#I’m going to have to hold back the urge | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lvrboy-inc · 3 days ago

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“Siren” — K.M.

꒰: Précis | After a shitty breakup with a subpar man, you find yourself drawn to the lights and sleaze of the nearest bar. Drink away your problems or fuck and forget them with the bartender who’s hot as hell.

꒰: Disclaimer(s) | Incubus Bartender!Satoru x virgin!reader, dirty talk, praise, coercion, praise, spitting, hair pulling, PRAISE, pet names (♡)

꒰: Word Count ; 10.2k

꒰: Sweetest Sin Masterlist

“You seem tense, handsome..”

————

Starting your night off with a shitty breakup and one two many drinks might’ve not been the best route to take. In hindsight at least.

Your co-workers had already urged you to break it off with the less than desirable man who could barely breathe without working your nerves and not only that—trying to make you work in the bedroom.

It was an endless cycle of “You get on top, work for me.” and never him using the hips that God gave him to work you out—always ending in a resounding turn off, consistently followed up with, “Next time for sure.” So, after he had started an argument, ending in trauma being spat out in a fit of anger, you felt thankful, grateful, blessed even that he gave you a reason.

But..all breakups are hard to get over. Whether they were a long time coming or not, it’s always a shitty experience.

What’s always the best unhealthy coping mechanism for such..? A drink, of course.

“A drink.”

That was the intention..but you wound up getting more plastered than expected and crying out your woes to the bartender who had only asked whether you’d be putting things on your tab or card for the night.

He was charismatic—maybe because of the job description and having to be a poster boy for such a place. Sweet talking drinks into vulnerable people so he could get tips and points from his boss for making them profit. It was a good hustle, respectable and fun.

Not to mention..he was damn good at it.

After a bit of a slurred exchange of words, you’d gotten to know a few things about him: His name, Satoru, Satoru Gojo. 28, graduated college with a psych major, infinitely and criminally tall—6’3 to be exact—and to your surprise, swung both ways. Often.

You found yourself asking stupid questions just so he would slide your way from the other customers.

“I’m starting to think I should cut you off,” He teased after about the 5th call over.

You raised up your head to rest in the palm of your hand, running your index over the rim of the golden-lined glass he’d refilled so many times now. Some of it you drank, most of it you babysat. “I’m pacing myself alright..” You’d slur out with a mild puffing of your cheeks.

“Oh yeah? Your cheeks are flushed, hun. Unless that’s just from staring too long.” The way he pointed out your fluster so obviously couldn’t have made it go down any.

“You’re too cocky..‘m holding over fine.” A bit snippy but he laughed heartily, drying off a used glass with the hand towel he’d kept attached to his hip.

Even from this distance, you could just tell he smelled nice. Maybe it was the already alcoholic aroma that the rather sleazy place held but you could’ve sworn there were hints of cologne—expensive cologne—that mingled with it.

Those piercing blues he had, barely dimmed out by the lighting of the establishment flickered over you and a slick smile spread across his lips. “Then, please, I’m at your disposal. Need another drink, pretty boy?”

An initial sound of surprise came with the name but you turned away from him slightly and blew a stray strand of hair from in front of your eyes. “No..”

“Ah, so you did just want to talk to me.”

“Shut up..don’t you have a job to do?” You quickly retorted with a harsh roll of eyes.

Shrugging, he waved a small goodbye. Not before adding on a small, “You’re technically a part of it..”

And in another moment, you were back to eating up the eye candy. In your mild boredom, you opened up your phone to see your shitty ex spamming you across every platform imaginable—TikTok, Insta, Snap, Facebook, hell, he went as far as to email you. He was hooked and just seeing the mass notifications made you want to throw the whole device away.

That’s when you got a really..really bad idea.

About an hour went by and the promiscuous bartender had paid you a few more stops of his own volition. Each encounter got more and more..suggestive, to say the least.

From mild flirting to him finally saying, “My eyes are up here, you know.” when yours were drifting.

“Obviously..but that’s not really the objective.”

He visibly was caught off guard by your comment, going as far as to lean his arms forward onto the bar top, eyes now boring into your soul it felt like as he purred out a response. “Oh? And what might your objective be? You’ve been eyeing me since you walked in, can’t help but feel you undressing me.”

“I’m not some sort of pervert—you’re making it sound worse than it is.” Furrowing your brows slightly, he tilted his head in that oh-so innocent fashion.

It was hard to not crack a smile.

“I am,” He admitted smoothly, now actively ignoring a small trio of women at the end of the counter. “But, you didn’t answer my question.”

With one last adjustment of his neck, he was staring right at you. “What’s your objective here, pretty boy?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“Terribly. But, I’d just love it if you could use your words. Give me something worth listening to and blowing off customers for.” His tone, his posture, his eyes—God, this is what true temptation feels like.

Working up the courage which..didn’t take long, thanks to liquid confidence, you squared your shoulders a bit to meet his gaze properly. “My objective is you. Is that so hard to piece together?”

“Don’t talk about things being hard right now.”

…

A round of silence and you were pulling a pen out of his breast pocket, you went along and grabbed his notepad as well. “And what are you doing now?”

“Giving you my cell..obviously.” Quipping back, you started to jot down the series of numbers before his slender fingers were pulling the parchment down so your focus was back on him once more.

He flashed that award-winning smile and stood up straight again. “No need. My shift ends in 30.”

Oh, he was confident.

“Make it 25. My place or yours?”

Finally, the women at the end had gotten more than impatient and wound up calling out a not-so passive, aggressive, “Bartender!” from down the way to which he cast a small grin your way.

“Duty calls.” He said briefly and then, he was gone again. Was he serious..? Maybe the drinks were really just getting to you but Lord..the way he spoke to you, sized you up—he wanted to talk about undressing people with their eyes? Please.

You could almost feel how he was defiling you in his head.

Among other things, you decided to down the rest of your drink and ultimately did put it on your tab. Once he’d taken down his apron and you had gathered the remnants of your heart that had led you to this point, you both were walking out with an air of civility…

Such a stark contrast to the debauchery that was promising the night.

Initially, you’d offered to take your car but he waved a hand with a chuckle, pointing over to a white Mustang GT sitting pretty in the parking lot. “I’ll get my co-worker to keep an eye on your ride for the night. You can come get it in the morning, ‘kay, handsome?”

“Should I feel insulted..?”

He looked around for a bit before looking back down at you. “I don’t know, are you into that sorta thing?”

“Do you always talk to people like this?”

“Hm, like what?” Peering in closer, he dug his keys out of his pocket, twirling them around his index for a moment before resting them in his palm.

Crossing your arms and beginning the path to his car, you spoke, “Like a slut.”

“Are you not one too, though?” He drawled, purposely keeping his strides slow just so you could keep up easily in your dwindling intoxication. “I mean, you came to my place of work, talked me up, now, we’re heading back to your place—is that not slut behavior?”

You got ready to make another smart comment but wound up falling short and simply digging an elbow into his ribs that elicited a pained groan followed by light laughter.

He was enjoying this way too much.

Even on the ride home, he wouldn’t let up in his relentless teasing fit. With the low rumbling of the smooth engine carrying you across the streets of the night city, he held one hand on the wheel whilst the other rested on the gear shift.

Every so often though, he’d try and drift his fingers over..over and up to your thigh which made you crane your neck to give him a sideways glance. “We’re not even halfway there yet..” You chastised lowly to which he moved his hand down, giving your thigh a playful squeeze instead of the devilish wandering it’d been doing before.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is foreplay not your thing?” Scoffing lightly, he shook his head and briefly peeled his eyes away from the road to look over you once again—it was becoming a habit. “I thought maybe you’d be as eager as I am—seeing as you’re the one who came onto me, after all.”

Rolling your eyes instinctively, you turned to face the window a bit. “Barely..I gave hints and you took them to ten fold. And I do like foreplay, seeing as my ex lacked the ability…I just wouldn’t want it to wind up with us fogging up these windows.”

“Please, I wouldn’t fuck you in my car,” He said it quick, as if he was a bit offended at the proposition. “I respect my baby better than to make a mess of either of you in here.”

That shut you up rather quickly.

You let your head make a small thud against the cold glass with an audible, “Hmph.” But, it was rather deterred when your hand moved over his, dragging it up further until it basically rested on the junction of your hips and leg. He didn’t make a comment and neither did you, save for the way your body spoke, pressing your thighs lightly together to hold his hand there.

Regardless, the rest of the drive was calm and when you’d arrived back to your quaint condo, just a bit out from the center of the cityscape, he turned the keys out of the ignition and got out of the driver’s side door.

Moving to open up the door, you started to get out before he was right there in front of it, closing it back. “What the hell?” You exclaimed, given the roughness of the pushback.

He took a few moments before opening the door so gently and leaning down to your sitting level. “You’re trying to rob me of my gentlemanly status, pretty boy. Can’t have that now, can we?” With that, he extended a flat palm your way which you took—not without a low, grumbled string of complaints at his dramatacism.

You fumbled with your keys for a split second before getting up to the door. Satoru loomed behind you, making a small shiver trail over your spine—that cologne was his.

Once getting inside, you were greeted by your precious feline companion who, instead of rubbing against your ankles, circled through Satoru’s. He gave a deep laugh of amusement, crouching down to scratch behind the furry friend’s ear to which he purred and mewed in response. “What’s its name?”

“His name is Dot.” You gave back, just the slightest bit jealous that the cat had taken a bigger liking to the house guest than the man who fed him every day. “He usually doesn’t like house guests..” A mild jab at the pet who was jingling and purring as Satoru catered to his sweet spots.

Though..after enough time and playful back and forth, just getting to know one another, flirting..whispering..trading spit..things got much more hot and heavy much quicker than you expected.

Once he’d had his tongue down your throat, it tasted..sweet. Not even in the metaphorical sense but like a literal syrup—an addictively sweet taste that had your head spinning..hazy, even.

Your back was already flat against the bed and he was taking his time..so much so you were getting impatient. Breaking the seal between your spit-drenched lips with a soft pwah, he was breathing right into your mouth. He trailed his hand up along the column of your throat and finally, a thumb was swiping across your bottom lip, pressing down on it just to get a glimpse of your lower set.

“Somethin’ wrong..?” God..how did he sound even more sultry than before..? All panting, just as his low-lidded eyes fell on yours. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out now..”

Just for a moment, you were speechless. Now, you were really feeling the effects. Kissing’s never felt this good before..ever. And that haze from before? It was becoming a lot more prominent. “My head..feels weird..” You breathed out, finding yourself gradually heating up..from the inside.

“Ah, you’re catching on, pretty boy.” Catching on? To what exactly?

Instead of giving any sort of reassurance, his knee was creating friction along your jeans that were already straining. It was all so warm..hot, burning..something was off and all you could trace it back to was the man on top of you now. “It’s been so long since I’ve gotten an easy mark like you..you really did make this way too easy, handsome.” He purred, trailing kisses and nips down your collarbones—exposed by your loose hanging shirt—and down, down, down.

It was so heated, every touch he showered your body with, even the simple action of him sliding his fingertips under your tee and dragging the fabric up was enough to make you squirm.

“What are you..talking about..?” You managed to say, relatively snapping back to a bit of reality. Despite how he was already kissing down from where your ribs connected under your skin, past your midsection and laving his tongue over your navel—it was obvious he was avoiding your questions.

Deft fingers picked apart the button of your pants, leaving them hanging open until he was back over top of your face. Satoru was analyzing your features, each twitch and shift in expression—the effect he was having on you.

It was utterly adorable.

Watching that stressed, pretty face all night, going from ranting and raving about a man who could hardly be called such to opening up into his own drunken desire and now laid out underneath him—fuck, it was a head rush.

“You seem tense, handsome..” The name rolled off his tongue like a vice and you could’ve sworn you were hooked. “Are you finally realizing what you got yourself into, hm?”

It was only a second. You blinked, eyes already squinting through each glance up at him and before you knew it he wasn’t..him anymore. With each passing open and shut rhythm it was something:

First his teeth, he was speaking but God knows you weren’t tuned in. Then the hands that had once been so soft, neatly cut and filed down grew into something sharp—clawed. And finally, there were those damn horns. You wished, hoped prayed that you were just too out of it to really be seeing straight but..it was real.

That cute bartender, the one who had teased and teased, led you on and wrapped you around his finger for the night..was a demon. An incubus at that—which, when it dawned on you, became even more of a problem.

Obviously, the first reaction was panic, a widespread “fight or flight” response that gradually was dimmed out. Next thing you knew, he was laughing..like, genuinely, cracking the fuck up. He could see the struggle in your eyes, the burning want, the need to fight back but oh..that little party trick from earlier was doing its job.

“Shh, shhh..it’s alright, nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about. Relax f’me..thaaat’s it..” He was speaking so slowly, so tauntingly, it felt like he was dumbing you down with his voice alone. “Fun fact about incubi—their spit counts as raw aphrodisiac..”

He leaned in closer, licking away a stray tear that had rolled down to the peak of your cheekbone before disappearing onto the warmth of his tongue. “And another fun fact..you kiss like a fuckin’ pornstar.” Already, his mouth was in desperate need of some soap.

If it’d stopped there, that would’ve been ideal. You could barely think straight, poor thing. A little too turned on for a first time, scared out of your wits, and still..still wanting to go further. You wanted him to take you further.

“Don’t you worry about a siiingle thing,” A low purr would escape him as his hands’ earlier work at your shirt finally finished, sliding it up and over your head until it was then pulled right around your wrists—he made it so. “Let me do allll that fuckin’ work for you. I told you you’re a part of my job, didn’t I..?”

You took in a shuddering breath, head instinctively flicking over to the side with a subtle roll of your hips. Oh-so absentmindedly your movements were..because as his nails made their tracings along your skin—from your chest, where he leaned all the way down just to shower your sensitive buds with the utmost attention, to how his palms then rubbed over your hips—you were just grinding.

Grinding it out on the rough fabric covering his knee as he steadily worked you over. His tongue felt..different. As in, before, it was..softer, more inviting, cute even. But now..? God, it could’ve wrapped around your cock twice and still reach the base with ease. That was a bet.

He was reveling in the series of whimpers and whines that you drenched his ears with, each one offering up a low, vibrating chuckle against your chest.

“Mhn.. ‘Toru..” Damn, was that your voice speaking..? Where did all this “Toru” business come from..? Whatever..all you knew was it tasted like heaven in your mouth and like a siren’s call to his brain. “S-stop fuckin’ around already..demon, incubus or not, you got me hot and bothered so deal with it—properly.”

A round of tutting left him as he finally detached himself from your now-swollen nipples, only to go back in to land a bite and minor tug on one of them. Already, the action alone had your legs trying to close up around his, stomach fluttering just from the feeling of his sharp canines digging in. Oh you knew he left a mark. You could already feel it.

Just as quickly as he doled out his physical reprimand, he was back to his affectionate, lewd lapping at your nub, alternating between each and giving whichever was orally unattended, pinches and rolls between his fingers. “I thought you liked foreplay, pretty boy..don’t tell me you got a little impatient and changed your mind?”

“You’ve got the brain of a whore and the body of a virgin—what kinda joke is that?” Sitting back on his haunches, both of his hands crossed over his pelvis, gripping the ends of his shirt as he tugged it off over his head. In all honesty your body had a reaction to that—a small gasp that he undoubtedly heard as well.

The shocking part wasn’t even the sheer cut of him, no, but the pair of wings that accompanied. A dark, charcoal black that differed so heavily from the pure white that his hair adorned. Stemming from his chiseled shoulder blades like a stalk.

His attention ran right back to you as he readjusted himself between your legs, both hands snaking to your inner thighs as he parted them like a sea: slow and deliberate. One of them trailed up further..coming to rest just before your groin where he splayed his fingers out.

“Hey,” A more baritone call for your attention as he stared you head on. “This is gonna really suck while I’m not inside you so..hold out for me, ‘kay?”

Rubbing soothing circles over where his fingers had found purchase, he rolled his hips forward, cracking that smile that was now sullied by the sharpness of his once-straight and narrow dental set. “You can hold out f’me, right?”

He wasn’t even asking. He talked like it was a fact.

“Nah, I know you can..you can take anything I throw at you..” Before you could even deny it, to tell him to reevaluate his expectations of your threshold, it was in motion.

The surging energy that he flowed out into your lower body first, then the crackle of electricity that followed suit, gradually descending into a sickening ache inside that felt like an inferno needing to be quelled. You squirmed and writhed, fragile fingers threatened to tear up your sheets as your strained voice caught up in your throat.

Eyes squeezed shut as you grit your teeth so hard you thought they could’ve cracked from the pressure. He was murmuring words of praise, encouragement, of urging you to endure it. And after a bit, it was less painful and more just a throbbing need that already had you breathless.

“Haah..fuck, what is..God..” The last name was said like it was the worst of profanity as you finally worked up enough gall to look down. Once his hand lifted from its place, that’s when you saw it.

Right there, just below where your stomach ended and your happy trail began—a fucking womb tattoo.

No, like, for real. It was engraved in your skin, staining your flesh that same charcoal black with the intricate scrawl of abstract twists all centered around a hollow heart design.

Fuck how it looked though—your body was screaming.

Just from the proximity alone from Satoru, it was getting harder to breathe, harder to even think straight and his pants weren’t even off yet. Was this the power of a real fucking demon? Able to bring a man to his knees with just a few well-placed touches and words of slutty promise?

“Toruuu..it burns..” A pathetic whine fell from your lips as you ran your hands down to try and soothe the ache. But not only with your shirt tangled up along your wrists but one of his own pinning them back against the headboard, you were stuck.

That roll of his hips had gotten bolder, more rhythmic..you could feel how much he was into this. Not only by the way he seemed to do it mindlessly, his breathy pants and the slight flutter of his abnormal appendages, but God..the fucking print.

Oh, it was fucking big.

Here he was, trying to keep you under control when he seemed like he would burst at the seams with one wrong move. “I know, I know..I feel it too, baby..” This whole time, he’d been rather composed—you know, while making you fall apart—but even now, it seemed hard for even him to keep himself under control.

“Tell me,” There went that damn tone again, though, instead of that cocky arrogance, it was almost desperate. “Do you want this as much as I do..? Don’t think with your dick right now, as hard as I know that is to do that right now…”

Trailing off, his free hand cupped your jaw, making blown pupils meet the zeroed. You could’ve gotten high off the eye contact alone at this point. “Say the word and I’ll stop—you won’t have to remember this ever happened. You’ll forget everything about me, your body will go right back to how it was and..I’ll be gone.”

“But I’ll miss this face..those eyes, your voice..oh…” No matter how much he was prioritizing you, how much he meant every word he said..he couldn’t help but pray, beg for God to do him a solid and let you say yes to this. “Come on, pretty boy..”

“Talk to me.”

It was less of an asking and much more like a command. Your hesitation was so evident in the way your breath hitched with each labored inhale and exhale. The proposition was set but the real question remained unanswered—were you really about to give up your virginity to an incubus..?

…

Well..yeah.

Making sure you never took your eyes off him, after what felt like an eternity, you uttered, “I crave it, Toru..please, don’t get me all the way here and leave me..I need you. Need to feel you in places I don’t know exist…” And with a final batting of your lashes, you breathed, “..need you to fuckin’ ruin me.”

That did it.

“Goddamn your mouth is so fuckin’ nasty,” Like a flip switched in his brain, he was on you. Gone was the gentle caress of his kiss—replaced by the starved devouring of your lips, teeth and tongue as he finally got serious. “I cannot wait to break you the fuck in.”

And by God did he mean it in every sense of the word.

His hands were everywhere: your hips, thighs, face, anywhere he could get a feel for you. A feel for the heat that you were radiating and pouring off in gallons. It didn’t take long at all for him to start tugging at the rest of the clothing that was keeping him from what he was gunning for.

Bits and pieces of fabric stripped away like nothing but an inconvenience before being discarded into the growing pile of articles on the floor. Once you were laid out bare in front of him, you faintly caught wind of an instinctive, “Fuck..” Slipping from his mouth before he was already hooking your leg onto his shoulder.

Even in his haste, he was handling you with sooo much care. His bites felt like nips and grazes before he was leaning in closer..further up until the heated inner of your thigh was burning the side of his face. He stayed there for a moment closing his eyes like he was an aerosol fiend.

But oh, oh when those glaciers met your gaze again, he bit down, hard. Those canines of his were a force to be reckoned with because the yelp that tore from you upon the breaking of skin was awful.

“What the hell, Toru..?” You complained, furrowing your eyebrows down into an expression that was meant to be scolding but you couldn’t deny the way the new addition to your skin was twisting your perception of pain and pleasure oh so deliciously.

And boy did he know. One turned into two and gradually, your thighs were stained with his saliva and the clear imprint of his teeth—slightly bloodied and hickeys for daaays.

At one point, you’d closed your legs up around him, a feeble attempt at a timeout but he wasted no time in prying then right back open, lowering his head enough to lick a looong, slow stripe up your neglected cock that had been sitting so pretty on the sidelines.

You really were acting like a virgin—the simple lick making your hips lift up just a bit before the contact was taken back away. A whimper of protest was heard at the loss of sensation and before you knew it, he was speaking again. “Ahh, is that what you want, pretty boy? Hm?”

Although his eyes were on you right now, he couldn’t help but feel the effects of not only smelling—seeing, touching, breathing—but tasting you on his tongue. All the while with both hands busy and his pants seeming like the greatest obstacle on Earth. But he digressed, bringing up a sharp-nailed hand to press his palm down juuust enough to glide up and dig your length a bit further against your stomach.

“Wanna feel my mouth giving all my attention to this cute cock of yours, hm?” A drawl of a question and you were already getting driven up the wall by the physical aspect that came with it. “Come onnn, what did I say about using your words, sweetheart?”

Did he like..need you to die in the process of all this?

A simpering moan was all your mind could muster up before you let out a light puff, willing yourself to meet those eyes that seemed to be doing more work than anything else right now. “Please, Toru..You’re driving me insane..” Breathless and absolutely helpless—just how he liked you.

The verbal queue was all he needed. With one chuckled out, “Good boyyy.” Oh he was getting to work.

That tongue that had seemingly grown in measure was going alongside with his hands—smooth and soft, yet a little calloused—that took your aching shaft up into his palm. He fucking kissed up, from base to tip and then swiped his tongue back and forth under your sensitive frenulum before using those plump lips to give playful sucks to your weeping slit.

Swirling that aphrodisiac-saliva slick all over until you finally caved, pulling your forearms in front of your eyes and just barely stifling out your voice from behind them. The muscles in your thighs were just shivering, and he hadn’t even taken it all in yet.

God you were fucking hopeless.

Satoru’s hands rubbed soothingly along your inners as he showered your cockhead with sooo much care. It was so much yet still not enough. “Mhn..f-fuck, deeper..please..” Even as you begged for more, your body was following its own rhythm, hips bucking up into the inviting heat of his mouth. “Come on..you’re a..haah, demon, right..? This is your job..right?”

“Then give me more.” You were taken aback by the urgency you held in your voice and he clearly was too—seeing as his tongue stopped its endless movement that had remained focused solely on the tip of your member. And in one, sharp-toothed grin, he was following your words to the letter.

Oh and God could you tell he had the experience of a lifetime. From head to base, he took it alll down. He even did the courtesy of holding his mouth there, swallowing around every delicious inch like it was the sweetest candy he’d ever. Fucking. Tasted.

The sensation was enough to make your head finally fall back into the plush pillow set that decorated the top of your bed, shuddering out a throaty groan and ultimately a sigh of relief. His tongue got back to work, even though he wasn’t moving his head, you could feel the methodical patterns he made along the underside, around—even going as far as to trace the veins that pulsed with each flick.

But when he started to move? Your eyes fluttered back like you were experiencing the first effects of anesthesia. Even with his sharpened set, you didn’t feel one bit of teeth.

The worst fucking part was those damn eyes.

You were avoiding his like a plague but you could feel them burning holes through you as your fingers raked through your hair. Yeah, you’d gotten sucked off before but goddamn, he was sucking the soul out of you.

Finally, your lids managed to peel open when your legs began to tense up, mindlessly rutting your pelvis up and down, just so desperate for that high you could feel coiling in your stomach. He noticed all the squirming, could taste the bittersweet of pre that dripped into his tongue each time he pulled his head back up—you both knew you were close.

A series of careening moans later and he pulled his lips off of you with a wet pop, putting in the effort to spit directly on the tip, rubbing his thumb over that weeping slit until you were sure you’d cramp up. His hand already picked up where his mouth left off and he was just heaving those barely useful, hot, shuddering, laughing breaths onto the connection of your shaft and head.

“You taste like fuckin’ heaven, pretty boy,” He said with a bit of a cockdrunk smile on his face. Those charcoal wings gave their own fluttering of excitement—now that you were slightly able to focus on something else other than his oral cavity. “I could suck this cock for hours and I’d keep going even when my jaw locks.”

And he wanted to talk about your mouth being nasty?

He brought his other hand to help with the job, left moving in short, up and down motions whilst the other was simply bullying the entrance of your urethra. Your hands, on the other hand, were simply just trying to find purchase on anything you could get them on.

The sheets, the pillow, your own tousled locks—whatever to help you cope with the burning need in your gut. “Oh f-fuck, oh God..‘Toru, Toru..!” You tumbled out in a hurried fashion as both your hands tried to close either ends of the pillow over your face to possibly shield you from the embarrassment..from those damn eyes. “Close.. ‘m close..s-so fuckin’..fuuuck..”

Vocabulary falling short, you heard the deep chuckle that he made, followed up by such a soft coo—all the while he was making you feel euphoric. It couldn’t have felt this good in its own..right? Sure, being a virgin was one thing but you’d gotten handys and blowjobs plenty of times before. It had to be that damn mark..right?

“Look at you..aww, you poor, poor thing,” The lilt in his voice made a whine of annoyance and frustration die out in the pillow that now barely masked your features. “You feelin’ it? My hands, my mouth, my breath..oh it’s just too much isn’t it? If you can’t handle this..”

He trailed off like he finished the sentence once in his head before finally verbalizing it, “Just how are you going to manage with my cock fucking you stupid? Huuh?”

Automatically, you felt another surge when his words reached your brain—not your ears but after they registered—and you were damn near trembling with the effort to hold back and keep up the tedious conversation. Or, it seemed rather tedious..to you.

“Can you imagine it already, huh? How it’s gonna feel when I finally sink in, the draaaag..Your eyes going cross when I bottom out, when you can feel me all the way up to your stomach—” He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before you were sent tumbling over the edge in a fit of muffled profanity and swears.

Once again, that raspy chuckle of his echoed against your walls, only quieted down when his lips wrapped around the twitching and now pulsating head of your cock that emptied out straight into his waiting maw.

He closed his eyes, you heard—and felt—his low hums of appreciation as he drank it all down like he was on the brink of dehydration. As he did, the symbol along your pelvic bone started illuminating the small space it took up. It was almost hypnotizing..

After what seemed like absolutely forever, you fell back into the pillows with strained sounds of your come down, looking down to find Satoru’s glaciers staring right back up at you through those snowy lashes. You’d expected a witty remark but he simply pulled his lips off, holding your softening shaft in one hand as he opened his mouth up.

There, you saw the aftermath of your own premature climax. Immediately, your face lit up with a deep crimson. “Jeez, I thought you swallowed already..!”

He shook his head, smiling cheekily.

“Are you waiting on my say-so..?”

A bout of silence..then another nod.

You pulled a face, glancing off to the side and only coming back when he gave a few more teasing strokes that made you yelp in frustration. “F-fine..! Swallow, spit, I don’t care..I just..”

“I just want to stop the burning in my stomach..it feels like…I’ll die without it—without you..” You breathed. “So quit fucking around and do me right.”

That did it for him, seeing as he swallowed with haste and stuck his tongue out to reveal the—relatively—empty contents. What he did next was more bold.

Slowly, surely, he raised his head up, peering in over you. Even after all this and such a lack of clothing, the scent of his cologne still drenched your senses and managed to make your vision just a bit hazier in the proximity. All of that amplified ten-fold when he sealed your mouths together.

Sloppy, and riddled with the taste of your own cum, he was taking your breath away with each slick slide of your tongues along one another. A heady mixture of that delicious aphrodisiac and something uniquely his.

This entire time he’d been so patient. Dragging it on for what seemed like absolute ages. So when you felt his hand sneaking down—past your navel, not at all skipping your sensitivity—and finally down to your patient, waiting, hole.

Just the graze was enough but when two—not one—of his lengthy digits slid in, and his breath began to fan across your face with each break of this kiss..it was showtime.

“Fun fact, pretty boy..” He’d say, curling his fingertips into a spot you couldn’t even reach properly before you met him. “This, this little symbol right here..?”

As your legs were starting to clamp up, he used his free hand to trace over the tattoo embedded into your pelvic bone. “Makes things sooo much easier for me—for us..” Trailing off, he had gotten just mildly carried away as he hit that sweet nerve inside that elicited such a tantalizing sound to drip from your lips. “It gets you all nice and ready for me and I don’t even have to do anything too bad, t’ya..”

“Ain’t that exciting?” Chiming, he got his answer via the resurgence of your erection against your stomach.

This was his element and clearly he was thriving.

The sound of his digits knuckle deep inside—stirring up the fire that was raging in yourty core—bounced off the walls like a symphony.

Your voice was only getting sweeter and sweeter, falling on his ears in a way that made his previous, mindless, grinding down into the sheets seem like it would never be enough.

It wasn’t enough.

Not with your tight heat already pulsing and gripping his fingers like a vice, giving him a perfect demonstration of what he could be buried in right now.

“C’monn, I’ll talk you through it if it hurts too bad but..fuck…I can’t hold off anymore,” He slid his fingers out of you, but not without a shiver running up your spine.

Drifting downward, he undid—what he would call—his restraints and slid off everything from the waist down. Once he kicked it off to the edge of the bed and over, Satoru sat up on his knees and began fisting the base of his thick shaft.

“You’ve been leading me on all night..a man can only take so much you know..” It was almost a whining complaint that he twisted into a slight reprimand. “Let’s take this all the way. Let me get you there. You know I’ll fuck you so right in all the wrong ways.”

Panting now, he looked down at how your body was screaming with Fahrenheit and anticipation as much a him. The puddle of slick pouring out into the slight indents of your abdomen from your sobbing cockhead—that, amongst others let him know just how he was getting to you.

Just a bit of finger fucking and you were already like this..? He couldn’t even begin to fathom how you’d be when all 7.4 sunk in.

A whine trailed out when, the slight of fullness had been removed from your pulsing walls. “‘Toru..” You frustratedly simpered out, covering up your eyes with your forearm. “Quit f-fucking playing..”

“Playing? I’m just waiting for you to drop the attitude and ask me how you know you’re s’posed to.” He snipped back. “You’re the one squirming around and enjoying yourself getting off on my hand but you’re still so confident.”

You bit back a groan at his bratty response and shivered out a sigh. “I’m..sorry.”

“For..?”

“For giving you lip about how you’re not inside me right now.”

He shrugged his shoulders and slid his dripping tip along the crevice of your as—teasing you with his hips each time it caught on the rim. “I think you can do better than that..” Each pass spreading the slick that was artificially—or ‘magically’—pouring out of you and the fat drops of pre that were coming from Satoru.

Leaning your head back, down into the pillow, you began to speak, “Haah..for being..defiant—”

“Look me in the eyes when you’re asking me for something. That’s common courtesy.” With a slight bite, he pressed the tip past just a bit and it was enough to make you trip up in your sentence.

Your arm fell from over your eyes and to the side of your head as you stared up at him with all due reluctance. It was mildly hard to tell with how your features were already being contorted by the promise of more. “I’m sorry for being..mhn..defiant. I’ll listen, I’ll be..good for you. So please give me what I want..”

“Atta boy.” He purred, taking that as a sign to ‘spontaneously forgive you’. In reality—he just hadn’t expected you to beg so fucking nicely with just a bit of teasing. Next thing you knew, he was bottoming out inside you.

The pathetic sound that your mouth produced was one you didn’t know you could make before. A gradual and steady ease into it would’ve been better but oh he did the exact opposite of any of that. He had let out his own slightly pained groan at the sheer grip that you had on every inch you’d taken so gracefully. Eyes falling directly down onto you, he gave a half-smile that was somewhat meant to convince himself, just as much as you that it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Holy shit..fuck you feel…fuck..” Vocabulary failing for what felt like the first time during the entire encounter, you heard the light fluttering of his wings up on his shoulders–most likely compensating for the way his hips had jutted to a stop after the initial breach of both your senses.

The cherry on top had to be the fact that he had pressed down riiight onto that little symbol of yours. Exactly where you could feel his cockhead nestled so snugly inside. It didn’t help that the veins were pulsing as they struggled to all find purchase within your sopping wet hole. He pushed your legs back by your knees–not into a full-on mating press yet but just enough so he could start rocking and setting up a steadfast rhythm inside.

You thought it’d be easier to–well, who are we kidding? It was already hard enough for you to deal with him just being inside but now with that drag that was building up the friction your body felt like it’d been waiting ages for; you were already rendered a stuttering, tensed up mess.

Rampant fingers scrambling for him and finally pulling him down on top of you by the base of his horns, you earned a groan that faded off into a dry laugh. “Aw, already can’t seem to get me close enough? I’m already all the way up in your stomach, you know..”

“I..mnh..I know, I know..f-fuck, ‘s just..a lot.” You pieced together, even with the currents that were creating seas of pleasure through your veins. It was like each time he pulled out and dropped all the way back down into you, his throbbing cock found new spots to bully and pinpoint. “.. ‘Yer fillin’ me up so much I c-can barely think straight, ‘Toru..”

That hanging coo of his name made his heart–and well, dick–throb as he furrowed his eyebrows in slight concentration. He was building up a sweat, easy to tell from the droplets that slid down his brow ridge and past his face to fall onto you.

“Are you sure you’re a virgin..? Or do you just naturally say shit that makes me want to give up on trying to fuck you slow?” He grunted, each time with a deep grind against your deepest parts.

At one point, he went into what felt like full downward dog and that alone was enough to prove his question to be redundant. Poor you, you didn’t even know what that bit of hip curvature could do before you were shuddering out a premature orgasm that startled the both of you when it hit. You were slightly mortified at the fact you’d cum from just a few well-placed strokes but to Satoru, you couldn’t have stroked his ego any better. That little emblem glowed it’s white shimmer until your climax subsided, Satoru never really stopping his motions until you were completely sated and now thoroughly heightened in your nerves. “Fuck, ah, s-shit, I’m sorry I didn’t think I’d–”

“Why’re you apologizing for that?” He laughed out. “It’s only your first of tonight, anyway. Might as well get used to it..” Giving another scan over your body, he could see and feel just how much each little detail was contributing to the state you were in now. “Hey, can you..get on all fours for me..?” “Why..?”

“I want to see if you can get a few back to backs while I’m hitting it from the back.” So chipper about it, you couldn’t help the slight twist of annoyance that came with it. To him it was worth it though, just to see your face get all pouty about the matter.

Slowly withdrawing, he eased you off of your back with a flawless handling of your waist and legs, making sure not to give you too much ragdoll treatment–yet. Your face naturally landed into the pillow with a muffled ‘hmph’ and just seconds later, you felt his thumbs spreading your hole out. He was admiring the view and your face grew hotter with each passing instant that you could feel his eyes lingering there.

“Do you mind–”

“Hush up, f’me. Let me enjoy this fully–it’s not every day that I get to fuck virgins so I’m trying to make you last.”

You let out a lengthy groan into the fabric before speaking again, “Why can’t you just fuck my brains out already..that is your job. Not to tease me until I can’t take it anymore..” “Oh, trust me, sweetie,” All matter-of-factly, he leaned down to nip and bite at the exposed skin of your shoulder, moving to lick a stripe from your tailbone, all the way up until he placed another loving set of teeth marks at the nape of your neck. “If that was enough to make you finish quick as you did–you wouldn’t be able to handle all that. I’m doing this for your sake, so try and sound a bit more grateful.”

Whatever bratty remark you had to give afterward was silenced by the sound and feeling of a fat wad of his saliva coming into contact with your puckered entrance. A mild shiver and you could’ve sworn that the tips of your ears were redder than ever. It also didn’t help the fact that he began that languid stroking of his angry cockhead all along the crevice that he’d spread out so gracefully and politely.

Throaty grunts–some fading into soft, almost tender moans–fell on your ears in an increasing succession. It was enough to drive anyone far up the wall. Especially when he’d already given you such a clear-cut example and beautiful snippet of what was to come.

Almost on their own, your hips began to bounce back on him in the slight of chasing more of the friction that was your only–inadequate–sense of relief. “Aww, ‘s the matter, pretty boy?” Once again, that patronizing coo of his pet name stole a whimpered complaint from your mouth. It felt mostly on deaf ears with your face being so submerged into the plush. “Doesn’t this feel soo nice? Hm? Remember what we talked about..”

“I-it does..it feels..hah, amazing…” You’d meekly reply.

He cocked his head to the side, angling an eyebrow at you before planting an arm squarely beside your face, then using his free hand to guide your eyes up to his. “Buttt..”

“I told you..” It was then that Satoru got to see the true effect of all his ruthless teasing–you were already tearing up. His snow blues widened at the sight of the mild wetness that had begun to spring from your eyes and stain your cheeks. “..‘S not enough..I’m burning inside and you’re being fucking..mean.”

Oh, but how could he not?

The entire night, you’d been casting glances, slipping words under your breath and essentially leading him all the way on. It was–one of–the more irritating ‘jobs’ that he’d ever gotten but after having a taste of you..? Seeing how those pouty expressions became twisted and eventually fell away once you really started to feel it..how could he resist..?

“Ah, I see now..” he drawled, lining himself up once again. Luminous depths all muddled with lust and something just simply carnal lurking behind them, his breath hitched and so did yours when he slipped the tip in. As much as you wanted to recoil, he held your face there, clawed nails softly digging into your cheeks. Mouth hung open above yours, his lips just ghosted with the heat of his every exhale. “I’m sorry, baby..you must be in agony, huh..? You’ve already had such a bad night..”

Inch by inch, he watched with hawk-eyes the gradual descension of your facial expression–so needy, so fucking pathetic–alll because of him.

Oh, that was just the half of it.

From this angle, this position..fuck was he reaching deep. Deeper than before it felt–and even then, he didn’t stop until he was fit so snugly inside. “S-shit..might get fuckin’ addicted to this,” he huffed once again, then pressing his sweat-riddled chest against your fluttering spine. “Let me help you forget about all your problems..you deserve it. Just lie there, look good, and take everything I have to offer..”

With that low mutter, he sealed your lips together and kicked up his rhythm–obscene and just downright filthy sounds coming from the connection between the two of you. Instead of the grind he’d grown and nurtured beforehand, his hips were slamming into you, making that harsh slap each time that his pelvis pressed up against the fat of your ass. It was enough to have your legs trembling just a few minutes in.

Over and over and over, just fucking pounding you in. Your moans and gasps for air were all swallowed up into his slick maw as he dominated the kiss with ease. His tongue was mapping out each crevice of your mouth. As much as you thought he tasted sweet enough to make your dentist fly into a fury–he thought you tasted fucking divine.

“God-damn, holy–keep it arched like this..just like..ahh…” He began to roll his head back but just as he did, your hand came up, tugging him back down over you by one of his horns. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. A brief widening of his eyes and he was now hooking his big hands into the junctures of either of your hips, pulling you back with a harsh tug that made the precision of his thrusts seem all the more brutal.

One hand firmly clasped on the protrusion of his head, ever-adjusting, another scrunching up your poor pillow as yet another round of tremors rang out through your spine. Your lips were fallen open in such a blissed out way that all manners of sounds were coming from there. Ranging from, “Right there..! R-right fuckin’ ohhh..!” to strings of, “S-slow– mhn..! Can’t take..haah..” It was so endearing how you couldn’t even properly place what exactly it was that you really wanted.

Slithering a hand from its holster, he wrapped around, once again laying his chest on top of you but this time sinking his weight down into you in a way that made your body tense and you could’ve sworn you heard the zip! Signaling a short circuit in your brain when your prostate was dug into sooo fucking deliciously.

What definitely wasn’t helping were the fingers that had found your sorely forgotten shaft–left to leak endless strings of pre down onto your sheets as you were dicked down into them. Methodically twisting his wrist on the upstroke, he eventually noticed how your ass was rutting back against him, encouraging him to continue his relentless pursuit. “I can’t..hngh..make you out…” heavily panting, he began to leave the back of your neck and shoulders branded with the map of his sharp canines and incisors.

Another one of those hearty chuckles, just a little less throaty and more breathless than anything and he was kissing up along your shoulders. “You’re really something, y’know.”

“..‘Toru...”

“Yess, handsome?” That purr was enough to make you flush, maybe even a bit more than how he was literally jerking you off while keeping at a standstill inside.

Pulling your face up and out of the small huddle you’d made amongst your arms, you gave him that glossy-eyed look. Oh you felt him throb. “I’m..getting close again…”

“Oh yeah? Aaand..you’re getting close to..what, exactly?” Even now, he wasn’t letting up on his teasing, sliding his fist up to create a lewd squelching sound along your weeping tip. A careening moan stopped what you were going to say next but it was so cute to hear you struggle to form the most basic of sentences.

“..Fuck.. ‘m gonna cum..”

“Already?”

His response made your cheeks stain with crimson once more as you then coyly nodded along. “I want you to..cum with me…You didn’t before.”

God.

Maybe he was just turned on or maybe it was his heart melting, but that ignited something inside of Satoru that he couldn’t explain. All that you knew was that he was practically smothering you now, big, strong arms gathered around your head as he buried his face into the crook of your neck–fucking ramming his cock deeper and deeper with all due haste.

Your fingers came up to scratch at his biceps, clawing at the skin there as your voice grew louder and louder, more and more strained and finally being dulled out by the pillow whilst you were sent barreling over the edge. Incoherencies flowing from your mouth like a fountain–akin to how your dick was pumping out rope after rope of burning release onto the sheets. It didn’t help that even when your body grew rigid and you were shuddering through your climax–he kept going.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck..” Chanting over and over, each weighted slap of his balls up against your sore taint was plowing you through your already-powerful orgasm and straight into overstimulation. He would’ve been more gentle, would’ve stopped and maybe rubbed the rest out after you came but the way your hole was fucking clinging to him–as if begging him to stay–he knew that was a lost cause.

His breathing faltered, got caught in his throat a few times before he was whining in your ear. It was hard to make sense of, given your deliriousness and the fog that was beginning to mar your psyche but something along the lines of, “My name, f-fucking say my name..” he pleaded. “Wanna let this..whole fuckin’ neighborhood know who’s the first..who’s the best fuck you’ll ever have.”

In a blind state of compliance, you tried your hardest to follow his command.

“Satoru–”

“Fucking wrong.” He bit.

Trying again, you rolled your neck off to the side, resting your cheek down into his forearm as you helplessly mewled underneath him. So close already, his cock was pulsing inside of you with each rapidfire, short stroke he made. “Jesus fuckin’--ahh..! ‘Toru, ‘Toru..oh my fuck, ‘Toru..!” With how syrupy sweet his name sounded on your lips, it was no surprise at all when you felt the first spurts of cum begin to paint your insides when you said it.

‘Toru, Toru, Toru’ over and over--he rode out every last second of his climax with deep, guttural groans of your name, essentially returning the favor a bit. By this point, your mind was already swamped with pleasure that had long since had your eyes simply rolling. That burn had begun to dim down and it seemed as though he was spent as well–for the most part.

Basking in that pretty afterglow, he finally let some of his weight stop pinning you down to the mattress and opted for leisurely laying on top of you. “Hey, not too bad at all for a first timer.” like a switch was flipped, he was right back to his casual, smug demeanor. Still out of breath but steadily regaining his senses, he brushed back a few strands from your face before letting his softening shaft slip out. Teasing the tip a bit before the pop! rang out, almost immediately his load started to drip down your thighs.

Only then did you let your hips sink back down with an unceremonious fall.

He glanced over the sight with rapt attention–he couldn’t help but glide his fingers through the mess he’d made of you. You felt a small shiver run up your spine when he did, lifting your head up and off of the pillow just enough to look back at him through your tousled locks. “Seriously, Satoru?”

“Aww, what? I liked it when I was ‘Toru’.” He’d whined with a feigned look of dejection.

Rolling your eyes, you turned over on your back and to your surprise–the mark was gone. “Hey, where did–”

“It’s temporary,” Cutting you off just a bit, he smiled. “I came inside, I helped you out, anddd..my job is done.”

Slowly but surely, you watched all of his otherworldly features begin to retreat–his horns disappearing back into his hair, wings folding up and sliding back into place inside his shoulder blades. It looked..painful, but he hadn’t really flinched.

“Does that not..hurt at all..?” You inquired, gesturing toward the clear expanse of skin where his horns had been before.

All he did was shrug it off, bringing a hand up to his neck as he scratched the back of it lightly. “Huh..? Ah, I guess not. It’s sort of like..when humans naturally lose teeth. Orrr, growing and cutting off nails.”

“Kinda gross.”

“You didn’t seem to find any part of me gross a few moments ago,” Swinging his long legs off to the side of the bed, he leaned down to tug his pants back on, keeping his belt messily undone. In another moment, he stalked over to your bathroom and you sat up a bit straighter, pulling your legs into yourself a bit. Your face fell as you thought it was simply over just like that. Well, until he came back with a towel from the cabinet. “Humans are so odd. Keeping towels in such places–they go on racks.” he’d grumbled as he made his way over to you.

Stepping back into frame, he saw the way your face was just a few seconds away from tearing up. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re hurt somewhere..” his features fell somber as he cupped your face, tilting it upward to look back at him.

“N-no it’s..nothing.”

He gave a harsh scoff and once again pulled that smug smirk. “Uhuh. ‘Nothing’ my sweet ass. Talk to me, pretty boy.”

“I just thought..you’d stay a while longer.” Your eyes sideswiped away from his and all Satoru could do was smile even harder, dragging your face to his lips. Peppering kisses wherever his mouth could reach, you soon felt your face growing hotter. “Fuck–quit it..! What’s up with you-?”

Once again, another burst of laughter and he tugged away, unfurling the towel and wiping down all of your sullied limbs and taking extra time to tend to where he’d been paying the most attention beforehand. Knelt in front of you, cleaning off your inner thighs, he was humming lowly to himself. Your fingers carded through his white head of hair enough for him to look up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Is this the part where you say ‘I love you’ and you ask me to stay the night?”

“You ruined the moment, so..I’ll skip over the first part and just say thanks for helping me not be an adult virgin anymore.” You remarked with a small flick of his forehead.

Shrugging, he chimed back, “So I can still stay over?”

“Of course–my couch is always open for freeloaders.”

That was enough for him to know where he stood and get back to cleaning up his mess.

A/N: Kind of my debut into this scene..! You lot showed so much love to the mlist alone! I hope I characterized my precious ‘Toru’ well, I took inspiration. More on the way—enjoy the first commandment. 🧧

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woso-story · 2 days ago

Text

The Weight Of Love And Loss - Part Four

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Part One Two Three Five

The morning of the meeting, your nerves felt like they were eating you alive. Every step toward the café felt heavier than the last, as though the gravity of your decision was pulling you back. For days, you’d debated whether to come at all. You’d imagined every possible outcome: Alexia apologizing, Alexia blaming you, Alexia trying to win you back. But no matter how much you rehearsed your responses, nothing prepared you for the reality of seeing her again.

The café was quiet as you approached. It was early, not many people around. Through the glass, you could see Alexia already sitting at your old table, her back slightly hunched, her hands wrapped tightly around a mug.

For a moment, you stopped in your tracks. Memories of the two of you flooded your mind—happy days spent in this exact spot, laughing, dreaming, planning your future together. The air had always been warm with love back then. But now? Now it felt like that love was gone, leaving only bitterness and heartbreak behind.

You inhaled deeply and pushed open the door.

---

The bell above the door jingled softly, drawing Alexia’s attention. She looked up, her eyes meeting yours instantly, and she stood, as if she wasn’t sure whether to stay seated or greet you. She hesitated before giving a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hi,” she said quietly. Her voice was small, unsure, and it tugged at your heart in a way you weren’t ready for.

“Hi,” you replied curtly. No warmth, no familiarity. Just the distance you’d carefully built since the day you walked out of her apartment.

“Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?” she offered, almost nervously.

You shook your head. “No. Let’s just get this over with.”

The words were sharp, but you needed them to be. You needed to protect yourself, to keep the walls you’d built from crumbling the moment she looked at you with those pleading eyes.

Alexia flinched slightly but nodded, sitting back down. You followed, keeping your distance, your arms crossed defensively as you waited for her to start.

---

The silence between you stretched on painfully. Alexia fidgeted with her mug, her eyes darting between you and the table. You resisted the urge to fill the void, to make it easier for her. This was her meeting, her chance to explain. You weren’t going to make it easier for her.

Finally, you sighed, irritation creeping into your voice. “If you’re not going to say anything, I’m leaving. I don’t have time to sit here in silence.”

“No—wait,” she blurted out, her voice breaking slightly. She looked up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But I need to try.”

---

Alexia took a deep breath, her hands clasped tightly together as if trying to hold herself together. “I’m sorry for everything. For the way I treated you. For shutting you out. For not listening. I thought I was doing the right thing, trying to focus on getting better, but...I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you in the process.”

You stayed silent, your expression unreadable.

“When I got injured, I felt like everything I’d worked for my whole life was slipping away,” she continued, her voice cracking. “Football isn’t just a job for me—it’s who I am. And losing that...I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was angry, scared, lost. And instead of letting you help me, I pushed you away. I thought I could handle it on my own. But I couldn’t.”

Her voice broke completely now, tears streaming down her face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear, I didn’t. But I did, and I hate myself for it. I hate that I made you feel like you didn’t matter, because you do. You always did. You’re...you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I ruined it.”

---

Her words hit you harder than you expected. For months, you’d begged her to open up, to tell you how she felt. And now, here she was, pouring her heart out—but it was too late.

“You’re right,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “You did ruin it.”

Alexia flinched as if you’d slapped her, but you didn’t stop.

“I tried, Alexia. I tried so hard to be there for you, to support you, to love you. But you didn’t let me. Every time I tried to talk to you, you shut me out. Every time I needed you, you weren’t there. And do you know how that felt? To feel like I was invisible? Like I didn’t matter?”

Tears were streaming down your face now, but you didn’t bother wiping them away. “You broke my heart, Alexia. Piece by piece, over months. And I can’t just forget that.”

---

Alexia sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking as she tried to compose herself. “I know,” she whispered. “I know I messed up. But...please. Please give me another chance. I’ll do better. I’ll change. Just...don’t give up on us.”

You shook your head, your heart aching at the sight of her so broken. “It’s not that simple, Alexia. You hurt me. And I don’t think I can trust you not to do it again.”

Her face crumpled, and she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob.

“I think we need time,” you continued, your voice shaking. “Time to heal. Separately.”

Alexia’s tears fell freely now, her shoulders shaking as she cried. “I can’t do this without you,” she whispered. “You’re my rock. You always have been.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Your rock? I felt more like your punching bag these last few months. I took every hit, Alexia. Every argument, every hurtful comment, every time you brushed me off. I took it all. And I broke because of it.”

She sobbed quietly, her hands trembling as she reached for yours. “I’ll fix it. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just...don’t leave me.”

You took her hands in yours, your heart aching at the sight of her so broken. “You need help, Alexia. Real help. Talk to a sports psychologist. Work through everything you’re feeling. Because I can’t be the one to fix this for you. I tried, and it nearly destroyed me.”

Her tears fell harder, but she nodded slowly, her grip on your hands tightening.

After a moment Alexia’s sobs quieted, and she wiped at her face with shaking hands. “So...that’s it?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“For now,” you said softly. “You need time to heal. And so do I. We can’t do that together.”

She nodded slowly, her tears falling silently now. “Is there still a chance for us? Someday?”

You hesitated, your heart breaking all over again. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But if it’s meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other. For now, we have to let go.”

Her face crumpled, but she managed a small, shaky smile. “Okay,” she whispered.

You stood, your heart heavy as you looked at her one last time. “Take care of yourself, Alexia,” you said gently.

“You too,” she replied, her voice trembling.

And with that, you walked away, leaving behind the woman you once thought you’d spend forever with.

As you stepped out into the crisp morning air, a single thought ran through your mind: Maybe someday.

But for now, you needed to heal. Alone.

#alexia putellas x reader #woso community #woso #barca femeni #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia x reader #woso fics #woso x reader #alexia putellas #woso fanfics

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kiestrokes · 2 days ago

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Day 21: Star Lost | NSFW

▸ Idol: Lee Felix of SKZ ▸ Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. ▸ Genre: WIP, smut, neighbor's to lovers AU. ▸ Vibe: This is a much further excerpt of an eventual smut, gamer/model!Felix that is incredibly loosely (and lovingly) inspired by the comic Let's Play by Leeanne Krecic. ▸ Warnings: language, beginnings of an established relationship, brief body insecurity.

Sexually Explicit Content: slight body worship, encouraging Felix, morning after sex, sexual intercourse (penis in vagina), sight orgasm control, soft dom!Lix (I wrote this for @chans-room and their dom!Lix agenda), multiple orgasms,

🗝️ Note: Has not beta-ed by me or anyone else. THIS IS A WIP! (it is wipmas) It is not complete; this is very much a rough outline/first run through. Sorry its late, I am fucking exhausted at the tail end of this holiday season.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

「 25 Hours: Hard, Soft and WIP-mas Masterlist 」

You’re woken up the next day, nude and draped across his body. You go to move and Felix grumbles. Tugging you up his body for some lazy morning kisses that quickly escalate. He guides your hips to straddle him as you fumble around for a shirt.

“What are you doing?” Lix rumbles as he kisses your jaw.

“I need a shirt if I’m going to be on top.”

“No you don’t, I want to see you. If you're comfortable with that...”

You nod, the nervousness quickly being overtaken as his hands glide up your stomach to cup a breast while the other guides his cock to tease your entrance.

“Sit back a little,” Felix breaks off into a gasp as you instantly comply, his eyebrows converging as you tilt your hips to sink onto his length.

“Ugh fuck-” you shudder, bracing your hands on his chest to roll your hips to nestle him inside.

Your neck snaps back at the feeling, breasts thrusting forward in his face.

Felix grunts in approval, “again.”

You do, again and again until you chance a glance at Felix his eyes flicking between your working pelvis and breasts.

He feels your eyes on him and meets your gaze “you’re so beautiful.”

Heat crests across your cheeks as his baritone of approval goes straight to your cunt.

You widen your knees, watching as Felix clenches his teeth. Hissing. His hands dig into the flesh of your ass and valley where your thigh meets your hip. Urging your forward, quicker with a brute strength that still amazes you.

“That’s it,” he bucks up into you and you toss your head as his cock hits that one spot perfectly again and again.

Felix laughs softly, leaning forward to nuzzle his face between your breasts. Hand gliding up your back between your shoulder blades to grasp a fistful of your hair at the nape of your neck. You cry out, body shuddering at the sensation as Felix drives his his hips upwards, thighs slapping lewdly into your ass.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes!” You whine.

“Good,” Felix sighs long and ragged as your bodies drive towards a mutual release.

His hand in your hair tightens and you moan at the feeling, his lips teases your ear as he whispers, “want you to come all over me, before I lay you down. Can you do that?”

Felix ducks his head to lick one softened nipple sending it into a stiff peak before repeating the same to the other.

“Yes,” your hips stutter as the rubber band of pleasure pulls tight, too tight.

“Look at me,” you do as you shake with tension, nails embedding in his back as you start to fall apart.

His piercing gaze, the usually massive pools of warm chestnut have been overtaken by an abyss of black as his pupils are blown wide displaying his blatant lust for you.

“Oh!”

The same intense tension that made your body shudder, causes your body to fall limp, but Felix has you. Laying you down and slowly stroking you through the reverberations of your orgasm.

His own body tense as he holds off his release, seeking more from you first. To feel you clench and gush around his stiff dick. To feel your body heat up and radiate against his. Felix moans at the thought, sitting back on his calves to circle his hips against yours.

You glance at his stomach, his abdomen littered with your release and understand. He did that. You did that.

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planetpedri · 3 days ago

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No surprises 𖦹 Pedri González !

summary. pedri felt drained, his job sucking the life out of him with every loss —but you, his god given solace, was always there to give him a quiet, loving break.

word count. 1.09k

disclaimers. angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, and happy ending.

bea speaks! fcb when i catch you...

The ride home from the stadium was silent. The hum of the engine and the occasional buzz from either of your phones were the only sounds filling the between you and Pedri. He hadn’t spoken a singular word since you’d left, since the realization that, once again, his efforts had not been enough.

You glance at him, his profile illuminated by the passing street lamps. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips pulled into a thin line. He wasn’t hiding his disappointment, his sunken eyes and tight face only showcasing his exhaustion more. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles growing white.

“Pedri..” you say softly, reaching over to rest your hand on his arm.

He flinches at your touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Not now, cariño.” Pedri murmurs, his voice hoarse.

Leaning back against the seat, you chew on your bottom lip. You wanted to say something, anything, to pull him out of this spiral you knew he was going down—but you knew better. Pedri’s silence was his own way of holding himself together, insuring he wouldn’t break the moment he let himself express his hurt.

This wasn’t even the first time you’d seen him like this. Losing wan’t foreign to Barcelona. Not to mention the string of loses this season alone and the endless criticism from the fans and media. He bore the crushing weight of carrying the team that seemed to feel more broken with every match since October. But now, it was wearing him down completely.

When he finally pulled into the driveway of your shared home, Pedri parked, sitting motionless in his seat. He eventually dropped his hands into his lap after shutting off the car, exhaling a shaky breath and your heart broke at the sound.

“Lets go inside.” You urge quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

Silently, Pedri nodded, his movements slow and heavy as he walked beside to you into the house. Once inside, he found the couch, instantly slumping into it and burying his face into his hands.

Eyes softening, you kneel in front of him, prying his hands away. The sight in front of you would’ve made even the strongest man weep. His eyes were glossy, his lashes wet with unshed tears. “Pedri,” you whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, “talk to me, please?”

The dark haired man shook his head, jaw tightening. “What is there to say? Another loss, another fucking failure.”

“You’re not a failure,” you say firmly, eyebrows knitting together.

He lets out a bitter laugh at your words, sending a course of pain through your heart. “Tell that to everyone else. To the fans. To the team, who, by the way, can’t seem to keep it together. Oh, and to the club who expects everything from me.”

Frowning, you cup his face, making him look directly at you. His eyes search yours, desperate and pleading. “You are human, you are allowed to feel this way, but you are not allowed to believe that you are not enough. You are. These loses? They are not on you. They happen, and you can come back from them. You are not the only player on the team, this isn’t your fault.”

He lets out a ragged breath, leaning into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I’m tired.” He admits, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It feels like everything—the team and all, it’s falling apart and I just don’t know how to fix it.”

You are quiet for a second, eyes flickering around his face. He looked dejected, taking all the blame and stuffing it into himself and it is suffocating him.

“You don’t have to fix it alone. You have a team, Pedri. And you also have me. Let me help you carry this, let me be here for you.” Your thumbs graze his cheekbones, like the touch alone could press the words into his brain, forcing him to let it go, and let you in.

Your boyfriends eyes close slowly, a singular tear finally escaping his eyes. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice broken and weary.

Shaking your head, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You deserve everything in the world, baby. And I will always be here to remind you of that.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. His head fell to rest on your shoulder, and you held him like that, hoping the small moment would ground him. And it did, Pedri felt himself calming down. His breaths evened out and his shoulders relaxed.

Inhaling your scent, feeling your soft breaths against him, the way your hand slowly rubbed up and down his back—it made him feel okay for the first time since the loss.

“I scored tonight,” he sighed after the long silence, his voice an octave above a whisper. Despite the achievement, a lingering sense of disappointment was still in his voice.

“I know,” you hum, running your hand up his back to rest on the nape of his neck. “I was a beautiful goal.”

“But it doesn’t matter.”

You could groan.

“Doesn’t matter? It mattered to me.” Your lips form a tight frown. He was so hard on himself. Beating himself up over things that he should be proud of.

“Pedri, you got the man of the match. You were incredible, you always are. You scored a goal and gave your team hope. Sure, you lost. But, you still were amazing and you deserve to feel the pride from it.” Your words felt weak in comparison to how badly you wanted to comfort him, to assure him—but for Pedri, it meant everything.

He looked back to you then, his eyes softening. His heart felt warm, your touch was still warm, you were always the one there for him—comforting him. He loved you for it.

The burdening weight on his chest seemed to finally lift, if only slightly. “Thank you,” he murmured, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from your face. “I love you.”

A smile lifts on your lips and your forehead rests against his. “Of course, and I love you.”

As the night wore on, and you were finally in bed together, you were his grounding point. The weight of your head on his shoulder, your legs tangled in his and your arms wrapped around him, it kept him comforted. In the quiet of the bedroom, you were his solace, always.

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @joaoflms @sakashq @h4vertzz @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie @cececarmona17

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri gonzalez x fem!reader #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez fluff #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri gonzalez angst #pedri gonzalez x y/n #blurb #hurt/comfort #angst to comfort #angst to happy ending #football #fluff #fanfic #fc barcelona #fc barcelona fic

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4linos · 2 days ago

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the gingerbread fix.

kim seungmin x gn!reader

synopsis: after seungmin unintentionally ruins the gingerbread house you’ve worked hard on, the two of you rebuild together, learning the importance of compromise and enjoying the process.

wc: 989

part 5/8 holiday series. 🎄

The week before Christmas, you’d come up with a fun idea, a gingerbread house decorating competition. You were excited about it, knowing that you and Seungmin could have a fun, festive time together. You’d gathered everything, the gingerbread kits, icing, sprinkles, and candy. It was going to be a lighthearted and playful competition to see who could create the best house, but you didn’t anticipate just how seriously you’d take it.

The night of the competition arrived, and the air was filled with a delicious smell of sugar and gingerbread. Seungmin was enthusiastic at at first, but when it came to decorating, he turned into the class clown. You concentrated on the house, carefully decorating every inch, placing the candy, and ensuring the frosting stayed neatly piped. Meanwhile, Seungmin slapped some frosting here and there, paying little attention to any kind of structure.

With each passing minute, you became more focused. You couldn't help yourself, it wasn't just about winning; it was about doing something special, showing that you cared about doing it right. Seungmin, on the other hand, was having a good time, nonchalantly bothering you as he randomly added candy canes and took nibbles out of the candy pieces. Every time you looked over, he gave you a grin, as if the whole thing was a joke to him. You tried to hold back your increasing frustration, but it came out when Seungmin, chuckling to himself, leaned over and touched your gingerbread house, just to tease you.

The whole thing crumbled.

You froze, staring in disbelief at the pile of crumbled gingerbread. Your heart dropped. You'd worked so hard to make that house perfect, and now it was ruined. Seungmin, still chuckling, stared up at you with wide eyes. He hadn't realized how serious you were about this. "Seungmin," you asked, your voice tight with rage. "What did you do?" His face fell, and he moved back. "Wait, I didn't mean to—" "No! "I've been working on this for hours, and you just…ruined it," you snapped, your words coming out harder than intended. His expression showed guilt, but the frustration was too much.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice genuine. “I didn’t mean to mess it up. I was just joking around…”

You shook your head, biting back the anger and disappointment welling up inside you. “I don’t need you to joke around. I thought this was supposed to be fun, but now you’ve ruined it.”

Seungmin stood there, looking helpless. “I didn’t realize you were taking it so seriously.”

You folded your arms across your chest, hurt. “It’s not about that, Seungmin. It’s just… I wanted this to be something special. I wanted to share something with you, but instead you made me feel like it didn’t matter.”

The room fell silent for a minute. Seungmin, for the first time all night, looked completely serious. "I'm really sorry. "I didn't mean to hurt you." He hesitated, then looked down at the mess on the table. "I’ll fix it. "I promise." You didn't respond immediately away, the anger still simmering, but you were beginning to feel the sting of guilt yourself. You snapped at him when he didn't deserve it. You were frustrated and disappointed, but it didn't mean he deserved to be on the receiving end of it.

Later that evening, you went to the kitchen to grab a snack, still giving Seungmin the silent treatment. You were hurt, but you didn’t want to escalate things further. But as you opened the fridge, you heard him come in behind you.

"Sit down," he urged gently, putting you onto the table. "We're not giving up on this." Before you could argue, he had left the room, returning shortly after with two new gingerbread house kits and an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry for messing around," he said cautiously, placing the boxes on the table. "Let's do it properly this time, together." You sighed, but couldn't keep the slight smile tugging at the edges of your lips. Despite everything, he was trying. He really was.

“Okay, fine,” you said, sitting back down. “Let’s do it again.”

So the two of you began again, this time more focused and serious. Seungmin, who had not been trying too hard before, now worked quietly beside you, delicately piped the icing, and set the candies with care. His gingerbread house was still a little disorganized, but there was something adorable about how hard he worked to improve things.

As the night progressed, you both began to relax. Your frustration gradually faded away, replaced with laughter as you giggled about how horrible Seungmin's house was looking. Even his decorating attempts failed miserably, but you couldn't help but laugh at how hard he was trying. "You're not winning this time," you mocked, staring at his house, which was leaning to one side and consisted of more sweets than actual construction. Seungmin grumbled, obviously dejected but taking it in stride. "Alright, fine. "I’ll let you win."

You grinned, finally feeling the tension dissipate. “Thanks for letting me win. That’s very generous of you.”

Seungmin smiled sheepishly, giving you a playful shove. “I’m just happy we’re not fighting anymore.”

You both sat back, looking at your respective gingerbread houses, your hearts lighter than they had been earlier. “I’m sorry, too,” you said, your voice soft. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I was just really excited about this.”

He smiled at you, and the warmth in his gaze made you forget about the previous tension. "It's okay. I'm just glad we're doing this together." "Yeah," you replied, leaning against him. "Next year, though, we're definitely doing this seriously." Seungmin laughed and wrapped his arm around you. "Next year, we'll have an even bigger competition. But for now, let us just enjoy this." And with that, you both giggled together, enjoying the moment while the Christmas lights flickered softly in the backdrop.

[taglist: @lixies-favorite-cookie..]

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kiryoutann · 17 hours ago

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Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

The decision to start your busy day with a 20-ounce coffee from the local coffee shop instead of your usual brew bites you in the ass as you hunch over in one of the bathroom stalls ten minutes before rehearsal begins. It exacerbates the already twisting sensation of your period cramps, sending a cold sweat down your temples. But it’s not like you have a choice—it’s only a week until the big performance, and you really need that extra boost to get through the day.

Knowing hands reach into the duffel bag at your feet, searching for the familiar edges of your phone. Pulling it out, the screen comes to life, unimportant notifications displayed. The clock revealed you only had five minutes left before you needed to leave.

You open the text app, not expecting anything really—you always know if he’s texted or not. The last few messages between you had all been initiated by you – a thank you, a hopeful “Hope you’re doing okay.” But his replies remained void, the "delivered" text staring back at you, mocking your attempts to reach out.

Switching to the “Find My” app, you searched for your other device. The last known location, before the device probably ran out of battery, was somewhere outside of London—a different city. A simple Google search reveals it to be a street lined with pubs and apartments, and his consistent coordinates say that’s where he lived.

This means you’ll have to wait a little longer for him.

Without further thought, you put your phone away, shouldering your duffel bag then. The reflection in the mirror greets you as you exit the stall, following your movements as you neatly arrange the loose strands of hair that had escaped your bun.

Just as you are about to turn away, the sound of a stall door clicking open catches your attention. Through the mirror, you meet Claudine's gaze, her lips automatically pulling into a smirk.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the ‘Miss Robot Queen’ herself,” she drawled as she sidled up next to you to wash her hands. You watched her, biting the inside of your cheek like you always do when you’re holding back words stuck in your throat. “How’s practice going, hm? The show’s in a week, you know.”

Shame crept up on you, threatening to consume you before suddenly giving way to something new—something that shifted inside you. The sensation was foreign—a burn that seemed to emanate from the center of your chest, radiating outwards. Your knuckles paled as you clenched your fists. The words turned sour, irritating your tonsils and—

You felt the urge to spit them out. At Claudine.

The woman carelessly tossed her paper towel into the bin. Looking in the mirror again, looking at you. “Break a leg, prima ballerina.” She blew you a mocking kiss, then walked towards the door to leave the bathroom.

“If it’s true what you said,”

Your voice echoed through the four walls, stopping Claudine in her tracks. Turning to face her, she did the same but looking quite shocked, for reasons unknown.

“If it’s true what you said, that I’m just a ‘robot ballerina’… then what does that make you?”

How uncharacteristic of those words to come out of your mouth. Claudine could hardly believe it—she continued to furrow her brows in disbelief as she tried to make sense of it all. A flicker of uncertainty crossing her features as she processed your bold sentence. Were you expecting silence instead, Claudine? Like before?

And then, there it is—hurt laid bare beneath just one thin layer of her skin, her insecurities swimming to the surface. For someone who constantly underestimated you, she was a fragile one. If the roles were reversed, she wouldn't have survived for nearly as long as you had.

Claudine tried to gather her composure, playing the tough girl, but her efforts were derailed as her breath began to stutter. “D-Do you think you’re all that now? Just because you got the role, you think you can talk to me like that?” Listen to that; even your voice is shaking.

“Do you always think you’re all that? Is that why you act the way you do?”

There was a crack in Claudine’s scoff. She pulled her lips into what she attempted to be a mocking smile, but the single tear that fell acted as a contrast. Hastily, she wiped it away, taking a heaving breath.

"Don't you know?" she started. “They made me your alternate. So if something happens to you, I'll be the one dancing as the Swan Queen.”

Everything went abruptly silent.

Alternate? What did she mean by ‘alternate’? You knew what an alternate was—you knew there was always an alternate. But why Claudine? Why did it have to be Claudine? It felt like a betrayal, but you also knew it was part of the norm. But they could have chosen someone else—Mary, Sophia, or anyone else who wasn’t Claudine. All this time, she had been waiting, hoping for you to falter, to fail—just so she could swoop in and claim the role that you had worked so hard for.

If anything happens to you, she’ll be the Swan Queen.

If anything happens to you.

“There won’t be anything happening,” you say, voice full of conviction as if the future is already guaranteed. “I can make sure of that.”

Without waiting for a reply, you snatched up your things and walked past her. The door slams behind you, drawing the curious gazes of other dancers who lined the walls. You lengthened your strides to reach the rehearsal room.

You push open the door, greeted by the familiar sound of the piano and the director’s voice guiding the corps de ballet. Henri notices the new arrival, turning his gaze to you.

“Ah, here’s our Swan Queen!” He exclaims, clapping his hands to gain everyone’s attention. “Let’s take our places!”

Swallowing hard, you try to calm your pounding heart. The other dancers start running to take their places, tutus swaying like water lilies. The pianist turns the sheet music to the front page. You take a deep breath before approaching.

Yes, you thought to yourself.

I am the Swan Queen.

The dark, dramatic notes of Black Swan Coda fill the air as you launch into the 32 fouettés. You continue to stretch your extension, fixing your eyes on one spot to anchor your spinning. The burn in your calf muscles intensifies, but you must keep going.

As the music comes to a close, you end the sequence with a finishing pose. The rehearsal crew erupts into thunderous applause, but you barely register any of that as you collapse to the floor, body succumbing to the cramps. You let out a hiss of pain, your fingers digging into the taut muscle.

“Are you alright?” Henri’s French-accented voice rings out as he approaches you.

You nod, brushing him off with a wave of your hand. “Just cramps.”

Henri regarded you for a moment, a faint frown on his forehead, before nodding slightly. “Okay, you take a break then. The rest of you, let’s take 10 and we’ll continue!”

The rest of the crew dispersed to their respective breaks, leaving the once bustling rehearsal room in a comfortable silence. You gently massaged your calves, trying to loosen the tense muscles underneath. Turning to the empty seats, you thought of the plush velvet version of it—the one in the grand hall where you would perform. In your mind, you had imagined those seats occupied by an eager audience, the balconies filled with those who had been fans of this kind of spectacle since their youth.

In the audience, there will be the dancers’ families and lovers—which means yours too. You’re sure your mother won’t be there, but Simon will be, just as he promised.

Making your way to where your duffel bag is, you sit down right next to the mirror. You reach for your water bottle, gulping it, closing your eyes as the cool liquid washes down your parched throat.

Untying the ribbons of your pointe shoes, you couldn’t help but hiss as the satin brushed against your skin. The relentless hours of practice, classes, and rehearsals revealed results you thought you’d grown accustomed to over the years—peeling skin, friction blisters on your pinky toes, the once-fresh Band-Aid now worn.

Rummaging through your duffel bag, you retrieve the burn pads, carefully peeling off the adhesive backing and applying them around the worst one. The cool, soothing sensation against your skin was a welcome relief; the throbbing ache numbed. You grab the duct tape, wrapping it around to secure everything in place while also effectively substituting for toe pads. Satisfied, you slipped back into your pointe.

Rehearsal resumed in ten, just as Henri promised.

And you’re home by eight.

The door closed with a heavy thud behind you, the familiar sound of mud crunching under your shoes as you stepped out onto the wet streets. But your attention was focused solely on the lifeless notification of your cellphone; your fingers scrolled through your unanswered messages.

Still nothing from Simon.

You type another text: “Simon, it's been weeks. I'm starting to get worried. Are you okay?” and hit send. Both frustration and worry start to color your brain. Is he busy? Didn't he read your messages? Or is he ignoring you on purpose? But everything is fine even after he drops you off—no arguments, nothing. Did he lose his phone, then? Is he in trouble, trapped, or being held hostage—

Stop. You've watched too many movies.

But now that you think about it—about the possibilities of why he hasn’t responded to any of your messages or even given any sign that he’s alive—your chest tightens.

Where are you, Simon?

The sound of raucous laughter from a group of men nearby causes you to shove your phone back into your coat pocket. Quickening your pace, you make your way down the familiar route to the subway. You went down the stairs with the sound of your boots stomping. The rumble of the approaching train echoed through the station, and you stepped onto the car, sinking into an empty seat.

Leaning your head back against the cool window, you feel the weight of exhaustion settle over you. Your calves ache, and your shoulders pop as you roll them. You know better than to close your eyes from fear of missing your stop, but everything feels heavy.

Where are you, Simon?

Lately, the days have been a blur, like a hazy dream you're not really a part of. When tomorrow turns into today, you go on with your routine based only on muscle memory that's been forged over the years.

Learning from your mistakes, you go back to your usual brew – two teaspoons of instant coffee. Sitting at the dining table, you gather your wits, letting your body adjust to the morning chill. Once you’ve reached the bottom of your cup, you stand up, make a beeline to the bathroom, and turn on the shower. Stepping out, you slip into your tights before sitting on your yoga mat and starting to stretch.

You bent forward, fingertips brushing the floor as you stretched your hamstrings. Holding the pose, you focus on your breathing rhythm, feeling the expansion of your lungs and the gentle pull in your spine before releasing and transitioning into the next movement.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your arms high, feeling the tension in your waist and—ding!

You quickly snatch your phone, hoping, praying, that it was finally Simon. But as you stared at the screen, your hopes were dashed; it was from a fast food restaurant promoting their latest deal. Not a message from Simon. Your chat room is still the same as you left it yesterday, the day before that, and the weeks that preceded it. No message from Simon, again. The same absence greeted you. Again.

The big performance is just a matter of days away. On that day, all the hard work, the fruits of your practices, all the blood, sweat, and tears that dripped will be unveiled on the prestigious opera stage that you've always dreamed of dancing on as a prima ballerina. You have grown out of the corps—in this Swan Lake, you will be Odette. You will be Odile. Her 32 fouettés will be yours. But—

But, why?

Simon didn’t reply to your text. Is he not coming? Does that promise mean nothing to him? Was it just one he knew he would break, but he gave it to you anyway because it was the least he could do to a woman he just had sex with?

No, why would you think of him that way? You berate the voice in your head. He always comes back in the end, so stop saying that about him.

The need to satisfy the nagging uncertainty inside you was overwhelming, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you typed out a new message. It didn't matter if it ended up sitting unread among the pile of unseen messages. The important thing was it was out there, that you had sent it. He would read it once he was done with whatever occupied his time.

As you hit send, the whoosh! sound of the message being sent is heard. Just as you’re about to put your phone back down and continue stretching, a small icon pops up next to the green chat bubble. A red exclamation mark in a circle.

“Not Delivered” is displayed underneath.

Your eyes darted frantically to the top of the screen, taking in the full signal bars and the indication that your service was working properly. So what happened? Why isn't it delivered? The questions swim around like restless organisms at the forefront of your mind. Gluing your eyes to the screen until it hurts, you keep waiting, hoping, praying that the status would change. But that dreaded exclamation mark remains, mocking you, taunting you with its presence.

Why? Why wasn’t it going through? Had something happened to Simon? Was he okay?

You tried to rationalize it. If it's not from you, it's definitely from his side then. Maybe he had wandered into an area with poor reception, or he had traveled somewhere with spotty service. Yes, that had to be it. Isn't that what military wives are always complaining about?

Despite knowing that wasn’t how it worked, you persisted. It was always easy to turn away from reality. Not the first time you’d settled for the comfort of a ruse.

Putting your phone aside, you demanded your focus return to your stretching routine. You tried to push the "Not Delivered" notification to the back of your mind where you could avoid facing it. But a girl in love could only do so much—to pretend it wasn’t forming a hole in your skull, questions forcing their way in despite the lack of answers.

Hours later, you find yourself back in the same rehearsal room, with the same Black Swan coda playing in the background. Your muscles burned with the strain of the same 32 fouettés, but you kept going, kept pushing yourself because that’s all you knew.

Because you are the Swan Queen.

You are the Swan Queen, and yet you’re slipping away. Your body moved through the steps, but your mind was a million miles away. In the background, Henri’s voice is almost drowned out by the orchestra—but the second time, he screams louder. Both fall on deaf ears. He screams about how you’ve fallen into the same old hole—

But you're not sure which one he means: your soulless dancing—the robot ballerina making her comeback once again—or your bad habit of tightening your grip on something you can’t keep?

Each spin, each leap, each extension of your limbs should be proof of how far you’ve come. But this? This looks like a restart—Henri lets out a ragged breath.

The piano stops playing. The whole room is silent.

You know you should be worried—your heart should be pounding in dread of what he has in store. Henry is going to orchestrate public humiliation against you in front of your fellow dancers and crew members, but then again, you can’t find it in yourself to blame him. In fact, he has every right to be. He has risked so much for this play, only to have the prima ballerina he personally chose to dethrone him into the abyss.

Without a word, Henri waved his hand, and the crew knew to immediately clear the room. They shuffled out, some in relief for the sudden short break, some casting curious glances over their shoulders, probably eager to witness your downfall.

But you felt nothing. Just this dull, numb sensation that almost made you unable to feel your own heartbeat. Even when you knew you should be scared of Henri’s berating or even the threat that he would replace you with someone else, you felt nothing.

Henri stepped closer, his brows furrowed in anger. “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas? C'était quoi ce bordel?!” What’s wrong? What the fuck was that?! he demanded, the French coming out thick and heavy. “You were doing so well! The play is tomorrow and you’re falling apart!” He threw his hands up in exasperation, fingers tangling through his salt-and-pepper hair.

“GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!! We can’t afford to lose, not now! Not when we’re so close!”

Something inside you suddenly snapped into focus. Your eyes widened as a realization fell.

So close. After all this time—all that you two went through—you couldn't afford to lose him now. Not when you two are so close to being together, to finally have a chance. You couldn't afford to lose him now.

After the disastrous rehearsal, you waste no time. You are already on your phone, searching for Simon's name before pressing the call button. With heart pounding in anticipation, you waited, but it wasn't a long wait until a voice answered.

A voice that wasn't Simon's.

“We’re sorry; the number you are trying to reach is no longer in service.”

Instantly, the numbness lifted before it all crashed. Your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach, and you felt something acidic creeping up your throat, threatening to choke you. Hands trembling, you lowered the phone, staring at the screen in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. There had to be some mistake.

You quickly dialed the number again, praying it was just an error—a temporary disconnection that you’ve been having problems with since this morning.

“We’re sorry; the number you are trying to reach is no longer in service.”

The world around you seemed to tilt and sway. Pain coursed through the back of your neck, making its home in the nape of your neck. Taking ragged breaths, your mind raced as you tried to make sense of it all.

What happened?

The ache reaches the back of your head, and you reach up to grasp the tight bun that contained your hair. Your rough grip undoing the pins in one pull. You grab a fistful of your strands and yank, hoping to relieve the tension.

What happened? You keep asking yourself. The unanswered message, the failed one.. And now, the number was out of service? Your heart pounded in fear, a thousand scenarios playing through your mind. What happened?

Did something happen to him?

Was he on deployment, and the worst had happened?

Had he been hurt, or worse?

Simon has been an enigma since the moment you met. But not this, don’t let this be. Please, I need you to be okay. I can’t lose you, not now, please.

Crouching on the side of a London street, you don’t even notice the headlights of the cars that blind you. To the casual observer, it would look like you had become enamored with the stone pavement beneath your feet. But in reality, you’re just trying to slow down time, to find your footing once again, to stop the torrent of thoughts racing through your head.

But time waits for no one, as they say. And before you knew it, tomorrow turned into today, just as it had before. Now, on the big day, standing on the stage, you stare at that lonely, empty chair that had been reserved for your special audience.

Simon Riley.

The Swan Queen dances, but looks more like a ghost trapped in a body operating solely on muscle memory. The leaps, the extensions, even the infamous Black Swan 32 fouettes—they all feel mechanical. As if danced by…

A soulless ballerina.

But it doesn’t matter, right? Not when someone has made a promise to see you perform, only for them to not show up. Even when the show is over (and you survived Henri’s berating, saying that it can’t go on like this—“we’re replacing you.”), all you find is your failure.

Your failure in finding him.

Your failure in—

(Why did you let that man walk away?)

No, you insisted, he didn't walk away. Something must've happened to him—something that was keeping him away from me. He wouldn't... he wouldn't have just disappeared, not when he knew how much I needed him, not when we're so perfect for each other.

Not when he promised you.

But you also know that promises are the easiest to break. Besides, this wasn't the first time, was it? Something similar happened a long time ago.

Where are you, Simon?

Where. Are. You?

Here you are.

Surrounded by unfamiliar buildings in an even more unfamiliar city. A city outside of London. The location coordinates were given by your other phone before the battery died.

A city where Simon is likely to be.

Realistically speaking, this is a shot in the dark. A wild guess you've made based on the screenshot of the "Find Me" app and the address you googled. There’s no guarantee that he lives in one of those buildings like you assumed—there’s no guarantee that by setting foot here, you’ll meet him.

However, a girl in love is nothing but hopeful. Too hopeful, sometimes. And you cling to that like a lifeline—praying there will be a clue leading you to him.

As you emerge from the train station, the fresh air greets your face, a welcome change from the stuffy confines of the underground. Glancing down at your phone, you re-read the address, eyes following the arrow on the map that gauges the distance between your current position and your destination. You start walking, navigating the unfamiliar sidewalks.

You sweep your gaze across the faces of the passerby, heart beating in hope—in desperation to find a familiar face, to catch a glimpse of Simon among the sea of strangers.

The outcome proved to be consistent with the weeks that preceded it—nothing. Doubts begin to take root, seeking an abode within you to poison your thoughts. Maybe this is all just a stupid chase—one that won't yield anything no matter how deep you dig.

Then, your eyes land on the quaint little café—the very same one you had seen on Google. It’s striking enough, perfect for a guidepost that could lead you to the address you’ve been searching for. With renewed determination, you know you must keep going.

You pushed through the café’s door, deciding to get your caffeine fix before continuing your mission. The aroma of freshly brewed java enveloped you, accompanied by the busy voice of the barista behind the counter. You entered the queue, sweeping your eyes over the menu board despite knowing you were only loyal to one type of drink.

“What can I get for you today?” the barista asked as soon as it was your turn.

“A large caramel macchiato, with an extra shot of espresso, please.”

The barista nodded, tapping away at the cash register. He stated your total, and you quickly fished out a few bills from your wallet and placed them on the counter. After mumbling a thank you, you stepped aside to let the next customer order.

You sat at an empty table, drumming your foot anxiously and biting your lips as you waited for your order. The jittery feeling in your stomach grew more intense with each passing second. You continued glancing down at your phone, at this point expecting nothing, but doing it for the sake of acting busy.

Taking a deep breath, you try to still the trembling in your hands. You turned your gaze to the window—

And your heart nearly stopped.

There, parked on the street, was the very car you’d been in multiple times. It was the car Simon drove to the countryside when you went to Sabrina’s wedding. The same car that drove you home before he disappeared into thin air.

You pause for a moment but don’t take your eyes off it—a lurking fear that if you do, it will evaporate like a daydream. But the car is still there. Real. You feel your palms begin to sweat.

What started as a wild guess—a wild, aimless chase—now seemed to be bearing fruit. Simon’s car was parked right there, which means there’s a good chance he’s somewhere around here. Even if he isn’t, then at the very least, this is a neighborhood he frequents—a high-probability location to find him.

You can almost see him now. The black woven polypropylene mask he often wears, beneath it a smile he tries to hide but the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes always give it away. Maybe he's clad in the leather jacket he usually wears. Is he upstairs in one of the apartments, just out of sight? Does he really live around here?

If you do bump into him, will he suspect you—see through your lies? Or will he think it’s a coincidence—a meeting planned by the universe? Signs that you were truly meant for him.

Signs that you’re perfect for each other. Soulmates.

A voice called your name, snapping you back to reality. You realized it was the barista; you quickly got up and collected your drink with a grateful nod. Looking back out the window, the car was still there. Waiting for you.

What had started as a simple to-go order quickly transformed into a leisurely sip as you found yourself sitting at a table outside. You settled in, trying to blend in without seeming suspicious with the other patrons—some reading, others tapping away on their laptops, and a few chatting with their friends over their coffee and baked goods.

Time and again, your gaze drifts back to the car. You study it intently, as if looking for a difference—for it to reveal secrets to you. Perhaps Simon would emerge from one of the buildings, or he might even stroll to this café. Is he a regular here too?

The temptation to survey the area grows stronger with each passing second. But you resist the urge, knowing full well that such a bold move could backfire. What would you say if you ran into Simon? Coincidence is one thing, but running into him in his own apartment?

Hours ticked by. The patrons around you came and went; you stayed, your body still angled at that car. You finished your coffee but refused to give up your post. Despite your waiting, there was still no sign of Simon.

The sky was getting darker, probably close to dinner time—you confirmed this after checking the time on your phone. A rational part of you knew that you should leave, at least to get something to eat instead of subsisting solely on caffeine. But you denied yourself. What if he shows up when I leave?

If you leave now, you might lose your chance—the scattered clues and breadcrumbs you’ve been trying to scavenge for the past few weeks. All of this would be nothing again, and what are you supposed to do if that were the case?

The barista pushes open the door of the cafe, collecting the empty cups from the table across from you. He turns, then pauses. Something about you brings pity into his expression, and he offers if you’d like him to bring you something to eat. You accept the offer, order a plate of Danish pastry, and pay and tip.

Another two hours of waiting, and the hope in you begins to fade. You sank deeper into your chair, staring at the empty cup of your second coffee that had gone cold. Maybe you should just call it a night. There's a hotel just a few blocks away—you can settle in there, get some rest, and pray the phantom himself will make his long-awaited appearance the next day.

You begin to gather your things, making sure everything is in your bag. Standing up, you tighten your coat, preparing to leave.

A movement caught your eye.

Across the street—right in front of the building where the car was parked, a movement made you stop in your tracks. You waited for confirmation.

A tall, familiar shadow emerged, and your breath caught. The car lights flickered—the figure is unlocking it and preparing to get in. Your heart throbs both in excitement and trepidation. And then, just as another car passed by, its headlights illuminated the man’s face.

Simon looks exactly the same as he had the last time you saw him.

As if he had never been away, never disappeared. As if he had gotten up in the morning, gone about his day, and fallen asleep peacefully at night, and all of this anguish and turmoil was one-sided-

Simon’s car engine roared to life. Before you could process it, it started to drive away. You quickly hailed the nearest taxi, hastily climbing inside. The driver was about to open his mouth, but you beat him to it by pointing at the car in front and commanding, "Follow that car!" He didn’t ask any questions. The cab pulled out onto the street, just two cars behind Simon’s.

And so, here you are, sitting alone in a tucked-away booth of a pub, lacking friends when everybody else meets theirs. You retrieved your compact powder, discreetly aiming it toward where Simon was seated at the bar, probably ordering his usual drink. Sweeping a quick glance around, you wonder if this is the place he haunted while vanishing from your presence.

When the bartender returned with his order, you watched them exchange a few words—a short conversation, typical Simon. The bartender left him to serve another, and Simon enjoyed the quiet alone time with a sip of the amber-brown liquid.

Simon was… well, the same. You didn’t expect these times to change a man like him, but watching his unaltered demeanor—lost in his own world, focused only on his own business—felt like a soothing balm on your longing. He was wearing the same leather jacket, but you couldn’t help but notice that his hair seemed shorter—he had recently gotten a trim.

Everything about him seemed so… unchanged, so constant, that it was almost jarring when he suddenly shifted his head and gazed at someone you hadn’t noticed before.

“’Ello, there. Mind if I sit with you?”

It was a blonde woman, lips drawn into a flirtatious smile. Your throat tightened, your heart began to race as you heard Simon’s response.

“’Course not.”

The woman beamed. Your breath hitched, yet the woman beamed, sliding onto the barstool next to him with her shoulders open—her body language inviting him in, as if whispering to him to come closer, closer, closer—and he will find a fruit sweeter, riper than—

You.

The two of them exchanged a conversation too quiet for you to hear. You pressed your spine against your booth chair, straining your ears to catch even the slightest snippet of their conversation. Simon’s words barely reached your ears, but you managed to hear his response to whatever the woman said.

“’s my usual spot.”

The woman nodded, curving her smile wider. “Well, lucky for me, then,” she purred, voice dripping with suggestive tone. “My girls ditched me, so I was hopin’ to find someone to keep me company.”

You hear him snort. From the side profile, you can see Simon smiling at her words—and it burns your chest. He raises his glass, taking a long pull of his whiskey as if he’s preparing to entertain her more. Stop. Take your eyes off her. Don’t look at her like that. Don’t look at her at all.

“’s that so?” he replied, tone laced with a hint of amusement and something else. “An' you thought I'd be the right person to come to, did you?”

“Well, I certainly ‘oped so,” she said. “You’re not married, are you?”

Simon shakes his head. “’M not married.”

She leans in a bit closer, and your fingers turn pale around your compact powder. “An’ not with anyone? Anythin’?”

Like the woman, you still your breath waiting for his answer. Perhaps he will say yes and reject her proposition entirely. Or at the very least, he will consider you to be a near-answer before responding. The air you’re holding in begins to choke you like a boa constrictor, causing your eyes to water and your lower eyelids to moisten.

Far from your expectations, Simon finds his answer quickly and without hesitation, “Nope.”

Everything in you shrinks into what it once was—nothingness. You feel yourself slowly unraveling, like a thread being pulled apart. The world around you is blurred—Simon’s reflection in the mirror of your compact powder blurred. You take a shaky breath, brow furrowed as you burn holes in the stranger you now despise so much. The liquid smooth you brought to this city has been turned into a scalding, caustic torrent, burning mercilessly even to its master.

When you came back to reality, they were both already standing, Simon closing the tab and making his way towards the backdoor with her. You turned your head, watching them disappear behind the old wood.

With all that's been presented before you, it should be enough for you to get up and walk away—to spare yourself from another twist of the knife. Somewhere within, a voice seems to whisper that you don’t need this—that you have suffered so much, that you don’t need to do this to satisfy whatever found amusement in your own heartache. That you can walk away, let him slip away if necessary.

(Why did you let that man walk away?)

But you are nothing if not obsessive. The urge to uncover the truth, to confirm everything even at the cost of your own destruction. You will push your sanity to the brink where you will find the end.

Summoning what little courage is left, you stand up and begin retracing their invisible footprints, making your way towards the backdoor. As you pushed it open, you were greeted by the sight of a dark, empty alley, with your ragged breath as the only sound.

But when you reached the other end of the alley, the silence faded away as hushed whispers and soft sounds filled the air. Alarms went off in the back of your head—it only meant one thing—but you ignored it. Instead, you slowed your steps, hiding behind the crumbling brick wall, and peeked around the corner.

There they were. Simon and the woman, locked in a deep, passionate kiss. His body pressed against hers as she wrapped her legs around his waist in a way that made your stomach churn. The hands you knew so well cupped her jaw like he did to you as he dragged his lips down her exposed neck. Just like he did to you.

A strangled sound escaped your mouth; you covered it to prevent another. You felt your eyes burning, yet you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the show. Spare me, your heart begged, yet you let your ears continue to listen to them.

The sound of a zipper being lowered cuts through the air. Simon lifted her dress, and you watched in morbid fascination as he snapped his hips forward. She lets out a loud moan. Your head throbbed, the pulsing pain matching the rapid beating of your heart. The burn inside you was almost unbearable, and you felt your breath shortening, vision blurring as you grew lightheaded.

You couldn’t bear to watch anymore. With shaking limbs, you walk away from them. The acid reaches your throat—the next second, you're hunched over, vomiting onto the cold, hard concrete.

And suddenly, everything feels like a fever dream—a repetitive loop that leaves you feeling both light and heavy. You exist, but you don't really exist; you're breathing, but you're not really breathing. The cobblestones stare back at you, their edges thickened, spreading like black blood. Beside them, your hands are shaking, and when you turn them over, you realize they’ve always been this way—open, fingers stretched to their maximum.

Like they're grasping for something out of reach.

Here you are.

Surrounded by unfamiliar buildings in an even more unfamiliar city. Yet, the hollowing abyss within you is anything but a stranger. In truth, it's probably all you've truly known throughout your entire life before you dared to believe you could become something beyond this yawning emptiness—the chasm where every ounce of love and all the things you've held dear have been mercilessly flushed away.

When you sob again, you choke. Gravel scrapes your skin as you kneel down, resembling a devout soul pleading to the heavens. It isn't devotion that drives your supplications, but rather fear—and perhaps that's why your fervid entreaties never find an answer.

“Why did you let that man walk away?”

Change the prophecy, change the prophecy, you beg. Make him love me, let him love me.

(But, is it his love you truly seek, or simply the proof that it brings?

Or is it a bit of both?)

Surrounded by unfamiliar buildings in an even more unfamiliar city, you taste the saltiness of your own tears on your lips. Release me. Release me from this pain—from this curse. Make him love me. Prove me right, prove her wrong. All these demands, and yet, the voracious pain continues to spread like an all-consuming malady.

It gave you an open eye.

How pathetic you must’ve looked—like a crumpled, wretched thing, curled on the dirty sidewalk while Simon was still there in the alley, digging his fingers into the hips of another woman. You could almost feel it—the phantom of his touch, the sounds he used to make. You knew he would kiss her just as he had kissed you—he would make her feel good, the way he had always made you feel.

And you knew—you just knew—that she would fall for him, just as you had.

But this time, he would love her back.

Because she wasn’t you.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23 @pastel-devil-06 @rroseskull

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS HERE.

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schlatt-love-bot · 24 hours ago

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Shy Schlatt x Reader Headcanon

First time meeting edition!

To everyone else, Schlatt appears to be a large grumpy man, intimidating those around him

He didn’t necessarily help this narrative when he openly picked on his friends around other people, and generally had a brooding attitude when he was in public

This all seemed to melt away the moment he laid eyes on you, though

Smaller in statue, you would’ve fit perfectly in his side, tucked away under his arm, which kicked in his primal urge to become your protector

He noticed you during a Chuckle Week shoot, vaguely remembering how Ted mentioned that a college friend of his would be helping set up shots and other things during filming this week

He barely listened as Ted explained who you were, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, watching as you untangled some cords from Ted’s backpack

Apparently Ted called you over, as Schlatt barely noticed you talking as you introduced yourself, sticking out your hand to shake, looking up at him confused as to why you weren’t shaking his hand

“I..I take it you’re not a hand-shaking greeter?”

“O-Oh, uh…sorry toots, it’s not that I’m not a hand-shaker, I was just…lost in some, uh, thoughts. The name’s Schlatt, nice t’ meet ya.”

You giggled at the encounter and walked away, while Ted let out an exasperated sigh

“This is going to be a loooong filming week if you keep up that act, Schlatt.”

Schlatt grumbled and playfully smacked Ted, telling him to shut up among…other choice words

…ultimately, though, Ted was right. This was indeed the longest week of recording Schlatt had ever done, and it was all due to the pretty little dame behind the camera

Schlatt noticed when you would tune out of the conversation being had between him, Ted, and their guest, which is when Schlatt would become increasingly grumpier, even borderline aggressive at times

If you were listening, though? That man tried his hardest to act cool, but ultimately stumbled over his words and showed a bit too much of his softness

“Schlatt…buddy, my eyes are over here…” Connor, this episode’s guest, began to tease, causing heat to rise in Schlatt’s cheeks as he sent eye daggers in Connor’s direction

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Maybe if you were actually talking about anything interesting, I’d be a better listener! Ever think of that?”

He heard your stifled giggle coming from behind the camera and in turn beamed with pride

At the end of the week, Schlatt grew grumpier and grumpier, knowing he would have to leave behind this pretty little thing to go back to New York, and Ted could sense it

“Yknow, if you want to leave with a good taste of LA on your tongue…(Y/N)’s totally into you, too. How? I’m not sure. I don’t know why anything with two legs and a pulse would want to go out with you, but she mentioned in passing the other day how ridiculously sexy she thought you were. Go for it, man!”

Annoyed by Ted’s implications, his ears still perked at the thought of you finding him attractive, so back into the studio he went

He caught you while you were packing away some of the set props, trying to balance yourself on the seats to collect as many Sriracha and A1 bottles you could manage before you began to lose your balance

“Woah...you gotta be more careful there, toots. Don’t want you to go hurting yourself, now. Can I…can I help you?”

The way he held you in his arms made your heart stop, and your lack of response made him think you thought he was being a creep by holding you for so long

He quickly placed you back down onto the ground, clearing his throat, before pulling at the hem of his shirt looking for the words he wanted to say

“So…I…uh, my flight outta here doesn’t leave until tomorrow night so…I was thinkin’...maybe you would wanna, I dunno, grab a bite to eat tonight?”

He refused to make eye contact with you, one hand snaking around his neck, making you giggle

“Sir…are you asking me on a date?”

“You said it, not me…”

“Well…”

“Okay fine, it’s a date. Will you?”

“Absolutely.”

"Cool, awesome. Here's my number, I'll...uh...pick you up at 5?"

"Sounds perfect, Schlatt."

He didn't want to show just how excited he was about it, (but he totally did) but he was absolutely geeked that he got a chance at a date

You might've caught him giving himself a little pat on the back as he exited the studio, not thinking you were paying any mind to him

ooooohhh!! i just love the idea of a softie schlatt!! i feel he's not portrayed as a softie or as shy very often, so i figured why not try my hand at it!! hopefully you all enjoyed!!

#schlatt #jschlatt x you #jschlatt #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x you #schlatt fic #schlatt fanfic #jschlatt fic #jschlatt fanfic

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kenziebluex · 2 days ago

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The Broken Heart That Makes Us

We are back!!! (updates will be every Friday in January 😊) Hope everyone had a great finals week and happy holiday!

Story Description:

Your arranged marriage is on its last legs. After making an agreement with your step son, Megumi, you are puzzled when you are faced with finally making a decision.

Your whole life so far has been planned for you, leading you to struggle with the idea of moving on and finding something stable…someone stable.

Will you finally be able to let go of the life that was made for you? Will there be others out there willing to pick up the pieces?

(18+) Pairings: Toji, Goji, Geto, Nanami, & Choso.

Read on ao3: TBHTMU

Chapter 2:

You weren’t surprised when the morning after Toji was nowhere to be found. He even packed up most of his stuff this time. What wasn’t even more surprising was that he didn’t show up for his son's martial arts tournament that was 2 days later.

You knew how important this tournament was for Megumi since it was the last tournament before he would advance up a level in his class. If he won this match he would advance a color.

So when he walked out on stage and scanned the crowd for you. You made sure you were front and center not wanting him to feel alone. His face lit up as he noticed you in the crowd wanting to wave even though you knew he wouldn’t out of fear of embarrassment. Megumi continued scanning the crowd even though you hoped he wouldn’t.

As much as he puts on a strong face you knew one thing that he had that you regretfully had a few days ago too.

Hope.

It all happened at once you watched as a wave of realization hit him. He looked back at you for a moment and you could see a tear slowly falling down his face. You felt sick to your stomach knowing that he was hurting. Megumi seemed to realize where he was and let out a laugh to distract himself. Getting back into his starting stance. He was going to do what he always does and channel his emotions into the fight.

You can just imagine what happened next.

Megumi won the match 3-0.

✿❀○❀✿

Practically running backstage after the match you barely manage to not trip over your own feet. You usually waited after the match in the front with the other parents but you needed to see him. You just felt an intense urge to tell him how proud of him you were.

“Meg,..megumi” calling out softly in the crowd of people backstage you were met with a voice you didn’t recognize.

“Megumi’s over here.” said a man you weren’t familiar with. Megumi was sitting on a chair in the far corner of the room. You didn’t need to see his face to know by his body language he was frustrated and crying.

You couldn’t help yourself but to crouch down and hug him ignoring the people that were near him once you got to him. Surprisingly you were met with a tight hug back as he silently sobbed into your shoulder. Megumi usually doesn’t like public affection but you figured this was his one exception.

“I’m so sorry Meg, but I'm so proud of you” you whispered next to his head, not wanting to draw more attention to him. Continuing to hold him and assuring him everything is okay you finally look up at the man that was standing in front of you as if he was blocking the view so you two could have some privacy.

The back of the man had your eyes almost popping out the back of your head. The man was wearing a tight black compression shirt that made sure to emphasize the muscles on his shoulder and back. You could almost see the outlines of his veins and the back of the shirt left little to the imagination. He had to be a security guard.

“Excuse me” you say softly because you didn't want to alarm Megumi. He didn’t seem to hear what you said which you figured would be the case. It was very loud backstage with the people and the wrap up music playing. Reaching out to touch his arm you hesitated causing you to jerk back.

The sudden movement seemed to have got his attention. He turned around and you wished he hadn't.

“My god.” your eyes instantly locked on to his abs. You were right earlier at this point he might as well just not have worn a shirt. His abs were hugging the shirt and you could have sworn you could see his nipples if you looked hard enough. You could tell this man worked out daily.

His white hair was pushed back and don’t get me started on his beautiful blue eyes. They seemed to sparkle even though the lighting wasn’t shining directly on him. He looked like a delicate painting that would be hung on the wall in an art museum. You were sure you could write a poem about how handsome-

“SORRY” you say in a horrified whisper when you realize you have spent the last minute staring at his body.

“You can stare all you want.” the man said with a smirk before bending down to the level me and Megumi were on. He was even more intimidating up close.

“You guys okay? I saw him crying and led him over here for some privacy. I know these matches can be quite intense.” he sounded different from the joking tone he just displayed a second before. His voice was filled with genuine concern.

“We are okay sorry for worrying you Sensei.” Megumi said, removing his head from my arm while slowly standing up. Sensei? I have never seen him before. I would have remembered meeting him. I stood up to not wanting to be kneeling on the hard floor any longer.

It was a brief awkward silence as we all stood up not sure which one of us was going to talk first. I could barely look at the man in front of me, still embarrassed from my actions earlier.

“Mom this is Sensei Satoru Gojo, he’s a Sensei for the upper class students. He offered me a spot in his class.” Megumi said, breaking the silence. I turned to Megumi in disbelief, usually he asks permission before accepting after school classes.

"We will talk about it at home Megumi." you said trying to put a positive smile on your face. You were met with a smile back and knew you would give in.

✿❀○❀✿ - (big jump skip, present time)

It’s been two years since you’ve been rebuilding your life after divorcing Toji. To be honest, life became…somewhat peaceful. But it would be a lie if you said that overcoming everything was easy. The marriage was arranged to benefit your father so you thought divorcing had a heavy price to pay.

Time passed and marriage to Toji was no longer needed for the firm’s success, making it just another fruitless expense. You still can’t believe that your dad uprooted your life based on a whim just for you to go through hell and in the end, everything fell apart. But, you couldn’t complain much. After all, Megumi was all yours and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You figured that finally getting into a steady beat while taking care of Megumi was going to be a breeze. (Since that was something you were doing anyway.) And you know that he is not the type to complain much about anything. However, a guilty reminder racked your brain.

Megumi needed someone to look up to. Up until now, you have always been the safety net to Toji’s broken promises and a part of you feels ashamed for separating him from his father. You concluded that enrolling him into Gojo-sensei’s martial arts classes was a good sign since it was the first time he truly asked for something from you. So, you gave Megumi all the support he needed to succeed and that’s why you’re parked outside of the dojo 20 minutes early before his class ends, right?

You eyed the rearview mirror while making final touches on your lashes with your mascara until you heard a blaring car horn. Shocked out of your focus, the mascara skidded leaving a dazzling black streak under your eye. Your head snapped outside the driver’s seat window of your blue Chevrolet Equinox.

“What the hell? They’re early!” The panic fell from your lips as you worked double time trying to tidy up the mess under your eye and fumbled through your purse to prepare to go inside. The other students filed out of the dojo and into their parents' cars while you had to prepare for a ‘fun parent-teacher conference’ as Gojo had stated.

You exited your car, with your shoulder bag in tow and entered the dojo with a million thoughts running through your head.

‘Why a conference? Is Meg finally going through his rebellious phase?’

A thoughtless sigh escaped your lips as you discarded your heels to step up to the tatami mat of the cleared out dojo where only two people remained.

As soon as you passed through the double doors, brilliant clear quartz blue eyes pinned you in place. Phantom white hair slicked back from the sweat of a rigorous practice. The wet of his forehead trickled down into the scandalously opened chest of his white Gi that no doubt explored down the rest of his well-toned body.

“Mama Megumi has such shameless eyes.” Serpent like words hummed from a deep bassy voice. You blinked twice as your gaze focused on the playful grin that tugged the lips of the tall mischievous man. He allowed the collar of his Gi to fall slightly, parading more of his wickedly muscled peck. Your lips tightened at his obvious teasing.

You ignored his taunt and shifted your gaze to Megumi, who wore a similar Gi but a color belt of a few ranks below.

“Meg, is everything ok?” You asked, fully focusing on your son whose typical spiky black hair laid flat from his work out.

Megumi’s eyes shifted back and forth between you to Gojo, lightly acknowledging the banter.

It was always a game between you two. He’d flirt, you’d ignore. You tease and he bites back. It was a battle of wits everytime you two met which is precisely why you wouldn’t play his game today. Megumi’s wellbeing always came before whatever shallow flirting you had going on.

“Yeah mom. I-.” Megumi began.

“Megumi is doing just fine.” Gojo interrupted as he swung a lazy arm over Megumi’s shoulders. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t get it then. Why did we need a conference?” Your arms slumped as you felt the rush of worry escape your body. All that was left was confusion. Gojo had whispered something to him and after a formal bow, Megumi departed to go gather his belongings.

Gojo leisurely planted his hands on his hips and gilded himself towards you, leaving only a forearm’s length in between. His towering figure overshadowed your frame as the heat of his gaze spoke a thousand words.

“I think we are past the stage of stick-up-your-ass formalities.” Gojo purred. Playfulness showered his lips while his eyes left a danger to be desired.

“I don’t have time for games when it involves my son, sensei.” You answered firmly. He raised a hand and used his thumb to brush under your eye. You assumed he was cleaning up the aftermath of your mascara but heat remained as his thumb caressed your cheek.

You gently slapped his hand away and it fell to his side. You shot him a glare warning him to stop wasting your time. He smirked, humored at your fiery response.

“I just wanted to do a follow up for the letter I sent you through the mail.” He confessed. Your head fell to the side and your eyes trekked downwards in deep thought. You don’t remember receiving any mail recently from him but then again…

“Ah-. I changed my address.” You raised your head too quickly not knowing Gojo hovered low enough where his nose barely brushed yours. You took in a gasp.

Gojo studied your face and his peering blue eyes paused at your lips. You subconsciously wetted them with your tongue and you watched his breath hitch. His eyes then fell to your chest that teasingly left the first two buttons open of your blazer.

“This is our new address! We fully moved in about a year ago.” You broke the tension. Your body turned to fumble through your purse looking for a small piece of paper and a pen. You settled for an old restaurant business card and began to write your address on the back.

With his index and middle finger, Gojo swiftly swiped the card from your hands. He exchanged looks with the card and your face and then looked back at the card and flipped it over. He snorted a laugh and covered his mouth to contain it.

“What?” You shrugged trying to take a peek at the card to see if you spelled something wrong.

He flipped the card up to your face.

“Coupon for Chuck N Cheese’s?! Are you 6?!” He threw his head back and boomed in laughter. You shoved his shoulder and attempted to swipe the business card back. He was faster than you and raised the card in the air to force you to jump for it.

“Give it back, dickcheese.” You leaped again and attempted to take the card back. Gojo’s wicked smile only grew while he watched your embarrassed reaction.

“Ha! And I’m the childish one?!” You huffed.

You felt a hand curl around your back and he pulled your chest against his. The force sent you both tumbling with Gojo breaking your fall.

Your eyes grew wide as your chest pressed plush against his and his long legs straddling the sides of you. You tried not to focus on something rock solid that bullied its way against your pelvis. You felt his hand on your back slowly rub up and down, teasing the top of your ass.

He took another glance at the card with your address written on it.

“Got it. I’ll swing by tomorrow at 8. Dress nicely.” He ordered and you pushed yourself up to meet him face to face.

“What game are you playing?” You whispered looking for deception in his gaze. His head fell back on the mat and he gazed up at you under hooded eyes. His hand stopped just before the curve of your ass. He parted his lips as he was about to answer.

“Oi, pervert!” A bellow emerged from the changing room and you quickly scrambled to your knees and Gojo sat up after you. Megumi’s face was twisted in disgust directed at Gojo.

Before another word was uttered, Megumi marched over to you and pulled you up by the wrist. He stood in front of you protectively. However, Gojo was completely unphased.

“Oh! That reminds me. I wanted to recommend Megumi to extra practices. I think he could train for a higher belt before the end of the year.” Gojo explained nonchalantly. He perched up his knee and rested his elbow on it while flicking the card back and forth in between his fingers.

You rubbed the temples of your forehead.

‘This could have been a fucking email.’ You groaned internally.

“Of course…I do need a parent’s approval. It means that he’s going to be training more during the week and I wanted to make sure that was ok with you.” Gojo rose up to his feet. You were taken aback at how reasonable his explanation was. Watching Gojo flirt back and forth from playful to serious was kind of sexy in a way.

His gaze turned soft as he eyed Megumi knowingly.

“I want to see him succeed.” Gojo confessed. You noticed the flicker of sincerity in his tone.

Keeping up with Megumi’s practices was hellish already. Although moving gave you the distance you needed and the living space Megumi deserved, traveling was brutal. His shoulders slumped. He knew this too. But if jujutsu martial arts was something he wanted to do, distance be damned!

“I think we can spare a few extra days. Right Meg?” You placed two hands on his shoulders and he turned his back to face you in disbelief. Then, the pinch of hope you briefly saw in his eyes disappeared in an instant.

“But you’ve been pushing yourself. There are no buses near our house and you have to drive me to school everyday and then from school to practice. I don’t want to be a burden again…” The last part of his sentence trailed off almost like a silent apology. He almost struggled to look you in the eye. Being a burden was the last thing you wanted Megumi to think. Especially after it took years to heal the wounds his father left that made him have those thoughts.

“Erm! *cough* I’ll take Meggy home if he’ll need a ride.” Gojo suggested. Both you and Megumi snapped your heads towards him. Megumi pondered the suggestion.

“This just gives me more reasons to camp out at your doorstep.” He continued and once again wore a mischievous grin. You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes.

“Stalker.” You uttered while guiding Megumi to the exit.

“Remember! 8 O’Clock on the Dot! Okay??? Do you hear me?!! Hey!!! Hey helloooo!!!” You heard Gojo holler from behind you as you and Megumi exited the dojo. You displayed a pretty little middle finger to Gojo without sparing him a glance.

“Mom, don't associate with him. He’s ill.”

“Yeah…I know.”

tag: @beetusbritt❤ @nousija divider by @cafekitsune art credit 1: ig: arekushisu (commission do not use) art credit 2: twitter: ayushnz_ ❀follow for more ❀ ao3: kenzieblue❀ -kenzie & des

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk smut #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #toji x reader #gojo smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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girlyrafe · 1 day ago

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ice skating.ᐟ

ʚɞ a december to remember

𖢔 notes: this is the last of my Christmas series + hope you have a good Christmas if your celebrating

── .✦ advent .ᐟ

summary: your so excited to go ice skating with Rafe but he’s hesitant, of course he is

ᯓᡣ𐭩

It’s a perfect winter afternoon—one of those that makes you feel like the world is wrapped in a soft, frosty blanket. You’re practically buzzing with excitement as you grab his hand, leading him toward the ice rink. You’ve been planning this for weeks, talking about it every time the temperatures dip below freezing, and now here you are, about to glide across the ice together.

But as you reach the rink, you notice the way Rafe's shoulders tense, the uncertain look in his eyes as he glances down at the smooth, glimmering surface. His lips twitch into a half-smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s clear—he’s nervous.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze, a soft, reassuring tug. “Don’t worry,” you say with a grin. “It’s just for fun. No pressure, I promise. You’ll be fine.”

He nods, but you can tell he’s still not convinced. His boots crunch against the ice with every step, like he’s testing the ground to make sure it won’t betray him. You can almost hear his inner dialogue—he’s probably wondering how he’s going to keep from slipping and turning into a human snowball in front of everyone.

And you can’t blame him. Ice skating can be intimidating if you’ve never done it. But you? You’re already feeling the thrill. The rink is sparkling beneath the low winter sun, the scent of fresh snow and pine filling the air, and you can already imagine the smooth glide of your skates carving through the ice. The freedom, the fun—it’s hard to contain your excitement. You just want him to share in that feeling with you.

You squeeze Rafe's hand again, your fingers warm against his, and give him a playful wink. “Look, I’m not going anywhere,” you tease, hoping to ease his tension. “I’ll hold your hand the whole time. Promise I won’t let you fall… well, I mean, I’ll fall, but I’ll catch you.”

He looks at you, amusement creeping into his features despite the anxiety still tugging at him. “I’m trying to be brave here,” he admits, his voice tinged with humor. “But this ice feels like it’s made of glass. What if I faceplant in front of everyone?”

You laugh softly, rolling your eyes. “Everyone falls at first, trust me,” you reply with a wink. “When I started, I spent more time on the ice than standing up. But you know what? It’s fun. And that’s all that matters.”

His brows furrow slightly. “I’m serious, though. I really don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

You know exactly what’s going on in his head. He’s trying to keep it light, trying to make it seem like he’s not nervous, like he’s got this. But you can see the little cracks in his armor. You smile at him, reaching up to gently tap his cheek. “No one’s watching,” you say. “We’re just here to have fun. Not win any trophies.”

He chuckles, but still takes each step like he’s walking on eggshells. His grip on your hand tightens, but that’s okay. You’re in no rush. You gently nudge him forward, taking the lead, letting him follow you as you glide a few feet ahead. You can hear the sound of skates scraping against the ice, the buzz of happy chatter all around, and in the distance, a group of kids whizzes by, their laughter bright and carefree. You wish he could feel that same excitement.

You glance back at Rafe, raising an eyebrow with a playful smile. “Come on, just try it,” you urge. “Trust me, it’s easier than it looks. If you fall, I’ll catch you. I’ll be your personal crash test dummy.”

He gives you a wary look, his body tense as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, still unsure. “I don’t know about this…”

But there’s something in his eyes—something like determination. You can almost see him making the decision to try and not let his nerves hold him back. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to disappoint you, or maybe it’s because he’s finally starting to trust the ice (and you) a little more. Either way, with a deep breath, he bends his knees, shifts his weight forward, and takes his first shaky glide.

You can’t help it—you burst into a laugh, but it’s not at him. It’s with him. His movements are adorable, like he’s testing the ice with every step, unsure whether to commit to the glide or retreat back into the safety of the rink’s edge. It’s so endearing—the way he’s trying so hard to stay balanced, the way his arms flail like windmills.

“Hey, you’re doing it!” you cheer, your voice light and teasing. “Look at you! You’re practically an expert.”

He gives you a nervous grin, his arms still wild, as if he’s waiting for his body to betray him. “Yeah, I’m sure I look super graceful,” he says, but it’s clear he’s feeling a little better, a little less stiff.

But then, just as you think he’s found his rhythm, his skate catches in a divot, and with a comical gasp, his feet slip out from under him. His arms flail for a split second before—wham—he’s flat on his back, staring up at the sky like he’s trying to figure out where the universe went wrong.

You can’t help but laugh—loud, unrestrained, the kind of laugh that fills your chest with warmth. You skate over, leaning down with a teasing grin. “I warned you, didn’t I?”

He groans dramatically, but there’s a twinkle in Rafe's eye. “Okay, okay. You were right,” he admits, taking your hand as you pull him up. “But I swear, this ice has it out for me.”

You smile at him, shaking your head as you help him regain his balance. “It’s not the ice; it’s that you’re overthinking it. Come on, let’s go slow. I’ll stay right with you.”

The two of you begin skating side by side, moving a little smoother now, though his movements are still cautious. But something’s changed. He’s not holding on as tightly; his shoulders are a little looser. With every glide, he’s growing more confident. And, before you know it, he’s teasing you back, skating just a bit faster, pretending to show off, making you laugh with his goofy little ta-da spin. You can feel his joy seeping in, and you’re so glad you stuck with it.

By the time you both decide to leave the rink, his nerves have melted away, leaving behind nothing but the glow of a successful first skating adventure. His cheeks are rosy from the cold, his smile wide and genuine. He may not be a professional skater, but he did it—and that’s enough. You know this moment, this laughter, this fun will be one of those little memories you both look back on with fondness for years to come.

As you walk off the ice together, hand in hand, you glance over at him, feeling a sense of triumph and affection. Rafe might have been unsure at first, but now—he’s grinning, his heart light, and the world feels just a little brighter. And you know this winter adventure is one neither of you will ever forget.

©GIRLYRAFE

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desi2go · 3 days ago

Text

Christmas Scavenger Hunt

pairing: Jisung x reader

words: 4,3k

warnings: fluff, christmas

summary: You and Jisung share a magical holiday experience when Jisung plans a scavenger hunt filled with clues tied to your most cherished memories.

author's note: Hey guys! It's been a while since I posted something. Anyways, I'm back! I had so much fun writing this and btw it's for the StayblrHolidayEvent. I hope you enjoy it <3 Merry Christmas to yall!

-> @stayblrofficial

The first snow of December had come earlier than expected this year, layering the little town in a soft, powdery white. Everything felt quieter, more magical – the world had slowed down just enough to let her breathe. As you walked briskly through the streets towards Parchment Palace, the small independent bookstore where you worked. Your breath was foggy in the frosty air, twinkling lights lined the lampposts and wreaths decorated the storefronts with pops of red ribbon. You absolutely loved Christmas. It had always been your favourite time of year with hot chocolate, the smell of pine and cinnamon as well as Christmas movies you had watched a hundred times without getting bored. By now, you could quote every Christmas related movie that was ever produced. This year, though, felt different. There was something – or rather, someone – that made your cheeks warm even in the winter chill.

Jisung.

It had been only four months since you and Jisung started seeing each other. Four months of easy laughter, long conversations and quiet meaningful moments. He wasn’t the most outgoing guy due to his social anxieties, but he had this gentle, thoughtful way about him. Like he always noticed things others didn’t. You liked that about him, you liked a lot about him, actually.

The bell above Parchment Palace jingled as you stepped inside, the familiar smell of paper and vanilla candles greeted you. Sofia, your cheerful coworker and oldest friend, looked up from the counter and grinned widely. “Morning Y/n” she said, brushing her curly hair out of her face. “Someone’s looking extra giddy today” You rolled your eyes, a smile still spreading over your lips. “I’m just excited about Christmas”

She smirked, wiggling with her eyebrows. “You mean you’re excited about Christmas with Jisung” At her suggestion, you fought the blush that crept up your cheeks. “Maybe”

Sofia chuckled, holding up a small envelope that she waved through the air. “Speaking of, this was mysteriously dropped off for you earlier. No return address, no name. Just To Y/n. Care to explain?” You reached out after hanging up your jacket. “It’s from Jisung, isn’t it?” you murmured while Sofia urged you to find it out, observing the letter behind your back. Your heart skipped as your fingers brushed over the neatly folded paper. As you opened it, you immediately recognised Jisung’s handwriting, slightly messy but unmistakably his.

A little clue to start your day: Find where we first sat with coffee for two. There’s something there only for you to see.

Your lips parted in disbelief, rereading the few lines over and over again. “He’s sending me on a scavenger hunt?” Sofia clapped her hands together in excitement. “He is such a keeper. Honestly, he is making all the other boys look bad” You could hardly contain your joy as you shoved the note securely into your bag. “I can’t believe he actually did this” Sofia laughed, pushing you towards the door and holding your jacket in the other. “I will manage alone here. Go, you have got a mystery to solve”

❄❄❄❄❄

You stepped out of the bookstore into the crisp, snow-kissed morning. The streets were still bustling with holiday shoppers, their arms full of bags, red and green scarves tight against the cold. You tugged your own scarf closer around the neck, the note Jisung had left still snug in your bag. You couldn’t stop smiling. A scavenger hunt. He really planned a scavenger hunt. Jisung wasn’t the flashy or over-the-top like the romantic leads in Christmas movies you loved so dearly, but he had his own charm and this? This was exactly the kind of thing that would melt your heart. Thoughtful and so personal. It already felt like the best Christmas you had ever had, and it hadn’t even arrived yet.

The Blissful Brews was just around the corner, nestled between an old record store and a boutique that sold handmade jewellery. In that old record store worked Jisung. There, you had crossed paths for the first time as you bought your favourite albums and accidentally ran into him. You still remembered how his coffee had drenched your blouse and his deep apologies. The Blissful Brews was the kind of coffee shop that locals loved – warm and small enough that you could find someone you knew sitting in the corner with a steaming mug. The windows were fogged over from the warmth inside and the soft music spilled out as you pushed through the door. Rich espresso mingled with the sweetness of cinnamon and sugar – one of your favourite smells in the world, second only to fresh books and old paper. You paused for a moment near the entrance to take it all in. Everything about this place reminded you of Jisung. The first time you really met (well, if you don’t consider the little accident) and you were so nervous. He had invited you to a coffee as an apology. At that time, you didn’t know that he soon will cross the line between friendship and love.

Now, standing in the familiar warmth of the café, you couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. They both had been incredibly nervous, and the first few minutes were awkward as you had ordered. But this issue was overcome pretty quickly, and you were engaged in a deep conversation for hours. “Can I help you?” the young barista asked, leaning on the counter and eyeing her with an amused expression. You turned to observe the man that had dyed his hair in an unusual pinkish colour. You greeted him, telling him that you searched for an envelope. Of course, he knew you. He was the one that took your orders. Raising his eyebrows, he smiled. “A scavenger hunt clue, maybe?” You blinked, surprised. “Jisung told you?” The barista smirked sheepishly. “He may have come in last night and left something for you. That boy is so sweet” He gestured towards the back of the shop. Of course, why didn’t you think about it earlier? It was obvious that Jisung would have hidden at your table – the small two-seater tucked near the huge window where you had sat on your first unofficial date.

Your boots clicked softly against the wooden floor as you made your way to it, the hum of conversation and the faint clatter of cups filling the air. Your heart did a little flip when you saw a piece of paper carefully taped to the back of one of the chairs. He really did plan this whole thing, you thought. The handwriting was unmistakably Jisung’s, looking like he had been scribbling quickly.

Clue Two: Remember the big storm where you got soaked? You laughed at me ‘til you nearly choked. Go where we took cover and found some cheer, You will find your next clue there.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that memory. It had been one of your earlier dates, back in late September. The weather had been cold but clear when you walked around the town. Jisung, as always, had insisted on walking you back home after the successful date – even though it was a good twenty-minute trip, and his own apartment was on the other side of the town. Halfway through, the first droplets of rain started to fall that had been signalized by the dark clouds and the stormy wind. Small and cold, the water absorbed by your thin jacket. “Oh no” you had muttered, looking up at the ominous grey clouds overhead. Jisung, always the optimist, had grinned. “Maybe it will just be a drizzle” he commented.

Well, it wasn’t. Within moments, the rain had come down in buckets, soaking both of you to the bone, clothes clinging to your wet skin. You remembered standing there in the middle of the street, your hair plastered to your face, water running down your jacket in rivulets. And Jisung stared at you helplessly like he was trying to think of something heroic to do. “Umbrella?” he had stammered. “Too late for that” you said, giggling while you brushed your hair out of your face. Jisung had looked at you like you were slightly insane but the smile permanent on his lips. He had tugged you to a small shop, taking shelter there. The quirky little clothing shop near your apartment where he had bought you a fluffy, deep blue hoodie with a funny picture on it to keep you warm. So far, it was one of your favourite hoodies, creating a great memento of your date.

Now standing in that same clothing store, the second clue clutched in your hand, you searched through the cozy, cluttered shop filled with all different kinds and seizes of clothes in multiple colours. The old shopkeeper, looked up with a knowing smile. The smile of the grey-haired lady was kind and warm. “Ah Y/n” she greeted you, folding new clothes and putting them away on of the racks. “Jisung mentioned you would be coming by” You blinked. “He told you about this?”

Her laughter spread the whole shop. “Of course. That lovesick boy spent nearly an hour here yesterday, making sure that everything was perfect” You followed her to the counter as she pulled out a big paper bag. As soon as you opened it, your gaze locked on a red hoodie, decorated with small white snowflakes. You chuckled at the parallel to your past date. On top sat another note.

Here, my love, is clue three: Our bench in the park, Where we shared our first kiss. A memory I hold, sweet and kind, Go back there now and you will find the next clue.

❄❄❄❄❄

As you stepped back out into the cold, the snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky, you couldn’t stop the giddy excitement bubbling inside you. Every little detail Jisung had included so far – the places, the memories, the clues – was so perfectly. Your boots crunched against the freshly fallen snow as you walked quickly towards the park. The streets were busier now, families wandering hand-in-hand, and the shop windows glowing warmly in the gathering dusk. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, your breath misting in the cold air. The park wasn’t far from the clothing shop and soon, you found yourself standing at the entrance, the large trees stood brave in the falling snow, their branches dusted with snow.

The benches – especially the one you were looking for – were a small island in the white. You scanned the park, looking for the familiar sight. There it was, your bench. The bench where Jisung finally made you, his girlfriend. It was tucked beneath an old oak tree, the powdery snow gathering slowly on the wooden slats. The tree’s branches stretched overhead, and you could almost hear your memories of your past visits. The easy conversations, the quiet moments where you had leaned your head against his shoulder. And then, the kiss happened and symbolised the beginning of your relationship. He had seemed so nervous, his gaze wandering over your face, from time to time locking on your lips, not sure if he was allowed to lean in and capture them. You didn’t act differently.

Honestly, he had won your heart over at your fist unofficial date. As you told him about your day, your own eyes travelled over his soft, pillowy lips, imagining how it would be to kiss him. Eventually, he took all his courage and pressed his lips firmly on yours. Before you could even react, your mind still trying to understand what happened, he retracted. As he brushed through his hair in panic, stuttering apologies, you shook yourself out of your trance and grabbed the collar of his jacket. Swiftly, you pulled him towards you again, his voice was overflowing while you silenced him skilfully. This time, you lead the kiss and quickly, he recovered from the shock and reciprocated the tender gesture.

You reached the bench, smiling to yourself as you saw the small package, wrapped simply in brown paper and a beautiful red bow. Bending down, you brushed the thin layer of snow from the package and untied the bow as well as the paper. A big mug caught your eye, pulling it out from underneath the carefully wrapped papers to ensure that it won’t break.

You turned it to inspect the motif, heart fluttering in your chest as soon as your gaze fell on the photo printed on it. It wasn’t just any photo, no, it showed you two, his cheeks squished against yours tightly. You took it right here on the bench a few weeks prior on a date. Both of your smiles were bright, eyes sparkling with joy and adoration. Your chest tightened, touched by the thoughtful gesture as you pulled the mug close to your heart. This would be your favourite mug from now on. Inside, folded carefully, was the next clue. You pulled it out with a mixture of excitement and curiosity, unfolding it gently as if it were something fragile. Jisung’s handwriting filled the page.

Clue Four: It’s time for the final stop on our trip, Come warm up your hand and take a sip, Come Home where the heart will be, Find me, my love, and you will see.

Your heart leapt. Home. It was a simple word, but it meant so much to you. Your home had always been your apartment – your cozy little space filled with tons of books where you had lived since you moved into this town. But with Jisung, it had started to feel like more than just an apartment. As the weather was colder and rainy, you had spent much time there together, arguing over which Christmas movie to watch, cooking dinner side by side and wrapping presents for family and friends.

Slowly, over the last few months, it had become a place where you could imagine a future, a future with him. With this scavenger hunt, he wasn’t trying to be someone he wasn’t. He wasn’t flashy and didn’t plan some over-the-top romantic gesture straight out of a movie. What he had done was so much better – he had paid attention to the small, quiet moments you had shared. The memories that felt uniquely yours.

You read the note again, realizing what the clue actually meant. Jisung was waiting for you. “Home” you murmured to yourself, your breath fogging in the cold air. You felt a flutter of anticipation deep in your chest as you made your way back down the snowy path toward the street, eager to reach your apartment, to see what Jisung had planned next. The walk was quick, but it felt like an eternity. Each step seemed to pull your closer to something that had always been just out of reach – a feeling of belonging. With Jisung.

❄❄❄❄❄

When you reached your apartment building, it felt like the final puzzle piece was clicking into place. The familiar steps that led to the entrance, the little lobby with its mismatched furniture and the clattering sounds of neighbours going about their daily routines – all of it was comforting. It was home. Now, there was the promise of something even more special waiting inside. You climbed the stairs to the floor, your boots clicking softly on the old wooden steps. The snow outside created a thin layer of frost now thick enough to blanket everything in white. But inside, the warmth from her apartment was waiting – just like Jisung. When you reached the door, something was different.

The dim hallway light flickered above your head, casting soft shadows on the walls. But what really caught her attention was the way the hallway smelled. It wasn’t the usual scent of fresh air or coffee from the neighbours down the hall. This time, there was something warmer, sweeter in the air. Curious, you approached your door and paused, your hand resting lightly on the doorknob. The faintest glow of light slipped through the crack beneath the door, casting a soft, inviting warmth into the otherwise dark hallway.

You opened the door slowly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you stepped inside, observing your apartment in search of Jisung. There, in the middle of the living room, was the most unexpected sight – a blanket fort. An actual blanket fort. You stood frozen for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or cry at how utterly this was. Soft blankets and throws were draped over every available surface, creating a small cozy cocoon in the centre of your living room. Christmas lights twinkled across the top, casting a soft glow. There were pillows scattered everywhere, some piled high inside the fort, others lining the floor like a cushiony path. It was like a childhood dream, but somehow even better – because this time, you had Jisung.

The small Christmas tree you two had bought together last week (well, he helped you with finding the perfect one since you couldn’t decide which one to get and brought it to your apartment since the tree was too heavy for you to lift). Despite your bickering that he should let you help at least with holding it up too, he wanted to do it alone, claiming that it was his job as your boyfriend. You had decorated the Christmas tree together, in the background played your favourite playlist to which you both sang loudly, hanging the handmade ornaments and paper snowflakes on the twigs.

Your heart swelled with pride as you took it all in, trying to figure out how you could get so lucky to have such a thoughtful boyfriend. And then, you heard him in the kitchen, he seemed to be preparing something but as he realised you were home, he stalked into the living area. Two steaming mugs in his hand, your favourites you recognised, His eyes displayed fondness when he observed you, smiling brightly.

“Hey, my love” he greeted you, placing the mugs onto the small couch table before turning to you again. You stepped closer, your feet light on the carpet as you walked towards him, his smile got playful. Hands on your hips, you tried to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face. “So, this is the big finale? A blanket fort? You had me running all over town for this?” A mischievous smile appeared on his lips. “Hey now, this is a masterpiece. I spent hour building and rebuilding it until we both can fit inside. It’s the crown jewel of the scavenger hunt” he exclaimed, fully convinced with his grand idea. You raised your eyebrows, judging his so-called masterpiece. You must say that he did a really good job at building it.

“I must admit, it looks nice” you told him your decision, smiling fondly. “Did you plan all of this?” He nodded proudly, pulling you inside and placed a mug into your hands. As you analysed it further, you realised it was a hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, marshmallows and colourful sprinkles. Just how you liked it. The interior of the fort was cozy and intimate, pillows scattered across the floor, and the twinkling lights above gave the space a dreamy glow. You let out a breath you didn’t knew you were holding. “This is … incredible. This whole journey was wonderful.” you whispered. Jisung shifted, his comfortable scent wafting surrounded you, he smelled like home – your home.

“No need to thank me. Even though we are only four months into our relationship, I wanted to do something special. Because in this short time, my life has changed drastically. You became the centre of my life, my love.” he explained, pulling your hand into his, heating your cold fingers as he caressed the skin lightly. His gaze was soft, full of love when he continued.

“And I wanted you to feel how much everything I experienced with you means to me, every single memory we made together. How much you mean to me” You looked at him, your eyes shining while the weight of his words sank in. “I noticed” you stated quietly. “The café where we had our ‘unofficial’ date. The clothing store when we were surprised by the sudden rain. The bench where we shared so many memories, our first kiss included. You didn’t just send me running around town, Ji. You sent me through us”. Your boyfriend leaned back on his elbows, his gaze softening.

“That was the idea” he admitted. “Sometimes we get caught up in the present, in everything happening around us. And I just wanted to take you back – to remind us of all the moments that brought us here”. Your other hand traced the edge of one of the blankets as you took a deep breath, your voice trembling slightly. “It worked. Every step of the way, I felt it – how much thought, how much love you put into this. I’ve never had anything like this before, Jisung. It’s overwhelming, in the best way” The tears you fought to keep in, slowly escaped and rolled over your cheeks as you sobbed because of how much you adored this man next to you and the weight of not only his words but also his actions.

He cooed at you fondly, cupping your face with his hands, brushing the tears away while placing a sweet peck on your forehead. “Don’t cry. You know I can’t stand it when you cry” Soothingly he rocked you, humming to help you calm down. You smiled at him, puffy eyes but you promised that this were happy tears. “This” you said finally “is more than I ever could ask for” You leaned into him, resting your head against Jisung’s shoulder.

“I know that it’s not Christmas Day. But I have another gift for you” he stated, reaching into his hoodie pocket and pulling out a small, wrapped package. “I thought the fort was the grand finale?” You asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. He placed it gracefully into your open palm, his expression playful but tinges with something deeper. “You could describe it as an addition. Go on, open it”

You tore into the wrapping carefully, your fingers grazing the brown paper and the simple red ribbon. Inside was a small wooden box, its surface smooth and polished. Your breath caught as you opened it, revealing an assortment of trinkets nestled inside. There was a ticket stub from your first movie date, the corner slightly torn where he had fidgeted with it nervously. A pressed leave from the time you had from the time you spent in the park with a picnic as the weather wasn’t that bad, even for autumn. Several other things from past dates were laying in the box. The memories flooded back in vivid detail. “You kept all of this?” your voice broke again as tears welled up. He chuckled, his gaze steady. “Of course. I wanted to remember it all – the moments that made me realize how much you mean to me”

You swallowed hard, fighting the lump in your throat that made it difficult to speak. “I don’t even know what to say. This … This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me”. He smiled widely, pecking your forehead once again. “Thank you so much, Ji” “I’m glad, because you mean the world to me, Y/n. And I think there’s one more thing we’re missing to make this moment perfect” He brushed a hair strand out of your face, his touch lingering for a memory before his gaze dropped to your lips. “What’s that?” You smiled widely, already knowing what he is up to. After four months, you had figured out what he meant with that but you tagged along.

“This” The fondness in his eyes made your heart stutter and you couldn’t help but lean closer to him, capturing his lips with your own in a passionate kiss. His lips were soft, pillowy even, and you could even taste the chocolate from the hot chocolate that he had sipped on before. The kiss was filled with promises that only love could carry, the rest of the world melting away, leaving only the two of you and the quiet certainty that this was exactly where you were meant to be. When you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead against Jisung’s, your eyes shining with joy while your boyfriend tightened his arms around you in a protective manner.

Comfortably, you leaned back and cuddled further into his embrace and the blankets that were like a fuzzy cocoon, enveloping you in warmth. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else for the rest of your life. “We have got so much more to add to this box”.

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