on drawing you into the same arguments again and again. it's tedious, laborious, but they are your family.

jace and luke are too, of course, not that anyone else seems to want to admit it. for all that they are velaryon’s by name (and strong in heart, mayhaps, yes), they are your nephews. your brothers only seem interested in remembering this when it serves them, however — which is usually when they’re lording it over the dark-haired boys.

in truth, the velaryon’s are hardly innocent either. it seems like the two sets of boys bring out the absolute worse in each other without fail, and it’s usually left to you to try and be the voice of reason.

away from your brothers’ taunts, jace is like a different boy entirely. endlessly curious and ceaselessly kind, the brunette seems to always have time to talk and jape with you. your friendship grows surprisingly easy as children, and with early adulthood comes the bloom of a different kind of affection, too. you never say anything, knowing all too well that if your brothers catch even a whisper of your feelings that there will be no end of hells to pay.

it matters little, regardless. your mother will never tolerate a betrothal between the two of you and you know better than to even attempt to broach such a topic. it had been sheer miracle that she hadn’t tried marrying you off to aemond after securing aegon and helaena’s marriage, and you aren’t willing to tempt fate by giving her ideas now. so what if you spend countless nights dreaming of freckled skin and dark hair? it matters not in the scheme of things.

rhaenyra flees kings landing after daemon’s return to westeros, leaving you feeling strangely bereft without your nephews’ company. years go by with no contact from your sister’s family, and so you let your old daydreams fall to the wayside. there’s no use dwelling on what you can’t have, and no point bringing it up since even now just a mention of luke or jace is enough to inflame aemond’s temper.

and then, of course, the news comes that rhaenyra is returning to court for the king’s fiftieth name day. there are great feasts and celebrations planned in honour of your father, which you privately think silly considering it’s unlikely he would be well enough to attend half the festivities. still, there’s no denying your excitement at the idea of seeing jace again. he would be a man grown, now, his twentieth name day having passed only a few moons ago.

for once the majority of your family will be under one roof, and you are certain it will end in disaster — but you intend to enjoy it while you can.

going flying the morning of the velaryons arrival is perhaps not your smartest idea. 

your nerves wake you well before dawn. you feel as if you’re going to crawl out of your skin if you don’t do something, and you know your chances for flying will be limited with the celebrations expected to start tomorrow. so you decided to take the chance while you can, dressing quickly in your riding gear before creeping to the dragon pit well before any of your family wake.

silverwing likes it when you take her for unexpected flights, so she makes no complaint when you have the dragon keepers release her. you go through the motions of saddling her yourself, as you always do, taking the chance to reinforce the bond with your dragon.

silverwing hadn’t been your hatched dragon. the egg that you had slept beside as a babe had never hatched, just as aemond’s and helaena’s hadn’t. it had infuriated aemond when you were children, that jace and luke’s dragons hatched while he was left without. it had made him an easy target for the other boys; aegon had often led the others in riling him about his lack of dragon until he had claimed vhagar. you can admit now that the others had oft been cruel to him in their japing, and it had ended poorly for everyone involved.

your claiming of silverwing had been incredibly boring in comparison. she had found you, in truth, a year after aemond claimed vhagar. she’d been your great-grandmother the good queen alysanne’s dragon before your own, and had not taken a rider since the queen’s death. she’d flown from the dragonmont to find you, and you’ve been nigh on inseparable since. your mother despairs over it, hating how her often her ‘perfect daughter’ has shown up to court late with windswept hair and flushed cheeks.

but, to you, flying is freedom.

there’s nothing else like it in the world; the sensation of silverwing beneath you, the seven kingdoms at your fingertips, and only the sky above. your mother has never really let go of her fear of the dragons, and you can understand it in a way; she is no targaryen, and she’ll never know what it is to bond with a dragon, to have that presence so alien and yet so familiar nudging against the corners of your mind. any attempts to explain it to her are met with bemusement and wariness, and you’d long ago learned to stop bringing it up.

silverwing’s joy to fly merges into your own as you climb atop her, running a soothing hand over the gleaming silver spikes at her neck as you adjust the straps. her impatience thrums loudly through the bond as you settle yourself into the saddle, and you feel her heart beat through you like a second pulse as your own anticipation rises.

“ivestragī īlva sōvegon, ñuha raqiros! [let us fly, my friend!]”

she needs no further nudging than that, and with a delighted roar she launches into the air. your laughter is stolen by the wind as she beats her wings, propelling you higher and higher before sweeping over the towering peaks of the red keep. with a shouted instruction she banks sharply to the left, flying out over blackwater bay as the sun finally crests the horizon. the dark sea lights up with reds and golds beneath you, the sky gloriously blue above, and silverwing’s distinctive scales shine in the breaking dawn.

a glorious morning, you think, and as the two of you climb higher to the sky you feel all your nerves and excitement for anything but the flight leave you. this is what your mother will never understand; flying is an escape, yes, but not from your duties as she assumes it is. this is an escape from your worries, from the petty machinations of court. in the sky with your dragon, you need worry only about how chill the wind will be, or if aemond is out with vhagar, who’s a grumpy old beast at the best of times and silverwing is feeling mischievous.

you find peace, here, in the sky. this is what you were born for.

long minutes pass as you fly leisurely, circling over the bay and the keep and back again in ever widening circles. sometimes silverwing dives just to do so, plunging so close to the blackwater that you could reach out and skim your hand over the dark depths. you lose track of time as the two of you fly, contentment bleeding across the bond so completely you can’t even tell which one of you it’s coming from.

a dragon’s cry in the distance catches your attention, and silverwing pulls up from where she’d been ducking her head into the water to snatch fish. she propels you rapidly higher into the air, crying out in response as you break through the thin cloud cover. you expect to find aegon’s dragon; sunfyre is the only dragon silverwing likes, rather than tolerates, to be making such a noise in greeting.

but it’s an unfamiliar dragon that greets you, olive green scales shining with the damp from the high altitudes. your mind races as you struggle to place it, and it’s only when you catch sight of a head of dark curls astride the dragon that you realise who it is.

vermax.

and jacaerys.

your heart skips in your chest, silverwing’s unexpected excitement tangling with your own nerves as she swoops towards the much smaller dragon. it’s only her sheer happiness that stops you from panicking or shouting a command to halt in valyrian, and moments later you recall she’d have known vermax from her time on dragonstone.

she somersaults over and around vermax playfully, and you release an exhilarated laugh in response as you cling tightly to the saddle. you see only snatches of jace as your dragons fly complicated patterns around each other, but the quick flashes you do get find an easy smile on his face.

the dragons spend a long while flying together, racing and diving and spiralling to new heights. they move so quickly that you have no chance to try and greet jacaerys, can offer nothing more than quick smiles as you pass him. it gives you the time for your nerves to settle back down, time to reassure yourself that any childhood feelings are long faded and that you will be able to act perfectly composed when it is time to greet him.

eventually you realise your dragon is not going to land until you tell her too, and vermax is clearly just as willing to chase after the larger she-dragon for as long as she is willing to be chased.

“māzigon, silverwing. istiti tegun [come, silverwing. we must land],” you shout, laughing again when the dragon whines her displeasure. she listens regardless, soaring down in tightening circles with vermax following close on your tail. her landing in the dragon pit is far from smooth, but you’re well used to compensating for the jostling as she settles onto the ground once more.

you’re quick in freeing yourself from the saddle, murmuring warm thanks and praise to your dragon as you walk to the side of her great head to meet a single burning eye. “kirimvose, ñuha raqiros. kesi sōvegon arlī aderī [thank you, my friend. we will fly again soon],” you tell her, and she responds with a content grumble as she nudges her head gently against your chest in affection.

you leave the dragon keepers to return her to her cave, instead turning to watch as jace shares his own goodbyes with his dragon. you take the chance to look at him, properly look, and find yourself suddenly warring with self-consciousness and a burning in your chest.

despite the acrobatics of the dragons, he looks perfectly put together with his dark curls brushing his shoulders and a pleasing tan to his skin. you fear you must look a ruin, with your hair undoubtedly a mess and cheeks flushed from the cold bite of the wind. your breath is still a touch laboured from the exertion of the flight, while he looks perfectly composed in his fancy black and red doublet. you curse the old gods and the new that you’d picked out your old riding gear this morning — comfortable, yes, but certainly not ideal for greeting the heir to the heir and the man you’d once daydreamed about marrying.

you push the thoughts away with determined stubbornness, refusing to dwell on the warmth in your chest when jace finally turns to look at you. he’s grown, you note immediately, now standing at least a head taller than you. any traces of baby fat have left him, leaving behind a strong, square jaw and strong yet slim shoulders. his dark eyes are warm, though, and his smile friendly as he takes you in.

you dip instinctually into a curtsey, a perfectly respectable greeting ready on your lips, but you’re startled into straightening back to standing when jace laughs.

“come now, princess,” he says, fond and teasing he approaches you. he’s the only one who’s ever been able to make the title sound more like an endearment. “since when have we been ones for formality?”

it sets you at ease immediately, tension relaxing from your shoulders as you beam at him. “i suppose we never have been very good at that, have we?” you let your eyes skip over him again, something like relief settling in your bones at the sight of him. “it’s good to see you again, jace.”

“aye,” he returns, dark eyes sparkling. “it is good to see you, indeed.”

for a long moment he simply looks at you, and it makes that peculiar warmth in your chest blaze a little brighter. there’s something in his face that you’ve never seen there before — but then you think of course there is. you haven’t seen him in so long there’s probably all kinds of things about you him you no longer know. it aches, almost, to think it, but in a way he’s a stranger to you; a man with the kind eyes of the boy you’d loved in secret, once.

you clear your throat as you drop your eyes from his stare, glancing at the bustling keepers as they tend to your dragons instead as you cast about for something to say.

“are the rest of your family not flying in?” you query after a moment.

he shakes his head, dark curls swaying with the movement. “no, arrax and tyraxes are still too small to fly luke and joff for such a journey, and mother would rather stay with my brothers on the ship.”

you nod in acceptance, shifting slightly on the spot. “well then, let me be the first to welcome you back to king’s landing, my prince.” you take the formality out of your tone with a playful wink, and are gratified to see the way he chuckles at your antics.

“i had hoped you’d be the first i’d see.” he admits this casually, as if this doesn’t set your heart and mind racing. “i have missed you, aunt.”

you duck your head again to try and hide the smile spreading across your face. you tell yourself sternly to stop acting like some lovesick child, all the while that small flame continues to burn away inside of you. “and i you, nephew.” you glance up at him shyly from beneath your lashes, teeth worrying at your bottom lip, and you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement.

he’s the one to clear his throat, this time, stepping a half-pace away from you and gesturing for you to proceed him. “shall we head to the keep, then? my mother’s ship should have arrived by now and we wouldn’t want to miss the formal welcome.”

“as you say,” you agree, and the two of you set off.

you spend the long walk to the keep catching up on the long years between you. you’d expected the time apart to be like a gulf between you, a canyon that could not be crossed, but if anything it’s the opposite. it’s as if you’d last seen each other only hours ago. it should startle you, how simple it feels to fall into your old friendship, but you don’t have it in you to be surprised. that’s always been the thing with jace, after all — it’s easy. being around him, speaking to him, listening to his odd tangents. it all comes as natural to you as breathing, as if there’s a part of you that was just born knowing him.

he's dodging your questions as you finally arrive at the keep, having let slip something about an old secret from the days of your childhood that he’s never shared with you. it makes something flutter in your chest, the way he looks at you as he says it. the way he’s looked at you the whole time, in fact, has you having to bite back a smile. he looks at you as if he is looking at something precious, expression tender and fond and uncomplicated. it threatens to steal your breath again, and so you make an effort to try and act as unaffected as possible, because he cannot mean it in the way you think you might want him too.

“oh, but you simply must tell me!” you wheedle cheerfully, a mischievous smile on your lips. “you wouldn’t keep a secret from me, would you, my prince?”

you pout at him, fluttering your lashes in the way you usually do when trying to get your way with your brothers. jace swallows audibly at the sight, some emotion you can’t read flickering across his eyes as his gaze drops to your mouth and then lower again before returning to your eyes. something in his expression makes you flush, cheeks burning as your lips part slowly. a heat rises in you, unbidden, as he steps ever so slightly closer into your space. you’re overwhelmed with the smell of him; sea salt and dragon smoke and something almost woodsy underneath it, something entirely jace.

he murmurs your name so quietly you almost miss it over the sounds of courtyard. his hand twitches as if to reach for you as he ducks his head slightly, and you think if you lifted yours just so you’d be able to brush your lips over the strong line of his jaw. you realise suddenly how much you want to — how much you want to drag your tongue over his skin and taste.

oh.

oh.

you want him. that peculiar feeling that had been burning in your chest — you recognise the desire for what it is, now. the easy camaraderie that you’d fell into on the walk to the keep subsides in the wake of it, and abruptly all you can think of is what his mouth will feel like on your own. the palpable tension between you makes your hands tremble with the urge to touch, heart pounding so loudly in your ears it drowns out anything that isn’t him as the rest of the courtyard fades away.

you sway the barest inch closer, inhaling his scent deeply, and watch as jace’s nostrils flare in response. with a shaky breath you lift your chin, eyes dropping to his parted lips, and you bite your bottom lip as his tongue sweeps over his own.

“jace…”

“brother! there you are!”

luke’s voice startles you both back to reality as you spring apart. you hadn’t realised just how close you’d gotten, your chests almost brushing with every breath, until the gap between you widens. you drop your eyes to your feet, cheeks blazing with embarrassment as you realise how close you’d come to kissing him in an extremely public place. you chide yourself internally for forgetting yourself, and take another second to gather your composure before lifting your head with a smile.

“hello, nephew,” you greet luke warmly, doing your best to ignore the way jace’s eyes burns into the side of your face. “it is very good to see you again.”

“aunt!” luke fairly cheers, and you note how the youth still clings to his face. while certainly older than the last time you’d seen him, he still seems like a child to you. his limbs are long and gangly, in that awkward stage at the cusp of adulthood where he’s not quite grown into himself yet. he bounds closer, drawing you into a hug that you allow and return with a fond laugh.

“luke, honestly,” jace tuts, shaking his head as the two of you separate. “we’re at court, now. at least try to remember your manners.”

the younger boy winces. “ah, right, yes.” he sketches a quick but perfect bow your way. “it is a great honour to see you once more, princess.” he flashes a cheeky smile and a wink your way as he straightens out, and you press your hand to your mouth to smother a giggle at the exasperated look on jace’s face at his brother’s antics. he’s hardly one to talk, you think, considering how quickly he had dispensed with manners when greeting you.

in return, you dip into a practiced if impish curtsey. “it is a sincere pleasure to see you as well, prince lucerys.”

luke does giggle, then, as jace rolls his eyes so hard you think they’re at risk of falling out of his head. despite his dramatics, you spot the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he watches you jape with his brother.

“the queen is looking for you, dear aunt,” luke says after the greetings are done, and your amusement flees you as your stomach drops.

it’s only then you realise that with both luke and jace being here, you’ve certainly missed the official welcome of princess rhaenyra back to court. you wince at the thought of your mother’s ire, resigning yourself to a long lecture about your responsibilities and how dragon riding is ‘not one of them’. jace catches your expression, concern creasing his face as his brows furrow.

“alright?” he checks, and you do your best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“yes, i’m sure all will be well.” you hesitate a moment before offering a one-shouldered shrug, ignoring the voice in your head that sounds far too much like your mother telling you how unladylike such a motion is. “i expect my mother will be displeased with me for missing the official welcome, but the festivities will surely distract her quick enough.”

luke and jace both offer you a commiserating smile as the three of you head into the keep. you expect your mother will be waiting in her solar, which is on a close route to the guest suites set aside for the visiting royals, and so you walk with the velaryons as far as you can. when it comes time to part, jace lingers at the entry of the hall as luke continues down the corridor. his dark eyes are fixed to yours so intensely it steals your breath as you slow to a stop as well.

“i’ll see you at the feast,” he says quietly, capturing your hand in his much larger one and bringing it to his mouth. your breath hitches in your chest, eyes widening as he brushes his lips tenderly over your knuckles. your lips part in surprise, tingles racing up your arm from where his mouth makes contact with your skin. before you have chance to respond, jace dips into a sweeping bow and then bids you farewell, leaving you staring after him for a long moment.

well. if your mother doesn’t kill you, you think jace certainly will.

jace sinks into the hot water of the bath with a deep sigh of relief.

after meeting with his mother to explain why he’d been late to the formal greetings — or, rather, offer excuses as to why he’d been late, since he doesn’t think his mother will take well to the idea he was so busy enjoying himself flying with you that the thought of any formal welcome party left his mind entirely — he’d sought his chambers. the bath had been ready and waiting for him, tendrils of steam wafting from the clear water, and he’d wasted no time in shedding his clothes. he’s keen to wash the dragon stink from his skin before the feast, and he makes quick work of scrubbing his skin clean. when he’s done, he allows himself to relax against the metal of the tub, arms draped carelessly over the metal rim as he soaks.

king’s landing from dragonstone is not too long a journey on dragon back, but flying for such a stretch causes its own particular aches. vermax had enjoyed the chance to stretch his wings, at least, and had enjoyed the playful flight with silverwing even more.

he can admit to himself he’d enjoyed it, too, the sight of you astride your dragon lighting something within him. it’s been so long since he’d seen you, not since the aftermath of laena’s funeral, and he hadn’t been prepared for how the sight of you — breathless and flush and beaming at him — would make him feel. he’d almost managed to push back his boyhood adoration and childhood daydreams of marrying you one day with the years passing, but seeing you again brings it all rushing back and he feels as hopelessly enamoured with you now as he did as a child.

you’ve grown well, there’s no denying that. where childhood had left you sometimes awkward and gangly, you’ve become a woman grown now with all the curves and delights that come with it. he’d been embarrassed at how hard it had been to pull his gaze from you on the trip to the keep, but you’d not seemed to notice. too occupied with filling the air between you with light chatter, you’d been oblivious to the way his eyes had dragged over your form again and again.

you just — you’re so unlike anyone else he knows. he’d let himself forget how lovely you were, but there was no way to ignore it now. riding the high of your flight and genuinely happy to see him, you’d been like something out of a dream. your face had been as open to him as ever, plainly delighted to see him, and seeing you had eased some ache he’d become so used to he’d not even know it was there until he felt the lack of it.

he’s not some foolish child. he knows better than to think of things like love when his head must lie with his duty. but the thought remains regardless, lingering in the back of his mind that you would be as easy to love now as you had been when you were younger. it had been a childish love then, of course; innocent and sweet in the ways only children could be. but it had been there, unspoken and unacted upon, but no less real for it.

you’re not children anymore. it would be impossible to think otherwise with the way your riding gear had clung flatteringly to your chest and hips. your mouth looked so pretty stretched into a smile, a smile for him, and he thinks it’s a testament to his restraint that he’d not kissed you on the spot when you’d pouted so prettily up at him. he’d thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps you were going to kiss him with the way your eyes had darkened, how you’d gravitated into his space as if without intention.

heat pools in his stomach as he thinks about how the neckline of your riding dress had cut low enough to allow him a peak at your chest, heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. he wonders what your mouth would taste like, what noises you would make if he’d slid his tongue against your own. gods, he feels like a green boy seeing a woman for the first time — almost undone at just the thought of you. he won’t be able to get through the welcome feast like this, he thinks, so on edge with his lust for you burning him from the inside out.

it’s not even a conscious choice to curl his fingers around his cock, half-hard already as he thinks of you. jace’s head tips back against the rim of the bath, eyes drifting closed as a quiet gasp escapes him. the warm water eases his way as he strokes himself, and he lets himself imagine it’s your slick, instead.

he pictures you before him, pretends it’s your hand teasing at the skin at the head of his cock. your hands are so small, so dainty, he thinks you probably wouldn’t be able to wrap them all the way around him. he imagines they’re a little calloused — soft, mostly, but with the fingertips just rough enough from years spent riding and caring for your dragon. they’d drag so deliciously against his skin, and you’d take to the task with the same voracious enthusiasm you do with everything else. you’d watch him closely, pick up on the cues of his pleasure, and he’d unravel for you so quickly it’d be embarrassing if it was anyone else.

“fuck,” he hisses out, thumb dragging over the liquid leaking copiously from his tip. his head tips back even further, water dripping from his curls onto the stone floor as he chases his release. his imagining splinters into disconnected fantasies; you, on your knees with your mouth stretched around him, lashes damp with reflexive tears as your eyes fix on his. you, sprawled beneath him and writhing as he feasts on your cunt like a man starved. you, babbling in high valyrian as he sinks into the tight wet heat of you. you, clenching and shuddering around his cock as you come for him, blazing and beautiful. you, you, you.

his release hits him hard, a low groan tearing from his throat as his hips thrust up into his hand as he drags out those last few moments of pleasure. his panting breaths sound loud in the silence of his chambers, and jace is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he is alone. there is, of course, no trace of you.

he knows in that moment he has to have you. he cannot tolerate the thought of anyone else — not for himself, and certainly not for you. he wants you as his wife, his queen, the mother of his children. jace doesn’t care how he must do it — as long as you’re as willing as he is, he is going to make you his.

the feast has started by the time jace arrives.

his indulgence had cost him time, and then he’d spent longer than usual readying himself while trying to ignore the fact he was doing so only to impress you. by the time he makes it to the hall his family are already seated and the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune. his eyes seek you instantly, and he resists the urge to frown in disappointment as he sees you sat between helaena and aemond. he’d hoped to sit beside you and use this time to see if there was any hint of you returning his feelings. no matter — there would be time enough later. if he has his way, there’ll be all the time in the world.

you look beautiful, he notes. you’re dressed in your usual deep green, the gown cut flatteringly for your shape. your face is animated and happy as you chat to aemond, and though he finds the idea of anyone enjoying that grumpy prick’s presence bizarre, he enjoys the sight of you so at ease.  

as he approaches the head table and the empty seat between his mother and luke, your eyes linger on him. he’s gratified by the way you light up when you spot him, offering him a warm smile in welcome for all that you’re quickly entangled into a conversation with your sister. it eases some of the sting at finding you unavailable, and he’s helpless but to smile back at you even when your gaze slides back to helaena.

luke eyes him strangely as he settles into his seat but says nothing as jace reaches for a goblet of wine. his mother greets him absently, entangled as she is in conversation with the king, and he takes the moment to glance out at the hall.

it’s a relatively small feast. large enough to not cause offence to the heir to the throne, but not so grand as to detract from the festivities planned for the next fortnight. he recognises a few faces in the crowd, people from different houses from across the kingdoms. the king’s birthday celebrations are no small affair, and he spots representatives from all the great houses as well as some of the more minor ones.

it makes him want to slump in his seat, for all that he keeps his posture straight. he knows the next few weeks will be full of politicking and double speak, and it grates. as the heir to the heir, jace knows it’s partially his responsibility to ensure their alliances still stand while seeking out any news one that might present themselves. he has no doubt that some of the lords in this crowd will have brought their daughters, planning to parade them in front of him and his brothers in hopes they might pick one as their betrothed.

his lack of betrothal has been a point of contention for many of the court, he knows. most had assumed he would be betrothed to his stepsister baela, and he’d thought the same for years. it was only when his mother had confided that baela had no interest in being queen and, in fact, was so strongly opposed to the idea that she swore to fly to essos and never be seen again if they tried marrying her to him that he realised just why such a betrothal had never been announced.

it had left him free, in a way, to pursue his own desires; without a betrothal attached to him he’d shed any guilt about seeking company at the pleasure houses. but, in turn, it had left him open to the machinations of the other houses who all sought to have their blood on the iron throne. it’s incredibly tedious, but he knows he must grin and bear it for the sake of his mother and his house.

the food arrives then, and he busies himself with the meal and talking to his siblings. his grandsire makes a speech welcoming his daughter and her family home, and jace notes the sour faces of alicent’s sons. they keep their tongues, at least, which shows a maturity from them he truthfully hadn’t expected. perhaps they’ve grown just as you have, he thinks, but dismisses the thought when aemond catches his eye and only sneers in response to jace’s tentative smile.

he's often wondered at the conflict between the two sides of the family. the animosity now he can pinpoint, of course; aemond losing his eye. but there had been years before that of tense, standoffish behaviour interspersed with camaraderie when everyone seemed to forget they weren’t meant to be friends. he remembers playing pranks with aegon while luke trailed after them, and he remembers sitting with helaena while she perused the dirt for bugs.

he remembers you, most of all. kind and fearless and smart, you’d enamoured him from the moment he was old enough to recognise girls were different to boys in interesting ways. even before then you’d been fast friends, something in your similarly mischievous behaviour drawing you into each other’s orbit. he’s always been drawn to you, he thinks, to the uncomplicated joy you took in your life. there was so much to be miserable about, so much duty on all your shoulders, but you always found something to smile over. your unfailing optimism would no doubt be irritating to some, but to him it has always been one of his favourite things about you.

his gaze, predictably, shifts to you. he startles to find you looking at him already. you flush immediately as your eyes lock, presumably embarrassed at being caught, and he enjoys the colour it brings to your cheeks. you don’t drop his stare, though, not until helaena says something to draw your attention back to her once again. he catches sight of a private little quirk of your lips as your head turns, and something like satisfaction settles in his chest as he hides his own smile in his goblet.

perhaps this feast won’t be as tedious as he’d feared.

“are you enjoying the festivities, princess?”

jace’s voice pulls you from where you’ve been staring into your wine as if it holds all the secrets of the world. you’ve lost count of how many goblets you’ve had, chattering away with your siblings before aegon had started to become cruel in his inebriation and you’d all opted to split apart through the hall. you glance up to find the velaryon prince standing before you, hands perched loosely on the hilt of his sword. he looks unfairly handsome, you think, with his tumble of curls and well-fitted doublet, and something about the slight smirk on his face makes you think he knows it.

“i am enjoying them well enough,” you allow, flicking your gaze from his to look out at the dance floor. aemond is dancing with helaena, aegon far too deep into his cups to bother thinking of his wife. your mother is as tense as she has been since you’d found her earlier; her stepdaughter’s arrival to court has set her incredibly on edge, and the lecture she’d given you earlier had certainly been one of her worst. and your father is oblivious to it all, simply too pleased at the presence of his favoured daughter to care about the way the rest of his family are fracturing apart.

he's not been a good father to you, the king. he’s called you and helaena rhaenyra more than once over the years, and even when his eyes are you on you, you never feel like it’s you he sees. your mother had tried to soothe the ache of his absence, of his blatant favour for a woman who was not here, but as the years stretched on even she had seemed to fade further and further away from you all. for so long it’s just been the four of you, clinging to each other and tearing each other apart in equal measure. you’ve oft thought that daeron is the luckiest of you, able to thrive at the hightower and away from the mess of your family.

you pause at the maudlin turn of your thoughts, peering contemplatively into your wine again before offering jace a slightly sheepish smile. “i… fear i may have indulged in too much wine,” you admit, startling a laugh from the darkhaired prince.

it’s aegon’s fault, you decide; before he’d gotten belligerently drunk he’d been so cheerful, seemingly pleased to have the pressure of being the eldest targaryen child in court off of his shoulders. in his cheer he had plied you with wine, laughing and japing with an arm over your shoulder as you reminisced on simpler times of your childhood. happy to see him so, you’d not resisted, but now you find yourself regretting those choices as your thoughts tumble sluggishly through your mind.

jace shakes his head fondly at you, reaching out to carefully steal your goblet away. his fingers brush against yours as he does so, the barest of touches and yet enough to set your heart racing as you blink slowly up at him. he sips from your wine deliberately, amber eyes darkening as he holds your stare, and your lips part with an unsteady breath. something about him drinking your wine from your cup has your stomach fluttering pleasantly.

gods, i want him.

the thought is enough to startle you, heat suffusing your cheeks as you avert your gaze. jace doesn’t, though, and you can feel the weight of his stare on you like a tangible thing. it makes your skin prickle with warmth, and you lurch a touch unsteadily to your feet before you can say anything silly like ‘kiss me, please’.

“i think i should retire to my chambers before i make a drunken fool of myself,” you announce, fingers smoothing over the green velvet of your dress.

“i’ll escort you,” jace returns, tone leaving no room for argument.

he sets aside the wine and offers you his arm, quirking an eyebrow as if in challenge. you hesitate for barely a second, taking a steadying breath, before looping your arm through his and allowing him to lead you through the crowd towards the open doors. the woodsy smell of him you’d noticed before is clearer, now, and you take another deep breath of the scent. it calms your nerves and yet inflames your desire, and your fingers tighten infinitesimally against his bicep.

you stop at the doors of the feasting chamber for long enough to let ser erryk know that you’re retiring for the evening, leaving it to him to pass the message on to your mother, and then you and jace are alone in the halls of the keep.

of course, you’re not truly alone. guards litter the corridors and even at this late hour servants bustle along, busy with their chores. but in the quiet of the keep as jace leads you to your rooms, you can almost imagine yourself alone with him. the thought threatens to overwhelm you, mad fantasies of him tugging you into a dark alcove to devour you flashing through your mind, and you scold yourself internally.

you’re really very cross with aegon. he and his wine have left you in this state, too far into your cups to keep control of your dangerous wonderings. if only he had not kept calling for more of that gods-be-damned arbor gold, you’d have been able to keep your wits about you. you’d wanted to dance at the feast, too, mayhaps even with jacaerys but at the very least with your brothers. instead, you’re being led back to your rooms like a child who’s had their first taste of wine with dinner and let it go to their head.

jace’s presence helps your intoxication little. seeing him again, touching him, smelling him — it’s all too much when all your defences are down like this. you feel like a girl again, staring breathlessly after him and so full of certainty that you love him, and it’s just— ridiculous. you’ve spent mere hours in his presence and you’re like some lovelorn idiot with no thought in your mind beyond being as close to him as is possible. it’s foolish, reckless, absurd. but it’s there, regardless, unfurling in your chest with a lovely kind of agony.

you keep quiet on the walk, too afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll beg him to have his way with you or, worse, confess your re-blooming infatuation for him, and jace seems content enough to walk in silence for a while. eventually, though, he speaks.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you drunk before,” he observes, tone light.

you glance at him sidelong, pursing your lips at the teasing smirk curling on his mouth. “it’s aegon’s doing,” you tell him solemnly. “my brother is something of an expert on the subject of wines, and his tolerance is… much higher than mine own.”

jace snorts. “aye, i had noticed.”

you lapse into silence, again, only now you find yourself stealing glances at him. he really is very pretty, you think, though in quite a masculine way. something about the sharp line of his jaw and the curl of his eyelashes keeps drawing your attention, and you suspect you are not being subtle with your admiration in your inebriated state. as you walk by an open window moonlight floods into the hall, sending jace’s profile into sharp relief, and your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his smooth skin. something about the pattern makes you think of the stars, and you realise too late that your quick glances have turned to a lingering stare.

“is there something on my face, princess?”

jace’s mockingly innocent words draw your eyes to his. he’s smirking down at you, eyes dancing with amusement, and your cheeks flush. gods, you don’t think you’ve blushed so much in moons compared to the mere hours you’ve spent in his company. the things this man is doing to you — it is unconscionable. you don’t know how much more of this you can take before your resolve breaks.

“i apologise, my prince,” your respond after a beat, teeth biting at your lip. “i did not mean to… i was leagues away.”

his eyes darken, mischief fleeing them in favour of flickers of something else as they linger on your mouth, and that damnable heat in your stomach blazes. you want desperately to surge forward and kiss him, or for him to take you in his hands and kiss you. you just want, and ache, and burn. and it’s too much, far too much for your wine-addled brain to process, but you know if anyone was to happen upon you in this corridor, starting at him with your mouth parted and your breaths shuddering through your lungs, there will be consequences.

“we should— we are almost at my chambers.” your words are stumbling, loud in the sudden quiet that had descended over the pair of you, and jace startles a little, eyes darting away from yours as your stomach plummets. gods, what are you doing? staring at him in such a way? he must think you a simple-minded fool, gaping at him for the sake of a few freckles. you step away from him, rubbing your arm as you turn your eyes to stare intently at your feet instead. “i can make it the rest of the way from here. you should return to the feast.”

jace is quiet for a long moment and you peek up at him to see him watching you with an indecipherable expression for a charged breath before nodding slowly and taking a step away.

“as you wish,” he murmurs, ducking his head in a simple bow. “sweet dreams, princess.”

you stutter out your own farewell, half-convinced you’ll be dreaming of nothing but his hands and his mouth this night, before turning and all but fleeing down the hall.

oh, yes. jacaerys is certainly going to be the death of you.

jace spends the next few days at court so entangled in his responsibilities he feels he barely sets eyes upon you.

he and his mother are roped into starting the celebrations in the absence of the king himself. his grandsire’s health is failing, of that there is no doubt, and after enjoying himself a touch too heartily at the welcome feast he requires a few days to recover. he thinks perhaps that’s why these festivities are so important; it’s unlikely the king will make it to his five and fiftieth name day, and almost certainly not his sixtieth. it leaves him with… complicated feelings.

when his grandsire dies, he will no longer be the heir to the heir, but the heir to the iron throne itself. it’s a daunting thought; for all that his mother has seen him well prepared to sit his throne one day, it feels such an impossible task. he doesn’t understand how he’s ever supposed to be ready for such a thing.

the thought rises, unbidden, that it would be easier with you by his side. with your kind heart but sharp mind, you’d make a fine queen. he finds himself daydreaming of it still and scolding himself all the while for acting the green boy, and yet unable to stop. it’s as if his every thought leads back to you in some way or another — he sees a flower and wonders if you’d like the smell of it, or sees a dress and thinks of how much lovelier it would look on you. at night he indulges in more sensual wonderings, and he swears he’s not felt the urge to touch himself so much since he was a boy of five and ten just starting to discover the pleasures the touch of another can bring.

for all that you’d appeared to reject him the night of the welcome feast, he finds himself certain you desire him just as he does you. in fact, he fancies it’s that very desire that had led to you fleeing his company and avoiding him in the days after.

because you are avoiding him.

yes, he is busy with the festivities and you are perhaps equally so. but he does not think it’s busyness that drives you to seek conversation with absolutely anyone else when he looks for your company, and it is not busyness that has you clinging to aemond’s side so fiercely either. you know he won’t approach you when you’re with your brother, knowing how it hurts you to see them trade barbs and knowing himself well enough to know he will not be able to bite back his rancour if aemond says a word about his father.

jace is not an idiot. he knows what people say about him, the words they barely bother to whisper behind their hands about who his true sire is. he has complicated feelings about that, too, but it all boils down to one simple thing: he is his mother’s son. she is heir to the king, and he is her heir. for him, that’s all that can matter.

he knows it’s all that matters to you, too. for all that your brothers had spit bastard at him for as long as he can remember, you’ve never done so. you’ve never looked at him differently for the rumours of his birth, and it’s just one thing among many he treasures about you.

perhaps it’s foolish, to cling to these childhood feelings so tightly, but he cannot let the idea of the two of you together go. he knows luke has noticed how he stares after you in longing, since his brother has never been shy about teasing him relentlessly. he thinks his mother has noticed, too, from the few carefully inane comments she’s made about betrothals and duty. 

he supposes an argument could be made for the fact that with the years without contact between you, he doesn’t really know you anymore, not as he once did, but he doesn’t feel it matters. he can learn anything new about you and will in fact do so joyfully, but the important things? the things that speak to who you are at your core? jace has always known those, has always felt connected to you in a way he never has with another, and he loves you now just as he did as a boy. 

it would be easier in a way if he felt sure you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. at least then he could try and move on from them, put to bed his endless wonderings of you. but for as often as he turns his head to look at you, he finds you looking away from your own watching of him. the few, brief interactions he has with you over the next few days feel loaded, the desire and affection between you a palpable thing, and he’s tiring of pretending there’s nothing there anymore.

he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t miss you.

so, at the halfway point of the celebrations when there’s another, larger feast held with plenty of chances for dancing and sneaking away into dark corners, he makes it a point to keep an eye on you. the moment he spots you, finally alone, he beelines for you. your attention is on your necklace, readjusting the pendant that rests on your chest, and he cannot help but let his gaze linger on the swell of your breasts as he approaches. he’s found himself staring at your chest more often than is wholly appropriate over the last few days, but then he knows his own weaknesses when it comes to a woman’s form.

“p-prince jacaerys,” you greet weakly when you look up from your necklace, hands smoothing over the skirts of your dress. your eyes dart about the room as if seeking a rescue from someone, and he tries not to feel how such a response to his presence stings. “how are you enjoying the feast?”

“well enough,” he returns, echoing the words you’d spoke to him days ago. gods, has it only been days since that conversation? it feels like an age, and he has felt more distant from you in these passing moments than he is in your years apart.

“that is… good.” your fingers twist around each other, teeth catching on your bottom lip, and he has to swallow back the sudden rush of desire to be the one nipping at the pouting flesh.

“would you do me the honour of a dance, princess?”

his request startles you, eyes widening as your fingers drop back to your side in surprise. he thinks for a wild moment that you’ll say no, make some excuse to remove yourself from him, and he feels himself bracing for the rejection. but you hesitate, searching his face, and whatever you find there seems to soften something in you as you nod.

“of course.” you offer him your hand, an unsure smile on your face.

he takes it with relief, trying not to react at the sensation of your hand in his own. he was right in thinking your hands are smooth, but as he leads you to the dance floor and your fingers slide over his palm he feels the drag of callouses as he’d expected. it pulls him back into that heated imagining of before for a moment, and he has to shake his head slightly to keep himself from losing his wits.

you stay quiet as he guides you into position, dainty hand resting on his shoulder as he places his own at your hip. he leads you through the first few steps in quiet, too, taking the moment to enjoy having you in his arms, having you close. but he realises after a silent minute that you’re obviously not going to say anything, and even as he looks beseechingly at you appear to avoid meeting his eyes.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he speaks lowly, watching you carefully as you stare purposefully at the bridge of his nose instead of his eyes.

your eyes flicker away and back and then away again, fingers tightening around his own as he leads you through the steps of the dance effortlessly. “aye,” you admit quietly. “i have been.”

“why?” he doesn’t mean to sound so desperate nor so accusing, but the quiet hurt that your absence has caused him surges forth before jace can stop it.

you finally meet his gaze, eyes helpless and wanting and aching, and his stomach twists at the sight of your conflicted expression.

“i— jace, i can’t.” your voice cracks with the weight of your emotion and without thinking he pulls you closer, arm wrapping tight around your waist to provide you some semblance of comfort. “i can’t. not here, please.”

wordlessly he alters the steps of the dance, drawing you with precision through the crowd of dancers until you come to one of the balconies. it’s blessedly empty of anyone else, and as soon as you realise it some tension seems to shake loose of you.

you step out of his grip slowly, almost reluctantly, and walk to the railing, palms splaying on the stone. he joins you after the barest hesitation, drinking you in as you stare out at the courtyard and beyond. he notices how tightly you grip the banister, colour leeching from you knuckles with the strength of your grip, and almost without thinking jace rests his hand beside your own, pinkie fingers brushing. the touch seems to release something in you and he hears how your breath shudders before you speak.

“i embarrassed myself on the night of the welcome feast,” you confess miserably. “i drank too much, and the way that i behaved— staring at you in that way— it was not becoming behaviour of a princess, nor of a, a friend. i did not wish to make you uncomfortable again, so i thought it best i keep my distance from you.”

he blinks in surprise. “uncomfortable?” the mere idea of such a thing is maddening. he recalls the sight of you before him, lips parted and oh so kissable as you’d stared at him with such intention it had set him ablaze. how in the name of the gods can you think he found such a thing uncomfortable? “princess, i can assure you, the only feeling i took from your admiration is delight.”

your head snaps around, eyes finally meeting his own again, and he shakes his head in bemusement at the sight of your desperate hope. “truly? you do not jest?”

he resists the urge to chuckle, knowing you’ll take any kind of laughter, no matter how well meaning, poorly. instead he reaches for you, grasps your hands in his own and tries not to bask in the way you lean into him as he steps recklessly into your space. he feels your trembling breaths puff against his jaw as he ducks his head to stare intently into your eyes, and if he were a weaker man jace thinks he’d be on his knees in prostration for you in that very moment.

“surely you must know how i feel for you?” he murmurs, tracking the way the flush in your cheeks travels down your neck and onto your chest with greedy eyes. “how desperately i adore you?”

“jacaerys—.” you huff, shaking your head in denial for all that with every breath you take you sway ever closer to him. “we hardly know each other anymore. i won’t deny there is, is a yearning between us, mayhaps, but you cannot claim to adore me when you know me not. it’s been years since—"

“—do you think time matters?” he talks over you, strong in his conviction that you and he share a bond that transcends time or distance or duty. “that any distance between us could change what i know in my bones? i loved you before i had a name for it. i loved you when we were children and, yes, i love you again now. mayhaps i don’t know your favourite sweet or if you prefer to watch the sun rise or set, but i know you. i know who you are, princess, for all that i might no longer know the rest of it. i know your good heart, your quick mind and i know that i love you.” he hesitates, drinks in the dawning, open wonder on your face, and then adds, “and i think you might love me just the same.”

you sigh out his name sweetly, fingers tangling with his own as he squeezes your hands tenderly. you tilt your chin towards him as your eyes flutter shut. his nose slides against your own as you turn just so to the side, and your mouth is so close. he could kiss you, right now, and he knows that you would not pull away. but he’s too aware of the noise of the feast, the crowd of people that at any moment could find you in a compromising position.

he wants you, gods does he want you, but he will not ruin your reputation, will not sully your virtue for the sake of a stolen kiss on a balcony when he desires no less than forever with you.

“i will not push you,” he murmurs against your lips, breathing the air right from your lungs as he presses his forehead to yours for just a moment. “if you do not want this — if you do not return my feelings — i won’t push you nor pursue you. i hold too great a respect for you for that.” he cradles your jaw, thumb dragging at the corner of your mouth, and he glories in the way you shudder at his touch. with an unsteady breath he separates himself from you, hands clenching into fists at his side in an effort not to immediately reach for you again.

“but if you decide you want me as i want you, that you love me as ardently as i you, then my chambers will be unguarded and unlocked for you.” he sketches a bow, heart thundering in his chest as you stare at him in wordless shock. “i hope to see you later tonight, my princess.”

you have no chance to respond before jace leaves you standing on the balcony.

he leaves you with your mind swirling, one thought after another coming so quickly you have no hope in processing them. you’re glad to be outside, at least, the cool breeze helping soothe the heat that blazes through your veins as you press your hand over your racing heart. you don’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do. all you can think about is jace, earnest and honest and in love with you.

he’s in love with you (!).

it’s too quick. too much time has passed with too little contact. in the years since he left court you’ve grown into new people, people who for all intents and purposes are strangers to each other. the lust is there, there’s no point in denying that with how your body warms at the smallest glance from him. and that old familiarity that blossomed as friendship as children and now into easy companionship as adults, that remains as it always has. and mayhaps you’ve thought to yourself, in the dark quiet of the night, that you’ll surely love him once more. that to know him any better at all is to love him again, because how can you know him and not love him?

but there’s been years and leagues between you for so long. time and distance have their ways of changing a heart, and he might say it doesn’t matter but it does. it does.

only it doesn’t, not at all, because giddiness is bubbling up in you so sudden that you cannot fight it, a helpless laugh escaping you as you press your hand over your mouth in unabashed amazement. your brave prince, plunging headfirst into the long-unspoken feelings between you. it incites you to act, drives you back into the hall where you catch aegon for long enough to tell him you’re retiring for the night before escaping into the quiet corridors.

you feel like your heart is going to burst in your chest, nerves and excitement and awe twisting together inside of you until you feel like you might vibrate out of your own skin. the walk to jace’s chambers is a haze, and in the morning you expect you’ll panic, wonder if anyone saw you walking so shamelessly towards the prince’s rooms. but now, in this moment, all you can think of is how fervently you want him, how guilelessly you love him.

the knock on his door — unguarded, as he had promised — echoes loudly in the silent corridor. you can hear your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as you wait for him to answer, and when he finally does he takes your breath away.

he’s shed his doublet and sword belt, standing in only his breeches and a billowing off-white tunic. the ties are loose on his neck and you’re entranced by the peek of tanned skin there, the freckles you can see disappearing beneath the shirt. he says your name, once, and your eyes snap back to him in time to see the relief and wonder coalesce into smouldering fire.

he curls his fingers around your wrist, thumb swiping over the delicate skin in a way that makes you shiver, and he uses the hold to wordlessly tug you into his chambers. you step into the space, eyes darting from the large bed to the roaring fire and back to the bed again as he locks the doors behind you.

you are finally, blissfully, alone.

you feel his presence behind you, heat and woodsmoke radiating from him as you turn to face him. something in your chest loosens at the blatant awe in his amber eyes, like liquid gold in the light of the flames, and before you can pause to think you’re speaking, your feelings escaping you in a flood.

“i shouldn’t be here,” you say shamelessly. “i know my being here is—. i shouldn’t be here. but i couldn’t not be, jace, not when you left without giving me a chance to tell you how i feel. because, gods, of course i feel for you. it’s unreasonable, insensible— there’s so much about each other we just don’t know anymore.” you shake your head, smiling at him wide and helpless and hopelessly, hopelessly in love with him. “but despite all the rationality in the world, all the good sense — despite knowing the trouble this is sure to bring us — i am completely and utterly in love with you, jacaerys velaryon.”

he kisses you, then, surges into your space and cups your cheeks and slots his mouth so sweetly against yours. you gasp into his lips as he kisses you deliberate, slow and tender in a way that makes your chest ache. your arms loop around his neck, pulling him as close as you can as his own arms wrap around your waist. your noses bump and your teeth clash in your eagerness and it’s still glorious, it’s the best kiss you’ve ever experienced because it’s him.

it’s always been him.

you part after a few minutes, remaining close together as he runs his hand through your hair before cradling your face once more. “tell me again,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing your breath.

“i love you,” you say, smiling so wide it makes your cheeks ache. “i love you, i love you, i lo—”

he kisses you again, a quick press of his mouth against your this time, and then he’s laughing softly as his golden eyes shine down at you. “i have loved you forever,” he tells you, indulgent and affectionate as his thumb traces over your cheek. “i will love you forever, my princess.”

he draws you closer still, holds you tightly against him but far enough that he can drink you in, and for long moments you simply bask in the presence of each other, of this slow unfurling of happiness in your heart. this close to him, you can once again see the freckles dotted across his face. without even thinking of it your hand rises, and with butterfly-gentle fingers you trace a path over the constellations mapped on sun-kissed skin. jace sighs softly with your touch, dark lashes fluttering closed as his lips part.

“iksā sīr gevie [you are so beautiful],” you murmur, slipping into high valyrian in the quiet of his chambers.

he exhales shakily, breath hitching in his chest as your fingers brush gently over his eyelids, the slope of his nose, the furrow of his brow. you want to remember him like this forever – bathed in the soft firelight, trembling beneath your tender touch, wholly and entirely yours.

“ñuha dārilaros [my princess],” he breathes, and hearing him speak possessively of you in your mother tongue ignites something within you so suddenly you cannot fight it.

arousal roars to life, deep in your belly, and you are helpless but to do anything but lean forward and press your lips to his once more. jace meets you just as greedily, hands gripping tightly to the flesh of your hips as he hauls you closer until your chests press together. your hand moves from his face to fist in his hair, tugging at his curls until he whines against your lips. he kisses you deep and open mouthed and filthy, tongue sliding against yours so deliciously that you can feel heat pulse between your legs.

one of his hands comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling until your head is tilted back. he trails hot, wet kisses along your neck and you hiss at the sensation, pressing his head closer to your skin. you feel him smirk against you before he mouths at your pulse point, teeth nipping just enough to send a thrill of pain and pleasure through you.

“jace,” you moan, grinding against him shamelessly as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin of your throat. you want him so fiercely it makes you reckless, makes you insatiable as the hand not buried in his curls drags down his back to grip at his ass. he groans against you, your name spilling from his lips so deep and husky that you want to do whatever you can to make him say it like that again and again and again.

“this is— we shouldn’t,” he says into your skin. he pushes at the shoulder of your dress to expose more of your bare skin to his greedy eyes, lips trailing the path his fingers have taken. “we should wait until we—. if anyone knew of this—”

“—no one will know,” you assure him, fingers flexing into the taut skin of his ass to drive him closer to you.

“i don’t want to, to besmirch your honour.” even as he speaks he’s dragging his tongue against your collarbone, chasing a bead of sweat down to the swell of your chest.

“fuck my honour,” you burst out, and your language has him moaning. you hitch your leg around his waist and his hand drops instantly to grip you at the knee, pulling you just so until the hard length of him is grinding deliciously against your core. you can’t think, can’t breathe, for wanting him. his touch and his scent and his taste consumes you, inflames you, and you care for nothing but the feel of him against you.

he pulls away from your chest, mouth swollen and pupils blown as he pants hotly. he presses his forehead to yours, squeezing your hip to still you as you shamelessly try to rub yourself against him. “this will bring ruin to you if it gets out, do you understand? it would break me to be the cause of such a thing.”

his desperation makes you hesitate, something about the fierce tone breaking into the haze of lust that consumes you. you take a moment to look at him, and you know with certainty that if you ask him to stop right this second he will.

but you don’t want him to stop. you’ve never wanted anything less.

“jace.” you cup his cheek, thumb dragging over his bottom lip as you force him to keep your gaze. “i know the risks of this as well as anyone.” you lean in closer, your nose sliding against his before you tilt your head to pepper soft, deliberate kisses along his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “i love you.” he sighs softly in pleasure before turning his head to capture your mouth again, and this kiss is a softer, slower thing.

when you break apart, you stare deeply into his eyes, making sure he can see the truth of your words. the heat in his amber eyes threatens to splinter you to pieces as you swallow thickly, almost overwhelmed once more with your desire for him.

“i am yours, jacaerys velaryon,” you say steadily. “no matter what happens from here— i belong to you.”

it’s like a dam breaks in him. his hands are suddenly everywhere as his mouth devours yours relentlessly, leaving you gasping and arching into his touch. he backs you towards his bed as his hands fist in your skirts, bunching the material up to your hips. he breaks from your mouth long enough to tug your dress over your head, leaving you in your thin small clothes, and despite the sweltering heat of the room your nipples harden beneath the sheer material.

“look at you, pretty thing,” he says reverentially, the weight of his heated gaze tangible as he stares at your heaving chest. “is this all for me?”

“yes,” you hiss, head tilting back as he trails kisses down the column of your throat. “all for you, jace. only ever for you.”

he groans at your words, deft fingers making quick work of the complicated stays of the brassiere, and when the material falls from you he stares for a long moment as if transfixed by the sight of your bare breasts. it makes you smug, knowing that those times you’ve caught his eyes lingering on your chest haven’t just been in your imagination.

“you are perfect,” he murmurs worshipfully, large hand cupping the side of your breast tenderly. “such a perfect girl for me.”

his thumb sweeps over your nipple, featherlight at first before returning more firmly when you sigh and lean into his touch. his other hand grips your hip once more, pulling you close to him as he lavishes more attention on your neck. he nips and kisses his way down your throat, your shoulder, the swell of your breast until he’s hunched slightly in front of you, sucking bruises into the tender skin of your chest.

“jacaerys, please.” you know not what you’re pleading for, only that you need something, and it’s as if he can read your mind as his mouth closes over your nipple. his hand, now free, gropes at your other breast as his tongue swirls tight circles around your nipple and your head tips back with a moan. it’s somehow enough and yet not, your hips bucking aimlessly as heat and slick pools between your legs, and you crave.

“more, please,” you beg shamelessly.

jace drops to the floor in response and the sight of him on his knees for you has your head spinning. he presses open mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your abdomen, bites gently at your hip as his hands slide steadily up your legs. you tremble beneath his careful ministrations, and he murmurs wordless assurances into your sweat-slick skin.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your smalls, dragging them agonisingly slowly down your legs until you can step out of them. standing completely bare before him you expect to find yourself shy, but the way jace looks at you rapturously has liquid heat licking through your veins instead.

he leaves lingering kisses on your thigh and down your leg, and when his mouth brushes over the tender skin at the back of your knee you feel them buckle. he huffs a gentle laugh against you, warm hands cradling your waist as he urges you to sit back on the bed. you do so unsteadily, planting your hands against the soft feather mattress and watching him with intent ardour.

he nudges your legs apart and settles between them, his shoulders spreading you wide around him and you release a soft breath as his thumbs rub soothing circles into your thighs. “let me take care of you, my princess,” he pleads, eyes wide and soft and beseeching as he gazes up at you. you nod hesitantly, not wholly sure what he intends, but then his eyes finally drop to your core and darken so quickly it makes your mouth dry.

“gods, look at you.” he drags a finger through your folds and your head cants back, a whine escaping you at the touch. “you’re so wet for me, love. so gorgeous.” he brings his finger to his mouth, licking it clean of your slick and it has your mouth dropping open because he’s obscene, you think. he’s glorious.

“you taste so good,” he says, his voice so rough with arousal it makes you shiver. “wanna taste more of you.”

with no more warning that that, he licks a deliberate strip along your slit before circling his tongue over your clit. your hand shoots to his hair, tangling in the dark curls as he feasts on you. his name falls from your lips over and over again like a prayer as he laps at your core, tongue pressing deliciously inside you. you grind wantonly against his mouth, panting as he laves at your cunt.

your pleasure climbs sharply, rising so high you’re helpless to resist the way your stomach tightens. as if sensing your approaching high jace shifts his focus to your pulsing clit, flicking his tongue rapidly over the bundle of nerves.

“jace, gods, feels so good,” you gasp out, fingers tightening in his curls to press his head impossibly closer. “please don’t stop, ‘m so close—”

he sucks harshly on your pearl, ever so carefully dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh, and you fall to pieces as that tightly wound ball in your stomach snaps. he coaxes you through the trembling release, gentling his attention on you to drag out your pleasure until you’re squirming away from him in sensitivity. when he pulls away from your core his face is shining with your slick and the sight makes you feel feral. you bend to reach him and he presses up to meet you, kissing you hot and messy as you drink the taste of yourself from his mouth.

“you did so well for me, my princess,” he pants into your mouth as he crowds you onto the bed and the praise blooms hot in your chest. “need you to be good for me a little longer, okay? need to prepare you.”

you whimper, capturing his mouth in another sloppy kiss and nipping thoughtlessly at his lips as he settles between your legs. you can feel the heavy length of him against your hip, kept from you by his breeches, and you’re suddenly insensible with desire to see more of his skin. you tug wordlessly at the hem of his tunic, pulling it free from his trousers, and with a huff of fond amusement he separates from you to pull it over his head and toss it aside.

you drink in the exposed planes of his chest, leaning up to drag your tongue from freckle to freckle along his collarbone, and jace groans out your name in response. you follow the map of constellations down his chest, pressing kisses and gentle bites to the skin until you come to one of his nipples. hesitantly you flick your tongue out, curl it around the puckered skin just as jace had done to you earlier.

“fuck,” he hisses, fingers clenching in the sheets as his arms tremble with the strain of keeping himself steady above you.

emboldened by his response you lavish the pebbled bud with attention, switching to the other when the fancy takes you, until jace is shuddering with desire and pushing your shoulders back into the bed. he swallows your protests with a flurry of kisses as his fingers trail down your chest, your abdomen until he reaches the heat between your legs. he presses a finger against you again and you arch into the touch, tossing your head back into the pillows.

“i want you so badly,” he confesses in a whisper as he sucks another bruise into your neck.

“yes,” you respond senselessly, hips bucking up to meet the slow stroke of his finger. “want you, jace, please.”

“i need to prepare you first, love,” he tells you again and you whine in displeasure. “i don’t wish to hurt you, so i need to get you ready for me.”

you’ve heard that it can hurt, what happens in bed between a man and a woman. you can’t comprehend the idea with how good you feel right now, how good he’s made you feel already, but you nod in acquiescence at jace’s stubborn expression and he beams down at you.

“that’s my good girl,” he utters affectionately, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

the finger that’s been sliding leisurely against you shifts, pressing inside with a familiar stretch. you’ve touched yourself before, explored what pleasure you can draw from your own body in the late of the night. you don’t know if it’s different because it’s the angle or just because it’s jace, but the feeling of his finger pumping into you is so much better than anything you’ve managed with your own clumsy digits and you moan with the pleasure of it.

“you’re so tight,” he says in amazement, burning gold eyes staring down at you worshipfully. “can’t wait to be inside you, my princess.”

you moan at his filthy words, hips bucking into his touch as he presses a second finger into you. this one pinches more, makes it almost uncomfortable until jace starts to rub slow circles over your clit with his thumb. any discomfort melts into liquid pleasure as he mouths at your neck once more, fingers crooking inside of you just so until stars burst behind your eyes.

“fuck, jacaerys—”

he shushes you softly even as his eyes gleam with smug pride. he picks up the pace, now, fucking you with his fingers as your pleasure starts to climb once more. just when you start to feel like you can’t take it anymore he slides a third finger in, the stetch burning deliciously this time, and you come apart on his fingers with a strangled moan of his name. he doesn’t relent this time, though, even when you writhe helplessly beneath him; he just chases another release for you without giving you a chance to recover, and the thrill rises so quickly it almost makes it a little hard to breathe.

“just one more,” he soothes as you whine, pressing delicate kisses to the corner of your mouth as he drives his fingers into you relentlessly. “you’re doing so well. just one more for me.”

your third climax hits you so hard your back bows up from the bed, mouth parting in a silent cry of pleasure as jace coaxes you through it before pulling his fingers from you. you ache at the loss, mewling your displeasure as your cunt clenches around nothing. he breathes a laugh at your impatience, kissing you so sweetly in such contrast to the delicious heat between you that it almost makes you weep.

with shaking hands you reach for the ties of his breaches, fumbling with the laces while he kisses you languidly. you make a triumphant little noise when you finally untie them and he smiles at you, adoring and soft and yet somehow feverishly aroused as you push the leather trousers down his hips. he helps you the rest of the way, kicking them off before returning to hover over you.

your hands brush his abdomen as you reach for him, fingers curling gently around the hard line of his cock, and he realises a shuddering breath in response. he watches you intently as you stare at his arousal, fascinated by the way your fingers barely close around the thick girth of him. he’s going to fill you so well, you realise, and you bite your lip as your core clenches again. the tip of him is leaking fluid, and you drag your hand up his cock to swipe your thumb over the head.

jace moans at the movement, so you do it again and again, watching in inflamed curiosity at the way his stomach contracts as he thrusts into your hand, the wet noise of it making you flush down to your toes as desire sparks in your core. his hand covers your own abruptly, stopping your exploration, and you pout up at him as he fixes you with a blazing stare.

“if you keep doing that, i’m not going to last,” he says, voice shaking with the weight of his desire.

“fine.”

you huff, pretending at annoyance even as you eagerly lie back and spread your legs for him. you fix him with an expectant look, raising an eyebrow, and he chuckles fondly as he settles himself between your legs once more. you’re not expecting the velvet heat of him dragging against you and you gasp at the sensation, grinding against him as he thrusts shallowly against you.

“are you ready for me, love?” he checks, cradling your face in his hands as his thumb rubs over your jaw.

you turn to press a kiss against his palm, near overwhelmed with your love and affection for this man. “yes,” you say simply, and it’s all the permission he needs as he ducks down to kiss you unhurriedly.

his head catches at your opening on the next thrust, and with the slightest shift of your hips he’s pressing inside of you. the stretch of him burns, pinches, but just as he did with his fingers, he worms his hand between your bodies to drag circles over your clit. you do your best to relax, keeping your eyes fixed on his golden stare as he slides into you, agonisingly slow.

the whole while he keeps up a litany of praise, calling you good and precious and perfect as sweat beads along his forehead. when he’s finally fully sheathed inside you he stills his movements, kisses you hard and wanting as he thumbs at your pearl, and when you’re ready you tilt your hips. the stretch of him burns, still, but in a way that sets your skin alight as you cling to his shoulders.

he moans your name like a prayer, drawing away from you until the tip of his cock catches at your entrance once more, and this time when he sinks back in your eyes roll back into your head. he feels so good, stretching and filling you so completely that you’ve no room to think, to breathe, to do anything but take it as he thrusts into you. he buries his head in your neck, resting on his forearms as he plunges into you again and again and again, and between your own choked breaths and the sounds of skin against skin, you hear him muttering in high valyrian.

“sīr sȳz syt nyke, sīr ȳrda, sīr lōz. vēttan syt nyke. ñuha dārilaros, mirre ñuhon [so good for me, so tight, so wet. made for me. my princess, all mine].”

it drives you wild, his voice and his words and hearing him speak in valyrian combined with the exquisite torture of the slow drag of his cock inside you. it’s too much, not enough, and leaves you with nothing but the need to feel as much of him as you possibly can. your hands drag up and down his back, fingernails leaving raised red lines in their wake as you seek to be as close to him as you can bear.

“more, jace, gods, please, i need—”

he cuts you off with a hard thrust, your breath punching out of your lungs as he starts to drive into you harder and faster. it’s so good, so fucking good, but still not quite enough and you whine, seeking something you’re not sure you know how to verbalise.

“whatever you need, love. i’ll give you whatever you need.”

understanding your need even when you don’t, jacaerys rears up, grips your legs and presses your knees to your chest before bearing down on you. like this he reaches so deep it hurts in the most unbearably, searingly pleasurable way. and it’s perfect, exactly what you needed, feeling him so far inside you that it soothes you and ignites you and makes you ache all at once.

“y’feel so good,” you manage to slur out, head lolling as you lose yourself to the feel of him taking you apart so expertly. “so— fuck— so deep. so good, jace, so good.”

jace groans your name, pounding into you so hard and so deep that it’s unconscionable, has your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips buck up to meet him recklessly. your peak approaches again, searing heat blazing through you as you inch closer to another climax, and all you can do is whine and moan as he fills you over and over again. he starts to lose the thread of his rhythm as you clench around him, valyrian and common tongue mixing senselessly as praise spills from his lips.

“avy jorrāelan [i love you] my perfect girl, gūrogon nyke sīr sȳrī [take me so well], can’t get enough of you, hells, i love you, ao sagon ñuhon [you’re mine], my love, my princess, my queen, ñuha ābrazȳrys [my wife].”

you come so hard you see stars, walls pulsing around jace’s cock as he curses. he thrusts sloppily into you, chasing his own release and dragging out your own as you keen, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. he finds completion with a drawn out noise, seed spilling hot and thick inside of you as he lazily pumps his hips two, three more times before collapsing on top of you.

you press absent kisses to his temple, brushing back the sweat-soaked curls from where they’ve matted on his forehead as he shudders against you. you feel lethargic, body aching in the sweetest of ways as you fight to catch your breath. eventually the heavy weight of jace on top of you becomes uncomfortable and you squirm beneath him in protest. with a sigh he slides himself free of you, rolling over onto his back and wrapping an arm around you to pull you with him so that you sprawl over his chest.

you bury your smile into his neck, satisfaction settling bone-deep as his hand runs up and down your back idly. for long moments the two of simply lie together in the quiet, the only sound the rustling of the sheets and the crackle of the dying fire.

“i’ll speak to my mother and the king on the morrow,” he says into the quiet and you raise your head to look at him. he looks serious, amber eyes contemplative as he peers down at you. “i’ll not let another night pass without you as my betrothed.” he smiles at you then, a little crooked as his eyes crinkle, and without thought you reach up to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“i love you,” you say, eyes shining with mischief. “ñuha valzȳrys [my husband].”

jace swallows your laugh with another kiss, doing a poor job of hiding his own amusement as his smile presses to yours, and as the candles burn down you let all of your worries and doubts fade.

you love him. he loves you.

there’s nothing else that matters.

[applepiewinchesters]

Every Universe (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: This was written while I was slightly intoxicated, I regret nothing though and hope you guys enjoy it. It was proofread but I cannot say there will be no grammatical errors. Regardless, please enjoy!! :) Also, takes place in the Deadpool and Wolverine universe.

Word Count: 4,158 (this bitch is long, for me at least)

Warnings: None really unless you count angst and fluff as well as the mention of butt stuff

Finding out that not falling in love with a man being the sole reason you were sent to the void seemed like a pretty patriarchal reason to essentially be damned but who were you to question the TVA.

The day you were sent to the void you’d seen the news, MULTIPLE CASUALTIES AFTER ATTACK AT XAVIER’S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS, names such as Jean Grey, Marie D’Ancanto, Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, and Logan Howlett were read out by the heartbroken looking anchor.

Being a mutant yourself, the news stung and left a pit of anxiety in your stomach. It was an attack by an anti-mutant terrorist group, if they were bold enough to attack the home of Charles Xavier, why not a shopping mall next, or another school full of mutant and non-mutant children alike.

Only minutes after the newscast on the tragedy started four rectangular, orange portals opened in front of and behind you. Four men dressed in odd looking military uniforms stalked towards you. You didn’t even have time to attempt to fend them off before they grabbed you, holding you down while you attempted to break free but even with your mutation, they were too strong.

All you remembered was one of them placing some weird stick against your stomach and you screamed as you essentially dissolved into nothing.

When you woke you were found by who you now knew as Blade, and were told you were in the Void, where you would stay until you died or were killed by a fellow member of said Void.

You’d been there for a what you thought was probably a few years when a couple of Deadpool and Wolverine variants were found by Laura in an absolutely fucked Honda Odyssey. She brought them there and Gambit and Blade brought them inside and laid them down. They appeared as if they’d just had a horrific fight or the most violent sexual encounter ever.

The Wolverine variant was the first to wake up, quite literally shooting up into a sitting position while breathing heavily. His claws extended quickly from his knuckles, and he made an almost animalistic sound.

“Easy there killer,” you almost teased, holding up your hands, you’d been the one unfortunate enough to be closest to him when he woke up, so his eyes immediately fixed on you.

Several emotions seemed to flash across his face at once, his look of anger changing to one of shock. His claws disappeared just as quickly as they’d appeared just moments ago as you slowly put your hands down, now a little concerned for the man.

“Y/N?”, he asked, his head tilting slightly.

It was your turn to look confused, “Did we know each other?”, you asked.

Sure, you’d heard of Wolverine, of Logan, but you’d never met him personally, you had originally been set to attend Charles Xavier’s school when you were 18 but after an attack on the school the same year your parents had decided against it.

The Logan before you’ s face fell slightly; he seemed almost hurt. It took him a second to respond, “I, uh, I guess not.”

That was when Elektra cut in, explaining to Logan where he was and how she’d found him and Deadpool. While he seemed to only half listen, he got up and found the nearest bottle of Gambit’s booze and started drinking it.

When Deadpool woke up it was a completely different side of weird, you hadn’t had the pleasure of coming across a Deadpool variant, but you’d heard how odd they were, and unfortunately for you, you thought they were exaggerating.

After annoying literally everyone in the room, the Deadpool variant all got you to somehow agree to help him and Wolverine get back to the TVA to save his timeline, as well as a sneak attack on Cassandra Nova. The whole time Logan watched you from the corner of his eye.

He couldn’t completely convince himself it was you. The last time he’d seen you, you were lying dead on the front lawn of the school, killed by a large group of humans, along with almost everyone at the mansion. You were covered in blood and cold by the time he’d gotten there. He’d held onto you until the coroner was nearly begging to take you away.

Logan remembered almost everything about you. Your favorite movie, what food you hated, and even the feel of your hand in his. But when you looked at him with little to no recognition in your eyes, his heart could’ve broken all over again.

You had no idea the conflicting feelings he’d had while you sat only a few feet away. You looked practically the same, maybe older than you were when you’d died in his world, he was older too, maybe you just didn’t want to be with an old man and were pretending not to know him. He was the worst Wolverine after all, he wouldn’t blame you.

But then there were some things you did that reminded him of his version of you, the way your laugh sounded exactly the same, how you sat the same way in your chair, and you even made the same face when you’d taken a drink of Gambit’s whiskey as when you’d sip his occasionally while the two of you sat on the couch in the mansion watching some movie one of the others had put on.

It was you, just, one that apparently hadn’t fallen in love with Logan Howlett. Logan himself couldn’t help but wonder if that had been your reason for being sent here, but thought better of it, deciding he'd probably never have that kind of impact on any kind of world.

After a successful attack on Cassandra and her small army, Deadpool and Wolverine were gone, and you hadn’t expected to ever see them again. Then Cassandra almost destroyed every timeline to exist, and you’d thought for sure those two variants had gotten themselves killed.

But then the TVA came for you and brought you to said Deadpool variants world, which he had successfully and somehow saved with Wolverine’s help. You couldn’t help but notice Logan’s shirt missing this time around. Almost cursing yourself for not trying harder to go to Xavier’s school when you were younger, having a chance to meet your world’s Logan. A man’s abs can do that to a woman.

“Happy to not be in the void and all, but why am I here?”, you asked, eyeing the agents around you and taking in the cracked subway station.

“I thought I’d give a little gift to Wolvie here,” Deadpool replied in an overly enthusiastic manner, throwing an arm around Logan who instantly pushed him away.

“I’m not a gift to give you dumb fuck,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

Deadpool ignored your obvious distain and continued, “Well I figured since he lost you in his world and you never falling in love in your world caused his death that you could stay here with us!”.

Your eyes widened and you had to think about what he’d said for a moment, “I-I got him killed? I got Logan and those other mutants killed?”.

Logan couldn’t focus on the other details once his name left your mouth; he hadn’t heard you say that in almost a decade.

You on the other hand turned to the woman beside you that looked to be in charge.

“Is that the reason I was sent there, because I didn’t fall in love with Logan Howlett and he died because of it?”, you asked, you felt like you could be sick.

The woman sighed, almost regretful, “Yes, it was,” she finally answered you. “Without your help of your mutation those mutants did not survive that attack on the school.”

“Oooooo, trauma plot twist,” Deadpool practically squealed.

“Shut the fuck up!”, you snapped back, making Deadpool whisper a bashful, “Sorry,” and take a step back.

The TVA agents left shortly after, and that was how you found yourself living in a small apartment with Wade, Logan, and the craziest old lady you’d ever met, Blind Al.

Wade and she shared a room as weird as it was, you were given the spare room Blind Al reluctantly let you use, as it was now formerly her grow room, and Logan elected to sleep on the couch.

You settled in somewhat nicely, you still felt awkward in a world that wasn’t yours living with a doofus that you'd grown somewhat fond of and a man you got killed in his other life, but you had new friends, ones that didn’t have a huge chance of dying every day so that was a plus.

Yukio and Ellie had gravitated towards you, you were somewhat close in age, with them being early twenties and you in your somewhat late twenties, they reminded you of your younger sibling’s friends from back home in your previous world.

So, when they invited you to go out a month after you settled in, you couldn’t say no, it would get you out of the house at least, you wouldn’t have to sit and listen to Wade and Logan argue or endure Logan’s kicked puppy look when he thought you weren’t looking.

You felt awful you weren’t the you he thought you were, and you knew it was nothing you could control but after Wade let it slip what had happened to you in Logan’s world you couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if the roles were reversed.

So, to hopefully be able to forget about everything for a few hours you got ready, doing some easy makeup and hair, you put on a cute outfit you’d bought earlier in the week, Yukio had begged you to go shopping after finding out you didn’t own anything for “going out” yet on this world.

You relented and picked out a skirt, top, tights, and boots, it was simple yet cute enough to not be mistaken as any old outfit.

When you’d exited your bedroom in your shared apartment shortly before Yukio and Ellie were due to come get you, Wade looked up from whatever the hell he was doing on his phone, which could be anything from porn to angry birds.

His eyes widened slightly, “Got a date?”, he asked, only slightly feigning shock.

Logan had looked up immediately at the mention of a date, he was sipping a bottle of whiskey at the kitchen table. His eyes traveled over your outfit when he thought you were busy glaring at Wade.

“Not that its your business merc but no, I’m going out with Yukio and Ellie,” you stated, tossing a lip balm you had in your hand to your small purse.

“Girls nightttt,” Wade sang, only making you sigh.

As if a divine intervention interrupted there was a knock on the door and when you opened it you found the two girls standing there waiting.

“Hi Wade!”, Yukio exclaimed waving at him.

Wade leaned back in his seat to look around you at Yukio, “Hi Yukio!”.

“Come on,” you told them, moving to leave but a hand on your shoulder made you turn around. It was Wade.

“Now honey,” he began, “don’t take drinks from strangers, don’t go off alone, and don’t hook up with anyone. You know what they say about beer goggles, you’ll be waking up next to the crypt keeper.”

While you rolled your eyes and pushed Wade’s hand off your shoulder although you knew he really did care. Logan on the other hand clenched his jaw. You weren’t his and he knew that, but Wade’s last comment set his teeth on edge.

“I’m a big girl Wade, but thanks,” you told him, turning around and leaving this time without so much as a glimpse Logan’s way.

When the door shut Wade spoke again, “She’s gonna get picked up by every hottie in the club in that outfit. Did you see her legs Peanut?”.

Wade then almost immediately flinched when he felt glass shatter on the back of his head, the alcohol in the now broken bottle staining the back of his My Little Pony shirt.

He didn’t even have to look back to imagine the look on Logan’s face, “Gotcha,” was all Wade replied, picking out a rather large glass shard from the back of his neck.

…

It was hours later when you were so drunk you couldn’t feel the cold outside, but you sure felt good on the inside. The only bad thing was that the other girls wanted to go to another club, and your social battery was just about gone.

You three stumbled out of the club, Yukio and you giggled at something Ellie had yelled at some perv leering at you when you’d walked out. Stopping the other two from turning the opposite way to another club, you spoke rather loudly despite being out of the crowd and loud music.

“I-I think I’m gonna go home! You girls go!” you told them, making Yukio frown.

“Don’t walk home by yourself, call Wade or something,” Ellie commented.

You nodded thoughtfully before gasping, “I’ll call Logan, Wade is doing butt stuff with Vanessa tonight!”.

Your loud comment sent Yukio into a giggling fit and made a guy near you wince, maybe he’d done butt stuff too.

Ellie only nodded, rolling her eyes as you pulled your phone from your purse, scrolling through the very few numbers you’d had, Wade had gotten both you and Logan phones soon after arriving, claiming he needed to be able to send you both funny videos every day. Which were no doubt ignored by Logan.

Pressing on Logan’s contact, you put the phone up to your ear, listening to it ring only once before the call was answered.

“You alright?”, was the first thing out of Logan’s mouth and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, I’m great!” you replied, “but Ellie doesn’t want me walking home alone and Wade is doing butt stuff so will you come? I’m only a few blocks from home.”

The whole sentence was sort of rushed and you thought maybe Logan hadn’t heard you correctly because the line went silent.

You were about to repeat yourself when Logan stopped you, “I’m coming,” he told you, you could hear him shuffling around and the sound of a door closing, “What’s the name?”.

Despite having been in the club for well over an hour you had to look up and squint at then brightly lit sign, “Uhhhh,” you mumbled into to the phone, before your eyes finally focused, “House of Yes!”.

You could’ve sworn Logan chuckled, “Be there soon,” was all he said before hanging up.

“Escort secured,” you told the two girls, slipping your phone back into your purse. “He’ll be here soon,” you added, attempting to replicate his gravely tone, only succeeding in making yourself cough and sending Yukio into a laughing fit.

It was only 15 minutes of standing around before Logan showed up, you spotted him first, having turned yourself that way to look for him. He was dressed in his usual jeans, button up, and undershirt, along with a leather jacket he’d picked up recently.

He looked good you had to admit, nearly every girl outside, and even some guys turned to look at him when he walked past. He didn’t give them any sort of acknowledgement though, earning some disappointed looks from a few of them when he walked up to you.

What was it Wade said about beer goggles? Logan was hot without alcohol though, so you shook off the thought.

“Ready to go?”, he asked, eyes scanning over you, not to be a perv but to make sure everything was the same as when you left, and it was, save for the way you swayed slightly and the way you smiled at him like you were so happy to see him. He thought he’d never see that again, but he has to remind himself for what felt like that hundredth time that it wasn’t you, not his you at least.

You nodded, turning around to hug both of the girls, telling them to be safe, although you knew Ellie wouldn’t put up with anyone’s shit.

“Bye Y/N! Bye Logan!”, Yukio exclaimed, waving at you both before grabbing Ellie’s hand as they turned the opposite way.

“Alright, come on,” Logan said, taking a step away from you and waiting for you to follow him to keep walking, he made sure to keep you closest to the buildings, it wouldn’t be too great to have you fall in the street in front of a car.

It was silent for a couple minutes, you stumbled every so often and Logan’s hand always shot out, ready to catch you, but you always righted yourself, giggling as you did, and Logan found himself smiling at the sound.

You caught him smiling after a couple times, narrowing your eyes, “What’re you smiling at grumpy?”, you asked, voice anything but angry.

“Grumpy?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, it’s what I call you sometimes in my head, Mr. Grumpy is also a good one,” you told him in a very serious tone.

“Mr. Grumpy,” Logan found himself repeating, only making you laugh, which made you stumble, nearly knocking into someone walking the opposite way of you both. Logan instinctively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from the almost collision and into his side.

You immediately noticed he was warm, you could feel it even with his multiple layers on, it was growing colder now outside as the days went on and you yourself knew without the alcohol, you’d probably be cold but here he was, a personal heater.

“Are you actually just a werewolf?” you asked him, making him stop walking completely and turn towards you, removing his arm from your shoulders, making you pout a bit.

“I am not a werewolf,” he told you seriously.

You groaned, “Okay but you’re really warm, you have claws, you can run on all fours, and you’ve got those little…,” you trailed off, putting your pointer fingers up on each side of your head, attempting to mimic the little swishes his hair made.

Personally, you had no idea if his hair just did that (because he’s a werewolf), or if he styled it that way. You couldn’t decide which option to like more.

When Logan didn’t seem to understand what you’d said, you reached up, lightly running a finger along one of the swoops of his hair. You jumped a bit when his hand caught your wrist as you were pulling your hand back.

There was a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize but it soon disappeared as he let you go, “Sorry,” he quickly said. “Reflex.”

You shrugged, “No harm done,” you told him, and his eyes softened at the way you brushed off his behavior from years of enduring nothing even remotely close to the gentle way you’d just touched him.

Maybe you didn’t think so badly of him. You always seemed so wary, afraid to make him angry, to say something wrong, like he was a ticking time bomb. It put him on edge and made him want to steer clear of you, he didn’t want to scare you off either.  But now, standing there staring at you while you just smiled at him made him relax a bit.

“Let’s go,” you suddenly said, beginning to walk away from him. He was back at your side in moments, and you found yourself bumping into him every so often, apologizing every time you did.

Finally, he wrapped an arm around you again, pulling you back into the warmth of his side. You smiled when he did, stumbling slightly but he held you up easily, not letting you fall.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you told him when you were only a block from home.

“No problem,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk ahead.

There were a few moments of silence before you began to giggle suddenly, Logan’s brow furrowed as he looked down at you, “What?” he asked, hopefully not regretting asking.

“So, you’re not a werewolf?” you asked, looking up at him.

Logan groaned looking away from you, “No, and if you keep asking, you’ll regret it.”

“Ooo what are you gonna do?” you mocked, poking his side.

“Wouldn’t you like to know sweetheart,” he replied, making you stumble at the nickname.

“I would,” you challenged, after righting yourself with the help of Logan’s arm around you.

Logan regarded you for a moment before shaking his head, “You’re drunk, another time.”

“Ughhhhh,” you groaned, “Tell me!”.

“Not a chance,” Logan replied, smirking a bit. He’d been drinking since you left and was buzzed himself, he couldn’t help but smile at your behavior.

The you he’d known had always acted like this, at least when intoxicated. You were whiny, clumsy, and clingy. The way your fingers gripped the back of his jacket to stay up right made his heart ache though and his smile fell.

You noticed his attitude change and became concerned, “You okay?” you asked, attempting to stop walking, but Logan kept you going.

“Fine” he replied, his hold on you loosening slightly, you couldn’t help but notice.

So, you stopped, much to Logan’s dismay, moving to stand in front of him, swaying slightly as you very determinedly looked him in the eye.

“What’s wrong, did I do something?” you asked, genuine concern in your voice, he could almost feel his heart crack just slightly.

“No, it’s…,” Logan began, his tongue getting tied, he was never great at emotions, that’s why he drank so much. You didn’t have to feel anything then.

“I’m listening,” you reassured, resisting the urge to take his hand.

“You’re so much like…like her, like you,” Logan finally said, not really meeting your eye. “I thought I could ignore it, but I can’t, you even smell the same.”

Logan had rendered you with nothing to say, could you truly comfort him? Reassure him? You felt yourself sobering up a bit at the thought.

It was a few moments of silence before you found your words, “I know this has been shitty for you too, and I'm sorry I haven't been a better friend. Honestly sometimes I think you hate the fact that I'm not her, me her, whatever...that you hate me. But then you do things like this and it makes me think otherwise. I guess I just don't know how to...approach you, Logan."

Logan felt his heart drop at the word “friend”, and the thought he made you feel inadequate. God he really was stupid enough to think he might have a chance with this version of you.

But he found himself lifting a hand to your cheek, feeling your skin heat up beneath his fingers, “I could never hate you, not in this universe, not in any, got it? Its my fault, for pushing that onto you, making you feel like you have to be someone you’re not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly, “We’re both just fucked up in our own special way, aren’t we?”.

Logan nodded, dropping his hand, but you caught it in your own, “It’s not your fault either you know, I personally blame whatever bitchass overlord of the universe did this.”

Logan had to keep himself from solely focusing on the way your hand wrapped around his, “But…,” he went to argue.

You put up a hand to stop him, “Enough with the self-pity Howlett, its unbecoming of a man of your nature.”

“My nature?” Logan asked, titling his head at you.

“Yes, the nature of being absurdly attractive,” you admitted, looking away from him as you spoke, attempting to walk away, but he pulled you back, almost into his chest, but he kept you a few inches away, still concerned with scaring you.

“Absurdly?” Logan asked, the smirk returning to his face.

You swallowed hard, “Did I say that? I meant unappealing, completely unsightly.”

Your attempt at saving your future sober self from your drunk self was failing miserably, but Logan gave in after a few seconds, shrugging as he turned, placing his arm around you once more, guiding you towards the apartment building you could finally see in the distance.

“Whatever you say kid,” he told you.

This was the most at home you two had felt in a while, and when you sat next to each other at breakfast in the morning, Logan passing you whatever you needed when you’d asked, Wade gasped dramatically.

“Did you two also engage in butt stuff last night, or is that not your cup of whiskey Wolvie?” Wade asked.

This earned him a fork to the forehead, easily tossed across the table by Logan.

The way you laughed made Logan’s heart skip a beat instead of crack again. For the first time in quite a while he felt hope, and if being here with you meant putting up with Wade’s dumbass mouth, he could make an exception just this once.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I felt like Tumblr was seriously lacking in Logan fluff so here ya go!

[pseudowho]

Deliverance

Hunting down a monster, you are led to an isolated little town...and into the arms of its enigmatic priest, who harbours a dark secret.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Vampire!Priest!Nanami, monsterfucking, winged vampire, soft!Dom/pleasure!Dom Nanami, loss of faith/disillusionment, enemies to lovers/forbidden lovers, haematophilia, corruption kink

Very much inspired by Mike Flanagan's exceptional "Midnight Mass" which I highly recommend.

Soundtrack: "Take Me To Church" by Hozier, and "All Around Me" by Flyleaf

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The bridge to the mainland lived most of its saltcured life underwater. It rose, skeletal against the fog, as if the wreck of a ship from some bygone era, only twice a day, at low tide.

You were, by now, well-established into this friendly little town; a much-needed teacher to its handful of muddy-toed children. They did now know of your armory, your deadly weaponry. They did not know of your vow to hunt down the monsters that stalked the night.

And, they did not know how you suspected that the beast responsible for the deaths of at least 20 men on the mainland, may be one of their very own. 20 murders all occurring at low-tide, and only low-tide, could not be a coincidence.

They were all scum, you mused to yourself, all rapists, paedophiles and murderers...so perhaps it does have some sort of moral code. It must be here, you reasoned, fingers tapping the woody shelves of your little school cupboard in thought.

Your hunt was hampered by the timekeeping of this sleepy fishing town; often up before sunrise to take to the sea, and back before the sun broke above the horizon, it was not unusual for its residents to sleep during the day, and rise in time for the sunset. Its little church even held an evening mass, attended by plentiful nocturnal residents, after dinner.

"Hello?" A rich baritone, which was beginning to feel so intimately familiar to you, stirred an illicit want in your belly. He called your name. You could not help but run to him.

"--sorry, I'm-- I'm here! In the cupboard!" You called out, breathless in...what? Your rush to get to him? Anticipation? Something...more?

You flurried round the corner, all eager smiles, flyaway hairs and dimples. Your eyes melted so softly upon each others' forms, both sighing with relief. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.

"Ke--...Father Nanami. What a lovely surprise. You're not usually up so early."

Nanami Kento cut an imposing figure in his cassock and white collar. He was a big man, with mountainous shoulders, and long, broad hands. You remembered the heat that pooled in your belly, the first time he had rolled up his sleeves to help you to move supplies into the schoolhouse, his forearms so alluringly thick and corded. His size belied an easy grace, and the elegant quick-step of a busy, intelligent man.

"I found myself unable to sleep," Kento admitted, his head bowed and hands clasped as he stepped to you. He seemed paler than usual, as he continued, "I was thinking abo--...just, thinking." He finished weakly. His eyes drew so fleetingly to your fast little pulse, thrumming from your throat, down your cleavage. His mouth dried, a double-edged hunger climbing down his abdomen.

"...thinking?" You offered, slowly closing the distance between you. You ached to remove it completely, your respect for his holy vows the only thing that contained you. Kento cleared his throat, running one strong finger between his neck, and corseting black and white collar.

"...wondering. If you would be attending mass. Tonight. I have miss--...you have missed the past week, I believe."

Ah. Yes. There was rarely another time when the homes of the local residents were empty enough to allow for investigation. You had only a few more to ransack, to find your monster, and you could feel yourself closing in on it. You felt a heavy rock of regret in your belly, and you clasped one of Kento's cool, pale hands in your own. His cock twitched, to feel the burn of your flesh against his, in ways so much less intimate than what he had imagined, alone at night.

"I'm so sorry...not tonight," you frowned, and you hurried to reassure Kento as he visibly deflated, "But tomorrow, I promise you. I'll come. Truly." Kento's face, so angular and strong, softened down at you with the hint of a smile.

His hand raised up for a moment, hesitating, before cupping your cheek. You felt your heart skip a beat, the tips of his little and ring fingers ghosting over your pulse point, while his thumb swiped beneath your eye.

"...chalk," Kento whispered, seeing your pupils dilate under his inherent, dangerous magnetism. He wished nothing more than to lean down and taste you, clutched against him and whimpering in the schoolhouse. You heard thunder rumble in the distance, and smelled the petrichor of an oncoming storm.

"...I can't wait," Kento whispered, stepping back from you, with just one backwards glance before sweeping out under the wind and blotting clouds.

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Your hunt had amounted to nothing. Either, your monster was meticulously careful, or your suspicions were incorrect, and it did not reside on this island. There was just one more place you had not explored, and you resigned yourself that you may be heading home sooner than you thought.

And yet, you felt a rope behind your navel, a red string around your finger, holding you here. You decided to complete your final investigation at the home of the priest, who had become the lifeblood that ran inside you, at midnight. He generally stayed late at the church, completing administration. You would be undisturbed.

Armed, rogue-like, you blended with moonlit shadows until you reached the windows outside his bedroom. You peeked through the gaps in the wooden blinds, and were met with an image of Kento, erotic and resplendent, that seared itself into your brain for the rest of your days.

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Kento didn't need sleep, ever since his God had forsaken him. Yet still, he craved that sweet embrace, to take him away from the twisted torture of what he had become. His resolve to die this way, as some fallen angel, had been unexpectedly fractured by the will to live-- fractured by you.

Kento switched the shower off, the last droplets of water running down his back. His cassock and collar were discarded, all woven lies against the skin of a faithless hypocrite. Kento wrapped a towel loosely around his waist, stepped past the empty mirror, and out into his bedroom.

His gut churned to see his empty bed. It had been weeks since he had fed. Years since he had taken a woman for the last time, before taking his vows. Weeks, since you had begun to consume him, mind, body and soul.

Kento had been losing his faith before the change. He had grown further from God, as countless monsters died beneath his teeth. But it was thoughts of you, spread, penetrated and whimpering beneath him, that took Kento beyond redemption.

Kento shuddered at the aching greed within. He lay back on his bed, hair still damp and floppy, but desperate for sleep to grip him and pull him under. His cock, rapidly thickening and tenting beneath the towel, made him curse, one broad arm flung over his eyes, while the other tried to squeeze himself into submission.

Kento squirmed with guilt, his semi-erect cock gripped in his palm. He thought of you, your fingers dipping into your needy wet cunt, the vibrator on your clit doing nothing to relieve the ache in your soul. He thought of the way you had squirmed and begged, to your god, and to him, to be granted your release. He thought of the way you had sobbed as you came, curled round yourself, your fingers desperately trying to reach the sweet spot that would make your orgasm climb all the way into your belly.

He didn't need to imagine it, Kento thought blithely, his thumb now stroking slick pre-cum under his foreskin, and over the sweet swollen head of his cock. He didn't need to imagine it, because he had seen you, through the gap in your curtains in the dead of night. Watching you, a pale angel in the rain, hunting for the forgiveness of a body he couldn't allow himself to sully.

Kento's hand had begun to masturbate himself instinctually, to the thought of you crying out for him. For him, and he could do nothing but pretend he hadn't seen you fall apart, to the dream of him inside you.

Kento groaned, low and rumbling, his hand gripping tightly around his throbbing, heavy length, longer than his thick fist could cover. Dripping with pre-cum, Kento began to fuck into his own fist to lubricate himself. He moaned in time to the memory of you, writhing and mewling against your pillow.

Kento's other arm reached round above his head, and he sunk his sharp teeth into his pillow, licking at it, imitating how he would flick his tongue against your pert little clit with a ragged moan. He pictured you above him, riding his mouth and nose as the length of his cock fucked down your throat to the tune of sweet wet gags. Kento whispered filth into the dead of night, trying to rut himself to orgasm.

"--take it-- good girl...cum down your throat-- cum in my mouth...shit...fuck you through it soon, angel-- promise, I promise--...ahhhh, shit, SHIT--"

Kento cursed, spitting venom, his balls heavy and sore, his own hand so woefully inadequate. His canines had lengthened, his mouth twisted into a teeth-baring snarl, and he gripped his cock harder. Trailing his other fingers to his mouth, sucking on his fingertips with a shiver, Kento pierced them until he could taste the hot rush of blood, imagining it was you quenching his thirst--

At the window, completely unnoticed, you gripped the windowpane, weak-kneed. Your other hand clapped over your mouth. Kento lay naked on his bed, sprawled and ethereal under strips of moonlight, masturbating with gasps and groans that you only wished you could hear.

Those hands, that you had spent night after night, wishing were inside you. That cock, thicker and longer than you had pictured...and oh. The way he rutted into his fist with such devastating ferocity, left you jealous of his hand. Your mouth watered.

What would he do, if you knocked right now? If you offered yourself to him, spread bare and pleading? Would he forsake his vows for you? Would he turn his back to God, as he stroked his cockhead to orgasm between your wet folds, singing your praises, and spattering hot, thick cum over your clit--

You were drawn back out of your head as Kento convulsed, his anguished, sloppy moan breaking through the windows, shooting through you like a knife. You gasped, delighted by Kento's twitching pleasure.

Kento hit his orgasm with the turmoiled strength of a stormfront, breaking. His final image was of you, cradling his sore cock between your legs, humping him inside you while you whispered to him and he whined into your hair and got lost in the smell of you, god, the smell of you, he could smell you now--

Kento spasmed, crying out as cum spurted in heavy stripes up his abdomen, his orgasm threaded with a tinge of horror-- fuck, he could smell you, you were here nearby, he knew the smell of that skin and that blood and that cunt--

Kento sat up with a jolt and a snarl, still gasping, the power of the hunt crashing through him. His teeth bared, animalistic, he wrenched his window up, sticking his head out into the night.

The smell of you, quickly fading, was being carried away by the wind. And Nanami Kento was losing his mind.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You could barely compose yourself, walking into Church the next evening. The night had crept in fast; another storm churning over the water, was pulling the moon in with it. You felt overburdened with...guilt? Desire? You could not hide it, you were sure.

You could not hide it, as Kento's rich voice embraced the pews. You could not hide it, as your voice trembled its way through hymns. Kento's stern, impassive face remained unreadable, as you took communion from him. You met each others' eyes, both thinking about the same thing; his finger grazed your tongue, and gazed upon your sweet face, open-mouthed and doe-eyed, kneeling before him.

And despite all this, it was each others' company you craved more than anything more carnal. You found excuses to stay, in the church, loitering as Kento bid the crowds a warm goodbye. As the last person left, finally alone, you turned to each other. You both held your breath.

After a few moments, yours released in a twinkling laugh, and a blush, that had Kento's chest clenching in possessive adoration.

"I...have neglected you, father," you offered, brushing your hair behind your ear. Kento huffed, at first, pinching the bridge of his nose, before laughing. A genuine laugh. Deep, velvety, and rich. You were putty in his hands, and he didn't even know.

"Alas...it is the life of the clergy. Our own needs, go...unmet." Kento grimaced, a forced half-smile. His hands clasped over his lap.

You felt the tinge of bitterness at the edge of his words. You swallowed, thickly. Your fate balanced on the edge of a knife.

"Not...not all of them, surely? You could...you could join me for dinner?" You couldn't miss how Kento's eyebrows raised fractionally, his pupils dilating. Kento felt a dangerous hunger.

"I...I'm not sure-- I shouldn't--"

"Of course, you're completely right--" you flapped, taking a step back, and Kento's hunger gripped you back with jealous need.

"...I shouldn't be long here. An hour, maybe? If...if you'll allow it." Kento could feel himself twist under the need to possess you, one way or another. Judging by the smell of you, you would be wet, supple under his lips.

"Perfect," you blurted, standing up on your tiptoes for one happy moment, "perfect. I'll cook. We can...we can talk. I can't wait."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

A brisk knock. You hurried to the door, biting your lip, briefly abandoning dinner on the stove.

"Father," you cried, damning yourself for sounding so excited, "you're here...I'm glad. I was afraid you wouldn't...anyway..."

You hurried back to the stove, leaving the door open. After a moment, you looked up, seeing Kento leaning against the doorframe, looking at with with something...unreadable, in his eyes. He simply stood, drinking you in as you cooked.

"...Father? What are you waiting out there for? Come in." Blinking, chuckling to himself, Kento stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him and gently placing a bottle of wine on the table.

"Please. Call me Kento. It seems...silly, if we're having dinner, and a night together." You felt heat blossom through you, at the accidental double-meaning behind Kento's words.

Dinner together was soft, intimate, the food and wine smoothing over an already glossy conversation. You were made malleable by the wine. You were intoxicated by him. Kento looked into you with such knowledge of you, that you were laid bare beneath his gaze.

Sat facing each other on the sofa, Kento had abandoned his white collar, the buttons of his cassock and white shirt undone to his chest. He rolled wine around his glass, his head leaning on one hand, smiling as you talked. The wine made you stupid, and you blurted out;

"Why? Why...did you join the church, Kento?" It was, in part, rhetorical. A cry of despair against the crime of Kento being made untouchable. His answer surprised you, and you found yourself shuffling closer as he talked.

"I ask myself that same question every day. Ever since..." Kento bit his tongue, thinking of the night he was turned, on a missionary trip abroad. Thinking about the day you walked into his parish, setting him aflame with unquenchable burning thirst. Kento cleared his throat, swirling his wine. He felt his primal magnetism drawing you to him like a moth to the flame, and he could not stop himself.

"...I have become...disillusioned, with the church. I am...torn," Kento admitted. Your knees were touching his now, and you leaned towards him with lovesick eyes. Kento felt the thrill of the hunt, feeling the sting of his teeth lengthening. His cock twitched as your breath passed over his cheek.

"...torn?" You felt a quiver of fear now, in the way Kento's eyes darkened, his hand slipping over to grip behind your knee, pulling him into his lap. He set aside his glass. It should have rung alarm bells. You were so drunk, but you had only had one glass of wine. Kento smelled so intoxicating. You were warm, floppy as he pulled you to straddle his lap, cupping your face with both hands.

"...torn," he whispered, his nose brushing yours. Kento's hunger overtook his panic for you, a victim to himself. Kento whispered against your lips, watching your eyes flutter closed, your head heavy and lilting to the side, exposing the pretty thrum of your throat to him.

"...torn," he continued, gliding his tongue up the pulse in your neck, feeling his cock jump against your clothed pussy, "...all because of you...if God has forsaken me, I hope he never wants me back. If only you would let me worship you, instead."

Kento's lips hovered over yours, barely quelling his urgent need to feed on you, until you whimpered his name. Kento snapped, and pulled you in by the back of the neck, crashing his lips to yours with the ragged groan of a starving man.

Your head swam with Kento, clutching his open collar and falling against him, allowing him to devour your mouth with bliss. You murmured against his lips, sloppy and licking, tasting the sweet allure of him, and his grip on the back of your neck grew crushing, his weight now bearing over you to press you back into the sofa, a sharp sting on your lip--

"Ow! I...ugh, sorry...I'm bleeding--"

As you moved to sit up, shocked back out of your reverie, Kento had pushed himself back to the other side of your sofa. One hand had clasped over his mouth. He trembled, and shook, white-knuckles clasping the sofa. You heard a sharp gasp, as if Kento was in pain.

With blood on your lip, you reached for him-- and stopped. Your eyes fixed on the switched-off television opposite you both. You stood, slowly, moving towards the hallway, and your bag, trying to control your terrified little heart.

"I'll just...get a cloth, for my li--"

As you pulled a blade from your bag, standing up to spin around, you were thrown back to the wall, your head cushioned by Kento's hand. You cried out, feeling him bracket you against the wall, his cassock now abandoned, his form seeming to grow and swell before you. Kento's face pressed to your neck, and you felt the hot throb of his growing cock against your belly.

You stood this way, both panting into each other, your knife pressed over Kento's heart, and his teeth pressed to your throat. Your heart broke, fragile beneath Kento's twisting form, and hungry mouth. You hiccuped, your hand and resolve faltering.

"...I never wanted...I wish it wasn't...why did it have to be you?" You sobbed, your arm starting to lower. Kento growled against you, already two feet taller, his enormous chest trapping you in against the wall. You felt the lights blotting out around you, as vast, black, velvety wings unfurled from Kento's back.

"...always...you always knew...just couldn't accept--" Kento gasped, his tongue darting out against your neck, ridged and trembling. His chest burst with pain to feel you sob beneath him.

"I can't do it," you cried, your knife hand lowering again, "just take what you want, because I can't-- I love you-- I'm not strong enough." Kento's teeth gritted, his face crumpling against the soft copper scent of your skin. His enormous hand gripped yours, raising the knife to press to his chest. You gasped and cried out, resisting his pull; a bead of blood sprung up around the tip, pressed to Kento's chest.

"From the moment you arrived," Kento growled, his teeth pressing gently over your pulse point, starving and needy, "...my life...everything I am, has been yours to take. I would know you, blind and deaf...and I would be honoured, for you to take my life as penance for my sins."

You gritted your teeth, completely releasing your grip on the blade. It clattered to the floor. You reached up to trail hands up Kento's enormous, powerful shoulders. Your fingertips grazed the soft base of his wings, and Kento shivered, shuddering into you. He felt a dribble of pre-cum soak his stretched, ripping boxers.

"Then I condemn you to live, Kento," you whispered, pulling his face up to yours. His pupils were dilated, bursting with lust, inky black in pools of crimson, "...and take me. However you want me."

Kento snarled at you again, pressing himself to you, pinning your arms above your head with one thick hand; "You have no idea what you're asking for," he hissed, "I will eat you alive." He felt you tremble, seeing the golden resolve in your eyes. You leaned forwards to his mouth, begging.

"Then eat me...or fuck me, like you fucked your hand to me."

Kento cursed, snapping, lifting you against him. You wrapped your legs around his hips, feeling Kento reach down to shred the clothes off himself, completely absorbed by the need to possess you, to love you.

Flung backwards onto the bed, you gasped at Kento's monstrous form. Eight feet tall, broad and exquisite, his great black wings folded and unfolded against his back. His aching cock dripped with pre-cum, so much bigger than when you had seen him cum into his own hand. His face, still undeniably Kento, stared into you, owning you. Heat pooled between your legs, as he grasped his cock in one great hand, groaning and shuddering.

You crept forwards, still drunk on him, and his nephilim glory. Kento's hand stuttered around his cock as you licked the tip.

"--fuck-- too big for you-- you can't--" Kento uttered a strangled moan, to feel your hot little mouth engulf his cockhead, your lips stretched wide, gulping him to the back of your throat, all hot little licks and sucks. Every fibre of his being needed to buck forwards into your mouth, and you felt two great hands tangle in your hair.

When your hands joined your mouth, stroking down his aching length, masturbating the parts of his cock your mouth could not reach, Kento rutted involuntarily. Moaning, begging and whining your name, his voice ran deep and ragged around his sharp canines.

"--darling, I-- shit I-- so good...so good for me...taking me s--so well, haaaaah...not-- can't last-- like this--"

You hummed around his cock, swallowing down a trickle of salty pre-cum, feeling the gentle pressure of his fingertips against your head. So aware of his size and strength, Kento handled you like a china doll, with the utmost love and affection. Kento moaned with abandon, his head thrown back, his great wings furling and unfurling with divine pleasure.

Swallowing around Kento's thick tip at the back of your throat, you felt his cock leaping in warning. Kento tried half-heartedly to pull you off him, whimpering and moaning with fractured cries of your name;

"--can't swallow-- s'too much-- ohhh fuck, my love-- c-cumming, I'm cumming-- fffuuuck yes, swallow-- all of it--"

You squeaked as his cock jolted and twitched in your mouth, Kento's balls clenched tight as he hunched around your mouth, pressing your head to him. Your mouth and throat flooded with Kento's bitter seed, cooler than that of a normal man, and you swallowed him down with pride. Kento's groans and breaths ran ragged, as you licked him clean.

Kento panted, glossy-eyed as he came down from his high, his cock still half-hard against his thigh. Crowding your body against the bed with his, his fingertips grazed the dress you wore, before ripping it from you with a bared-teeth growl. You felt your bra snapped in the middle, as if it were paper. Your breasts heaved, nipples peaked under Kento's ravenous attention.

Poking his tongue out to tease it over one hard nipple, you felt your clit throb to feel the otherworldly ridges and grooves running along his tongue's sides and tip. Whining as he sucked your pebbled nipple into his mouth, you shuddered to feel Kento's sharp teeth graze your sensitive peak. He savoured you, lathering your nipple against his tongue, until you felt you could cum from that alone.

His other hand rose to engulf your second breast, your nipple rolled so tenderly between two great fingers. You felt a trickle of arousal soak your underwear. Kento could smell it, and pressed his hand to your lower belly, feeling vaguely for the telltale swell of ovulation.

"...made a mistake, angel...letting me take you like this-- nothing of you left, by the time I'm done with you--mine-- all mine-- fuck--"

Trailing kisses down your belly, sniffing you and eager to fill you with his smell, his body thrummed for you. Kento threw your legs over his shoulders, ripping the sides of your underwear and tossing the scraps aside.

His eyes fixed on your pussy, slick and clenching. Kento shuddered, feeling his cock beginning to bound to life again. It flopped, heavy and twitching against his thigh, filling again in preparation to fill you. Kento felt a vague desire to ensnare you, trapping you inside his drunken intoxication, to fill you, and fill you, and fill you, until your belly swelled, oozing his thick, white seed.

"...Kento...please..." Your sweet begging pulled Kento out of himself. Despite his monstrous form, his face softened, his eyes fixed to yours as his tongue, long and ridged, stretched out of his mouth. You saw stars as it lathed insistently from side to side, spreading your folds, stroking back and forth over your aching, pearly clit.

Kento mumbled into your pussy, tasting you, his long tongue fucking into your cunt while his nose nuzzled your clit. Mewling, your hands flew down to sink into Kento's hair, and you felt your hands grasped and pinned against your belly. Kento knew, with a faint pang, that if your fingernails scratched against his sensitive scalp, he would surely spill his seed all over your floor.

Kento draped his other forearm over your belly and hips, pinning you down as you twisted beneath his attention. He lapped, sucked, and nipped at you with the softest bites to your clit, his tongue fucking in and out of you with inhuman dexterity.

You bucked your hips down the bed, eager to feel his tongue sink into your deepest parts, and Kento obliged with a wet moan. You felt his tongue lathe against your spongy spot, pinned down as he devoured you.

"--just there...harder please, please-- god I need your cock in me, please-- fuck me please-- please--"

You begged and pleaded your way to orgasm, your arousal seeping out around Kento's tongue as you came with a jolt and a cry, your thighs clamping around Kento's head, feet tickling against his sensitive wings. Kento continued to fuck his tongue in and out of you, lathering you with his spit, tasting your arousal, desperate to taste more of you.

You reached down, trying to pull Kento up your body. He almost laughed at your casual management of a true to life vampire, about to fuck you into the mattress. Kento allowed it, settling above you, his pupils narrowing at the insistent beat of your throat. Suddenly, and with a strangled growl, Kento knocked your head aside, his teeth grazing at your throat, and his monstrous cock throbbing at your entrance.

You trembled beneath him, heaving and gasping from your high. All of your resolve left you, beneath his tongue, and you uttered words you knew to be true;

"...I trust you, Kento."

Kento pressed into you, with teeth and cock and a husky moan. You felt a sharp pierce at your neck, his teeth just deep enough to feel the hot splash of your blood against his tongue. Kento almost finished then and there, his seed threatening to spatter into your folds and entrance, instead of in your belly, as he had promised himself. Kento drank you, his mouth clamped around your neck, one great hand cupping your head to the side while the other gripped your hip.

With a squeak and a protracted, broken moan of his name, you felt Kento's cock stretch through your wet velvety walls. You squirmed, trying to climb up the bed, feeling Kento growl around your throat and yank you back down.

Kento was enormous, by far the biggest cock you had ever taken, splitting you with a dull sting. Your fluttering hole soothed as Kento began to rut his length into you. His red, leaking tip bullied your cervix, bumping it up against your womb, with inches of him still outside of you.

You uttered strangled little moans, completely pinned beneath his hulking form, feeling him rut as much of his cock inside you as he could fit. With a shiver, Kento denied himself of any more blood at your throat. His tongue stroked your wounds, clotting the blood there, as he fucked gently into you.

Kento's wings caged you both in, and he stared down at where his cock tried to stretch your pussy out with dopey, lovesick eyes. A trickle of your blood ran down from the corner of his mouth, and he was struck with a sudden burst of pride for you. Kneeling back, Kento pushed your knees up to your chest, crushing over you in a mating press.

You writhed, as Kento managed to sink more of his cock into you, groaning which each stroke he watched enter and pull out of you. Your slick formed a translucent white ring most of the way down his cock length. Kento was eager to see it drip down his balls. He gasped down at your prone, fucked-out form, and gently began to press and roll the fatty flesh around your clit, making you buck up into him with pathetic little mewls.

"--fit it in--fit all of me in...if you cum again-- fuck you through it, baby...fuck you through it...fuck you through it..."

Kento repeated this like a mantra, every gradually strengthening thrust into you taking him deeper, your pussy stretched to its limits around his terrifying girth and length. Leaning over where you joined, Kento spat a smooth mouthful of spit, stroking it around his base, lubricating you both, before upping his pace and intensity again.

You cried out, head thrown back as you arched, feeling Kento so deeply that you clasped your belly. Kento planted one hand over yours, his fucks growing gradually more feral as he bared his teeth, determined to finally take what was his, after so many years of miserable self-denial.

"--mine make you mine make you mine--leave it behind...leave it all...for you...shit-- so tight, just--milk it out-- all my cum-- all yours, I swear..."

As you came, your pussy clenching and spasming, Kento finally bottomed out. His head flung back with a cry of success, slamming into you with abandon as he chased his high, desperate to see you filled with his cum. Cursing, and spitting, teeth bared and blacking out the room around you with his wings, Kento came with a roar, and you felt your pussy and belly flooded by him.

His cock jerked long, protracted twitches inside you, spurting thick bursts of cum, with nowhere to go but up, plugged by his enormous girth. You were pliable and dazed, taking it with the sweet relief of his love for you, his seed soothing your swollen inner walls like a balm.

Kento faltered above you, staggered and dazed. Keeping his cock stuffed inside you, manoeuvring himself onto his side, he swept one great wing beneath you, and one above you. You felt yourself cocooned, sleepy and full, reaching into hand up to tangle into Kento's hair. He pressed a lazy kiss to your palm.

"...you're a...terrible vampire hunter..." Kento slurred, fading out into soft snores, just seconds later.

He's not wrong, you reasoned to yourself, wondering and drifting to sleep in his arms and wings, maybe he'll help me.

[aajjks]

Desperado (m)

synopsis. There was no time for intimacy and jungkook learned the hard way.

warnings: MÄTÜRE THÈMÈS. YÄNDÊRÊ, DÄRK, mêntǐöns öf prẽgnâncy, mêntǐöns öf älmöst dy-ng dürïng chïldbïrth, obsěssïvè bëhävïöür, pössessïvênêss, jk ïs cräy cräy, cryïng, smüt (förëpläy), kïssïng, lüsty jk, he ïs jǔst hörny änd w-nts tö fück lmäo

note. I understand that this kind of a topic can be a sensitive topic for many of us, pregnancy is not something everyone is comfy reading about so viewer discretion is advised!

He never wanted you to get pregnant.

This was not supposed to happen,

Jungkook couldn’t help but glare at the tiny little sleeping human in the white crib as he sat right infront of it.

The baby’s chubby cheeks huffed as he took little breaths, a little hue of pink sprinkled over them.

how could he sleep so peacefully after ruining Jungkook’s life! Jungkook bit the inside of his cheeks in jealousy.

This tiny little brat has already taken you away from him. You were Jungkook’s only happiness but now ever since you gave birth, you are obsessed with this little devil.

You have forgotten about Jungkook completely. He who was the reason you got pregnant in the first place!

Jungkook regretted doing that… why can’t he ever control his lust when it comes to you, and now his lust was the result of the baby who was sleeping so peacefully right infront of him.

And now, here he is after so many sleepless nights to watch over the baby while you were busy showering. You are really paranoid and possessive when it comes to the child and it’s safety.

And you have made jungkook promised that he’s going to watch over the baby while you tend to your business.

Jungkook’s head hurts so much. When was the last time you guys had sex? He can’t even remember. It’s all gone now.

You have been snatched away from him and he can’t do anything! Jungkook will never understand why you wanted to have this baby anyways?!? You guys together were already perfect.

And not to forget that you both are still so young, and there was no need to hurry.

This child is a devil and you fail to see that! Having this baby almost killed you, your fragile self was not ready for it, Jungkook hated him so much, so fucking much.

But you have always so stubborn.

Your maternal side was something that Jungkook used to adore, because you were always so loving and caring towards him.

But now? Now that you were an actual mother, you completely neglect your boyfriend. Jungkook huffs in annoyance as the thoughts run through his mind.

You always wanted to become a mom.

His glare never left the baby who was soundly asleep, it was unfair that how much he looked like Jungkook, anyone could tell that that was his son.

It was undeniable. The baby even stole his face!

Jungkook hates his child so much!

Jungkook hated children, he always despised the idea of someone else coming in between you, you were always supposed to be his and only his!

Jungkook is a needy person and he knows that… he needs your love and attention like a little child, he is addicted to you, and now that his addiction isn’t being satisfied.

He is starting to lose his sanity.

“Y/N…” Jungkook whines into your warmth as he feels your fingers scratch his head, his warm breath hitting your tummy as his hands grabs wrap around it, his legs are resting onto yours as the man is on top you, laying so peacefully and your scent is calming his mind and your touch feels so good, His eyes are closed as he snuggles deeper and deeper into you.

Your hair is still wet, and you smell so fresh.

God… you smell so good, how much he’s missed this… you.

“Y/N…. I miss you so much..” You hear Jungkook speak in a broken tone, like he is so tired. “You don’t pay me any attention anymore, you don’t care for me anymore…” he cries, his head shaking to the sides, as he lifts his face up from your belly. “I need you so much… you don’t even make love to me anymore!”

He whines again, complaining as he looks into your eyes while you look at him with confusion, Jungkook stares at your face, he notices the tiredness, your eyes are absolutely tired, dark circles present. “Please love me too! You only care about him!” He groans as he nuzzles his face in your neck.

It tickles because hes breathing so heavily.

“When was the last time you touched me, do you even remember Y/N? Fuck… I ache for your touch on my body… please.” He could barely whisper, but his tone changes to a seductive one as he presses light butterfly kisses on your neck. You close your eyes as your heart clenches in guilt when you hear the desperation in his voice.

Even though he’s complaining most of the time, but he’s not completely wrong.

It is true that you have been neglecting him, heck, you love your baby so much that you have forgotten about Jungkook.

“I’m sorry baby… you are right… I’m sorry… but I’ve been so tired ever since… Ji-Hwan came into our lives… I’ve been super focused on him- “B-But what about me yn?” he cut you off, eyebrows furrowing as he removes his head from your neck, and he is glaring at you, “I should be your first priority!” Jungkook harshly says but when he sees you getting shocked at his sudden change in demeanor.

And now he feels guilty.

so his eyes soften, and he apologizes,

“But I can’t really blame you because you are so tired… please, let me make you feel good… you look like you need it.” Jungkook gets up from your body and takes your hand and guides it towards his crotch.

You gasp as you feel it.

“See? I’ve been so needy for you that your touch got me all hard… please kiss me, can I have a kiss now? Baby don’t you think that I deserve it?” Jungkook’s eyes are dark, hey bites his lower lip, eyes filled with lust, as he leans close to your face stopping his rambling.

He looks at your body, and he notices the dress that you’re wearing. It’s cruel how much you look good in that dress, it’s so simple yet so sexy.

Your lips were only a centimetre apart, until Jungkook connected them together, your lips immediately melt into his.

Jungkook doesn’t waste a second to take your breath away by sliding his tongue inside your mouth, exploring it, his tongue hitting every corner of your mouth.

His hands grab onto your breasts as he squeezes them, moaning into your mouth, his kiss only gets more feverish as he starts to grind close to your heat.

You moan lightly at the fraction, as he presses his lips to yours harder, moaning again.

“F-Fuck… you feel so good baby… need you now..” he cries, voice all breathy and you can’t help but whine in response, your body feels so hot.

His husky voice sends shivers down your spine, he pushes you into the bed as your lips finally disconnect after what felt like hours.

Jungkook quickly takes off his shirt as he climbes on top of you, impatient and hungry.

His hand plays with the strap of your floral dress, but it’s been so long that his warm hands feel so cold and, foreign to you. “Fuck fuck fuck!” He curses in excitement as he pulles you in another kiss.

Your lips connecting together once again, Jungkook groans in desire. His strong hands grip on your shoulders so tightly that you welp in pain.

“Sorry baby can’t really contain myself… I need to be inside you so bad!” His voice was laced with lust, he was almost crying, his apology is rushed.

But as soon as his hands are between your legs, his fingers taking your panties off, you’re waiting in anticipation, And he’s almost taken them off,

I can’t believe that he’ll finally get to have sex with you after so long. His heartbeat is so loud and he is so impatient but then the luck isn’t really on his side, because you guys hear the baby monitor beep, and your senses awaken immediately in realisation.

“Jungkook get off! He’s awake, he must be hungry!” You push the man off you as you quickly get up,

Not giving a chance for Jungkook to react or even comprehend, what just happened now, he’s watching you with shock in his eyes,, you exit the room while fixing your dress before, he can call out your name.

And behind you, Jungkook cries, cussing out loudly, growling,

“FUCK MY LIFE.” with a raging boner.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Good Lil Boy

prince!wooyoung x princess!reader

enemies to lovers au

genres: tiny bit of fluff, loads of angst, smut- both hard and soft (mdi!) swearing, wooyoung being wooyoung (a tease), wooyoung driving you clinically and romantically insane, etc etc

word count: 23k

synopsis: you and wooyoung may be best friends but you are also each other's worst enemies, leaving no chance to humiliate and tease the other. when you meet at prince yunho's kingdom for a 3 months retreat, things take an unexpected turn as you start to place very personal bets and find yourselves unable to keep your hands off each other, something you'd regret later as you fail to keep boundaries.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Unfortunately, that is how it is,” Seonghwa was resting his face on one hand, elbow propped on the table as he scanned you, a smirk growing on his face. “Can’t say I hate what’s happening. Ought to put you in your place, Princess.”

You looked at Hongjoong for help, “He’s not fucking serious, is he?”

“Ought to teach you how to speak to elders too,” Seonghwa muttered and Hongjoong laughed.

“I’m sorry, Princess. That’s how it is. It’s only three months, what could go wrong?”

That was the conversation you recalled when you reached the castle in Utopia, the face you were dreading right in front of you as you got out of your carriage.

“This place is already one prince too crowded,” you looked at Prince Wooyoung, his smirk growing by the second. “Here to learn how to live up to your title, eh?”

“I’d say that to you,” Prince Wooyoung bowed dramatically. “This place ought to teach a princess how to make good use of her mouth.”

“Like you’d know,” you sneered at him as you waited for Hongjoong and Seonghwa to stop giving orders to the rest of your companions so they could join you and take you inside, away from that brat.

“I’d say I know very well- how to make good use of my mouth,” he winked at you and you put your hands over your ears, grimacing as you called for the two to hurry up. Prince Wooyoung scoffed in victory before going inside with his companions who greeted you with bows. 

Just a week ago, you had received the news from your father- Utopia’s royal family had invited princes and princesses from across the continent, holding an event, something like a holiday retreat for everyone. The details of it you would receive upon arriving but you had heard it was going to be fun and games, and you would have believed them, would have enjoyed your stay except-

Except for the fact that Wooyoung was here.

You didn’t hate Wooyoung, no. You abhorred him, his sassiness, his brattiness, his very existence, just like he hated yours. And it wasn’t due to a petty reason (though that was debatable as well). As children, since your parents were close, you two had spent most of your prepubescent years together. You had even been friends. But everything had changed once you two were grown enough to be aware that you were a boy and a girl.

And it was both your fault and his. 

You did not like recalling the dark times, as you so dramatically liked to put. Some would say it wasn’t even a reason big enough to hate each other, but you argued that it was. He had humiliated you in front of Prince Yunho, whose castle in Utopia you were now in. You, in return, had humiliated him in front of Princess Yuju of Neverland, whom he had always had a crush on. You called yourself even but he decided to fight with you, the result of which was now obvious to everyone who knew you.

Prince Yunho greeted you both as you entered the castle, inquiring of your parents’ health. You shared a hug, telling him how much they missed him and looked forward to meeting him in three months’ time, when all this would be over.

“Are you sure your parents are the only ones who missed him?” Wooyoung muttered and you flipped your middle finger at him, Yunho laughing at you two as he told Wooyoung to behave while he was around you. You left before he could start recalling the dark times, putting an arm in Seonghwa’s as he escorted you to the guest chambers.

“You should have told me that brat was going to be here,” you slumped on the couch, Seonghwa and Hongjoong snickering, “You both just love to see me miserable, don’t you?”

“Come on,” Hongjoong said, “If we’d told you, you would have never agreed to come.”

“Exactly,” you gave him a side-eye, “This is treachery. I ought to get you both beheaded.”

Seonghwa ignored your remarks like he usually did as he handed you a glass of water, “Cool down. It would do you good to tolerate his existence while you’re here. Who knows? Maybe you two will become friends again.”

“Yeah, who knows, Seonghwa,” you sipped the water. “Maybe he would fall to his knees and apologise. Maybe the world will end. Who knows?”

“Why is she so dramatic?” Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong for help who was almost half asleep.

“The important question, my dear friend,” Hongjoong began, “Is why do we serve this spoilt Princess-”

“I’m spoiled? You clearly haven’t met Wooyoung.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong decided you were right later that evening when Wooyoung was flirting with the other princesses from around the continent while sending knowing smirks in your direction, which you tried to ignore but then he did what you feared- a princess you recognised was from the south came and asked you, “Did you really burn your hair off once while trying to impress Prince Yunho? All of it?”

However, the duo were also impressed by your patience and your will to not bend under Wooyoung, to meet fire with fire, as you replied, “Oh no, honey. That was Prince Wooyoung- you see how half his hair is another colour? That’s because they can never be the same colour again. Ask him, go on.”

The Princess, who was no more than 13, gasped, believing what you said right away as she made her way back to Wooyoung and seconds later, you heard a howl of laughter and you sipped on your wine in victory. Hongjoong patted you on the back, “I have to admit, that was a good one.”

“Do not encourage her,” Seonghwa warned but he, too, was smiling. “Here he comes.”

Prince Wooyoung plopped himself beside you, shaking his head as he grinned, “That was a good one. They refuse to believe I haven’t dyed my hair.”

“You should have been more clever with your lies,” you smiled sweetly at him, “I do wonder what you were thinking when you decided this was a good look on you.”

“Oh, the ladies love it,” Wooyoung flicked his half-tied hair, “So. I hear it’s about time you get married. Should I find you a good suitor here?”

Oh no.

“You’re my age,” you smirked at him, “Maybe I should announce you’re mine. Let’s see if you get the same company of ladies around you then.”

Wooyoung cooed, “Can’t resist calling me yours?”

You leaned forward, your noses almost brushing, “My tongue’s still bitter thanks to the aftertaste.”

Wooyoung made a face as you sat back in your position, “Three months here, Princess. Get ready for hell.”

He blew a kiss your way before he went back, making all the ladies that were watching go wild and you glared at Seonghwa and Hongjoong, “Give me a good enough reason not to murder him right now.”

“Your own execution?”

“I said a good enough reason,” you turned to look at Wooyoung who was now back to sitting in the middle of a crowd of ladies, “Execution sounds tempting.”

—----------------

The next day, all the young royals settled themselves in the Great Hall for breakfast where you spotted Prince San- an old friend of yours. You waved at him from a distance and wowed internally at how different he looked- he had definitely matured a lot. Prince Yunho stood up after everyone was done with breakfast, clinking his glass to get everyone's attention.

"It's so good to have most of you here, after years," he began, meeting eyes with the princes and princesses from across the continent, "It was my father's idea that I host this retreat for all of us, a way to catch up with everyone and reminisce over old memories, and who knows? Maybe some of us will go back engaged," he threw a wink in one direction. "Anyways, you all are free to roam around, but I had a little something in mind-"

He then laid out his plan- Mondays for horse riding, Tuesdays for board games, Wednesdays for outdoor games, Thursdays for history lessons, Fridays for balls and parties and Saturdays and Sundays would be free unless something came up. You liked that- you weren't bound to stay the whole three months (though Yunho assured anyone who wanted to could stay here forever) but you decided it was a relief from your life back home, where everyday had started to feel bland as you followed a mechanical routine. Everyone was just as excited as you, if not more. 

You got up after Yunho excused himself, approaching San and sharing a hug, "You've changed, Prince."

"I hope it's a good change. You're prettier than ever," San smiled. 

"Thank you," you smiled back. "Good to see you, Jongho," you addressed his Right Hand, who was also a friend of yours.

"It's been long, Princess," he bowed. "I see Yeosang- let's go greet them. Have you met them yet?"

Yeosang being Wooyoung's Right Hand- you shook your head, following him as Yeosang greeted you three.

"Ah, Princess, I'm glad you're here. Finally someone I can badmouth Wooyoung with."

You grinned, "This is why I like you, Yeosang."

"Now, now," Wooyoung approached you. "Already teaming up against me?"

"What do you mean? We've been a team ever since I can remember," Yeosang dramatically said, earning a laugh from everyone else and a slap from him.

"All my best friends are here," Yunho and his Right Hand, Mingi approached the group with Seonghwa and Hongjoong, "There's a lot of catching up to do. What do you say, drinks tonight, my room."

Everyone agreed, "Only if someone stops Mingi from crying when he gets drunk."

"I don't cry when I'm drunk!" Mingi laughed at Jongho.

"You definitely do, Mingi, I can attest to that," Yunho laughed.

Yunho was right.

Mingi did cry when drunk.

However, that was the least of your problems right now, because what threatened you was Wooyoung, who was an extreme flirt when drunk.

"Like sober Wooyoung wasn't enough," you put your feet on his shoulder to push him away harshly as he tried approaching you, almost crawling. "Now I have to deal with a horny Wooyoung."

It had all been normal- after dinner, you all met in Yunho's room after the rest of the people excused themselves for the night. Some were having drinks with their own groups, and your group of friends was as old as you so nobody batted an eye at your easy interactions.

You all caught up with each other, Wooyoung and you occasionally shooting a snide remark to the other, and the boys made you both sit in opposite corners, having a laugh over how you two still fought so much that it was probably love.

"That's not love," you spat.

"Yeah, we hate each other's guts," Wooyoung, for once, was on your side.

"You keep saying that," San teased, "I just know these three months are going to change something between you two indefinitely."

"Eternal hate sounds appealing, what say you, Wooyoung?"

"Very," he grinned at you.

"Gosh, is nobody gonna comment on his hair though?" You met eyes with everyone, "He looks like a half fried biscuit."

Everyone roared with laughter and Wooyoung gaped at you, "Nice try, Princess. Obviously trying to get attention off the fact that you have this weird haircut now- do you know it makes your face look fat?"

You unconsciously tugged at your bangs while the rest of the boys looked at each other, an echo of "I didn't even notice" and "me neither" going around the room.

"Please, have you looked in the mirror? And what's with the ponytail? You think you look hot?"

"I don't know, Princess," Wooyoung turned towards you. "Do I look hot?"

"Oh, someone get me a drink before I throw up all over the rug," you mumbled, Yeosang laughing as he passed you a drink and you downed it, glaring at Wooyoung who still looked amused. "Wipe that stupid grin off your face, Prince. Someone might think you actually find me funny."

"I do," he said, "find you amusing. Such a mouth you have on you. God…" he downed his own drink. "I missed this."

You started smiling- you missed this too. You may hate Wooyoung's guts but he was still your oldest friend. Everyone cheered, clinking their glasses together, going back to teasing each other over anything and everything-

Until everyone became drunk.

"Get him off me, Yeosang," you almost cried. "He's being weird."

"You two need this, you know," Yeosang only watched as Wooyoung attempted to crawl on top of you just to spite you. "We ought to put you two in the same dungeon for these three months."

"There's so much sexual tension between them, it's not even funny," San commented.

"Oh, shut up!" You and Wooyoung shouted at him together and he raised his hands but his smug face said he had proven his point. You got up, going to hide between Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

"Princess!" Wooyoung cried out as he got up, swerving dangerously as he ran his eyes around the room, searching for- "You!"

He almost tripped on one of Yunho's sprawled limbs as he made his way in front of you, "Everyone! Do you all know it's time for our little princess to find a suitor!"

Everyone including, to your dismay, Seonghwa and Hongjoong raised their glasses and cheered for you and you slumped even further down the couch. Wooyoung met eyes with you, "So… Who in this room would you give a chance, Princess?"

You rolled your eyes, "You think you undeserving shits have a chance?" Everyone booed at you, making you laugh. "No, I'm serious. Who do you think I'd even consider? I have known you guys since we were toddlers, take that into consideration too."

Wooyoung went behind San, rubbing his shoulders. "This lad has grown up well. How about him?"

You looked at Wooyoung in warning, who sported the most smug expression. San was thankfully too drunk to notice what was happening. "Can you stop this and sit down before I make you?"

"Make me? You can't make me do anything, Princess."

You took the challenge, walking to him slowly and he mimicked your actions until you both were face to face. "Look at you. You're just begging for it, Wooyoung. Begging for me to put you in your place."

Wooyoung put his fingers under your chin and you tried to ignore the way his eyes were dark as he looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes and the shiver his touch sent down your spine. "Do I have to get on my knees for you to do it?"

You heard the faint oohs from your friends who were conscious enough to listen in. You smirked, "You think about that image a lot? You, on your knees, in front of me?"

"God, no," Wooyoung scoffed, patting your cheek lightly, "Don't flatter yourself, Princess."

"Alright, before you two kiss in front of me," Hongjoong got up, clapping. "Everyone, bed, now."

Wooyoung and you immediately pretended to throw up as you two drew away and you followed Hongjoong and Seonghwa to your chamber, collapsing on the bed and passing out before you could recall the events of tonight.

—--------------------

You were sipping your margarita, relaxing on a chair in the shade with some of the people who weren’t interested in horse-riding itself, or who, like you, were currently inconvenienced due to an injury- yours being a still healing ankle. You figured you could join in the horse-riding lessons in a week or two, though you weren’t sure you would be learning much- you kind of sucked at it no matter who taught you. You just couldn’t deal with horses.

But seeing Wooyoung zoom past the audience with a smug look on his face as he rode possibly the most beautiful stallion present, in a rather graceful manner, you weren’t sure you wanted Wooyoung to see you struggle with horse-riding. After all, he was always waiting for a chance to spot your weakness and make a joke out of it.

“You look like you’re wishing he’d fall off and die,” Princess Yuju- one of your oldest friends- laughed as she slumped down next to you with a drink of her own, patting the sweat off her forehead with a kerchief. 

“Is it that obvious?” You muttered and she shook her head in amusement. “Okay, as appealing as that thought is, I was just wishing I could join, but you know how hesitant I am with horses.”

“I haven’t done this in a while so I have to admit, I was feeling nervous but Seonghwa… he’s a good teacher.”

You raised a brow as you noticed her smiling as she mentioned his name. “You still have a crush on him? I thought that was just a passing thing.”

“I thought too,” she sighed dreamily. “He’s just… such a gentleman.”

You put a hand over your mouth as you laughed, briefly recalling the events of last night. “You know what? Maybe you should see him drunk. He’s very talkative when drunk.”

“He shouldn’t see me drunk,” Yuju muttered and you giggled- she had a habit of getting physically affectionate when drunk, though she had a good level of tolerance. “And… here comes your favourite person.”

You didn’t know who she meant but the last person you were expecting was Wooyoung who was wiping his forehead with a towel and threw it in your direction as he got closer. With no time to dodge it, it landed on your face and you cursed under your breath, throwing it away.

“What’s your problem?”

“You have something on your face,” he said as he settled down in front of Yuju who was trying not to laugh.

“What?” You asked, patting your cheeks.

“Ugliness,” Wooyoung said and turned to Yuju. “How are you doing? You’re prettier than I last saw you.”

“And you’re still as shameless,” Yuju patted your back as you gaped at Wooyoung because how dare he? “I don’t get why you two won’t get along after all these years. It’s like you’re both doing it on purpose.”

“We get along well, don’t we?” Wooyoung asked and you nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, we do,” you looked at Yuju. “As well as water and fire.”

Yuju made an unimpressed face and spotted Seonghwa stepping off from his own horse. Just like yours, Wooyoung’s eyes also followed her gaze and you both shared a knowing smile. Yuju straightened and glanced at you both. “I’m going to leave you two… to bond.”

“To bond,” you muttered sourly as she left and Wooyoung scoffed. 

“So,” he crossed his legs. “How are your parents doing?”

“Are we actually doing this?” You scoffed but when his straight face didn’t change, you shrugged. “They’re fine. What about yours?”

“Fine, for the most part,” he looked towards the field where a few people were still riding. “Mom misses you. She keeps complaining about how you haven’t visited in a while.”

You smiled at that- as strange as your relationship was with Wooyoung, your relationship with his mother was even stranger. It had started as you getting in trouble with her for sneaking in her room because you loved the intricate necklace she always wore- you had been too scared to ask her directly. However, somehow when his mother, instead of scolding you when she found you trying to hide under a table, sneaked under it herself and shared stories of her own childhood, the two of you found yourselves in a bond that resembled something like a friend, or something like a mother-daughter relationship without all its complexities. 

You sometimes wondered if Wooyoung got his adventurous spirit from his mother. 

“I wanted to, last summer, but we had that issue with Halaland going on at that time,” you sighed. “I really wished things had sorted out earlier.”

“Aw, missed me?” He cockily rested his face in his hands. “You can admit it, you know.”

You frowned. “What’s your deal lately? You’ve never acted so… clingy.”

“With each passing year, I level up,” he said and you laughed at that- it was true. He was levelling up each year, not just in his personality and behaviour with you, but-

You couldn’t help but notice how sharp his facial structure had gotten since the last time you saw him- a year ago when he had visited your Kingdom of Eden to sort some things out. Wooyoung caught you staring. “Look at you. Shamelessly checking me out.”

“Do they give you nothing to eat anymore?” You ignored his comment. “You look frail.”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried-”

“Good for me, would make it easier for me to push you to your death-”

“It’s called maintaining myself,” Wooyoung got up and flexed his arm muscles and you blanched, the approaching figure of San shaking with laughter at you two. 

“Leave her alone,” San smacked Wooyoung’s neck. “He’s just trying to impress the ladies- he thinks he looks hot like this. What do you think?”

“Easier to kill,” you muttered.

“He’s gotten stronger, actually, haven’t you, Woo?” San examined his friend from head to toe. “Wanna arm wrestle and see who wins this time?”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” you laughed, knowing you weren’t ready for Wooyoung’s high-pitched screaming that followed every time he lost to someone in anything. Yunho caught your eye and he motioned for you to join him and Hongjoong. 

“I see you two are getting along,” Hongjoong scoffed. “How’s your ankle?”

“I think I’ll skip next week too,” you rotated your ankle and winced when it stung. “Why do you both look so serious anyway?”

“Yunho’s just worried if everyone’s having a good time, and you and Wooyoung always make sure he’s in a constant state of worry,” Hongjoong shook his head in disappointment and Yunho laughed.

“No, it’s not that,” Yunho shook his hands. “He’s right about me being worried though. Are you having a good time?”

“Minus Wooyoung, of course I am,” you smiled. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time, and I’m sure we all needed a break. So you-” you patted Yunho’s arm. “Stop worrying and have a good time too. You can relax with us- we’re all friends here.”

“I also wanted to tell you something,” Yunho took a deep breath. “Princess Haeun of Halaland is arriving tonight.”

You didn’t hide your sour expressions. “I thought she wasn’t going to make it?”

“Seems like she is,” Yunho glanced at Hongjoong. “Will you be alright?”

“Of course I will be,” you answered. “Our issue with Halaland won’t influence my behaviour with the Princess, but you do remember we used to be friends before she started pretending we’re strangers, right?”

“Yeah, I’m not on the best terms with her either,” Yunho nodded. “I don’t know why she suddenly decided to come. I thought she would decline for sure since I was the one who sent the invitations.”

“She’s probably got something up her sleeve,” Hongjoong considered. “Let’s not let her get to us, though, shall we?”

But the moment the Princess entered the Great Hall and paused to search the crowd and stopped when she met your eyes, you knew the sinking of your heart was something you couldn’t ignore. She smirked and resumed walking, Yunho dutifully leaving the table to greet her and you turned towards the rest.

“You all saw that, right?” You looked at Yeosang and Jongho who were in front of you. Yeosang nodded.

“Maybe she’s just happy to see you,” Jongho teased.

“You’re thinking too much,” Wooyoung chipped in, stealing the last chicken nugget from your plate and you gasped as he put it in his mouth. “That’s just how she always looks like.”

“First of all, how dare you steal my nugget? And no, she doesn’t. She specifically met my eyes and gave me an evil smile. You’re blind if you didn’t see that.”

“You call that an evil smile?” Wooyoung laughed, looking around him. “Has anyone ever seen her smile?”

“You-”

“Shh,” Yunho slid in his place next to you, waving a dismissive hand. “You all attract too much attention. I’ll send you home if you keep acting like this.”

“Tell me you saw her evil-smirk at me,” you asked and Yunho looked around the table to make sure no one but your group of friends was listening.

“I think I did,” he finally gave in. “She’s weird. She specifically asked how you were doing- she doesn’t care enough to ask about you as soon as she arrives.”

“See?” You turned to Wooyoung, having proven your point, who fell silent. “She’s gonna have a bigger problem with me now. Especially after the events of last year.” 

“Just ignore her, you’ll be fine,” Wooyoung finally said, downing his drink. 

“It’s hard to ignore someone who has a habit of getting disrespectful with others,” you muttered, sighing deeply. Wooyoung and the others were no strangers to your rocky relationship with the Princess of Halaland. Others would dismiss it as something similar to your relation with Wooyoung, but he was your friend. He held no malicious intentions towards you, no matter how harsh he could be with his jokes. 

“Just come to me if she tries something, okay?” Wooyoung locked eyes with you. “I know exactly how to shut her up.”

You looked at Wooyoung, surprised, while your group of friends hooted loudly at that.

And there it was. Wooyoung was always the first one to protect you. No matter how much you hated his guts, at times like this your heart fluttered, so you simply nodded and told the boys to shut up, unable to meet Wooyoung’s gaze for the rest of the night.

—------------------------

You wondered who had the brilliant idea of assigning your seat diagonally across Princess Haeun in the history class because so far, so not good.

“I think we can all agree that Eden has a history of dirty politics,” Haeun began, glancing casually at you while you rested your chin in your hand, rolling your eyes at her. “Considering how only a decade ago, Eden almost called war on the Allied Kingdoms, shouldn’t it be clear that Eden does not really deserve a seat at the Peace Council?”

“Uh, I think that wasn’t Eden-” San began but was cut when Haeun continued.

“The Peace Council’s foundation is threatened by Eden’s presence in the council, in my humble opinion- no offence to the Princess,” Haeun pasted her trademark smirk over her face and you glanced across the room- quite a few youngsters looked doubtful by her confidence- or maybe your lack thereof. “I think the members of the Peace Council should be the kingdoms who condemn war, not condone it.”

“That’s, uh… an interesting stance you have there,” Jongho, who was voted to be the unbiased fact-checker/host for the day, said. “Anyone who would like to present an opposing argument?”

“I think,” you began, raising your hand and continuing when Jongho gave you the heads-up. “I think that Princess Haeun facts are biassed. Of course, everyone is entitled to their opinions but I think the fact that the Allied Kingdoms were scheming to stop the trade from our shared seas… that calls for a threat or two, doesn’t it?”

“And as the oldest members of the Peace Council,” San was smirking, “Shouldn’t they have been resolving this issue ‘peacefully’ rather than this hostile approach which would clearly threaten the well-being of the residents of Eden?”

“What well-being, pray tell, would be threatened if the route was temporarily closed due to conflict? I’m sure Eden is capable enough to flourish trades with its neighbouring kingdoms rather than relying on the ones far away.”

“Conflict of the Allied Kingdoms and Halaland with Neverland, with whom we have maintained trade for as long as the kingdoms have existed,” You looked at Yuju. “Remind me again how our kingdoms would have been affected had the route been closed?”

“I think we’re all sensible enough to figure that out, aren’t we?” Yuju smirked. “Between the time to contact all kingdoms and begin trade, the damage… not only to Eden but to Neverland as well. I think it’s okay when it’s someone else.”

“Besides,” Wooyoung’s voice filled the room and you turned to look at his rather relaxed figure as he rubbed his nose, looking uninterested. “It’s rich coming from you when you sided with the Allied Kingdoms when things looked bleak for Eden. As the members of the ‘Peace’ Council, shouldn’t you have been, I don’t know, trying to do something for peace instead of something that would have surely instigated war?”

The look on Haeun’s face made you want to get up and kiss Wooyoung even if the thought somewhat repelled you. You turned to Jongho who was also trying to hide his satisfaction. “That’s right. As members of the Peace Council, I think whatever decisions made should have a peaceful outcome. If old dealings are disturbed, that would surely put anyone in a tight spot. Eden could have been less hostile, but the Allied Kingdoms and Halaland didn’t give them much of a choice in the first place.”

“Which is why no one really deserves the seat at the Peace Council,” Yunho concluded. “No one’s a saint. I think we should stop with the history lessons here and plan the ball for tomorrow, what do you say?”

The room burst into a chorus of cheers and you watched Haeun sulk in her seat while one of her friends tried to comfort her and shot nasty looks at you. You almost flipped the finger at them but you got distracted when Wooyoung took the empty seat behind you.

“You almost lost your composure back there, Princess.”

“Glad you decided to contribute with your valuable opinion,” you muttered.

“Know why?” He leaned forward, tucking your hair back. “I would like to be the only one who can rile you up. That’s why I’ll make sure I put Haeun in her place.”

You smacked Wooyoung’s hand away. “What sort of twisted logic is that? As much as I appreciate you trying to show Haeun her place, I think I can handle her. In fact, I think I should team up with her this time- she looks like she could kill you, not me.”

Wooyoung glanced at Haeun who indeed looked quite angry at Wooyoung. Perhaps, because they were neighbouring kingdoms, Haeun had expected Wooyoung to take her side but she couldn’t have been more wrong- Wooyoung had only one reason to side with you, and that was to have the upper hand. As if to prove that, he tilted his head. “Can’t handle me?”

“Sorry, no,” you made a disgusted face but then spotted San getting chummy with a shy girl in the corner- perhaps the princess of one of the kingdoms of the Allied. “Would you look at that?”

Wooyoung turned and chuckled when he saw the sight. “I guess he’s looking for a dance partner for tomorrow.”

“You got one?”

“Not yet,” he glanced at you. “And you?”

“I forgot that was a thing, honestly,” you sighed. “I don’t think anyone would be interested in me other than as a last option.”

“Now why would you think that?” Wooyoung tsk-ed. “You don’t lack anything- you’re pretty, you’re intelligent, you’ve got the dirtiest mouth, you can put a man in a chokehold-”

“That’s exactly why,” you grinned, ignoring the rush you got when you heard the first two compliments. “I think everyone’s scared of me, especially since I’m always surrounded by one of you idiots.”

“Well, Princess of Eden, you’re my first choice. Will you go to the dance with me?”

“No way in hell,” you countered, watching Wooyoung give in and burst out laughing. “Who placed the bets?”

“Those idiots,” Wooyoung pointed at Mingi and Yeosang- Yeosang seemed to have won as he pocketed some cash from a sulking Mingi. “I do love how quick you are. That makes you more attractive than you actually are, which isn’t much-”

“And that’s your cue to shut up. Wanna make another bet?”

“I’m all ears,” he leaned forward. 

“Haeun is going to say yes when you ask her to the ball,” you smirked.

Wooyoung raised a brow. “What makes you think I’d ask her in the first place?” 

“Because she keeps looking at you like she’d like to fuck you up- and not in a bad way,” You winked at him. “And… because she’d do anything to make me jealous.”

“Yeah, because everyone thinks we’re a thing,” Wooyoung nodded in understanding, shaking his head. 

“Doesn’t help when you’re… like this,” you said pointedly, glancing at the rest of the room who were all busy planning for tomorrow, leaving only the two of you interested in each other. “So?”

“So, I’d like to make another bet,” Wooyoung leaned forward, only the desk separating you two. “I know I’ll lose this one, but if Haeun makes the first move on me… you’ll be my date for the ball next weekend.”

“Ew, why would I agree to that?” You frowned. “And why would you want to take me?”

“I don’t like Haeun, you know I don’t. I won’t make the first move, but if she tries anything funny with me, I get to take you next weekend. And if she doesn’t, you have the choice of rejecting me.”

“Sometimes I wonder what you’ve stuffed in your skull to come up with things like that, but okay. I’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t make the first move-”

“Hey, no cheating!” Wooyoung practically shouted, getting up. “It’s time to seduce her. I need to lose the first bet to take you to the dance next weekend after all.”

You weren’t sure if you were regretting agreeing or ever coming up with the first bet, but whatever it was, you were more confused about the way Wooyoung had looked at you right before leaving.

—--------------------

You were wondering what disgusted you more- the sight of Haeun fluttering her lashes at Wooyoung as she danced with him, putting on the fakest smile you’d seen on a human, and pretending to act surprised at times– or, the sight of Wooyoung who had his hands on Haeun’s waists, who was whispering things in her ears, who looked pleased whenever he made her laugh. You really couldn’t decide.

“People are going to think you’re jealous,” Yunho poked your back and you cursed as you twisted in surprise. 

“I thought it was obvious that I am disgusted?”

“You keep telling yourself that, hon’,” Yunho shook his head. “Dance with me?”

You shrugged but accepted, getting up and straightening your midnight blue gown, glad you weren’t in a puffy peach dress like Haeun was- it was kind of making her look washed out. You took Yunho’s hand and he led you to the dance floor, the two of you taking up your positions and comfortably falling in a rhythm while you both observed the surroundings.

“You have eyes on you,” you said. “Who’s the lady in the black gown? Look at her when we turn.”

“Ah,” Yunho smirked and you raised a brow. “That’s the one I’m trying to impress tonight.”

“I think you’re doing a good job then,” you approved, smiling. “Do try not to smile like an idiot or she’ll catch on.”

“What, so I should play hard-to-get like you do?” Yunho looked at you.

“When have I ever played hard-to-get?”

“Isn’t that what you have been doing for so long now?” Yunho sighed. “I think you’re not even aware.”

“You’re not making any sense-”

“Wooyoung.”

You made a guttural sound at that. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Tell me what you think about him.”

“I don’t think about him, he disgusts me,” you muttered. Yunho winced.

“Try again. You’re too harsh, Princess.”

“Yunho,” you rolled your eyes. “Are you going to pretend you haven't known me since we were children? That you don’t know how Wooyoung and I have been since ages ago?”

“You used to be inseparable, you still kinda are,” he was grinning and you resisted the urge to kick his leg. “Problem is, you’re a bit too confused. Maybe you more than him. He seems to have figured it out-”

“Shut up,” you groaned. “You’re just trying to confuse me. Who placed bets this time?”

“No one,” Yunho stopped as the music ended and really looked at you. “It must be fun to act like you hate each other, but if you decide to drop the act… there are plenty of empty rooms in the west chamber where you two could-”

“And that’s my cue to get some air and wonder why I ever agreed to dance with you,” you curtsied him as the dance ended and he laughed, calling, ‘I know I’m right about this!’ as you steered yourself to the end of the ballroom to grab a drink. You encountered a few guests on the way who greeted you and made small talk, and by the time you had downed that drink, you were anxious to get some air. 

You decided to find the balcony at the other end of the room- the one that would probably have no audience at this time. As you reached the door, you spotted none other than Wooyoung and Haeun through the window, Haeun explaining something to Wooyoung while he nodded nonchalantly. You wondered what they were talking about but you noticed Yuju waving at you from the side and you decided you’d rather busy yourself with the girls than to think of what Yunho said which would surely haunt you at night-

And haunt it did when you had finally been free of the endless greetings and the mini-meeting with Hongjoong and Seonghwa to decide the schedule for the weekend and prepared to go to bed. It was way past midnight and you had just finished dressing into your black nightgown, pulling a wrap over it and taking your cup of chamomile tea to the window to drink in peace but found yourself plagued with thoughts of a certain someone.

As if the devils had planned your fate for the night themselves, you found Wooyoung looking up at you from the garden where he was alone. You almost hid out of instinct but he had seen you so you just waved awkwardly. He looked around and motioned for you to come down, but you shook your head, showing him your cup of tea- he was no stranger to your night habits. But then he motioned that he was coming to you, and you considered declining but then nodded, though, after he left, you wondered if you had the capacity to get into a vocal-battle with Wooyoung at this hour.

You opened the door and let him in, sighing when you took in his figure- he still hadn’t changed and was dressed in a three-piece, the buttons now undone and exposing quite a lot. You cleared your throat. “If you’re here to mock me or something, you can leave right now.”

“I’m here for the tea,” he sounded tired.

“Long night?” You asked as you shut the door and motioned for him to take a seat while you mixed the tea for him. “You looked like you were having fun.”

Wooyoung glanced at you, slumping further down the couch. “I did have fun when Haeun was not pretending to be someone else other than who she is. I mean- why pretend?”

“That’s what girls do when they aim to seduce someone,” you fluttered your lashes at him. “Like this?”

He let out a low laugh. “She’s actually not such a bad person when she’s being normal.”

“Oh, so you like her then?” You handed him the tea. 

“Not any more than I did earlier,” he said and you frowned in confusion. “Oh, and I won the bet, by the way.”

You made an impressed face. “She made the first move?”

He frowned in confusion. “You didn’t see her?”

“Was I supposed to witness that? Because that’s disgusting- oh.”

Wooyoung sipped the tea. “I should feel elated that I won the bet, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel good to be used. She spotted you near the balcony and that’s when she tried to kiss me. She thought I wouldn’t notice but I spotted you before her.”

“Just so we’re clear, I was only there to get some air but as soon as I saw the two of you, I backed away. It looked like you were having a… private conversation.”

“You should have joined,” Wooyoung shifted to turn towards you. “All she talked about was you.”

“Really?” You smirked, turning towards him too, not a lot of distance between you two. “All good things, I hope.”

Wooyoung chuckled, sipping again. “You looked good tonight, but I’ll be sending you a dress for next weekend. It’s going to be a masquerade ball- I know Yunho loves that shit. We’ll match.”

“Look at you,” you shook your head. “Your eyes always light up when you’re planning my demise. And I have plenty of dresses.”

“I know exactly what I want to see you in,” he let his eyes travel across your body and you suddenly felt conscious. 

“Are you drunk?” You frowned. “You’re babbling.”

“But you’re blushing,” Wooyoung was smirking shamelessly. “I wonder why.”

“That’s from the second hand embarrassment I’m getting from you,” you countered, cursing yourself internally. “Stop being a creep.”

“You know you love me,” he clicked his cup of tea with yours before drinking. You made an unimpressed face. 

“Oh, by the way, I forgot to give you this earlier-” he finished in his pocket, producing a small box.

“Wow, are you proposing to me?” You teased. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you, I-” he paused, shaking his head and opening the box to reveal a necklace with a teardrop turquoise shining in the middle. “Mom sent this for you.”

“You better finish that sentence, Wooyoung, I dare you to,” you muttered as you took the necklace from him and examined it. “Wow. This is beautiful.”

“My mom has always had a good eye for things,” he looked proud. “I just wonder why she wastes it on getting things for you-”

“I’ll thank her myself,” you interrupted, getting up and going to the mirror next to the fireplace, unlocking the necklace and wearing it on your neck- or trying to but you couldn’t find the clasp so you just settled at examining how it looked, but-

“Let me,” Wooyoung muttered- you hadn’t even heard him come behind you. You felt the brush of his fingers on the back of your neck and you suppressed the shiver it would have sent down your spine. “There,” he said, his hands back on your shoulders as he looked at your reflection in the mirror. “Perfect.”

You weren’t looking at the necklace anymore- you were watching him slide his hands down your arms. “You look like something’s bothering you.”

He glanced at you from the mirror. “Something is.”

He didn’t say what, but you felt him take another step towards you so your back was flush against his body. This time, you didn’t stop the shudder, especially when he held your hands in his and rested his cheek against your head. “Like what you see?”

You couldn’t think- sure, this was a very Wooyoung thing to do. But this time, the two of you were alone, there were no bets in question- as far as you knew- and you hadn’t really been arguing like you had been pretty much the entire week. “What are you doing?”

You hated how it almost came as a whisper but he didn’t seem to care. He let the tip of his nose trail down your temple, squeezing your hands as his lips trailed down your neck, making you push your head back to give him more access, and then-

Then he kissed what had to be your sweet spot- you moaned more in surprise than in pleasure because how could he know when it was his first time? The sound seemed to have pleased him though, because he started nibbling at the spot, his arms wrapping around you, your hands still in his. He made a sound too as he shifted, his hair falling on your slightly exposed chest. You couldn’t help but watch the entire thing which perhaps made your nerves more heightened, your legs weakening with each passing second, and just when you were about to lose your footing, he drew back and helped you stand up, examining what he had done.

“Nice,” he licked his lips. “Goes well with the necklace. Now you can show them both off proudly.”

You gaped at him, the spot quickly turning a deeper shade of purple. Taking a deep breath, you mustered the deadliest glare. “Jung Wooyoung, you absolute-”

“Come on,” he shook his head, having grabbed your wrist that was in the air to punch his chest. With his other hand tucked under your chin, he ran his thumb on your lower lip and drew closer to whisper in your ear. “You liked every second of it.”

With a final kiss to your cheek, he drew back with the cockiest smile you had ever seen him wear, and waved goodbye as he left the room, leaving you standing in the middle of it and trying to control the overwhelming sensations that ripped through your body in his absence. You finally made it to the couch, slumping down, because-

Just what had he done? 

And why did you like it so much?

—---------------------

You weren’t sure if Wooyung was avoiding you but things were pretty, abnormally peaceful, which was saying something. Perhaps he knew you were out to murder him the first chance you got, but the weekend passed by rather peacefully and you even had a girls only sleepover where you gossiped all night, sharing stories and pampering each other.

And that was when, in the middle of massaging your shoulder, Yuju had noticed the telltale fade of Wooyoung’s mark.

“Now what is that-” she had begun but you shut her up, promising to explain it later and then avoiding her for the next two days until it was Tuesday and you finally met your group of friends in the evening for board games, where both Yuju and Wooyoung were present.

You paused in the middle of the room, Seonghwa and Hongjoong beside you. “Can we go home now?”

The duo turned to look at you once, ignoring you as they joined the rest, making you take a deep breath and walk to Yuju who wasn’t sitting too far from Wooyoung.

“I knew you couldn’t avoid me forever,” Yuju looked a bit too pleased to see you. “Wooyoung and I were just chatting. He said he missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you called to him, deciding at that moment that there was no way in hell you were letting Wooyoung get the better of you, and that retribution would come. He turned and acknowledged you with a nod, his glance going to where the mark would have been, carefully concealed now. “In fact, my hands have been itching since that night of the ball.”

“Ah, I feel shy,” Wooyoung hid behind San and Yuju laughed sarcastically. “What do you aim to do? Do not try to make a move on me-”

“Your mind ought to be cleansed,” San slapped Wooyoung’s neck and you laughed. 

“Hold up- the night of the ball?” Yuju raised a brow. “What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing-”

“Something-”

“Jung Wooyoung,” you warned, turning to Yuju. “You know how he is. He’s trying to turn me clinically insane.”

“I’m clinically insane… for you too,” Wooyoung threw a wink and the three of you gasped. 

“San, please take him away from me before I grab something sharp and end this once and for all,” you begged and San chuckled, practically dragging him across the room and you felt like you could finally breathe, though, now that he was in front of you, you both kept exchanging death glares and talking in your own sign language. 

While Yunho explained the rules of the first game and you saw Wooyoung watching you instead of listening to Yunho, you flipped your finger at him and he blew a kiss at you, which probably the entire room saw. You stifled a groan and heard a disgusted sigh-

“Get a room, you two.”

You turned to the source- Haeun, who was sitting near you. You rolled your eyes, not bothering to respond but when she muttered something to her friends and they all laughed at you, you turned to her, ignoring Yuju who tried to stop you.

“Get a room, you said, huh?” You asked in a low voice, glancing at Yunho who was explaining something to the youngsters, and then at Wooyoung who had his eyes on you. “Too bad you couldn’t get one that night.”

Haeun’s friends collectively gasped at that and she actually looked offended. “What would you know about that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I guess Wooyoung was bored enough to come find me. You know we hate each other’s guts. What does that say for you?”

Haeun scoffed. “I’m not interested in him. Go ahead- he’s all yours.”

“Oh, she says she’s not interested in him,” you turned to Yuju. “Does she want me to wipe that horrible image of her fluttering her lashes at Wooyoung during their dance? Because that would need some help-”

“You-”

“Ladies,” Yunho warned with a smile- only you knew that smile meant he’d had enough, though to the others he still looked calm. “The games are starting. Are we good?”

You straightened and nodded and Haeun did the same. Yunho distributed the cards and you played with your respective groups- yours against Haeun’s. The plan was to play in groups of 6 and compete with each other until 2 remained.

Haeun looked confident, but if there was one thing you were good at, it was at catching lies. You had always been observant enough to notice that one particular thing they did when they lied, which gave them away.

And you knew Haeun would always scratch somewhere on her skin before lying. The game of bluff was easier, especially with Yuju and Eunha by your side who were better at card games than you, so your team took on a winning streak.

A few hours later, only your team and Wooyoung’s team remained and you sat across from each other. You looked at Yunho and Jongho. “This team has all the luck, it seems.”

“I think we should announce our defeat here,” Eunha joked. Yunho’s luck wasn’t something that anyone took lightly.

“Come on,” he laughed. “We have 3 rounds. Anything could happen- and you two are good at this. I don’t know why you teamed up with y/n though, she kind of sucks at games…”

“Not this one,” you challenged. “Don’t tell them why.”

“I guess you’re feeling cocky today,” Wooyoung locked eyes with you. “Maybe we should have met in private before coming to the games. I’m not sure how confident you would have been then.”

“I’m not sure you would have made it here then,” you scoffed. “And neither would I have. I’d be busy cleaning up the murder scene.”

“Oh please, you two,” Jongho shook his head. “So stupid. Let’s start.”

The thing about Wooyoung was, you knew him inside out. He had taught you all the games that you knew today, so you knew how he played as well. You only needed to feel Wooyoung out- you were pretty sure that you would make it.

Halfway through the game, Wooyoung couldn’t believe his ears as you called out every bluff of not only him but Yunho as well. Jongho was a little hard to crack. “I’m your mentor, you can’t do this to me!”

You downed another drink that Hongjoong passed you, who loved seeing Wooyoung miserable. “Kill him, y/n.”

“Got it,” you laughed, glancing at the audience around you. Yunho scolded a sulky Wooyoung and told him to man up for the second round, where they could turn the tables if they won, otherwise it was going to be a clean victory for you.

You relaxed, observing your opponents. Your strategy for the this round was to target Wooyoung. After all, you had revenge to take. You dealt the cards and you let them pass twice before noticing Wooyoung picking at his earlobe. You stifled a smile and watched him place two cards on the table.

“Two nines,” he declared and looked at you.

“That’s a bluff,” you told him.

“Are you sure about that?” He leaned forward, smirking. And there it was- his defence mechanism.

“I’m calling it.”

Yuju tapped your arm to make you think again but you ignored her. You looked at Yunho. “Go ahead and check.”

Yunho laughed in defeat before he announced the cards, and while the rest cheered, Wooyoung and you found yourself in a staring contest. He couldn’t help but smile- he liked when you were in your element.

“How can you always tell when I’m lying?” He finally asked when everyone started to scatter.

“You have this very obvious thing you do when you lie. Not going to tell you,” you said.

“Well, you won,” Wooyoung clapped. “What do you want?”

He was talking about the bet you had placed earlier- fulfilling a wish if you won. You grinned, “I’ll save it for later.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow. “Got some plans, I see.”

“Yeah,” you leaned forward. “I have a few, yes.”

“Well, at least you’ll stop avoiding me then?” He asked casually and you shrugged.

“Who said I was avoiding you?”

“Come on,” he scoffed, getting up and motioning at the table with the snacks. “You missed horse riding yesterday.”

“My ankle is still healing,” you told him. “I wanted to sleep in.”

“And you didn’t come to have dinner with us on Sunday.”

“I had to answer letters from home- wait, why am I even giving an explanation?” You took a bite of a chocolate chip cookie. “What makes you think I’d want to see you on purpose? My whole life has been navigating around ways to avoid you-”

Wooyoung scoffed. “I distinctly remember you watching me do that to you in the mirror,” he pointed towards where the fading bruise had been concealed with makeup. “You didn’t push me back. I wonder why.”

“Maybe because I was having a hard time processing exactly what you were trying to do,” you tugged at the necklace he had put on you subconsciously. 

“Want me to test your processing speed again?” Wooyoung grinned and you gaped at him.

“You know, that’s enough cockiness. I bet you’d be whimpering if I did that to you.”

“Ah, you think too highly of yourself, but I’m open if you want to test that theory-”

You laughed in disbelief. “What’s got you so horny these days, Wooyoung? Haven’t had a good fuck for a while?”

Wooyoung poked his tongue in his cheek- a sure sign that now he was turned on, and somehow, after realising just what you had said, you felt your ears heat up. “No. No I haven’t. And you look like you haven’t either.”

“I’m good,” you muttered. “Now get your head out of the gutter.”

“Well,” he drew closer, glancing around. Everyone seemed to be busy so he stood behind you just like he had that night and you found yourself frozen in your spot. He leaned forwards, one arm going around your waist and keeping you flush to himself while the other picked a chocolate from the table that he popped in his mouth. Your flush got deeper when you realised that the hard thing poking at your back wasn’t his flashy metallic belt. He whispered in your ear, “I know you’re holding yourself back, Princess. I know exactly what you want to do to me. I’m just telling you that you can. I’d like to be ruined by you.”

With that, he drew back and you almost lost your footing as you gathered yourself, unable to meet his eyes because yes, you hadn’t been the best at hiding the scandalous, borderline unholy flashes that crossed your mind whenever Wooyoung did something or acted some way. It took you a while to realise that only Wooyoung was capable of riling you up to the extent that you’d want to show him his place in that way. 

But right now, you were more pissed because how could he do that to you when everyone was right here? You glared at him but he only winked at you, waving goodbye and turning-

“Oh, no, you’re not,” you grabbed his arm. “You’re coming with me.”

“Oh, my,” Wooyoung grinned. “If anyone sees us, what are they going to think?”

“Like I give two shits about that,” you dragged him out of the room, praying no one would question your absence, though people would surely notice the absence of Wooyoung since he was, well, noisy to put it nicely. “This is the west chamber, right?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung was now walking beside you, his arm still in your hand. “Why?”

“Yunho mentioned there were empty rooms here, with some torturing instruments,” you muttered and he laughed out loud. “Perhaps I should test them to see if they’re still functioning.”

“Nice idea. I’m thinking spiked cuffs, neck collars-”

You tried the door of the first room but it was locked. The second was unlocked and you stopped, realising if you stepped in, you couldn’t back out-

“Having second thoughts already?”

“You are driving me insane,” you groaned, pulling him in and locking the door. You took a few deep breaths and looked around the room- pretty plain but you dragged a chair and made him sit so you could stand and point your finger at him.

“Stop looking so amused. Tell me what exactly is your problem. How dare you do that to me?” You watched Wooyoung’s smile fall. “Do you want me to tell Hongjoong? Because he’s gonna kill you if he learns you’re playing with me-”

“Who said I’m playing?” His voice was serious. “I just like to see you all riled up like that-”

“Oh?” You put your hands on your hips as you stared at his bulge. “You like to see me riled up? Does that turn you on, Wooyoung? Maybe I should give Haeun some pointers-”

You shut up when Wooyoung casually put his hand on top of his bulge and gave it a rub, licking his lips as he looked at you. You shook your head, stepping towards him, ignoring the red alert in your brain that told you none of this made sense, but there was one thing about you- you didn’t believe in eye for an eye, you believed in doing worse in retribution.

And Wooyoung had no right making you feel that way. So you put your hand under his chin, making him look up at you. “Look at you. Practically on your knees for me, aren’t you?”

“Not yet, Princess,” he shook his head. “You’ll be on your knees before me.”

“You wanna bet on that, pretty boy?” You cocked your head, running your thumb over his lips and when they parted, you slid it in and watched him suck it. He could still taste the chocolate you had just been eating. You took it out, trailing it down his chin and down the neck, putting your hand around his neck and examining how it looked, squeezing it a little to make his mouth part for air. “My hands make a nice enough necklace, I think.”

“Are you going to give me something that’d go along with it?” His voice was husky.

“Do you want me to?” You asked, testing his patience and you saw his eyes glaze. He gave you a subtle nod and you drew closer until your noses were brushing, giving his neck a little squeeze as you trailed your lips to his ears and whispered-

“Then beg for it.”

Wooyoung groaned, grabbing your free hand and keeping you in your place. You let your lips trail down his neck for good measure before drawing away and seeing the desperation in his eyes. You scoffed. “You’ve got the look right. You just need to say it out loud, Prince.”

“You know I could make you beg for that right now, don’t you?” He asked and you shrugged. “I’m only letting you do this because I want you to.”

“Oh? Submissive tonight, are we?” You laughed, cupping his face and kissing right next to his lips. “There’s your reward.”

There was a moment of pause where you both contemplated just what had happened before Wooyoung finally lost it and decided to have his way with you- he got up quicker than you could process and had your face in his hands and was kissing you like a man deprived of air and you were quicker to respond by parting your mouth and letting his tongue in for a heated kiss, your hands fisting his collar for support. You moaned loudly in the kiss and he swallowed it, not giving you a moment to breathe as he led you to the wall so he could lean down and angle his face better in the kiss.

If you began to wonder what you were feeling, you could only explain it as something inside you breaking free, some wall that had been there falling down- something like that. Your brain was mush, your heart feeling things you had never felt before, but what you felt most was the unmistakable desire coursing through you. You broke the kiss and gasped for air as he rested his forehead against yours, repeatedly pecking your lips while you caught your breath.

“You’re… insane,” you breathed and he chuckled deeply, brushing his nose with yours and making you bite your lips as you resisted doing something stupid- but maybe… maybe now you could. 

After all, you two couldn’t simply go back from here so while you were at it… you could enjoy it.

And see him suffer, the voice in your head said. You smirked, fisting his shirt and pushing him away, shaking your head as you pushed him back until he sat down on the bed and you got on top of him. He was about to hold your leg and position it to his preference but you muttered a ‘nuh-uh’, instead making him spread his legs so you could press your knee lightly on his bulge and as he moaned, you kissed him for a few moments, one hand supporting you on top of him while the other slowly crept behind his neck and tugged at his long hair when you broke the kiss.

You examined how he looked in that moment- lids heavy, lips parted and wanting more, throat bobbing- you scoffed and grabbed his tied hair, fisting it so you could angle him as you finally started kissing his neck and found the sweet spot when you felt his bulge twitch under your knee’s pressure. You started licking and nibbling there without holding back- he needed to feel more than what he had made you feel, so you made sure you made him groan multiple times as you planted the mark. Somewhere between it, his hand had travelled to your waist and was squeezing your hips- you tried to ignore it but your core was throbbing very painfully now. 

You finished your work and admired it, making Wooyoung laugh in disbelief. “All this for revenge?”

“What can I say?” You smacked your lips. “You gave me something to look forward to.”

Wooyoung bit his lip out of habit and considered the fact that you were still pressing your knee where he wanted to. Before he could do something about it, though, you drew away, brushing your clothes. 

“We’re done here,” you told him and he stifled his groan- he liked what game you were playing with him and he was not going to be the one to admit defeat first. 

“For now?” He dared ask.

You licked your lips as you scanned him ever so slowly and nodded. “That’s on you. This- what happened tonight? That’s on you too. Don’t get any ideas, and remember-” you pointed your finger at him but then decided against it, lowering it. “Remember- this means nothing.”

You weren’t sure if the look that passed Wooyoung was hurt or regret but he needed to realise that if he had started this game with you, he was going to be the one who'd decide his fate. “This means nothing… unless I want it to mean something, right?”

You didn’t answer that, but it looked like he had understood, so you told him not to follow you before leaving the room and going straight to your own, going to the sink and washing your face with cold water and gripping the sink as you looked at your reflection in the mirror.

Oh, how you had wanted to let him do things to you, but…

But Wooyoung understood. He had taken the first step, dissolving the unmistakable sexual tension between you two that had been there for years now. He had risked it all, and your response had been unexpected but now that he thought about it, it was something you’d do, and deep down, he knew it. He knew that you hated losing. If he had simply kissed you and confessed that he was interested in you, you would never have responded because of the strange love-hate relationship you two had for years now.

Friends, you called yourselves. Were you friends? Yes, but did friends do this type of stuff? Probably not, he laughed to himself as he recalled when something had possessed him to mark you. He just couldn’t resist it when you wore the necklace that he had chosen for you. Yes, it was from his mother, but he was always the one who picked the gifts for you. Would you have worn it if you knew?

As he lay down to sleep, he was plagued with such questions for most of the night and he wondered if he could stop things here or take the next step and find himself falling in dangerous, perhaps unwelcomed territories.

—--------------------

It looked like Wooyoung was taking his sweet time deciding just what he wanted. You didn’t avoid him anymore. In fact, you two were pretty normal around each other now, occasionally arguing like always, sometimes teaming up to bully one of your friends- just the usual. You were bullying San right now because he seemed to have a few loose memory screws.

“Forget world history, San, you don’t even remember your own life history,” you laughed. “You really don’t remember that time you held a whole debate about butts being what- one?”

“I think he insisted on two,” Wooyoung laughed. “Honestly, I kind of agree.”

“No, we’re not doing this,” Yunho shook his head aggressively. “Look at this-” he raised his hands in the air and you choked on laughter. “One buttcheek and the other- there are two buttcheeks but they belong to one butt-”

“It’s not that deep!” You laughed. “We’ve done this before, so let’s shut up now- there are people watching, and for goodness’ sake, Wooyoung, grab Yunho’s hands- he’s making weird gestures.”

Wooyoung pulled Yunho’s hands down, all of you laughing. You noticed the girl Yunho was interested in watching him from the other end of the room and you kicked his leg from under the table. “Still not asked her to the dance tomorrow?”

Yunho’s eyes went wide in realisation. “I was so busy planning the thing that I forgot I had to attend too!”

San shook his head in disappointment and Wooyoung urged him to go and ask someone out. Yunho looked at the rest of you. “Who are you going with?”

“Yuju,” San said and you raised your brows- that was news. “No, it’s nothing like that,” he laughed. “We just waited too long to ask who we actually wanted to, so we plan to catch their attention tomorrow night.”

“Ah, what interesting lives you’re living,” you sighed dramatically. 

“Who are you going with anyway?” Yunho asked.

“Lost a bet and now I have to accompany him tomorrow.”

San laughed but Yunho seemed to have caught on. “I see… He doesn’t seem too sad about it.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” you challenged. “Any chance to torment me, he happily takes.”

“Eh, come on,” Wooyoung poked your thigh. “It’s not that bad.”

“You tell yourself that,” you said dismissively. “You better not send me a sack tonight.”

“You’d look pretty in a sack though,” Wooyoung said quite seriously.

“Ew,” San got up. “Stop flirting with her every chance you get, Wooyoung.”

“I’m going to ask her,” Yunho got up. “Wish me luck!”

You watched the duo scatter and you glared at Wooyoung. “I’m serious. Don’t send something stupid.”

“I won’t. I’ve got this brilliant, most seductive red dress that I just have to see you in-”

“I’ll tear it to pieces if I think it’s too much,” you promised and he laughed, getting up and purposefully squeezed your shoulder before exiting the room. You froze for a second but then noticed Haeun eyeing you and mouthed an aggressive ‘what?’ before turning to find the girls.

That night, you found a box in your room with a note attached to it. You ignored the note and opened the box, revealing a red, flowy dress and you wowed when you took it to the mirror and saw how good it looked on you. If Wooyoung had chosen it for you personally, he really did have a good eye. You called a maid and wore the dress to see if it needed any alterations, but it was a surprisingly perfect fit save for the shoulders which could be fixed with a stitch.

“Wherever did you find someone who knows exactly what would look good on you?” The maid sighed dreamily. 

“I think he just got lucky,” you laughed.

“I think he knew exactly what he was doing,” she winked at you, finishing the stitching and taking her leave. You sat down with a glass of water and noticed the attached note and considered burning it but then curiosity took the better of you and you opened it-

“The only reason I got this for you is so that I can take it off for you tomorrow night.”

You bit your lip to stifle your smile as you looked up in disbelief, cursing yourself internally at the way your stomach did a flip after reading that. You even considered getting rid of the dress, but it would be such a shame-

And truly, when you wore it and got ready, hair tied messily in a bun with loose tendrils framing the mask on your face, red painted on your lips, you had to admit- Wooyoung had you wrapped around his fingers. He was messing with your mind- no wonder you got so dolled up for him.

So the only thing you could do tonight was to not let him get the better of you. When he knocked on your door, you composed yourself and opened it but all composure broke when he grinned shamelessly.

“You look like a hyena when you smile like that,” you commented, about to step out but he held your wrist and got you both inside so quickly that before you knew it, he had pinned you against the door. 

“You have no idea how crazy you’re making me right now,” he whispered against your ear and you kicked his shin lightly, making him wince as you stepped away.

“Enough of that. We have a ball to attend,” you went to the mirror to look at yourself for the last time. “Wear your mask.”

“I couldn’t tie it properly, so I was hoping you could pin it for me,” he dragged a seat in front of you and sat on it, handing you the mask. You rolled your eyes but grabbed a few pins from the mantle before coming back to assess the situation.

“You should get a haircut,” you said, running your hands through his hair as you tied it in a half pony, letting the bangs from the front loose. 

“First thing when I get home,” he said and you nodded, fixing his mask and asking him if it fit well before tying it and then pinning it with his hair. You were almost done when you noticed him smiling at your reflection in the mirror.

“What?”

“I’m getting… deja vu,” he said and you slapped the back of his neck but he grabbed your wrist and made you face him.

“Wanna do something about this?” He pointed at the still fading bruise on his neck- the one you gave him. 

“What, did you not go around parading it for the past 3 days?” You asked and he scoffed.

“If you want me to exhibit it, then sure,” he nodded. “I could tell people that you gave it to me.”

“Oh, honey,” you grabbed Wooyoung’s chin in your hand and made him look up at you, leaning forward a bit. “No one’s gonna believe that.”

You felt his throat bob as he licked his lips and swallowed and you watched him for a moment too long before making him tilt his head and then you did the unthinkable- you pressed your lips against the faded bruise so now it had the mark of your red lipstick instead.

“That’s better, yeah?” You scoffed before exiting the room, grinning when you heard him shout ‘You’re crazy!’ from the room before he followed you, your grin widening when you saw he hadn’t erased that and that it was going to be visible for the rest of the night.

You entered the ballroom and greeted anyone who recognised you both through the masks, most of them shooting Wooyoung funny looks because of the kiss mark on his neck. Anyone who asked, Wooyoung joked about Yeosang being the one who did it which earned a good laugh. A few moments later, you found your spots at the dance floor where the dances were going to be held before everyone would start partying after the King and Queen would leave.

The first dance was as normal as dancing with Wooyoung could get- occasional teasing comments, you purposely stepping on his toes, him wincing louder than he should, and then you switched partners for the rest of the dances, rotating until the last song where you’d dance a slow one with your actual partner. You got to dance with Seonghwa who had quite a few things to say about your choice of dress but you shut him up when you told him it was from Wooyoung.

“Wooyoung?” He gaped at you. “Why would he?”

“Why would he,” you wondered as well, and then you switched to dance with Yeosang.

“I’m hearing a really sick rumour about me and Wooyoung,” he said as soon as you began dancing and you failed to stifle your smile. “I hope you’ve got nothing to do with the origin of that rumour.”

“Of course not,” you smiled innocently. “That’s Wooyoung’s doing. Shall we murder him together?”

“Let’s,” he agreed, and then you chatted about your plans for your group hangout tomorrow, deciding the menu.

During the next dance with the Prince of Halaland- Haeun’s younger brother Haneul, he introduced himself, you asked him if he was still good friends with Yunho and learned that that was why he was here.

“I know things with my sister are a bit… rocky, but I hope you don’t mind her,” he apologised on her behalf and your heart softened.

“Oh, not at all,” you told him. “We used to be friends, after all, Haeun and I. I know what she feels right now but I’m not going to entertain her until she comes to her senses.”

“At least one of you is being wise about this-”

“I do tease her on purpose sometimes, though,” you winked and he laughed, saying that as friends, you could do that whenever you were going through a rough patch. Finally, you switched for the last dance and found yourself in a grumpy Wooyoung’s arms.

“You were getting really chummy back there,” he commented.

“Are you jealous?” You asked and he nodded enthusiastically, making you laugh. “Well, you don’t own me.”

“Ah,” he sighed. “I wish I did.”

You narrowed your eyes at him through the mask. “You know, I would really like to know what’s going on in your head. What was with that note?”

“Did you keep it safe?” He smiled cheek to cheek.

“I burned it.”

He shook his head. “What are we gonna do about that fiery temper of yours? Well, to make things simpler, Princess, this dress you’re wearing is not helping at all with my newfound desire to… fuck you.”

“Newfound?” You scoffed. “Are you sure that’s new? Because if I begin to think back, I think you’ve always had one screw loose when it concerns me.”

“Hmm… food for thought,” he agreed. “Shall I then entail the things I’d like to do to you tonight?”

“Go ahead, do your worst,” you decided to play along.

“Well,” he twirled you and brought you back in his arms as you rocked to the slow melody just like everyone else. “When this is over, I’m gonna take you to your room and wipe that bloody lipstick off your lips with my own. And then…” he licked his lips and you found his hold on your waist tightening so you curled the hair on the nape of his neck. “Then I’m going to take this dress off and mark you wherever I please.”

“Oh,” you said nonchalantly. “And then?”

“And then,” he shook his head in amusement. “Then I’m going to find out if your pussy is as filthy as your mouth.”

This time the gasp that left was every bit real. “Jung Wooyoung!”

“You asked for it,” he whispered in your ear. “Tonight, I’m going to have my way with you, Princess. I’m going to be the one in control. Tomorrow, though… I could let you do whatever you please to me.”

“I never said I wanted any of this, did I?” You asked.

“You don’t need to,” he brought you closer. “Your body responding to me is indication enough.”

You bit your lips as you felt arousal pool through you and just like that, the final dance was over and the partners bowed to each other. Wooyoung said that he would find you later and dispersed in the crowd and you made your way to the drinks because there was no way you could do this without being a little high.

The rest of the night went by chatting with your friends and eating and laughing, a blur until you spotted Wooyoung waving at you from the door and calling you to join him. 

“It’s past midnight, but it doesn’t look like this party is gonna end anytime soon,” he said. “So how about you and I… take our leave?”

“What do you really plan to do?” You poked his chest and Wooyoung raised a brow.

“Are you… drunk?”

“Maybe a little,” you sighed. “I can’t do this if I’m sober.”

“Oh, that says a lot about you,” Wooyoung scoffed. “I know you’re not drunk, just a little tipsy. And now I know you want to do this as much as I do. And if you think you can’t do it when sober…” he leaned in, “That means I must have quite an effect on you.”

“Right, maybe, and partly wrong,” you confirmed, taking his arm and pretending he was escorting you to your room like a decent human to anyone who was passing by. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but hold that thought- I think I like where we’re going. No strings attached though. Three months here, Wooyoung. Then we’re just like we were before, is that a deal?”

“Hmm… that’s a deal. But I must place a bet on that,” Wooyoung opened the door of your room and you stepped inside, watching him shut the door and then take off his mask. “You’ll be begging me to stay when it’s time to go back.”

“Oh, how highly you think of yourself. Shouldn’t it be the other way round?” You smirked and he drew closer, pulling the string of your mask so it fell in his hands and he discarded it with his own. You unclasped the fancy hook of his coat and started unbuttoning it. “I think… I think you’re gonna actually fall for me before our time here is over.”

Wooyoung made an impressed face. “Make me fall for you then. Try your best.”

“Wow, I thought you were not going to be submissive tonight- you really can’t make up your mind, can you-”

Wooyoung cupped your face in his hands, scanning it ever so slowly and you mouthed ‘what?’. He only shook his head, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“I don’t understand how we got here, but I really like what I see right now, y/n.”

The only sound present was the cackling of the fireplace and the sound of your breaths mingling as he drew a bit closer, joining his forehead with you. “If it’s too much, if you want to stop, tell me to stop, okay? Because I don’t think I can hold back once you give me the heads-up.”

You sighed. “I’m going to pretend that I’m drunk and I’m letting you do this, okay?” 

You didn’t wait for his response but made the first move, capturing his lips in a kiss and he eagerly responded, your lips fitting with each other like it was supposed to have happened that way. You shrugged his coat off, leaving him in his black button up shirt and took a step forward so he could hold you against him because you wanted to feel every bit of him as much as he wanted to. He drew apart, picking you up effortlessly and you laughed a bit as he placed you on the table and hastily put your stray hair away from your face as he kissed you again.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, not feeling much through all the layers your dress had. Wooyoung seemed to have recognised the problem and let one hand travel to your back to figure out what to do while he put his tongue in your mouth and you exchanged heated, wet kisses, the lewd sound of it filling the room because you both knew you were enjoying that way too much. You pushed him back and muttered, “The fucking dress you chose, Wooyoung.”

He laughed, peeking back and finding the hidden zip, glancing at you once before sliding it down and down. You held on to his neck as you rose up a little so he could drag it down, leaving you in-

“Wow,” he breathed, admiring the black lace undergarments that you wore on purpose tonight.

“Like what you see?” You dragged your heels up his leg. “You, shirt off, now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he winked, unbuttoning his shirt and putting his toned chest on display, about to take it off but you told him to leave it, bringing him back where he belonged- in your arms, legs wrapped around his waist and this time he bent you down as he kissed so passionately that you moaned loudly and tugged at his hair.

“Enough of that,” he muttered, “I’ve got other plans. Shall we take this to bed?”

“I think this is more… exciting,” you tilted your head, kissing the mark on his neck that you had left. “I think I should do this everyday so everyone knows who you belong to.”

“Oh?” He caressed your cheek. “I think everyone believes that’s Yeosang-”

“Shh…” you kissed his neck again, making him chuckle. “So. You’ve successfully managed to wipe off my lipstick and take my dress off. What’s next?”

“Let’s see…” he ran his hands down your shoulders, tracing your waist next and you let him run his hands everywhere on your body as if he was memorising it himself, engraving your curves in his mind. He began at the same spot on your neck, biting it, his hands going to your waist and sliding to hook your panties in his thumbs that he pulled up to make you moan. He let you guide his face wherever you wanted him, let you guide him down so he could plant another hickey on your chest, and then he was trailing kisses down your waist and you stifled your groans until he reached dangerously down and you gasped.

“I’m going to ruin you tonight, you hear me?” He promised and you nodded as he went up to kiss you again while his fingers found their way under your panties and slid along your wet folds once, twice and then thrice- but he was not letting you breathe as he kissed you as well. Your legs were weak and apart now, one hand on his shoulder for support while the other moved around helplessly. 

“What’s got you so wet for me, Princess?” he muttered as he broke the kiss and trailed his lips to your ears, nibbling at them. “Want me so bad? Huh?”

“Shut up,” you muttered and he stopped right there.

“Beg for it, and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“Wooyoung-”

“I said, beg for it.”

You shut your eyes in defeat, feeling his finger still hovering over your painfully throbbing clit. “Please, Wooyoung, please. Do whatever you want.”

“Now that’s a good girl,” he chuckled, kissing your lips and then straightening, pinning your neck to the table with one hand while he finger fucked you and your mouth parted for air as you locked eyes with him- his gaze alone was making you breathless but the way he watched you while he slid his finger inside and out of you? It was mad.

“So fucking tight,” he slid another finger and you writhed under him as best as you could when he had you pinned down. “Never been fucked, have you?”

“I have,” you managed to say, “But…”

“Not like this, huh?” His voice was deep and he squeezed your neck a little when he found out exactly how to bring you to your high- his thumb rubbing your clit as his fingers teased your insides. He watched you carefully and just when it looked like you couldn’t take it anymore, he took his fingers out, examining them before making you look at him as he licked them clean and you, surprisingly enough, found it arousing enough to shiver entirely.

“Mmm, you taste better than I expected,” he commented, sliding your panties off in a second and admiring your swollen area. “So ready for me, aren’t you?”

“Please, just do something,” you whined shamelessly and he chuckled, spreading your legs apart as much as you could and blowing on your clit, making you gasp out loud, later horrified by the sound that came out of you as he laughed. “You’re gonna regret this-”

“Tomorrow, Princess,” he promised. “Tonight, it’s my turn,” he said, diving right in and planting a kiss on your clit, making you want to clench your thighs but his grip on your legs was too strong for that, so you told him to wait and got up a little.

“I want… to watch you,” you admitted. “Grab me a cushion.”

“Wow, okay, easy there,” he teased though his hard-on revealed just how much that turned him on. He made sure you were comfortable and then kissed you on your mouth until you tasted yourself on him before he got on his knees for you, just like you had wanted to, and began to kiss your inner thighs, trailing his lips to your core and practically making out with it before he started with his tongue sliding inside you, feeding on your moans as he ate you out. You tugged at his hair and when his nose brushed your clit, you almost screamed.

“Just… just like that,” you told him and he purposely brushed his nose against your clit again before continuing to lick your arousal like he wouldn’t get to ever again, his grip on your legs tightening so much you were sure they would leave a mark of their own. He found his pace, tongue sliding once inside you and then up your folds, caught you shivering and repeated that until you were moaning so loudly anyone passing by could hear. The knot in your stomach built and tightened at an uncontrollable pace and you pulled Wooyoung even closer to you which was when he sucked your clit and you reached the climax, shuddering violently as he finished his ministrations, leaving you feeling like you were on cloud nine and could never find your way back.

“I never thought…” he began, wiping his mouth, “that this could be so fulfilling.”

You didn’t respond, simply tried to catch your breath and get your brain to work again. Wooyoung started trailing kisses until he reached your face and made you look at him. “I was good, wasn’t I?”

“You… are such a slut,” you managed to say and he laughed out loud, kissing you once. 

“You love that and you know it,” he patted your cheek, picking you up and taking you to your bed, going through your wardrobe and picking out a green nightgown. You tossed your bra away and he raised a brow- he hadn’t seen that yet.

“Like what you see, huh?” You said tiredly. “Come here.”

He tossed the gown on the bed and you made him lie down, sliding his pants down while he looked confused. You simply said, “You look like you need it too. Now be a good little boy and let me do this.”

He chuckled and you pressed his hard bulge, earning a moan instantly which made you smile. You slid his boxers down, revealing his hard length and suddenly, you were sure you could go for a much intense second round but you held yourself back- not tonight. Not now. So you rubbed your hands up and down his length, making his eyes roll back with pleasure and you kissed the tip of it, licking down a stripe and then jerking him off, his breathy moans filling the silence of the room. You made him watch you please him until he came all over himself. 

“I’m a good girl, alright?” You smirked as you grabbed your discarded panty and wiped his cum off of his stomach, making him groan and laugh. “I clean up well.”

“You’re too much,” he shook his head. “You… you’re too much for me.”

“Please, you have seen nothing yet,” you promised, getting on top of him and kissing him deeply, making his length rest between your parted folds and you dared to grind once, the both of you moaning. “You… have seen nothing yet, Wooyoung.”

With a final kiss, you wore your nightgown and he grabbed his boxers, about to get up but you grabbed his arm. “You can sleep here, you know.”

“I don’t think I can hold myself back if I do,” he shook his head, getting up and wearing the rest of his clothes. “Maybe next time… I might.”

You smiled at that and he kissed your forehead before telling you to get some sleep, but you lay lovestruck all night.

—----------------------------

“That’s it. I’m going home. Pack your stuff, Hongjoong and Seonghwa-”

Wooyoung laughed at that and you glared at him. He raised his hands in surrender. “What? I’m only offering to help!”

“He’s mocking me, don’t you see?” You turned to your Right Hand and Advisor. “He purposefully announces that I am avoiding horse-riding, mentioning nothing of my injury so everyone would think I’m scared of horses- which I am, a little, also thanks to this brat!”

“Oh, come on, are you still sour about that one time? We were 13!”

You were 13, visiting Wooyoung. That was probably the summer your relationship started changing from inseparable friends to frenemies, mostly because Wooyoung was always pranking you and teasing you about something. He had played a prank with a horse, making you believe the horse had gone rogue and you almost thought you would die. He got a beating from his mother after that incident but that didn’t stop him from being a smug ass and joking about it every now and then.

You were a bit traumatised after that and it always took you a while to get used to horses before you’d feel comfortable again. But this time, you really had your ankle injury as an excuse to avoid riding, though now your ankle was fully healed and it was about time you went back…

“I’ll take my time getting comfortable with the horses. I don’t trust him. I’m not taking up his offer, please translate it to him because he seems to not be understanding anything I’ve said so far.”

Seonghwa groaned loudly. “You both still act like you’re 13. Wooyoung, please stop being a jerk about this. And y/n… stop overreacting. If anyone else had offered you the same thing, you would have accepted.”

“Yes, I would have, but this is Wooyoung!” You pointed at him and even Hongjoong started laughing along with Wooyoung. “I cannot trust him!”

“Really?” Wooyoung raised a brow. “You don’t trust me with this, but you trust me enough to do other things-”

“Shut up,” you glared at him, looking at Seonghwa. “What can I do to get him off my back?”

“I’ll join, okay?” Seonghwa got up. “If Wooyoung tries anything funny I’ll stop him.”

“Does it have to be him?” You groaned.

“Honestly, you two need to work out your differences- you’re both adults now,” Hongjoong began and you almost cried. Your own court was ganging up on you. “I don’t get you two. One moment you’re trying to kill each other and the next…”

You met Wooyoung’s eyes and he passed you a flirty gaze before winking, and you stifled a smile. Hongjoong seemed to have caught that- “See! I don’t know what’s wrong with you two. What do you say, Seonghwa? They look chummy enough to do this together, let’s leave them be.”

“Wait, what did I do?” You laughed but Hongjoong and Seonghwa weren’t having any of it.

“They’re kids, both of them. You, Princess, are going to be riding a horse by yourself by the end of this session, otherwise I’ll make you do my paperwork for a week.”

You passed Seonghwa a death glare before asking Wooyoung to lead the way, ignoring how the two snickered behind your back. Wooyoung was clearly enjoying it but he promised to be serious.

And surprisingly, he was serious. He made you feel out the horse, made you get comfortable with it until you could pet it, and then he made you walk it with you. You were squirming most of the time but started to feel comfortable after about half an hour, which was when he helped you up. You winced a little as you settled in front of him on the horse.

“What’s wrong? Ankle still hurts?” He asked.

“Just wrong footing, it’s okay,” you told him and he patted your thigh.

“You should be more careful, y/n. How did you get it injured in the first place?”

“Aw, are you worried?” You turned and scratched his chin, making him shut his eyes in annoyance. “Yeah, well, I fell from the stairs.”

“So clumsy,” he shook his head. “You should take good care of your body, okay?”

You shrugged, holding the reins and he put his hands on yours, ready to ride. He rested his chin on your shoulder, whispering, “What do you say I give you a foot massage tonight?”

“That won’t be necessary, thank you very much,” you answered politely and he laughed, kissing your neck before drawing back and you gasped-

“Not in public!”

“Come on, I do that to everyone, no one cares,” he simply said and you shrugged- that was true.

“Do you do that to everyone too?” You asked as you rode at a slow pace.

“What?” Wooyoung’s teasing tone was an indication that he understood exactly what you meant.

“Whatever you’ve been doing with me lately,” you swallowed. “Do you mess around?”

“Nope,” he promised. “Only you.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach, stifling your smile. “Better be only me while we’re… together?”

“Together,” he squeezed your hands before tightening the reins so the horse increased its pace. “How are you feeling?”

“What?” You asked after a moment.

“About the horse. Are you okay?”

You realised you’d been too busy feeling Wooyoung’s body against you, his hands on yours, his words and breath in your ear, his face against your side that you’d totally forgotten about the horse and your little fears about messing up.

“I- I’m okay, surprisingly.”

“I knew I’d make a good distraction,” Wooyoung said proudly.

“You do actually,” you laughed. “I don’t think I’m distracted enough though.”

“Oh?” Wooyoung drew closer so the rocking of the horse made you fall in a rhythmic movement with his body. “How about now?”

“I think… I’d need aftercare,” you teased and he chuckled deeply.

“Do you flirt like this with anyone?”

“Only you,” you said and he shook his head, speechless for once.

As promised, once you were all done with the horse-riding and you were following the others to dinner, falling behind as you looked around for Yuju, Wooyoung grabbed your arm and put a finger on his lips to tell you to stay quiet, taking you around the corridors until he tried one of the doors and found a small storage room, taking you in and shutting the door, immediately cupping your face and kissing you as if it was his last time. Your knees went weak in shock and you held on to him as you kissed him back, snaking your arms around his neck.

“God, I missed your mouth,” he pecked your lips. “I missed you.”

You hmm-ed against his neck, making him exhale deeply. You pecked his neck and then caressed his face. “I’ve been aching for you, Wooyoung.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he laughed in defeat. “What do you want me to do?”

You kissed him in answer and his hands went to slide under your blouse, holding your bare waist as you explored each other’s mouths, not even bothering to stay quiet. His thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties and you gasped in his mouth, shaking your head.

“Not now- we’ll be late for dinner. Everyone will notice.”

“Tonight then?” He asked.

“I’m sleeping with Yuju tonight. Tomorrow night?”

“I have to go to town tomorrow night with Yunho,” he said and you groaned. “I’ll find you, though. Tomorrow.”

You nodded, kissing him one last time before exiting first and making up the excuse of trying to find Yuju when your friends asked why you were late. Wooyoung arrived a few moments later and you ate dinner without meeting eyes, the remnants of desire still getting the better of you both.

That night, Yuju came over to your room and you both caught up on your lives now that you two finally had time alone. You two were eating chocolates on the bed as you talked about the flings back home, politics, family, and everything. She was one of your oldest friends so it always felt extremely comfortable with her. You were both bare with each other.

“So,” you shifted so you were lying down on your stomach like Yuju. “Any progress with Seonghwa?”

“No, but…” she smiled and hid her face and you poked her arm.

“But what? Why are you shy all of a sudden?”

“I don’t think I’m into Seonghwa anymore,” Yuju admitted, putting her hands on her cheeks.

“And my plan to get Seonghwa hitched fails yet again,” you sighed. “You look like you have more to tell.”

“Make a guess, y/n.”

You paused, your past conversations replaying in your head and you gasped. “You! You hooked up with San, didn’t you!”

Yuju laughed and you wowed in disbelief, asking what exactly happened. She sighed happily. “We were pursuing other people, teaming up to make them jealous. But during the ball, we never left each other’s side. We were too busy with each other, and before we knew it, the ball ended. He came to drop me to my room, and somehow… We ended up making out-”

“Ew! That’s cute but disgusting.”

“We were drunk,” Yuju laughed, slapping your arm. “But he… oh my god, y/n, I’ve never been kissed better. You need to get San to kiss you once because he-”

“Yuju, shut up!” You groaned. 

“And then we sat on the floor all night talking and making out. We passed out I don’t know when, but we woke up in each other’s arms then, pretty sober. I guess we couldn’t go back from there…”

“So you two are now an actual thing?” You asked and Yuju shrugged. 

“Maybe. We haven’t put a name to it but he asked me out on a date this weekend so I guess… we might be?”

“Wow, you’re living the life, huh?” You smiled. You were happy for them, though this was the most unexpected outcome. “You guys actually make a cute couple, but I’ll need a few days to process this-”

“I know,” she laughed. “It really was unexpected for us too. Anyways, enough about me. Tell me who you’re seeing these days because you’ve been glowing lately.”

“Really?” You frowned. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Lies,” she sang. “You reek of love.”

You made a face but couldn’t stifle your smile and Yuju repeatedly poked you on your stomach until you gave in. “Okay, okay. Wooyoung and I may have, uh…” you tried to find a word but couldn’t. “We, uh… we’re not dating, hell no. But we-”

“You hooked up with Wooyoung!” Yuju’s scream, you were pretty sure, could be heard for miles. You tried to shut her up but she was dancing around the room.

“I fucking knew it!” She laughed in disbelief. “I knew there was no way you weren’t fucking each other. You’d be blind if you haven’t noticed how Wooyoung looks at you-”

“He’s a pervert, of course he looks at me like that-”

“No, you don’t see, y/n,” Yuju shook her head knowingly. “I know it when a man is in love, and I know that you both would rather die than admit you’re in love, but everyone knows it, you hear me? Everyone sees it.”

“No they don’t,” you frowned.

“Yes, they’re all pretty sure you have something going on.”

“That’s old news though,” you said. “People always thought there was something between me and Wooyoung even when there was nothing but pure hate.”

“But how do you feel about him now?” Yuju wiggled her brows.

You sighed deeply, sitting and drawing your knees to your chest. “I don’t know, actually. We’re only taking advantage of each other, it’s nothing like that, but… I’ve never felt so… alive, Yuju. He brings out a different person in me- one that even I don’t know existed.”

“Oh?” Yuju raised her brows. “Tell me more.”

“Well,” you thought about it. “He just… makes me feel more confident in myself. I don’t know if he’s pretending to or if it’s real but he makes me feel like a fucking queen which is funny because in public we miss no chance to humiliate each other, but when we’re alone… even when we’re not hooking up which is pretty recent by the way, he just always says or does something that makes me confused.”

“It sounds like you didn’t really get that part right. It doesn’t sound like you’re actually taking advantage of each other.”

“We’re only hooking up while we’re here, because we’re both lonely.”

“Yeah, whatever helps you both sleep at night,” Yuju dismissed. “So the hickey was from him, right?”

You passed her a side-eye before nodding. “I was so confused when he did that to me. He made me watch it. Like we were having a cute platonic moment and suddenly he does something like that and expects me to be the same? And then he’s driving me insane so I decided to get revenge, and one thing led to another and somehow, we’re here.”

“Damn,” Yuju breathed. “You’ll figure it out soon, I hope, but I don’t think you can go back from that.”

“I know, that’s what’s eating me up,” you admitted. “I don’t think I can go back from this, but…” you took a deep breath. “It’s only the beginning. I’ll think about that later.”

“Yeah, because right now you two are horny and are pretending to not be in love as you satisfy each other. What a great idea, especially when you two are always at each other’s throats!” Yuju laughed. “Must call for some wild sex-”

“Shut up,” you laughed, “Wait till you get it done with San. I can’t wait until he finds out what a hoe you can be.”

Yuju winked at you. “He’s not such a saint himself.”

“Really?” You frowned. “He acts like a ball of cloud so I don’t know…”

“He’s a monster-”

“Okay, that’s your cue to shut up,” you put your hands over your ears. “I want to keep my clean image of San intact, thank you very much.”

—-------------------------

You were dreaming.

The tension from your shoulders was relaxing, and all your worries were fading away, being kissed away, small pecks across whatever skin was exposed through your camisole. You were sleeping on clouds so you shifted, smiling to yourself, and the hands running across your arms were warm-

You gasped as you opened your eyes, getting up and getting your eyes to adjust to the darkness as you looked at the body beside you-

“I’m sorry, did I scare you?” Wooyoung’s low voice asked, putting a worried hand over your shoulder. “I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay,” you told him, putting your hair away from your face. “Fuck, I thought I was dreaming. When- how did you get here?”

“I may have stolen some keys…”

You started laughing at that after a moment and it looked like that made Wooyoung relax too. He pulled you closer in a hug, cradling your body. “I’m sorry that I scared you. I was only going to sleep next to you so I was giving you a few goodnight kisses. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

This. Moments like this when you wondered if it would actually be so bad if you and Wooyoung got together. And this wasn’t the first time- even when you were friends- or frenemies, as everyone called you, you had these moments a lot, which was how you were able to tolerate Wooyoung. Yes, he was a menace, but he was also the most caring, loving person you knew.

You wrapped your arms around his waist. “It’s okay, Woo. You should have woken me up, I was waiting for you.”

“Really?” He looked at you, only the full moon illuminating the room. “You waited for me?”

“You told me to, dumbass,” you slapped his chest. “What time is it anyway?”

“Around 2,” he told you and you nodded, shifting in his lap. “You wanna go back to sleep?”

Your stomach did a somersault. “Why waste the night sleeping?”

Wooyoung tilted his head as he looked down at you, one arm under you. He brought his hand to caress your face, looking at you with an indecipherable look in his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked- there was clearly something eating him up but he shook his head before joining his lips with yours in the most slowest, sensual kiss you had ever received. He made you lie down on the bed as he continued to kiss you, slow and steady, one hand still caressing your face while the other traced your body. You found yourself lost in that pleasure- you never knew only kissing like this could make you feel so… bare. He broke apart, peppering kisses all over your face and making you giggle, then pecking your lips multiple times, never looking away from your eyes.

“Wooyoung,” you breathed. “You’re being… different.”

“Do you not like it?” He asked, waiting for your response and you frowned at how he wasn’t even teasing you about it.

“I like it,” you admitted. “Please continue.”

He smiled and got back to kissing you, trailing his lips down your neck and planting kisses there as well. You made a decision then- to not question Wooyoung. To let him be rough with you when he wanted, to let him be this soft with you even though it was making it feel like you two weren’t simply just hooking up for the heck of it, but-

Making love. That’s what it was right now, as Wooyoung took off your camisole, leaving your upper body bare. He gently ran his hands over your waist, up to your chest, palming your breasts before going down on one and kissing it, and then the other, playing with you until you moaned out loud enough to his liking. You pushed him away to take off his shirt as well, running your own hands down his chest, tracing his sculpted muscles before kissing him again and then your tongues were exploring each other’s mouth as things picked up a pace and you tugged at his hair a bit roughly, making him groan into the kiss.

“I love it when you do that to me,” he whispered in your ear, nibbling at your earlobe before trailing kisses down your neck, licking and sucking on his way down to your waist, uneven moans escaping your mouth which just seemed to please him further. He pushed the sheets away, taking off your panties and slowly ran his hands up and down your thighs, making you writhe under his touch. 

“You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he breathed against your left thigh, trailing kisses up until he reached your core and you gasped when he planted a kiss on your swollen clit before licking a stripe up your wet folds, scoffing at how wet you were just from kissing alone. “Do I make you feel so good? That you’re soaked like this?”

You bit your lips at the sudden change in his tone and he didn’t wait for your answer as he started playing with your clit using his thumb, his tongue diving right in and you let out a strangled breath, struggling to keep your thighs apart for him but then ditching the idea when he got rougher, sliding a finger in you and you clenched your eyes shut at the overwhelming sensation of the combination. He was soon sliding a second finger, glancing at you to make sure you were okay, diving deeper.

“So tight for me, aren’t you?” He got closer to your face, grabbing your chin. “You still haven’t answered my question, sweetheart.”

“What… question?” You asked, momentarily pausing when he shifted his fingers in you and started going at a slower pace, also slowing your approaching high.

“How do I make you feel?” He asked again, running his thumb over your lips and pressing against your clit with his thumb.

“So… good,” you breathed, overthrown by the action. “Please, I’m close-”

“Then tell me exactly how I make you feel,” he asked in a low voice.

“You’re driving me insane,” you told him, “But I bet you can see that too.”

He smiled in satisfaction, kissing you deeply as he started rubbing your clit in circles, the feeling of that and his fingers pumping in and out of you finally making you reach your climax and you moaned in the kiss as you squirmed, wearing out the high. He drew apart, examining the mess you had made on his hands and shaking his head at it before he licked them clean and then-

Then put his fingers in your mouth. “How do you like that? Do you like tasting yourself on me?”

You sucked them clean and breathed. “You’re really loving this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I’m nowhere near done yet,” he promised and that quickly, a new wave of arousal spread through your body. You brought him down with you and shifted positions, getting on top of him and then slowing down pace-

If he had confused you, so could you. So you forgot everything and started kissing him gently, slowly, like he had. You found him motionless for a few moments, only kissing you back before he brought his hands to your waist, slowly caressing the skin as he let you kiss him for however long you liked.

You pulled at his lower lip before drawing back, kissing every place you liked- his forehead, the mole under his eye, the tip of his nose, his Adam's apple- that earned a groan and you started to grind on him, feeling his very hard bulge through his pants. 

“What would you like to do tonight?” You asked him as you rode him at a steady pace. “Tell me how you want me tonight, Wooyoung. I’ll let you do anything.”

“Anything?” He asked, running his hands across your shoulders.

“Anything,” you nodded, pecking his chin. “Do you want to feel yourself inside me?”

Wooyoung shut his eyes at that, smiling like an idiot. “I didn’t think that’s how you’d approach that topic.”

“It’s about time, though,” you unbuckled his pants. “So? Want me to ride you?”

“I don’t know if we can-”

“I mean… I’m on contraceptives. I could let you… fuck me raw.”

“Oh god,” he groaned, getting up and capturing your mouth in a heated kiss, drawing apart. “Can I?”

You nodded, helping him take off his pants and underwear in one motion, his hard length free now. You shifted so he could take care of it and he understood, getting on top of you and positioning himself at your entrance, the feeling of his cock rubbing against your folds already making you feel a rush inside yourself. You threw your head back and groaned as he entered slowly, making sure you were okay, caressing your skin as he fully entered you, experimentally moving inside you-

“Gosh, you’re so fucking tight, y/n,” he groaned with you. “This good?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, “Let me get on top of you.”

“As you wish,” he shifted your positions and you felt fuller, grinning at the sensation. Wooyoung ran his hands up and down your thighs, squeezing them as you started riding him, his eyes watching you rock against him, loving the way you bounced on top of him, your moans mingling as you found your pace. He sat up a little, putting his arms around you as if he could bring you closer, kissing you again and you couldn’t get enough of the feeling- skin on skin, nothing keeping you apart. 

“I love this so much,” you breathed, your legs keeping him tucked close as you rocked slowly. “I love this so fucking much, Wooyoung.”

“Me too,” he admitted. “I’ve never felt so good, you’re…” he kissed you. “Incredible.”

You wanted to tell him more. You wanted to tell him to stop. You wanted to tell him that you always wanted to feel like this, that you wished this would never end, but you also wanted to tell him to stop saying he never felt like this, that you were incredible, because you couldn’t take it. He seemed to have understood that, though.

“What’s holding us back, y/n?” he dared ask.

“I don’t know,” you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Just… right now, just ruin me and then hold me in your arms for the rest of the night. Can you do that?”

He kissed you in answer, shifting again so he was back to being on top of you, steadily pumping in and out of you as you kissed, as he wiped the tears that left your eyes. Your kisses got sloppier as you both approached your highs, moans louder, hands wilder as they explored each other, and when you finally reached your climax together-

It was epic. There was no feeling to describe it- the feeling of his body quivering on top of you, arching against each other, his moans and yours ringing in the air, every nerve in your body reaching a euphoric high as warmth filled you- you thought you could die from pleasure, that’s how intense it was. He rocked in you unsteadily as you both finished before falling on top of you and you held him close, breathless.

There was no need for words, not anymore. You shifted so you were half on top of him when he pulled out, drawing the covers on top of you both. You drew his hair away from his face, kissing his forehead and pecking one of his eyelids before joining his forehead with yours. He caressed your face ever so lovingly, kissing you once before drawing apart and continuing to caress your cheekbone.

The two of you, in each other’s arms, watched each other, sure affirmations passed in the way you caressed each other’s skin or kissed until you fell asleep.

—-------------------------

Something seemed to have changed between the two of you ever since that night, and you weren’t sure if it was for the better or worse.

Wooyoung was still, well, Wooyoung. He got worse at times with teasing you in public or making fun of you until you cursed him out loud in front of everyone, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. 

It was what you two did in private that was different.

He passed up no opportunity to get you alone and kiss you, at least, or indulge you in some dry humping. Those stolen moments, though, were nothing compared to what was going on at night time.

At first, he had been a bit distant, but then you, during one of your makeout sessions, joked about how he was so gentle that night that you wondered if someone had possessed him. You told him that you had heard a rumour that even San could be a monster in bed-

“That’s who you suggested, wasn’t it?” You recalled and Wooyoung’s gaze got hard. “I distinctly remember you telling me San would make a good suitor. Maybe I should consider-”

He obviously had no idea that you were joking and San was now with your best friend, but you wondered if it was only jealousy when he fucked you like no tomorrow, on the floor. He was rough, he was filthy, and he made you come more times in a span of an hour then you could count, making you almost cry by the end of it, but when he rocked inside of your oversensitive walls to approach your almost-there climax, he had the audacity to choke you when you came, making it more intense than it had to be as you finally cried through it.

He breathed harshly in your ear. “You’re mine. You hear me?”

“I’m yours,” you answered, squeezing his arm.

“Say it louder.”

“I’m yours,” you said with surety and he finally came inside you, collapsing beside you. 

Moments like those made you wonder where you two stood. You decided to ask him if he ever called you ‘his’ again, but he didn’t. Not again. You two kissed, fucked roughly, sometimes lovingly, but he never called you his again.

And with each passing day, that made the hole in your heart bigger.

Had you started something you couldn’t handle? Did you take him easy because he was Wooyoung, the friend you loved and hated at the same time? Did you think you wouldn’t fall for him if you were mean to him? 

Because you were falling for him-

No. You had fallen for him long ago. Maybe before you two ever kissed. 

But it was Wooyoung. You never knew what was going through his head, so you resorted to being mean to him. If your feelings were one-sided, he would never let you live it down. Perhaps you realised that ages ago and put this wall between you as your defence mechanism. He had you wrapped around his fingers all along, yet you never noticed until it was too late-

Until you experienced what it would be like to be loved by Wooyoung- if you could call what he did ‘love’- he would find your eyes from across the room and share a smile, have your back whenever Haeun or someone else bullied you (mostly because he claimed only he was allowed to bully you), look at you with an intensity that made you fold in yourself, kissed you like he needed it, held you as if you could break, as if he never wanted to let you go, and worshipped your body as he made love to you. 

You realised then, that if things stayed the same and you two parted just like this, you’d never be able to move on. You needed to let him know some way, but you also needed to find out what he felt, because it was mostly his fault for making you feel so confused. If he had simply only come to fuck you and leave, you would have understood. You would have known his only goal was to satiate his somewhat questionable desires so you’d do the same. You’d perhaps hate him more by the end of it, but since he was almost acting like he was actually your boyfriend now? He needed to be responsible for it.

Two months were nearing their end just like that. You looked up at the sky and sighed- you had chosen this spot on the roof to get some air as you sorted your thoughts out. There was another secret passageway that you accessed to get to the roof- one that Yunho told you of years ago. You had asked him a few days ago if going to the roof was still safe, which was how you found yourself here tonight, the cool breeze relaxing you as you stretched-

You heard footsteps behind you and you turned, breaking into a smile. “Think of the devil.”

“I thought you’d be here,” Yunho said, sitting beside you on the bench. “Thinking about me?”

“I was wondering when you’d come find me here,” you admitted. “It’s been a while since we caught up, right?”

“Yeah, I really don’t get time to breathe these days,” he admitted, laughing. “My idea to call everyone here was good but I didn’t know it’d be this tiring.”

“Well, let’s hope you get to be the guest next summer instead of the host,” you smiled. “It’s really fun here though. Are you enjoying it?”

“Oh, I am,” he nodded enthusiastically. “There is a lot going on here.”

“Sure is,” you scoffed, knowing he was referring to the latest news. “You were right about someone going back engaged. Just never thought it’d be San of all the people.”

“Yeah,” he whistled. “I hope their parents are as enthusiastic about this idea as they are.”

“I hope so too. I hope it’s not just something they’re feeling in… the moment. Yuju’s not the type though, and neither is San.”

“What about you? Found a suitor yet?” He wiggled his brows. 

“Is that what we came here for? To find partners? You should have said in your letter ‘Matchmaking Service’ then- and what about you?”

Yunho grinned at what you said. “Me? I’m still a loner.”

“That’s what I’m asking, you idiot. Why are you still a loner? I thought she was interested in you?”

“She wasn’t serious about this. I don’t do flings,” he admitted and you felt a pang in your chest but also felt sorry for him.

“What’s her name? I’m going to kill her for breaking your heart first thing tomorrow-”

“No,” he laughed loudly. “I’m good. No hearts broken here. You, though, look like you just broke up without getting in a relationship.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What do you know?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head innocently.

“Come on, spill. You can’t lie to me, Yunho, you know that.”

Yunho considered for a moment. “I don’t know much. All I know is Wooyoung drunk-cried and kept calling your name.”

“Wait, Wooyoung got drunk? That’s more surprising than him crying.”

“I know,” he sighed. “You know he’s always in his senses when he’s drunk, right? He only pretends to be drunk to tease you. But this time, it was just him and me. He actually got drunk. He didn’t say anything else so I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but he was a mess, y/n.”

Your heart sank as you processed what he had said. Why would Wooyoung be a mess? Was it just because he wanted to be with you because he was drunk, or…

“Are you going to tell me anything? Because I know for a fact something happened between you two before Wooyoung became a drunken mess.”

“Really? How?”

“You two are not the best actors,” he said and you pursed your lips in shame. “Maybe no one else has noticed but honestly? Not subtle at all.”

You scoffed at that. “That’s on Wooyoung. He’s shameless.”

“You look pretty lovestruck when you think he’s not watching,” Yunho said and you sighed.

“Okay, yeah. We’re… having a fling, if you can call it that-”

“Damn, not what I expected.”

“Yeah, whatever. Problem is… I may have caught feelings for him. And now I’m realising I’ve had feelings for him from way before.”

“You could have asked me, I would have confirmed it for you,” Yunho laughed. “You’ve always looked at Wooyoung differently, y/n, whether you admit it or not-”

“That’s because he’s a menace-”

“And he also treats you differently than the rest of us- or any of us, for that matter,” Yunho added and you shut up. “You’re both too hotheaded, egotistic to ever admit you could genuinely like each other. But… I think now’s a good time.”

“Well, I’m not the one who’s doing that,” you raised your hands in surrender. “And you can tell Wooyoung that he can stop being a drunken mess, man up and talk to me about it. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I’ll convey the message,” Yunho nodded. “I hope everything sorts out. It’s be weird if you two got awkward after this.”

“Yeah,” you sighed again. “It’d be strange.”

“Because,” Yunho began, “You two always looked like you could kill each other one second and make out the next. Now it’s different because you look like you could do both of those at the same time.”

You laughed at that. “I really could. I should make up my mind, huh?”

Two days later, Wooyoung was in your room, roaming around and moving everything from its place subtly to annoy you as you finished writing and signing some important documents from back home. You signed the last one and took a deep breath, arranging everything before looking at Wooyoung from where you were sitting, currently poking at the fire.

“You seem to be tired.”

“I’m not,” Wooyoung turned to you. “What makes you think so?”

“You’re not talking,” you pointed out and he gaped at you more in surprise that you could notice that.

“Not tired,” he repeated, “just thinking about some stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“You know,” he tossed the poker away, “to keep myself from fucking you right on this table with all these ‘important documents’ under you. Maybe I could sign on your body too. Seal it with a stamp, eh?”

It was more Wooyoung’s dark gaze than his words that made you bite your lips and look away. “Shut up.”

“No, really,” he was smiling as he came closer. “I could do that right now too.”

It was amazing how quickly you became aroused when he said stuff like this. 

One moment you were sitting, and the next?

You were on that very table where he had done something like this for the first time. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, keeping him locked to your body as you put your arms around his neck, his hands holding your neck and angling you better as you exchanged open mouthed kisses, not caring how much sound you were making because the sound of your wet kisses made you both crazy.

“Oh god,” you moaned into his mouth. “You’re so good to me, baby.”

“You like when I do this?” He asked, kissing your neck just like he had the first time and you gasped, clenching his hair in your fist as he marked you, making you squirm underneath him. He broke apart to admire his work, smiling proudly and you slapped his arm.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you said.

“Like what?”

“Just… shut up and kiss me,” you started unbuttoning his shirt and he obeyed, kissing you, letting you take off his shirt and run your hands all over his toned body, let you put a hand in his pants and palm his cock as your kisses got more heated and deeper, let you take off his pants which was when he broke apart to slide the dress off of you as well, laughing as you undressed in a hurry until nothing but air kept you apart.

You spread your arms and he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, nuzzling the space sweetly as you both rocked back and forth. 

Another moment that should not have happened.

You urged him up, trailing your lips across his face and asked him to get inside you. He scoffed in amusement, “No prep?”

“I don’t need it,” you scoffed back and he shook his head when he noticed how soaked you were. He rubbed the head of his cock over your clit and wet folds a few times, making you almost break apart before sinking inside you slowly, deeply, settling and letting you both delve in the sensation. You resorted to kissing his neck in the meanwhile and he started moving inside you slowly, surely, like he had done so many times now.

You sighed in pleasure, throwing your head back and Wooyoung gently laid you on the table, surprising you when he held your legs and put them on top of his shoulders- a new position that made his cock feel way deeper inside you, the sensation of his movements also heightened. He noticed your parted mouth and he moved experimentally, making you both gasp.

“Gosh, you’re so tight. You like this?” He asked and you nodded, letting him hold your legs by the calf as he banged relentlessly into you as if challenging you to moan louder with each thrust, and you could do nothing but deliver, your climax approaching quicker than it had in any of your previous sessions. 

“I’m- so close, Wooyoung, please,” you managed to say, trying to hold on to something on the table but finding nothing. 

“Yeah?” He breathed. “I’m gonna make you see stars tonight, baby.”

That was a promise he fulfilled as he thrust deeper into you and you came all over him, breaking apart right there. Wooyoung chuckled deeply at the sight, pulling out of you.

“I’m not done with you, yet,” he told you and a faint smile crept on your lips as you asked him to take you to bed. He picked you up effortlessly and then you were on your bed and catching your breaths, him caressing your face as he kissed you deeply.

“Tell me something tonight, y/n,” he breathed against your ears after trailing kisses down that path. “Would you have done this with anyone else?”

“Done what?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“This,” he looked at you and you tucked his hair back, tracing his jawline. “I want to know if it could have been anyone else instead of me.”

Moments like these.

“And… why would you want to know that?”

You could see that he was holding back, shrugging it off with a smile. “I just do.”

“Well,” you shifted in his arms. “No one else is such a fucking menace and no one drives me crazy like you do, so I guess… probably not?”

“Gosh, I’m gonna miss this mouth of yours so much,” Wooyoung kissed you once and caressed your face. “I have to go back soon, baby.”

“How soon?” You managed to ask.

“I don’t know yet, but I know we’re short on time,” he kissed your cheek. “I want to make the most of the time we have.”

You were pretty sure he had heard the sound of your heart break- or at least caught the look in your eyes. You nodded and he paused in the middle of caressing your hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said after a moment, smiling and shifting in his arms. “Let’s just make the most of the time we have, yeah?”

He nodded though he wasn’t smiling anymore. “How do you want me tonight?”

An open invitation. You smiled sadly as you took the leap of risk. 

“I want you to hug me. I want you to kiss me like there’s no tomorrow. I want you to make love to me, not fuck me like you just did. Then I want to hold you as we sleep, and wake up with you.”

Wooyoung’s heart sank. “You know, I would have done that anyway.”

“You know, you’re really bad at keeping boundaries, Wooyoung,” you started, the rage you’d been subsiding for a while now finally brimming out. “From the moment we started whatever this is… I don’t know-” you broke off and Wooyoung held your hands as an attempt to make you face him.

“Finish saying that,” he practically ordered and you glared at him.

“I just want to know where we stand, Wooyoung. Are we ending this tonight? Are we going to be just friends the next time we meet and pretend nothing happened here? Can you forget what happened here?”

“If you want me to forget, I will,” his jaw clenched though he seemed calm. 

“And if I don’t?” You dared ask and he met eyes with you, a thousand words unspoken between you two. He moved to join his forehead with you and the way your heart fluttered was unlike any moment you had shared so far.

“I don’t know what to do with you, y/n. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Oh, god,” you drew away and hid your face in your hands as you processed that. “Just tell me how you want this to end.”

“I don’t want us to break up,” his voice was low. “I… tell me what you want. I’ll be okay.”

“I’ve told you so many times,” you cried, finally looking at him, “in so many ways. I’m still afraid you’ll make fun of me if I show you what I really want.”

“God, no. I would never make fun of something like that, so tell me how you feel about me, please. I’m begging you, and I really hope we’re on the same page here, y/n, because I don’t know how I’ll move on if we aren’t.”

“You’re stupid,” you laughed between crying, making him laugh as well. “You’re a menace and you don’t let me breathe, but you’re also my best friend and you know me like no one else does. I don’t know how long I’ve loved you like this, but it’s long enough that I got so confused, and then you pulled this stunt and now we’re here and I’m a mess because if you don’t love me like I do… I don’t think I can move on.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Wooyoung laughed, kissing your knuckles. “I’m only like this when I’m with you. You know that, right?”

You nodded and he continued. “You’re my oldest friend and I’ve loved you for so long now. I took such a risk pulling this stunt but when you… when you kissed me back that night? You looked like you wanted to hurt me. What could I make of that? I let you have your way with me, and I kept falling deeper in love with you. I love it when you call me yours. I love it when you tell me there’s no one else who could make you feel this way, but had I known these were your confessions of love, I would have dropped to my knees right there.”

You laughed at that. “You’re so… oh god, I can’t look at you right now,” you drew away and hid your face in the blankets but Wooyoung wasn’t having any of it- he got on top of you, littering kisses everywhere on your back until you had to stop him because it tickled.

“Look at me,” his voice was deep and he crawled up to you, pinning your wrists to the side as he made you meet eyes with him. “You’re beautiful in every way- even this dirty mouth of yours,” he pecked your lips and you grinned. “You’ve always had me wrapped around your fingers, do you know that? I’m always waiting for you. I don’t know how long I’ve felt like this but I’ve wanted nothing more than to be with you. I love you so much, y/n-” he kissed you deeply and you met his energy back as if you could tell him that yes- you felt exactly the same. 

He let go of your wrists only to hold you to himself as he kissed you passionately, and now that your feelings were out in the open you couldn’t believe how different it felt. He craned one arm under you and held the back of your neck, the other repeatedly caressing your face as you basically devoured each other, and you made his cock slide between your folds so you could grind on him as you kissed, moaning into it and he didn’t let you breathe once. He swallowed every strangled gasp and groan that left you as he grinded back on you.

With much effort, you pulled him away only to look at him pleadingly and he understood, sliding his cock inside you and groaning loudly, peppering kisses all over your face before he hugged you.

“Gosh, I love you so much,” he tried moving but you kept your arms wrapped tightly around him, locking your legs around him.

“Please, stay like this for a moment,” you breathed, kissing his cheek. “I love this feeling. Tell me you love me again.”

“You’re going to end me,” he nuzzled your face with his nose. “I love you to death.” Your walls twitched at that and he groaned in your ears. “You like it when I tell you how much I love you?”

“Yes,” you sighed. “Oh, gosh, yes.”

“You’re mine,” he said and your walls twitched again and he couldn’t take it anymore- he thrusted inside you deep and hard, making you bite his shoulder to keep from screaming. “You hear me? You’re mine to love and mine to fuck.”

“I’m all yours,” you rocked against him. “I love you. I love you so much that it’s breaking me apart.”

Wooyoung nodded, kissing you again as he increased his pace, his thrusts wild but his kisses gentle, murmuring about how much he loved this repeatedly in your ears and when he groaned in the crook of your neck as he thrusted hard, you finally came with an unexpected rush, him joining seconds later but he kept thrusting to it as if he could mark it in your walls, deep, that he was yours and you were his.

You caught your breaths as you lay in each other’s arms and you cleared your throat. “You know, if you hadn’t been such a fucking idiot, we could have figured this out way earlier and I would not have felt like shit this whole time-”

“Shh…” he pecked your nose. “I don’t regret doing it this way. It was fun, no?”

“I’m pretty sure I would have rejected you if you asked nicely,” you wondered, nodding. “So I guess I should be thankful that you’re a menace?”

“You love it,” he grinned and you smiled, watching his breathing relax and his eyes shut.

“You better be coming to see me next month in my home with a proposal ring, Wooyoung. I’m not having you any other way.”

Wooyoung opened his eyes at that. “You sure?”

“You’re still not sure?!” You groaned. “Get out of my bed, Jung Wooyoung-”

“I’m only playing,” he laughed hysterically as you tried kicking him away. “Are we always going to be like this?”

“Isn’t this who we are?” You smiled. “No point changing now, right? Besides… I quite like you when you’re being annoying as hell.”

Wooyoung got on top of you and kissed you deeply, sliding his tongue in you and though you were tired, you found yourself making out with him again. He drew back, playing with the rock of your necklace.

“I quite like this filthy mouth of yours too. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Oh my god, mom’s gonna be so happy when she learns we finally gave in to each other.”

You frowned. “Did she already know?”

“Kind of. She made me buy this necklace for you and asked me to man up and confess. I had a better idea instead-”

The gasp that left you was unreal and you grabbed the nearest object- pillow- and smacked him hard, his high pitched laugh ringing in the air.

“Jung Wooyoung, you absolute brat!”

[rainba]

Animalistic Instincts ღ

a/n: I just wanted to write a small thing about Luka being in heat some more... Particularly his breeding kink~ I made this one a fem reader, but if anyone wants a male version of this, I'd be happy to write it! ( ´ ▿ ` )

For this, reader is implied to be living with Luka.

TWs: breeding kink, dubcon (?), silencing via fingers shoved in mouth, dirty talk, unwanted pregnancy on darling's end, Luka being Luka.

NSFW, 18+ only!

Luka is a man who typically never loses his composure. He’s almost always calm, careful, manipulative, and smart to some degree. It’s something that he takes pride in.

…However, as a man born half-fox, there are days where the animal within him likes to take control. Every year when winter rolls around, that’s when his heat takes over him. And when that happens, he can no longer think for himself– he just goes wherever his dick takes him.

There are some times where he can be rational. Luka can still reasonably cook, clean, work, and take care of both you and him. However, he needs to fuck multiple times between tasks, which is a little inconvenient. He can still function overall, though.

But… There are days where his mind turns into total mush, and all he can think about is fucking you raw.

Luka knows that it’s gonna be a rough day when he wakes up and his first thoughts are centered around how badly he wants to breed and get you pregnant.

God, the idea of it all sounds so damn enticing to him. He’ll fuck you over and over again until you can’t walk, stuffing you full of his hot seed as he lovingly rubs your stomach. He can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you’ll be when you’re all swollen and big while carrying his children. Luka will take extra-good care of you every step of the way… He’ll spoil you like a princess.

“We’re going to have so many kids,” He’ll growl darkly as he savagely thrusts his cock deep inside of you, shoving his cum further in as he locks your hips in place. At some point, you’ll lose count of how many rounds of sex you’ve had. 

“We’ll make a huge family.”

If you whine and tell him that you don’t want any kids, he’ll silence you by shoving his fingers deep inside your throat. You obviously don’t mean that…! You’re just a little confused and worn-out, that’s all. So instead of whining and saying things you don’t mean, how about you suck on his fingers and take his cock like a good girl?

After a couple rounds have passed and you’re thoroughly tired and overstimulated, Luka will start to slow down… But he doesn’t stop. Instead, he’ll just lay you down on your side and he’ll curl up behind you, raising one of your legs as he sensually fucks your pussy from the back. His breath is hot and heavy as he buries his face into your neck.

Luka's cum would be, quite literally, overflowing out of you and spilling onto the bed, but that doesn’t stop him. The animal inside of him demands that he keeps going until he physically collapses.

Also, it doesn’t matter if you feel all hot, sweaty, and disgusting– Luka downright refuses to let you take a shower. However, he will let you lay in bed as he takes a wet rag and wipes you down. His one rule is that you’re absolutely not allowed to clean up his cum. If you wash it out, then that means you’re lowering the chances of getting pregnant...! Right?

Afterwards, if you still cry at the thought of getting pregnant, he’ll kiss away your tears while reassuring you that everything will be okay– and that there’s nothing to worry about! Bearing his children can’t be that bad… If anything, it’ll be a wonderful experience! Don’t you worry your pretty little head, he’ll spoil you rotten for the next 9 months. ~

…But when tomorrow rolls around, if his mind isn’t mush anymore, the delayed post-nut regret will hit him like a speeding train. He’d consider giving you a morning-after pill, but… Honestly? Even when he’s not insanely horny, the idea of starting a family with you sounds nice. So, he wouldn’t give you it unless you genuinely begged him to.

[shaisuki]

THE EXTENSIONS OF MY DEVOTION

YANDERE! HUSBAND MIKAGE REO X CHUBBY READER

content warnings ─── implied noncon, forced marriage, yandere themes babytrapping, reader wants to have more kids, stockholm syndrome, smut, breeding kink, dubcon, pregnancy, talks of childbirth.

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ all changed in the blink of an eye and now you're the wife and mother of his children and despite all of what your ceo husband had done to you, you want more children.

the first time you feel him moving inside you, you were absolutely disgusted. horrified for soon to becoming the mother of the baby inside you. created by reo's selfishness and greediness that destroyed your once mundane life.

then he was born. all your worries and fear disappeared with the appearance of your baby. cradled in your arms and his little hand grasping your pinky finger. there were tears of regret streaming down your face of how you could hate this innocent little child without knowing what his father had done to you. wiping down the tears you made a commitment to yourself.

you were going to love this one with all your heart.

the first year with reo being your husband it was hell. how you were only doing paperwork yesterday, now it was filled with days of being told how to act like a proper wife to your ceo husband and being a mother to his heir. maintaining appearances to fit with your status. you're not a commoner anymore, the governess would say to you while being taught of the proper etiquettes.

you didn't enjoy any of it. aside from being taught on how to care for an infant which you insisted despite reo telling you that the nanny can handle it but you refused. you weren't raising this child to be spoiled, stuck up person. you will raise your child like how the way you were raised and your child is the only one who can receive your whole unconditional love.

mikage reiji. your firstborn with your husband. the surname almost bring tears to your eyes. you have it, the surname. appealing it was and leave everyone to be in awe as being the wife and the mother of his child — it was the kind of branding that means he owned you.

reiji was the reason of it. after reo forced himself to you and find out you were carrying his future heir, a wedding soon followed. it was his right, your soon-to-be husband said to you and he won't let his child with you be born to be an illegitimate and your fate was sealed.

even reiji was the cause of it, you lived your days with your son and his presence brought you peace. the only thing reo had done good that you learned to accept.

you enjoyed being a mother to your child and reo was a doting father. praising you for being a good mother to his child and he'll reward you with a kiss that soon turned to be a night of worshipping you.

after that when reiji turned a year old, you were pregnant again. the thought of being with child again scared you but when you look at reiji, you knew it was going to be fine and despite how much you hated reo, a new realization dawned on you. this occured to you many times before when your time was all on taking care of your baby that you enjoyed being a mother and you wished for more.

then reiji was followed by his baby sister being born a year later. a new addition to your family and you were happy. what's dark and cold when you were with reo is now replaced with the neverending joy of being with your children. watch as they outgrow their clothes, learned to call you as their mama. their cute giggles melting the worries in your heart and when the siblings are old enough to sleep in their own rooms, you found the courage to tell reo of your wishes one night.

“reo?” the ceo hums in response when you called his name while he's behind you. his arm draped in your plush stomach, drawing soft circles on it.

“i wish to tell you something.” you shift in your position. turning your body to face him. “what is it, treasure?” his voice soft and mellow. it's the only way he addressed you. “i want to have more children with you.” meeting his gaze and observe how it changes into something of curiosity to one of darkening. smirk blooming in his face.

“that's it, my wife?” he asks. knowing damn sure of it. reo have all the riches in the world and the wealth to give you more what you want and needed. “you want to give reiji and reiko a another sibling, a good choice — treasure.” moving above you to trap you with his body. pinning your arms in both sides as he licks his lips.

some part of you hates him or you got used to it. of him exploiting you and in return you treat it as something normal. no matter how you threatened him or cry in front of him, it doesn't change anything. reo made sure a long time ago that he'll find you even in the deepest pits of hell just to have you again.

it's enough to keep you beside him with no qualms and only received his undying fondness to you. he's obsessed and you're feeding it to him.

“yeah.” you confirm to him and reo leans down. capturing your lips to his and pushing his tongue deep inside your mouth. lowering the straps of your nightgown and tugging it down to reveal the body of his wife that had given him children.

two pregnancies and you're still looking divine. stomach rounder and littered with stretch marks, he can't wait to get you pregnant again. his gorgeous wife that turns anyone green with envy.

“g—going to breed this pussy again.” he groans. his hips moving in a fast pace with the intent of knocking you up again. “you want that, treasure? he moans out, holding your hips tighter. going deeper as possible like the first time he had done it to you. “want me to cum in this pretty pussy of yours and make me a father again? you want that?”

“yes! yes — ahhh! please, reo!” you cry out. digging your nails in his arms and he can feel you tighten. sucking him deep into this warm cunt of yours. it spurs him more to please his wife and giving her what she wants. reo only wants that happiness of yours.

he kisses you once again, your legs locking around his hips to prevent him from pulling out and with a brutal slam of his hips, both of your orgasm came rolling. spurts and spurts of his cum filling your fertile womb and soon it will bless him with a another child and he will fill you up again like a good husband.

there's nothing quite like it when he's all yours and you, round with his baby again.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unconditional Love ~ BC

⤜WORD COUNT: 1.7K

⤜PAIRING: Chan X Fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: established relationships, mummy issues, chan comforting reader after finding her crying, mummy issues are bought up, trauma dumping i guess as well, producer bang chan not idol chan, 

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The day was supposed to be something special between you and Chan, but everything went wrong at every single turn. The two of you had decided today was the day you were finally going to tackle painting the rest of the spare bedrooms in your shared home but you'd run out of paint on the third room, as well as accidentally spilt some of the new carpet on the top of the stairs, it was safe to say the day was going to hell pretty quickly.

Chan had text letting you know that the store had none of the colours you were using so he'd gone to the next town leaving you alone in the bedroom you were in, staring at the walls as you felt your phone buzzing excessively.

~Mum Calling ~

It had been ringing on and off for the last hour and a half and each time you just stared down at the screen, waiting for it to end only to pick back up once more. You had no idea how she managed to get your new number every time you got one or why she insisted on calling you from burner phones but you knew it was probably her going to everyone you knew begging for the new number.

Giving them her usual sob story about how you'd neglected to tell her you changed your number and as usual they felt sorry for her and gave her the number. Despite not knowing the true reason you never gave her your new number and why you refused to speak to her.

The two of you didn't exactly have the best relationship with one another growing up, instead of treating you like her daughter, she treated you like a bank and a punching bag for insults she would throw your way. Nothing you ever did was good enough in her eyes, nothing you ever did was good...at all for her.

Biting down on your lip you watched as the screen lit up once more with ~Mum Calling ~ but you made no move to answer it. You just watched as you waited for it to end, each time bringing up more and more painful memories for you.

All the times she'd scream in your face because you wanted attention, but you were a child...Children wanted attention from their parents. You'd done practically everything you could to get her to even pay you the tiniest bit of attention, staying in the top 1% of all your schools, getting incredible grades and giving your 100% in everything that you ever did but she didn't care.

The memories of her rushing out of the house every day to go on a spending spree of your father's hard-earned money were still burnt into your memory. Your birthdays were filled with nothing but a cupcake from the maid who had remembered it was your birthday and a card, signed by "Mum and Dad" But both signatures were your father's handwriting. Your mother didn't care and you knew that.

It had taken almost all of your life for you to realise that you meant little to your mother and that she hated you somewhere inside of her. Every conversation...on the rare occasion that you'd have one led to her screaming at you and insulting you about how you could never measure up the way she wanted you to.

~Mum calling~

Sighing to yourself you knew you were going to regret it but you answered the phone, not even able to open your mouth before she started the screaming match,

"What if I was dying?! Huh?! What if I was calling you because I was dying?!" She screeched,

"I'd hope you'd call Emergency services." You mumble a little, sinking against the unpainted wall behind you as you feel yourself shrinking at her words.

"You're the worst daughter in the world you know! You never come to fucking see me! Ever since your father divorced me and threw me to the side for that younger bitch you never see me!" She screamed making you roll your eyes.

Your father hadn't left her FOR anyone, he'd left her because - like you - he'd had enough of her shit and finally decided to leave her. Unfortunately for you, while he could hide from her for the rest of his days you couldn't count yourself that lucky. Your father served her with divorce papers and a restraining order, cutting off total contact with her and leaving her with nothing.

None of his money was hers thanks to the prenup his father had made them sign and she was left with nothing. Hence why she constantly called you, begging and pleading with you to send her a little money because her benefits didn't suit her lavish lifestyle, in her eyes.

"What do you want, mum?" You asked, cutting her off as she continued to ramble about what an awful man your father was when he'd done everything he could to make her happy in all their years of marriage until he finally snapped.

"Is that any way to talk to the woman that gave birth to you?! That raised you?!" She continued on but you ignored her. Raised you? If you counted shoving you in the arms of nannies from the moment she could as raising you then sure. But your mother had never been involved in any of that.

She merely palmed you off in the hands of anyone she could, your grandparents, the nannies...the maids. Even friends. You could still remember the one time you'd stayed over at a friend's home for almost two weeks because your mother had gone to Paris for a "break" a break from what, you never knew. Part of you had hoped she'd forgotten you there and you could live with your friend but your father collected you one night, apologising for not noticing you were missing.

The door to the bedroom opened and you glanced up at Chan who looked concerned, even though the phone wasn't on speaker he could hear your mother screaming at you through the line.

"Mum." You mouthed to him as he sat across from you and handed you a hot chocolate and watched as you took the verbal abuse spewing from your mother's lips.

"I just need a little money," She finally finished, turning on the sweet voice as you rubbed your temples.

"I can't." Your voice came out shakey as it always did whenever you denied her the money she was scrounging for which was every single time she called you.

Because of course, she'd never call you just to check in like anyone else's mother would.

"You ungrateful little fucking bitch! I know you have money! You're with that fucking producer! He must be loaded!" Chan looked at you, slowly shifting so he was sitting behind you, bringing you to sit between his legs as he held you in a comforting manner.

He hadn't known much about your family, he'd met your dad sometimes but the topic of your mother was avidly avoided whenever it was brought up and now he understood why that was.

"And unlike you, I won't beg my husband for cash," You spit at her, only earning another spew of insults flying in your direction but this time Chan took the phone from your fingers and hung up the phone for you.

"Chan..." You whisper as he goes into your settings, blocking her number before setting all unknown numbers to go straight to voicemail from now on and he smiles weakly at you.

"You don't need to deal with this alone anymore." He whispers, throwing your phone to the side and pulling you into a tight embrace, kissing your shoulder softly as you feel yourself relax in his embrace.

"I don't get it," You choke out between sobs, your heart breaking at the thought of everything.

All your life, all you'd ever wanted was a relationship with your mother like everyone else seemed to have. Someone who was supposed to love you unconditionally and be there for you. All your friends had someone they could turn to, their mothers waiting with open arms.

"Why am I not good enough for her?" You finally cry, hiding in Chan's chest as he starts to rub your back softly. Your body trembles as you speak, your voice heavy with everything you'd been holding back for so long.

"Why doesn't she love me? I've always...I've always watched everyone else with their mums, and they look so happy...W-Why don't I get that too?" You cried softly as he stroked your back gently, his heart aching with how sad you were.

"It's not your fault. You deserve...so much love and it hurts me to see you go through this...Your mother's actions don't define your worth, baby." Fresh tears spill down your cheeks but Chan brushed them away gently.

"It feels like they do." You whisper, your voice trembling now.

"I just...I want her to love me, to finally tell me she's proud of me but all she cares about is money. It's like I don't matter to her at all." Chan pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours as he rocked you both gently.

"You matter so much, Yn. To me, to your friends, to everyone who truly cares about you. I'm sorry your mum is so blind she can't see how incredible you are...How amazing her daughter is but it doesn't change the fact that you're fucking everything to me and so many others," He whispers as he cradles you into him, your tears soaking through his shirt,

"I know it hurts...but you're loved. You have people around you who care about you deeply... I'm here for you...always," He whispered as he continued to hold you, letting you cry for as long as you needed to in his warm embrace.

After a while, you finally sniffled and wiped your face from the tears,

"Thank you, Channie. I don't know what I'd do without you," Chan simply tightened his hold around you,

"you'll never have to find that out." He promises you, bringing a soft kiss to your forehead as you smile softly up at him.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie

[flamingpudding]

I'm so sorry I didn't get to finish but as Dan's Teekl is a Phoenix snake and he takes after Vlad since of dressing

When something big is going on the magical world and they need King Phantom's help he decides to bring along his children this is how the Justice League finds out just like Robin is a past dumb title so is Klarion all the Justice League deal with a bunch of hyper up chaotic children who have been antiheroes let's find out

I wanted this to be just like a we are robbing thing except with Clarion all of them showing off the fact that Teekl have never been a cat would be so funny to me

Anywho I haven't been able to come up with anymore ideas for Dan is Klarion but I did come out with this one hope you find it funny sorry that I messed up on the first part of the writing

Okay... so version one got deleted, per my rant post notices... so here is version two hopes to that it will still be as good... also... i didn't remember how I ended this the first time soooooo yea... sorry again for having messed up in between...

[Link to the first part of the Ask here!]

I hope this will still be as enjoyable....

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

Vlad didn't regret a lot of things but he regretted having told Bruce Wayne that he had a way of summoning the Ghost King. Why you ask? Because Bruce Wayne apparently leaked that information to the Justice League.

Well originally Vlad had told Bruce only about this because he was after the deal he had wanted for years with Wayne Enterprise. That man had been able to avoid Vlad for years now, and during his years when he hadn't been a redeemed man it had infuriated him.

But he was a redeemed man now. He had reformed his entire Company and since Wayne Enterprise was contracted with the Justice League, he had felt it was appropriate to boost that his Company had valuable connections too.

He also just wanted to rub it into Brucie Waynes face that he wasn't the only one with big name Hero / other worldly connections department. Okay it might have been a bit of an ego thing left. But he was a redeemed man.

And because he was a redeemed man he had not used his ghost powers to throw Batman out of the window the hero had used to barge into his hotel room at 3 -goddamn- AM only to demand the method on how to summon the ghost king.

No sir, Vlad was a redeemed man, he was nice now, a good guy.

He only grumbled and demanded the reason, which apparently was a demonic thread to the magical world that indirectly could wipe out the entire world itself. Great, little badger will not be amused hearing about that.

Daniel would be cross with him for using the summoning stone in the middle of the night but Batman was giving him a valid reason to use it. Surely Daniel would understand right? Plus Vlad could use that as change to see the little badger again. It had been a while since he last saw him.

Well Vlad regretted agreeing with Batman with the condition that he would be the one to do the summoning. That man in a bat suit did not hesitate to drag Vlad with him then bringing him, blindfolded mind you, to a place where he then was faced with several heroes, including but not limited to the Justice league.

Just great.

At least Vlad got to inform Danial about the situation and the reason for his summon as Ghost King via summoning stone, even if that blond British man had scoffed when he saw Vlad pulling it out, about the situation and what the little badger could expect the moment he stepped out of a portal.

What Vlad did not expect were several RED portals opening and similarly dressed young adults as well as one teen stepping out of them.

"Sup old man! Mom told us you called him about some world ending problem!" Dan greeted him in his Klarion get up, perfectly styled hair and his ghost pet, a phoenix snake, Snape (yes Dan named his pet after a mage from a wizard movie series) on his shoulders. Vlad could feel the distinctive illusion magic around the pet and he was pretty sure everyone without ghost powers were not able to see through it.

"KLARION?!" One of the present heroes yelled.

And of course all of the kids had to answer in reflect turning to where the voice came from at the same time.

"Yea"

There was a brief moment of silence in which Vlad face palmed.

"Ah sorry, that was on reflex. Old habits die hard!" Ellie laughed, she had grown into a young woman and was currently wearing what looked like a black suit crossed with a 90s style witch dress.

"I am the current Klarion, lose that fucking habit already." Dan grumbled annoyed as he crossed his arms glaring at every sibling that had answered to his alias.

"I am telling mom you cussed." Ellie instead grinned instead, before she looked around for a moment before her eyes landed on Nightwing, her face instantly lighting up. "ROBIN! I mean Nightwing! I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Do I know you?" Vlad could feel sorry for the hero, but these where the phantom kids, so he wasn't in the slightest and he was still cross with he heroes for waking him up at 3AM!

"I am hurt! Don't you recognise me!" Ellie gasped and Dan unashamedly elbowed her for acting so familiar.

"Misrule." He warned her. Ellies current Anti-Hero -Chaos Agent- Alias Vlad remembered. A name she specifically chose because it sounded like Miss Rule and she knew that the word play would annoy Nabu. That girl had some serious beef with the Ancient of Order.

"Oh shush little brother! Let me reconnect with the kids I used to mess with!" She shushed Dan ruffling his hair and nearly messing up his horned hairstyle, before turning back to Nightwing. "Don't you remember my lovely Armadillos? Though I only know you were the Robin I first meet because I looked into Grandpa Clock's time mirrors..."

There was a brief moment of silence on the other side where the heroes stood and Vlad swore he could have heard a pin needle drop.

"Oh god..." One of them finally spoke up as apparently some kind of realisation sunk into the heroes. But before Ellie could add anything more the one Vlad recognised as Red Robin cut in.

"Klarion is like Robin!"

"RR what are you...?"

"The title of Klarion got passed down like Robin!"

There was another brief moment of silence before Dan, Ellie and the rest of their siblings burst out laughing.

"It took you idiots this long to see that?!" Dan called them out, laughing as he hugged Snape.

Vlad would probably feel sorry for the entirety of the heroes before him if he wasn't amused by this himself, even he had seen the differences whenever 'Klarion' got passed on.

"For your information, I was the first Klarion, so i could mess with Nabu." Ellie grinned. "I was also the one that used a bit to much eyeliner."

"I never got the the horned hairstyle right."

"I was the one with a fancy black suit."

One by one the phantom kids listed of all the differences in their versions of Klarion until they all looked towards the youngest Dan, the current Klarion.

"What?" He grumbled as his elder siblings grinned at him.

"Fucking fine. I use a suit similar to the old man's style and I like to do more than just mess with Nabitch." He muttered after enduring his siblings stares for.

"And you cuss." Ellie grinned brightly causing the rest of the siblings to to chuckle.

Vlad recognised the look in Dan's eyes and before the kids could break out into an argument or a brawl, depending how violent Dan was feeling, he coughed loudly to get noticed by everyone.

"World threatening situation." He reminded everyone. "Where is your mother? The Ghost King?"

"Oh Mom is already dealing with the situation." Dan shrugged. "We more or less came to watch and see the heroes suck and fail at 'Order' to rub it into Nabitch's face."

Vlad really wanted to scowl the kids and he was going to but then the heroes cut in again.

"Can we get back to the thing about Klarion being a title passed down like Robin? With how many different Klarions did we have to deal with over the years!?"

"Red Robin not the right time..."

"Yes the right time! So many comments from Klarion make sense now! Like the first time he went right up into my face!"

"Red Robin!"

"Oh that was still me! The first Klarion!"

[itsawritblr]

Holy shit, the New York Times is FINALLY interviewing and listening to detransistioners.

The tide is turning.

Opinion by Pamela Paul

As Kids, They Thought They Were Trans. They No Longer Do.

Feb. 2, 2024

Grace Powell was 12 or 13 when she discovered she could be a boy.

Growing up in a relatively conservative community in Grand Rapids, Mich., Powell, like many teenagers, didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin. She was unpopular and frequently bullied. Puberty made everything worse. She suffered from depression and was in and out of therapy.

“I felt so detached from my body, and the way it was developing felt hostile to me,” Powell told me. It was classic gender dysphoria, a feeling of discomfort with your sex.

Reading about transgender people online, Powell believed that the reason she didn’t feel comfortable in her body was that she was in the wrong body. Transitioning seemed like the obvious solution. The narrative she had heard and absorbed was that if you don’t transition, you’ll kill yourself.

At 17, desperate to begin hormone therapy, Powell broke the news to her parents. They sent her to a gender specialist to make sure she was serious. In the fall of her senior year of high school, she started cross-sex hormones. She had a double mastectomy the summer before college, then went off as a transgender man named Grayson to Sarah Lawrence College, where she was paired with a male roommate on a men’s floor. At 5-foot-3, she felt she came across as a very effeminate gay man.

At no point during her medical or surgical transition, Powell says, did anyone ask her about the reasons behind her gender dysphoria or her depression. At no point was she asked about her sexual orientation. And at no point was she asked about any previous trauma, and so neither the therapists nor the doctors ever learned that she’d been sexually abused as a child.

“I wish there had been more open conversations,” Powell, now 23 and detransitioned, told me. “But I was told there is one cure and one thing to do if this is your problem, and this will help you.”

Progressives often portray the heated debate over childhood transgender care as a clash between those who are trying to help growing numbers of children express what they believe their genders to be and conservative politicians who won’t let kids be themselves.

But right-wing demagogues are not the only ones who have inflamed this debate. Transgender activists have pushed their own ideological extremism, especially by pressing for a treatment orthodoxy that has faced increased scrutiny in recent years. Under that model of care, clinicians are expected to affirm a young person’s assertion of gender identity and even provide medical treatment before, or even without, exploring other possible sources of distress.

Many who think there needs to be a more cautious approach — including well-meaning liberal parents, doctors and people who have undergone gender transition and subsequently regretted their procedures — have been attacked as anti-trans and intimidated into silencing their concerns.

And while Donald Trump denounces “left-wing gender insanity” and many trans activists describe any opposition as transphobic, parents in America’s vast ideological middle can find little dispassionate discussion of the genuine risks or trade-offs involved in what proponents call gender-affirming care.

Powell’s story shows how easy it is for young people to get caught up by the pull of ideology in this atmosphere.

“What should be a medical and psychological issue has been morphed into a political one,” Powell lamented during our conversation. “It’s a mess.”

A New and Growing Group of Patients

Many transgender adults are happy with their transitions and, whether they began to transition as adults or adolescents, feel it was life changing, even lifesaving. The small but rapidly growing number of children who express gender dysphoria and who transition at an early age, according to clinicians, is a recent and more controversial phenomenon.

Laura Edwards-Leeper, the founding psychologist of the first pediatric gender clinic in the United States, said that when she started her practice in 2007, most of her patients had longstanding and deep-seated gender dysphoria. Transitioning clearly made sense for almost all of them, and any mental health issues they had were generally resolved through gender transition.

“But that is just not the case anymore,” she told me recently. While she doesn’t regret transitioning the earlier cohort of patients and opposes government bans on transgender medical care, she said, “As far as I can tell, there are no professional organizations who are stepping in to regulate what’s going on.”

Most of her patients now, she said, have no history of childhood gender dysphoria. Others refer to this phenomenon, with some controversy, as rapid onset gender dysphoria, in which adolescents, particularly tween and teenage girls, express gender dysphoria despite never having done so when they were younger. Frequently, they have mental health issues unrelated to gender. While professional associations say there is a lack of quality research on rapid onset gender dysphoria, several researchers have documented the phenomenon, and many health care providers have seen evidence of it in their practices.

“The population has changed drastically,” said Edwards-Leeper, a former head of the Child and Adolescent Committee for the World Professional Association for Transgender Health, the organization responsible for setting gender transition guidelines for medical professionals.

For these young people, she told me, “you have to take time to really assess what’s going on and hear the timeline and get the parents’ perspective in order to create an individualized treatment plan. Many providers are completely missing that step.”

Yet those health care professionals and scientists who do not think clinicians should automatically agree to a young person’s self-diagnosis are often afraid to speak out. A report commissioned by the National Health Service about Britain’s Tavistock gender clinic, which, until it was ordered to be shut down, was the country’s only health center dedicated to gender identity, noted that “primary and secondary care staff have told us that they feel under pressure to adopt an unquestioning affirmative approach and that this is at odds with the standard process of clinical assessment and diagnosis that they have been trained to undertake in all other clinical encounters.”

Of the dozens of students she’s trained as psychologists, Edwards-Leeper said, few still seem to be providing gender-related care. While her students have left the field for various reasons, “some have told me that they didn’t feel they could continue because of the pushback, the accusations of being transphobic, from being pro-assessment and wanting a more thorough process,” she said.

They have good reasons to be wary. Stephanie Winn, a licensed marriage and family therapist in Oregon, was trained in gender-affirming care and treated multiple transgender patients. But in 2020, after coming across detransition videos online, she began to doubt the gender-affirming model. In 2021 she spoke out in favor of approaching gender dysphoria in a more considered way, urging others in the field to pay attention to detransitioners, people who no longer consider themselves transgender after undergoing medical or surgical interventions. She has since been attacked by transgender activists. Some threatened to send complaints to her licensing board saying that she was trying to make trans kids change their minds through conversion therapy.

In April 2022, the Oregon Board of Licensed Professional Counselors and Therapists told Winn that she was under investigation. Her case was ultimately dismissed, but Winn no longer treats minors and practices only online, where many of her patients are worried parents of trans-identifying children.

“I don’t feel safe having a location where people can find me,” she said.

Detransitioners say that only conservative media outlets seem interested in telling their stories, which has left them open to attacks as hapless tools of the right, something that frustrated and dismayed every detransitioner I interviewed. These are people who were once the trans-identified kids that so many organizations say they’re trying to protect — but when they change their minds, they say, they feel abandoned.

Most parents and clinicians are simply trying to do what they think is best for the children involved. But parents with qualms about the current model of care are frustrated by what they see as a lack of options.

Parents told me it was a struggle to balance the desire to compassionately support a child with gender dysphoria while seeking the best psychological and medical care. Many believed their kids were gay or dealing with an array of complicated issues. But all said they felt compelled by gender clinicians, doctors, schools and social pressure to accede to their child’s declared gender identity even if they had serious doubts. They feared it would tear apart their family if they didn’t unquestioningly support social transition and medical treatment. All asked to speak anonymously, so desperate were they to maintain or repair any relationship with their children, some of whom were currently estranged.

Several of those who questioned their child’s self-diagnosis told me it had ruined their relationship. A few parents said simply, “I feel like I’ve lost my daughter.”

One mother described a meeting with 12 other parents in a support group for relatives of trans-identified youth where all of the participants described their children as autistic or otherwise neurodivergent. To all questions, the woman running the meeting replied, “Just let them transition.” The mother left in shock. How would hormones help a child with obsessive-compulsive disorder or depression? she wondered.

Some parents have found refuge in anonymous online support groups. There, people share tips on finding caregivers who will explore the causes of their children’s distress or tend to their overall emotional and developmental health and well-being without automatically acceding to their children’s self-diagnosis.

Many parents of kids who consider themselves trans say their children were introduced to transgender influencers on YouTube or TikTok, a phenomenon intensified for some by the isolation and online cocoon of Covid. Others say their kids learned these ideas in the classroom, as early as elementary school, often in child-friendly ways through curriculums supplied by trans rights organizations, with concepts like the gender unicorn or the Genderbread person.

‘Do You Want a Dead Son or a Live Daughter?’

After Kathleen’s 15-year-old son, whom she described as an obsessive child, abruptly told his parents he was trans, the doctor who was going to assess whether he had A.D.H.D. referred him instead to someone who specialized in both A.D.H.D. and gender. Kathleen, who asked to be identified only by her first name to protect her son’s privacy, assumed that the specialist would do some kind of evaluation or assessment. That was not the case.

The meeting was brief and began on a shocking note. “In front of my son, the therapist said, ‘Do you want a dead son or a live daughter?’” Kathleen recounted.

Parents are routinely warned that to pursue any path outside of agreeing with a child’s self-declared gender identity is to put a gender dysphoric youth at risk for suicide, which feels to many people like emotional blackmail. Proponents of the gender-affirming model have cited studies showing an association between that standard of care and a lower risk of suicide. But those studies were found to have methodological flaws or have been deemed not entirely conclusive. A survey of studies on the psychological effects of cross-sex hormones, published three years ago in The Journal of the Endocrine Society, the professional organization for hormone specialists, found it “could not draw any conclusions about death by suicide.” In a letter to The Wall Street Journal last year, 21 experts from nine countries said that survey was one reason they believed there was “no reliable evidence to suggest that hormonal transition is an effective suicide prevention measure.”

Moreover, the incidence of suicidal thoughts and attempts among gender dysphoric youth is complicated by the high incidence of accompanying conditions, such as autism spectrum disorder. As one systematic overview put it, “Children with gender dysphoria often experience a range of psychiatric comorbidities, with a high prevalence of mood and anxiety disorders, trauma, eating disorders and autism spectrum conditions, suicidality and self-harm.”

But rather than being treated as patients who deserve unbiased professional help, children with gender dysphoria often become political pawns.

Conservative lawmakers are working to ban access to gender care for minors and occasionally for adults as well. On the other side, however, many medical and mental health practitioners feel their hands have been tied by activist pressure and organizational capture. They say that it has become difficult to practice responsible mental health care or medicine for these young people.

Pediatricians, psychologists and other clinicians who dissent from this orthodoxy, believing that it is not based on reliable evidence, feel frustrated by their professional organizations. The American Psychological Association, American Psychiatric Association and the American Academy of Pediatrics have wholeheartedly backed the gender-affirming model.

In 2021, Aaron Kimberly, a 50-year-old trans man and registered nurse, left the clinic in British Columbia where his job focused on the intake and assessment of gender-dysphoric youth. Kimberly received a comprehensive screening when he embarked on his own successful transition at age 33, which resolved the gender dysphoria he experienced from an early age.

But when the gender-affirming model was introduced at his clinic, he was instructed to support the initiation of hormone treatment for incoming patients regardless of whether they had complex mental problems, experiences with trauma or were otherwise “severely unwell,” Kimberly said. When he referred patients for further mental health care rather than immediate hormone treatment, he said he was accused of what they called gatekeeping and had to change jobs.

“I realized something had gone totally off the rails,” Kimberly, who subsequently founded the Gender Dysphoria Alliance and the L.G.B.T. Courage Coalition to advocate better gender care, told me.

Gay men and women often told me they fear that same-sex-attracted kids, especially effeminate boys and tomboy girls who are gender nonconforming, will be transitioned during a normal phase of childhood and before sexual maturation — and that gender ideology can mask and even abet homophobia.

As one detransitioned man, now in a gay relationship, put it, “I was a gay man pumped up to look like a woman and dated a lesbian who was pumped up to look like a man. If that’s not conversion therapy, I don’t know what is.”

“I transitioned because I didn’t want to be gay,” Kasey Emerick, a 23-year-old woman and detransitioner from Pennsylvania, told me. Raised in a conservative Christian church, she said, “I believed homosexuality was a sin.”

When she was 15, Emerick confessed her homosexuality to her mother. Her mother attributed her sexual orientation to trauma — Emerick’s father was convicted of raping and assaulting her repeatedly when she was between the ages of 4 and 7 — but after catching Emerick texting with another girl at age 16, she took away her phone. When Emerick melted down, her mother admitted her to a psychiatric hospital. While there, Emerick told herself, “If I was a boy, none of this would have happened.”

In May 2017, Emerick began searching “gender” online and encountered trans advocacy websites. After realizing she could “pick the other side,” she told her mother, “I’m sick of being called a dyke and not a real girl.” If she were a man, she’d be free to pursue relationships with women.

That September, she and her mother met with a licensed professional counselor for the first of two 90-minute consultations. She told the counselor that she had wished to be a Boy Scout rather than a Girl Scout. She said she didn’t like being gay or a butch lesbian. She also told the counselor that she had suffered from anxiety, depression and suicidal ideation. The clinic recommended testosterone, which was prescribed by a nearby L.G.B.T.Q. health clinic. Shortly thereafter, she was also diagnosed with A.D.H.D. She developed panic attacks. At age 17, she was cleared for a double mastectomy.

“I’m thinking, ‘Oh my God, I’m having my breasts removed. I’m 17. I’m too young for this,’” she recalled. But she went ahead with the operation.

“Transition felt like a way to control something when I couldn’t control anything in my life,” Emerick explained. But after living as a trans man for five years, Emerick realized her mental health symptoms were only getting worse. In the fall of 2022, she came out as a detransitioner on Twitter and was immediately attacked. Transgender influencers told her she was bald and ugly. She received multiple threats.

“I thought my life was over,” she said. “I realized that I had lived a lie for over five years.”

Today Emerick’s voice, permanently altered by testosterone, is that of a man. When she tells people she’s a detransitioner, they ask when she plans to stop taking T and live as a woman. “I’ve been off it for a year,” she replies.

Once, after she recounted her story to a therapist, the therapist tried to reassure her. If it’s any consolation, the therapist remarked, “I would never have guessed that you were once a trans woman.” Emerick replied, “Wait, what sex do you think I am?”

To the trans activist dictum that children know their gender best, it is important to add something all parents know from experience: Children change their minds all the time. One mother told me that after her teenage son desisted — pulled back from a trans identity before any irreversible medical procedures — he explained, “I was just rebelling. I look at it like a subculture, like being goth.”

“The job of children and adolescents is to experiment and explore where they fit into the world, and a big part of that exploration, especially during adolescence, is around their sense of identity,” Sasha Ayad, a licensed professional counselor based in Phoenix, told me. “Children at that age often present with a great deal of certainty and urgency about who they believe they are at the time and things they would like to do in order to enact that sense of identity.”

Ayad, a co-author of “When Kids Say They’re Trans: A Guide for Thoughtful Parents,” advises parents to be wary of the gender affirmation model. “We’ve always known that adolescents are particularly malleable in relationship to their peers and their social context and that exploration is often an attempt to navigate difficulties of that stage, such as puberty, coming to terms with the responsibilities and complications of young adulthood, romance and solidifying their sexual orientation,” she told me. For providing this kind of exploratory approach in her own practice with gender dysphoric youth, Ayad has had her license challenged twice, both times by adults who were not her patients. Both times, the charges were dismissed.

Studies show that around eight in 10 cases of childhood gender dysphoria resolve themselves by puberty and 30 percent of people on hormone therapy discontinue its use within four years, though the effects, including infertility, are often irreversible.

Proponents of early social transition and medical interventions for gender dysphoric youth cite a 2022 study showing that 98 percent of children who took both puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones continued treatment for short periods, and another study that tracked 317 children who socially transitioned between the ages of 3 and 12, which found that 94 percent of them still identified as transgender five years later. But such early interventions may cement children’s self-conceptions without giving them time to think or sexually mature.

‘The Process of Transition Didn’t Make Me Feel Better’

At the end of her freshman year of college, Grace Powell, horrifically depressed, began dissociating, feeling detached from her body and from reality, which had never happened to her before. Ultimately, she said, “the process of transition didn’t make me feel better. It magnified what I found was wrong with myself.”

“I expected it to change everything, but I was just me, with a slightly deeper voice,” she added. “It took me two years to start detransitioning and living as Grace again.”

She tried in vain to find a therapist who would treat her underlying issues, but they kept asking her: How do you want to be seen? Do you want to be nonbinary? Powell wanted to talk about her trauma, not her identity or her gender presentation. She ended up getting online therapy from a former employee of the Tavistock clinic in Britain. This therapist, a woman who has broken from the gender-affirming model, talked Grace through what she sees as her failure to launch and her efforts to reset. The therapist asked questions like: Who is Grace? What do you want from your life? For the first time, Powell felt someone was seeing and helping her as a person, not simply looking to slot her into an identity category.

Many detransitioners say they face ostracism and silencing because of the toxic politics around transgender issues.

“It is extraordinarily frustrating to feel that something I am is inherently political,” Powell told me. “I’ve been accused multiple times that I’m some right-winger who’s making a fake narrative to discredit transgender people, which is just crazy.”

While she believes there are people who benefit from transitioning, “I wish more people would understand that there’s not a one-size-fits-all solution,” she said. “I wish we could have that conversation.”

In a recent study in The Archives of Sexual Behavior, about 40 young detransitioners out of 78 surveyed said they had suffered from rapid onset gender dysphoria. Trans activists have fought hard to suppress any discussion of rapid onset gender dysphoria, despite evidence that the condition is real. In its guide for journalists, the activist organization GLAAD warns the media against using the term, as it is not “a formal condition or diagnosis.” Human Rights Campaign, another activist group, calls it “a right-wing theory.” A group of professional organizations put out a statement urging clinicians to eliminate the term from use.

Nobody knows how many young people desist after social, medical or surgical transitions. Trans activists often cite low regret rates for gender transition, along with low figures for detransition. But those studies, which often rely on self-reported cases to gender clinics, likely understate the actual numbers. None of the seven detransitioners I interviewed, for instance, even considered reporting back to the gender clinics that prescribed them medication they now consider to have been a mistake. Nor did they know any other detransitioners who had done so.

As Americans furiously debate the basis of transgender care, a number of advances in understanding have taken place in Europe, where the early Dutch studies that became the underpinning of gender-affirming care have been broadly questioned and criticized. Unlike some of the current population of gender dysphoric youth, the Dutch study participants had no serious psychological conditions. Those studies were riddled with methodological flaws and weaknesses. There was no evidence that any intervention was lifesaving. There was no long-term follow-up with any of the study’s 55 participants or the 15 who dropped out. A British effort to replicate the study said that it “identified no changes in psychological function” and that more studies were needed.

In countries like Sweden, Norway, France, the Netherlands and Britain — long considered exemplars of gender progress — medical professionals have recognized that early research on medical interventions for childhood gender dysphoria was either faulty or incomplete. Last month, the World Health Organization, in explaining why it is developing “a guideline on the health of trans and gender diverse people,” said it will cover only adults because “the evidence base for children and adolescents is limited and variable regarding the longer-term outcomes of gender-affirming care for children and adolescents.”

But in America, and Canada, the results of those widely criticized Dutch studies are falsely presented to the public as settled science.

Other countries have recently halted or limited the medical and surgical treatment of gender dysphoric youth, pending further study. Britain’s Tavistock clinic was ordered to be shut down next month, after a National Health Service-commissioned investigation found deficiencies in service and “a lack of consensus and open discussion about the nature of gender dysphoria and therefore about the appropriate clinical response.”

Meanwhile, the American medical establishment has hunkered down, stuck in an outdated model of gender affirmation. The American Academy of Pediatrics only recently agreed to conduct more research in response to yearslong efforts by dissenting experts, including Dr. Julia Mason, a self-described “bleeding-heart liberal.”

The larger threat to transgender people comes from Republicans who wish to deny them rights and protections. But the doctrinal rigidity of the progressive wing of the Democratic Party is disappointing, frustrating and counterproductive.

“I was always a liberal Democrat,” one woman whose son desisted after social transition and hormone therapy told me. “Now I feel politically homeless.”

She noted that the Biden administration has “unequivocally” supported gender-affirming care for minors, in cases in which it deems it “medically appropriate and necessary.” Rachel Levine, the assistant secretary for health at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, told NPR in 2022 that “there is no argument among medical professionals — pediatricians, pediatric endocrinologists, adolescent medicine physicians, adolescent psychiatrists, psychologists, et cetera — about the value and the importance of gender-affirming care.”

Of course, politics should not influence medical practice, whether the issue is birth control, abortion or gender medicine. But unfortunately, politics has gotten in the way of progress. Last year The Economist published a thorough investigation into America’s approach to gender medicine. Zanny Minton Beddoes, the editor, put the issue into political context. “If you look internationally at countries in Europe, the U.K. included, their medical establishments are much more concerned,” Beddoes told Vanity Fair. “But here — in part because this has become wrapped up in the culture wars where you have, you know, crazy extremes from the Republican right — if you want to be an upstanding liberal, you feel like you can’t say anything.”

Some people are trying to open up that dialogue, or at least provide outlets for kids and families to seek a more therapeutic approach to gender dysphoria.

Paul Garcia-Ryan is a psychotherapist in New York who cares for kids and families seeking holistic, exploratory care for gender dysphoria. He is also a detransitioner who from ages 15 to 30 fully believed he was a woman.

Garcia-Ryan is gay, but as a boy, he said, “it was much less threatening to my psyche to think that I was a straight girl born into the wrong body — that I had a medical condition that could be tended to.” When he visited a clinic at 15, the clinician immediately affirmed he was female, and rather than explore the reasons for his mental distress, simply confirmed Garcia-Ryan’s belief that he was not meant to be a man.

Once in college, he began medically transitioning and eventually had surgery on his genitals. Severe medical complications from both the surgery and hormone medication led him to reconsider what he had done, and to detransition. He also reconsidered the basis of gender affirmation, which, as a licensed clinical social worker at a gender clinic, he had been trained in and provided to clients.

“You’re made to believe these slogans,” he said. “Evidence-based, lifesaving care, safe and effective, medically necessary, the science is settled — and none of that is evidence based.”

Garcia-Ryan, 32, is now the board president of Therapy First, an organization that supports therapists who do not agree with the gender affirmation model. He thinks transition can help some people manage the symptoms of gender dysphoria but no longer believes anyone under 25 should socially, medically or surgically transition without exploratory psychotherapy first.

“When a professional affirms a gender identity for a younger person, what they are doing is implementing a psychological intervention that narrows a person’s sense of self and closes off their options for considering what’s possible for them,” Garcia-Ryan told me.

Instead of promoting unproven treatments for children, which surveys show many Americans are uncomfortable with, transgender activists would be more effective if they focused on a shared agenda. Most Americans across the political spectrum can agree on the need for legal protections for transgender adults. They would also probably support additional research on the needs of young people reporting gender dysphoria so that kids could get the best treatment possible.

A shift in this direction would model tolerance and acceptance. It would prioritize compassion over demonization. It would require rising above culture-war politics and returning to reason. It would be the most humane path forward. And it would be the right thing to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*

For those who want tor ead more by those fighting the cancellation forquestioning, read:

Graham Lineham, who's been fighting since the beginning and paid the price, but is not seeing things turn around.

The Glinner Update, Grahan Linehan's Substack.

Kellie-Jay Keen @ThePosieParker, who's been physically attacked for organizing events for women demanding women-only spaces.

REDUXX, Feminst news & opinion.

Gays Against Groomers @againstgrmrs, A nonprofit of gay people and others within the community against the sexualization, indoctrination and medicalization of children under the guise of "LGBTQIA+"