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kwilquib · 19 days ago

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We can't be Friends Anymore

Yuqi (🐶) x Male Reader (📖)

switching pov

Word Count: 13.6k

a/n: tried experimenting with switching pov in 2nd person, and testing some dividers format.

The campus hums—students sprawl on the lawn or dart between classes. You’re propped against the library railing, nursing a half-hearted coffee, when familiar faces roll up.

“Yo, isn’t Yuqi your friend?” one of them asks, a little too casually.

You already know where this is going.

“She is,” you confirm, watching as they exchange looks.

“So, she’s actually single?” another cuts in, voice skeptical. “No hidden boyfriend? No messy situationship?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Nope. No secret anything. Just her and her oversized ego.”

That seems to encourage them. Someone whistles low. “Damn. Think I got a shot?”

You pretend to consider it. “Honestly? Go for it.”

That gets a reaction—a few surprised laughs, one guy nudging the other in mock encouragement.

“I mean it,” you continue, shrugging. “Might do her some good to have someone other than textbooks and late-night ramen occupying her brain. She hyper-fixates way too much on school.”

“She does look kinda intense,” one of them admits.

“Oh, she’s a menace,” you say easily. “But here’s the thing—Yuqi’s also insanely narcissistic. If you confess to her, she’d eat that up. She lives to be reminded how pretty she is.”

That earns a round of laughter.

“So you’re saying I should just walk up to her, tell her she’s gorgeous, and I’m in?”

You smirk. “Depends. Can you handle being ignored for two weeks when she gets too busy? Or her texting you at 2 AM just to brag about an exam score?”

The guy groans. “Yeah, nah. I don’t have the mental strength for that.”

Another one shakes his head. “Dude, why’s it sound like you’re feeding us to the wolves?”

You lift a brow. “Hey, you’re the ones asking.”

They chuckle, muttering something about how Yuqi’s beauty really is a waste if she’s just gonna be married to academia forever. You don’t think much of it—this isn’t the first time people have asked you about her, and it won’t be the last.

Besides, it’s not like it matters to you.

“Asking about what?”

The voice cuts through the conversation, unmistakable and laced with curiosity.

You don’t even have to turn around. You already know.

Yuqi stands there, arms crossed, one brow raised in that signature I-know-you’re-up-to-something expression. She looks effortlessly put together despite probably running on four hours of sleep and an unreasonable amount of caffeine. Her oversized hoodie hangs loosely off one shoulder, and she’s got that ever-present glint of amusement in her eyes—sharp, calculating, and just a little too pleased with catching you off guard.

The group stiffens. One guy actually takes half a step back, like she might call him out by name.

You take your time, sipping your drink before finally acknowledging her. “Oh, nothing much. Just these guys wondering if you’re single and available.”

Her gaze flicks toward them, slow and deliberate.

“Hmm.” She taps her chin, pretending to think. “And? What did you tell them?”

You smirk. “Told them to go for it. That you’d love being reminded how pretty you are.”

Yuqi scoffs, but you don’t miss the way her lips twitch upward. “Wow. Advertising me like I’m a limited-time offer?”

“I mean, you are in high demand.”

She tilts her head, feigning boredom. “And yet, nobody’s brave enough to try.”

The guys exchange awkward laughs, none of them willing to step up to the challenge. One clears his throat and mutters something about being late for class before they all make a quick exit, leaving just you and Yuqi standing there.

She watches them go, then turns back to you, unimpressed. “You really have zero faith in my love life, huh?”

“Not my fault your standards are ridiculous.”

“They’re not ridiculous,” she argues, flicking a piece of lint off her sleeve. “They’re refined.”

You shake your head, chuckling. “Whatever you say, Your Highness.”

She hums, studying you for a second too long. Then, with a smirk, she leans in slightly. “And what about you?”

You blink. “What about me?”

Yuqi’s grin sharpens. “Would you confess to me?”

She’s teasing, tossing it out like it’s nothing—just another jab in your years-long game.

So why does it land heavier this time?

“Hello??” She waves a hand in front of your face. “Stop zoning out like you’re actually thinking about it— are you?”

“Hell no,” you shoot back, forcing a laugh. “I know you’re full of yourself, but that’s taking it too far.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms. “Right. As if you could handle me anyway.”

‘God, she’s so annoying.’

She’s good-looking—annoyingly so. The kind of person who doesn’t even have to try. But when she does, she’s exceptional. Yuqi never settles. If she can push herself further, she will. She likes to joke that her father drilled perfectionism into her at three years old. You believe it. It shows in the way she studies, the way she carries herself, the way she acts like the world should revolve around her—and sometimes, it almost does.

You met her at the start of college—multiple run-ins on the same day. Apparently, that was enough for her to decide you were friends. From then on, Yuqi stuck around, pulling you into her orbit.

Rumors, of course, followed. They always do. But your relationship with Yuqi wasn’t that. Never that. It wasn’t shallow, like something you could fall in and out of, love or hate.

Best friends. Neither too close nor too distant. Something steady. Something comforting.

…Or at least, it should’ve been.

~🐶~

“Then… I can live with you.”

The words cut through the gentle hum of the café, slipping into the space between you and her without warning.

Yuqi, halfway through savoring a forkful of cake, stilling at the sudden proposition. The sweetness on her tongue dulls as her mind processes what she just heard.

Outside, the streetside view stretches beyond the window, pedestrians weaving through the early evening rush, neon signs flickering to life. It had been a peaceful moment—her, indulging in dessert, the warm glow of café lights, the casual murmur of other patrons.

And then that.

Her gaze snaps up, eyebrows slightly raised. She had been so focused on her food, on the comforting ritual of eating something sweet after a long day, that she almost forgot she wasn’t sitting here alone.

Across from her, you sit, arms crossed, looking entirely too casual for someone who just threw out a life-altering suggestion.

“…What?” Her fork hovers, eyes narrowing as she rewinds the last five minutes. Housing gripes, sure. Minnie’s betrayal, yeah. But this? “Hold up—did you just say live with me? Where the hell did that come from?”

“You just said it a minute ago, aren't you in trouble because you got stood up?”

Yuqi clicks her tongue at the memory, the taste of betrayal lingering far worse than the cake melting on her tongue.

Minnie—her supposed roommate, her supposed friend—had bailed on her at the last minute.

She had just signed the lease when the call came.

"Yuqi… I’m sorry, I don’t think I can live with you… My boyfriend offered to live with him, and I couldn’t refuse. You understand, right?? Thank you…"

Yuqi had barely gotten out a, “Wait, what? Minnie, I just signed the lease—hold on—” before the call ended.

That was two days ago.

Now, here she was, sitting in a café with you, still trying to figure out how to deal with it.

And your grand solution? Living together.

Yuqi swirls her straw in her drink, staring at you like you’ve just suggested something insane—which, to be fair, you have.

“I also have to move next month,” you continue, unfazed. “My office is closer there. So it’s perfect timing.”

“No way. Too weird—thanks, but no.” She chugs her drink, as if that will help wash away the absurdity of this conversation. “For now, I’ll call the real estate office for a cancellation.”

“And your job starts next month,” you counter, unfazed. “Good luck apartment-hunting in zero time.”

“Hmm… I guess I’ll have to postpone my work too.” Her fork idly plays with the remains of her cake, breaking it down into a mess of crumbs. Just moments ago, she had been enjoying it, and now she can’t even bring herself to take another bite. “I’ll just go back to my parents’ house, and—”

“You can’t do that.”

Yuqi frowns. “What?”

“Did you forget? I also wanted to go home, and you didn’t let me. That’s the reason I got the job I was dreaming of.”

She clicks her tongue. “See what happens when you just listen to me?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself— Give it up, you’re not pushing back your work.” You lean back, arms crossed. “Am I not your friend? Aren’t we supposed to help each other when we’re in trouble?”

Yuqi exhales, pressing her lips together. As much as she hates to admit it, you have a point.

It’s only temporary. A practical solution. Why shouldn’t she take it?

For the past two days, she had been dreading this mess—mentally calculating costs, debating whether she should force herself into a last-minute roommate arrangement with a complete stranger.

And now, just like that, you’ve handed her the perfect fix.

Her shoulders, tense from the weight of this problem, feel noticeably lighter. The only thing that irks her is that she didn’t think of this first.

“…Yeah, you’re right. We’re friends.” She leans back, eyeing you. “There’s no reason for me to decline. Especially not after all that pleading.”

“pleading?? I’m not the one who needs help here.”

“Fine. How much you chipping in?”

“Fifty-fifty. What, you think I’m just going to give you easy money?”

“If you’re volunteering…” She smirks, leaning in just enough to taunt.

You shake your head, scoffing. “Unbelievable.”

And so, the cohabitation between you and Yuqi begins.

~~~

There are private rooms, clear boundaries. As long as neither of you misjudges the sense of distance between you, nothing will change.

At least, that’s what you both assume.

The first few weeks go exactly as expected—well, mostly.

Yuqi doesn’t have to worry about rent anymore. There’s no awkward adjustment period, no need to tiptoe around like she would with a stranger. You’re not the worst person to live with, either. Sure, you’re irritating sometimes—leaving your notes scattered on the dining table, stealing the last of the coffee, acting smug whenever you manage to fix something she can’t—but she’s always known that about you.

What she didn’t expect was how quickly she gets used to you being there.

It’s the little things.

The way she hears the front door open and instinctively knows it’s you. The way you always leave the light on when you come home late because you know she stays up reading.

One night, she passes by the kitchen and finds you there, reheating food. You glance up. “You haven’t eaten yet?”

She shrugs, stealing a piece of your food before you can swat her hand away. “Hey—”

“It’s fine, I’m not that hungry.”

You exhale, shaking your head. “You do this every time. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

Yuqi frowns. “What?”

“You always scold me for skipping meals, but look at you.”

She rolls her eyes, but something in her chest stirs at the fact that you noticed.

It happens again when she comes home exhausted one evening and finds her favorite drink sitting on the counter. When she glances at you, raising a brow, you just shrug. “Thought you’d need it.”

And again, when she’s cramming for a presentation and you drop a snack beside her without a word.

She tells herself it’s normal. You’re friends. Friends do things like this.

Another moment.

Yuqi is in the kitchen early one morning, half-awake as she absentmindedly flips an egg in the pan. She isn’t much of a cook, but breakfast is simple enough—something warm to start the day before the madness of work and school kicks in.

She’s focused on the sizzling sound, the comforting routine of it, when she suddenly feels movement behind her.

Then—warmth.

You’re reaching over her, one hand bracing the counter beside her, the other stretching toward the cupboard above.

For a split second, she’s caught off guard by how close you are—close enough that she can feel the faint heat of your body against her back, close enough that she catches the lingering scent of your shampoo, something fresh and clean.

Her heartbeat stutters.

Instinct kicks in before logic does, and she turns around—only to make things worse.

Now, instead of your presence behind her, she’s face-to-face with you.

Too close.

Way too close.

Her eyes meet yours, and for some reason, it feels like neither of you moves for a second too long. Her pulse is loud in her ears, and she doesn’t know why she’s suddenly so aware of the way her breath catches—why her fingers tighten slightly around the spatula in her hand.

She’s being weird again.

“You…” She clears her throat, trying to sound unaffected. “Need something?”

You blink, as if snapping out of it, and gesture toward the cupboard. “Just getting a mug.”

Right. Obviously.

She mentally curses herself and quickly steps aside, turning her focus back to the stove. It’s nothing. You’re just tired. That’s all.

But then one morning, she walks into the living room, still groggy from sleep, and finds you sitting on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling on your phone. Sunlight streams through the window, catching in your hair. You’re wearing that old, worn-out hoodie you refuse to throw away, looking like you belong there—like you belong with her.

And something about it makes her stomach flip in a way it shouldn’t.

Yuqi stands frozen in the hallway, gripping her coffee mug, heartbeat slightly off rhythm.

She doesn’t like where her thoughts are going.

She really, really doesn’t.

So she does what she always does when faced with something uncomfortable—she brushes it aside.

She’s just being weird.

It’s nothing.

It has to be nothing.

“Hey.”

Your voice cuts through the silence, snapping Yuqi out of her thoughts.

She blinks, stiffening slightly. “What?”

“You got any plans today?”

Her mind races. Why is he asking? Is he—wait, is he inviting me somewhere? A… date?

“Wh—why?” she asks, trying (and failing) to sound casual.

You shrug. “Nothing. Just asking.” There’s a pause before you add, “I’ll be home late, though. No need to wait up.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms. “Since when do I wait for you?”

You don’t answer, and somehow, that makes it worse.

Irritated, she presses on. “Why? Where are you going?”

“Meeting someone,” you say, vague as hell.

Her brows crash together. “Wait—a date? What, you’re flaunting it now?”

You smirk, dodging the question, and something sour twists in her gut—she hates that smirk, hates how it needles her, hates that she cares.

Before she can push further, a realization slams into her. “Oh—shit, work!”

Panic sets in as she scrambles toward the bathroom, cursing under her breath. Just as she reaches the door, she pauses, whipping around to point an accusing finger at you.

“Fuck you, you did that on purpose. You were distracting me!”

From the couch, you barely glance up from your phone before lazily flipping her off.

She slams the bathroom door, heart thudding too hard to unpack.

Hours later, she’s a wreck—work crushed her soul, her boss barely grunted at her efforts, and every mistake she made still burns.

She doesn’t even remember how she made it home. Everything from today—the endless stress, the way her boss barely acknowledged her work, the stupid mistakes she made because she was too exhausted to think straight—it all clings to her like dead weight.

It feels even shittier knowing what today was supposed to be.

Her first work anniversary. One year. A milestone that should mean something, should feel like progress. Instead, she feels like she’s still fumbling, still struggling to prove herself, still barely keeping up.

Her head pounds. Her chest feels tight.

And maybe—just maybe—what makes it worse is that today also marks one year since she moved in with you.

One year of this place feeling like home.

But right now, standing in the entryway, shoes barely kicked off, she just feels… drained.

She wants to cry.

Not in a dramatic, loud way. Just… silently. Curled up on the couch, alone in the dimly lit apartment, where she could finally let go without anyone seeing.

She’s relieved you aren’t home yet.

She doesn’t have to keep it together.

With a deep breath, she pushes open the door—

Pop!

Confetti explodes, and Yuqi flinches, pulse spiking as cake-scent floods her senses.

Streamers dangle, a crooked banner sags on the wall, and there you are—grinning like an idiot with a party popper, like you didn’t just ambush her fragile grip on sanity.

“Congratulations!”

She just… stares.

The weight—dread, fatigue, the whole suffocating mess—frays apart, leaving her raw.

“You made it a whole year,” you continue, motioning toward the cake on the table. “That’s huge. So, you know… I figured we should celebrate.”

It’s too much.

Not in the way work had been too much.

But in the way you always are.

Always paying attention. Always noticing the things she doesn’t say.

Always making it impossible for her to pretend this—you—don’t matter more than they should.

Her throat tightens.

Her fingers twitch, and she grips the strap of her bag a little harder, like she needs to hold onto something—anything—to keep herself from completely unraveling in front of you.

Right now, she wants to collapse into you—arms, warmth, all of it—and that scares her shitless.

She swallows hard, choking out, “You’re an idiot,” as she steps past, voice thinner than she means it to be.

“You’re welcome,” you shoot back easily, like this is just another one of your usual exchanges.

She sets her bag down. Breathes in.

But it’s different now. Everything feels different now.

Because this isn’t something she can brush off anymore.

Not when the sight of you—standing there, waiting for her—could turn her worst day into something else entirely.

She thought to herself. At this rate…

… we couldn’t be friends anymore…

… Is what you thought.

It crept up on you slowly.

At first, living with Yuqi was just supposed to be convenient. A temporary solution, nothing more. You were friends—it was easy, effortless, like always.

But then, things started changing.

You woke up earlier than expected, your throat dry, half-asleep as you dragged yourself toward the kitchen.

But before you could even reach the sink, the bathroom door swung open—

—and Yuqi stepped out. signing in fragments, lyrics clearly improvised, steam curling around her like a scene straight out of a movie.

Your brain short-circuited.

Dripping hair. Bare shoulders. A towel wrapped hugging around her body, another loosely draped over her head. She wasn’t even fully dry yet, droplets trailing down her collarbone, tracing down to her chest, disappearing beneath—

Oh, fuck.

She froze mid-step, finally noticing you.

“Oh, shit!”

Your mouth opened before your brain could catch up. “Morning.”

Her grip tightened on the towel around her chest. “You—you’re up early.”

“And you’re… in towels.”

A beat of silence.

Don’t say something stupid. Don’t say something stu—

“Yeah, you have to stop doing that.”

Yuqi scowled. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I wouldn’t if that wasn’t my towel on your head.”

“why is it a big deal, this is my home—”

“I pay for half.”

She narrowed her eyes. “It’s my house. I’ll do what I want.”

And before you could argue, she yanked the towel off her head and chucked it straight at your face.

By the time you pulled it away, she was already gone, bolting to her room like her life depended on it.

Then—

A muffled scream of frustration from behind her door.

You exhaled sharply, pressing the towel against your face—less to dry off, more to hide the heat creeping up your skin.

“Fuck.”

Then there was this one time, when you were setting up the new shelf.

Yuqi insisted she didn’t need help—because of course she did—but five minutes in, she was already struggling to balance the frame while reaching for the screws.

"You're gonna drop it," you warned, watching from the couch.

"I'm not gonna drop it," she shot back, fumbling with the last screw.

The universe, apparently, took that as a challenge.

The shelf wobbled. Yuqi yelped. And before either of you could react, she lost her footing.

She crashed into you, sending you both toppling backward.

A thud, a gasp, and suddenly—

She was on top of you.

Chest pressing into yours. Hands braced on either side of your head. Her face so close that you could feel her breath against your lips, just barely—

Neither of you moved.

Yuqi’s eyes flickered down—just for a second, barely noticeable—before snapping back up, wide and unguarded.

You swallowed.

“…You okay?” Your voice came out rougher than intended.

“I—” She blinked, like she just realized what happened. Her breath hitched. Then, in the most unconvincing voice possible— “Yeah. Totally fine.”

Neither of you made a move to get up.

The moment stretched, tension thick enough to drown in.

Then—

“Yuqi.”

“What?”

“You're still on top of me.”

“…Oh. Right.”

She scrambled off, way too fast for someone who was supposedly “totally fine.” Turning away, she ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply.

You sat up, clearing your throat. The air between you still felt charged, buzzing with something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

She finally looked at you—pointedly not at your lips.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

You hadn’t even said anything yet.

And then there were the bad days.

Yuqi was loud.

You were used to it by now—the way she talked, argued, and debated like she was on some national stage. But tonight, it was worse. Her voice carried through the living room, sharp and insistent, cutting through the walls of your room.

You could tell she wasn’t just talking—she was venting.

You didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t step in.

Just waited.

Then—

A knock on your door.

Soft, hesitant. Almost out of character.

“…You wanna drink?”

When you opened the door, Yuqi was standing there, arms crossed, gaze flickering to the side. The frustration from earlier had dimmed, replaced by something more subdued.

You didn’t question it. Just grabbed your jacket. “Let’s go.”

The city felt different at night. Quieter, almost peaceful, the usual rush of people replaced by empty sidewalks and the occasional streetlight glow.

Yuqi walked beside you, hands stuffed in her pockets, gaze tilted toward the sky. The stars were faint, barely visible between the buildings, but she looked at them anyway.

“…You ever feel like you’re running out of time?”

You glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

She exhaled, kicking a stray pebble on the pavement. “I dunno. Just—sometimes it feels like I need to keep going. Like if I stop, even for a second, I’ll fall behind. And I hate that feeling.”

You stayed quiet, letting her talk.

“But then I think… what if I don’t even know where I’m running to?”

That, you understood.

You let the silence settle before answering. “You don’t have to figure everything out now, you know.”

She scoffed. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“Is it?” You gave her a pointed look. “You’re the one who’s always giving me advice.”

Yuqi opened her mouth—then shut it, visibly chewing over your words.

You smirked. “Not so fun being on the other end, huh?”

She shoved your shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

The walk continued, and little by little, the weight in her expression faded. The tension in her shoulders eased, her usual energy returning in small doses—first in the way she kicked at a stray pebble, then in how she scoffed at one of your dumb remarks.

By the time you made it back to your place, she was… lighter.

As you reached the door, she stretched her arms above her head with a sigh. “You know what? I don’t think I need that drink anymore.”

You raised a brow. “So I got dragged out here for nothing?”

“I never dragged you—”

You gave her a look.

“…Okay, maybe a little,” she admitted, rolling her eyes. Then, after a beat, softer—“But it helped, so. Thanks.”

A pause.

Then, quieter—“I mean it.”

You stared at her, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a halo over her face.

Something shifted.

The air felt heavier, charged with something neither of you dared name. It would’ve been easy to brush it off, to make a joke and keep walking—

But before you could find the words, she turned away, already unlocking the door.

“Alright, I’m going to bed. Night, loser.”

The moment passed, or at least, it should have.

But just as you were about to head to your room, Yuqi hesitated.

She turned back, her hand lingering on the doorknob, lips parting like she wanted to say something—then stopping. You caught it then, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, rare and fleeting.

And then, finally—

“…Hey.”

You raised a brow. “What?”

She exhaled, tapping her fingers against the doorframe. “Do you remember that stupid bet we made during freshman year?”

You blinked. “Which one?”

“The one where if either of us ever fell for the other, your dic…” She trailed off, then cleared her throat. “Y’know. And I’d have to shave my head.”

You let out a short laugh. “Oh. That bet.”

Back then, rumors about you two dating spread so quickly it became a joke among your classmates. You and Yuqi played along, turning it into a challenge—there’s no way we’d fall for each other. If either of you did, the consequences were extreme.

It was dumb.

It was funny.

It should’ve stayed that way.

But that night?

that night, the words felt heavier.

You studied her expression, trying to gauge where she was going with this. “Why? You getting nervous?”

She scoffed. “Pfft. You wish.”

But there was something in the way she said it. A little too quick, a little too defensive.

You smirked. “Worried about your hair, huh?”

“More like you should be worried,” she shot back, but she wasn’t looking at you when she said it.

You snorted. “Unfair, by the way. I have to cut my dick off, while you only have to shave your head. I can’t believe we agreed to it.”

“…Me either,” she mumbled under her breath.

It was so quiet, so fleeting, you almost missed it. Almost.

For a split second, neither of you spoke.

Then she rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I was just asking. Night, loser.”

Before you could respond, she was inside, the door clicking shut behind her.

You stood there for a second, staring at the empty space where she had just been.

Your bet.

Freshman year.

We will never fall for each other.

You exhaled, running a hand down your face as the thought echoed in your head.

It was supposed to be a joke. A ridiculous bet between two people who swore they’d never be that kind of cliché.

And yet…

Tonight happened.

You expected her to be surprised by the celebration. Maybe even a little annoyed at the mess—the scattered decorations, the cake waiting on the table, the small banner you hastily put together.

What you didn’t expect was the way her expression cracked—just for a second. The way her eyes softened, something raw and unguarded flickering across her face before she caught herself. Before she scoffed, gripping her bag a little too tightly, and muttered, “You’re such an idiot.”

You should’ve let it go. Just laughed, moved on, kept things the way they were.

But she didn’t move.

She stood there, caught between hesitation and something she wouldn’t name, and suddenly, it wasn’t just about tonight.

It was about all of it—the late-night talks when she came home exhausted but still found a way to smile, the quiet gestures, the way she made space for you without even realizing it.

It was the fact that today wasn’t just one year since she started her job.

It was one year since she moved in. One year since this place started feeling a little fuller. A little more like home.

And it hit you then.

All the moments that snuck up on you, that built up piece by piece until there was no more denying it.

Because at some point—somewhere between the shared space, the stolen glances, the lines you swore you’d never cross—

You started falling for her too.

The apartment was quiet except for the soft clinking of utensils against ceramic.

Yuqi sat across from you, the warm glow of the dining room light casting a soft hue over her face. She took a bite, chewing slowly, and then—there it was.

That small, bittersweet smile.

You didn’t know what it meant, not exactly. But you knew it wasn’t the usual smug grin she wore when she teased you, nor the triumphant smirk she had when she got her way.

It was softer. More subdued. Like she was savoring something that wasn’t just the food.

You should’ve looked away. Focused on your plate. Kept things normal. But you didn’t.

Instead, you watched her, your grip tightening around your fork as the weight of everything settled in your chest.

You weren’t looking at her as a friend. Not anymore.

After dinner, Yuqi disappeared into her room while you started cleaning up. You heard the faint rustling of fabric, the sound of a drawer closing, but you didn’t think much of it—until she reemerged.

She padded into the living room in an old t-shirt and a pair of short shorts, her hair slightly damp, probably from washing up. The sight of her like this—comfortable, effortless—made something twist in your chest, but you shoved it down.

Wordlessly, she plopped onto the couch as you finished wiping the table, then leaned back against the cushions, stretching her legs out lazily.

By the time you grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, she was already making herself at home, one arm draped over the backrest like she belonged there.

You handed her a can, and she took it without a word, cracking it open with a soft hiss.

The TV flickered in the dimly lit apartment, the background noise of a movie filling the space between you.

At some point, between the second beer and the slow lull of the film, Yuqi leaned into the cushions, her body naturally angling toward yours.

Neither of you said much—just the occasional comment, the quiet laughter. But even in the silence, it felt... easy. Comfortable.

And then the credits rolled.

The screen faded to black, leaving nothing but the soft glow from the city lights seeping through the window. The noise stopped.

And yet, you didn’t reach for the remote.

You glanced at her, watching as she traced the rim of her bottle with her thumb. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something contemplative in the way she exhaled, sinking deeper into the couch.

You hesitated, then asked, “Everything okay at work?”

She blinked, as if shaking off a thought. “Ye—yeah. Just some problems here and there, I guess.”

“Nothing you couldn’t handle, I assume.”

She snorted, tilting her head to look at you. “Of course not. Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

There she was again—the Yuqi you knew. The one who never backed down, who met everything head-on with that sharp, unshaken confidence.

But you’d seen her earlier. The way she lingered at the door. The way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes tonight.

You hummed, setting your bottle down. “That so?”

Her brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you mused, stretching your arm along the back of the couch. “Just wondering if the great Song Yuqi is finally showing signs of weakness.”

She scoffed, turning to fully face you now, eyes narrowing. “You—”

Then, without warning, she flicked your forehead. Hard.

You flinched. “Ow—what the hell?”

“That’s for being annoying,” she said smugly, leaning back like she’d won something.

Oh. That’s how she wanted to play it?

Fine.

You barely gave her a second to react before your hand shot out, fingers pressing into her side.

The moment she realized what was happening, her smirk vanished.

“Wait—no! No, no, no! Don't tickle me” she yelped, twisting away instinctively. “You—asshole—stop!”

But you didn’t stop.

“Think you can flick me and walk away?” you taunted, fingers digging into her sides, relentless as she writhed against the couch, laughter spilling wild between you.

You pressed in, grinning, chasing her squirming frame—her giggles breaking apart into breathless, jagged bursts. She swatted at you, sloppy and weak, but you had the upper hand, her strength no match for yours.

“Admit it,” you teased, skimming the tender spot just below her ribs, knowing it’d unravel her.

“N-never—!” she choked out, twisting under you, her voice fraying as she fought your grip.

The couch groaned under the tussle—her thrashing, your weight shifting—and without thinking, you slid forward, pinning her deeper into the cushions. Your knee nudged between her thighs, pressing firm against her heat.

It didn’t register at first—too lost in the game, her laughter ringing sharp and bright. But then her giggles stumbled, thinning into ragged breaths. Her hands, once shoving, latched onto your arms, fingers digging in—not pushing now, but clinging.

You felt it—the hitch in her chest, the way her body stiffened, then softened, melting against you. Her laughter faded, replaced by something breathier, needier—a sound caught halfway between a gasp and a plea.

And then it slipped out—a moan, soft and unbidden, trembling past her lips.

Everything froze.

Your fingers stalled against her waist, her nails bit into your skin, and the air turned thick, electric. Her eyes snapped wide, lips parted, shock flickering over her face as her breath raced—short, shallow, unraveling.

Your pulse thundered, drowning out the silence, and that’s when you clocked it—your knee, still wedged between her thighs, pressed flush against her warmth.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you breathed.

The laughter was dead.

Something else took its place—hot, heavy, and undeniable.

You cleared your throat, a feeble attempt to break the spell, to shake off the weight of what had just happened. Slowly, you pulled away, putting space between you before you lost the will to.

Your eyes flickered anywhere but at her—afraid to see what lingered in her expression. Fear? Surprise? Or something else entirely?

You pushed yourself up, ready to remove yourself from the couch, from the heat still clinging to your skin—But then. A tug. Subtle, hesitant.

Fingers curled around your wrist, just tight enough to stop you. To hold you in place.

To keep you from leaving the moment.

You turned, catching the flush creeping up her neck, her lips parted as she refused to meet your gaze.

“Yuqi…” you groaned, your voice strained, warning.

Her grip on your wrist tightened. “Do—don’t leave.”

That was all it took.

You moved back toward her, hesitant but drawn in all the same. The space between you shrank, your breath mingling with hers, lips barely a whisper apart. Her fingers twitched against your skin, but she didn’t pull away.

You could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her chest rose and fell, the way her body swayed ever so slightly in your direction. Just a little more and—

“Wait—!”

Her hands shot up, pressing against your chest—not forceful, not pushing you away completely, but enough to halt you in place.

Your jaw clenched. You stayed there, hovering, pulse hammering in your throat.

“What do you want, Yuqi?” you asked, your voice low, steady despite the storm inside you. “Be clear with me.”

She hesitated, eyes darting anywhere but yours. You felt it—the war within her, the pull and the push, the fear and the want.

You exhaled, nodding slightly. “Okay.”

You started to move back, giving her the space she seemed to need—

But then, just as you did, her arms looped around your neck, her body pressing against yours, her warmth, her scent, her head rising for her lips to meet yours.

Briefly, she pulls away gauging your reaction.

You cursed under your breath, a quiet, ragged sound, because you knew—knew—that if she kept holding onto you like this, you wouldn’t be able to stop.

Your hands found her waist, fingers curling instinctively, and before you could think better of it, you scooped her up.

Yuqi gasped, eyes widening. “Wha—what are you doing?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

You carried her past the dimly lit hallway, You stop at before the doors of your rooms.

Yuqi who had grasp your intention, murmured close to your chest “Mine—my room.” giving a answer to your conundrum.

Carrying her through the threshold of her room, our grip firm yet careful, your body thrumming with something dangerously close to surrender.

Then, as gently as you could, you set her down.

The bed dipped beneath her weight, her body sinking into the sheets.

And for a moment—just one agonizing moment—silence stretched between you. To pause. To asses. To decide.

Her breath came in uneven waves, fingers clutching the comforter beneath her, knuckles whitening as if it were an anchor. She looked like she was bracing herself—teetering on the edge of a decision, weighing what came next.

You hovered above her, resolve fraying, the heat of her body pulling you closer, unraveling every thread of restraint—

“…The—the door,” she whispered, voice barely audible, trembling with something fragile.

You pulled back, glancing toward it. “If I lock that, there’s no turning back.”

Her eyes flickered, wide and searching, then steadied. “I—I think it’s… it’ll be okay. If it’s you, I want it.”

The door clicked shut with her words, a soft, final sound that echoed in the quiet. You returned to her, sliding back onto the bed, looming over her frame—close enough to feel the faint tremor in her breath. “Do you even know what you just said?”

“Stop talking to me like a kid,” she snapped, her voice sharpening, though it wavered at the edges.

“That’s not an answer.” You held her gaze, unflinching. “Do you want to sleep with me?”

“Uh… yes.” The word slipped out, small and shaky, laced with fear and a defiance testing her own limits. She swallowed hard, then added, “Why? Don’t you want to?”

You shifted closer, your nose brushing hers, so near you could taste the alcohol on her breath—sharp and warm, mingling with the heat radiating off her skin. Her heavy exhales grazed your lips, and the air between you thickened, charged with something neither of you could name.

“What is this?” you murmured, half to yourself. Song Yuqi—bold, unshakable Yuqi—lay beneath you, face flushed crimson, pride crumbling into doubt. Her words stumbled, her usual fire dimmed, and you couldn’t help but press. “Are you really Yuqi?”

Maybe you were stalling too—teasing her, skirting the edge of what you both knew was coming, afraid to leap.

Then, out of nowhere, her hand shot up, smacking your chin with a clumsy shove, forcing distance between you.

“Ugh! I don’t know anymore, okay?! I haven't done this before!” she yelled, voice cracking with frustration. “Just—hurry up and show me your dick already!”

Her legs thrashed, feet flailing against the mattress in a wild, petulant burst. “You—crazy—woman” you blurt out.

You lunged forward, seizing her ankles, pinning them to the mattress with a firm, unyielding grip. “Calm down,” you said, voice low and steady, anchoring her as her chest heaved, the wild outburst dissolving into a taut, trembling stillness.

Her eyes flashed, defiant even now. “What, are you scared?”

You leaned in close, her challenge igniting something reckless in you. “You’re about to get fucked senseless.”

She smirked, unshaken, her voice a dare. “I think you’re the one who’s sca—sacred. Prove it.”

You crashed into her, lips seizing hers with raw, tongue intruding into her mouth, bruising hunger. Your hand slid up, fingers knotting in the back of her hair, yanking her closer—deeper—until no space remained, her frantic breaths fusing with yours in a desperate, unrelenting tangle.

Your other hand found her breast, cupping it firmly, and a sharp whimper broke from her throat—soft, unguarded, trembling against your mouth.

You pulled back just enough to rasp, “Do you want more? Tell me if you don’t.” “Ah!” she gasped, startled by the sudden absence of your lips, her voice faltering. “Uh—uh… it’s okay…”

You dove back in, claiming her mouth again, fiercer now, your hand slipping beneath her shirt.

Fingers roamed her chest, squeezing through the thin fabric of her bra, rucking up her clothes in the chaos. The hem of her shirt climbed past her breasts, her bra tugged askew—one pale pink nipple already peeking free, stark against her skin.

“Yu—qi,” you murmured, breaking the kiss again, though your lips hovered close, tethered by a glistening thread of saliva that refused to snap. “Do you want this?”

“I want it, yes,” she panted, breathless, her words tumbling out in a rush.

You guided her arms up, stretching them straight above her head, and she followed—pliant, trusting.

Your hands gripped the edge of her dress, peeling it upward, sliding it off in one fluid pull. Then, just as swiftly, you hooked her shorts, tugging them down as she lifted her legs to help, the fabric slipping free and pooling forgotten on the floor.

There she lay—pale skin glowing faintly in the dim light, her fit frame taut and trembling. Blonde hair spilled across the bed in wild, tangled waves, framing her like a halo gone rogue. Her white underwear clung to her hips, stark against her flush, one bra strap sagging, the displaced cup exposing a modest breast, its pink nipple hardened in the cool air. She blushed deep, one arm crossing shyly over her waist, the other hovering near her mouth, fingers brushing her lips as if to hide.

Her eyes darted away, unable to hold yours. “Why are you just staring?” she mumbled, voice small, edged with nerves she couldn’t quite mask.

You exhaled, a faint chuckle slipping out as you shook your head. “I’m just trying to figure out how you still look like a menace even when you’re—” Your words snagged mid-sentence as her glare cut through you, her cheeks blazing.

“Don’t,” she warned, voice tight.

You smirked, tilting your head. “Don’t what?”

Her eyes narrowed, sharp and accusing. “You know what.”

You leaned in, your breath grazing her skin, close enough to feel her tense. “What? I thought you lived for praise about your beauty.”

She swallowed hard, throat bobbing, fingers twisting into the sheets. Then, so soft it nearly slipped past—

“It’s different when it’s you.”

“Well, you are beautiful, Yuqi. I mean it.”

Her breath hitched at the words, a flicker of protest rising—ready to snap at your sly jab—but before she could, your lips found her neck, pressing firm and warm. Your hand slid to her breast, fingers brushing the exposed nipple, teasing it into a stiff peak.

She stiffened, a fleeting push against your chest, but it melted away fast—her resistance crumbling as you lavished her skin with attention.

“It… tickles,” she murmured, voice wobbling, half a complaint, half a surrender.

Your hand snaked behind her, deftly unhooking her bra with a flick. You tugged it free, letting it fall aside, her breasts spilling out—modest, pale, and perfect in the dim light. No hesitation—you dove in, lips closing over one nipple, sucking gently while your fingers toyed with the other, rolling it between them.

“Hey,” she gasped, a shaky laugh threading through her words, “aren’t you too good at this?”

You didn’t answer, too lost in her—her taste, her warmth, the way her whimpers grew sharper, rewarding every flick of your tongue, every pinch of your fingers. You pulled back, just enough to take her in fully—sprawled beneath you, clutching the sheets with white-knuckled desperation. Her blonde hair fanned wild across the bed, pale skin flushed deep, chest rising and falling in jagged bursts.

Your hands returned, pinching both nipples now, firm and deliberate. Her eyes—barely open—fought to hold yours, glazed with pleasure, her tongue slipping out as her mouth parted. Words failed her, dissolving into a string of moans and broken whimpers, the only sounds she could muster as she drowned in the sensation.

Wa—wait a sec…” She propped herself up against the pillow, hands darting to your face. Her fingers dug into your cheeks, pulling you in—too close, her touch firm and insistent.

“Kissing really feels good, don’t you think?” she mused, voice lilting with forced casualness. Her thumbs brushed slow, deliberate circles against your skin, betraying the act. “Especially when you feel it—you know, with tongues and everything.”

You arched a brow, amusement curling your lips. “Are you fishing for a kiss?”

She scoffed, but her hands didn’t budge, fingers lingering like they’d fused to you. “I’m just saying,” she huffed, eyes flicking aside, dodging yours. “No harm in a little discussion, right?”

You smirked, reading her like an open book—her little game, the way she circled what she craved, betting you’d cave first. “Just discussing, then?” you teased, tilting your head with mock innocence. “So I shouldn’t do it?”

Her grip faltered, a flash of panic skittering across her face. “I didn’t sa—”

She didn’t finish.

Your lips crashed into hers, silencing her protest, swallowing her words in a swift, ravenous press. Her breath snagged against your mouth, a sharp hitch—and for a fleeting second, she froze, caught off guard. Then she melted, hands slipping to grip your jaw, and before you could take control, her tongue darted forward—bold and sure, sliding into your mouth like she’d been waiting for this all along. The kiss deepened fast, tongues clashing in a messy, heated tangle, her pretense torched by the hunger she couldn’t hide.

Your hands roamed, restless—sliding down her sides, then lower, until they settled at her crotch. Fingers brushed the fabric of her panties, then slipped beneath, meeting slick heat that made your pulse jump. She was already wet, soaked through, and a low groan rumbled in your throat as you felt her.

You pulled back from the kiss, lips parting with a wet smack, and her eyes fluttered open, dazed and glassy. Your other hand hooked into her waistband, yanking the white fabric down her thighs in one rough tug, peeling it free and tossing it aside. She gasped, legs trembling as the cool air hit her bare skin.

“Already this wet?” you teased, voice gravelly, a smirk curling your lips. “You little pervert.”

Her face blazed red, embarrassment clashing with a spark of defiance in her eyes, but she didn’t pull back—her breath jagged, teetering between a snap and a whimper.

“Dum—dumbass, that’s what happens when—”

You didn’t let her finish. Your fingers pressed to her folds, slick and warm, rubbing along her slit with slow, deliberate strokes. Her grip on your neck tightened, nails biting into your skin, while her other hand fumbled to clutch your arm, trembling as her tongue slipped out, instinctive and desperate.

“Wha—what are you doing? St—stop—” she stammered, voice fracturing, but her hands betrayed her, sliding back to clutch the pillow behind her, knuckles whitening as she braced against the onslaught. “It fee—it feels weird. Really weird!” she cried, her tone pitching into a yell, raw and unraveling.

Her body locked tight for a split second—then shattered. Her back arched sharp off the bed, head snapping back into the pillow, a convulsion ripping through her as her thighs quaked. A rush of wet heat surged against your hand, her juices spilling out, soaking your fingers and dripping onto the sheets beneath. Her breath came in broken gasps, chest heaving, her tongue lolling slightly as the waves crashed over her, leaving her trembling in their wake.

“Fuck… shit…” she rasped, hands flying to cover her face, the flush so deep it seemed to bleed through her fingers, staining them red.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why are you suddenly cursing?”

“No, no, I mean…” She peeked through her hands, voice small but edged with frustration. “Be—because my sheets… they’re all wet now.”

“Oh, uh… sor—sorry…” you muttered, heat creeping up your own neck.

Her eyes flicked to yours, still glassy from the haze, then narrowed with a glint of mischief. “Then… hurry up and take off your pants already,” she ordered, voice low and impatient.

You rose to your feet on the bed, shedding your pants and briefs in a quick, fumbling pull, letting them drop away. Your dick sprang free, hard and hovering above her as she sat back on her knees, gazing up at you. The sight alone—her pale, flushed body, blonde hair spilling wild, those sharp eyes locked on you—hit like a punch, and her intense stare only made it worse. You couldn’t hold it; your gaze skittered away, heat crawling up your neck.

“Hmmm… hey, what’s wrong?” she hummed, a smug grin creeping across her lips. “Why’re you suddenly shy now?”

“It’s reasonable with this view,” you muttered, voice snagging in your throat, barely dodging her piercing stare.

“Is that so?” Her smug grin bloomed wide, teetering on a giggle. She edged closer, her face drifting nearer—dangerously near—to your cock, so close a twitch could’ve brushed her lips. Then her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your length, forming a tight ring just below the head. The sudden heat of her grip hit you hard—soft skin, firm pressure, a jolt of warmth that shot straight up your spine, making your breath catch and your hips tense instinctively. She started stroking, slow and deliberate, her palm sliding smooth against you, each pull tugging a raw, electric pulse through your core. “How is it? Is it okay? Does it feel good? Does it hurt?”

“You know, for someone who doesn’t know what she’s doing, you’re pretty damn bold,” you said, half-breathless, a smirk tugging despite the way her touch was unraveling you—every stroke a tease, her fingers tight enough to edge you toward losing it.

She ignored you, eyes flicking up with a glint of mischief, her hand keeping its rhythm—steady, maddening, the friction building heat that made your thighs twitch. “Doesn’t it feel good? Are you in paradise yet? You can cum—go ahead, it’s fine! Cum quick! Why aren’t you cumming? What’s wrong?!” Her questions tumbled out, fast and insistent, voice rising with a mix of glee and frustration.

“Yuqi, calm down,” you managed, voice straining as her pace quickened your pulse, her grip coaxing a throb you could barely hold back. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“It’s so warm,” she said, a grin tugging at her lips, “I could use it as a hand warmer.”

“Then tell me when you’re cold next time,” you shot back, half-jesting, legs trembling as you teetered between giving in to the pleasure and laughing at her ridiculous innocence. “I’ll whip it out for you.”

Her hand stilled mid-stroke, eyes snapping up to meet yours—sharp, focused, like she’d just clocked her next move and was weighing whether to go for it. Then she did. Her lips parted, soft and tentative, brushing against your tip. She pressed forward, mouth opening wider, her tongue flicking out to guide you in, warm and wet as it curled around the head.

She lingered there, treating it like a lollipop—licking slow, deliberate laps, tilting her head with each pass as if testing every angle. Her movements were clumsy, unpracticed—teeth grazing you now and then, a faint scrape that sent a jolt through you. A stray thought flickered: She might actually bite it.

And then, as if she’d snatched the thought right out of your skull, the ever-impulsive Yuqi went for it. Her teeth clamped down—not hard, just a quick pinch—sending a jolt of shock and a strange, sharp thrill spiking up your spine.

“Fuck—let go, you dumbass!” You yanked yourself back, pulling free from her mouth with a hiss.

“What the hell made you think biting it was a good idea?!”

“Ahh, sorry, sorry—I’m really sorry!” she blurted, eyes wide with panic, guilt flooding her face so fast it almost convinced you she didn’t mean it. “I didn’t even realize what I was doing!”

“Song Yuqi, get over here,” you said, voice firm, cutting through her fluster.

“Ar—are you okay?” she stammered, inching closer, her tone softening like a scolded puppy caught in the act. “Looks like you’re fine, though…”

You tugged her by her waist, laying her flat on the bed, your hand curling around her hip to pull her close. Fingers traced a slow, deliberate path from her knees up to her core, brushing her skin with intent. “Why’d you try to bite me? Do you want to be scolded, is that it?”

She turned her head, dodging your stare, her voice sinking to a sheepish mumble. “It looked delicious… so I thought I’d take a bite…”

You leaned in, capturing her lips again, kissing her deep and slow as you shifted between her thighs. Your hands nudged her legs apart, her skin warm and trembling under your touch. Your cock brushed her folds—slick, hot, a fleeting graze that made her breath hitch against your mouth.

You pulled back, eyes dropping to your shaft, guiding it with a steady hand. Your tip nudged her entrance, teasing her pussy with shallow dips, testing her heat. “Yuqi, you want to keep going?”

“Huh… How—how many times are you gonna ask?” she huffed, voice quivering, each word stuttering in time with the faint pulses of your cock against her. “Are you deaf…?”

You pressed in, your tip slipping past her entrance, sinking just enough to feel her tighten around you. A whimper spilled from her lips, quick and sharp, and you froze. “Are you alright? Should I go slower…?”

“Y—yes…!” she gasped, breaths shallow and ragged, holding them like she could trap the sensation inside.

“Yuqi, I want you to be comfortable,” you murmured, voice low, careful. “Tell me if it hurts—”

“Hey…” Her eyes glimmered, wet with tears—some already streaking down her flushed cheeks. She grabbed one wrist with her other hand, pinning her arms above her head, a shaky attempt at control. “Fu—fucking a beauty like me must feel good, right…?”

Even now, she bluffed—voice cracking, bravado fraying—but she wasn’t wrong. She felt incredible, her walls gripping you tight, pulsing hot around the bare inch you’d slipped inside, coaxing you deeper despite her trembling.

“…You just want to keep messing with me, don’t you…?” she murmured, eyes glinting through the haze.

“You keep doing it too,” you shot back, a faint smirk tugging at your lips.

“I’m gonna move a little,” you said, voice low. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“Mmhh,” she hummed, nodding faintly, her breath already shallow.

You pressed deeper, sliding slow and steady, her heat swallowing you inch by inch. Her body tensed, a soft gasp escaping as you sank further.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, pausing. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered, voice thin but firm, her eyes locked on yours.

“Then I’ll move a little more…?”

Your hands slid to her thighs, fingers digging into her soft flesh as you pulled her closer, burying your entire length inside her in one smooth thrust. She clenched around you, a tight, wet pulse that made your breath hitch.

“You’re really okay…?”

“Yeah… I’m good,” she managed, a shaky edge to her words. “Just… carry on, alright…?”

You grabbed her wrists, pinning them between you, tugging them toward your chest as you started to pump—slow at first, each thrust deliberate, feeling her stretch and yield. Her breath stuttered, eyes fluttering shut.

“Wha—what’s this… it feels so weird…” she gasped, voice breaking as her body rocked beneath you.

You quickened your pace, pounding faster, harder—stamina leaching with every sharp snap of your hips. Her moans poured out, jagged and piercing, swelling louder as you drove into her. Then, with a final thrust—deeper, fiercer than the rest—you buried yourself to the hilt, her head whipping back into the pillow, back bowing high off the bed. A raw, guttural moan ripped from her throat, her body quaking beneath you, clenching tight around your cock.

Out of breath, you propped yourself up on your arms, hovering over her sweat-slick frame. “Yuqi, you sure you’re okay? Should I go slower?”

She groaned, rolling her eyes despite the flush on her cheeks. “I told you I’m fine already—”

Her complaint drowned as you thrust back in, cutting her off, plunging deep to reclaim your rhythm. Her moans sang out again, sharp and sweet, and you drank them in, one hand finding her breast—cupping it firm, kneading the soft flesh, her nipple stiff and pressing into your palm like a needy pulse. You used it as leverage, anchoring yourself as you rocked into her.

“Raise your back,” you ordered, voice rough. She obeyed, arching up, and your hands slid to her waist, gripping her hips tight. With the new angle, you pulled her against you, thrusting harder, each slam sinking you deeper—her heat swallowing you, slick and tight, tugging you toward the brink.

The edge hit fast. Her walls spasmed around you, hot and relentless, a sudden, vise-like grip that yanked you over. You groaned low, thrusts stuttering as you came—thick, pulsing spurts flooding her, the wet heat of her pussy milking every last drop, a dizzying rush that blurred your senses. Yuqi shattered with you—her moans spiking into a broken cry, legs trembling, nails clawing the sheets as her climax tore through her. Her core clenched hard, a gush of warmth soaking you both, her body bucking against yours in wild, shuddering waves.

Exhausted, you slumped toward her, chest heaving. She met you halfway, mouth open, greedy—her lips crashing into yours, tongue darting out to pull yours in, tangling with a sloppy, desperate edge as she rode out the aftershocks pressed against you.

~🐶~

Yuqi teetered on the edge of consciousness, drunk on pleasure, her mind barely clinging to coherence in the quiet lull. She slumped back against you, her spine pressing into your chest as you hugged her tight from behind, your back braced against the headboard. Her breath came slow, ragged, her body limp yet humming with the afterglow.

Exhausted but not sated, she stirred as your hands roamed again. One slid to her breast, cupping it gently, fingers teasing the still-hard nipple—rolling it slow, coaxing a faint shiver from her. The other dipped lower, finding her clit, rubbing soft circles against the swollen bud. Her folds, slick and warm, rested heavy against your dick, subtly coating it with her dripping heat, a fresh trickle of her arousal seeping out as her body woke anew. She squirmed, a sleepy moan slipping free, her hips twitching instinctively into your touch—chasing more despite the haze.

Her mind spun, fragmented thoughts flickering through the haze: What should I do??

I’m actually doing it with him—with you.

Having sex with my friend—with you, of all people.

Yuqi’s thoughts snapped off, severed by a single, brutal thrust as you plunged back into her. Her body jolted, pinned tight against yours—your arms clamped around her, refusing her even an inch to squirm. A raw, involuntary moan tore from her throat, heat flooding her core as your cock filled her again, stretching her slick walls with a sudden, relentless pressure that made her head spin.

“You—you jerk!” she gasped, voice fracturing, each word sliced by whimpers and moans she couldn’t choke back. “Why did you suddenly—” Her sentence crumbled, drowned by the waves of pleasure rippling through her, your thrusts relentless, robbing her of breath and coherence. Her hand shot back, fingers tangling in your hair, yanking you closer in a clumsy, desperate retaliation—her nails scraping your scalp as she fought to reclaim some control.

“Fuck! It… feels so… good…” she moaned, the confession spilling out, her voice thick with surrender. Every slam of your hips sent a jolt through her—her insides clenching tight around you, a tingling heat pooling low, her thighs trembling against the onslaught.

Yuqi twisted her head toward you, lips parting, tongue lolling out in a silent plea. You met her halfway, your mouth crashing into hers, tongues tangling in a sloppy, wet mess—her saliva mixing with yours, sharp and bitter on her tastebuds, a hungry edge to the kiss that made her dizzy.

You paused, buried deep inside her, your length a thick, unyielding pressure stretching her core. Your voice rasped hot against her ear, rough and taunting. “Yuqi, why are you moaning so loud? You’re a total pervert, aren’t you?” Your hand clamped onto her breast, squeezing hard, fingers catching her nipple—pinching with a sharp twist that sent a jolt of heat stabbing through her chest, her skin tingling, raw under your grip.

“Wha—what?” The sudden stillness yanked her from her euphoria, your words sparking a flare of annoyance in her hazy mind. “I’m not a pervert! This is because—”

Her protest died as she felt you shift inside her—a subtle, deliberate twitch, just enough to press against her walls, sending a fresh ripple of pleasure curling through her belly. A whimper slipped out, soft and traitorously loud, snuffing her temper before it could catch.

“Is it because it doesn’t hurt anymore?” you teased, voice low, your breath grazing her neck. “You’re fully fitted to my cock now, is that it?” It wasn’t just a taunt—it was a truth she couldn’t dodge. She felt it: her body molded to you, slick and tight, every inch of her clinging like she’d been made for this. Denial burned on her tongue, but her silence betrayed her.

For a heartbeat, the air hung thick—then Yuqi felt it again. Your cock twitched inside her, a sudden, firm pulse that nudged against her walls, straining the tight grip she had on you. She barely registered it before your hands tightened on her hips, lifting her ass higher mid-thrust. The motion shoved her forward, a sharp jolt rocking through her core as you pumped harder, still buried deep. Her arms buckled under the force, knees skidding across the sheets, and she scrambled to catch herself—landing on all fours, ass propped high, her body trembling from the hot, aching stretch where you stayed lodged inside her.

“What are you—?!” she yelped, voice splintering, but before she could twist or protest, your weight shifted forward. You followed her down, pressing against her back—a solid, unrelenting heat pinning her in place as you kept thrusting, relentless, your rhythm unbroken, each slam sinking deeper into her slick, pulsing core.

uqi’s hand flailed back, fingers scrabbling for purchase against your relentless, rabid thrusts—each one slamming into her with a force that made her core throb and ache, a wild rhythm she couldn’t match. Tears streaked her cheeks, her cries spilling out sharp and broken as the pleasure drowned her, too much, too fast. Her grip faltered, and the bed seemed to tilt—your weight unsteady above her. In a clumsy tangle, you both toppled sideways, crashing onto the sheets. But the fall didn’t slow you—your hips kept pumping, unbothered, and now she was trapped. Your arms snaked around her, pinning her own against her chest, locking her tight in your embrace. She moaned helplessly, voice raw and trembling, as you ravaged her hole—each thrust a deep, merciless plunge that wrecked her from the inside out.

Then it hit—a sudden, electric shock blasted through Yuqi, sharp and blinding. Your cock struck her G-spot, a precise, brutal nudge that made her walls clamp down hard, a scream tearing from her throat as her body bucked wildly against you. You caught it—your rhythm shifted fast, seizing the moment. One hand hooked under her thigh, hoisting her leg up, twisting her into a scissoring sprawl. The angle split her open, and you drove deeper—impossibly deeper—your length grinding that spot with every thrust, a hot, pulsing pressure that sent shudders racing up her spine. Her slick heat drenched you, her core spasming out of control, and she couldn’t stop it—the moans, the tremors, the way her body gave in completely to the chaos you unleashed inside her.

Both of you gasped for air, a brief break settling in as your bodies stilled. The position shifted naturally—Yuqi’s eyes stayed clamped shut, too heavy to lift under the intensity, even now in the quiet. She couldn’t see, but she felt your shadow loom over her, your presence hovering close, a dark heat she sensed through her haze.

“Yuqi, get up,” you said, voice rough. She obeyed, dragging herself upright, though her lids barely cracked open—exhaustion weighing them down. You pulled her onto your lap, her thighs straddling yours, facing you. Your thrusts resumed, slower now, and she felt your mouth on her breast—lips sucking, tongue flicking her nipple, a wet, warm pull that sparked faint jolts through her chest. Her arms trembled as she propped herself against you.

Slowly, you reclined back, and Yuqi’s hands slid to the headboard, gripping it for balance. She didn’t know when it happened—her mind too foggy to track—but she realized she was moving, humping you on her own, hips rolling instinctively against your steady length. Her pace faltered, exhaustion creeping in, slowing her down. Then you took over—your hands gripped her hips, and you pumped up into her again, reigniting the fire in her core with each thrust.

Her hand shot to your hair, fingers twisting tight, yanking your face close. Her tongue lolled out, desperate, and you met it—your tongue tangling with hers, a sloppy, wet dance that tasted of sweat and need. “Hug me,” she rasped, tongue still out, voice thick. “Hug me,” she begged again, more frantic, a plea trembling on her lips.

Yuqi felt you overpower her—your arms wrapped around her, pulling her down until she crashed onto her back. She clung to you, arms looping around your neck, legs locking tight around your waist, holding you deep inside her. Any second now, she knew it—both of you teetering on the edge. Her thighs parted wider, welcoming your thrusts, her body aching for release.

Then it came. Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave—her walls seized around you, spasming hard, a gush of heat flooding her core as she shattered. She felt you pull out mid-clench, your cock slipping free, and a split second later, the hot, thick splatter of your cum streaked across her skin—her belly, her thighs—branding her as her own climax pulsed through. Her moans choked off, her vision blurred, and her consciousness slipped away, fading to black as the last shudder rocked her limp frame.

~~~

Yuqi woke up to warmth—soft fabric against her skin, the dull ache in her limbs, and the distant hum of the world outside.

Her brows furrowed, still caught in the haze of sleep, but something felt… off. The scent in the air wasn’t quite hers. The bed didn’t feel quite right.

Then, as she shifted, the sensation of bare skin against unfamiliar sheets jolted her fully awake.

Her eyes snapped open. Sunlight streamed through her curtains, too bright, too loud, as her pulse pounded in her ears. Her room. She was in her room. But—

The sheets. They weren’t hers.

Panic flared in her chest as fragments of last night started to piece themselves together.

Her breath hitched.

Oh. Oh, shit.

She sat up too fast, wincing as soreness bloomed through her body. That was another thing—the ache in her muscles, the evidence of everything she’d done, everything she’d let happen.

And then, finally, she noticed—

The oversized shirt slipping past her shoulder, familiar but not hers.

Your shirt. Her grip on the fabric tightened.

This wasn’t happening.

But the soreness in her body told her it was. The unfamiliar sheets told her it was. Your shirt draped over her skin—your scent clinging to it—told her it was.

Yuqi’s breath came uneven as the full weight of what she’d done crashed over her.

She’d slept with you.

You.

Her friend. Her longtime friend.

A sharp pang of regret twisted in her chest, not because she hadn’t wanted it—God, that was the worst part—she had wanted it. She had kissed you back, had let you undress her, had clung to you like you were the only thing keeping her grounded.

But she hadn’t expected it. Not like this. Not when she wasn’t ready to risk everything.

Not when it could ruin you.

She raked her hands through her hair, cursing under her breath. How the hell did she let it get this far? How the hell did she let herself fall?

The silence of the room felt suffocating. And you—where were you? Were you regretting it too? Were you somewhere in the apartment, figuring out how to tell her this was a mistake?

Her stomach churned at the thought.

The smell of food drifted into the room, warm and familiar.

Yuqi swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the bedsheet.

You’re cooking.

That meant you were still here. That meant you hadn’t run off in regret, hadn’t left her alone in this mess she didn’t know how to clean up.

Maybe… maybe it’s not too late.

If she just acted normal—if she pretended last night was a mistake, a stupid, drunken slip-up—maybe things wouldn’t have to change.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to lose you.

Yuqi exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers to her temples. Her thoughts spiraled, one after the other, faster than she could catch them.

What if you wanted to forget too? What if you were in the kitchen right now, thinking of ways to brush it off, to laugh about it, to shove it in the back of your minds where it could rot, untouched?

Could you both really pretend it didn’t happen? Could she?

She forced herself out of bed, her legs weak beneath her, the oversized fabric of your shirt hanging off her frame. She had to face you. She had to fix this before it shattered into something she couldn’t repair.

With careful steps, she made her way to the kitchen.

And there you were. Standing by the stove, spatula in hand, acting like this was just any other morning.

Her chest clenched.

Maybe it could be. Maybe if she played it right, you could go back.

She took a deep breath, steadied herself, then tried.

“So,” she started, keeping her voice light. Too light. “What’s for breakfast, chef?”

You turned slightly, meeting her gaze. And for a second—just a second—something flickered in your expression.

Something unreadable.

But then you smirked. “Figured you’d need something to get your strength back after last night.”

Her stomach dropped.

She forced a laugh. “Oh, shut up.”

You plated the food, setting it on the counter. “Not hungry?”

Yuqi hesitated. Her fingers curled around the hem of your shirt—her only layer of protection against the vulnerability clawing up her throat.

This was slipping. She could feel it.

“Look,” she said, trying to sound casual, like she wasn’t barely holding herself together. “Last night was… you know. We were drunk, and it just… happened.”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you grabbed a glass of water, taking a slow sip before setting it down.

Then, you leveled her with a look.

“And?”

Yuqi blinked. “And?”

You leaned against the counter, arms crossing over your chest. “Are you trying to say it was a mistake?”

Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Because that’s not what she meant—not really.

But if she didn’t say it, if she didn’t put that distance back, she didn’t know what would happen.

She didn’t know if she could handle what would happen.

“I just think,” she tried again, voice weaker this time, “that we should just… go back. Like before. We don’t have to—”

“Yuqi. You know that's bullshit.”

She froze.

"That was four cans between us. You can drink five alone and still balance on a pole—don't act like that was the reason.”

The way you said her name—steady, firm, like you’d already made up your mind—it made her stomach twist.

“Before isn’t an option,” you said simply.

Four cans.

That’s all it was. Just four stupid cans.

And yet, here you were, looking at her like you were about to ruin everything.

The air in the room shifted—her room, but suddenly it didn’t feel like hers anymore. The sheets smelled like you, the oversized shirt hanging off her shoulders wasn’t hers either. Nothing felt like hers anymore, not even her own body, sore in places she had no right to acknowledge.

Her stomach twisted, panic crawling up her throat. No. No, no, no—

Her gaze dropped to the floor, unable—unwilling—to look at you. If she saw your face, if she saw the regret, the indifference, or worse, the pity—it would break her.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she blurted, voice thin, barely holding together. Maybe if she said it first, if she got ahead of it, she could stop whatever came next.

But then—

“Yuqi, being friends with you has been fun, but—”

But.

That one word shattered everything.

No. Not like this. Not you.

“But what?” Her voice cracked, too raw, too exposed. “Is that it? Over just like that?”

You didn’t say anything, and it made her chest tighten, like her ribs were caving in.

“Did you hate it that much?” she forced out, her hands fisting in the fabric of the sheets.

“No, Yuqi, not like that. Let me talk—”

“To what? To hear your excuse?” Her voice rose, frantic now. “How can you talk so calmly? Is that how it is? I’m the only one who actually valued this friendship? I make one mistake, and you’re already ready to leave?”

“Yuqi. Look at me.”

There was a weight in the way you said her name—stern, unyielding—but she didn’t want to hear it. Couldn’t.

Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled as she dug them into the mattress, nails pressing into the fabric, grounding herself.

“Why can’t you just stay?” Her voice was barely above a whisper now, desperate, fraying at the edges. “I’m sorry, okay? This—this was a one-time thing. That’s it. So you don’t have to leave. It doesn’t mean anything.”

It was a lie. A pathetic, miserable lie.

But if saying it kept you from walking away, then she’d let it shatter her.

Except—

Before she could breathe, before she could take it back—

Your lips crashed into hers.

You knew what she was thinking. You knew how much she was spiraling, how the weight of her own fears was crushing her. And maybe—probably—it was best to just tell her, to stop her panic before it got any worse.

But watching her like this, hopelessly caught in her own misunderstanding, her pride stripped away, her vulnerability laid bare… you couldn’t help but find her cute.

So you kissed her.

When you pulled away, her breath was shaky, her wide eyes darting between yours.

“Will you listen to me now?”

She nodded—barely, hesitantly—before her gaze dropped back to the floor.

You sighed. “Yuqi, we’ve been friends for a while—”

Her head shot up so fast you almost laughed. Her eyes were glassy, lips parted as if she was about to say something—

But before she could, you kissed her again, swallowing whatever words she had.

“We’ve been friends for a while,” you repeated against her lips, softer this time. “And I thought we were always going to stay that way. But this past year…”

She was shaking now, small, uneven trembles as her tears finally spilled over. She pouted, biting her lip, trying so hard to keep it together. You placed a hand on her head, fingers threading through her hair, petting her gently.

That was the trigger.

The dam broke.

Her shoulders shook as she let out a muffled, choked sob, burying her face into your chest.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “But this past year, Yuqi…” You wiped her tears away with your thumbs, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to look at you. “I realized how dumb I was to keep thinking of you as just a friend. An amazing woman like you—you’re funny, you’re smart, you work hard, you’re pre—beautiful, and above all, you’re confident in everything you do…”

Then, with a smirk, you added, “And it’s absolutely hilarious when you’re wrong.”

She punched you—hard enough to send the message, but too weak to actually hurt.

“What I’m trying to say is, I like you. And just like you, I was scared of losing you too, Yuqi.”

She sniffled, hastily wiping at her face, the reality of your words finally sinking in.

“…That’s why, um—”

“What?!”

“I’m asking—can we be together?”

Her breath hitched.

And then, with no warning, the tears came rushing back as she smacked your chest. “Of course we can, you idiot! Why didn’t you say that first?!”

You had no excuse, only laughter. You pulled her into your arms, and she clung to you just as tightly.

“Yuqi…” you whispered, lips brushing against her ear.

You kissed her cheek. Then her forehead. Then her lips. Slowly, tenderly, you moved downward, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, her neck—

And then, a loud growl rumbled through the silence.

Yuqi stiffened.

You froze.

And then—

You let out a loud snort.

Yuqi turned bright red. “Don’t—don’t laugh! I hate you.”

You grinned, pulling away just enough to meet her eyes. “I like you.”

She huffed, still flustered.

You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Do you at least like my cooking?”

Her voice was small, barely above a mumble.

“…I—I like it.”

You smirked, reaching for her hand, your fingers brushing her sweat-damp skin. “Then come on, let’s eat before you actually pass out on me.”

But just as you turned toward the kitchen, a sharp tug yanked you back.

Her grip was firm on your wrist.

“What is it?” you asked, pivoting to face her.

Yuqi hadn’t moved, her body squirming slightly, thighs pressing together. Her hands fisted over the oversized shirt—your shirt—clutching the fabric low over her stomach like she could hide her itch you could scratch away. Her chest heaved, tits straining against the fabric, nipples poking through—already hard from the kiss earlier. Her face was red, not from embarrassment of her stomach, but from the heat that you just have built up.

She was still breathless, her chest rising and falling unevenly, her skin flushed in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.

And her eyes—dark, hungry, locked onto you like she was barely holding herself back.

Your grin deepened.

You leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat of your breath against her lips, but not close enough to give her what she wanted.

“Let’s eat first,” you murmured, your voice low, teasing.

Then, smirking, you added, “After, you can beg me to fuck you again.”

She shook, a quick, horny tremble.

And just like that, you pulled away, already heading toward the kitchen.

You didn’t have to look back to know she was still standing there, fuming, frustrated, and—most of all—waiting.

a/n: thanks for reading, also thoughts on the switching pov while maintaining 2nd pov ("you" pronoun)? Or is using 3rd person pov when in idols pov better?

#yuqi smut #gidle smut #male reader smut #kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #idol x reader #idol x male reader #qwilorg

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 4 months ago

Text

If I Could Melt Your Heart | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | One shot 5k

The end of the mission goes wrong when you fall through the ice. Bucky manages to get you to the safe house, unresponsive and hypothermic. Bucky worries for your safety, trying everything to warm you and melting the competitive animosity between you.

Warnings: 18+ for suggestions of sex, language and both Reader and Bucky being idiots. Flirting, frenemies to lovers nonsense, kissing. Whump, reader falls through ice, symptoms of hypothermia. Rated I and L for Idiots in Love.

Final divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The fall was easier than you thought it would be. Conditioned to have confidence in your decisions, you’d run across the ice fully expecting to reach the other side and then, just as suddenly as you’d made your decision, you were looking up at the sky between two walls of dark green water.

The lake closed in just as fast, covering the sky, and your salvation, and panic set in, there was no air, your lungs burning from the cold and you gasped involuntarily, drinking in the crisp clean lake. It was over, the entire adventure was over, no more missions, no more tower, no more compound, no more galas and holidays and, worst of all, no more Bucky.

No more late nights bickering over films, no more inventing reasons for him to be your partner during training, no more glances during meetings and arguments after briefing, just so he’d stay closer, just so he’d look at you a little longer.

Despite everything you’d achieved, you’d wasted it all really, by not telling him how much you loved him.

You closed your eyes, arms still beating in the water, heaving against the pack on your back dragging you down.

The snow had come in fast, separating you from Sam and Steve. You'd meant to take a separate path each, converging on a safe house for extraction in the morning. Bucky had caught up with you a mile or two before. But somewhere in the storm you'd taken a wrong turn and now the darkness was closing in, your eyes fluttering closed, chest burning and Bucky still on the shore.

Hands appeared, covered in Avengers issue gloves, one hauling you upwards, the other pushing on the clasp that held your pack and letting it fall into the water while lifting you into the biting air. A face glowed in the bright sun and you were happy to allow the angel to take you where they wanted, closing your eyes again seemed the only sensible thing to do, then at least you could dream about your regrets.

Everything was hazy, but you knew you were being hustled into a safe house by the sound of the keypad beeping.

That's okay, maybe there's safe houses in the afterlife, maybe there's the crack of the fire and the cold won’t be so biting.

When Bucky reached the safe house the wind had picked up, forcing him to wrestle the door open before half falling into the small porch, the wind no longer holding his weight. But he managed to keep you steady as he shuffled inside, locking the cold out behind him.

He’d seen you go down, thinking you'd fallen, and had spotted the crack in the ice immediately after. It was clear where you’d gone wrong, leaving the track at the side of the lake, but he didn’t have time for that, he only had time to rush across the ice, sliding the last metre on his belly to stop it cracking further.

Thankfully your pack had done its job and the two small buoyancy aids that Tony had added after the last jet crash were keeping you close to the surface. You were in shock though, eyes misty and for a heartbreaking second, as he dragged your flopping body onto the ice, Bucky wondered if he’d been too late.

Beneath his fingers your pulse was still there, slow, but steady, and he flipped you onto your side and smacked your back as hard as he dared until you threw up the freezing water.

He took a different way off the ice, just in case it had cracked under the soft snowfall. Carefully, he had trudged across a more dangerous ridge to reach the safe house faster, the snow storm picking up around him, aware of your solid weight on his back, his pack slung around to his front. It had still taken half an hour and all of his energy.

By the time he’d placed you on the couch, Bucky’s long hair was frozen at the ends where it had fallen from his black stealth issue snow hat. His lips were chapped and his shoulder ached where his prosthesis met the joint. But he could see you, and he could see you breathing and moving and you weren’t dead.

He slumped to the floor and wiped a wet glove down his face, breathing out heavily.

You'd argued, on the jet, about the drop site, about the evac, about the contents of your pack. There was always an argument, a bet, a challenge to be had with you, but he didn’t care as long as you were looking at him. And he’d never had the courage to tell you, to pin you to the mat when you sparred and tell you that he couldn’t go a day without seeing you.

With another ragged breath he looked up. You were here, safe, together.

Now what?

Bucky called Sam and Steve’s emergency number together, hoping whoever wasn’t driving would pick up. He liked Sam and he trusted his medical judgement and while the tension in their friendship was easing, it was still easier with Steve around too.

“That you, Buck?” Sam said, there was a distinct hum from the truck in the background that told Bucky they were on their way at least. Help is coming, Bucky told himself, you don’t have to take care of her alone, help is coming.

“Bucky?” The side of Steve’s head appeared on the video call and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Thank god you picked up, things went from shit to worse out there, she fell through the fucking ice. Managed to get her out but she coughed up a helluva lot of water and now she’s all -” he looked behind him at your floppy hands and droopy eyelids, “she doesn’t look right, she isn’t talking, can’t stay awake.” Bucky rambled, his Brooklyn drawl appearing again through his worry. His words were getting mixed, he could feel them, heavy on his tongue, hypothermia? Something else? What had he been taught in basic training?

“Look, don’t get excited,” Sam said, pausing slightly, the howl of the snow storm still evident behind him. “But I need you to take off any wet layers she’s wearing, she could get hypothermia and her being unresponsive isn’t a good sign.”

“Why would that get me excited?” Bucky said, indigent but propping the phone up so he could start unzipping your coat.

On the video Steve rolled his eyes. He couldn’t see anything out of the truck windows, the snowstorm made everything static, but the video kept trying to focus anyway.

“Just do it, Buck, okay. There should be some spare clothes somewhere, if she needs them.”

Bucky peeled back your sopping coat and set about removing your snow boots. Underneath you were wearing waterproof trousers, a thick thermal sweater and long sleeved standard issue t-shirt and leggings, also wet. He sat back, peeling the leggings from around your ankles. At least you had one dry shirt on but it was so small, just a strappy vest as your first layer and there were already goosebumps rising on the skin around your shoulders and collarbone.

Bucky snapped his eyes away, cheeks flushed, and stood, searching for spares, coming up short.

“There’s nothing here -” he groused, standing his phone up against the empty fireplace while he searched.

“Check the bathroom, they normally leave sweat shirts and things by the towels.”

Bucky gave you one last look and left the room in search of something to keep you warm.

Your eyes felt so heavy, your head full of lead and your arms and legs weighed down. Your throat burned and tasted awful, worse than the pack rations you’d eaten before you’d set off on the last leg of your walk to the cabin.

The memory of the water washed over you and your arms flew out, grasping for the ratty sofa cushions.

You were safe.

Everyone else must have made it too because you could hear Sam and Steve talking, saying something about Bucky.

Blinking your eyes you were sure they were sat by the fire, maybe they’d light it soon, you were so cold.

Bucky returned with a blanket and socks, sweat pants and towels and dropped them on the floor by the couch. It was one thing to find supplies, quite another to get you changed, he felt bad enough about taking your outer layers off.

At some point during his search Sam and Steve must have dropped off the call, the phone now laying quiet on the hearth.

He’d get you dressed and then worry about a fire.

The sweat pants were fine, they were loose and pulled up easily over your hips, the socks and towels warmed your feet slowly. But your shoulders and chest were still uncovered and he could see you starting to shiver. That was at least a good sign, your nerves were working and you were responding correctly to sensory input - but he couldn’t bear it.

Without thinking he pulled his henley off and sat you up, carefully placing it over your head and manoeuvring your arms until you were covered.

You let out a deep sigh, smiling in your sleep. Bucky didn’t want to think about the way you seemed to snuggle into the collar, it was just body heat, that’s all, that’s all you needed.

Bucky tucked you back in, being careful to tuck the soft edges of the shirt between your bare skin and the rough wool of the blanket. This was not the way he wanted to see or touch you like this for the first time. He sat with his back to the sofa, gun across his lap and trained his eyes on the door.

Bucky’s eyes were open in half a second, body crouched, gun extended into the darkness until he noticed his phone lit up beside him, vibrating against the aching joints in his shoulders.

“Hey, Buck, hows it going?.” Steve asked from the gloom of the truck’s cabin. Sam must have taken over the driving, Steve never used his phone behind the wheel. “We should be with you in the morning.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that.” Bucky let his head flop back against the sofa and instantly regretted it when he felt the softness of your thighs behind him.

Sam’s voice was an echo on the line,“tell me what’s going on?”

“I took her uniform off like you said and she was awake very briefly, just eyes open then closed, but she’s been asleep awhile.”

“Awake is good, right?” Steve asked and Sam hummed in agreement.

“Hey man, you need to get some rest too, okay. No falling asleep by accident, get in the bed or under a blanket and really sleep,” Sam scolded, it rankled Bucky sometimes, how well Sam really knew him, but he was grateful for this new team as well.

“I shouldn’t I -” the words ‘I don’t deserve to rest’ were so close to stumbling past his lips. Instead he closed his eyes and turned his head to the wood beamed roof.

“Look punk, whatever stupid thing you two were arguing about, it’s not your fault she got hurt, okay?” Steve’s voice was sterner now, demanding attention.

“It was a bet,” Bucky admitted, weakly. “I bet her I could get here first and when I did I’d get the bed and the blankets. She was rushing because of me, she took a stupid fucking risk because she thought she’d have nowhere to sleep.” Bucky bit his cheek, the tang of blood staining his tongue.

“For gods sake, Buck, that’s not your fault, she made her own choices -”

“She’d have made better ones if I wasn’t such an asshole, what would my Ma ? Making a bet like that, you know I’d never have let her go cold.”

In your sleep your hands inched forwards, searching for something. The tips of your fingers found his earlobe and then, with a hum, you tucked your hand between his cold, bare, back and the sofa.

“James Buchanan Barnes, your ma would’ve tanned your hide from here to Coney Island. But I know, I know you would never have let her suffer, you were playing games and makin’ stupid bets because you respect her as your equal. She’d be just as mad if she though you were goin’ easy on her.”

He had nothing to say, no way to defend himself or make it better that didn’t involve him punishing himself somehow, so he said nothing.

“Just hang on until the morning, okay. I’ll send over some more information on hypothermia in case we lose contact. But you just have to get through to the morning and then we can take over.”

“Shouldn’t we get her to the compound now?” Bucky didn’t try to hide the worry in his voice, you hadn’t fought him off, complained, made a sarcastic comment or done any of your usual ridiculous arguing when he’d helped you. It wasn’t right.

“No, no, best thing is to let her sleep and warm up. She’s fine. You need to sleep though, properly, on a soft surface.”

“Floors aren’t soft surfaces!” Sam shouted.

“Okay, but -” Bucky paused and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Just sleep, Buck.” If Bucky was worried, Steve was amused, unable to keep the smile from his voice as he said goodbye.

You were still underwater, you were sure from the way all the voices in your head sounded muffled. But then you could smell Bucky’s shampoo, so maybe everything was okay after all.

“Hey, are you awake,” Bucky’s voice was so far away, like listening through a bubble, “if you’re awake you should eat something and then I can take your temperature again.”

There was a movement, an earthquake, but the water didn’t move, there was no water anymore, just the cushion, the lap, the arm, the hand. You clung to the arm, but it didn’t yield under your fingers, it was solid and whirring and -

“Hmmm, Bucky,” you whispered, nuzzling back into his hold.

“No, come on, sit up, time to eat.” Why was the world moving, tilting? The voice was louder now, clearer.

“Buh-” The words were gone again, the world was quiet again, blissful sleep with Bucky’s hand in yours.

Sam’s face appeared on the phone screen, sleep in his eyes while Bucky gave him an update. He’d decided to stay awake, insisting he’d nap in the truck when they moved on in the morning. As soon as you’d started talking he’d called Sam and Steve to check on you.

“She was slurring a bit. She wasn’t shivering but I think she’s warmer.”

“You think she’s warmer?,” Sam cut over Steve, looking pointedly at Bucky. “Feel her back and chest.”

“Her chest…” Bucky looked down at you, curled into his t-shirt, eyelids fluttering in your sleep. “She’s wearing clothes.”

Bucky’s hand was still on your cheek and you turned into the touch, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Bucky just put your hand on her collar,” Steve suggested.

“Awh, Buck, are you nervous around her, that’s so cute.” Sam teased and Steve scoffed at him. The line went quiet, but he could still make out some muffled arguing.

He ignored them, sliding his left hand down to your collarbone, gently tucking his fingers under the collar of the t-shirt. His left hand was surprisingly sensitive and he could feel the prickle of your heat, you were definitely warmer than you had been. Your heartbeat steady beneath his palm, his thumb rubbed higher, feeling your pulse in your neck as well.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Steve sighed and Bucky snatched his hand away as if he’d been caught, “but if you can get her to have some soup that would be great -”

“We have to do something else.” Bucky knew he sounded panicked, but he didn’t care. Hypothermia could be deadly and there was no way he was losing you. “She’s still asleep, she should be coming round.”

“There's not much more we can do,” Sam's voice was sleepy. “Sit with her, if she wakes up, get her to eat something and try to keep her awake. Steve and will get there as soon as we can. In the meantime, there may be one more thing you could try -” Sam’s eyes lit up and Bucky just knew he was in trouble somehow.

Body heat, that’s what Sam had said.

“You need to get under a blanket with her properly, keep her warm.” Sam suggested.

“You mean cuddle.”

“Fine, cuddle, would that be the end of the world?” He’d rolled his eyes and Bucky had felt a sort of sick feeling inside. He’d love to cuddle you, actually, would love to feel your body close to him without the threat of you pulling a training knife or trying to flip him on his back again. But he just can’t.

He stared at you, replaying Sam’s words over and over. Bodyheat, it’s the only thing for it now the fire was roaring again and the huge blanket was folded over twice. Why weren’t you waking up? Why were you still so cold to the touch?

He lay down, rearranging the blanket over you both and let his right arm fall over your waist, pulling you closer.

The fire crackled, the snow fell in quiet drifts by the windows and for a moment he could pretend that this was all normal. Just you taking a nap on a winter evening. Would you nap in your clothes? Or would you change into your pyjamas early on in the day and stay like that. Would you fall asleep as easily in his apartment? Would you want to stay?

The snow had stopped again, banked up against the windows in what would have been a wonderful Christmas scene, if you weren’t stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Bucky’s tactical comms were blinking with a new message but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His head was clearer from having slept, but the feel of your hand sitting low on his hip, your body perfectly aligned with his and, crucially, your face so close, lips brushing his cheek, had his thoughts reeling again.

You stirred, nuzzling closer and placing a sleepy kiss on his cheek. Bucky’s heart sank, who did you think he was?

“Hmm, where are we?” Your eyes were closed still, but at least your hand was hot against his skin and you were talking, cogent.

“You fell through the ice, I'm trying to get you warm. How do your toes and fingers feel?” He whispered.

You stretched your hands out in front of you, wiggling your fingers at him, “they did hurt, ugh, they hurt so bad,” there was a sad whine in your voice that made Bucky want to right every wrong you’d ever endured. You just sounded so small, so vulnerable for a change. “But they don't hurt anymore.” Your eyes drifted closed again and Bucky bit his lip, it really was now or never.

“Hey, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on your face.

“You cracked the ice?”

“No, but you wouldn’t have gone over it if we hadn’t made that stupid bet.”

“Oh -” and then you laughed.

“Why are you laughing, this is really serious, you could’ve died.” His breath caught in his throat, you were laughing and moving and his chest was still bare and you were in his t-shirt, pushing yourself against him with every movement.

“It’s not your fault though you idiot.” You smacked his chest playfully and he caught your hand, holding it tight.

“Are you feelin’ okay now?” His eyes darted over your face, taking in your pupils - slightly too dilated, your skin felt flush now which was good, but you couldn’t look at him properly. “You’re not concussed, your pupils are -” his fingers lingered on your wrist, feeling your pulse quicken.

You pulled away, “I’m fine, I just needed to sleep it off I guess. Where are we?”

You took in the cabin, the little bed in the corner, stripped of its blankets. There was a fire still in the grate and evidence of Bucky eating, judging by the little ration packets scattered next to the sofa. Your tactical gear was drying over the back of a chair and Bucky’s was arranged neatly by the door.

“We made it to the safe house, you were really close, you would’ve won.” Bucky kept his hands to himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way your eyes had looked when he’d held you, the light hadn't changed, you hadn’t moved your body, the only thing that had changed was his touch.

“Good, I knew I would, slow old man.” You laughed and it was such a relief to hear you happy, safe, Bucky closed his eyes again. “Where are Sam and Steve?”

Still driving, there was a snowstorm so god knows when they'll get here now.”

“Better get some rations together then, I'm starving.”

You wriggled off the couch and stood, eyeing up the kitchenette.

Bucky, on the other hand, was trying to keep his eyes from straying to you. The sweat pants were far too big, sliding down over your hips, as we're the socks which pooled around your ankles. You looked so…cute.

“I don’t think you should be doing that, why don’t you rest?” He pushed the blankets and towels off the worn couch and tried to steer you away from the kitchenette.

“Bucky I’m not dead, I was fine, I can make some-” you turned the can over in your hands, it sloshed, but there was nothing on the label, “mystery soup.”

“No, you’re not dead, but -”

“You wish I was, blah blah blah.” You laughed making your hand talk along with your words.

“No, No -” Through your laugh, Bucky’s voice was laced with distress. “I never wanted you to get hurt.”

He dodged around you, trying to get you to slow down and look at him but you were turning a pan over in your hands, deciding if it was too rusty for cooking with.

“I know, you just wanted to win. No hard feelings, Buck. We’ll pick a winner next time.”

You were determined to carry on like this then, with your arguing and betting and banter. Even though Bucky had sat with you through the night, certain you were going to die and it was entirely his fault that you’d die without knowing you were the one who kept him going.

“I don’t want there to be a next time.” He said, plainly.

“Oh, right, well, I guess we can just ask to be placed on different teams. If that’s what you want.” Suddenly the laughter had stopped and it was like you'd been dipped in ice again, the atmosphere was frosty and tense.

“No, for god's sake, that's not what I mean. Fuck, I'm messing this up!” Bucky grumbled, making a grab for you.

“Hey!” You tried to dodge again, but he took your hands and pulled you close.

“I don't want there to be a next time because I never want you to be in danger because of me. There won't be a next time because I was so scared I was going to lose you without telling you…”

“Telling me…what?”

“That you make all of this worthwhile.” He said, the tension leaving his body. “I couldn't imagine training without you, dinners and galas and missions. It wouldn't be the same, it wouldn't be worth it if you weren't there too.”

“Bucky-”

“You don't have to say anything, I just needed to tell you.” He dropped your hands and turned, “I'm going to go and call Sam and Steve, see if they're nearly here for evac.”

But you heard the water turn on and knew he wasn’t doing any such thing. He was having one of his angry, ‘wash away the argument’ showers that infuriated you so much when you had to share a hotel room or a safe house or when you followed him to his room to continue whatever ridiculous argument you’d both cooked up.

You continued stirring the soup slowly. Soup was really all you could find that didn’t make you feel sick just from reading the label, and you bent over the stove allowing the steam to warm your fingers and cheeks.

The door to the bathroom slammed and you turned to see the light spilling from under the door. What did he mean ‘you make all of this worthwhile’. He was messing around, right? All the bets and fights, the arguments. He liked to get under your skin because, well, he clearly didn’t like you very much.

You dropped the wooden spoon against the side of the pan, letting the too short handle slowly drown in the now spitting hot soup.

But you liked him. Your heart had been pounding when he touched you and now your mind was racing at the thought of him even more than tolerating you.

Before you could stop yourself you were crossing the cabin and hammering on the bathroom door.

Bucky’s face was flush when he opened the door, pink staining his cheeks and blending with the faint lines on his face where he’d been cut during your mission.

He said nothing.

“Tell me what you meant.” You demanded, trying to keep your eyes up. It was difficult, Bucky had stripped off already, you’d sparred enough times to know what his chest felt like, it seeing might actually tip you over the edge.

“Don’t do this.” He grumbled, “just leave me alone.”

He went to close the door but you pushed your flat palm against the wood, “Bucky you can’t go saying shit like that and then walk off and make it my fault.”

“I can’t deal with it today, okay? I pulled your lifeless fucking body from underneath a sheet of ice. I thought you were dead, okay, dead.”

His jaw ticked as he closed his eyes and you could see how dark they were underneath, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“I carry you back here and - god - you were so cold, freezing, and I stripped all those clothes off thinking ‘Bucky she’s going to kill you’ and then you wanted to hold me while you slept. And you could’ve died, I thought you had died, and it’d be my fault because I made a fucking bet with you just so you’d talk to me and smile at me and I wanted you to win, I really did, because when you win you look at me and your eyes sparkle and I can pretend its because of me -” he took a breath, shocked that he’d allowed such a stark confession out. But he was so tired and -

“It is you.” You whispered, “if my eyes sparkle -” your lips quirked up at the corner, “if they do it is because of you. I like when you make bets with me because then I know you’ll be thinking about me. I like when we fight because you touch me and I can pretend it's because you want to and -”

Your thoughts were cut off by Bucky wrapping his arms around your back, his hands were wide on your shoulders when he pulled you up and into him, kissing you hard enough to bruise.

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” his eyes were still full of emotion, his eyes piercing, it still felt warm to be under his gaze but there was something extra something more in your honesty that had you pressing your lips to his again.

“I fucking love you too.” You confessed against his mouth and jumped into his arms.

Bucky stumbled out from the bathroom, balancing you on his hips so his hands could cradle your back, pressing you close. Between you he could feel how soft your breasts were, peaked nipples hard and your heartbeat fast.

Your chest heaved, pulling back for breath with a huge smile, a laugh in the corner of your mouth.

"We've been so stupid."

"Uh -huh," Bucky knelt, lowering you to pile of blankets that had been kicked off the sofa so recently, "stupid, yeah." He went back to kissing you, holding himself up with one hand and using the other to trace over every curve of your body.

"I've waited so long to have you like this," he murmered, lips brushing your own, "and you've been so sick, I can wait a while longer."

Bucky pulled away, but you tightened your grip around his neck and pulled him down with you.

"If you think you're leaving me now," you groaned, "you're very much mistaken."

Bucky's smile turned almost feral, his pupils wide and eyes roving your face for any sign of discomfort.

"I'll be very -"

"Bucky,"

"Hmm?" He was lost in touching you again,

"Just fuck me."

He seemed to lose all control, crushing a kiss against your lips and letting the hands that had been so gentle grip you even tighter, his finger pads digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, tipping your hips up so he could grind his hard cock against you.

"Is that an M249 in your -"

"I'm just very pleased to see you," he countered, smiling into your kisses.

You laughed, the fire of your sparing still there in the way he hiked your leg over his hip, and you remembered all the times he'd rolled you over on the mats just like this, your breath fanning over his cheek and his body so close to yours.

"Can't promise it's as big though."

You slid your hand into his tight tactical trousers and squeezed the still growing bulge beneath, "I dunno, Buck, pretty close."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I'm exactly where I want to be."

His kisses slowed and he pulled back, brushing a hand down your cheek, "me too."

Sam was exhausted when he pulled the truck up to the safe house, Steve was dosing in the passenger seat after his stint at driving and Sam was looking forward to his own sleep before they made their way to the evac point.

He shoved the door open, expecting to see the familiar sight of you bickering over cards but -

“Sam!” Bucky shouted, throwing a blanket over your naked body and accidentally exposing himself in the process. “Get out!”

You laughed, clinging to Bucky’s arm in peels of laughter.

“Steve!” Sam shouted as he retreated, “you owe me twenty dollars! And Bucky owes me an hour with his therapist”

“He can have whatever he wants as long as I get to keep you.” Bucky smiled, kissing you on the cheek.

“That’s so cheesy, Bucky, gross.” Your laughter turned into giggles.

“You love it.” He kissed you again and your lips parted in anticipation.

“Hmm, I guess I do…” You let him push you back into the blankets, kissing down your neck before- “ I bet you I can get dressed faster!”

#Bucky #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky x reader #Bucky/Reader #bucky barnes x you #Bucky x You #Bucky Barnes/You #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #buckybarnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x female yn

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enchantressiren · 2 months ago

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❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐀 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥.❞

Who has their eye on you? (Very detailed)

Masterlist.

Author's note,

I would appreciate if everyone read this -> Boundaries.

Divider.

Pile I.

If you’re into men, then this pile is for you. If not, you picked the wrong pile (an intuitive disclaimer).

There is a tall man who makes sure he takes care of himself and always eyes your body like eye candy. Their smell is rich, it makes your nostril flare up slightly, aching to be beneath him and allowing him to stuff you full. This man knows how to draw you in and likes to play coy around you. Possibility of him manifesting you as their specific person with one sided love (on his side), or you both are manifesting each other unaware you both are looking for the same qualities in each other. He is someone who likes to subtly touch you and apologize gracefully for others when you know damn well he is bullshitting. He is someone who focuses on being the best version of himself for the wealth that streams from his wallet. Meaning, it does not matter who you are, he is going to do everything in his power to take what is his. Even if that means it is you and your private parts.

Some of you actually have already had sex with him and have made him your friend with benefits, or you have somewhat of a situationship. During sex, they absolutely love to grope your ass, always telling you how perfect it is and how it fits right with his dick. How it thrusts nicely into your ass or pussy (depending on your situation). Or how it feels so warm on the tip of his dick as it hits and molds nicely into your sweet spot. He is the epitome of those mafia stories you see in smut stories or Wattpad stories (but very nicely done stories). He reeks of sexy perfume and dark red, adding a bit of dark blue if he were a color. His aura drags you in, which is how the both of you had sex in the bathroom, somewhere with people, whether it was hidden or risky, or how you both met if you don’t have a specific relationship with them. He is someone who will brag about how good his aftercare is but suck painfully with it and need your guide for it. His ego is through the roof, but you make this bastard soft as a puppy. He is aching to be around you, and when he is, he always struggles to hide his boner, or the bulge in his pants. He loves sucking your juices or will if you do decide to have sex or date him.

If you do decide to date him, the relationship will be gorgeous and surprisingly healthy considering how his mind runs. Or how you have seen him with others, the trope “I hate everyone, and I mean everyone but you and my pet” is really it. Key of advice: make sure to give him a blowjob during angry sex so he can become pudding and pamper you. His last lover never gave him oral, so he has been craving it, but also, it is part of a love language for him.

Masterlist.

Pile II.

It’s not a who, more so a what. Now, I know that sounds confusing, but let me make it clear. Do you speak to deities? Spirits, ghosts, and so forth that are associated with sexual energy? Because that is what I am picking up, and their energy is so soothing that you know you can trust them, and they are there to guide you through your journey. I would not say they are like spirit guides, or part of your ancestral guide, but they are similar to a teacher.

They are eyeing you because they want to protect you and make sure you follow their teachings. A lot of you are becoming impatient with your future spouse, lover, fwb, etc., coming to you and assuming every person that feels ‘’right’’ to you, or that you connect well with, is your lover/situationship. None of them that are coming are yours; you are supposed to meet them, and that is what they told you, so listen to them. They are meant to help you despite what others have said about them. Some of the people that you have spoken to were into this and have told you not to trust them because of what they are and the stories about them, but from an energy perspective, they are trustworthy and actually adore you. Now, I am always hesitant to talk about deity energy since I don’t know if the pile you are reading is actually for you or not, but I will give you signs that may help:

Lucifer, Lilith, Nyx, Athena, Zeus, Tlazolteotl, sponge it up, something to do with pain, tears, and breaking his heart, breaking my heart, Apollo is my certain love, and the demons of it’s figure.

Now, if these signs are not fitting with what you have seen, heard, spoken to, etc., then do not trust the deity you speak with. It does not matter if the deity you speak to is not in the sign list, it is only what signs were channeled. and what resonated. And if it does not fit through, please cleanse your energy fast and efficiently since I keep seeing red warning signs and alarms ringing in my head.

Moving on, your deity has spoken to you about the gifts your future person will bring into the relationship, but they have spoken about how you are being ungrateful with the circumstance you have right now. I understand that sometimes trying to figure out who your future person can be draining and exciting, but it can also cause weird paranoia. And that sometimes it feels like those mystery games, but you have to let it go, trust in your deity (and spirit guides for some), and work on yourself. You have to learn to trust your intuition about which deity you speak to, about who you have sex with, and when you masturbate (because intuition tells me you are causing yourself more pain in associating yourself with your trauma kinks/thoughts instead of focusing on what makes you feel good), and ignoring the signs that tell you to leave certain situations surrounding you. Your environment has a lot of toxicity, and you only stay in them so you do not feel lonely, but sometimes it is a good thing to be lonely since you learn a lot about who you are. And that is something you need and what your deities have been telling you. Some of you are ignoring their teachings because you use people to hide away from your pain.

You need to talk to yourself as you would with someone else that you felt close to and get to know yourself as a best friend. Learn to appreciate your behaviors that you find “repulsive,” and understand that it is okay to be different than everyone else. Being different is not repulsive, it is a beautiful and cool thing. Fitting in is what is ruining your relationship with yourself and your future person. So instead of being so impatient about something that can happen within the year, why don’t you use that time to do better for yourself? Because at the end of the day, the only person who is stopping you is you. You are the person who can change your world, even if it is something small. For example, let’s say you are living in a toxic environment, but you have a desire to learn all you can? You can use free resources that allow you to. The internet has the same resources that allow you to learn, you do not need courses to learn or scholarly reports to learn. Everything is available to us now because of how broad the internet is. Now, you could have complained about it, but you did not and decided to do better for yourself and change. One step at something is much better than doing absolutely nothing. Even if you read something for a minute, it can still benefit you.

I felt like something was missing when I was editing your work, but some of you have to understand this fully. You cannot manifest your future person either. Some of you thought about it throughout this pile, and like I mentioned, I understand how desperate you are for love, but this paranoia that is surrounding you and your heart is the problem. I understand that you can manifest anything, and it does not matter how you do it, but you have this belief that it does matter, and you must have emotions in order to manifest. So instead, why don't you have a clear mind and heart for this person, so when you do meet them, you can be better for both yourself and them as well as make it easier for yourself to manifest with a clear conscience? Do not be your own blockage when it comes to this or sabotage yourself through your overwhelming paranoia that surrounds your mind every second of your time.

Masterlist.

Pile III.

Your first kiss back from August when you were either a kid or a teenager. You still keep in touch with them. I wouldn’t say the kiss meant anything between you both, I would say it happened by accident for the both of you until now. Have you noticed their flirty remarks with you, especially when you hang out around others, how they only gaze at you despite others coming to flirt with them, how they pamper you for no reason, or how they are doing it more frequently, how they decided it would be best if they stood next to you where the cars are located rather than the other way around? How they believe it is important for you to suddenly take care of yourself, and though some of you already do, they make it somewhat overbearing, but you push it aside because it is them. Have you also noticed how doting they are with you, how sometimes they coddle you, or how they make sure you have taken your medication when it comes to your body or latest surgery? Have you noticed all of these, or have you been pushing them aside because you would rather stay oblivious instead of admitting your teenage crush has feelings for you, or perhaps has already fallen in love with you? With your ability to be genuine with everyone, with your ability to show people respect and compassion without seeking anything back, with your ability to write efficiently without the need to re-edit your work, with your ability to be smooth when you think you are being geeky and awkward. Have you also noticed how they make somewhat dirty remarks only around you? Have you noticed they do it out of respect for your body and privacy, and yet you still decide to ‘’act’’ oblivious because it is too scary to admit they like you back? The word "back” scares you, it is like your heart is trying to escape, but a strong pull is pushing you back into the same corner. It is not a bad thing to be committed to someone in a relationship, but for you, being stuck in one relationship and not having the ability to explore with others seems suffocating. And for you, all of this stems from trauma, that one memory you are pushing away in hopes it gets pushed away as well.

I am not the person to decide for you whether or not you explore this relationship with them; all I will mention are some things that may change your mind since that is what your heart is begging for you to do. As well as some key things to help you heal.

When things become tough for you, your favorite activity is throwing the relationship away or sabotaging your achievements through disrespecting your honor and then laughing about it. When things become tough, it is easier for you to feel shame or regret rather than deal with the toxicity of your actions. And lastly, when things become tough, it is easier for you to be your own ruthless villain than to take accountability for your wrongdoings. Yet, at the end of the day, there is one person who has always stayed by your side, never changing their mind on who you are because they know how far you can go. They know how much potential you would have if you allowed yourself to deal with your sadness and realize that being sad is not a weakness nor is it a blessing. Our emotions are simply emotions, they come and go. Sometimes they make us realize some things, giving us mental clarity, and other times, they are a reminder of how we feel about the situation, or internally. In short, emotions are subjective and man made, therefore, feeling those emotions should not be the problem when it comes to challenges arising. You should understand that you are the one creating those emotions.

For example, let’s say that I am dealing with a breakup. The usual response would be to cry about it and think about them constantly, be angry and try to seek revenge or be petty, maybe sleep around and brush them out of my mind, etc. But this would stem from how secure I am with who I am and how our relationship was like. Though, if I were secure, then I would understand what had happened, use that sadness as an opportunity to improve, and learn the lessons. Embrace the fond memories, or perhaps use those memories to find someone better for myself. But then again, this is my idea of how a breakup would go if someone was healthy or unhealthy. How do you see it? You have to ask yourself this.

Once you have asked yourself this and finally understood it, ask yourself another question. “Why do I feel the need to distance myself from those that actually care for me? What am I seeking when I do this, and how is it helping me?” Asking this will help you understand if you actually want a relationship in the first place and help trigger those fears in a safe manner instead of you pushing yourself to be someone else when you answer self-aware questions.

Now that you have asked these and fully understood them, allow me to speak about your friend, and then it will be your choice. And if you need to stop this reading and come back after a month, then please read this when you are fully ready.

This person has been by your side when you ruin your past relationships. They are someone who will stop what they are doing to be by your side or help you when your past comes back to you. Sometimes, they will pamper you with fresh fruits or hot meals and hope it can soothe your mind away from those thoughts that have been affecting you lately. They are someone who will soothe your tears with kisses or caress your tears away with pure determination; someone who sees the bright side of things when you think it is better to be realistic and pessimistic. They are someone who texts you faster and makes sure your feelings are taken into consideration, as well as your family (if you are close with them) or your pet that may be sick at the moment, and if not, your pets. They will buy you the things you adore without any expectations or seeking your validation (your exs were like that). They are someone who will be firm with you when you make a mistake but not allow you to walk over them. They are someone who sets boundaries with you and others, and though it does not go well with others, they keep their head high and focus on what is more important to them. They are someone who hates the concept of gossip and makes sure to not engage, and when they are pulled into it, they act oblivious and make sure people see them as ‘dumb’ or ‘silly.’ To them, it is better to be seen as that than engage with something repulsive like that. They are someone who makes sure they uplift people, especially behind their back, and you have seen it multiple times, thus causing your heart to fall for them.

Yeah, you are crushing on them hard since you were young but have been pushing away from your past experiences. Some of you are actually in love with them but keep gaslighting yourselves because it is easier for you. And ironically, ‘Love Someone’ by Lukas Graham popped up. It fits quite well with how they view you and how you view this whole situation. I believe there is nothing else to channel because once you listen to the song, everything will make sense.

Masterlist.

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bvidzsoo · 6 months ago

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♡ ATEEZ as dads ♡

author: bvidzsoo

pairing: ot8 x reader

tw: none

word count: 3.3k

genre: established relationships, parents, blurbs/scenarios

rating: sfw

summary: have you ever tried envisioning Ateez as fathers? well, this is my take on the subject ^^ a collective of short and cute drabbles bellow the cut

a/n: hello, my lovelies, this was a cute little request and despite not taking requests (just wanted to clear that up), today is my birthday and I decided to make this my little gift for you all! ^^ also, anonie, I hope this is satisfying and close to how you imagined it to be! divider

🐿️Hongjoong

☆ Okay, so, despite all the boomer vibes I get from Hongjoong he'd still be the coolest dad, like?! All of your kid's friends would love him because he's just the type of father that not only shows up for his child but also like partakes in like absolutely everything?! Oh, you have an event at school where you have to bring one parent? Yup, Hongjoong is going (dressed to the nines, might I add, while also wearing something matching with his kid) and he's also going to be cheering you on loudly from the sidelines (to the point the other parents will be side-eyeing him, but that's fine, he doesn't care). And like, he's also the type of dad to sneak inside his kid's room when it's completely dark and then scare the living shit out of them as he starts making monster-like sounds, the kid is terrified okay, but soon they are giggling and wrestling, and the child will go to sleep rather fast because Hongjoong managed to wear them out. But Hongjoong is also the type of father who wants to capture everything so he always has his camera with him and he takes a lot of pictures, okay, and he also makes albums at the end of each year because his kid is growing and he doesn't want to miss even a second (are you sobbing? I would be if I had a dad like him).

☆ And Hongjoong is also the type of father to plan trips mostly in nature, where you can go on a hike and just forget about the ruckus in the city, where you can connect with nature and just be in the moment. He would definitely pick a colour scheme or one clothing item that would be matching for all the family members because it's cute and because he's infinitely proud and eager to show off his kid(s) and wife. He cracks jokes (even if they are your typical dad jokes), and he makes sure his kid(s) feel seen and heard. He tries not to pressure them and lets them explore the world while remaining a guide they can always rely on.

🐰Seonghwa

♡ Yup, trust this man to get up before his wife and child to make them breakfast and something to pack for later when they get hungry, he's that type of guy, yeah. We know he's soft-spoken, and I see him as the type of dad who is very patient with his kid(s) and who pays a lot of attention to them to make sure he truly understands them. I feel like Seonghwa would organize "chill nights" where you all cosy up on the couch and pick a movie (which is age-appropriate, obviously) and he lets you eat excessive popcorn because he knows his wife isn't keen on their kid(s) eating junk food.

♡ Also, I get the feeling that holidays would be big at the Park residence. Like, he'd make sure everything is perfect because he'd be also organizing big ass get-togethers where both sides of the family are coming over for lunch or dinner. And I think he'd also love Christmas because he could spoil his family without getting complaints or reprimands, so yeah, he'd make a big deal out of it each.time. He'd help cook and bake and clean, he'd probably do more of that, and he'd disappear for hours because he was looking for the perfect gifts (and trust that each person will get at least three items if not more). I also think Seonghwa would check on his kid(s) anytime he wakes up in the middle of the night, and he'd certainly tuck them in each time, pressing a kiss to their forehead(s). He'd be very gentle and soft and the kid(s) would grow up in a safe space where they'd know they can freely speak and express their likes and dislikes because their parents will be supportive no matter what.

🐶Yunho

�� This man is a giant, we know that too well, so honestly, piggybacks and him letting his kid(s) sit on his shoulders while they are out and about would be routine at this point. Like, even if his kid wouldn't ask to be carried, Yunho would be sweeping them off their feet and letting them do whatever as he carried them around. I feel like he'd also quite often get cute aggression, so he'd definitely be tackling them (in a gentle and non-endangering way) to press a dozen kisses against their cheeks, and I think he'd also love tickling them because of their cute laughter! (I'm struggling rn, who's getting cute aggression now??) Anyways, I have a feeling that if his kid(s) somehow manages to hurt themselves (like they fall and scrape their knees or hands) Yunho would rush to their side and hold them and sweet talk to them with a pout on his lips and sad eyes, trying to lighten their mood while he tells them that everything will be okay.

❀ I feel like Yunho is the type to get emotional over, perhaps, non-trivial things that concern his kids. Their tooth fell out and the Toothfairy is coming? Yup, a tear is rolling down his cheek because "Omg, the kid is getting bigger!", also you know that thing where they make you stand against the wall (or edge of the door) to measure your height while you're still growing? Yeah, I feel like Yunho would have to take a walk around the house after measuring his kid's height in order to will the tears away because the kid is two centimetres taller than he was a month ago and he “can't do this, why are they growing so quickly?!” Yunho is definitely the type of father who wakes up his kid(s) in the morning by brushing their hair aside and whispering to them softly, coaxing them out of their sleep. He'd also be always smiling, his kid(s) wouldn't know what Yunho's serious face looks like because he'd never looked at them like that. He'd be cracking jokes and making his kid(s) laugh, but he'd also listen to them if they came to him for advice, and I feel like he's great at reading people's moods, so he'd know when to offer them space or annoy them until the kid(s) get fed up with him and give in to him wanting to kick a ball or something.

🦄Yeosang

🜲 Well, let's be honest, with a dad like Yeosang, I feel like the kid(s) would be considered a little peculiar? But like in a very positive sense of the word because have you seen Yeosang's humour? Immaculate, dare I say, and his kid(s) have definitely inherited that from their dad. I feel like Yeosang is generally a calm and quiet person, but when it comes to his kid(s) he gets like hyper because he wants to do everything they ask him to, and he'll talk and talk until his kid(s) are pressing their tiny hands against his mouth to make him shut up. I think Yeosang would love to listen to his kid(s) stories, like "Yes, tell me all about your mate from kindergarten and his rescued grasshopper and also, what do you mean you ate a spider, child?! Spiders are not for eating!!" Yeah, I feel like Yeosang would forget his kid(s) at daycare at least once or twice (only at the beginning, I promise, like my dad forgot me there once: TMI). So what I was saying is, that because Yeosang loves hearing his kid(s)' stories, he will be reacting with grand gestures and everything and it will only amuse his child, because they'd get even more excited to tell him more about his day.

🜲 Also, I feel like while his kid is a baby and can't speak, he'd blabber back to them and constantly poke their tummy "Because babies are so cute, I think I'm going to combust", and he'd definitely rush up to his wife with the baby in his arms to show off that they have reached new levels of communication, and it'd surprise his wife because the two are now blabbering to each other and the baby is laughing and Yeosang is grinning so wide his cheeks are hurting. I think Yeosang would love to take the baby out on walks as the sun is setting (assuming they are in Seoul) and watch the sunset as the sun disappears behind the Han River, and he'd definitely snap pictures with the baby where his face isn't fully showing just so that he can post it, and then he'd take selfies and send them to the family's group chat. I think Yeosang would be the type of father who never shuts up about their kid (even to his own parents) and tries to be the best father, super supportive and, not going to lie, he'd probably spoil them too because he wants to give them everything they want and need. He'd be always there for them, even if just from the sidelines, and if there were a contest for proudest father of the year, Yeosang would surely win it!

🐱San

❀ The most important question here is, who's the baby? Okay, I'm joking but San would definitely sleep facing the baby, eyes watery because he still cannot believe that's his child and that child is going to grow up by his side and he's created a tiny life that will turn into a grown person one day and he cannot stop it just go with the flow. So yes, San would be the emotional type of father, but not to the extent that it becomes uncomfortable lol. He has strong principals/morals so he'll definitely teach his child the views he has of the world and life itself, but he'd make sure to leave space for his kid(s)' own opinions and views, so that they can create their own believes while taking an example out of their father. We all know San's background, so I think he'd definitely sign up his kid(s) to Taekwondo or another similar sport, mostly because he wants them to know how to defend themselves, but also because it teaches them discipline.

❀ San's kid(s)' will be the politest and most well-behaved you'll ever see, I think they'd rarely cry and stick close to their parents because they know they are safe and comforting. San would have a close and good bond with his kid(s), he'd take them places and let them explore the world. Given that San loves amusement parks so much, I'm sure he'd make it a weekly program to take them there, trying out rides that were appropriate for their ages, laughing all day and eating whatever their tummies (and hearts) desired. I think San would only give his kid(s)' the best, so yes, they'll go to the best school, they'll only wear the best clothes, and they'll only eat healthy food (with exceptions, ofc, he's no tyrant to deny a good hamburger and fries), but he wouldn't spoil his kid(s) to the point they become brats. Also, I feel like San would love it if his children would be on good terms with his best friend's kids, so yup, expect a lot of get-togethers and trips with the two/three (or eight lmao) families, which would be a hustle to every outsider lol. So, all in all, San would be strict but so very loving, he'd do his best to raise his kids well-mannered and humble (just like him bfr) and he'd make sure that he was a strong pillar they could always lean on and count on. (why am I getting emotional too...?)

🐣Mingi

🜲 *sigh*, where do I begin??? Bickering, lots of it, because "What do you mean you don't like mashed potatoes but you'll eat french fries?!!! They are the same, child, just eat it and stop whining!!" oh, and also, "What do you mean you want to go party, it's 11 pm and you're only seventeen?!" (if you've seen 10 Things I Hate About You, just picture the girls' dad when he makes Bianca wear that pregnancy vest before going out LMAO). So, yes, lots of nagging too, I guess, but it's actually well-intended and oh so loving!! Everyone thinks Mingi is intimidating (bfr besties) and I think his kid(s)' friends would be intimidated at first sight, but then Mingi invites them inside and goes to the kitchen to fetch them some snacks, and he accidentally knocks into the chair or table and he swears loudly and the kids start giggling because swearing is an adult thing still and it's funny, and then Mingi appears in the doorway and he's scowling, but he flushes when he realizes the kids heard him, so he tries to play it off but really, he looks like a clown so his child's friends instantly take a liking to him!

🜲 You can't contradict me on this, but I feel like if his kid started crying over something, Mingi would stare at them blankly before starting to (fake) cry too and this often leads to 2 outcomes: 1. the kid stops crying and looks at him like Mingi's crazy (judgingly) & 2. the kid starts crying harder because they know Mingi is making fun of them, and it makes Mingi panic, so now he's cradling them to his chest and trying to shush them and calm them down, because "If the wife hears, we're both dead kid, got it???" I think Mingi would be his kid's best friend before being their father, if you get what I mean? Like, sure, he'll scold them and put them in their place if needed, but he'll totally gossip with them and bring them a sandwich just so he can lounge around in their room (because Mingi won't admit it, but the kid is getting bigger and he feels like he's running out of time and that's terrifying), and he'll tell them things that perhaps should've been better if he kept it to himself. I think he'd always be in front of his kid(s)' school (no matter the age) after classes to pick them up, and he'd definitely do carpool karaoke on their way home, only running one red light (excuse the man, he's excited or something). So yeah, Mingi would be caring and careful with his kid(s), attentive and there for them, but he'd show them that just because he's their father it doesn't mean they aren't equal (most of the time), and they don't have to hide anything from him, really. (Just maybe the fact that they didn't come home last night at the agreed-upon hour, oops~)

🦊Wooyoung

♡ Loud, both of them, loud. But it's fine, because if they are loud at least the wife knows they are enjoying themselves. Because when it becomes quiet, that's when you just know they are up to no good. Like that one time when you were working from home and their giggling and screeching stopped, prompting you to check up on them, only to find your kid(s)' hair drenched in some neon-pink colour which is, ofc, washable, your makeup strewn all over the floor because Wooyoung was feeling funny and decided to paint their faces (it looked terrible, but you said nothing). Also, menaces, both of them, to the point they'd wear matching Halloween costumes and freak out the whole street as they'd randomly start chasing both children and adults (they are either dressed as Chucky or Ghostface, there's no in-between). All of that put together, however, Wooyoung would be always by his kid(s)' side if he could, and he'd be teaching them everything about the world. He'd read to them a lot and he'd watch a lot of History and National Geography with them lol.

♡ And yes, we know Wooyoung is a very affectionate person and that he likes to show his love physically, so there would be a lot of kisses, cuddles, hugs and tickles. Wooyoung would love to carry his kid(s) in his arms while they were still that age, holding their small heads against his chest, pointing out things to them as he explained everything the baby was curious about. I feel like Wooyoung would also take the family to the seaside a lot, he'd love to go inside the sea and play around by splashing each other, accidentally getting swept up by a wave, making his kid(s) laugh as their father struggled to find his footing again. And I'm pretty sure Wooyoung would constantly feed his kid(s) while they were eating, putting more and more food in their plate despite it being almost full already, and no matter what age, Wooyoung will coo at his kid(s) because they will always be his babies! (*cue the sobbing*) And I am sure Wooyoung would be his kid(s) safe haven, someone whose arms are always wide open and ready to comfort or just to hold them, remind them that he's always there for them. Wooyoung would be the type of father to encourage his kids, always, teaching them that the world's opinion about them never mattered and never will, that they should always chase their own dreams and live a happy and fulfilled life. And, similar to Hongjoong, his camera's SD card would be filled with so many memories, ah…

🐻Jongho

☆ A complete jokester, sneaky and the type of father to first laugh when their kid falls before going over to pick them up. I feel like the kid wouldn't be able to tell if their father is their worst enemy or best friend at first, because Jongho isn't afraid to scrutinize them and judge them down to the bone, but the next second the man is sticking his tongue out and cracking a joke, and the child is confused because why can't their father just pick one mood for five minutes at least? I think Jongho would love to antagonize his children with dad jokes, he's aware they are terrible but seeing the look on his children's faces is always worth it. Imagine Jongho trolling his kids any chance he gets, as an excuse for preparing them for life (we all know he just likes playing with them), and he'd be tapping their shoulders and hiding behind a tree or something, and he'd run after them down the dark hallway, making scary noises, and he'd randomly open their doors and just stand there with a blank face until his kid(s) are either scared or screaming at him to get out.

☆ I don't know why, but, I have to mention cooking. I'm pretty sure he'd gather up the family at least thrice a week, and their evening would consist of picking a recipe and making it together while some sports plays on the TV and the parents are sipping on wine while the children can have orange juice or maybe chocolate milk. I also think he'd often buy his kid(s) flowers, no matter the gender because everyone deserves flowers, and he'd probably buy them chocolate too because (guess what?) he secretly eats them and blames it on his wife so the children don't pester him about the missing chocolate lol. I feel like Jongho would raise his kids to be smart and logical, always finding solutions and not fearing the unknown (I mean, if your father chases you down a dark corridor, who fears ghosts anymore, no??) and because he's a little sneaky shit, of course, his children will end up like him too ("it's okay to cheat when playing board games", would say Jongho but also whine for an hour if he found out one of the family member's did cheat, acting as if he didn't also). Jongho would be their best pall but also their role model, he'd raise his children to be outstanding and determined, unafraid to go after what they want. I know he'd support their hobbies and always encourage them to try out new things. He'd love quiet evenings where he can hear his kid(s) in their room(s) giggling and laughing about whatever, calling him to keep them company before it's time for bed. <3

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livelaughloveluffy · 1 month ago

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love languages - trafalgar water d. law

a/n: i definitely needed this fic, i've been a bit sad today so writing this cheered me up a bit, hopefully it can do the same for you all as well!! i started a higher dose of sertraline today, so hopefully i level out and feel better soon.

nothing but fluff here 💗

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how he shows love:

acts of service - law is a silent lover. words have never really been his strong suit and he often has a hard time physically conveying his emotions. his silence, however, is not synonymous to lack of effort. law shows up for you physically. he does hundreds of menial little tasks for you (when he found the time to get them done, you'll never know). whether it's pre-packing your lunch, having your meds ready next to water and breakfast when you wake up, drawing you a warm bath, taking care of your laundry and other chores. and he'll never mention it at all, you'll just happen to find these things all done on your own. he'll constantly brush of your thanks and appreciation with a mumble of "it's nothing.. i was already doing it anyways..." but one restless night, you catch him in the act of secretly folding your laundry, a rare sight you savored and committed to memory.

quality time - it doesn't matter if the two of you are together but focused on your own tasks, attention divided from each other, or if you're wrapped up in each other's arms. law truly doesn't mind either way, just knowing that you're close by is more than enough for him. and while the captain of the heart pirates may do his best to act otherwise, he definitely prefers having you a minimum of an arm's length away. of course, law does enjoy actively finding activities for the two of you to partake in together or places to visit and explore, in his opinion, it's all worthless without you to do it with.

how he feels loved:

words of affirmation - as much as it flusters the captain, your small whispers of praise and affection mean the world to him. while law may have a hard time returning the gesture, the way his entire body seems to relax at your words doesn't go unnoticed by you. until finally just the melodious sound of your voice instantly brings him comfort, something that unconsciously conditioned him to unwind. law is the type of man to take every comment to heart, as if he's collecting and saving them in his very being. so your sincere admiration and words of encouragement hold much more power than you'll ever know, fueling him to keep going.

physical touch - despite the limited conversations the two of you have shared about the topic of his rough childhood, it is abundantly clear that law never fully got over a lot of his abandonment issues. he only truly feels safe when your arms are wrapped around him, lips pressing gentle kisses against his forehead as you softly stroke his raven locks. every kiss and hand hold is treasure in his eyes, and if he could freeze time, he'd live in those moments forever. while the crew of the heart pirates may roll their eyes and poke fun at your sickly sweet nothings and other expressions of pda, they will never comment on your physical closeness to the captain. your hands often resting on his thigh whenever the two of you are sitting down, or on the smalls of his back as you two stand together, are acknowledged but never discussed among the crew. though shachi and penguin can often be found with their faces almost turning blue trying to hold back addressing the amount of times you'll walk into meetings, just to stand behind law's chair, resting your chin of the top of his head while you rub his shoulders.

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rottiens · 5 months ago

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✮ tags. established relationship, thighs fucking, fem!reader, praising (good girl, attagirl).

✮ notes. I mean had to,,, Isagi with a thighs kink is asking me to write this (please expect more on this ksjd), thanks for reading! divider creds: adornedwithlight.

✮ wc. 3.0k

This is Isagi's first official relationship, and sometimes that makes him feel unsure about how he should act or whether he should choose his words more carefully now that you've gone from being best friends to being a couple. You're his girlfriend, and while he used to fantasize about the idea many times, experiencing it in reality —holding your hand, receiving your sweet kisses— till brings a knot in his stomach. Every time he calls you “his girl” or “his girlfriend,” the weight of the word reminds him that this time it's real and not a dream like the ones he had so many times.

However, despite the trust that clearly exists between you, there are certain aspects of himself that cause him discomfort that he can't ignore... a tension in his stomach that comes with a mixture of nerves and guilt. That feeling squeezes him inside every time he thinks of confessing to you, for example, how much he is fascinated by your thighs and the things he has come to imagine when he sees them.

And you, without realizing it, don't make things easy either with your clothing choices: those short skirts that leave little to the imagination, tight dresses, or when you decide to cover your legs with black stockings or knee-high socks. Sometimes, it seems like you do it on purpose, given how often Isagi has gotten a glimpse of your panties peeking out from between the folds of your skirt every time you bend over.

As Isagi relives this feeling of embarrassment again, you are kneeling on the floor, curiously exploring the contents of an antique box, filled with Isagi's memories. Dusty framed photos, trophies and medals won throughout his career, little relics that speak of his accomplishments and passion that fill you with pride and curiosity as you continue your exploration. Isagi is lying on the bed, leaning on several pillows and holding his phone in his hand, but unable to resist glancing at you from time to time. He watches every time you pull out an object, admire it and take a picture of it, and although he finds you adorable, he keeps his comments to himself, quietly enjoying the scene.

Then, you pull out an old shirt from one of his previous teams, and hold it in front of him with a mischievous smile. His gaze softens, the memories stirring some nostalgia in him.

“Can I try it on?” you ask, cocking your face to one side with an innocent air.

Without much thought, Isagi nods and sets his phone down on the side of the mattress, this time focused entirely on you. At times like this, he's thankful he's wearing baggy shorts, otherwise you'd instantly notice the effect you're having on him. The cotton hirt, a somewhat faded navy blue, reaches just above your thighs, threatening to reveal more than it should if you decide to raise your arms or move nonchalantly around his room. The possibility of that happening, that the tiny skirt rises a little higher than it should, makes his breathing quicken a little, knowing that this time, the glimpse of your panties could last much longer than a fleeting moment.

Isagi clears his throat, trying to hide the blush that colors his face, but the attempt only makes his shyness even more apparent. With hurried movements, he grabs a pillow and places it over his crotch, hoping you won't notice his erection.

“I love the way it looks on you... much better than it does on me,” he lets out a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood, though the slight tremor in his voice gives it away. “You can keep it, if you want.” He smiles at you, trying to keep his composure, while his eyes can't help but roam over the way the fabric molds to your body.

You get up from the floor and, after smoothing the shirt down a little, you walk over to the bed. You slide down on all fours until you're settled between his legs, with the pillow still sandwiched between you like a fragile barrier. Your arms entwine around his neck, and at that moment he inhales deeply: now you smell of him, of the memories impregnated in that old shirt that hadn't seen the light for years, and you also smell of you, of that sweet, floral perfume that every time you wear it awakens in him a mixture of intense feelings.

“Thank you. Of course I wanna keep it,” you murmur before peppering his face with a shower of fleeting kisses, each one making it even harder for him to ignore the closeness. The softness of your lips, the touch of your fingers sliding to the nape of his neck, cause him to let out a soft moan. You pause for a moment, pulling away to look at him intently, watching the expression on his face.

“You look... so tense all of a sudden. Is everything okay?” you ask, your eyes searching for some sign of what's going through his mind. You watch his cheeks, now as flushed as you had noticed from before, when you were not yet so close.

For a moment, Isagi finds himself at a loss as to what to do with his own hands. Finally he decides to place them on your lower back, leaving them there, still. Then, he spreads his thighs a little further apart to give you space and allow you to settle better between them. Sitting back on your heels, your gaze, laden with sweet, lingering concern, seems to pierce him, and that unsettles him. His blue eyes soften as he swallows saliva, wetting his dry throat before trying to say something. It was now or never.

You have been friends forever. You had known him in childhood, and what started as sporadic conversations soon turned into long, deep talks in which he felt increasingly exposed and understood. When he was away from home, just a phone call from you was enough to comfort him, to remind him that all the effort and sacrifice in his career would one day pay off.

He trusted you absolutely, in every word of support and in the certainty that, come what may, there was nothing that could scare you away. You knew his most hidden and secret fears, even some of his desires and aspirations that he had never shared with anyone else. If, deep down, you rejected that confession about his obsession with your thighs, that was okay; at least it wasn't as embarrassing as admitting how much he loved it when you praised him, right?

Isagi lets out a sigh, as if he had finally dropped a weight he was carrying. “It's nothing, it's just... you look so good in my shirt,” he murmurs, his voice laden with that mixture of nervousness and yearning he tries so hard to hide. At his confession, your shoulders drop visibly relaxed, though you hold your posture, waiting for him to continue. “I'm gonna say it, as weird as it sounds, but your thighs...” His words snap, and your eyes widen barely, as a hesitant smile threatens to form on your lips.

“I know,” you reply softly, and hearing you, Isagi feels his heart beat even harder. You have lightened the burden of his words by acknowledging something he had always been afraid to say aloud. “I've noticed, you're not exactly... discreet,” you add, and a soft, sparkling chuckle escapes from you, causing his muscles to tense with a current of excitement and nerves. Then, leaning in just barely close, you tell him in a low, expectant voice, “I don't think it's strange. But I want to hear, exactly, what you think.”

Those last words hang in the air between you, and he feels a current of honesty and vulnerability begin to work its way up his throat.

Isagi stands still for a long second, as if searching for the right words or perhaps thinking about what he's about to do. You wish you could read what's hidden behind those big blue eyes that always look at you so tenderly.

Slowly, his gaze descends to your thighs, and his fingers begin to gently caress them up and down. The skin under his fingers feels incredibly soft, the gentle rubbing of your after-shower lotion sliding under his palms. With his thumbs, he begins to trace small circles that seem to accompany the rhythm of his next words.

“I want to kiss them,” he confesses, a pause in his voice as his eyes lift to meet yours. Then he hesitates a moment longer. “I want to leave marks with my teeth on them. I wanna-” His voice grows more confident, his touch becomes a little firmer, and his hands move to the edge of his shirt, which barely covers your core.

“You can say it,” you encourage him, moistening your lips in anticipation.

“I want to fuck them,” he says, holding your gaze. For a moment, your gazes intertwine in silence, and without a word, you seek his fingers with yours, gently guiding them to slide deeper, higher, closer to the edge of your panties.

“You can do whatever you want with them,” you whisper sweetly, an invitation full of trust.

Then, without further hesitation, he leans into you, kissing you with a passion that hides neither fear nor shame. You let him melt in your mouth, his lips molding yours with a voracious calm, taking the lead in the kiss as he always does, guiding each movement with overwhelming confidence as two of his fingers massage your clit through your soaked panties.

The kiss is sloppy and a little messy, unhurried, but with the precise intensity that anticipates what is to come. His tongue brushes yours in an intimate dance, and the murmur of the fan, along with the everyday noises of his apartment, fade away, drowned out by your moans and his. Gently, he lays you down on the mattress, where the only sound is the rustling of the sheets as they become disheveled.

Isagi pauses for a moment observing the way the edge of your shirt along with your skirt rises above your thighs, exposing the pink lingerie you are wearing. The fabric is barely tangled at your navel, and with a slight smile, he leans down to kiss one of your calves.

“Cute,” he murmurs, his lips still pressed to your skin. You, biting your lip, try to hide a teasing smile. “Are you sure?” he asks you, his eyes searching for some shadow of doubt on your face.

You nod confirming to him that you don't feel like backing out, letting out an eager sigh that fills your lungs. He leans over to the bedside table, looking for something in one of the drawers. Finally, he pulls out a small bottle of oil and drops a generous amount into his hands, rubbing them together to warm it before he begins massaging your thighs. His thumbs press and glide close to your core, brushing against the line of your panties without actually touching you creating that aching anticipation.

“Feels good...” you murmur, letting your hips rise instinctively, seeking more of that delicious pressure.

“Yeah? I can tell. You're soaking your panties, baby.”

Before you can say anything, Isagi moves with an agility that takes you by surprise. In a single, fluid motion, his shirt drops to the floor, quickly followed by his shorts. The sight of his worked torso and him covered only by tight boxers takes your breath away, making any coherent thoughts instantly disappear. It's not the first time you've seen him like this, but it's the first time he's done it while on top of you.

With a fresh portion of oil that he drops into his hand, he slides the liquid down his cock, droplets that he will later take care of wiping slip down to the sheets, and then he takes your thighs and squeezes them together, creating a perfect space to slide between them.

A deep, pleasure-laden growl escapes his lips as he leans forward, resting his forehead on your knees, his warm breath coursing across your skin. You feel the firm, steady pressure of his movements, the rush of his thrusts sliding you subtly over the surface of the mattress. Your feet rest flat against his chest, and the position only intensifies every sensation that passes through your body. The sound of the oil mixed with the rhythm of his strokes fills the room with a rhythmic, intoxicating gush.

It is exquisite to see Isagi lost in this ecstasy, his thrusts are slow and deep giving you a glimpse of the pink tip of his cock peeking between your thighs. He is completely absorbed in you. Deep, halting moans escape his lips with increasing frequency, and he keeps his intense, clouded gaze fixed intently on you. His eyes seem to search for every detail that tells him you're enjoying this too as he lifts his face, and the dark locks of his messy hair over his forehead give him an almost primal look. Every sign on him, from the tremor in his shoulders to the firmness with which he holds you, is a clear warning of how close he is to his limit.

Isagi adjusts you carefully, bending your knees so that every push of his cock rubs not only against the pressure of your thighs, but also against the soggy softness of your panties. The reddened, sensitive tip of his dick brushes the bud of your clit with every movement, further igniting the gasps that escape you, where his name slips on every exhale and his chest swells with raw pride.

“You're so pretty. Such a pretty girl, letting me fuck your thighs like this, ugh? Attagirl. My good girl.” The words, spoken in a low, almost reverent tone, sweep over you like a caress and light up your face, at the same time your thighs instinctively clench around him, earning a groan of approval from Isagi.

Eager to intensify the bond between the two of you, you lift up your shirt until your breasts, barely covered by a light pink bra that stands out against your skin, are in full view. The semi-transparent fabric reveals your hardened nipples that make Isagi's mouth water, and as you begin to caress them, tugging at them, Isagi's eyes glisten with desire as he curses between clenched teeth.

"You think you can cum like this? With my cock rubbing against your covered pussy, hm?”

“I-,” you gasp, tugging a little harder on your nipples as you imagine it's his fingers doing it. “I can try,” you whisper, feeling the arousal slide between your pussy lips with each rub.

The tension grows in your abdomen with every second, every caress and every word from him, like a spiral that pulls you mercilessly. “I think... I'm gonna cum,” you confess between ragged breaths.

“Do it, please. I can't cum without you cumming first.” Isagi pauses for just a moment, releasing your numb thighs to push your panties aside and reveal the trail of desire he left in you. Without wasting time, his fingers find your clit and caress it with precision, moving from side to side, causing you to arch your back, lifting you into his caresses. ”C'mon, baby. Give it to me, pretty please.”

His words, soft and possessive, are the last spark you need, and in a burst of pleasure you cover your face with your hands, trying to silence the scream escaping your throat as your thighs tremble uncontrollably under the intensity of your orgasm. He responds with tender kisses, covering every corner of your skin within his reach as he stops assaulting your sensitive clit to then massage your skin.

He pulls you to him, kissing you with a mixture of tenderness and passion. As his lips play with yours, your hand finds his cock, still throbbing, ready and warm against your belly. Without hesitation, you begin to jerk him off with steady rhythm, catching his moans and whispers on your tongue, until finally his release comes. With a deep shudder, his orgasm explodes, leaving a string of heavy white ropes painting your tummy.

Between deep breaths, you both share one last complicit giggle before Isagi drops down beside you. Small beads of sweat cover his temples and chest.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek gently. His blue eyes fixed on yours, trapping you in that ocean.

Biting your lip, you nod. “Let's do it again,” you whisper with a playful giggle. “Next time, I want you inside.”

Isagi holds his breath for a moment, taken aback by the audacity of your words. But excitement quickly replaces any hint of nerves, and in one swift movement, he positions himself on top of you again, making you chuckle with his enthusiasm.

“Are you ready again already?” he joins in as an accomplice to your laughter, with a playful glint in his eyes.

“And you're not?” he murmurs, hiding in the line of your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses leading down to your neck.

“First, water and a movie,” you propose, stroking his hair and the action instantly makes him purr. “I wanna cuddle with you.”

“Anything else you're craving?” he asks, pulling away a little with a silly grin, completely uninhibited.

“A massage would be nice, you left me a little sore.”

Isagi nods, with obvious kindness. “I'm gonna order something sweet for the both of us too; I'm very hungry all of a sudden.”

Just as he gets ready to get up in search of his phone, you stop him, intertwining your fingers with his and gently catching his attention. Isagi looks at you intently, expectantly.

“I love you,” you whisper, and the raw sincerity in your words makes the moment go on forever, making it another memory Isagi will cling to when he's away from home.

He smiles at you, the sparkle in his eyes intensifying. “I love you more,” he replies, gently squeezing your hand.

#wr #wr.isagi #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi smut #isagi smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

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cr: @ave661

Simon wasn't a stupid man. He always knew better, knew to look between the lines even when you tried your best to be deceiving. Even then, the pure rejection you showed to your newborn baby was something not even the best actress could hide. Refusing to hold her after she was born and fully shutting down on Simon, screaming at him whenever he tried to offer any sort of help and support, only getting worse if he ever tried to approach you while holding the baby.

Post-partum depression is no joke, Simon realized after doing his own research, only then realizing just how bad it can get after accidentally stumbling on article upon article of mothers getting to the point of harming their own child. You weren't like that— Simon liked to convince himself despite the growing pit of dread in his stomach, anxiety seeping out of every pore of his body when even months later you refused to hold or interact with the baby.

It all came crashing down after he came back from deployment, the nanny holding his daughter while soothing her with calm words, doing her best to console the crying infant despite the tears falling down her cheeks when she confessed to him that you're gone.

Gone without a trace, at first. Simon wasted no time using his connections to know where you were. Laswell was the most helpful, giving him all the details of the help center you were in, yet even then, Simon didn't reach out first in fear of messing up your progress, not wanting to add more stress to your situation when you were trying to get better.

Four years. For four years, Simon's life was divided in deployments and taking care of his daughter at home, never once thinking about moving on, always asking Laswell for updates— updates she was glad to give him using her own connections, wanting to give Simon some peace of mind even if it went against the rules.

“It's okay.” Simon reassured his daughter, his long sleeves wet with cola that she spilled from her little cup. His home was the complete opposite of the absolute hell he grew up in, not allowing himself to scream, hit, or take out his frustration on the little carbon copy of himself sitting on the couch.

“'M sorry, daddy.” Her sweet voice made the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head, taking off his sweater and putting it away, wasting no time on grabbing a towel to clean up the now sticky mess of coke on the table.

“It's okay, love. Jus' don't tip it, 's gonna spill.” She gave him a small salute in understanding, a cheeky grin on her lips when she saw him holding in his laughter, knowing fully well she's copying him— as usual.

The doorbell ringing got Simon's full attention, giving his daughter one last look before he went to answer. His eyes widened slightly the moment he saw your shorter figure waiting for him, purposely making yourself smaller like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, a small folder held in your hands. You're both quiet for what seems like forever, the only sounds coming from your daughter in the living room, the TV displaying a kid's show Simon put on.

“I'm so so—” You don't even have the chance to finish your sentence before you're being pulled into a tight hug, Simon's burly arms wrapping around your body, every single second spent missing you, secretly hoping you'd come back one day crashes down on him the moment he feels your arms wrap around his waist, holding him as tight as possible, as if he'd disappear if you don't hold onto him for dear life.

“I got better.” You whisper into his ear, rubbing his back soothingly when he doesn't let go of you. Not yet— not when the love of his life is finally back after years. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder before his face goes back to burying in the crook of your neck, taking in the familiar scent.

It takes minutes for Simon to finally let go, hesitation clear in his actions as he looked down at you, keeping one hand on your waist in silent fear of you seeping through his fingers. The folder in your hand gets his attention, giving you a questioning look before you offer it to him, managing to give him a small smile of reassurance despite all the anxiety and fear.

“My psychotherapist wrote it. It's... just a paper that shows the progress I've made from her perspective.” You stand awkwardly as he reads the document, taking in every single word written by the woman who has been helping your for four long years. You can hear your daughter giggling at the TV show, only making the anxiety in your stomach grow more by the second.

To your surprise, Simon steps out of the way to allow you into the home he created, his safe haven. Nothing changed from the last time you were here, other than toys scattered all over the place, likely from Simon being too busy bonding with his daughter to even clean.

You can see the little girl sitting on the couch as you walk closer, her brown eyes fully focused on the screen until she hears something from behind her. She's so much bigger now, looking like a tiny carbon copy of Simon, down to the little skull-patterned pajamas she was wearing.

She turns around after seeing you from the corner of her eye, her little face lighting up into a toothy grin as she jumps from the couch, sprinting towards you as fast as her little legs allow her to.

“Mommy!” You crouch down to her height out of pure instinct, almost being knocked off balance when she crashes into you, her tiny arms wrapping around your neck. The fact that Simon never stopped talking about you to her and kept your pictures warms your heart, being as delicate as possible as you hug her back.

“Y'look so pretty.” She has Simon's accent, making you let out a small laugh before looking down at her, cupping her cheek just to examine her features better.

“Thank you, sweet girl.” You're glad for the way she cuddles up to you again, not bothering to hide the tears falling down your cheeks at the sheer love displayed by the same girl you left four years ago. Your gaze drifts up to Simon, whose eyes are glossier than usual despite the fact that he's not shedding a tear. He gives you a small nod in acknowledgement, not daring to look away from the heartwarming scene in front of him.

“Daddy talks a lot about you.” She whispers into your ear, covering her mouth as if she's telling you the biggest secret ever. You giggle at the little gossiper, your warm hand running up and down the length of her hair.

“He does?” You whisper back, giving Simon a cheeky look at the admission, one of his thin eyebrows raising when he sees your daughter nod her head vigorously, giggling as she looks at Simon.

“Well, I'm sure he talks a lot about you too.” The pure forgiveness that comes from both of them drowns the guilt, if only for a short while.

“You're such a pretty princess.” Your arms wrap around her again, rocking her softly from side to side, allowing yourself to take in their love. It doesn't take long for Simon's resolve to falter, dropping to his knees and wrapping his burly arms around his girls protectively, planting a little kiss on your forehead.

Despite everything, there's no one else he'd rather spend the rest of his life with.

Dad!Ghost Masterlist

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bl-inded · 1 month ago

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You know what really hurts about Faifa. His care is genuine. No matter how many people the attention is divided towards, it always comes from a genuine place. But the issue with people that have such a bright light about them is that it is very easy to dismiss their care because it's not special. He smiles to freely, cares too casually, offers help too easily so it's taken for granted.

"This is just the way he is" is so commonly thrown around like it's a bad thing even in the show. Like being a caring person in this horrible horrible world is not the hardest thing to do. And so when everyone says "he doesn't know how to love", it seems even Faifa believes it, like he's also not being genuine somehow.

You cannot ever convince me Faifa doesn't know how to love when he actively tries to be the one positive person in everyone's life. He makes sure that no matter what is going on in their life and how unacceptable they feel they know that they are loved. Whatever Faifa's intentions, he's the guy that asks if they're okay, if they need anything and does it for them, and that matters.

But they dismiss all of it- because "that's just how he is". Like it doesn't take active effort to notice people and make them feel seen and appreciated. They think it comes naturally to him- like this wasn't a skill that trauma probably taught him, because they don't care to learn more. It makes me mad for him!

Yotha is so shocked that Fa needed advice from his dad about people because Faifa had to grow up so fast that he hasn't had to ask for advice before!! He thought Fa had to be the one who's heart was broken.

Funny thing is. It's been broken for a while. His mother abandoned him. That's the kind of heart break no kid ever gets over. Fa didn't even get a chance to be angry about it. (Funnier thing is if you think your brother is heartbroken, Yotha, why tf aren't you doing something about it?? You know damn well he would.)

And this is obviously going to be the central conflict of the FaifaWine love story, right? When your light shines so bright no one will ever truly believe they are special. Despite Fa being clear as day about the way Wine makes him feel, he's still going to offer himself as a rebound - a practice run- until ig Tor comes back into Wine's life.

Faifa will fight for everyone except himself. So I don't think he'll fight to have Wine, i think he'll fight for Wine to be happy even at the cost of his own happiness. That comes from a genuine place too. And it's going to be so heartbreaking to watch.

And Wine runs away from all his problems. So he isn't going to confront Faifa to explain his feelings. He's going to be stuck in the dark believing he's just another person who gets to be in Faifa's aura receiving all his kindness. BUT IT IS GENUINE AND WINE IS SPECIAL. The question is, how is Faifa supposed to convince him of that?

They are so perfect for each other. They need each other. But they are also going to be in their own way.

#perfect 10 liners #why do i have so many feelings about faifa #fuck if i know #but hes been here rent free for a while #i feel like if i dont get the catharsis of someone being mad on faifa's behalf or actually see him in this arc imma riot #thai bl meta #thai bl #gmmtv #faifawine #faifa p10l #wine p10l #juniormark #junior panachai #p10l #perfect 10 liners the series #bl rants #bl meta

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thekinslayed · 11 months ago

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Lovely As Can Be

summary | Your path crosses with Osferth's once more, who has blossomed into a different man from the last time you saw him. (based on this request.)

pairing | osferth x maid!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, public sex, grinding, osferth's not a virgin in this one Lord, fluff (lots of it), sharing an orange is a love language

wordcount | 6.5k

song rec | Would That I - Hozier

note | surprise surprise! here's something with our baby monk (who is looking super fine in that gif)! a certain scene was inspired by ophelia (2018), can you spot which one? :D

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

You had been helping the young maids put up the freshly washed linens to dry when you were informed of the arrival of some guests. Wiping your wet hands on your apron, you left the girls to welcome the travelers who were to stay in Mildrith’s inn. Passing by some of the other help scurrying around, you keep an eye on their tasks, giving out instructions when you catch something that would not pass your madam’s standards.

An amused scoff left your lips when you reached the front of the house, a familiar group of warriors awaiting you with enthusiastic grins. Uhtred called out your name, greeting you warmly.

“Ah, King Edward’s dashing knights,” you jested, greeting them all with a smile and a nod.

You were only a girl when you first received the pleasure of meeting Uhtred and his group of warriors. Freshly sixteen, Mildrith had taken you under her wing to work as a maid in her husband’s inn. It was the biggest in town and was frequented by most travelers when traveling south, hence the constant need for help within the establishment. In the first months of your position, you had spent many an hour scrubbing floors, cleaning out bed pans, and pouring mead for guests.

It was a couple of months after your assignment that the arrival of the arguably infamous Uhtred of Bebbanburg sparked much excitement within the town, especially in Mildrith’s inn where they were sure to be staying. You watched, wide-eyed, as the Dane and his group strolled through the establishment, carrying such a commanding presence that everyone had stopped to look at them. Behind the group, you noticed a lanky figure trailing behind them, swathed in holy robes, appearing smaller than the rest despite being the tallest.

‘A Christian monk travels with Danes, how odd,’ you thought then.

You remembered his blue eyes, always wide like a frightened doe. It was clear he was barely a warrior, freshly taken under Uhtred’s wing, but you had treated him with no less respect than you did the older men.

He was a boy back then, and now, standing before you, was a man; Osferth was now a seasoned warrior like the rest of them. When his back used to be hunched in insecurity, he now stood tall, chest proud.

“Look at you, baby monk, looks like you’ve grown some hair on your chest," you commented, hand propping up on your hip. His build now filled out the robes nicely, shapely muscles filling in the loose crevices of the garment.

“Ah, he’s grown them alright, even more down his–” Finan began, but a slap on his shoulder from the king’s bastard had him cutting his words short, bellowing in laughter.

“Very nice to see you again, my lady,” Osferth greeted sweetly, giving you a slight nod.

“Sweet as ever,” you cooed, turning to the other men, “unlike some of ya!”

They opened their mouth to protest, but you quickly led them into the inn, ignoring their complaints of faux offense. You led the men to a long table in the dining area, where the afternoon meals were beginning to be served. The group of warriors sat down, weary and starved from their long journey. You called a younger maid to fetch some mead for the guests, before bringing over some bread and stew.

“Looks like Mildrith has you ordering people around now, eh? No more scrubbing floors for you then?” Uhtred mentioned, making you chuckle while pouring the liquor into their cups.

“She has me watch over the newcomers, especially the clumsy ones, but aye, I earned my right to not be cleaning chamberpots now, my lord,” you responded, placing the jug of mead back onto the table. “Doesn’t mean I don’t get my hands dirty now and then!”

You took a seat beside Sihtric when he scooted over for you, urging you to sit with them. There was a reprieve from the ache in your heels, joints relaxing in relief after long hours of being on your feet. You asked the men about their journey, listening in awe at all the battles they fought and the lands they traversed since you last saw them.

“And they hung us upside down from a tree! I mean seriously, they could have just tied us to a trunk and be over with it, but no, they had to dangle us like some roasted pigs!” Finan exclaimed, hands waving wildly at his retelling. A laugh bubbled from your chest, mixing with the deeper chuckles echoing from the table.

Behind you, some stable boys had passed by in search of some mead to cool off after hours in the hot midsummer sun. Spotting a familiar head of dark hair, Uhtred points to Eadric, turning to you.

“Isn’t that…? Call him over, I want to know if he is keeping you happy as a married woman!” He exclaimed in sincerity. Confused, you turned around to who he was pointing at, before pulling down his extended arm before he could call Eadric over.

“Keep it down,” you said in haste, the smile on your face dropping. All four men looked at you in confused concern, looking at you as your gaze dropped to your lap.

“I am not a married woman. Eadric and I, we did not…” you trailed off, shaking your head lightly.

“What?” Uhtred asked in bewilderment, gaze flickering to your former lover who had walked away to return to the stables. “But you both had been so eager to marry!”

“I know, I know. He, uh, he had a change of heart,” you explained, rubbing the back of your neck. They all looked at you in pity, so you plastered a rueful smile on your face, waving it off.

“Tis no matter, we were young, and we were foolish. I-I’ve moved past it, really,” you reassured them.

“If you need us to do anything, just say the word,” Uhtred said, earning a nod from the rest of the group.

“Aye, Sihtric is quite skilled at making things look like an accident,” Finan said lowly, making you giggle as the Dane nodded eagerly. Osferth sat silently, watching the light in your eyes dim at the turn of the conversation.

“Thank you, but there is no need,” you said gratefully. With a deep sigh, you rose from the bench and smoothed out your skirts. “Well, I shall go see that your rooms are ready, and if there is anything you need, you know where to find me,” you told them, before leaving them to their meals. You were unaware of a pair of icy blue eyes following your retreating form as you walked away, busying yourself with your tasks once more.

Before dusk had begun to settle into the horizon, Mildrith had sent you off to gather some greens for supper from the market. You had hurried to old Hilda’s shop, filling your large basket with greens for the stew as well as some potatoes and grain. You all but waddled back to the inn, balancing the heavy basket on your hip, willing yourself not to drop anything into the damp earth on your way back.

“My lady!” A familiar voice called out behind you, making you stop in your tracks. You lifted the basket higher on your hip, keeping a firm hand on the wooden carrier to prevent it from sliding down further. Osferth rushed to you, taking the heavy basket from your hands.

“Let me, please.”

“I do not wish to burden a great warrior with a task so little, Osferth,” you tried to reason, but the monk had already lifted the weight with ease. He smiled at you, shaking his head.

“No great warrior would deny a lady his aid when she needs it, he would be less of a man if he did so,” he explained, walking beside you back to the inn. An amused smile lifted on your lips, turning to look at the taller man beside you. Your eyes studied the shadows the setting sun cast upon his face, now more structured and manly than you had last seen him. The plumpness of youth had melted and given way to a sculptured jaw, an aquiline nose, and pursing lips. His bright blue eyes once shone with exuberant wonder and apprehension now reflected a more mature wisdom. He carried himself with an air of confidence you had never seen in him before, one that belonged to a man who was sure of himself.

Catching your gaze on him, Osferth turned to you, raising his eyebrows in question. Your cheeks flushed at being caught in the act, your lips lifting into a shy smile.

“You seem so different now than when we last saw each other,” you said. The monk’s eyes caught the way you slightly bit your lip, watching how the plump flesh reddened at the contact.

“Different in what way, my lady?” Osferth asked.

“You seem stronger. More confident,” you told him, trying to pick the right words to describe the change you have seen in him. “Like there is a fire burning within you.”

A smile touched Osferth’s lips as he glanced at you, the corners of his lips curling upwards. Your eyes meet his icy blues, his dirty blonde tresses appearing much darker in the dimming sunlight. A hum left the monk’s lips, keeping his eyes on yours for a moment longer before returning to the road.

“I suppose I have,” he agreed. Osferth’s longer legs made for bigger strides, and the taller man shortened his steps when he noticed how fast you had to walk to keep up with him. He turned his head to look at you once more, “though I suppose I could say the same thing about you, my lady.”

His gaze roamed over your features, taking in your flushed cheeks, the rosy pink of your lips. Surprise sparked in your orbs, making him chuckle when you turned to him.

"You have grown more beautiful," his tone was matter-of-fact, like he was stating a simple truth. The words made your heart flutter, the breath catching in your throat for a moment. You had never been one to be bestowed such compliments, thus making the smallest of praises leaving you flustered. Osferth's eyes twinkled as he continued to stare at you, enjoying the way he seemed to make you flustered in his presence. "You have a certain glow about you, my lady. Like the warm touch of the sun on a summer's day.”

“My, it seems you have become a warrior and a poet,” you jested, earning a chuckle from the man beside you.

As you neared the inn, young Ida had passed by the pair of you, carrying dried linens. You did not miss the way her eyes caught Osferth’s, the man beside you smiling at her. The young maid immediately blushed, ducking her head as she walked by. His gaze followed her passing form, craning his head back as she passed. You ignored the strange feeling in your chest at the sight, returning your eyes to the muddy road.

“I am certain Uhtred and the others had you meeting all kinds of girls around the land, seeing as you are now quite the charmer,” you teased Osferth, bumping your elbow into his. The young monk made a grunt of amusement, turning back to you. It had gone unnoticed by you when he had begun to walk much closer by your side, the back of his hand brushing against the back of yours with the sway of your arms.

“You think I am charming?” He arched a brow at you, a playful tone coloring his voice. You rolled your eyes as he spun your own words back at you, chuckling as the bastard nudged your elbow in return.

“Oh dear, I fear all that time on the road has taught you all the wrong things,” you said, letting out a comical sigh that made Osferth laugh. As both of you reached the inn, you gestured for the warrior monk to hand you the basket, but he refused, telling you he shall take it to the kitchens for you, ever the chivalrous gentleman. You led him through to the bustling kitchens, busy in preparation for supper, where he had dropped the basket. Many words of thanks left your lips at his gracious assistance in hauling the heavy load of produce around for you.

“It is no trouble, my lady,” Osferth waved off. Looking around the area, you subtly reached into the basket, pulling out an orange to give to the taller man. You had secretly bought it for yourself, splurging on a treat you had not seen in ages. You handed it to Osferth, who looked equally in surprise.

“Where did you get this?” He asked, eyes wide at the side of the bright fruit. He took it into his larger hand, lifting it to his nose to smell the sweet scent of its zest, his lips letting out a delighted sigh.

“This was the last one Hilda had, and I just couldn’t help myself,” you said sheepishly. “You can have it, Osferth, for helping me with this.”

“Oh no, I cannot, my lady! ‘Tis yours!” Osferth exclaimed, handing the round fruit back into your hands. You shook your head, pressing it back into his grasp.

“No, please! It is no matter, I am sure she shall have some again. ‘Tis summer after all, and the season brings much fruit into our harvest,” you explained, earning a sigh from the young warrior. You gave him a small smile, placing your hand atop his larger one. “I doubt you can find these on the road anywhere else.”

“Thank you, my lady, you are most gracious,” Osferth expressed, giving you a sincere smile. You stared up at his blue orbs, the corner of your lips lifting into a smile of your own. A strange warmth spread across your chest, making you feel coquettish and timid as the blonde towered over you. The tips of your shoes were a hair inch away from the tips of his boots, his warmth engulfing your entire being. At this distance, you had a direct view of the cleft of his nose, and the way his pupils changed in diameter as he gazed at you.

You were broken away from your trance by the sharp voice of Mildrith, calling you over. Your feet took a small step away from Osferth, clearing your throat. The young warrior sniffled, looking at his shoes and rubbing the back of his neck.

“I should go, Osferth,” you said, giving him an apologetic look. He nodded in understanding giving you a small smile.

“Of course, I shall see you at supper, then?” He asked, to which you nodded. You watched as the young monk walked out of the kitchen, pocketing the orange you had given him. You couldn’t help the way your lips lifted higher, a girlish chuckle leaving your lips when he gave you one last look before disappearing down the hall, shooting you a roguish smirk.

“Oi! What are ya gigglin’ over there for? Get a move on, missy!” Mildrith scolded, making you jump. You squeaked out a small apology, bowing your head when you passed by her to get on with your work, unaware of the way the mistress of the house shook her head at you in amusement, a small smile breaking out on her own lips.

One thing that attracted the numerous guests to the inn was the suppers. They were always boisterous, rowdy, and filled with music and chatter. Even the townspeople spend their nights at the inn, making the establishment somewhat akin to an alehouse with the drinks that flowed and the laughs that echoed through the room. Tonight was no different, the common hall was packed with guests and local folks alike, and chatter bustled through the air as you maneuvered around the room, refilling cups of ale with the jug in your hand. You greeted your regulars, ignored the advances of some that already had one too many cups of liquor, and kept your eye out on anything else your guests might need. You checked on the younger maids walking around, guiding the ones who were a bit unsure of what to do. When you had first started at the inn, working the suppers intimated you, with your timid nature and clumsy hands. The overlapping noises left you rattled, coupled with the growing rowdiness as the night went on. As you gained more experience and became one of Mildrith’s most trustworthy workers, you took it upon yourself to look out for the newcomers, treating them kindly instead of punishing them for every slip-up they made.

You had quickly exchanged your empty jug for a fresh one at the kitchens before walking back into the hall once more. You heard a voice call you over, turning to Finan who was waving you to their table. As you approached, you spotted the women sitting beside each one of them. You recognized them from the brothel a few doors over, a frequent presence during nights like these in your establishment. It was no surprise that Uhtred and his men had found their companions for the night so quickly, their reputations certainly bearing no lie about their proclivities. Your eyes flickered to where Osferth sat with his arm around a young brunette’s shoulders. You caught the way her fingers toyed with the cross pendant around his neck, leaning into the long expanse of his neck. The corners of your lips dipped slightly at the sight, a strange twinge in your belly. You caught yourself before anyone could notice, plastering a wide smile on your face.

“Enjoying the night, boys?” you asked the table, refilling their cups.

“Aye, good to not be shitting in the woods for once!” Sihtric exclaimed, earning laughs and cheers from his companions. Osferth sat silently, observing the way you rounded their table. He tried to catch your eye, but you seemed to be focused on the jug you held in your hand as you poured ale.

“Why don’t you come sit with us for a while? You are working too hard!” Uhtred urged, to which you only gave a smile.

“Tempting, my lord, but my madam would not be too happy. It is quite a busy night after all,” you said, earning disappointed groans from Finan and Sihtric. You shook your head at their antics, before excusing yourself. For a brief moment, your eyes meet Osferth’s, who had been staring at you the whole time. You gave him a small smile and a nod, before walking away, letting out a sigh as the corner of your lips dropped.

You stood by a pillar, leaning on your weight on the wood while watching the crowd. A man had stood on top of one of the tables, strumming his lute while the guests sang along. In the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar figure approaching the other side of the column, mirroring your position.

“Alright?” He asked, shooting you a concerned look. Another sigh left your lips, keeping your eyes on the lute player, feeling his gaze on the side of your cheek.

“M’fine, Eadric,” you said with indifference. Neither of you spoke for a moment, letting the echoes of the singing crowd fill the space between you.

“Mm, I know you. I can still read you well, you know, despite how we stand now,” he expressed, a somber tinge in his tone. A scoff left your lips, shaking your head at him slightly.

“Well, considering you can hardly read a few words on a scroll of parchment, I think it best if you stop fretting about me.”

“I will have you know I am capable of discerning whole sentences now, by year’s end perhaps I will be able to read you a sonnet to win your heart once more!” A laugh left your lips at his words, bubbling out before you could swallow them down. Your former lover looked satisfied with successfully getting a reaction out of you, smiling as your cheekbones lifted.

From his place at their table, a young warrior monk watched you and your former husband-to-be. The brunette beside him had been whispering nonsense into his ear, yet he paid her no mind, keeping his attention on you and the way you turned to Eadric, leaning to say something into his ear over the crowd’s noise.

As the night grew darker and the jugs of ale turned empty, you stayed on your feet, cleaning up in the kitchens away from the ruckus, alone. No Eadric, no Osferth, no grimy hand of a drunkard to grab you close. This was your favorite part of the night, to be granted a moment’s reprieve from the chaotic bustle of your days. It was peaceful to have a moment alone with your thoughts like a soft howl of wind on a dark night. Your hands worked mindlessly to scrub the dirty dishware while you let your mind run loose. There was little room for one’s thoughts in a position like yours. The days would often feel autonomic— clean off the linens in the morning, be in the kitchens by noon, and pour ale for the guests in the evening. The surprise of welcoming old friends like Uhtred, Finan, and Sihtric was a pleasant deviation from your otherwise monotonous life.

And dear Osferth. You supposed you had always been quite partial to him among the rest, you were close in age and personality, or at least you were. Where you were timid, Osferth was equally as shy, yet now, he had blossomed into something greater, forging his name into history, all the while you had remained a closed bud still rooted to the soil you had been planted in. As much as you missed the clumsy, doe-eyed baby monk, the warrior sat in your madam’s hall had as much power to render you weak as he did to wield a sword. To be under his gaze had you blushing like a young maiden, and he a dashing knight.

You shook your head, snapping out of your reverie. Osferth had seen many things and met countless faces, surely you did not hold a light to the girls that had come his way. It was no use to be feeling this way, not when he was to leave by the moon’s turn, not when you shall be left alone once more.

Dawn had barely broken through the horizon when you had risen from your cot, stretching your aching limbs with a groan. You had slept for barely three hours, but your body had grown accustomed to your early mornings, often rousing from your slumber with the sun’s rise. The air held a slight prickle of humidity during the summer, giving you no need for furs and a fire during the night. The rest of the inn laid fast asleep, and with the few more moments left to your own, you gathered a clean set of clothes, taking silent steps across the creaking floorboards to step out. The smell of the earth was refreshing, coupled with the morning dew that sprinkled the green grass. It was quiet, save for the howls of mourning doves that echoed through the trees. Humming an old tune to yourself, you made your way to the lake past the thick of the woods, placing your clean clothes on the ground before shrugging off your dress. Clad in only your thin cotton shift, your bare feet padded on the soft soil to approach the lake’s edge. You dipped a toe in, testing its temperature, before stepping down the shallow surface. The water held a slight bite of cold, just how you liked it. You took careful steps across the soft earth, the water rising higher up to your waist. You bent your knees to fully submerge yourself into the cool water, staying underwater for a moment, before breaking the surface to catch your breath. The water felt wonderful on your skin, even more so as it soaked your hair clean of yesterday’s muck. You bathed peacefully in the lake, scrubbing on your scalp and swimming across the water. You allowed yourself to settle, granting yourself a moment of calm before another busy day. Your eyes closed as you let yourself float on the water’s surface, humming to yourself once more.

The quiet peace of your morning was disrupted when you heard the first sounds of approaching footsteps. Alerted, you returned to your feet, looking around for the source. You had no place to hide, not when you were right in the middle of the forest’s clearing. You spotted a large rock situated against the lake’s edge, covered by tall, wispy grass, prompting you to quickly swim towards the stone and lean against it in hopes of hiding your bareness. Through the grass, you spotted a pair of boots approaching where your clothes had been placed, giving away your presence.

“My, a magnificent fish has come to shore!” A familiar voice called out, echoing through the air. Warily, you poked your head out to catch a glimpse of the intruder, only to find the warrior monk. You felt a relief to be discovered by Osferth rather than a stranger, your lips lifting into a small smile as you regarded him.

“Are you here to fish my lord?” you played along, feigning innocent curiosity. You crossed your arms over your shoulders to cover your chest as you stepped away from the rock, revealing yourself to the royal bastard. It seemed he had awakened not too long ago either, evident from his blonde tresses that were slightly ruffled. His feet took steps closer to the lake’s edge, while his hands crossed behind his back. He flashed you a lopsided grin at your query, shaking his head lightly.

“No, no. Though I am a warrior and have traversed these lands and back, I have no skill for the waters. Perhaps the fish will allow me to admire its beautiful scales instead?” he asked, blue eyes raking over your wet form. You bit your lip as he stared at you, cheeks warming despite the cool air. Stiff buds poked against the wet fabric of your shift, still covered by your arms.

“There are far more handsome fish around here, perhaps you may find some better use of your time with them,” you suggested, making the warrior monk’s thin lips twisted at your words.

“I would rather not, I find this one particularly breathtaking,” he said, looking at you with a gaze that made your skin tingle. Your mind raced with uncertainty, while your skin burned with desire. To be graced with Osferth's magnetic presence had ignited a deep pulsating ache within you, one not easily stoked by any man. Under the morning sun, you gazed upon his face. He was handsome, very much so. The royal blood in his veins graced him with a beauty higher than that of any common man, but all his rugged edges were all thanks to his time as a warrior walking with Danes. You desired him, and now, he stood before you, all yours for the taking.

You looked around, making sure there was no one else in your surroundings, before uncrossing your arms and standing tall, baring your chest to his eye, pathetically covered by the now translucent fabric of your wet shift.

“These waters can get quite lonesome for a fish like I. Perhaps my lord would like to join me?”

You visibly gulped as Osferth shamelessly stared at your breasts, waiting with bated breath for his next move. Keeping his eyes on yours, the warrior monk disrobed. He had been without his cuirass, only his robes and breeches. Piece by piece, Osferth’s pale flesh became exposed to your watchful eye. He had placed his robes neatly beside yours, before removing his boots and unlacing his breeches. A small gasp left your lips when he pulled his trousers off, standing tall with his gradually hardening cock on display. An amused huff left the monk’s lips at the way your eyes were stuck on his length, chest puffing proudly under your gaze. He was well-endowed, this he knew, it was what garnered attention from all those women after all. His long, muscled legs approached the edge, cock swaying with every step forward. A warmth in your belly grew as the young warrior dipped into the water, prickling your skin as his eyes stayed on yours the whole time. Your chin tilted upwards as he towered before you, the difference in your heights making you feel covered in his shadow, protected.

“I trust you had a pleasant evening?” you asked, voice dropping low with the change in proximity. Osferth hummed, giving you a small nod.

“Yes, though I admit, it would have been much better if it had been spent with your presence beside me,” Osferth said. His warm breath fanned across your face, the heat of his flesh radiating against yours, causing a shiver to run up your spine. His orbs flickered across your features for a moment, his hand hovering above your arm, yet not touching you. The corners of your lips shifted into a downward smile at his words.

“My apologies, my duties prevented me from doing so. Though it seemed the seat by your side had been occupied. Either way, you had splendid company, only the best in town for the King’s warriors,” you replied softly. He shook his head slightly at you, sniffling lightly.

“It was not her company I sought.”

His large hand covered the width of your arm, pulling you closer into his space. Your hands placed themselves on his chest upon instinct, while his slithered around your waist. His aquiline nose dipped into the skin of your cheek, breathing in the scent of your flesh. Your eyes fluttered close upon the contact, your heart thumping at the feeling of a growing stiffness poking against your thigh.

“How did you know where to find me?” you whispered in his ear.

“I had stepped out for air after my morning prayers. It was then I caught a glimpse of you, walking into the woods,” he explained, lifting his head to look at you. Your fingers trailed against the edge of his jaw, feeling the small prickling of his lightly growing stubble beneath your fingertips.

“You followed me?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him. A sheepish smile formed on his thin lips, while yours lifted in amusement.

“Tis not safe for a lady to be alone in these woods,” he reasoned, tone light and almost playful. He furrowed his eyebrows in mock concern, shaking his head lightly. A chuckle left your lips, reverberating against Osferth’s chest.

“I know these woods better than you, Osferth,” you replied, to which he only shrugged. “Did the Lord speak to you in your prayers, leading you to me?”

“Aye,” he nodded. His hands squeezed the softness of your arms, before drifting down to settle on your waist. “He all but called me a fool, for letting a beautiful lady walk away from my midst without showing my affections.”

“I am no lady.”

“You can be my lady if you will it so,” he said. Osferth’s calloused hands cupped the sides of your face, keeping your eyes on him.

"You have met the most beautiful ladies in the land, and you will meet more. I am but a simple maid, why me?" you questioned, voice dropping to a whisper. A wistful sigh left his chest, thumbs caressing the plump flesh of your cheek.

"A flower may bloom in the most ordinary of gardens," he whispered softly, his voice carrying the weight of genuine fondness. "And yet, it is that very simplicity that makes its beauty all the more extraordinary."

His head dipped close to yours, your lips just a hair's breadth apart from his. "You have always enraptured me, from the moment I had first stepped into your midst," he confessed.

“Do you jest?” You asked, searching for any sign of any sign of insincerity; you found none.

“I do not jest about matters of the heart,” he whispered, leaning his face closer to yours. You couldn’t help the way your eyes fluttered shut when his nose nudged against yours. His lips pressed a kiss against one cheek, then the other, almost in reverence. Your hands on his chest slithered up to wrap around his neck, pressing yourself further into his build. Your foreheads pressed together, basking in its each other’s warmth for a moment before Osferth leaned forward to capture your lips in his. A gasp left you in surprise, though you had quickly softened into his arms. You had let him lead you in pace, clearly having less experience than the well-traveled monk. The only other man you had kissed was Eadric, and even then you were young and had no knowledge of the ways of the flesh. This was different; Osferth kissed you the way a man kissed a woman, a lover, a wife. It was all-consuming, a kiss that bordered on gnawing, coupled with his wandering hands that caressed and squeezed your curves. They were rough despite the fabric of your shift separating his touch from your bare flesh, and as they cupped the sides of your thighs, he silently urged you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You obliged, letting him carry your weight with his hands supporting your rear. His stiff length is pressed between your bodies, its veiny underside pushing against the dip in your folds. A whimper permeated the air between you when he guided your hips to rub against his shaft, one echoed by a grunt from the warrior monk. It was an odd feeling, though deliciously pleasant. It was different from when your fingers would circle your pearl as you lay in your cot, biting back your sounds of pleasure lest someone heard through the thin walls. Your hips began to move with Osferth’s rhythm, grinding your pearl against his cock.

“Osferth…” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his once more. The man had started to pant against your lips, small grunts leaving his lips.

“My lady,” he moaned out, before smashing his lips against yours. The kiss was frantic and desperate, with tongues dancing against each other and teeth clashing. You moaned against Osferth’s lips when his cockhead snagged against your folds, rubbing deliciously against your pearl. The prickling heat in your belly began to grow, but you needed more.

“Please, Osferth,” you pleaded against his lips, before letting out a whine.

“What is it, my lady? Say what you need, and it is yours. I am all yours,” he responded. His eyes met yours, which had turned clouded with a heady tinge. There was a wrinkle in between your eyebrows as they furrowed in desperation.

“Take me, all of me,” you said. Your hand reached behind you, taking hold of his cock to guide it to your slit. With another deep kiss from Osferth, he breached your entrance, sliding you down his length. Your moan echoed through the breeze at the stretch, prompting you to bury your head in his neck. You bit hard into the junction of his shoulder from the slight sting; the lack of intimacy with another man leaving your walls unaccustomed to such a stretch. Osferth’s chest vibrated against yours as a deep moan left his lips when he bottomed out, stilling for a moment.

When the pain in your walls began to subside, your hips slowly began to move. Large, calloused hands remained on your rear, guiding you up and down his prick. There was a slight ripple in the water from your movements, growing into small splashes when your hips increased their pace.

You tugged the collar of your shift down, exposing your breasts to the morning air. Osferth leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth, sucking on the stiff bud while a hand massaged the other. Breathy moans of pleasure freely fell from your open lips, singing a tune so sweet to the monk’s ears. Your fingers gripped the hairs on the back of Osferth’s neck, your hips never losing their rhythm. His lips switched to suck on the other breast, leaving soft marks on the supple flesh, marking you as his.

“Do you like this, my lady?” Osferth asked against your skin, before trailing his kisses upward to suck on your neck.

“Yes, oh yes!” you whined. The thought that someone shall hear your moans and discover the pair of you was forgotten with the way your mind grew dazed in Osferth’s embrace. Your nipples rubbed against his taut chest, the fine sprinkle of hair on the milky flesh ticking your sensitive nubs.

“You are the most divine,” the young monk moaned, squeezing your rear. Your lower lip is caught between your teeth tightly, almost breaking flesh as you neared your precipice. The sensation of your pearl rubbing against Osferth’s pubic bone threatened to send you into overdrive, shooting sparks of pleasure up your spine. The warmth in your core bloomed upwards, starting to spread to your chest. Your walls began to squeeze his cock, signifying the start of your release.

“Osferth, ah, I am going to–”

“Go ahead, my beauty, let it go for me,” he coaxed you. Your release washed over you like a dam breaking through its walls. A whine left your lips as your eyes shut, your features scrunching together in bliss. Osferth’s eyes stayed on your face, watching you get lost deep in your delight. He continued to bounce you onto his cock through your release, before pulling out to quickly tug at his cock under the water’s surface. With the sight of your panting chest right before his eyes, Osferth’s cock released spurts of his seed. The clear water was painted with the cloudy fluid, diffusing into the lake.

Recovering from the euphoric daze that had overtaken you, your eye stared into Osferth’s icy blues. You bit your lip to suppress the gigantic smile that had lifted your cheekbones, a giggle bubbling out from your chest. Your lover merely raised his eyebrows, a smile breaking out on his sculptured features.

“What amuses you, my sweet?” Osferth asked softly. You merely shook your head, before leaning your head against his shoulder in an embrace.

“Nothing, I am merely overjoyed,” you replied. A radiant glow fluttered in Osferth’s ribcage, his lips pressing a kiss against your hair.

After rising from the water and redressing, you and Osferth sat on the grass in silence. Your head was leaned against his, while his arm wrapped around your figure, rubbing your back in comfort. You wished for this moment to last for eternity, that you would not be called to your duties, and him to his own. Alas, such power was out of your hands, thus you willed yourself to savor the warmth of his embrace as much as you could.

You felt him reach into his pocket, turning to look at him in surprise when the orange appeared in your sights. The same one you had given him in the kitchens.

“Why have you not eaten it?” you asked. You could smell the citrussy zest of the fruit in his palm, sweet and inviting.

“I was hoping to share it with you,” he said, making you blush. He began to peel the orange, its scent spraying all over. His grip had been too tight, lacking gentleness with the fragile pulp that ended up crushed under his fingertips. You laughed at the juices that spilled on his hands, before gesturing for him to hand the fruit over.

“You are making a mess! Here, let me,” you offered. The smiling warrior handed the orange to you, watching your gentle fingers peel the fruit expertly. Once the rind had been removed, you had handed it back to Osferth, but he had split the fruit in half, giving you the bigger portion. You let out a delighted hum as the sweetness coated your tongue, savoring the taste you only come by so rarely. Osferth watched you with bright eyes while eating his own.

In the quiet still of the morning, moments before you were to be called back into the inn, you sat with your lover upon the grass. You shared an orange, along with soft kisses and words of tenderness. You knew naught what the end of the moon shall bring you, nor the end of the day, but you had this moment, one you shall always think of fondly.

#bella writes ✍️#this is queued #osferth x reader #osferth tlk #osferth x you #osferth x y/n #osferth x oc #osferth #the last kingdom #ewan mitchell

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chrollogy · 11 months ago

Text

EIGHTEEN THOUSAND KILOMETRES

— oikawa tōru x f! reader

syn: Your high school lover suddenly breaks up with you to chase his career in another continent. Ten years later, you unexpectedly bump into him, and feelings that were once buried with time resurface once again but you know better than to let it consume you.

18+ MDNI; timeskip!oikawa, angst, hurt/no comfort (gets a bit better towards the end, trust), light smut, implied sex, brief mention of oral (f receiving), not-so-happy ending (sorry lol), iwaizumi being a good friend. divider: cafekitsune.

word count: 4.9k

notes: sorry i suck at writing the synopsis lmaoo pls trust me on this one. i may or may not have cried while writing this aaaaa i live for oikawa angst sm. feedback is more than welcome!

A few hours.

It took 18-year-old Tōru Oikawa a few hours to intricately gather his thoughts and tell you his plans regarding his future. His future. You always took that with a grain of salt because deep down there’s an impending fear that you weren’t always going to be a part of that, especially with how passionate Tōru was with volleyball—you just didn’t think it would come this soon.

Standing at the doorway to your boyfriend’s room, your clouded gaze followed each hesitant step taken as he quietly packed his clothes. Back and forth, back and forth, Tōru grabbed a handful of clothes from his closet and tossed it into an opened suitcase that lay on the floor. The tension in the room grew heavy with each passing second as his suitcase became evidently packed; your solemn gaze locked on his figure, his back remained facing you.

The silence was deafening, your neck burned with a searing blaze, all the things you wanted to scream at him were stuck in your throat. You’ve been standing on the same spot for more than half an hour now, you couldn’t feel the soles of your feet at all but that didn’t compare to the unbearable pain that weaved its way into your heart. Occasional sniffles and sighs escaped you both but nothing more, no one dared to address the elephant in the room right now. That in less than a day, Tōru was going to be eighteen thousand kilometres away from you. For good.

”We can make it work. .” A shaky sigh left your lips, voice hoarse despite not having the heart to yell and argue with him. Tōru gripped the fabrics in his hand, nails digging into the softness of the textiles, he mirrored your sigh and finally faced you. Eyes slightly red from holding his tears back, Tōru’s brows furrowed, “We’re going to be in two different continents. The time zone would be too much of a difference.”

You don’t have to remind me.

Biting your tongue in frustration, you stared at him. His eyes, his nose, his lips, anything and everything that would help you sear his appearance in your mind. “So you’re just going to let all this go? As easy as that?” Nothing in this is easy for me. For the first time in a few hours, Tōru inched closer to your unmoving figure. He’s been keeping a clear distance as if holding you tight against him would cause you to disappear in a flash despite his heart practically aching to be near you at this very moment.

It took all of Tōru’s willpower not to wrap his arms around you, and whisper into your ear over and over again how much he loves you; how scared he was that in less than a day, you weren’t going to be by his side anymore. He was a coward. He knew that doing so would only worsen the situation at hand.

“You and I have futures to pursue, you of all people should know that.” The wooden frame of his bed creaked as he plopped down with another sigh. “B-but you don’t have to end our relationship like this . . ! Maybe I can go to Argentina with you and—” Your boyfriend waved a dismissive hand and let out an empty chuckle, “Don’t be so irrational.” “You’re the irrational one here, Oikawa!” You raised your voice at him, tone trembling with anger and fear as your nails painfully dug into the plushness of your palms.

Your chest rapidly rose and fell with each heavy breath taken, unshed tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Why did he have to do this? Ever since entering a relationship with Tōru, you’ve always known that you only came second to volleyball but you didn’t know it’d hurt this much. Despite having no intentions of holding him back from the future he has worked hard to carve, you couldn’t help but become a little selfish on your end. Why did Tōru have the need to feel that breaking up with you was the best solution?

As mentioned earlier, you’d do anything and everything to make it work. You were hoping. Hoping that your boyfriend would at least reconsider breaking off the relationship but knowing him, once he had set his mind straight, there was no turning back.

“Do you not love me anymore?” You whispered into the silent room. Tōru looked away as he caught a glimpse of your deflated expression, shutting his eyes as he tried not to think of that specific expression in his mind. All he could muster was a weak rebuttal but he dared not to explain further, even if he wanted, he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when the situation was already taking a toll on both of you. He spoke again, voice threatening to waver,

“Will you come see me off tomorrow?”

You didn’t go despite Iwaizumi’s pleas to see Tōru off with him. You couldn’t. The least you could give yourself right now was space, and seeing your boyfriend off to another country would do more harm than good, especially knowing that he wasn’t yours anymore nor you were his. It took Iwaizumi more than thirty texts to finally give up, it was a rare occurrence as it wasn’t in your friend’s nature to be persistent like that.

You’re thankful that he cares for you a lot because for the first few weeks without Tōru’s presence, both of you confided in each other. There were occurrences where you had to turn down his requests on joining him for a weekly video call with Tōru who still had a hard time settling down in a foreign country; in your mind, you had no business communicating with your ex-boyfriend anymore—he broke off the relationship and that was that.

Weeks turned into months, and months turned into years. As you moved on with life and focused on your career ahead, naturally, you found yourself burying the painful past behind. Not to mention how you deleted Tōru’s number—after painfully reminiscing old texts with him—and blocked him from all your social media accounts. It’s been ten years now and Oikawa was the least of your concern, he was just a person from the past that you’re thankful to have met.

After all, if it wasn’t for what he did, you wouldn’t have learned to grow as an individual and truly seek what you wanted. During the course of your relationship with Oikawa, you were more than content supporting him in his volleyball career, standing at the sidelines and cheering him on but you didn’t know what you wanted for yourself then, and maybe Oikawa saw that earlier on. That breaking up was a way for you to flourish as your own person, not someone who stood amongst the crowd.

It was a peaceful weekend afternoon, passing time at the local convenience store to buy whatever snack you felt like eating before heading home to retire for the day and possibly binge a series you’ve been meaning to watch. Walking down the bread aisle, you caught a glimpse of a very familiar sight. Milk bread. Chuckling, you found yourself reminiscing about the old high school days where you and Oikawa would stop by to buy a pack of milk bread whenever he ran out. You haven’t eaten one since the day he left you.

It wouldn’t hurt to try one now, you thought to yourself. Reaching for the closest pack, another hand suddenly reached out to the one you had set your eyes onto. Both yours and the stranger’s arms retracted back in embarrassment, “S-sorry! You can go ahead and grab it.” You profusely apologised, not noticing the expression the stranger wore. Upon their silence, you drew your attention to the man standing beside you and blinked twice.

It seemed like the only option when the stranger before you was not just any shopper, it was none other than Tōru Oikawa. If you were to tell your 18-year-old self that ten years later, you’d be face to face with your ex-boyfriend, you wouldn’t have believed it. Everything felt strange—from the way the ambience of the store faded into white nothingness, to the way Oikawa felt painfully familiar yet different; he wore the same genuine shock plastered on your face—eyes wide, brows sky high, and lips slightly parted. You wondered if his ears were ringing too or if his heart threatened to leap from his chest. Oikawa was the first to break his trance, searching his mind high and low to find something, anything to say to you.

He was speaking yet nothing was heard on your end, only your own storm of thoughts. All you could muster was to really take him in. His hazel eyes shone beneath the harsh ivory lights of the store—everything about him was the same but unfamiliar; his hair was styled the same way ten years ago but a little shorter, his evident athletic build, his sun kissed skin, his aura. It was your turn to finally return to reality as Oikawa warily waved a slender hand inches from your face, “O-Oikawa. . ?” was all you could come up with, tone airy yet just above a whisper for him to hear. Oikawa greeted your unreadable expression with a familiar warm smile as if the two of you were ten years back in time, hearts beating for one another.

“It’s been a while, huh?” He hummed.

Everything was a blur—from the painfully awkward start of the conversation, to brazenly inviting him back to your apartment to prolong the spontaneous catch up. You were surprised because you both managed to flow into a smooth conversation where no one had to think of anything and everything just to keep the impending silence away. It was weird, you’ve always imagined that seeing Oikawa once again would reel you back in the most unpleasant way; the deepest memories you’ve sworn to reject resurfacing.

But the whole situation before you was a damn far cry from the scenarios in your mind—Oikawa had no hesitations telling you about his life for the past ten years, even going out of his way to inform you of his favourite local meals back in Argentina and how he applied for his citizenship, so you did the same thing. It was like being a teenager all over again, gushing to one another about your interests, and whatever else there was to talk about. You caught a glint in Oikawa’s hazel eyes as he spoke endlessly, almost as if he had been waiting ten whole years just to tell you everything that’s been going on in his life, like he knew the two of you were bound to meet again one way or another.

A solemn smile made its way to his face, the atmosphere in your apartment shifting with it. You held a breath, heart violently pounding against your chest possibly knowing where the conversation was going. “You were the only one I wanted to see, you know? Before I. .” Oikawa trailed off, looking down at his fingers. You nodded, knowing exactly what he was referring to.

It pained you to even imagine it: 18-year-old Tōru Oikawa restlessly scanning the bustling airport for your familiar figure, eyes darting between the ocean of people coming in and out of the terminal, heart sinking down to his stomach as each second passed without your presence. Despite the countless times Iwaizumi reminded him you weren’t coming, he waited. Oikawa waited and waited until he needed to proceed to the airport security, each heavy step further into the airport, he’d hoped you’d call out his name and give him one last hug before he left for Argentina but you never came. That night, Oikawa realised he’d left a piece of his heart back home.

”I’m sorry. .” Was all you could muster. In your defence, he wasn’t the only one hurting—you were torn between saving what’s left of your broken heart and giving in to your desires. Of course, you picked the former. That time, it seemed like the best idea, though, you’d be lying to yourself if you said there weren’t restless nights where you wish you’d gone to see Oikawa off. It plagued you for as long as your cruel mind wanted, scenarios of what could have been a proper goodbye seared into your brain—a one last hug before letting Oikawa chase his dreams, uncertain when you’d be able to see him again.

Oikawa let out a sigh, a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, “I missed you.” He took a small sip of his drink, letting the sweet taste linger on his tongue before nervously swallowing. It took all his willpower to avoid your gaze, staring at the ivory walls ahead, hoping you’d say something sooner or later instead of letting the small confession awkwardly linger in the air. You chuckled, a humourless one,

“You know, I’d be more upset if you didn’t.”

The man whipped his head to your direction, meeting that meaningful gaze of yours; he looked like a deer caught in the headlights—eyes wide and lips slightly parted. For the first time in a while, Tōru Oikawa felt his heart race; it wasn’t like any other, not like the adrenaline rush that took over his body before a match, not like the nervousness he felt when he boarded the plane to Argentina for the first time. It was unique. Uniquely yours. Only you made him feel this way. In the blink of an eye, Oikawa felt like he was pulled back in time, a teenager all over again, brimming with such emotions. If it weren’t for his quick senses, he wouldn’t have noticed the way your gaze subtly shifted downwards—to his lips—and then back up to his eyes.

Have you been on edge all this time, too? Filled with overwhelming emotions? He thought. Yes, it’s been ten long years but that doesn’t mean his heart did not beat for you anymore; it doesn’t mean that he has stopped thinking about you; it doesn’t mean that he did not want to kiss you the moment he laid his eyes on you back at the convenience store. Surely, you didn’t feel the same, right? But then again, it’s been a decade and Oikawa’s feelings remained indifferent to when he left.

A brush of gentle fingers against your cheek caused your eyes to instinctively close, knowing fully well what was about to happen next. A single click from the white clock that hung on your wall. A second. And then Oikawa’s lips were on yours. The kiss was anything but foreign—sure, it felt stiff at first, suddenly not knowing how to match your lips with his but it has been ten years. The kiss was meek but after a heartbeat, you and Oikawa moved in complete unison, falling into that specific pattern you both knew—how he moved his lips, how he let out gasps in between, how he eagerly prodded his tongue. Your head spun, hands exploring Oikawa’s built torso while his own focused on your head, tugging at the strands and gently rubbing your nape.

The atmosphere shifted with the newly found desire, small moans and gasps filled the walls of your apartment as Oikawa kissed you with hunger—as if he was a starved man. He didn’t hesitate to explore you with his tongue, groaning into your mouth before pulling away to take a breather—chests heaving as you both gasped for air, faces mere centimetres from each other, hot breaths intertwining. He looked at you with hooded eyes, gaze filled with carnal desire as he gave your swollen lips a small peck. “I want you so bad . .” Oikawa breathed out, eyes tracing every dip and curve of your features.

Cupping his crimson red cheeks, you gave him a small smile, “I’m all yours.” Always have been and always will be, you wanted to add but already you had an idea Oikawa knew that more than anyone else.

The short journey from the living room to your bedroom was a blur—it was messy, eager hands exploring each other’s body, hungry lips inseparable from one another, articles of clothing swiftly discarded along the path to your bedroom. Lying atop the sheets, your eyes wandered along Oikawa’s bare sun kissed torso—his physique was much bigger than you last remembered, muscles flexing with every movement that had you painfully clenching around nothing.

He stood at the foot of the bed, chestnut hair tousled from the work of your fingers, bare chest heaving from the kiss, and fingers working at the zip of his pants. You took the time to really drink him in—the entirety of him; reality settling on you how much he had grown as a man. Oikawa was no longer that naïve 18-year-old who swallowed all his fears and insecurities with a flirtatious façade.

He eagerly pulled down the remaining clothes he had on, swiftly crawling up the bed towards you, not giving any time to revel at the sight of his bare cock before kissing you again, his fingers intertwining with your own.

It felt surreal, from the way the heat of Oikawa’s naked body felt against your own to the way his kisses explored parts of you that he’s never seen before. He took his time, admiring every inch of your bare body, not hesitating to blurt out praises that came to his mind first thing. “You’re beautiful.” Oikawa whispers against the warmth of your skin followed by an open-mouthed kiss.

He held you gently, caressing and massaging every bit of skin he could get his hands on. He knew better than to rush such an intimate moment with you, especially when he’s been fantasizing about this for the past decade—fantasizing about how your skin would feel beneath his searing touch; how you’d sound when he stimulates the most sensitive parts of your body, how you’d look when pleasure is all you can think about. It drove him absolutely impatient but for you, he’s willing to slow down if it meant he could savour these moments with you—Oikawa has patiently waited for ten years, full of uncertainty. What more was a few minutes to bask in your beauty?

Attentive as ever, he scanned your face for any sign of discomfort, focusing on the way you moaned and scrunched your face in pleasure as he tasted you. God, you tasted like pure heaven—divine. Oikawa could get lost between your legs forever, everything about you drove him crazy. Not to mention how your scent had him completely whipped.

The night continued on like this, Oikawa eagerly exploring your body, pleasuring you in ways you didn’t know even existed—it was almost like he had a list of things at the back of his mind, neatly tucked away for when this specific moment comes. There was never a moment of uncertainty, his body swiftly moving into the next act, bringing you with him. Despite your own pleas to return the pleasure, Oikawa refused, even as his cock leaked with pre-cum, begging to be touched by you. He didn’t have to do all the work but he did, only because he wanted to. He wanted to show you how much his body yearned and desired to be close to yours; ten years was no easy wait. Sure, Oikawa had a fair share of mere hookups with other women but they weren’t you. They will never be you.

As the moon shone amongst the ebony skies, moonlight seeped through the window, casting a faint ethereal glow upon your sweat-coated bodies—skin shining like the stars above. You held onto Oikawa’s shoulders for dear life, ribbons of moans and curses tumbled past your lips and into the thick air of the room, travelling to the ceiling above.

He moved with fervour, hips relentlessly driving into your own as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Back and forth, back and forth, the steady rhythm of Oikawa’s hips, jolting your body along each forceful thrust. It was heaven on earth, naked bodies tangled amongst the ivory sheets as you lost yourselves in each other, one thing in mind. You both cared about nothing at this point, not even the fact that he still had to go back home—to Argentina; not even the fact that your hearts beat as one, interlacing with one another as buried feelings blossomed out in the open—the unsaid, the desire, everything came beautifully crashing down upon the two of you, unsure about what the future holds. That was a conversation for tomorrow, anyway.

Amidst the overwhelming pleasure, the creaking of the bed, and the lewd moans that filled your room, Oikawa found your hand once again, interlacing his damp fingers with yours. He gave it a small squeeze, moaning right into your ear before slipping out a confession, “I love you so much.” It caught you off guard, eyes fluttering open, returning his lustful gaze. “I—” “It’s okay. .” Oikawa cut you off, steadying his breath. He knew exactly what you’d say—that you love him, too—but somehow hearing those words from you after all these years was even more painful than rejecting him because at the end of the day he had to go home.

The night carried on with more and more pleasure, each orgasm becoming more intense than the previous, the movements of your bodies showed signs of exhaustion but none dared to stop—as if stopping was somewhat going to take one away from the other. You’ve never felt anything like this before, waves of pleasure rolling out and crashing into you repeatedly; all you could really do was hold Oikawa tightly, whispering sweet nothings against his neck. God, you could only wish for this to last forever.

As the morning rolled around, the sun shone brightly through your window, slowly burning your skin the longer you stayed in one position. Groaning, you stretched your naked body, muscles painfully crying out from overuse. Normally, you would have cared about it but the spot beside you was cold and empty, no sign of Oikawa. The realisation hit you, heart sinking to the depths of your stomach. Did he leave already? And not even saying goodbye? The loud sound coming from the kitchen pulled you out of the storm of unpleasant thoughts. Ignoring the weakness of your legs, you did your best to slip into a fresh pair of underwear before grabbing Oikawa’s shirt that lay at the entrance of your room to head to the kitchen.

You sucked in a breath. There he stood, only wearing pants from last night while navigating through the small space of your kitchen. He hummed a familiar tune, the saccharine sound of his voice mixing with the sizzling of the eggs he cooked. “Oikawa.” The man before you turned at the sound of your voice, pleasantly shocked, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” He greeted in a singsong voice. You would’ve called him ‘cute’ if it weren’t for the evident lovebites, hues of dark purple and red peppering his torso—it immediately reminded you of last night, cheeks heating up at the lewd memories. “Take a seat. This is done.” Oikawa skilfully plated the eggs, grabbing the freshly toasted bread before heading to the table where you now sat. It was weird yet nice to see him so domestic, something you never really experienced back then.

“Thank you.” You look up at him, a faint smile dancing upon your lips. Oikawa shook his head, “It’s nothing. Just a simple breakfast.” You weren’t talking about the breakfast, though, and he knew that as well but dared not to bring it up. It was bittersweet, really, how the two of you acted right now felt so right but so wrong at the same time—you both acted like a normal couple during a normal morning, as if there wasn’t a return ticket neatly tucked inside Oikawa’s passport that weighed his heart heavy with each passing second in your presence.

Thank you for showing me what could have been.

That was what you meant earlier. Getting the pleasure to look into the life of what could have been with Tōru Oikawa wasn’t much but it put your yearning heart at ease—that in another life, he’d be cooking eggs for you again without having to think about flying back home; that in another life, you ended up together. Maybe if you were still eighteen, you would have cried, screamed at him for getting your hopes up, for leaving you once again, for breaking your heart a second time, you weren’t a teenager anymore but that didn’t mean you were immune to seeing him leave you again—you just got older, and became better at swallowing unwanted emotions.

That’s right. You weren’t a teenager anymore. “You’re leaving tomorrow.” You bit the inside of your cheek, addressing the elephant in the room; you swore Oikawa flinched a little at your straightforwardness. It wasn’t pretty to hear but it also wasn’t a lie. He took a small bite, carefully swallowing the piece before meeting your gaze, “Yeah, Iwa is dropping me off at the airport in the afternoon. .” His sentence lingered in the air, it didn’t dissipate, it stayed there waiting to be finished. You remained silent despite having an idea of what was to come next, you wanted him to say it, just like he did ten years ago. Oikawa nervously cleared his throat,

“Will you come see me off tomorrow?”

Much to Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s surprise, you came to see the former off—a little breathless from jogging around the terminal but at least you were in one piece. You didn’t notice the way Iwaizumi’s eyes widened at the love bites on your neck matching his best friend’s one; he was well aware of what happened between you and Oikawa the other day but just didn’t expect the intensity of it, especially with the situation now, nonetheless, he remained silent. Iwaizumi figured he’d talk to you about it later.

Everything slowed down as Oikawa set his hazel eyes on you—the bustling of the airport, the time displayed on the large digital clock, his racing heart. What he felt right now was a far cry from that day when he left for the first time; ten years ago, everything felt like it was slipping past his fingers. Oikawa remembers pacing back and forth just outside the men’s toilet, Iwaizumi’s attempts to calm him down fell deaf on his ears—all the former could hear was the uncomfortable beat of his heart, and the buzz around him. He tried his best to calm down, he really did but to no avail because at the back of his mind, you were the remedy. If Oikawa told his 18-year-old self that he wouldn’t have to stress so much about flying back to Argentina anymore, his younger self would most likely not believe him—having permanently associated the airport with the dreadful feeling of missing something. Missing someone.

Ten years later, he knows not to worry anymore. “Tōru.” You called out, giving Iwaizumi a quick wave before walking towards the taller man. “You came.” He replied, breathless, not knowing whether to scream at the fact that you came to see him off or called him by his first name. Oh, how Oikawa endlessly prayed to the universe for the day his name rolls off your tongue once again. It was sweet—meant to be voiced by you and only you. The three of you exchanged casual conversation like it was back in high school all over again—small banters here and there between the two men, a little teasing on the side, and most importantly, the unsaid thoughts.

You didn’t want this to end, you didn’t want to let him go but you knew better. Oikawa gave his best friend a firm hug and turned to you, arms spread wide, a sad smile etched on his face. “I’ll miss you so so much.” You let out a sigh, inhaling his scent for one last time as he tightened his hold around you. Oikawa rested his chin on the crown of your head, a light chuckle escaping his lips, “I’d be more upset if you didn’t.” He pulled away, cupping your face and resting his forehead against your own,

“I love you so much. You know that, right?” “I love you too, Tōru.”

Who knew that ten years later you’d be watching the back of your ex lover’s figure walk away from you as he leaves the country—it was silly how the universe worked but you never once doubted it. Despite how cruel it was, you’d already come to terms with it; finally letting go of Tōru Oikawa. You both had different paths in life to pursue, and that was that. It just wasn’t meant to be.

Iwaizumi gave you a friendly pat on the back, noticing the way tears quickly formed as Oikawa faced the other way. Yes, you were older now, more mature but that meant nothing as the love of your life walked away from you once again. You didn’t want to admit it back then but ever since Oikawa left for Argentina, he had taken a piece of your heart with him. And maybe you’ll just have to live with the fact that your heart will stay incomplete—a piece of it remaining eighteen thousand kilometres away from you.

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