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iamasaddie · 7 months

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I wish that I was good enough

paring: Javier Peña x fem!afab!Reader rating: explicit word count: 3k summary: Getting Javier Peña to be your fuck buddy was a win. You had fun, orgasms and absolutely no feelings involved. Right? warnings: oral (m receiving); unprotected PinV (‼️); creampie; light degradation kink; dirty talk; mentioning of cum eating; angst-ish; no use of y/n a/n: just nurtured my Javi brainrot. sorry for maybe bad Spanish? and maybe bad English? not beta-ed, I'm owning all the mistakes MY MASTERLIST

Javier Peña was a fairly simple man and he prided himself in that. He never lied about who he was, never put on a mask; what you saw was what you got, and what you got was a man who'd seen so much shit that not only his edges turned rough, his whole being was hard as stone; not only his hands were calloused from the heavy weight of a gun, his soul was as gentle as sandpaper. His were the first brown eyes you saw that weren't warm. He had trust issues, anger issues, and all them other issues you could think of, and he didn't think about fixing them. He just went on with his life, sometimes alone, sometimes with someone who could handle him for an odd month or two.

You were someone who stayed around the longest. Most likely that was due to you two never actually having a "relationship". That was exactly how Javi phrased it to you the first time you shared a drink in a crowded bar in downtown Bogota.

"I'm not good in all that ‘relationship shit’”, he mimicked quotation marks with his fingers before downing his third whiskey, dry.

You nodded then, you weren't in search of your life partner either, too much shit to deal with after graduation and constant struggle to find a job. Stuff just piled on your plate higher and higher, and you though that your hands would just finally drop under the weight of your fucked-up life, with every decision you made being a wrong one. But at the end of the day, you were just a human, and if you knew one thing it was that pent up frustration lead to eventual big bang in a bloodied bath. So as any other girl you thought of the easy and safe way out. You needed a fuck buddy, a friends with benefits situation. The friends part wasn't that important, though. Any type of relationship would just complicate your life further, and that wasn't something you could handle. But yeah, a fuck buddy didn't sound like such a bad option, and you put on your most flirtatious smile as you mentioned that to your new devilishly handsome acquaintance.

"Ain't I too old to be your fuck buddy?" He barked a laugh holding his drink close to the plush softness of his lips, anything but flustered after your explicit proposition.

"Do you have an expiration date?" You countered cheekily, you were prepared for something like that to leave his inviting mouth.

He shook his head at that, shamelessly taking all of your form in. His glassy eyes were darkened, and you knew it wasn't the lights in the damn place. Javi was practically fucking you, already spreading your legs on top of that bar table, fucking into your throbbing cunt even before he learned your name. And even after finding out there were painful 16 years between you, his dark smile didn't falter, and his eyes didn't stop hungrily roaming over your body.

That night you ended up going to his place and getting fucked so hard you were sore for the next three days. It wasn't a bad thing, even if Javi did give you a concerned look when you crab-walked to his bathroom. The experience made you limp at work and cast your eyes down under the all-too-knowing looks of people oh so worth it.

From that moment you've established an equally beneficial routine: you’d meet two-three times a week, he’d let out all his pent up anger on your poor pussy and you’d free yourself of all the frustration and get the best fuck of your life on top of that. He was calmer, you were more satisfied and focused. The only thing that could ever make you go back on this safe heaven of sexual fulfillment would be someone starting to develop feelings, however impossible that was. However if that was to happen, well… what the other one didn't know wouldn't hurt them, right? The routine would stay put until the truth came out, and God, the hopes were high for it not to happen any time soon.

It was one of your nights. Darkness of the room was filled with wet sounds, the smell of sweat more intense in Colombian humidity. Two completely naked bodies were positioned in the middle of a small bedroom, the dim yellow light from the bedside table made the sweat covered skin look majestic rather than dirty. Though the words spilling in the confines of the night were less than.

"Good girl, sucking my cock like a filthy slut you are. Eres fantástica, cariña." The man above you put his hand around your throat lightly, squeezing to feel his cock pumping in and out of your welcoming heat. Your eyes watered, the image of him getting blurry, but you continued stuffing your throat, anticipating the soreness tomorrow.

You felt saliva wetting the corners of your mouth and dribbling out with a mix of his precum. Javi looked at you, the adoration in his voice was a strange contrast to the violent desire burning in his eyes and the nastiness falling from his lips. He swiped your spit with his thumb and proceeded to pat your cheek gently, not a slap, but close enough.

"Look at you, you're so greedy for my cock it's pathetic." His thrusts became harder, heavy balls slapping your chin with every movement. "Going to leave you here as my personal fucktoy." You moaned, excitement resulting in arousal coating your thighs, you desperately needed him to fill the hole that was clenching around nothing, but you didn't dare pull away. "I know you'd like that, mi puta deliciosa."

When you felt the desperate need for oxygen burning up your lungs, you leaned back a little, earning yourself a gentle slap across your cheek and thick fingers squeezing your jaw.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going? I'm far from being done with you, hermosa."

"Fuck, Javi, just fuck me already. I need your thick cock inside me, please." Your voice sounded fucked out, raspy and pleading. You put your hands on his thighs, breathing heavily as he swiped your drool with two fingers, before shoving them into your mouth unceremoniously. You didn’t mind, swirling your tongue around the digits, and biting them gently.

"Can’t wait until I fucking give it to you. Do you just love begging so much, baby?" He chuckled and shook his head in fake disappointment. You knew it was fake because there was nothing that excited him more than seeing you so desperate for him, needing him splitting you open like only he could. It made his head spin and cock twitch. "Such a needy little slut." You hummed around his fingers, and he took them out, leaving a string of saliva on your bottom lip. "Come on then, hands and knees, baby, let's put that greedy cunt to use."

The speed of you jumping into the position for a good fucking was comical, and Javi did laugh until he saw your puffy glistening lips inviting him to sink his throbbing cock into. The mattress dipped under him, and you felt his hands enveloping your hips, squeezing the skin tightly as he teased you pushing his hips into you, but not actually penetrating.

"Fuck, Javi," you turned your head, whining, "stop playing, just fuck me already!"

You felt the slap before you heard it. His massive hand left a burning imprint on your ass, and then another one right on top of the first. He lowered himself, hugging your middle with his left hand and forcing you to press your back against his broad chest. You whimpered as he left a trail of bites from your shoulder to your neck, stopping at your earlobe. "Don’t fucking tell me what to do, baby. Stop whining. I’ll fuck you when I see fit, and you’re gonna take it and thank me, because that’s how it works. Because that is how you want it. Am I wrong?"

You shook your head desperately, annoyed at how right this is. Your whole deal only worked because he seemed to know you better, that you knew yourself. At first that scared you, but soon you craved it more than a glass of water on the worst hangover morning. His hand left another generous slap on your burning asscheek and this time it made you actually yelp in pain.

"I asked you a fucking question, baby, am I wrong?"

"No, Javi, no you’re not wrong."

"Damn right I’m not wrong." His hand traveled up your sternum, stopping as it found your right tit and Javi pinched your tight with sensitivity and arousal nipple. He was just as gentlemanly as you needed him, which was none. He let go of you and pushed you back in the original position, your elbows meeting the soft mattress.

You knew he needed you as much as you needed him, you had felt him throb on your tongue, his thick cock with its fat round head had been punching bruises into your throat for the last ten minutes, and you knew he was about to bust when you let him go. So you just needed to be a little bit more patient and he’d give it to you. He always did. Quenching your desire for him all up in your guts with little breaths, you lowered your head between your arms.

"That’s it, hermosa, waiting like a good little bitch." You smiled, knowing that he wouldn’t see it, and he caressed your hot ass with a light movement. "Just needed to discipline you first." You honestly didn’t understand the thunder of slaps raining on your asscheeks after those words. There was less than a second between every spank, and while you whined and shivered both in pain and pleasure, begging him to just let you cum, you couldn’t stop your back from arching further, giving him a bigger expanse of your skin to torture.

"Good girl, such a good girl, Hermosa, just taking all I give you."

Slap,

slap,

slap.

The last one made you jerk, his hand already wet with all the slick running down your slit and thighs twitched, making his slap land square on your begging pussy.

"Fuck!" The scream was literally slapped out of you. Javi stopped immediately, pressing his whole palm into your burning lips.

"Okay?"

It was more than okay, the raw sensation seemed to bring you even closer to your long-awaited orgasm than you anticipated, but it was your chance to make Javi stop playing with you. You did have an awful day and you just needed to forget everything being split open on his cock. "It will be if you fuck me already," you gritted through your teeth.

He let his hand gently pat your slick pussy, diving into your throbbing hole with two fingers and sliding in and out easily. "That pretty pussy is just drooling for me, baby. She got my hand all wet, can’t wait to give my dick the same treatment, can she?"

He didn’t wait for you to answer, and you didn’t think you’d be able to anyway. Not when the tip of his cock teased your pulsing clit, and then swiftly opened up your cunt, letting Javi bury all of him inside you in one deep stroke.

"Fuck," you could hear him speaking as he bit his lower lips, words muffled as he placed both of his hands back on your hips. You closed your eyes, feeling the familiar stinging fullness that you came to desire every morning. That you failed to recreate every day you were alone. That you came back to every night your phone buzzed with ‘you should come over tonight, hermosa’. "That fucking cunt ruined me, baby. Can’t fuck anything but your pretty hole. Squeezes me just fucking right." His little sentiments sent a warm feeling down your spine, even though you knew he was just saying it in the heat of the moment. He’d say stuff like that, feeling you cunt clench and more of your arousal seeping down of your stretched opening, making the sounds in the room absurdly vulgar.

It was like Javi just read your mind. He was a great fuck from day one, but what shook you the most, what made you addicted the most was his fucking intuition. It was like he saw all the cues your body was subconsciously giving off: when to slap you, when to go faster or slower, and when to drag his skillful fingers to play with your clit. You even told him once that whatever he did for work now he should quit, because being a male prostitute would get him way more money. He laughed, and then fucked your brains out on the kitchen table, eating your mixed cum out of your overstimulated pussy afterwards while your takeout was getting cold next to you.

Just like every other night you spent tangled in each other, he gave it to you just the way you wanted again. Slow, deep strokes of his cock that you felt from your opening and right to that spot inside you that he punched with every push. With every rugged breath his pace became more rigid, he was close, but you were closer. You lifted one of your hands off the mattress guiding it to your begging clit, but again, Javi read you before you could think. His fingers moved from your hips to the apex of your thighs teasing your bundle of nerves with tight circles. You could feel his balls slapping against you, his sweat mixing with yours, the coarse hair above his cock irritating the raw skin of your ass with every thrust.

"Javi, I’m gonna.."

"I know, hermosa, feel you squeeze me with your pretty cunt," he gritted through his teeth. "Come on, baby, I wanna feel you cry all over my cock, give it to me."

His thrusts became more rapid, the movements of his fingers unforgiving on your clit and you felt your knees almost give out as your mouth opened in a silent scream. You throbbed and pulsed around his still hard cock, and the drag of it inside you made you cry out with oversensitivity.

"Turn around, come on, wanna see you." He manhandled you like a doll, your mind not cooperating with your body as you dropped on your back welcoming him once again between your spread thighs. Javi didn’t wait a moment, crowding you with his arms, and dropping his mouth to suck little hickeys on your tits as he sunk back inside. You shuddered, still coming down from your climax as he chased his. His hips worked like a jackhammer, stuffing you full again, again, again. Wet lips left kisses, bites and licks wherever he could reach, and eventually his head fell into the crook of your neck, only his loud breathing and the lewd sound of skin slapping skin remaining in the quiet room.

You circled your arms around his neck, and tugged on his hair, sweaty strands of it slippery between your fingers. That little pang of pain was what undid Javi, and he let out a wail, like a wounded animal, filling you with rope after rope of his cum. He fell on top of you, your sweaty bodies sticking together.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck. Oh, fuck, I love you so much. Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero." His soft whisper was as loud as a thunderstorm in an empty field. And you felt like you were struck by lightning, mind sobering up from your orgasm in an inhuman past when you pushed his slick body away from yours. You didn’t pay attention to the sticky cum leaking down your wet thighs as he landed on his back, eyes looking at you with more than just physical pain.

"What the fuck did you say, Javi?"

You wanted him to say that it was in the heat of the moment, that he didn't mean it. Or that he thought of someone else while fucking you, so the words just slipped out and weren't meant for you. Anything, any fucking excuse.

"Lo siento, querida." He didn't blink, staying as still as a statue, droplets of liquid salt quickly soaking into the sheets under him.

You shook your head, trying to get his words out of your brain. No, no, no, fucking please. It felt like a betrayal. He was the only constant in your life, the only thing you were sure of, and then he decided to selfishly take that away from you? Fall in love with you? What a fucking prick.

"That's some fucking bullshit, Javi, we had a deal! We had a fucking deal!"

He nodded, closing his eyes, too weak to see the disappointment on your face. "I know, I fucked up, but I just... - "

"No," you were quick to interrupt him, jumping off the bed that had seen so much and pulling your jeans and a t-shirt without even trying to find your underwear. "I can't fucking believe you'd do that." Your eyes watered, angry tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, so you dropped your head lower to pick up your shoes and walked to the door barefoot.

"Hermosa!" You heard him calling for you, and then the sound of his movements. There he was, staring at you in all his naked glory, more desperate for you than ever. The only time you didn't want to satiate his craving. Wasn't ready to.

"Fuck you, Javi."

The loud bang of the door closing was nothing compared to the sound of his newly healed heart shattering into dust.

ummm... yeah. so, comment if you liked it? thanks!

#javier pena x you #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena #pedro pascal fanfiction #iamasaddie fic #javier peña x female reader

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lalal-99 · 26 days

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of sex at parties {h.j.} | track 4

©June 2023, April 2024 by lalal-99

Han Jisung x afab!reader | trope: slice of life, coming of age | word count: 6k

Synopsis: The one where you play Truth or Drink and things get a little heated.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: I know, I know... I wanted to have shorter chapters and update more frequently. But life happens. And it just so happens that I rediscovered my love for music making and production (not that anyone cares or even reads my notes). These things tend to engulf me fully and don't let me go until I'm forced out of them. When will I post the next chapter? Who knows? Could be tomorrow. Could be in two months (not likely...).

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Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You

“That’s almost too easy! Fuck Psy, Marry Bang PD and Kill JYP. Next!”

Yuqi’s answer sent Hwasa into a fit of laughter, almost bursting her pipes as she spat her drink into the nearby sink.

“Girl, you got some explaining to do about that.” When Wheein had prompted the blonde, she likely hadn’t expected an answer within two seconds.

“What do I have to explain about that? JYP was the obvious choice for Kill. Psy is famously known as the mother-father gentleman, so Fuck. And Bang PD…He has that TXT money. So, marry him and hopefully prevent him from signing any kind of prenup.” Yuqi took a sip from her cocktail, shrugging. The answer sent Hwasa straight into another breathless cough while her girlfriend steadied her. Otherwise she would have also sent her head straight into the marble countertop.

Two hours of dancing and three of Yuqi’s mysteriously strong cocktails after your arrival, you found yourself back in the kitchen. While all your closest friends surrounded you, everything seemed just a bit brighter. And a bit more funny too, with the alcohol running through your system. You were so relaxed even, you had somehow agreed to playing a few rounds of Truth or Drink. That you barely knew these people, or maybe because of it, you found yourself enjoying it more than usual.

So much so you had played it for the past 20 minutes, passing around questions with one simple rule. Either answer or empty your drink.

Sure, the gamification of drinking wasn’t the most intelligent decision. But it also gave you the perfect opportunity to get to know each other better. So, what the heck!

“Okay, fair.”

Yuqi spun the bottle once Wheein had passed her answer as acceptable. The rim landed on Changbin this time, the only male in your group. Leaned back against the counter, you had almost forgotten he was present. Well, almost, hadn’t it been for his visible affection for Yuqi. He always laughed at her answers a bit too loud, looked at her a little too long. She had ignored him for the most part, though you doubted it was out of spite or disinterest. She didn’t even realise his attempt to grab her attention; too drunk and into the game.

Changbin waited for her question, watching her lips move as she phrased it seconds later.

“Body count. Go!”

A little cliché, yes, though the boy seemed indifferent about it.

“Depends. What body count are we talking about?” Changbin counter-questioned as he crossed his buff arms over his bottle.

“What kind of freaky stuff are you into that you have several types of body count?”

Redness spread from Changbin’s cheeks to his ears as he shifted.

“I’m not into anything weird,” he defended, embarrassed by her suggestion. “I was talking more about sex or, like, mouth and hand stuff.”

“Alright. Let’s do sex.” That gave him base to answer.

“Then two.”

“Two?” Hwasa was surprised, leaning forward as she propped herself onto the countertop. She was a little shaky, swaying back and forth on her elbows.

“Yes. You sound shocked.”

“Why so few?” Yuqi’s filter had subsided somewhen between drinks four and five. The words simply tumbled out of her mouth at this point.

“Because,” Changbin shifted his weight onto the other leg, stalling. Not that his answer was particularly weird as it was double your body count, after all. But you couldn’t deny your own surprise. Until now, he had seemed very sure of himself. Carrying himself with a fair amount of self-confidence; almost oozing sex-appeal. You, too, had expected his body count to be much higher. “I don’t sleep with anyone I’m not involved with. I had two long-term relationships in High School, back-to-back. So, two people’s not weird.”

“What about the hand and mouth stuff body count?”

Changbin smirked at Yuqi’s curiosity, bringing his bottle to his lips, “Only one question per round.”

“Suspicious,” Yuqi’s eyes narrowed, “but alright.”

“Great, my turn then.” Changbin spun the bottle and the cap-part landed on Hwasa. She straightener her back, daringly waving her hands at him.

“Hit me!”

Contemplating his options, Changbin took a few seconds to find an appropriate question. Which wasn’t easy seeing he didn’t know and had barely spoken to her. “Okay. What was the most public place you ever had sex in?” Considering the expected sexual direction this game had taken, the question was fitting.

Hwasa ran her long nails through her hair, eyes fixing on Wheein in deep thought. “There’s been a few. What do you think, babe?”

“I don’t know. The whirlpool at my parent’s house?”

“Nah. That’s still pretty private. Your parents weren’t even home.”

Searching the mental drawers of her brain, Hwasa found a more fitting memory. She sent a knowing look towards her girlfriend, logging in her final answer. “I know. When we did at the movies.”

Wheein cocked an eyebrow as she took a strong sip from her drink. Her gaze, meanwhile, remained fixed on the colourful liquid, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah... That wasn’t me.”

“Of course it was!” Hwasa exclaimed, gesturing with her hands to revive the memory. “We watched that awful Tom Cruise movie.”

“I’ve never seen a Tom Cruise movie in my life.”

Hwasa should have left it at that, but her intoxicated brain didn’t take the hint. Knowing the crucial details of their backstory together—courtesy to Yuqi and her impressive interrogational skills—you sent her warning glares. Though she was too focused on her girlfriend to notice.

As extroverted as you had learned her to be, Hwasa had her fair share of relationships in the past. She had been with many men and women alike; some more serious and others not so much. Like her friends-with-benefits situation with Jackson, for example. After dating a lot through High School and the first two years of college, she eventually met Wheein. They loved each other very much, as anyone could tell after spending a few hours with them. An unspoken dynamic remained nonetheless, with Wheein being far less experienced.

She had been with men only for the first 20 years of her life. It took her another year to realise why her interest in them had never stuck. And another year after that to come to terms with her sexuality. That’s when she met Hwasa, their eventual relationship the first serious one she had ever been in. Let alone with a woman.

For as much as they loved each other, Wheein became insecure whenever Hwasa mentioned her previous partners.

So, yes. Hwasa should have probably let it be. But she didn’t.

“Erm, we sure did. I can’t believe you don’t remember. We got one of those loveseats in the last row, but the movie was so bad we started making out and stuff.” She didn’t need to explain and stuff further for you to know what she was hinting at. “I distinctly remember because my hair kept tangling up in your earrings. Almost lost an ear for sex that day.”

Clearing her throat, Wheein stepped back to lean against the counter, arms crossed. “Wasn’t me. See.” She lifted her hair, showing her ears to her girlfriend. It took a few seconds to realise her ears weren’t pierced. “It must have been one of your exes.”

A veil of tension spread over you at the hint of malaise in her voice. Hwasa’s cheeks heated up, a manicured nail between her teeth at the realisation.

“Oops.”

Despite the music blasting through the speakers, the silence was thick. It broke only once Yuqi spoke up. You had never been happier about her ability to find the place to pick up previous conversations.

“I had sex in a whirlpool once.” Heads turned in her direction as her face scrunched up at the memory. “Very sexy, but not comfortable. And then there’s the issue of protection. Who in their right mind carries a condom when sitting in a whirlpool?”

“So? What did you do?” Changbin’s curiosity was very sparked.

“We took a chance.” A shockwave overtook the crowd as though Yuqi had said something controversial. “I know. I’m not proud of it, either. But as I said, it was very sexy, and we didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

“I definitely do not recommend taking a chance. Especially not for the sake of not ruining the mood.”

All eyes turned to you as you spoke, only acknowledging your words once they had come out of your mouth. Maybe you should go slower on the alcohol, as your body started to act on its own account.

“Speaking from experience?” Hwasa questioned with a smirk as you took another sip from your drink before finally setting it down.

“A friend of mine,” you explained, crossing your arms as you leaned against the fridge behind you. “She winged it once and got pregnant.”

“Damn! How old was she?”

“14 and a half.”

“That’s rough. Did your friend keep it?”

“He’s turning four in November.”

Most colour drained from Yuqi’s face at those words and a shudder ran through her body. “Now I’m kinda glad the only thing I got from my story was a cold.”

The crowd fell into a bunch of giggles at Yuqi’s honesty, the tensive mood finally fading. She should consider her ability to cut right through tension a gift.

Your gaze tiptoed through the doorway into the living area where they met a familiar figure. Over the past half-hour, you had searched his attention on occasion. The alcohol in your system encouraged the search for proximity to Jisung. Now that you had reached the early morning hours, the crowd started dissolving, and it became much easier for you to follow his movements. That he had the same urge for your closeness hadn’t gone by you. Several longing gazes had found you, which the vibrating egg inside you had at least some part in.

Jisung was still with most of his friends—sans Changbin, who was with you, and Felix, who had left a while ago. Instead, a few girls had entered the chat, most prominently a girl around your age and height. Why was she so prominent? Well, she seemed to find anything and everything your boyfriend said hilarious. She threw her black bob-cut-hair back so much, you feared she'd break her neck. She had started a conversation with your boyfriend earlier and now hung on his every word.

While you had checked their whereabouts at first, you stopped once you noticed Jisung’s nonverbal cues. The constant gazes your way and his lip wandering between his teeth with every uncomfortable chuckle. They told you he did anything but enjoy the banter the skimpily-clad girl had engaged him in.

Your suspicion proved correct when Jisung reached into his pocket and the vibrations picked up. Reassurance, that while he was talking to someone else, his mind was still entirely with you.

You probably should have helped out your boyfriend. You knew he couldn’t act on his unwillingness to continue talking to her. Though Jisung had to learn to handle such situations at some point. And you were having such a blast with your friends, so you let him be. The group was still debating their most public sexcapades and your head turned back as your lips wrapped around your bottle.

Apparently, your diverting glances hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Are you not bothered by that?”

Looking down at yourself, you feared your outfit had malfunctioned in some way. You knew you shouldn’t have worn a skirt to a frat party, but Yuqi had convinced you out of your faded black jeans. You always wear them. Spice it up a little. Unbeknownst to her, you had already spiced it up, the egg inside you rubbing against your walls with delicious pressure. But you still let yourself be talked into the skirt. Now, you regretted all your life decisions as a group of people stared at you.

“Why? What is it?” You searched your outfit for the origin of Hwasa’s statement.

“I’m talking about your boyfriend. Talking to another girl.”

You found the two of them again, eyes wandering up and down the girl’s sporty figure. Her long legs were clad in skin-tight jeans that reached her narrow waist. A crop top and pair of spotless white sneakers rounded off her athletic look. Her hand ran through her jet-black hair and that was all it took to detect that she was flirting. If her longing glances at Jisung hadn’t already been hint enough.

“And a pretty one,” Yuqi added as you focused on the group again, shaking your head.

“Not really, no. Why? Should I?”

“I don’t know. I’d be if it were my girlfriend, talking to her.” Wheein blushed at Hwasa’s words, damage control overshadowing her previous insecurity.

“I wouldn’t be too worried,” Changbin interjected, grabbing your attention. “She’s been coming on to each of us at least once tonight. She started off with Chris and made her way down the line.”

“Even if she didn’t. They’re only talking.” You met Jisung’s gaze, his lips morphing into a smile once he noticed. The vibrations spiked on cue, and it took a little more focus from you not to react. “I trust him.”

Little could have destroyed the trust you had for each other. Either of you understood that you had gotten lucky. Being with your best friend and finding your soulmate this early on. Apart from that, neither of you had ever given the other a reason to mistrust them. You were smart enough to not let anything risk what you had.

When Jisung excused himself from the group, your sense of awareness was proven yet again. He left the girl mid-conversation to join your separate party which filled you with pride. His cheeks squished into their usual round shape as he beamed at you until he landed at your side.

“Are you talking about me, or am I so pretty you can’t keep your eyes off me.”

Your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you from behind and his chin landed on your shoulder. “It’s when he says things like that, that I know I’m stuck with him for life.”

The girls and Changbin chuckled at your words, Jisung meeting your gaze with a frown.

“What?”

“Nothing, baby. I love you.”

The stupid grin forming on his lips warmed your heart. “Love you, too.”

Your group picked up their game of Truth or Drink while your boyfriend stood wrapped around you. You tried focusing while Hwasa spun the bottle to land on you. The alcohol in your system caused a constant buzz, goosebumps rising as she asked you about secret kinks.

Your friends went positively berserk when you told them about your exhibitionistic tendencies. Not you. Not well-behaved Y/N, who never even swore. You refrained from further mentioning how you sometimes ditched underwear in everyday situations. Yuqi’s eyes would have probably bulked out of her skulls, comic-book-style. You also didn’t note your fondness of public play, fearing Hwasa would suffocate, forgetting to breathe.

“Sorry, but I can’t believe we could walk in on you two getting your freak on, entering a lecture hall. Or the cafeteria. Or the football court. Although…Would we walk out on you in that case?” Hwasa questioned once she had found the brainpower to pick her jaw up from the floor.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you told your friend in amusement. “We’re pretty good at hiding. You wouldn’t even know we’re there.”

A whole new set of toxins filled your bloodstream as you talked something so dirty. Quickening palpitations were enforced by your boyfriend, pulling you closer against himself. The mere mention of your spicy secret was enough to drive him crazy. He seemed even more excited, being the only one knowing you were living your kink right that second.

Your very sexy, very tempting boyfriend shared your interest in all things exhibitionist. Although you usually kept the PDA down whenever around people. Sure, you exchanged kisses here and there. But even hugging typically only occurred when no one was around. It was somewhat precautional. So people around you weren’t even slightly suspicious when you decided to go commando. Or if either of you controlled whatever Bluetooth vibrator the other was wearing. No one would suspect anything like that from the couple that hardly held hands in public.

Your friends accepted your revelation after many more questions, which remained unanswered. They went off-topic—or rather, off you as the focus of it—as they debated their willingness to have sex in public. And you didn’t dare complain.

This way, no one noticed Jisung’s hand creeping up the back of your thigh until he reached your ass. He kissed the back of your neck, blowing cool air against the moist skin as it tickled you. Trying to stay calm and keep your secret antics secret from your friends was half the fun. You bit the inside of your cheek as his breath tickled you, his teeth soon moving to nibble at your earlobe.

The two of you swayed to the music, concealing your ass which was grinding against his growing bulge. It was no surprise when you felt him stiffen against the movement, a proud smirk appearing on your face.

Your ability to turn each other on in seconds was still as present as during the first few weeks together.

“Baby,” Jisung hummed against your ear, hands grabbing your hips to still you.

“Mhm.”

The music was loud, and the people around you were drunk enough so no one could follow your conversation.

“It’s been about three hours of me playing with you like this. How about we tend to that upstairs bedroom situation?”

“I don’t know.” The wondering tone in your voice was fake, teasing, and Jisung could tell. “I’m not convinced. Also, kinda having a blast here.”

“I don’t think this is a matter of conviction,” Jisung whispered, lips wandering over your neck. His hands travelled under your shirt, fingers digging into your flesh as he manhandled you towards the exit. “It’s been over a week since we last did it. You’re as desperate as I am.”

“Am I?”

“We should go upstairs. You know, to check.”

Inspecting your surroundings, right now seemed the best possible moment to leave. Everyone was deep in conversation, attention straying from the two of you.

“Okay. But let’s make this quick. Wouldn’t want to miss too much of the party.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m gonna be real fast.”

Jisung took you by the hand, leading you out of the kitchen and towards the staircase at the back of the room. You looked back at the group as Oohs and Get Its were thrown your way and gave your friends a thumbs up.

From that moment on, your mind was on Jisung.

You ran up the stairs behind him, and into the dim, unoccupied hallway. Once you had ensured you were on your own, you pulled Jisung back to finally kiss him.

His hands came to your hips on impact, keeping you steady against him as your mouth opened to let him in. Tongues intertwining and teeth clashing, he stepped forward, pushing you against the wall. Jisung didn’t take a breather, grinding himself against you and giving you no time to think. People could have come out of one of the rooms at any point, catching you. Not a hint of secrecy remained as the alcohol and your boyfriend’s tasted roamed your veins.

Soon enough, his mouth travelled down your jaw, tongue meeting the skin of your throat in a longing suck. He went all in, his hands running up your body until he met your breasts. The pressure against your throat provoked a throaty moan.

You hummed at his actions, feeling even more desperate for his full attention.

With your hands in his hair, you pulled him closer to your chest, his lips soon pressed against your cleavage. It reddened under his kisses and your breathing accellerate as he rubbed over your nipples. H knew your body better than you, strong arms keeping you in place as he handled you the way that always made you go crazy. Made you crave him.

“Baby—” you groaned into the air, head thrown back to grant him more access to your neck.

“Told you, you were as desperate as me.” The smugness in his voice remained uncommented as both his hands dipped under your bra. He pinched your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs and you ground yourself against him. A gush of wetness filled your panties as though they weren’t already soaked. It had been hours of him, controlling the vibrations inside you. “I bet you’re leaking out of your panties.” Jisung’s hand ran down your side until it reached the edge of your skirt. He felt below it, fingers dancing over your hot skin until his palm landed at your centre, cupping you. A groan left his lips. “Mhm, just like I said. You’re dripping.”

“Fine. You caught me,” you admitted with a sigh. “What are you gonna do about it, though?”

His face remained close as he turned the vibrations to the max, giving you no chance to prepare. Bending your knees at the rush of pleasure, you moaned into his mouth, pleading up at him. With his hand still cupping you, he could feel every contraction of your walls. Two of his fingers pushed the egg deeper into you. His palm against your clit further increased the electricity coursing through your veins.

“Did you say something?” Your mind blurred from the vibrations as mumbled pleas tumbled over your lips. Jisung smirked at your inability to form words, the toy slowing down after a while. “Didn’t think so.”

When he opened the door to the first bedroom he found, you followed him inside. Before he could even ask you to strip, you were already starting to undress. You were about to take your skirt off when Jisung stopped you with a request you couldn’t find it in you to deny.

“Leave it on.”

Of course, your insatiable, horny boyfriend would want to fuck you in a mini-skirt. You hadn’t worn anything that short in years. Add stockings and a cropped Rolling Stones shirt, and this would have come close to the outfit you had met him in.

Jisung removed his clothes, tight jeans requiring more attention as he struggled pushing them over his erection. After watching him take forever to rid himself of the confines, you decided to help him. Guiding his hands away from his crotch, you took over. A suggestive smile played on your lips as you held eye contact, dragging the pants over him and down his toned legs.

He expected you to lay back down once he was freed, letting him push you back into submission. Though, you had other plans at that moment.

Stripping your boyfriend of his briefs, his length looked too delicious to let the moment go by. So, you leaned in and took him into your mouth.

First, you concentrated on the head. You let the tip of your tongue dance over him before adding further lip action. After mere seconds, he was red and swollen, droplets of white crawling down the sides. He was twitching against your lips, head rolling back at the delightful dissatisfaction. Slow-paced ministrations were as arousing to him as they were frustrating, so you already expected his irritation.

Not a minute later, Jisung’s hands crept to the back of your head, attempting to guide you further down. In the current power position you found yourself in, you wouldn’t have any of that.

“Don’t move, baby. Let me take care of you.”

“’s not enough,” Jisung mumbled but complied, hands resting on your cheeks instead. “I need more.”

“I know. Just enjoy.”

You moved back to his head, sucking at him as your fingers dug into his thighs. They twitched against your touches, every other suck making him weak in the knees as they buckled.

Once Jisung started panting, you sped up, fitting more of him into your mouth. You could tell it became harder for him to hold back, hips bucking into your mouth on occasion. You didn’t stop him, enjoying his despair for the warmth and the lustful sight only you could provide him with. It made you feel powerful, the dominant side overtaking the logical one as you took him as deep as possible.

Gagging around him, a breathy “Fuck!” escaped him as he got oh so close to his orgasm. At some point, he must have taken the remote control out of his pocket. As he was nearing the edge, the vibrations increased, causing a moan to slip past your lips and around his length. He stifled an ecstatic scream with the back of his hand.

Your performance suffered for a mere second and Jisung took the opportunity to pull out. With new-found energy, he shoved you to lay on your back.

Typically, you held the more dominant position in bed. Sending your boyfriend to heaven by riding him like there was no tomorrow. All the more exciting was it when Jisung was so on edge he couldn’t stand your teasing. When he couldn’t wait to be inside you. That’s when he used his physical superiority to overpower you and have it his way.

You definitely had a soft spot for how he dominated you when he was particularly desperate.

With your back against the mattress and his arms on either side of your waist, there was no way for you to get up. Jisung used this advantage to connect his mouth to your breast, sucking at your nipple like you loved. Your eyes rolled back at the incredible sensitivity of each of his touches. After spending significant time at your chest—granting both sides the same amount of attention—he kissed his way further down. He flipped your skirt up and over your stomach, your underwear long stripped and you left exposed.

Desperate to get inside you, you expected him to remove the vibrator and replace it with himself. When he started kissing your thighs and stomach, you were surprised. Though you didn’t dare complain. Not when his lips burned your skin, threatening to leave lingering marks.

“So sweet.”

He didn’t mean for you to hear the whispered words against your core. The smile creeping onto your face turned to a loud moan as Jisung dove in. His lips found your clit, wrapping around it in a harsh hug. When he started sucking on you, the vibrations speeding up again, you believed you saw stars.

Your vision blurred, eyes moving to watch him, but you could barely make out shapes. Too overwhelming was his mouth on you, hips soon rolling against him to urge for more speed. A smirk against your flesh was followed by him repositioning your legs over his shoulders. It made him feel so much closer, your bodies basically becoming one. His mouth practically glued to your cunt.

At first, Jisung kept an agonising slow pace, eating you like he had all the time in the world. After a while, as your breathing sped up, so did your boyfriend’s mouth. For every count that your heartbeat accelerated, so did he. Licking a little preciser, sucking a little fiercer. All the while, he was grinding against the mattress, chasing his own release which was fast approaching. So much so you could tell from the humming against your core that sent shivers up your spine.

“Sungie—” you breathed out, hand coming to his hair to stop him. “Baby. Inside. Please.”

As he didn’t react at first, you thought he hadn’t heard you. You repeated your pleas, and finally, with a wall-tightening pull on your clit, he removed his lips from you. “I heard you the first time. Just couldn’t bring myself to stop yet.”

His words caused a breathy chuckle out of you as he took the vibrator out of you before kissing his way back up your body.

“You have protection?” you questioned as your fingers grazed his cheeks, heart eyes staring into your boyfriend’s.

“Always.” Connecting your lips in a soft kiss, Jisung got up for a few seconds to search his pants.

“Good thing we’re always prepared, huh?” You propped yourself up on your elbows as you watched your boyfriend take his wallet out of his pocket. All the talking about public sex and taking chances had unlocked some long overwritten memories, and you chuckled with an uncomfortable shiver. “At least now we are.”

The look on Jisung’s face faltered as he went through every compartment of his wallet. Once, twice, and then a third time. You could tell from his expression that something was wrong. “Actually, about that…”

“Don’t tell me you don’t have condoms.”

“It seems like I forgot to fill up my stock. Don’t you have one with you?” Jisung asked, searching for your clothes on the bedroom floor.

“Have you seen my outfit? I barely have enough room for my phone.”

“Oh, I have seen your outfit, alright.” A suggestive smirk followed his reply as he climbed back over your body. “That skirt is doing things to me I can’t possibly put into words.”

Kissing you with more passion, Jisung’s lips soon wandered down your neck again.

“I could pull out.”

The laugh coming through your lips as you tilted your neck for better access was much sarcastic. “Have you learned nothing from the past? We are not taking chances.”

“So, we’re supposed to not have sex instead? Have you learned nothing from the past 20 minutes? We need this.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, view roaming through the room. Jisung’s gaze said something along the lines of ‘You have a plan, right?’. And a plan you had. Rolling out from under your boyfriend, you crawled over to the nightstand. “What’s one thing every frat always has at hand?” You pulled open the upper drawer, feeling its content as a smile spread on your lips. “I knew it.”

With an overjoyed “Yes!”, Jisung grabbed the silver square from your hands, opening it with his teeth. “This screams for a celebration?”

“What did you have in mind?”

The ambiguous grin crossing your boyfriend’s face made you curious and aroused you simultaneously. From experience, you knew his ideas in this area never quite disappointed. Most of them added into your bedroom routine; adapted into your standard practices.

Jisung soon crawled back over your body, erection pressing against your entrance as he held the vibrator between his fingers. “Baby?”

“Ssh.” One of his fingers came to your mouth as he smiled at you, happy. “Just enjoy.”

When he slipped inside you, your walls instantly wrapped around him. Sculptured for his exact shape and size. Having him this close, hitting your spot as though he himself had placed it right at his tip, filled you with complete satisfaction. You could have remained in this position for hours. Being close to him. Warming him. Though soon enough, the calm inside you was forced to evacuate, the electrifying vibration of the pink egg meeting your clit.

You jumped at the feeling that was only enforced as Jisung started moving. Rapidly. Sending you to heaven within seconds as you crumbled around him. Nothing but his name escaped your lips, like a holy mantra.

It didn’t take either of you long to finish, both of you on edge from having waited over a week to be together like this. Which, quite frankly, rarely happened. And when the orgasm finally hit, toes curling and walls crashing, it sent him into his own high.

It took you minutes to come back down to earth.

“Damn.” You chuckled, agreeing, and your eyes met when you tilted your head to look up at him. You rested on his chest as it rose in unison with your breathing. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You kissed for a while, simply enjoying the intimacy before you pulled away to get up from the bed.

“You want to go back already?”

While you retrieved your clothes from the floor, your boyfriend still laid in bed, naked, propped up on his elbows. “What? You need more aftercare or something?”

“Nah. I thought you might. That was really intense just now.”

You pulled your top over your head, tugging it in your skirt before strutting towards him. With your fists planted on the mattress, you bowed over him, giving him a long, heated kiss. He bit your lip as you drew away, one of his hands coming to your jaw to keep you still.

“I need to pee.”

“Wow,” Jisung replied with a giggle, letting go of your face. “You’re nailing the dirty talk, baby.”

You blew a kiss at him as you walked to the door, leaving the room to find a bathroom.

A long hallway with a handful of doors on each side opened before you. The house was much more spacious than it appeared from the outside, fitting around a dozen people. And that was just the first floor. Any of these doors could lead to a bathroom but this was somewhat urgent. So, you opted for a rushed yet systematic approach.

You chose the door next to the one you had come out of, finding nothing but an empty bedroom. Much like the one your boyfriend was currently dressing in. The door after that was some form of storage unit, the only thing close to a toilet a bucket on the floor. If your search came up empty, you might revisit the idea.

One after another door led to more disappointment. Not until you opened the last door on the left side you found a room that wasn’t an unoccupied bedroom. It still was a bedroom—very much so—but it wasn’t even close to vacant.

The layout came into focus, illuminated by a ring light standing in the corner. As you further roamed the room, you spotted two bodies pressed together in the comfort of one of the two beds. You had no idea how you even got a close enough look to realise you knew one of the two people. It was likely your eyes, meeting for a second. That’s when you recognised his signature freckles, his face dropping as panic overshadowed.

“I’m sorry.” As fast as you had entered the room, you left it, eyes wide in confusion and surprise. It took you less than a few seconds to add two and two together.

Before you could think further about it, you got pulled out of your haze by none other than your boyfriend.

“Found a bathroom, baby?”

“Huh?” He tiptoed towards you and a grin spread on his features as he inspected a stinging hickey on your neck.

“Bathroom?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t find one.” You smiled as he pulled you closer, kissing the dark mark. “I’ll use the one downstairs.”

“Let’s get back then. Wouldn’t want to miss out on all the fun, right?” A wink followed his question which you didn’t have the mind to return properly. You couldn’t quite forget what you had seen, hands entangling with your boyfriend’s as you threw one last look back into the hallway.

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cher-rei · 2 months

Note

can you pls write something where reader says i love you first and trent is surprised but super happy and he says it back

the 'L' word [ T.A.A ]

pairing: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: in a rush , you leave trent in slight shock with more than just the usual goodbye.

genre(s): established relationship, fluffff !!!

[wc: 1.6k] masterlist

notes: this is such a cute request I'm dyinggg. if there's one thing that I love more than the one-bed trope, then it's casual and unexpected love confessions.

eight letters. eight letters, yet it held so much meaning.

you never liked throwing the saying out so casually, especially to people. it never really managed to roll off your tongue as easily as it did for others- heck you still called it the 'L-word'.

there were a handful of people you have said it to of course, your parents, your siblings, and every other fictional character you felt yourself falling hopelessly for but there was never any other reason to hand it out.

you often had your friends say it to you, so casually as if it meant nothing- and that was the issue. to you, it meant everything. it wasn't just a phrase or an affectionate affirmation. to love someone, you believed that the weight of it had to be felt in your core.

that you'd find yourself at your utmost vulnerability to the point where you were certain that you'd never regret saying it, or even feeling it. and that was all thanks to your grandmother when you were at the ripe age of 7

"don't you go throwing that around now just because barney said you could. love is not just a word. it's a declaration and--"

"mum, she's 7. you cannot be putting this in her head when she barely knows the difference between left and right," your mother complained but you continued to look up at your grandmother with intrigue.

your grandmother scoffed and lazily gestured to the t.v. "tell that to that damn dinosaur."

a declaration. now you're not saying that you didn't deem anyone worthy of your love, you'd show it in many ways— but saying it was something else.

so when you left your boyfriend's house that afternoon to see to an emergency (your friend mia had just been broken up with) and you saw how trent's expression dropped knowing that you weren't able to come to his match, your heart strings were tugged like never before.

you'd been together for a year and a bit but it felt like you've been together since the beginning of time and it could confidently be said that this was the first match of his at home, that you were going to miss. of course, it saddened you, and there was the slight reconsideration but this was one of those times where you knew where you had to be.

you looked at trent with a softened gaze as you stood in the hallway, ready to leave. "I'm sorry baby, you know that I wouldn't miss any of your matches for the world."

there was a slight pout on his lips and you couldn't help but melt at how adorable he looked at that moment. "you're killing me here," you said with a smile and pulled him into a hug— huge mistake seeing as you were already struggling to leave.

a feeling of warmth spread through your chest when he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head in the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss there every so often. "no I understand," he muttered, but the slight disappointment was evident in his voice and that hit you like a truck.

it was subtle moments like this that you cherished the most. moments where trent didn't hide his feelings and made it obvious that he didn't want you to leave. when you two first started dating he was rather lacklustre and preferred to keep his thoughts to himself.

it would leave you wondering if he actually liked you, or if you were being too much by expecting him to say "I miss you" or be openly affectionate and make it known that he wanted you around. but after three confusing months, he started to ease in and let his feelings be and show you that he cared.

for instance when he gets home from practice and doesn't say anything and immediately comes to hug you, or join you on the couch just to relax. or when he sits on your bed while you're working just to be near you, because your presence genuinely matters to him.

the moment of silence was interrupted by your phone ringing, which was an immediate sign that you had to hurry.

"I told you that her boyfriend was a piece of shit but mia didnt listen. his name is literally kyle babe," trent stated with a raised eyebrow and reluctantly pulled away from you so that you could finally leave.

you hummed in response and gave him a small smile, "love makes people irrational and stupid."

somehow that brought a smile to trent's face, a look of adoration in his eyes as he leaned in to kiss you. "no wonder I'm such an idiot."

oh, dear god.

he caught your lips before you could even manage to think of a response. your cheeks flushed immediately accompanied by a swarm of butterflies and the thought of nothing else but him. your brain practically short circuited the second you felt his lips meet yours with so much tenderness.

the feeling was incomparable- his hand cupping your cheek while the other pulled you closer to him in hopes that you wouldn't ever leave him, the way your heart skipped a beat when you felt his lips tug up into a smile and especially the way he looked at you when he pulled away.

the moment you took to catch your breath you lost your train of thought just by looking into his his eyes that held so much adoration and affection for you. just one look and you were ready to give him every bit of you for the rest of your life.

you were happily drowning in absolute bliss.

you bit back a smile to stop yourself from looking like an idiot and gave him one last peck on the cheek and opened the front door, turning to look at him one last time. "you're going to be amazing today and make me proud okay?"

oh how much trent loved it when you said things like that. it had him weak in the knees and smiling from ear to ear. "yes ma'am."

you rolled your eyes at the comment with a scoff and finally walked out, absolutely out of your mind and lost in the feeling of utter bliss. "shut up, I love you so much bye."

you immediately shut the door and trent's heart dropped to his stomach.

he didn't get to say it back.

during the full 90 minutes that's the only thing he managed to think about. the fact that he didn't get to say "I love you" back.

not because he didn't— it was blatantly obvious to everyone who knew him that he was head over heels in love with you. everyone but you knew. and he hated that you didn't know, or are least he though so.

just like you, he'd show it in the things he does for you, the gestures, the constant reassurance and reminders that he's proud of you no matter what you do. but he's never said it for the mere reason that he was scared.

he knew how much it meant to you, and the thought of scaring you away was the last thing he wanted. if it weren't for that, then he would've shouted it from the rooftop the minute you said yes to being his girlfriend.

but he didn't have a rooftop right now, and you weren't here. what he did have however was a live broadcast with over 40 000 people at the stadium and confirmation that you were watching the match from mia's house because like you said, you wouldn't miss it for the world.

he was barely listening to what the interviewer was asking him, just nodding along with nothing but the thought of kissing you until you were both out of breath when he got home.

he tapped his fingers at his side and tried to form a response to the question about their win, seeing as his mind was elsewhere but played it safe and gave the interviewer an answer that wasn't too vague. but then again wasn't "I'm proud of everyone, we played extremely well despite the few injuries and I'm glad we were able to take tonight's win." enough??

"and how about your goal? that corner was amazing and had everyone's jaws on the floor."

he completely forgot about that to be honest. the goal slipped his mind entirely, but he did remember what he thought about at that moment, with a smile beaming from the pitch. you.

he gave a tight-lipped smile. "I was just as surprised, to be honest, but I'm glad that it stirred some excitement," he chuckled and continued to listen to the interviewer who managed to bring you up.

"this is the first time in over a year that your girlfriend wasn't able to make it to a home match, that must've made you feel a bit upset?"

"uh," he trailed off trying to find the words. "she had an emergency but I know she's watching from home so that brought me some comfort, so she wasn't gone entirely."

the interviewer smiled at him and he knew what question was next. the one he'd been waiting for all evening. "is there anything you want to say to her then?"

hell yeah there was.

"first of all, I was right about kyle and you should listen to me more, second, that goal was entirely for you. something to brag to your friends about, and last but not least--" trent took a deep breath, unable to stop himself from smiling from ear to ear with a heart full of warmth, "--i love you more."

#footballer imagine #trent alexander arnold fluff #liverpool fc #trent alexander arnold x reader #footballer x reader #liverpool x reader #fanfic #footballer x you #football imagine #trent alexander arnold fanfic #cherrei writes

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thebearer · 8 months

Note

oh my godddd write their wedding night or day after please!!!!! tender and loving and worshipful

it's sorta mentioned in i'll be so happy loving you which is the full wedding/engagement fic if you haven't read it :) but i'll do a slutty smutty expansion here lol. minors dni 18+

Marcus' name flashed across Carmen's screen, the ding from his phone pulling his attention, fumbled hand running across the bedside table until he found it.

From: Marcus

Hey Chef! Hope you and the Mrs. are doing good. Did you get a chance to try Sankt Peder?

"Who is it?" You grunt, still on top of Carmen, hips swiveling and grinding down with a slow rhythm.

Carmen clicked his phone off, tossing it on the table before his hands found their way back to your hips. "Marcus," Carmen sucked in a breath, his chest sweat licked and red.

You hummed, nails digging back into his shoulder, continuing your gallop on top of him, slow and purposeful strides up and down his length. You'd been going at it for hours now- days, really. Since the ceremony... two days ago? Three? You weren't sure, you'd lost count.

It was like a flame had been lit under the two of you, a hunger that no matter how hard you tried- and you both did- it was never satisfied. You couldn't get enough of Carmen. Your husband. Oh, the phrase just had your heart bursting, filling with this ravenous need all over again.

"Everything ok?" You asked, eyes pinched in pleasure, tilting your head back slowly when you sunk down, sitting fully on his cock just to feel him.

"Yeah, he, uh- oh, fuck- he wanted to know if we'd been to that, uh, that bakery." Carmen stuttered out in a low rasp, hands gripping the fat of your ass, spreading you so he could go deeper, hips bucking against yours.

You laughed, tilting your head so it was pressed against his forehead. "D'ya tell him we've been too busy?" You grin, a moan caught in your throat, nose brushing his.

"No." Carmen grinned all dopey, positively pussy drunk and in love. "Reply to him later. Just-Just wanted to make sure it wasn't urgent." He was desperate for you to move. You'd stilled, hips rocking in a punishingly slow pace.

"I wouldn't have stopped if it was." You grinned cheekily. "Better tell them the boss is busy."

Carmen snorted lightly, one hand on your spine, the other cradling your jaw to pull you in for a sweet kiss. You could taste yourself still on his tongue, remnants of the cigarette he'd smoked before too. You sighed into the kiss, content, happy.

Carmen's tongue snaked past your teeth, pulling you closer and closer. He would crawl inside you if he could, you were convinced of it. The way he was so needy now- balls deep inside of you, trying to get deeper with his tongue. Carmen flipped you, hand sliding from your jaw to the back of your head, cradling it from hitting the mattress, lips still moving against yours.

You let your legs hook over his hips, bringing him deeper inside of you, a new angle you knew all too well while he started to move. Hands tangled in hair, his release pooling beneath your ass while he fucked you, soft moans and quiet giggles filling the room with the steady, rhythmic squeak of the mattress springs.

You didn't make it to the bakery. Not on that trip anyways. When Carmen and you returned months later, you were happy to report back to Marcus that the bakery was delicious- better than you imagined. But for now, you were two newly weds, stupid in love, content in your own company and ecstacy.

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lovely-josuke · 10 months

Text

❝MOTHER LANGUAGES — SPIDERVERSE HCS

summary ; pavitr with a hispanic girlfriend who teaches him some spanish and he teaches her some hindi.

pairing ; pavitr prabhakar x hispanic fem!reader (no specific race stated)

note ; teehee i was so excited to show off the new layout 🤭 i literally have so much fun writing for pavitr. this concept was so cute, i started working on it immediately so thank you to the anon who requested it <3 mwah 🫶

• — pavitr prabhakar !

about three months into dating, pavitr started practicing some spanish on his own. went about his way to get a dictionary that took forever for him to find. he starts writing the words out and takes his time to pronounce them. he takes note that he’s extremely great at reading spanish just a little troubled on the way to say the words.

the very first phrase he ever told you in spanish, he had a slip of paper with the sentence written down. pavitr wanted to make it sweet and maybe tell you right after kissing you but poor boy forgot the phrase. so he had to squint and read off the torn paper.

“tu eres la chica de mis sueños.” (t: you are the girl of my dreams) the second he finished saying it you jumped on him, kissing all over his face, telling him how cute and adorable he is.

you told him that you were practicing hindi in secret to surprise him as well, but you were having a lot of trouble. it makes a big smile spread on his face to know you both had the same intentions.

it’s where he offers to teach you how to speak, read, and write hindi if you can do the same for him with spanish. you agree and then he goes, “hehe >:) and teach me the bad words too muhehehe” you’re just like “pavitr 😭”

pavitr really excited when you’re teaching him spanish. he’s listening intently and repeating each word after you. he doesn’t think it’s hard, but it’s definitely good to have a native speaker helping you out and giving tips.

keeps a separate notebook filled with words and phrases he wants to tell you. of course, they’re all him telling how much he loves you. you also have a separate notebook with hindi written in it and it’s mostly you practicing to write ‘i love you’ and memorize it.

he knows it might take you a while to fully understand hindi and he’s okay with that. you’re the making the effort and that’s what he loves the most about you. finds your confused face cute when he starts rambling in hindi.

you two practice by only having conversations in each others language. he finds it super helpful and you both will correct a word if needed. text messages will sometimes shift from spanish to hindi to spanish again.

his heart and feelings grow for you even more when he sees you talking to his aunt in hindi. she thinks it’s so sweet that the two of you are learning each others languages and don’t find the barrier to be a bother. she even starts to help you too in secret. she wants you to surprise pavitr with what you learned.

i cannot stress this enough. loves to introduce you as his girlfriend in spanish. “esta es mi novia, ella es mi novia”. mi novia this, mi novia that. he gets like a schoolboy when he says it. if he gives you gifts, pavitr always writes a little note that says “para mi querida novia” (t: for my dear girlfriend) or something along those lines.

whenever he meets someone who is either hispanic or speaks spanish too, he’ll speak to them in spanish just so they can ask where he learned. all because he can’t stop saying how his girlfriend taught him how to speak spanish.

he starts picking up on the expressions too. accidentally let “tch, no mames miguel!” slip out when he was getting sent on a new mission. miguel’s head whipped over so fast and just looked at him so shocked like, wtf did you say to me?

“no mames? no mames?! como que no mames miguel?! who taught you that huh?!”

“mi novia teehee :)”

#atsv x reader #spiderverse x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar x you #pavitr x you #pavitr prabhakar x hispanic reader #atsv pavitr #x latina reader #latina reader

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kurokoros · 4 months

Text

somewhere after midnight (s.h.)

Rated: M

Words: 1.2K

Pairing: shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader

Summary: You agree to watch Eri for your older brother Shouta while he's out of the country on a mission. He forgets to tell you about the hot young man—Shinsou Hitoshi—currently living in his basement. Life is full of surprises.

AN: this is a late birthday gift for @southsidewrites <3 part one proper should be posted sometime in the next week, I just really wanted to include this brief scene from Shouta's POV.

Warnings: naked encounters, sorry you're an Aizawa now but blood relation isn't mentioned, part two and three will lean towards smut

Chapters: Prologue | Part One | Part Two| Part Three

Shouta knows he isn’t being subtle as he checks his phone again.

There are dozens of case files spread across the coffee table in front of him. Folders are stacked on top of each other, piled annoyingly high. He’s supposed to be reviewing a series of criminal profiles with varying degrees of redacted text, but by the fifth document he could already feel a headache building behind his eyes. At least, that’s the excuse he’s been giving himself as to why his attention keeps slipping back to his phone, face-up on the table and partly wedged under a folder as thick as his arm.

From the right angle, he can see the newest notification that pops up each time the muffled vibration from his phone cuts through the silence. Even he can tell he’s been a little too interested in the random notifications. Usually, he doesn’t pay any attention to social media, and he has a special ringtone for any messages on the Hero Network, so he’s never been in the habit of checking his messages like a teenager. If he was a student, he would have scolded himself by now.

What’s worse is that he knows that Hizashi has been pretending not to stare at him for the better part of an hour. He’s been sly about it, glancing over the top of his book whenever the phone vibrates and trying to catch a glimpse at whatever notification has popped up, but not sly enough that Shouta hasn’t noticed his increased interest and the stupid smirk on his face that he’s trying to hide.

As if on cue, the phone vibrates again, rattling the folder on top of it. Instinctively, Shouta leans forward to get a better look at the screen. In a bid to seem less suspicious, he grabs his coffee mug off the table and takes a slow drink as he glances at the notification lighting up his phone. It’s from Fwitter.

When did he even set up Fwitter notifications?

On the other side of the coffee table, Hizashi snorts.

Shouta stares over the rim of his mug with what he hopes is the unimpressed glare that usually makes his students shut their mouth before they can shove their foot in it. Unfortunately, Hizashi isn’t one of his students.

“It’s barely been twelve hours,” Hizashi reminds him suddenly. “I bet they’re having an awesome time together, and nothing bad has happened.”

He sets his mug down a little too hard. Coffee sloshes over the rim and drips down the side. “I know,” he grinds out from between his teeth, silently cursing Hizashi for his phrasing. Why would he say it like that? “I’m not worried.”

“I’m just saying. It’s perfectly normal to be nervous about leaving Eri for an extended period of time. This is the first time you’ve been gone for more than forty-eight hours since the adoption went through, right? And just because your sister is totally awesome and will do a fantastic job babysitting, that doesn’t mean you aren’t—”

“I’m not worried,” he says, cutting off Hizashi’s attempt to psychoanalyze him. So what if he’s been keeping an eye on his notifications just in case his sister has a question, or Eri calls because she’s had a nightmare? He’s not paranoid, he’s just being vigilant. He’s a pro hero. It’s his job.

“Sure.”

His phone lights up with another notification, but he forces himself not to look at it. “I’m not.”

“Okay.” The corner of Hizashi’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Stop that.”

“I’m not even—”

The phone vibrates suddenly. The stack of paperwork on top of it shakes. Instinctively, Shouta glances at the notification that pops up.

It’s not Fwitter this time.

He barely registers that the little icon next to the notification is the one for his personal messages before the phone is in his hand and he’s swiping to open the text. He scans it quickly, deflating when he sees that it’s nothing important.

According to his sisters, he’s mastered wearing a distinctly apathetic expression, but it must’ve cracked slightly in his haste to grab his phone, because Hizashi puts his book down and leans across the table. “Something wrong?” he asks, craning his head to see the text.

Shouta exits the app and closes his phone before the other man can see anything. “No,” he says as he places it face-down on the coffee table. “It’s just Mindjack.”

“Oh, right! He’s covering your patrol route this week! Anything interesting happen tonight?”

He only bothered to give the report a cursory glance, but it wasn’t long by any means. Hitoshi isn’t exactly known for having long-winded reports, but he is thorough. “If you think a couple of drunks picking a fight in an alley is interesting, sure.”

Hizashi hums. He shifts in his seat, probably reaching for his book again, but pauses. Shouta glances at him and though he notices the funny look on Hizashi’s face, he turns back to the files he’s supposed to be reviewing.

“Speaking of Hitoshi,” starts Hizashi, who waits for Shouta to look at him before he continues, “did you remember to tell your sister about him?”

Shouta freezes in his seat, hand hovering over his coffee mug. He’s pretty sure his eyes widen almost comically as he thinks back to the conversation he had with his sister earlier today. It was brief. He didn’t have a lot of time before he left her with Eri and hopped on the plane for this mission. Did he tell her about Hitoshi? He mentioned studying, bedtime, feeding the cats, emergency contacts…

“Shit.”

With a groan, he leans his head back against the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. He hasn’t had enough coffee yet to deal with this.

“You didn’t tell her?”

He cracks open one eye to glare at Hizashi, who’s staring back at him in obvious bewilderment. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?” Hizashi’s voice pitches up an octave, making Shouta wince. “She’s going to freak out if she sees some strange man come out of the basement!”

Glancing at his phone, he mulls over his options, considering the time difference and the likelihood of his sister answering the phone. “I’ll call her in the morning,” he decides. Hizashi opens his mouth like he wants to protest, but Shouta cuts him off. “It’s late there. She’s probably already asleep. Besides, chances are they won’t even run into each other. They’ll be fine until tomorrow.”

It’s less than an hour later when Shouta’s phone starts to ring. At some point, he forced himself to stop looking at it every thirty seconds, and he lost track of it beneath all of the files. It takes a moment of shoving folders aside, and by the time he digs his phone out from beneath the mess of papers spread across the table, he’s missed not one, but two calls.

The phone starts vibrating with a third immediately.

It’s his sister.

He sighs. “Shit.”

#bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #character: shinsou hitoshi #fic: somewhere after midnight

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rebsins · 9 months

Note

hey! I'm loving your writing! I was wondering if you could do a headcanon of what tom and the reader would be like in an interview together, and the interviewer asking questions about the relationship and everything

hiii, thank you so much🫶. sorry for responding this late but I was on vacation😭😭. For those who sent requests, don’t worry I’ll be doing them soon!Anyways I hope you’ll like it!! 🩷

Tom Kaulitz x reader in a interview

Ok so, when he is interviewed alone with his band, you are the only thing he genuinely wants to talk about.

His favourite question has always been “How is your relationship with y/n going?” ever since you two started dating.

When he gets asked that, he just begins ranting on how amazing you are and how your relationship is going better as the days pass by. He brags about dating you a lot; he is just so proud to have you by his side😭🙏.

He zones out , completely ignoring the interviewer, with a little smile and eyes full of adoration as if he was looking directly at you.

After some time, Bill starts to get irritated at him and tries to snatch the microphone from his grasp. 💀

When this happens, your boyfriend just continues talking about you while avoiding Bill’s ‘attacks’. It often ends with a little fight between them and with Bill getting the microphone and teasing Tom about being a total simp.

At the end he just laughs and says “I can’t say that I’m not one for her”. 😍🥰

If you two are interviewed together, he always has his hands on you, in some way. Wrapped around your waist, holding your hand, touching your thigh….He just wants everyone to know that he is taken and that you’re his😾.

Most interviewers, start the interview, by compliment you on your looks and Tom, every time, would immediately jump in and say “Of course, she is my girlfriend, she always looks stunning” with a little smirk, and an hand on your shoulder, to accompany the phrase.

You, even if you are famous, both loved and hated being interviewed😭.

Sure you loved spending time with your lovely Tom, but HATED when they showed paparazzi pictures.

One time the paparazzi had caught you both fucking wasted at the club and they took photos of you basically on top of Tom, eating each other’s faces.

You hoped that they wouldn’t show the photo and ask about it, but of course they fucking did it.

As soon as it appeared on the big screen you covered your face in embarrassment, groaning loudly at the way your mini skirt did little on covering your ass😭🙏.

On the other hand, Tom, was man spreading with a proud smirk on his face as he told the interviewer “Wow, I remember that night…well, at least, the beginning of it. Y/n couldn’t keep her hands to herself ,but I was surely not complaining😏”.

That resulted with you shoving him off the couch and him laughing his ass off at your flustered face. 💀🙏

Fans love your interviews, because you both tease the hell out of each other.

One time they asked you “What’s the weirdest thing that you learned about each other?”. Tom’s face had brightened up as he immediately responded “When she’s drunk, she literally goes up the stairs on four legs. It’s hilarious ”. (totally not me even when I’m sober 🫡)

You had turned your head to his direction“I literally do not, shut up”. He smirked knowingly “I literally have a video”, “You better not”. As he reached for his phone, you snatched it and got up.

You looked at him dead in the eyes “I have a video of you, drunk, trying to do the hola hoop with your neck and then hitting your teeth with it ” you warned him.

His eyes widened as he immediately got on his knees “please, everything BUT THAT” he pleaded. You smiled with victory, but..

“You are being too cocky when, that night, you literally stole a cart and crashed, with it, against a wall” he deadpanned, as the interviewer immediately turned to you “is that why you had a cast for three whole months?”.

This man had to learn to shut up 💀.

You immediately turned around “I SWEAR I HAD FALLEN FROM THE STAIRS. HE IS A LIAR” you yelled desperately as you pointed at him. He got up and took the opportunity to snatch his phone back “I have a photo” he laughed.

Silence, before… “TOM DONT MAKE ME BREAK YOUR FUCKING GUITARS” you yelled angrily at him, “NO OK, WE CAN TALK THIS OUT, YOU DON’T HAVE TO HARM MY BABIES”. 😭

You two are literally so chaotic together, but you both, and everyone, loved it so freaking much🫶.

#bill kaulitz #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel #tokio hotel fanfic #tom kaulitz #x reader #georg listing

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stanningstanhd · 9 months

Text

THIS is The Most Beautiful Bucky Smut scene I have EVER read in my life.

I’ll link it below for you guys, but stop what you are doing right now and read this.

There are fics that deserve more recognition and then there are stories like the one I just read. I wanted to spread the word to everyone about the most amazing, beautiful, raw, stunning, and alluring sex scene of any Bucky Barnes fanfiction I’ve ever read. Putting Nicholas Sparks, that one fic Possessed, to SHAME.

Like, seriously.

Stop what you are doing right now, and listen to this rant I’m about to go on. This is a well deserved rant.

I recently came across this fic called Take It Back by @allandoflimbo . The fic itself is probably the most underrated piece of art I’ve ever come across on here. To the point where after I read it it blew my mind that some cheaters only had a few hundreds likes, no comments, and some chapters not even in the hundreds, because when I tell you this story is BEAUTIFUL. I mean it with all my heart and soul.

You’ve probably get told a lot by other people go read this fic you’ll love it go read that one and you probably save them for later, but this is a story you do not save for later.

I am telling you right now, if you are reading this post, go goddamn read this heart wrenching and beautiful piece of art. DO IT!

Back to my purpose with this post…this story has a love scene in it. A smut scene. Sex scene, or what ever you prefer to call it. It’s in the core part of this book and so beautifully and perfectly placed. Even reading it alone is just…the amount of emotions, conviction, and goosebumps that will unravel over your body is insane. There are smut scenes in fics that make you hot and bothered, and this one does make you feel that way, but it also does something else to you. You break and heal at once. You cry and smile, you whimper and you have to take deep breaths.

I’m going to quote some of it here for you guys so you have a general idea of what I’m talking about.

The moment leading to the kiss.

There’s slow burns, and then there’s tension of unbelievable thickness, paced out so well that Alandoflimbo captures perfectly. You can tell she poured her heart into leading up to the kiss. That when it finally happens, you feel the same exact emotions they both feel when it happens.

First it’s the dialogue.

“You know why.”

Perfect. Three little words and the reader knows what’s going to happen.

It’s so quiet that the only thing you two can hear is the sound of his breathing, your tiny feet walking, and the distant hum of the refrigerator. You see the muscles in his back tense when you get closer to him, the silence in the room becomes unbearably quiet. It was screaming at you both, it was the answer you both needed in your own way. The silent scream was the phrase he had said moments ago that still lingered in the air like a damn siren. Because you loved him.

…

You stretch out your fingers flat against his back, making him sigh. The moonlight peeks in through his large window as your hand drags slowly up his back. His breath hitches audibly at the feel of it. His eyes close together again as his right-hand falls against his leg. He rubs his hand there on his jeans. trying to get rid of the nervous sweat that had gathered on the edge of his palm. He can’t breathe.

There’s more, and so much much more before they kiss. And when they do it’s perfect.

And the smut scene…by god. BY FUCKING GOD.

Ten thousand words that would put Nicholas Sparks to shame. That’s right, ten thousand words.

Like I said, I’m still surprised at how unknown this story is because I’m not exaggerating when I say it is the best BuckyxReader fic out there. Please, please read it. This gem deserves all the attention in the world.

If you’re interested in just the sex scene, it’s in Chapter 17 “Our First Dance”. But I would recommend reading the full thing from the beginning if you can. I believe the author also put out a BuckyxOC Version if that’s more your thing.

This story is beautiful. Magnificent. Bravo @allandoflimbo , bravo.

The link

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #marvel #MCU #fanfic #bucky smut #bucky fandom #winter soldier #50 shades of gray #wattpad #bucky x oc #bucky x reader

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mint-yooxgi · 1 year

Text

{11} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 10,076

Warnings: A lot more angst than normal, one line that could be interpreted as suicidal thoughts, talks of past toxic relationships. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I have finished editing it!! I tried not to miss anything, but please excuse any mistakes that still come through. I hope you enjoy, I definitely, didn’t see this chapter taking the turn it did when I was planning for it. Hehehe, a lot happens. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Mini Masterlist

“What do you mean, ‘she got away’?” Seonghwa is this close to losing it on the younger demon right now as he leans against the wall for support, attempting to maintain his breathing for the time being.

Currently, the eight of them all find themselves spread out around the dining room conversing about the turn of events earlier in the day. Frowns reside on all of their faces, snarls beginning to tug at their lips.

“Exactly what I said,” Yeosang sighs, exasperatedly. “I scoured that entire mall from top to bottom thrice looking for her, but she had long since vacated the premises. I even scouted with the animals in the area, but nothing.”

“I should have torn her apart right where she stood, witnesses be damned,” Hongjoong growls, eyes shifting black along with his brothers for a brief moment.

“Believe me, we all wanted to tear her apart,” the glass held in San’s hand shatters as he tightens his grip, shards raining onto the floor at his feet.

“As much as I agree, and despite the conversation we had with our beloved earlier, I think ripping apart another person whom she believes to be an innocent bystander right in front of her very eyes would not have been favourable for us.” Jongho voices. “She’s already upset at us from the argument. Doing something like that might have made her never trust us again, even if we explained it to her right afterwards.”

“Jongho’s right,” Yunho sighs, leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “We’re going to need to tell her the truth.”

“Yeah, let’s just go up to our beloved while she’s still mad at us, and upset from what her friend said before we left, and just dump this information on her.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Like, “hey, Gorgeous. So, an ex of mine, San’s, Hongjoong’s, and Mingi’s is still in love with us and hates your guts. She has control over your best friend’s mind right now, and knows who you are. Oh, and silly me, did I mention she wants to completely eviscerate you?” He scoffs, “yeah, I’m sure that will go over well.”

“Well, maybe don’t phrase it like that,” Mingi huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“How else would you suggest we deal with this, then?” San shoots a pointed look at the taller male before crouching down to clean up the broken glass at his feet.

“I think apologizing to her would be a good start.” Mingi narrows his eyes back at the other male, the two holding each other’s gazes for a moment.

“Mingi’s right,” Hongjoong sighs, running a hand through his hair. “As far as she’s concerned, our behaviour was sudden and uncalled for. If we hadn’t scented Miyeon earlier we would have had no issue letting her go off by herself for an hour with her friend.”

“Speak for yourself,” Seonghwa mumbles, a puff of air escaping him.

“We all have difficulties being away from her for any period of time,” Jongho reminds the eldest. “It’s not just you, Hwa.”

“You’re telling me none of you would have taken issue with that fact?” Seonghwa quirks a brow at all of his brothers standing around him. At the way his brothers remain silent, he huffs. “That’s what I thought.”

“Do you not trust her?” Yeosang rounds on the eldest, fingers biting into the skin of his arms as he holds them crossed over his chest. He’s already wound from not being able to obliterate Miyeon earlier like he so desired, and hearing his brother be a smartass right now isn’t helping.

“Of course, I trust her.” Seonghwa replies, appalled he would even need to be asked that question. “It’s others that I don’t trust around her.”

“Watch how you speak, brother,” Yunho’s tone is dark, a threatening growl on his tongue. “We might think you’re referring to us.”

The two males glare at each other, snarls tugging at their lips as the eldest takes a step towards Yunho in challenge, both of their gazes bleeding black.

“Enough,” Hongjoong shoots a pointed look at either male, “the both of you.”

“This is exactly what Miyeon wants,” Jongho states, looking around the room at each of his brothers. “This is all just some sick, twisted game to her. To have us infighting with one another lowers our defences, so she can sneak right in and claim her prize.”

“To think that this is the ending to the day that we had,” Wooyoung cradles his head in his hands as he leans forward in his seat. “Is it always going to be three steps forward, and one step back?”

“No,” Hongjoong shakes his head. “It won’t always be like this.”

“How can you be so sure?” Mingi voices almost all of their thoughts, all of them turning to look at their Captain with despair in their eyes.

“You were all there,” Hongjoong breathes out. “You felt her emotions just as I did when she opened her mind to us at that table. We all felt that fondness she has for us building beneath the surface.”

“Today proved just how much progress we’ve been making,” Yunho confirms.

“She opened up to us.” San leans against the wall for support as he thinks back to the way you held his hand. Not once, but twice. His skin begins to tingle, the ghost of your touch lingering against his own. “She wanted to know more about us, too.”

“Exactly,” Hongjoong nods. “You all felt her emotions. She can’t fake that.”

A small silence settles over all of them as they let their memories of that discussion at that table with you flood their minds. Their hearts swell, warmth blooming in their chests as nothing but pure fondness and love swims through their veins. Today meant so much to them. More than you’ll ever know.

Just then, a soft mewl draws their attention to a little black kitten who attempts to jump on top of one of the dining room chairs, only to fall right back down to the ground. A whine of complaint leaves his lips, turning his head as his wide, golden eyes scan the room, locking onto the closest male.

“Who…?” Yeosang’s inquiry dies in his throat as he sees the kitten on the ground before him.

In an instant, Kuroo has trotted over to Mingi, rubbing himself against the male’s leg before said man is leaning down to pick him up. As soon as the kitten is in his arms, Mingi begins scratching his chin.

Mingi meets Yeosang’s gaze. “I did. I just thought it best not to overwhelm her since we got back. I didn’t want her to think that any of us were trying to win her affection back with apology gifts. Not that I need to apologize.”

Yeosang nods softly, silently agreeing with the taller male as four others shift slightly in their spots.

“Where is she now?” Seonghwa voices the question on all of their minds.

“In her room,” Yunho supplies, a gentle smile pulling at his features. “Sleeping.”

“She’s had a long day,” Jongho sighs, wanting nothing more than to join you; to pull you in close as he wraps his arms around you, your head resting on his chest as you listen to his heartbeat. A heart which beats only for you.

“Let her rest,” Wooyoung voices softly. “She needs it.”

“There’s a few things we need to do before tomorrow, anyways.” Seonghwa shares a look with all of them, of which they understand immediately.

First things first, they’re going to fortify their wards and barriers to their domain to make sure Miyeon cannot get in. Then, they’re going to start attempting to track her down. Not only do they want to eradicate her, eliminating that threat from you, but they also figure that they should free Reina’s mind from her control. It’s what you would want them to do, anyways.

“Tomorrow, we,” Hongjoong shoots a pointed look at Seonghwa, San, and Jongho, ”will also apologize to her for the way that we acted, and what we said today.”

“It’s been on my mind since it happened,” San admits remorsefully, looking down at his feet.

“Good.” Yeosang comments with a firm nod of his head.

“As it should be.” Yunho adds, shooting a pointed look towards the eldest as he says this.

“Who’s going to tell her about Miyeon?” Wooyoung sighs, looking up at his brothers standing around the room before him.

“I will.” Hongjoong states, somewhat nervously. “Though if things go badly, I’ll need all of you to help me.”

“Of course, Captain,” Jongho smiles reassuringly at their leader, followed immediately by the others.

“Let’s just make sure we don’t fuck up this badly again,” Seonghwa sighs, pushing himself off of the wall he had been leaning against for support.

“Agreed.” A unanimous chorus echoes around the room from all of them.

In the blink of an eye, all eight males are dispersing, going to check on each of their own personal wards that they’ve placed around their domain. Then, once that has been completed, they add more. Just in case.

Like hell are they letting Miyeon anywhere near you again.

The next morning, you wake up to a slight headache. You weren’t able to sleep very well overnight: restless as you tossed and turned through what little bouts of sleep you managed to get. What little light that filters through your curtains has you rubbing at your eyes, irritated by the intrusion.

Letting out a sigh, you toss the covers off of your body, deciding to at least freshen up for the day. Like hell are you changing out of your sweats, though. Once you’ve completed your morning routine, you’re making your way, quite sluggishly, to the closest kitchen for some breakfast.

As soon as you step through the threshold to see a particular demon standing behind the counter, you’re nearly turning around immediately. You don’t want to deal with him right now. Only, that familiar twisting of your stomach in hunger pulls you into the room, and you know that he’d just teleport to the other kitchen by the time you walked there, anyways. Besides, you run the risk of seeing the other three you don’t really want to at the moment, especially if you step into their territory.

The way San’s eyes light up as soon as he sees you, despite the somewhat wary smile that tugs at his lips, is instantaneous.

“Good morning, baby,” he greets, somewhat tentatively.

You walk past him and to the fridge, sparing nothing but a disinterested side glance in his direction as you do.

San’s heart squeezes in his chest, hating the way he knows that he deserves how cold you’re being to him this morning. His hand begins to shake as he balances himself on the counter for support.

“There’s some fresh fruit for you in the fridge,” he tries again, noting how you open said object in the next second.

Sure enough, when you pull open the one side of the fridge, you see the glass bowl of fresh fruit practically glaring at you from the shelf directly at eye level. You let out a sigh through your nose, reaching inside the fridge in the next moment.

San’s breath hitches in his throat as he watches you do so. From the angle he’s standing at, he cannot tell what you’re grabbing. All he does know, is that he hopes beyond anything that it’s the bowl of fruit he spent this morning cutting up for you. He knows how much you enjoy fresh fruit, especially in the morning, and he wanted to use it as a way to apologize. Thus, if you pull back with that peace offering held in your hands, he knows then that things aren’t as bad as they seem.

Only, when you pull your hand back for him to see only a yogurt held in your grip, his expression falls. That blazing hope he had so desperately been holding onto dwindles down to small embers, the all too familiar feeling of fresh tears springing to his eyes.

The sound of the fridge door practically slamming shut echoes like a final condemnation throughout the room. The feeling is only emphasized by the way you sit at the counter on the furthest stool away from him, not even sparing him another glance after grabbing yourself a spoon.

“You don’t know how remorseful I am, baby,” his gentle voice cuts through the tense silence surrounding the two of you. “If I could take it all back in an instant, I would.”

He hears the way you let out another long breath through your nose, your throat bobbing as you swallow in the next second.

San moves closer hesitantly, as if approaching a wounded animal that could lash out at him at any moment. His eyes are sorrowful, expression downcast as he comes to stand right across from you, only the counter separating the both of you. Still, you refuse to even meet his gaze.

“Baby, please,” his voice cracks, choking on his emotions as the first tear spills onto his cheek. “Please, look at me.”

“Stop calling me that.” Your voice is firm as your brow furrows in discontent, and he recoils in shock.

“Baby-“

“Do you think you deserve to get to call me that right now?” Finally, you meet his gaze, and the intensity he sees swimming behind your eyes has his breath hitching in his throat.

Even during those first two weeks of you staying with them you never reacted like this whenever he called you ‘baby’. Sure, you might have looked at him in irritation when he let the pet name slip a few times, but it was never this.

“Then, tell me,” he’s begging at this point, but he doesn’t care. “Tell me what I can do to make it better.”

You say nothing for the moment, letting the silence settle around the both of you once more. You can feel his stare locked onto you, noticing how his fingers cling onto the edge of the countertop for dear life. A tear falls onto the top of his hand in the next second, but he makes no move to wipe it away.

In the next moment, Jongho appears in the kitchen beside you. “Darling, are you okay?”

He reaches out for you like he always does when he greets you in the kitchen during the morning. Only, before he can so much as place his hand onto your back, you stiffen.

“Don’t touch me.”

Your voice is the coldest it’s ever been towards the youngest since arriving here. A fact which makes him recoil from you, as if burned. His expression falls.

Instantly, the two others whom you didn’t want to see yet today are in the room, worry on their features.

“What’s going on?” It’s Hongjoong who poses the question, a slight crease to his brow. Except, he gets completely ignored for the moment as you shut your eyes in clear annoyance.

You really don’t want to deal with them all today.

“Darling, please-“

“You don’t get to call me that right now.” Your eyes flash open, looking at the stunned demon standing beside you.

“My Love-“

“No.” Your burning gaze is on Hongjoong in an instant. “None of you deserve that privilege of calling me as you please. Not after the stunt you pulled yesterday.”

“We regret our misstep more than you know,” Seonghwa voices, taking a step towards you, but at the harsh way you glare at him, he retreats for the moment.

“What can we do?” Hongjoong’s voice is merely a whisper, his expression reflecting nothing but the pain he feels suffocating his heart at this very moment at the way you’ve closed yourself off from all of them again. “What can we do to prove to you how remorseful we are?”

You inhale a deep sigh, feeling all of their saddened gazes on you for the moment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Jongho shed a tear.

Clutching at the spoon firmly in your one hand, you bring your other one up to rub at the bridge of your nose. Closing your eyes for the moment, you lean against the counter using your one elbow. In the second it takes for you to motion to all of them with your spoon, pointing at the space opposite the counter where San still stands, they’ve moved. As soon as you remove your hand from your nose, your lids fall open to see them all facing you, heads downcast as shame washes over them.

“Do you understand why I’m no longer comfortable around any of you four right now?” You question.

Their expressions fall even further, the tears falling freely down both San’s and Jongho’s cheeks as they all remain silent in front of you for the time being.

“You decided to attempt to control me.” You begin. “Was everything you said to me at that table a lie? Do I truly not get to retain my autonomy with you? Is it all just an illusion? Something you’ll use to paint a pretty picture of delusion with in order for me to stay with you all willingly?”

“No, please, that’s not-“

“I’m not finished.” You immediately cut Seonghwa off, your eyes narrowing at the eldest who stands the furthest away from you at the opposite corner of the counter. “I do not need your permission to spend time with my friends, or my family for that matter. You do not get to dictate who I can and cannot see. You do not get to speak to me however you please.”

A pointed look is sent to the eldest who stiffens beneath your gaze.

“Trust goes both ways, and it’s clear none of you trust me, let alone respect me. I am fully capable of making my own decisions. Was it not you who told me that you purposely wanted to keep my mind intact?” At this, they’re all inhaling sharply. “How can I trust you if you cannot trust me?”

“We do trust you-“

“I am not finished.” Your piercing gaze shifts to the youngest across from you. “You surprised me the most yesterday, if I’m being honest. I expected something like this from them-“ you motion between Hongjoong and Seonghwa with your spoon before turning your full attention back to Jongho, “but you? You disappointed me yesterday. You all did. Especially considering the day we were all having.” A sigh. “That had been the best day I had had, let alone the best I’ve felt, in months. Then, you all went and did this.”

A brief moment of silence settles around you as you pause to catch your breath. The only sound you can hear right now is the ticking of the clock in the corner, muffled by the sound of both San’s and Jongho’s muted sobs. Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice a single tear trail down the side of Hongjoong’s face.

“Do you want to go back to how things were at the start?” You look at them expectantly, and you see fear flash in all of their eyes.

“No, please-“ San reaches across the counter for you, only to watch as you lean away from his touch. Immediately, he retracts his hands, inhaling a shaky breath as he wipes at his eyes.

“We never want to go back there again.” Seonghwa’s voice is rough with his emotions, tears gathering in the corners of his own eyes and threatening to fall at any moment.

“Good. Neither do I.” You reply. “But that’s exactly how it felt to me when you four pulled that stunt yesterday. The fact that I even had to suggest a vote is unbelievable. You wanted to take that choice away from me. You made me feel helpless, and I hate that more than anything. I do not want to go back there again.”

Your words from all those weeks ago ring through their ears, causing them to inhale sharply as the vivid memory of the second worst night of your life echoes through their minds.

The first of Seonghwa’s tears begin to fall from his eyes.

“If you wanted a mindless doll to toy with, you would have shattered my mind a long time ago.” There is no waver in your voice when you say this, but they can still hear your emotions ringing through loud and clear. The distrust and uncertainty alone have their hearts feeling as if you are personally suffocating them with your every word. “You do not control me. You do not own me. I am not yours. Do you understand?”

A chorus of ‘yes’ echoes around the room, rough and strained from each of them as they swallow their emotions for the time being, wiping at their tears with the backs of their hands.

“Good,” you nod once, “because if any of you ever pull another stunt like this, you will lose all of my respect.” You take the time to meet each one of their gazes, the regret shining through clear as anything in their eyes. More than all of that though, you can see genuine fear. The fear of losing you. You narrow your eyes at them, “and I will never trust you again.”

Your words are like knives, stabbing into their hearts from every angle.

“If you continue to prove that I cannot trust you, or if any of you speak to me in that kind of tone going forward,” you add, shifting your gaze between all of them as you stand from your spot, your yogurt still sitting untouched on the counter. “I don’t care how it happens, but you will never see me again.”

The sound of your spoon clattering on top of the counter manages to pull them back to the harsh reality before them. Your back is turned to them as they see you already halfway to the door to the kitchen.

The eldest reacts before any of them have a chance to, throwing his pride aside for the moment as he instantly has his arms around you from behind, a sob tearing from his throat.

“Please,” he begs, a tear landing on your shoulder as he clings to you for dear life. “Please, don’t go.” He chokes on another sob. “Don’t leave me.”

In all of their long years of life, none of them have ever seen him act like this. Once or twice, sure, he’s swallowed his pride long enough to beg for something, but not like this. No, never like this. Never have any of them seen the eldest so desperate, so broken as he clings onto you like you’ll disappear the very moment he releases you.

“Seonghwa.” A long sigh escapes you. “Let me go.”

For a moment, he hesitates, reluctantly removing his arms from around your waist as another sob tears from his throat. The way he can quite literally feel you slipping right through his fingers is unlike anything he’s ever felt before, and he hates it.

Seonghwa wants to scream. They all do. How could they have been so stupid? Miyeon be damned. After all of the progress they made with you, it’s like they’re back at square one. The thought alone of losing you, maybe not physically, but like this, has them all on their knees before you in an instant.

You blink down at the four demons, each kneeling on the ground in front of you. Their arms are extended out towards you, palms of their hands facing upwards in a sign of complete surrender. None of them dare look up at you for the moment, too ashamed to meet your gaze as they stare at the floor beneath your feet.

“We are so unbelievably remorseful for the pain that our words and actions have caused you,” Hongjoong’s voice is strained as he squeezes his eyes shut, more tears escaping him and falling to the floor beneath him. “I am ashamed of how I acted, and of what I said. We do trust you. We do respect you. I never want you to believe that we do not.”

“We never want you to feel trapped with us, but our actions have proven otherwise,” San’s words are hoarse from all of the crying he’s done, but he doesn’t care. He’d run his voice raw, tearing his throat apart for you, if that’s what you want. Whatever it takes for you to forgive him, to see how remorseful he is, - how much they all are - he will do. No questions asked. Anything to get you to stop looking at them with such distrust in your eyes. “There is nothing I regret more than making you feel as such."

“You are not an object for us to own, or control as we see fit, and we apologize for making you believe we thought as such.” Seonghwa swallows the dryness in his throat, voice rough with all of his emotions. “I sincerely apologize for acting as such, and speaking to you in such an unforgivable manner. I will never do so again.”

“We will never act like this again. I will never disappoint you again.” Jongho’s voice trembles, biting his lower lip to prevent it from wobbling as he takes a deep breath in. “Please, accept our deepest and sincerest apologies. We- I never want to hurt you again.”

As soon as Jongho’s words are out of his mouth, they’re all extending their hands towards you, clasping them together palms downwards as they press their foreheads onto the ground at your feet.

Without shame, and without an ounce of hesitation, all four demons bow to you in apology, holding their positions before you without so much as another breath shared between them.

For a moment, all is silent. The only sound that remains still comes from the clock ticking away in the corner of the kitchen. Each second that passes by feels like an eternity the longer you go without saying anything, too. At least, to them.

You take a moment to observe the men on the ground before you. Four Kings of the Realm who have proven to you time and time again that they would do anything and everything for you, including bend the knee without a second thought. Here you have them, some of the most powerful beings to have ever graced this earth, kneeling before you in the deepest, and most formal of bows, asking for your forgiveness.

You sigh. “Get up.”

Hesitantly, they all lift their heads to look up at you, eyes shining with the tears that still fall freely down their cheeks, leaving wet trails in their wake.

Your arms are crossed in front of your chest as you take the time to meet each one of their gazes, looking over all of them in the next moment with a stern expression on your face.

“I accept your apology.” Your voice is firm, unwavering as you see relief instantly spread across all of their faces. “However,” all of their bodies tense, “that does not mean I have forgiven you.”

“What can we do?” Immediately, Seonghwa is pleading with you once more. “What can we do to make this right?”

“How can we make this better?” San repeats his words from earlier, eyes sorrowful as he meets your gaze.

“You’re going to have to prove it to me.” You respond. “Pretty words mean nothing if there is no substance behind them.”

“Anything.” Jongho breathes out. “We’ll do anything.”

“Fine.” You acknowledge his words. “You can all start by explaining to me why you acted in such a way after everything that you said to me yesterday.”

The four demons all share a brief look with one another as they all stand back to their feet after a quick jerk of the chin upwards from you.

Softly, Hongjoong nods to himself, wiping at his lingering tears with the back of his hand. “It was because of Miyeon.”

“Miyeon?” Your brow furrows instantly, the confusion clear in your voice. “Reina’s girlfriend?”

“She’s not actually Reina’s girlfriend,” Seonghwa tells you, clearing the roughness still lingering in his throat in the next second. “She never was.”

“Explain.” Your eyes narrow immediately at the four demons who attempt to begin composing themselves in front of you.

“Miyeon is a demon like us,” Jongho informs you. “Though, not as powerful, obviously.”

“She-“ San’s voice catches in his throat as he meets your gaze, unsure of how to tell you this. “We-“ he pauses, his lips parting with the unspoken words he wants to say. That is, until he’s sighing and looking at his feet, shame washing over him for the nth time that day. “She’s mine, Wooyoung’s, Hongjoong’s, and Mingi’s ex.”

You blink, eyes widening as your brows raise in disbelief. To say that you’re completely caught off guard would be an understatement. “Excuse me?”

“It was over twenty years ago now,” Hongjoong adds with a sigh, running his hand through his hair.

“Hold up,” you raise your hands in front of you in a stopping motion, “I was expecting some type of bullshit excuse, but this? Stop lying to me.”

“We’re not-“

“You all really expect me to believe Reina’s girlfriend is really your ex from twenty years ago?” You cut Seonghwa off in disbelief. “Unlikely.”

“It’s true.” Another voice from the open doorway of the kitchen draws your attention, and you see both Mingi and Yeosang standing there.

“They’re not lying to you, Dearest,” Yeosang meets your gaze, his expression tender as he looks at you. “Though, I wish it weren’t true.”

Your headache pulses, and you find yourself rubbing at your temples with the fingers of your one hand. Heaving a sigh, you turn back around and sit in the same seat you had just been occupying at the counter. It’s probably just a hunger headache, anyways.

“Okay, so Miyeon is your demonic ex-girlfriend from twenty years ago?” You rest your elbows on the counter before you, interlocking your fingers in front of yourself as you lean forward slightly.

“Unfortunately,” Mingi sighs, coming to stand at the side of the counter closest to you. At the way he notices your untouched yogurt still sitting on top of the counter, he’s quick to open the fridge and pour you a glass of your favourite juice. Of course, he notices the bowl of fresh fruit right away, only causing him to quirk a brow at San as they meet each other’s gazes from across the way.

You nod in thanks, taking a sip as the others move to stand around the island once more. Yeosang, of course, takes the opportunity to pull out the chair beside you, sitting down at the counter in the next moment.

“We promise that we’ll explain everything.” He says, shooting you a comforting smile in the process.

Your lips quirk slightly upwards in return, a semi-relieved smile painting your face. “I’d appreciate that.”

A small silence settles over all of you as they think about where to begin.

“It was Wooyoung and I that approached her first.” San admits, eyes downcast as he refuses to meet your gaze as shame courses through him one more. “She was interested in us, and we were interested in her.”

“Yes, that’s usually how all relationships start,” you acknowledge. An amused huff escapes you in the next second. “Well, most relationships.”

“It wasn’t long before I joined them,” Mingi comments next. “She just had a way to lure you in, and keep you trapped in her little games without realizing.”

“She was cunning, and knew how to run her mouth to get exactly what she wanted,” Jongho adds, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “She used them to try and get to who she really always wanted.”

“Whom was?” You quirk a brow, looking around at all of them.

“Me.” Yeosang admits, exhaling a breath. “She always tried to get to me through them.”

“Did it work?” You ask, and each male notices how you shift the slightest bit away from him as you do so. A fact which has Yeosang’s heart twinging in his chest unpleasantly as he sees the uncertainty in your eyes.

“Of course not.” He’s quick to reply, watching your shoulders sag slightly in relief. “I never wanted her. I never have, and I never will.”

“Still, she tried to ensnare more of us.” Seonghwa sighs, leaning his one hand against the counter for support.

“The four of them weren’t enough for her anymore,” Jongho tells you. “If she couldn’t have who she truly wanted, she would then take all she could get.”

“Did you ever-“ your inquiry dies in your throat as you watch Jongho shake his head.

“I always saw right through her lies,” he states, rather pointedly. “I tried to warn them, but those four were in too deep at that point.”

You spare a glance between Mingi, San, and Hongjoong. “Did you love her?”

“Not in the way we love you.” San immediately replies, shaking his head.

“That’s not what I’m asking.” You blink, a soft shake to your own head as you place your hands gently on top of one another on the counter before you. “Did you love her?”

A brief moment of hesitation before Mingi is clearing his throat.

“Yes.” Mingi swallows thickly, his one hand resting lightly on the counter.

Instinctively, you reach for him, offering your support in any way you can as you clasp his hand in yours. He looks at you, mild surprise clear in his eyes, but the action not unwelcome to him at all. He shoots you a soft, grateful smile, feeling you squeeze his hand in support.

Each of the four males from earlier watch on with pain filled eyes. Perhaps if they didn’t screw up so monumentally, that could be them right now.

San clears his throat next, drawing your gaze back to him for the moment.

“I did.” His voice is rough, but there’s an undertone of shame hidden behind his words as he averts his gaze.

You nod gently in understanding. “What about Wooyoung?”

“He did.” Seonghwa confirms with tense nod of his own head.

“Speaking of,” you look briefly around the kitchen, “where is he? Shouldn’t he and Yunho be apart of this conversation, too?”

“They’re attempting to track Miyeon right now. Amongst other things.” Yeosang casually leans his arm over the back of your chair, loving how you shift slightly closer to him this time. A fact which has the youngest reeling in jealousy across from him. “But they know what’s going on.”

At the way you furrow your brows at him in confusion, he points to his mind. Your eyes immediately widen in understanding, just knowing that they’re keeping their connection open to their two other brothers for this conversation right now.

Sure enough, you feel two familiar brushes against your void, both a bright yellow and a pure white string humming with vibration. Your headache lessens, and you choose to brush back.

Then, you’re turning to look at Hongjoong.

Out of all of them, Hongjoong seems to look the most nervous. Currently, he leans against the opposite cupboards, arms crossed over his chest as he gazes intently at the counter before him. Then, he’s letting out a sigh, eyes falling shut in the next moment.

“I never loved her.” He admits. “I only used her for sex.”

Subconsciously, your grip tightens around Mingi’s hand as you inhale a sharp breath. Your spine straightens.

“Did you lead her on?” Your gaze is piercing, and even though Hongjoong cannot see you, he can feel it burning through his very soul.

“Of course not,” he shakes his head, eyes opening to meet your own and hoping beyond everything that you can see the sincerity shining there. “She knew it was strictly sex, and that’s all it was ever going to be between us. Until she wanted more. I just wasn’t going to give that to her, but no matter how many times I explained it to her, she kept pushing for more. Which is when I cut her out.”

“I see,” you nod. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“Hongjoong wasn’t the fourth one of us that Jongho meant when he said that, Dearest,” Yeosang explains softly, fingertips brushing against your back lightly in comfort.

“Then, who?” Your brow furrows, looking towards Seonghwa who just shakes his head.

In an instant, that bright yellow string begins humming once more, a familiar tender warmth brushing against your void.

You let him in.

It was me, Petal. Yunho’s voice echoes through your mind.

Yunho-

I am not proud of that portion of my life, but it is unfair to you to keep it hidden any longer. He begins. As you know, I have a particular skillset which is much heightened over my brothers. Demons can and will seek us out if they wish to be trained by us in our field of expertise.

Your breath hitches and you find yourself gripping onto Mingi’s hand for dear life. You trained her mentally, didn’t you?

A moment of silence. I did. And there is no greater regret that I have than doing such.

What happened between the two of you? You ask, blinking a few times as you stare straight ahead at the fridge across from you. Then, softer, you add, you don’t need to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable. I do not wish to pry.

Your consideration means more to me than you know, Petal. Another familiar brush against your mind, as if he’s caressing you with the palm of his hand. Only, you do not realize how you lean slightly into that phantom touch, but the others do. I want you to know. I need you to know, and understand that I am not proud of what came of it.

You loved her. It’s not a question, but a statement of fact.

More than the others did at the time. Yunho sighs, nothing but honesty reflected in his words. There was a time where I also thought that she loved me, too.

A sense of dread washes over your entire body, as if someone has just doused you in cold water. She led you on.

I wish I could say I saw it coming. Yunho replies, and if he were standing before you, you know he’d be averting his gaze right now. I thought things were going well. Every lesson we had, we would get closer to one another. She had this way of getting you to lower your defences without realizing, worming her way in until her venom took its hold.

There is no cure for love. You reply softly.

No, he chuckles. There is not.

What happened between you? There’s a hint of concern he can hear coming through in your voice, feeling it in the way your emotions begin to seep into his own mind, even from this far away. He smiles faintly.

We shared many moments during her training, he begins, gently guiding you through his past memories.

One moment, you appear to be looking through Yunho’s own eyes at Miyeon as she stands across from him, a large smile painted on her face. It seems as if she’s just overcome something difficult in her training, her eyes sparkling with that all too familiar triumphant gleam one has when completing a hard task. You can feel the echoes of his past emotions: the way his heart was racing at seeing her smiling at him like that, revelling in her happiness with her, the pride that filled him when she praised him for his incredible teachings.

Then, the scene shifts, and you are privy to a montage of Yunho sitting in front of his easel in what must be his art room. Hours upon hours are spent with him recreating scenes with Miyeon that he has lived: with paint, charcoal, pastels - anything he can use to capture her beauty and put it on canvas for him to admire, even when she is not with him to share in the moment.

The next memory he shows you, is not as bright as the rest, and immediately, your expression falls. You don’t even realize that tears begin to line your eyes as you see a brilliant inferno blazing brightly before you, stacks upon stacks of canvasses melting beneath the heat. Familiar canvasses with the image of a woman you’ve just seen him spending weeks creating and perfecting.

The first tear that escapes you is synonymous with his in this memory, your heart squeezing right along with his at the significance of the burning artwork. You can hear Miyeon’s voice echoing in his mind, laughing at him after confessing to her about his feelings. Feelings of which that now suffocate his heart as he watches the fire reflect in his pain filled orbs.

You really thought I cared about you? You can hear Miyeon’s voice scoff inside your mind. That after showing me some pathetic pieces of artwork you would actually mean something to me?

You can hear how he pleaded with her, voice straining with his emotions as he begged for her to stay.

I have never wanted you, and I will never want you. She spits, her words full of venom and eyes full of malice. All you’re good for are your powers.

Your breath hitches as your free hand comes up to cover your mouth, more tears falling freely down your face.

The scene shifts once more and you see Yunho completely destroying his art room. Papers are strewn across the floor, glass and ceramic shattered around the area with smudges of charcoal lining the walls. Paint splatters almost everything as you watch the male break down sobbing in the middle of his room, pulling harshly at his hair as he falls to his knees, refusing to open the door to any of his brothers that beg to be let in.

I gave her a part of myself that I had kept hidden for so long, waiting for the right person to come along to share it with, and she destroyed it. Yunho’s voice pulls you back to the present moment, hearing the emotions he so desperately tries to hold back. I gave her everything I could have of myself, and she took it and ran before burning it all to the ground.

You don’t even realize Yeosang has stood and pulled you into his embrace until you feel a separate comforting hand place itself onto your back, beginning to rub gently along your spine. You cling onto Yeosang for dear life as Mingi soothingly caresses you from behind, both males cooing at you in attempts to calm you down while the others can do nothing more than watch you falling apart like this right in front of their very eyes.

I couldn’t even look at a canvass for almost four years after that, and even when I did pick up the hobby again after so long, it was never the same. Yunho admits. Until you, Petal. You saved me in more ways than you’ll ever know.

You swallow, blinking away your tears as you attempt to control your breathing for the moment.

I have never felt this strongly about anyone before in my life, not even Miyeon. He admits, and you feel him caress your mind again, as if he is attempting to wipe away your tears. You are My Muse. My Petal. My Queen.

You can hear the fond growl in his voice as he says this, and you swallow the sudden dryness in your throat.

I will do anything for you, and I will start by protecting that which I love most. He breathes out, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice as it echoes throughout your mind.

That which you love most? Your own voice is soft as you peer at him through your mind’s eye.

He smiles fondly. You, Petal.

You cannot help it, the way your heart races in your chest from his sudden admission. Sure, you figured it out before he said it, but that still does not stop the effect his words have on you. Hearing someone say something that you’ve always longed to hear from a lover is always a shocking situation.

You dry your eyes, pulling away from Yeosang for the moment as Mingi steps back to give you some space as well.

Thank you for sharing this with me. You say gently, reaching out to him for the first time with your own mind and practically feeling the way he shivers from your touch. I appreciate it more than you know.

Of course, Petal. He responds just as softly. Thank you for listening.

Slowly, you close your mind to him once more, but not before reaching out to him for a final time.

The simple gesture of reassurance means more to him than you’ll ever know. A smile begins to tug at the corners of his lips as he continues to scout around the area for Miyeon, feeling his love for you grow at the genuine sorrow you felt for him as he shared those memories with you. He always knew you were perfect, and this just proves it even more.

Sitting back properly in your seat, you wipe at your eyes once more. “Please tell me you stopped seeing her after that.”

“After what she did to Yunho, we all wanted nothing to do with her.” Mingi confirms, a growl on his lips as if he’s recalling the same memories you have just been shown.

“If you hurt one of us, you hurt all of us.” Seonghwa adds, a snarl pulling at his features.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Wooyoung or San as furious as they were when that happened,” Jongho admits with a low puff of air escaping him.

“It made us question everything she did in our relationship,” San says. “We couldn’t trust-“ he practically cringes at the hypocrisy of his own words, “we couldn’t trust her.”

“So, you ended it.” You fill in the rest for them.

“Without a second thought.” Hongjoong speaks after so long remaining silent. “None of us wanted anything to do with her after that.”

“Yet, she still persisted.” Jongho sighs, exasperatedly.

“Which is why she hasn’t let go of us, even until today.” Mingi mirrors his brother’s sigh, rubbing at the side of his neck.

“She couldn’t handle the fact that none of us wanted her anymore, and that we wouldn’t fall prey to her little games she loved to play,” Seonghwa says, moving slightly backwards to lean against the wall behind him.

You nod along to his words until you realize one sticks out to you in particular.

“Wait, you said ‘us’,” you look at the eldest at the far end of the counter. “Do you include yourself in this?”

Seonghwa hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip as his eyes glance briefly around at all of his brothers who now stare at him expectantly. Even they seem to not know this particular detail about the eldest.

“I never liked Miyeon,” he begins. “She always drove me up the walls, but there were times-“ he hesitates, averting his gaze to the side as if ashamed, “times where I couldn’t deny the tension between us.”

“Oh my god,” the phrase is escaping you without another thought as your hand comes up to cover your mouth. “She cheated on you with your brother.”

Hongjoong, San, and Mingi all share a chuckle between them.

“What? What’s so funny?” Your brow furrows, looking around at all of them.

“Starlight, she didn’t cheat on us with our brother,” Mingi grins softly, heart warmed by your concern. “It’s the same reason we weren’t mad when Yunho wanted to court her while we were already in a relationship with her.”

“I don’t understand,” you shake your head slightly, lips tugging downward in confusion.

“She approached us about adding the others to the relationship,” San explains. “Which is why when she pulled that stunt with Yunho, it shocked all of us.”

“She knew I was never going to accept,” Jongho says, “but that didn’t stop her from always trying to get to Yeosang.”

“I was never going to accept either, but she thought making it seem like she wanted all of us would open me up to the idea of wanting her.” Yeosang’s voice is low as he lets out a long exhale through his nose.

You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers beneath the counter as you give him a soft squeeze. Almost instantly, he squeezes back.

“Though, we never knew she bedded Hwa until just now,” Mingi shoots his brother a pointed look.

“To be quite honest, it happened shortly before Yunho confessed to her, so I didn’t feel comfortable talking about it until now.” Seonghwa admits, shoulders sagging in regret. “If I could take it back, I would. I was only a pawn in her game. A triumph of victory. Another notch on her bedpost.”

“She used you.” You state the obvious, blinking once as Seonghwa’s gaze lifts to meet yours. “She only slept with you to say that she could, and that was it.”

“Exactly,” Seonghwa nods, his eyes slipping closed as he leans his head back against the wall. “Which just makes me wonder about Yunho.”

A moment of silence passes over the kitchen, the ticking of the clock all that can be heard throughout the space.

“It’s all my fault.” Yeosang breathes, staring down at the counter intently in front of him.

“Don’t say that,” you’re quick to comfort him, dragging your intwined hands onto your lap to place your other one overtop of his.

“It is, though.” Yeosang looks around at all of his brothers. “The day Yunho was going to confess, she came to me. She boasted about sleeping with Seonghwa that previous night to me, trying to make me jealous. Only, I wasn’t having it. She made - makes - me sick. Which is why when she came onto me, I pushed her away. I told her that I had never wanted her, nor would I ever.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, thinking back to the words she so harshly spit at Yunho the night of his confession.

“She took it out on him.” Yeosang continues, eyes once more downcast. “If I had just given her what she wanted then, none of us would be in this mess now.” He turns to look at you, nothing but pain and fear hidden behind his eyes, shining with a certain type of sorrow you’ve never seen from him before. “You wouldn’t be in danger now.”

“Yeosang,” the hand you had placed on top of your intertwined ones raises to cup the side of his face, noticing how he leans almost immediately into your touch as his eyes flutter shut. “This is not your fault.”

You take a moment to look around at all of them.

“None of this is any of your faults.” You say, and you notice the immediate effect your words have on all of them, a sort of weight lifting from their shoulders. You turn back to Yeosang in front of you. “It was completely within your right to deny her. She does not own you, nor is she entitled to anything you have to offer her. You are your own person who made his own choices, just as she made hers. I am repulsed by how she used you. All of you. I am disgusted by her vile attitude and personality. She does not own you, nor do you owe her anything.”

“It’s been twenty years since we’ve let her go,” San confesses. “Yet she can’t seem to let go of us.”

“I don’t think it’s you she can’t let go of, but the feeling of power you all gave to her.” You state, and you watch as his eyes widen, sharp inhales echoing around the room. “She believes I’ve taken her place now. Probably believes I’ve stolen you right out from under her nose.”

“You could not be more correct.” Hongjoong breathes out, chest swelling at how keen your observation and deduction skills are.

“She wants to hurt you in the ways she believes you hurt her,” you continue. “Which is why I’m assuming she hates my guts.”

“Again, you would be correct,” Mingi nods, swallowing the dryness in his throat.

“To be honest, I knew there was something off with her when we met yesterday,” you mutter, frown tugging at your features as you pull your hand away from Yeosang’s face, much to his discontent. “I should have known she was another demon, especially given the way her eyes flashed.”

“She flashed her eyes to you?” Seonghwa asks, pushing himself almost immediately off of the wall as anger swirls within his chest.

“I’ve been around you guys enough to notice when your eyes start to swirl with that familiar blackness,” you shoot him a look as you see his eyes doing the same now. “Plus, there was the way Reina was acting.”

You inhale sharply, a cold chill running down your spine as panic seizes your entire being. You hand subconsciously squeeze Yeosang’s tighter in worry.

“Reina,” you look around at them frantically. “She’s going to kill my friend.” Then, your eyes widen. “My family.”

You glance between all of them, the fear clear on your features

“If she is as good at mental manipulation as Yunho implied, she’s been controlling my best friend this whole time.” You lean forward, dropping Yeosang’s hand as you rest your elbows on top of the counter in front of you, cradling your head in your grip. “She has access to all of Reina’s memories. Reina knows almost everything about me. She can find my other friends, my family.” Your whole body begins trembling. “I practically admitted to her yesterday that hurting them hurts me, oh my god.”

“Starlight, shhh, it’s okay,” Mingi shushes you, drawing your gaze to him as he steps up beside your seat and pulls you into his chest. “We’ve already got it covered, you don’t need to worry.”

“But-“

“Shhh, no ‘but’s!” Mingi chuckles, finally being the one able to cut you off like this for once.

“What else do you think Yunho and I have been doing while we’ve been gone, Gorgeous?”

You peek out from Mingi’s chest to see both Wooyoung and Yunho standing just inside the threshold to the kitchen.

“Reina?” You tentatively ask, sitting up further in your seat as you turn your full attention to the males standing by the doorway.

“Safe, and free from Miyeon’s control.” Yunho replies with a soft smile and a nod of his head.

You breathe a sigh of relief. “I knew she would never make those types of comments to me herself.”

“She wouldn’t?” San inquires, no skepticism in his voice.

“Of course not,” you shake your head. “She has enough issues with people questioning her pansexuality, so it just wouldn’t make sense. It’s why it caught me so off guard yesterday.”

“Ah,” Hongjoong replies knowingly, “I see.”

You turn back to the two males standing by the door. “My family? And friends?”

“All safe,” Wooyoung smiles back at you, quite widely. “You don’t have to worry. She won’t be able to get to them, or use them against you any more.”

Softly, you stand from your seat, using your one hand to gently push Mingi away from you for the moment as you approach the two males standing across the way. You say nothing, eyes shining with the sincerity of your emotions as you come to stand before them. You can feel every pair of eyes on you as you do so, though none are as focused as the two in front of you are right now.

Then, slowly, you meet each of their gazes before reaching out to cup Wooyoung’s face in your hands. You stare deeply into his eyes, and you can feel the way he tenses beneath your touch.

“Thank you.” You tilt his head to the side slightly, leaning in to place a gentle kiss onto his cheek.

“Of course, Gorgeous,” Wooyoung’s heart thunders in his chest, a pleased growl threatening to escape from happiness at any second. He can feel the tips of his ears burning, the blush spreading down his neck all the while as he allows the fingers of his one hand to ghost along the skin of his cheek, right where your lips had been only moments before.

Turning to Yunho, you meet his gaze, and you can feel a deeper understanding for one another pass through the air between you. Again, you reach over to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing tenderly over his cheeks as you meet his eyes.

“Thank you,” you breathe, staring deeply into his eyes as you bring your lips to his own cheek, letting them linger there for a moment longer before you’re wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him into your chest. “For everything today.”

Yunho smiles, his arms wrapping securely around your waist as he pulls you in impossibly closer to his chest. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your scent deeply as everything you surrounds his entire being. “Anything for you, Petal.”

All too soon, you’re pulling away, and Yunho reluctantly lets you go. Only, he allows himself the pleasure of letting his hands linger on your arms, and he nearly hums in content at the way that you don’t seem to mind.

In the next second, you grab each of their hands in your own and lead them back over to the counter. You then return to your seat, noting how all four males surround you on all sides. Yeosang still sits on the stool to your right, followed by Wooyoung and Yunho who stand directly behind you, while Mingi steps back into you on your left.

Lifting your head, you notice the other four males having converged once more across the counter.

“So, that’s why you didn’t want me going off with Reina on my own for an hour yesterday.”

“We scented Miyeon in the mall earlier,” Hongjoong nods, eyes downcast as that all too familiar shame washes over him. “We didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I understand now,” you comment, pointedly looking between all of them, “but that does not excuse the way you acted.”

“We understand,” both Jongho and San reply simultaneously.

“We are sorry for treating you in such a way,” Seonghwa repeats their apology from earlier, his head downcast as he rests his hands on top of the counter.

You nod, allowing a small silence to settle over the kitchen between all of you as you let their words sink in. That is, until the sound of your stomach growling echos throughout the room.

“Betrayal,” you mutter, glancing upwards in slight annoyance before looking down at your stomach with an irritated look on your face.

“Are you hungry?” It’s Yeosang who asks you the question.

Sheepishly, you nod your head, a small heat rising to your cheeks as you spot the still unopened yogurt on the counter in front of you. Though, you notice Yeosang going to move off of the stool in the next moment, only for your hand to reach out and stop him, resting gently on his knee.

“San?” Said man’s head immediately shoots upwards at hearing his name fall from your lips, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “Could you please hand me that bowl of fruit in the fridge?”

The man is moving before the words even finish coming out of your mouth, the door to the fridge practically being torn off its hinges as he pulls it open. In the blink of an eye, he has the bowl of fresh fruit in his hands, gently placing it on the counter before you after grabbing you a fork from the drawer.

You smile, and the sense of relief that washes over him is instantaneous. However, it’s your next words that truly have him weak in the knees.

“Thank you, Baby.”

807 notes · View notes

pullhisteeth · 11 months

Text

the bone crush | eddie munson

summary you’re five years out of high school and your boyfriend's managed to get famous. some days are harder than others, but he goes to great lengths to make it better. [5.5k]

contains modern!au, fem!reader, rockstar!Eddie/famous!Eddie, established relationship, insecure reader, a fight (kind of), depression, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

something I dreamed up on the train home from work one evening because I was listening to Taylor and getting all emo. lots of love xxx

But I don't like a gold rush / I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush / I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch / everybody wants you / everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

A tingling sensation spreads from your fingers into your hand, creeping slowly up the length of you arm where it’s pressed between your body and the couch.

You’ve been lying here, on your side on the couch in your apartment, for three hours. The sun’s gone down but you’ve made no effort to move to switch on a light, or to eat, or to do anything, really, besides scrolling mindlessly through every app at your disposal. It began with TikTok, which you opened upon slumping down on the couch after work, still in your stuffy trousers and button-up shirt. It moved to Twitter for a while, then over to Instagram, and back round to TikTok. At one point you even entertained Pinterest, keying doomed phrases into the search bar that you knew would drive you further into the hole.

You’re on Twitter right now. Somehow, you landed on a thread dedicated to the lead guitarist of a well-known rock band. Each new tweet is another photograph of him showing another way that he is, as the poster claims, boyfriend material.

They’re not wrong. The photos are candid shots, taken behind the stage after a gig, or at stage-door late into the night. In each one he looks sleepy, soft, a direct contrast to the gritty stage persona he adopts. He’s got a dopey half-smile or he’s sticking his tongue out; in some, he’s wearing a beanie, and in others he’s got a black hoodie on.

You keep going, reading the replies to each tweet individually, scores of young women cooing over him. Your screen is awash with hearts and flames and flowers, exclamation points and capital letters.

One of the photos catches your eye. You linger on it for a few minutes, studying the details, reading the replies. You swipe up from the bottom of your screen to close the app, replacing it quickly with your camera roll. You swipe quick, scrolling upwards until you reach your photos from six or seven months ago.

Eddie had been on a tour across Europe. He’d left in February and come home in May, leaving you behind. But in mid-April he’d flown you out to Spain, where the band had a week break between shows. You’d spent six days trawling the streets of a small coastal town, eating your body weight in paella and swimming for hours in the sea. When you got home you’d posted a photo on your Instagram, just one. You like to keep these moments to yourselves, and usually you don’t share much of anything of your life with the world. When you do, though, the fans go wild.

It’s a photo of Eddie at a restaurant. It looks intimate, like it’s just the two of you, though no one’s to know you were surrounded by the band and crew. It was a clear evening, warm and fresh, and he was sat opposite you in a pretty shirt, top three buttons undone so his ink-splattered chest peeked out. He’d tied his hair back, though by this point it was loose, and the ring on the chain around his neck reflects in the light of the candle between the two of you.

He’s looking past the camera, up and over it to your face. You think about what you must have looked like, tongue between your teeth while you got the right shot, head pulled back, the angle unflattering, but it never changed the way he looked at you. The way he always looks at you.

His big, round eyes catch the light, too, deep and rich in the orange glow. His skin’s lit just the same, and so he looks softer than ever. It’s one of your favourite photos of him, which is all the more reason for you to regret ever sharing it.

You take the dangerous leap with this tweet in particular: checking the quote replies. The ones usually hidden from you, only seen if you go looking, which is precisely what you’re doing now. You know this never ends well, only ever leaves you with a deep pit in your stomach, but you have no will to stop yourself.

You know this because this has become routine for you over the past weeks. It’s like a drug, addictive though it does no benefit to you really. Acknowledging that the mean comments sent your way were increasing was your first mistake; seeking them out is where you fell down the hole.

As the window opens, the first tweet you’re greeted with is surprisingly tame and kind, something sweet about how pretty he looks. True.

But then the second, and the third and another a few tweets down, is where it gets bitter. See, when you’re as famous as Eddie is, with such a dedicated following of young girls, your life is never private, and never can be. These girls know who took what picture and when. They think they know how he felt in each one, or who was making him laugh, or where he’d just been. This one is no exception, and their biting remarks resemble thousands you’ve seen before.

He always looks so bored of her.

Surely he can’t enjoy being kept away from the band???

Am I the only one that thinks he hates her lmao

It doesn’t stop there - it goes on for ages, tweet after tweet after tweet of sarcastic or scathing comments about you. Your appearance (which has never been good enough for anyone, apparently), your personality (boring, stuck-up, controlling), and, most commonly, the fact you are a - quote - clout chaser.

Your arm’s completely numb now. You tell yourself that you couldn’t turn your phone off if you tried, despite the fact your thumb is scrolling just fine. You ingest every word, find new fan accounts to trawl and new insults thrown your way to soak up. There are maybe three photos of you online now, and they circulate through these accounts like paper money, exchanged for nothing but the venom of teenage girls. Are they teenagers? You’re not even sure; some of them definitely are, but you’re convinced most of these people are adults.

A call comes through just as you open another series of replies - this time to a thread titled times Eddie Munson looked good enough to eat. It breaks your concentration, your eyes flitting up to the little picture in the corner of the screen.

Eddie.

You can’t bear to answer the phone. You haven’t spoken to him yet today, and the last time you texted him was yesterday, on your lunch break. Sometimes he’s busier than usual; you’re no stranger to a bit of distance.

You let it ring out, the little green telephone going until it stops, the notification sliding back up the screen. Soon enough you get another, for a text, but you swipe it away before you can read the preview.

You stare at the replies for a while, lingering on the ones that claim they could be better girlfriends than her, before finally hitting the lock button and letting your phone drop onto the carpet. You roll onto your back, groaning when the blood rushes back into your arm and the tingling feeling comes back, and muster the energy to push yourself up and stretch.

As the joints in your back and across your shoulders pop, you toe your shoes off and stare blankly at the wall. There's that feeling that always follows these late-night escapades into the depths of the little yet dedicated following Corroded Coffin have amassed: it's a hollow feeling that somehow still fills you entirely. It rips through you, a deep and unwavering yearning for him.

He's been away since August, and now it's October. Two weeks ago, you'd laid here for a few hours after your friends had packed up the dinner party at midnight, looking up at the ceiling, counting the weeks you'd spent with Eddie this year.

So far, it was fewer than you'd spent apart. Of course, watching the man you love do the thing he loves so much is one of life's biggest blessings, but you'd be a fool if you tried to convince anyone that it didn't hurt. Even if you have friends, and your own life, and a job. That clawing yearning, it grows, expanding by the second every time he leaves for another grand tour of some continent somewhere, with his childhood friends and their insatiable libidos, their lowkey stimulant dependencies and the roadies.

He's home in a month, which is really a month and a half but giving yourself more manageable goalposts is something that helps. You're definitely not delusional.

You decide you’ll spend the rest of the evening offline. It’s 9pm, so you strip your work clothes and pull on something comfier. You put bread in the toaster and when it’s done you spread peanut butter on one slice and jam on the other, and on your way to bed you pick your phone up off the floor.

Your offline evening lasts maybe twenty-five minutes. Something about the comfort of bed and the need for something to entertain you while you eat two slices of toast lulls you back to the welcoming arms of evil fans.

It’s 1am when you get another call from Eddie. You managed half a slice of the jam-covered toast before discarding it in favour of your favourite meal - the insults of strangers - and you’ve been curled up in a ball scrolling TikTok for three and a half hours.

Should you answer it? Probably, yeah. For some reason, though, it feels like you’re angry at him, even though he's done nothing. Something spiky flares inside you when he calls, like you’re jealous, or bitter. It’s entirely your own doing and yet you’re punishing him for it.

He calls again when you don’t pick up, and then texts when you let this one ring out too. You try to swipe the notification away again but click it by accident, opening your conversation, which is awash with grey bubbles where he’s tried to reach you with no reply.

The latest one, above the bouncing bubble with three dots, reads: is everything okay?

No, you think to yourself. You watch the dots, addicted to knowledge that he's out there somewhere, texting you after a gig, when everyone else is getting drunk or high or laid. You know this isn’t healthy, but tonight you feel particularly self-destructive.

give me a call when you wake up. xxx

He thinks you’re asleep, so you’re off the hook for now. You can return to your mind numbing, to breaking down your brain cells one by one, until your eyes force themselves shut and your brain winds down, your phone still open in your hand, playing the same video on loop into the night.

It’s a restless sleep, broken too many times and not deep enough to really count as sleep at all. You eventually drift off properly, some time in the early morning, and when you wake, the light’s blinding. You didn’t close the curtains before you went to bed - did you even try to close them at all? - so as the sun’s moved across the room, it’s landed directly over your face. You’re splayed out on your stomach, drool in your hair.

The sun seems high, too high for an autumn morning. You reach around, patting the mattress and your bedside table in search of your phone. With no luck you sit up slowly, groaning, rubbing your sleep-laden eyes.

Your phone’s on the floor beside your bed. You reach it and find that it’s dead, so you tug the charger cable out from where it’s lodged down the side of the bed and plug it in.

For a few minutes you lie there, befuddled, with no idea of the time or how long you were asleep. Impatient, you get out of bed, aching and creaking because of how you slept, and pad across the room to the bathroom. After you pee and dodge your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you head to the kitchen.

The little fluorescent numbers on your stove read 12:08.

Shit.

Turning on your heels, you run back to the bedroom, throwing yourself over the bed onto your stomach. You grab your phone and try to power it up but it’s still flashing the little battery at you, almost like it’s angry you’d even try to turn it on.

Shit, shit, shit.

How long were you out? It’s definitely nearly 12 hours since Eddie last called, and it’s now 48 hours since you spoke to him on your break.

The wait for your phone to come back to life is agonisingly long, a painful three minutes wherein you pace and sit, break out in a sweat, and even start making your bed in desperation.

Finally it buzzes and you jump. As it comes to life it buzzes again, and again and again, and you freak out, dropping it onto the bed.

4 more missed calls from Eddie, and 3 texts. Normal, to be expected with your lack of response.

But the strange thing is the texts from your friends. Each one of them has text you multiple times, at various points since 6am. Even your mum has called, which is strange for a Saturday.

You’re not sure where to begin, so you start with where’s comfortable: Eddie.

I’m worried, sweets. text me soon x

this is getting weird, what’s going on?

any sign of life?

You tap a response quickly, too quick to keep up with yourself. You’re floating in a post-late-night haze, thick with guilt from the night before and head stinging from staring at your screen for so long.

I'm alive! give me a call when you’re free. love you xx

Almost as soon as you hit send, your phone’s buzzing again, Eddie’s name and picture flashing up on screen.

“Hello,” you say quickly as you answer it, bringing the phone to your ear and holding it with both hands, as though it might slip away if you’re not careful.

“Christ, y/n, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Sorry,” is all you can say. He sounds so breathless and it makes your nose burn.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just... I was worried, ‘s’all. Sorry for all the texts.”

“No, it’s okay, I should have called.”

“It’s fine, really, I thought you might be out, after work or something, y’know, didn’t wanna bug you, but-”

“No, Eddie,” you say, cutting him off. “It’s okay, I should have text you or something, I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry,” he says with a light laugh. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, knowing he’ll see right through it anyway, regardless of the fact he’s miles away and hearing you down a phone line.

“What’s up?”

“It’s fine, really, I don’t wanna keep you.”

“’M not busy, sugar. Y’got me for however long ya need.”

“But-”

“Did you, uh... Did you read the news? This morning?”

“What?”

“I think you should, uh, check it. Now.”

“Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no,” he says, laughing again. “Just...” Your phone buzzes in your hand. You bring it down, setting his call to speakerphone, and see that he’s sent you a link.

You tap it and it opens a webpage. It’s an article on Rolling Stone.

Corroded Coffin postpone US tour.

“What the fuck?”

“Heh...” His nervous laugh sets you on edge, your anxious sweats not letting up.

“What does this-”

“I, uh, I’m about fifteen minutes away.”

“What?!”

“Here, I’ll explain when I’m back, okay? Just... Just please call your mum, will you? And maybe text Robin and Nance back? They’ve been on my back all morning.” And then, before you can protest or ask questions, he says, “I’ll see you soon, sugar. Love you.” The line buzzes. He’s hung up.

You bask in bewilderment for a few seconds, staring at your phone. Your messages app has a little red 57 in the corner - unheard of for you - and you have 5 missed calls - four from Eddie, one from your mum. You call her and tell her you’re okay, and that you’re sorry for the radio silence, and that you’ll tell her everything about the tour when you know more. And then you text your friends back, mostly ignoring the 40 messages in the group chat about the news, telling them the same thing, that you’ll fill them in once you can.

Fifteen minutes passes like an age. You finish making the bed, and then put on some coffee. You tidy away yesterday’s clothes, which you’d left in a pile by the bed, and splash your puffy face with cold water.

Is he angry with you? He didn’t seem angry on the phone. But why is he coming home, and why has the band postponed the tour, because you didn’t pick up the phone for one or two days? Your relationship has been long distance just as much as it hasn’t; going a day without speaking isn’t much to shout about.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are still puffy and there are marks down one side of your face where your bedding’s made indents in the skin. You scrub the sleep from your eyes and the drool from the corner of your mouth and run your fingers through your hair, doing your best to smooth it down.

It’s then that you hear the familiar sound of keys in the door. Just as you round the corner into the hall, sliding across the wood in your socks, you find your boyfriend closing it behind him and setting a bag down on the floor.

You’re moving before you know what you’re doing. Your body caves in from want, from the deep-seated desire to be next to him, and you can’t - won’t - stop yourself from throwing your arms around him. You squeeze him, your arms around his middle, and feel him relax into you as his own come around you. The two of you stand like that for a while, him rocking you gently, and when he pulls you back so he can look at you, he finds that you’re crying.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, pulling you back in again. You slip from his grasp, though, moving so that you can reach up and paw at his face. You plant firm lips on his and let yourself drown in the euphoria of the reunion.

“Eddie,” you pant against his mouth. “Why-”

“Hey,” he laughs. “I’ll explain, okay? Just-” Kiss. “Missed you.” Another kiss.

“I don’t-”

“Are you okay?”

You speak at the same time, but he’s sterner where you’re unsure. He's looking at you with your face in one hand, eyes hard like he’s trying to get you to fess up.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, nodding quickly and ignoring the way the sound bubbles in the thickness of your throat.

“Here,” he says, the firmness ebbing and his face softening. He takes your hand in his and walks you to the living room, past the kitchen where a week's worth of dishes sit beside the sink. If he notices the state of the place, he doesn't say.

He sits on the couch and waits for you to join him.

He watches you when you do, and for a while it’s quiet. There are a hundred questions you have for him, but they dissipate when he holds your face in his hand again, tucking hair behind your ear like he’s in a movie, tracing the fading indents from your sheets down your temple and across your cheek.

You take in the state of him - the wildness of his hair where it’s pulled back into a scrunchie, your scrunchie, and the deep marks of tiredness beneath his eyes. Otherwise, he’s much the same as he was when he left you in August, your rockstar off to wow every state with that skill of his you love so much. He’d taken too long saying goodbye at the airport, nearly missed his flight to Washington, and when he’d finally let you go you’d stayed, sitting in a deserted café, clinging onto the last glimpse you got of him before he was weaved through security by their manager, Jason.

“What’s goin’ on, hm?” he asks, voice soft as ever and sweeter too. It brings you out of your head and you look up at his ridiculous, gorgeous face, his brown eyes burned with sorrow, the scrunch between his eyebrows that appears when he’s concerned.

“Missed you,” you tell him, whispering in case speaking louder will shatter what can surely only be a bitter daydream.

“Why’d you go all cold on me then?” He drops his hand from your face and holds your leg where it’s bent up underneath you.

“Been a bad couple days.”

“How come?”

“Just missed you,” you repeat. It’s all you can think about now he’s here and he’s got his hands on you - how you’ve missed him, his smile, his eyes, his hands, the way he smells, the space on his shoulder where your face fits when you hug him.

“Missed you too,” he tells you. “But I think you’re hidin’ somethin’ from me.”

You groan and twist in your seat, letting your legs drop off the couch, his hand falling to his own lap, and lean your head back. With your eyes shut, you breathe deep.

“Sorry I didn’t text, or call, I just... I’ve been really low.” You hear the tremor in your voice and know he can hear it too. He hopes you don’t hear his heart and the way it breaks at the sound.

“I know you don’t really go online, or whatever-”

“I know what’s been happening,” he says, cutting you off. You open your eyes and turn your head so your cheek’s pressed to the back of the couch and you can look at him. His eyes are harder now, trained somewhere away from your face, though his hand, now resting too on the back of the couch, toys silently with the ends of your hair.

“You do?”

“Yeah, Jason’s been keeping us, uh, updated, or whatever. Showing us some of it.”

His eyes meet yours and he looks back at you with a tenderness that pulls you limb from limb.

You crumble then, all the emotion of the past few weeks easing out of you like crackling smoke. You lean, without thinking, into his side and cry, wet and heavy sobs, gasping for air. Through cotton-wool ears you can hear him soothing you, feel his hands smoothing up and down your back. You listen as he coos pretty things in your hair and kisses the crown of your head until your breath’s a bit more level.

“Sorry,” you hiccup.

“Stop apologising,” he says, with that same feather-light laugh he had when he told you the same thing on the phone. And then he breathes out, slow, and says, “I knew somethin’ was up last week, when you called me from the store.”

“Oh, yeah.”

You think back to last Tuesday, when you’d been picking up groceries and only just made it back to your car before the tears had spilled over and left you in a miserable puddle in the driver’s seat. You were tired, of what you couldn’t tell: going home to an empty apartment, shopping for one person, the fact you’d had to buy a different shampoo because you’d used Eddie’s up and they didn’t have the one he usually uses at the store.

You’d called him after you’d cried, just to hear his voice, but it had been late in the afternoon wherever he was and he was getting ready to play another show so all he’d been able to say was I love you, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?

It’d left you feeling bereft, worse than ever.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choke out, mind on that evening and the hundreds of others just like it.

“What do you mean?” he asks, taking your hands in his own, his thumb smoothing up and down the sides of your wrists.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you say flatly. “You being away so much, I... It’s so hard, Eds. I know I have friends, and-” Hiccup. “-and they’re great, they’ve been great, Nance and Rob especially, they... We have dinner every week and it’s not like I spend every night here on my own, waiting for you, or whatever, I just... Everything online is so hard to look at but it's also so hard to not look at, it’s so hard to see all these people being so invasive and weird, wanting you all the time, following you around, and sometimes it’s mean and then I think, you know, maybe they’re right sometimes. I miss you, and it hurts and I don’t know what to do because you’re so happy, and I love you and I love your band and you’re so talented but I just... I sit back here, waiting for you. It’s like I’m a... An anchor, or something, y’know? I feel like they’re right, I’m holding you back, I just-”

“Stop it,” he says. You take a well-needed breath and look at him, hearing the way his stern words come out filled with remorse, and find that his eyes are red round the edges and his mouth’s doing that thing it does before he cries.

“Oh, Eddie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

He squeezes your hands and says, “No, it’s okay, I just- I hate when you talk like that.”

He takes a breath and, letting go of your hands, pinches the bridge of his nose. After a quiet moment he sits upright and turns to you.

“I never, ever feel held back by you. Do you hear me?”

“I know, I just-”

“I mean it. Never.”

“Okay,” you sigh.

You see him ease a little, leaning back slightly.

“I know you didn’t sign up for this, and the fact you’re still here is honestly... Maybe one of the craziest things ever. I know that it’s been bad recently, I’ve seen some of the stuff online and god knows I have to deal with it in person every time I leave a fucking building, but you can't listen to them, baby. I don’t want any of this if it’s hurting you.”

“Eddie-”

“I’m serious. I’d drop it all, leave it all behind, change my name and flee the country or something, if it meant I’d get to be with you.”

Your nose burns again, and there’s a simmering ache in your temples. You breathe and try to keep the tears at bay but it’s futile; they come without permission and quickly, thick drops down your cheeks.

“When you called last week, I... It broke my heart, sugar, I couldn’t bear it.”

“I had to get different shampoo,” you tell him bluntly, like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world to cry over the little red out of stock sticker underneath where the bergamot shampoo would usually be.

He just looks back at you sadly. You’re not sure where to go from here, because whatever outcome you know your heart will break. You could leave him, abandon all of this and start afresh somewhere new, taking your time to mourn the loss but get over it eventually. You could stay, doing this every year for the foreseeable future, playing your role as the doting girlfriend who waits patiently for her world-famous boyfriend to come home. Or Eddie quits, and you live with the guilt of what he’d lose forever.

“What’s goin’ on in there?” he asks you, tapping your forehead softly with his index finger. “Hm?”

“What do we do?” you ask him, as though he's somehow wiser than you when it comes to this.

He toys with your hair again, tucking it behind your ear. “I don’t know,” he admits, “but I’m here for now.”

“But you’ll go again,” you remind him.

“Yeah,” he responds reluctantly. “But there’re only two weeks left of tour.”

“But there’ll be another, and then another.”

“Not like this, there won’t.”

“Eddie, you can’t quit. That’s not fair, I can’t expect you to do that, I don’t want you to do that.”

“Who said anything about quitting?”

He’s suddenly got a smile on his face. It’s only small, one side of his mouth pulled up in some kind of mischievous signal.

“You can’t keep making music and not touring, that’s not-”

“I’m not quitting music, baby. Tours just won’t be this long.”

“But you’re getting more famous, you can’t-”

“Let me explain,” he drones playfully, not really fed up with you but playing into it to get you to listen.

“You’re right, you can’t expect me to quit and stay here with you, just like I can’t expect you to drop everything and come with me. I thought about it, y’know, the logistics of you coming but it’s not easy, I mean, we live on a bus for most of the tour and when we are in hotels we’re doin’ press all day, and just ‘cause we could afford it now doesn’t mean I want you to quit your job, or leave your life behind for me or anythin’. But I also... I hate this just as much as you do. I don’t know how it looks to you ‘cause my free time isn’t exactly a lot but I spend literally every minute I have on the phone to you, so much that Gareth’s started really takin’ the piss, givin’ me shit for it...”

He’s laughing and as you let yourself laugh too, feel the heavy weight of distance lifting off you. It’s been so long that you’d almost forgotten how blissful it feels to be sat with him, laughing like this in your little apartment. Almost.

“I’ve got some ideas about how we can make this work,” he continues, “but right now I’m just happy you’re okay.”

“How long are you home for?” you ask him in a low voice, hesitantly, lest you get your hopes up.

“However long you want,” he says softly, tracing the side of your face. “But probably a couple of months.”

“Months?!” you gasp, incapable of controlling your volume. He flinches and laughs again.

“Yeah. Won’t be able to sort new shows for a while anyway.”

The tears return, only this time they’re born of a deep relief. You feel it lift you and you fall into him, gripping on for dear life. Your arms wrap around his middle and your nose rests at his neck, and you squeeze him as hard as you can while he carries on laughing, his own hands matching yours. When his t-shirt is sodden with tears and your arms have eased up he brings you up to meet his eye. As you watch them flit between your own and your lips you get that feeling, the fluttering of a crush deep within. Suddenly you’re both seventeen again, when your biggest worry was whether the boy with long hair in your English class liked you back, rather than all the burdens of early adulthood and fame. And then he kisses you, a true homecoming kiss, warm and firm and sure, and you melt into him, sighing happy noises and kissing him back.

Four hours later, you’re still on the couch. He helped you clean, slowly undoing the wreckage of depression, and you both showered, washed his hair with the shampoo that will become his new smell. You’ve torn through an order of Chinese takeout and you’re halfway through a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, though currently it sits abandoned on the coffee table, the two spoons leaving melted ice cream across the varnished wood.

The conversation - about where you go from here, how you navigate this new life together - is saved for another day.

Right now you’re in his lap, right where you like to be, kissing him senseless and letting him do the same to you.

You dance your mouth across his cheek, down his jaw and onto his throat, over the scattering of pretty, blooming bruises that match your own (just marking what’s mine, he’d told you). When you reach his collarbone, he says, “Maybe we should get a cat.”

You sit upright and look at him quizzically. “A cat?”

“Yeah,” he says, a lazy smile growing. “It’d keep you company when I’m not here, and Nance would love lookin’ after it when we're away."

You dwell on the idea, your eyes dancing across his face which glows a pretty shade of pink in the low living room light.

“Okay,” you agree, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get a cat.”

One month later, you pick up Ozzy from the pound. He’s a baby, really, small but filled with restless energy. He’s black with white socks and though you dote on him endlessly, it’s Eddie he truly falls for.

At least you have something in common.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #Eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #st 4 #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things eddie

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youaintnothinbuta · 1 year

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austin - “you need me.”

Summary: Your time of the month really sends your hormones crazy, Austin is sick of you rejecting period sex because you ‘feel dirty’.

Pairing: austin x fem!reader

Word count: 1,100

Warnings: SMUT, period sex, unprotected sex, blood, period oral (f receiving).

If period sex makes you uncomfortable, do not read this!!

MASTERLIST

Being on your period was torture, and not just because of the cramps and the pain and the headaches and the nausea. While those things definitely sucked, it was the crazy fluctuation of hormones that sent your sex drive skyrocketing. You and Austin had a very healthy sex life to say the least, and your insistence on not having sex for the week you had your period drove him wild just as much as it did you. He’d made it abundantly clear he had no problem with the thought of period sex, he took every opportunity to remind you about how orgasms can help period cramps, and had even used the phrase ‘not a real solider without a bit of blood on your sword’ more than once. You wanted to, too, of course, there was just that mental barrier of feeling dirty that was stopping you. Usually, you two just settled for grinding on each other til you came and then finishing him off in your mouth.

“I’ve done the math, Y/N. Your crazy hormones plus your sexual frustration times by my sexual frustration leaves us pretty amazing sex. Please.” Austin groaned as the pair of you arrived home from dinner, walking through the front door.

“Austin, I want to, you know I just can’t bring myself to.” You reminded him, locking the door behind you.

“It’s not any easier for me than it is for you, you know. You’re like an animal in heat. Clawing at me and rubbing on me all day. And then you leave me desperate.” He explained you as he hung his coat up.

“Austin.” You sighed his name, turning to head upstairs.

Begging you wasn’t working, he needed to change his tactic. Seduction. He grabbed your wrist, stopping you from walking away. A little whine escaped your lips. You were desperate to be manhandled by him. That whine didn’t go unnoticed by Austin, who was stood in front of you, one side of his lips curling into a smirk.

“Look at you, you’re about to combust,” he dropped your wrist, instead using his hand to squeeze your waist, “you need me.”

He had you wrapped around his finger with those three words. His eyes fixed on yours intently, making the pit in your tummy feel like it was on fire. You opened your mouth to speak but no words could be said before Austin pressed his lips to yours, that same hand that was around your waist now snaking around the inside of your thigh, giving you a squeeze and trailing his fingers up to your crotch. Your eyes shut, a quiet moan leaving your lips. You thought for a moment.

“Austin, fuck me. Please.”

It was his to turn to almost combust, a tingly feeling shooting through his nerves at the sound of your voice, asking him to fuck you. He picked you up, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist, he wasted not one second getting you to your bedroom, laying you down and then himself on top of you. You tilted your hips upwards as he placed kisses erratically all over any skin that wasn’t covered by your clothes, although aiming his attention at your chest.

“God, Austin, now.”

Usually, being so desperate and demanding would’ve got you punished but not this time, he was far too desperate himself to drag it out any longer. He stood up off you, stripping himself of his clothes, giving you a chance to do the same whilst on the bed.

A hand of his pulled your knee to one side, spreading your legs in front of him. He wrapped the string of your tampon around his finger.

“Can I?” You nodded, he slowly pulled the cotton out of your pussy, going into the ensuite of your bedroom to put it in the bin.

“My sweet girl.” He muttered, his naked body crawling back over you before trailing kisses down the length of your body, his fingertips making the hairs on your body stand up from the coolness of the water he’d washed his hands with. He dragged his nose against the mound of flesh above your clit, his breath lightly brushing over it.

“No teasing, please, not today.” You asked, your voice calling his eyes up to meet yours. He nodded ever so slightly, accepting your request. You thought that was the teasing, being down between your thighs. I mean, obviously, he wasn’t going to eat your pussy on your period, obviously.

Your eyes widened at the feeling of his tongue brush against your clit. And then again.

“When I said fuck me I didn’t mean—“ you tried to speak but your sentence was cut short as his lips tugged on your most sensitive area.

“Oh fuck, okay.”

Austin smiled against you, his lips kissing and sucking your clit. He pressed his index and middle finger inside you, shivering at the squelching sound of his fingers playing in your wetness and blood, making him groan against you. The vibrations of his groan went shooting through your core, you were fighting the urge to clamp his head at your heat with your thighs. His fingers curled inside of you, each motion forcing a chorus of wet noises from your body, each one sending him closer and closer to the edge.

“Need you in me.” You panted, desperately. He gave you clit one last long suck, his lips popping loudly as he disconnected them from your dripping heat. The palm of his right hand had some blood dribbled down it, his index and middle finger bright red. He wiped his fingers off on his bare chest before leaning his hands either side of your head, the sight of your blood smeared across his skin was turning you alarmingly more than it probably should have. Maybe it was just due to the fact that humans are, at the end of the day, still instinctive animals, but he felt no different. Sex with Austin was always amazing, but this, this was dirty, this was raw. His cock was throbbing, aching to come in you. Slowly, he pressed his hips into yours, both of your jaws hung open as he did so. The hormones, the extra lubricant, the sexual frustration, whatever it was- it was ecstasy. He quickly found the rhythm you liked best, his teeth biting his bottom lip as he watched your thighs tremble as his cock slammed in and out of you.

“Gonna come already, aren’t you? I can feel it, honey, come f’me.” He mumbled, his lips smeared against yours. He didn’t need to ask you twice, your hips bucking up against his. He kept his pace, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

“Austin!” You cried his name, clinging to him as the knot in your tummy unraveled. He too, came undone, the most gutteral, hoarse growl you’d ever heard come from him leaving his mouth as he spilled out inside of you, his arms shaking as he held himself hovering over you.

“My lord.” He laughed out in slight disbelief of the pleasure he’d just experienced, pulling out of you. He kissed your forehead, “how was that for you?”

Your head was spinning, the stars in your vision were starting to fade, however. “We’re gonna do that again.”

Austin smiled against your shoulder, “we are, but I think we should step into the shower f’now.”

#smut #austin x reader #austinbutler #austin butler #austin!elvis x y/n #austin butler smut #Austin

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transdruid · 4 months

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How to Get Better at Tarot (and other divination)

If you often find yourself stumped with a reading, or you're just getting started and are totally lost, this post is for you! I'm using tarot as a base, but this guide will help you learn how to improve your reading skills of any divination. I'm basing the points in what I've struggled with in the past, as well as stumbling blocks I often see other people get stuck on.

Step One: Practice. You hate this advice, I know, but it is the only way to actually get better. You have to fuck up. You have to try again, that's just how the world works. Sorry. Getting good at anything, but especially something as amorphous as divination, takes years. I have been practicing tarot for nearly five years, for less than half that time have I felt the click of confidence. Tarot is an investment!

Okay. You get it. You have to practice, but how do you practice? What can you do to make your practice more beneficial? How do you get the most learning you can out of every reading? Let's dig in!

Use Smaller Spreads

Simplification is your friend. If you draw too many cards, it muddies the water. Think of your reading as a bowl of water, and each card you draw as a drop of color. If you add one drop of red, and one drop of blue, the answer comes through as a clear purple. But if you start adding more and more drops of every color you can think of, the colors get all mushy and gross. If you frequently find yourself drawing more than four or five cards for a spread, chill! Your don't need that many, I pinky promise. As you gain confidence, you can add more cards. The goal here is to get clear answers, and pulling twelve cards is not going to get you there. I recommend sticking to one, two, or three card readings. Remember that tarot decks typically have 78 cards; when you get up to ten or more cards, you're pulling a significant portion of the entire deck. No wonder it doesn't make sense!

Ask Better Questions

There are good questions to ask your cards, and less good ones. For a start, tarot is not good at yes/no questions. If you are expecting a yes/no answer, turn to something like a pendulum or a coin toss.

Okay so that one is a bit obvious. Let's dig a bit deeper. When you pull out your cards, take the time to sit and think about why. What do you want out of this reading? Think about what cards are in the deck; do any of them actually work to answer the question you have? For example, if you're doing a deity confirmation, simply asking "who are you?" and drawing a card isn't going to work very well. There isn't a card in there with "Dionysus" written across it, and there are infinite possible answers. Instead, think about what could point you in the direction you need. "What's your vibe?" works a bit better. Then we could get a card such as The Devil, to stand for the indulgence and physical delights of wine. If this were the first question (who are you?), your first instinct would be 'ohmygoditsthedevilhimself! This spirit must be evil!' Instead, you know that the vibe is about something maybe a bit mischievous (taboo, even), or someone that was cast as the devil somewhere in history. Combine that with something like the Three of Cups and it's practically a neon sign saying "Hey! My vibe is about having a good time! Let's drink and party!" which leads right to my homie Dionysus.

Question phrasing is important. When you go into google and type in "Tarot Spreads" you get a lot of junk that tries WAY too hard to sound super smart and spiritual. "What part of myself do I hide from observation out of fear and/or shame?" Can be boiled down to "What am I ashamed of?" When I started tarot, I got most of my spreads by googling "tarot spread for ---". This works, but I often found myself pulling the cards, looking at the questions, and realizing I didn't actually know what the question was asking. If you find yourself in the position, try boiling down the question to it's essential parts.

Align Your Expectations with Reality

This ties into the above step, but I feel it deserves its own section. Tarot and divination are a tool we use to gain understanding of ourselves and those around us. Tarot is good for this! Play to this strength. Tarot can be used for practically any question, but there are some things that work better than others. Start with the things tarot is best at, then branch out to the more challenging questions! Think about what the cards themselves are able to say.

You should also be careful to consider if you should even be asking this question with divination. I have strict rules in place for what types of readings I accept. I do not use my cards to read the future. The future is ever changing, with infinite possibilities. I prefer to just let it happen. I do not do readings about school or tests (you're at school to learn! Not be told!). I do not do readings about medical problems. Those should be asked of a doctor. Morally, mixing the spiritual with physical health is not acceptable. When you turn to divination, ask yourself if divination is really the best way to get what you need.

Do Not Doubt Your Card Draws

Okay. So you've now thought about what you want from the reading, you've picked your questions, and now, finally, it's time to pull some damn cards. You shuffle, you draw, you flip, and --- wait a second, that can't be right?! Why did I get that card for this question?! I must have shuffled wrong, or picked the wrong cards!

Nope! You didn't! (Trust!)

Look at the cards. Observe them. Open your guidebook (I swear to god you need to actually use your fucking guidebook do not try to go without it oh my god--) and read the entire entry for every card. Sit with them some more. What jumped out at you in the descriptions? Trust your instincts! Meditate on them. If you don't get it, don't fall into the trap of drawing additional clarification cards. Remember the first tip? More cards equal a muddier reading.

Fine, you say, but what if the cards are really weird? What if they make less than no sense actually for real? Write that shit down in your journal, and wait until it makes sense. I'm serious about this. Sometimes readings only make sense months down the line, and sometimes it's above your current skill level. Interpret it to the best of your ability, and check back in six months later. If you're super impatient, try reaching out to someone who's ability you trust and ask their opinion! Just don't be offended if they say no. Interpretation is a lot of work!

If you (like I used to) continuously struggle with doubt about how/where/when to draw, how much to shuffle, and if you picked the right cards and maybe you should just scrap it and start over... Stop yourself. Come up with a routine and rules for the draw! Tell your deck "okay, one more shuffle, then I'm pulling!" and do that. You gave your deck the notice it needs to get its shit together, trust it!

Do Not Take the Cards Literally

You've heard this one. Everyone says it. But what does it mean? How do you not take the cards literally?

Let's start with the example everyone knows.

XIII. Death

Whoa! You say, scary! Well, not really. Death indicates the ending of something, but not necessarily a life. Perhaps you're graduating school, and saying goodbye to that part of your life. Perhaps you're ready to move on from an outdated way of thinking. It depends on the context! Death is about cycles, about closing one door so you can open the next. This is really where the practice is going to set in.

Let's take a look at another one that tends to really ruffle peoples' feathers.

"Oh shit! It's XV. The Devil!"

Is Satan himself in the room with you right now?! Probably not. Does this mean something evil or bad is going to happen?! Is this a sign that everything is cursed?! Also no. I've seen plenty of people balk and backpedal as soon as The Devil turns up in a reading, but really they're balking at nothing. The Devil does not mean some evil spirit is trying to trick you. The Devil asks you to interrogate the taboos in your life and in the society around you. The Devil says "hey, wanna buy some Deathsticks?" Sometimes the answer is hell no, and sometimes it's "Fuck yeah Obi-wan wants to party!!!" Remember back a few sections ago, and I used The Devil as an indication of Dionysus? That's because Dionysus is the god of wine, of the party, the physical indulgences that society tells you are wrong.

Learning to Not Take The Cards Literally is hard, and takes practice. But that's why we gotta practice!

Be Not Afraid (of your guidebook)

The guidebook loves you. The guidebook wants to help you. The guidebook is there to guide you! Use it!! Too many readers place too much emphasis on doing readings without the guide, on being independent, and not using the "cheat sheet". Look into my eyes. That's bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. Memorization is a completely different skill from interpretation. Memorizing will leave out the details, the little things you forgot (and unless you have a photographic memory, yes, you will forget things). Sometimes all I need for a reading to click is one word in the guide, something I wouldn't have thought of without reading the book. Every deck is different. That's why they give you the guide. Someone put so much effort into the design of the cards, into the meanings behind the art. When you skip the guidebook, you're ignoring all the hard work that went into it. Don't make that writers work go to waste. Don't make them sad :(

How To Make Your Interpretation Better

Okay. You're trying not to think literally, you've read the guidebook, now what? "Good" tarot readings are incredibly subjective, and everyone will have a slightly different metric. But this is my post so we're using my metric!

Good tarot readings give you more questions. Good tarot readings ask you to interrogate yourself, and look at the real and true answers. Good tarot readings make you learn about yourself and the world around you. Good tarot takes into account the symbolism of the cards and melds it with the words of the guide. So let's take a look at some symbolism.

The Ten of Sticks and the Seven of Sticks. Starting with the ten, what do we see? Some dude with some sticks. But wait -- he's holding all ten sticks by himself. His back is bent, his arms are full, and we can't see his face. The ten of sticks is about carrying burdens, about responsibility.

Now the seven. Some rando just holding a stick, right? Take a second glance. He holds the stick like a staff, a weapon, in a defensive position. He stands on a hill, and we see him fending off all the other sticks. The seven of sticks is about taking a stand for what you believe in, having the conviction to stand up on a hill and fight for it!

If you draw the ten of sticks, ask yourself if you're overburdened anywhere. Think about the responsibilities in your life, if they're enough, if they're too much. If you draw the seven, think about the things you believe in enough to climb that hill. Why do you believe those things so strongly? What drives you to the defensiveness behind your position?

Symbolism is another one of those skills that will simply come with practice and time! If you don't get it, don't beat yourself up. I highly recommend getting your hands on an app or book that breaks down both the meaning and symbolism of the cards for you to reference (Galaxy Tarot is my favorite).

Something else you can do to increase your understanding is to study readings other people do. I learned so much from watching my partner interpret readings (@knightofhylia <333). Look at the cards and the interpretation, can you follow along, or do you get lost? If you're lost, pinpoint what threw you off track and focus in. Pull the cards out of your own deck, lay them out, read the guide. Did you come to the same conclusions, or something completely different? Why? How? Which interpretation do you like more? Why do you like that one?

Divination will always be a highly personal experience. To know your cards is to know yourself. Tarot was not designed to be easy, it's an esoteric skill. By definition, the esoteric is difficult to understand and grasp to beginners and outsiders. The esoteric is supposed to leave you pondering, wondering, and asking more questions. With perseverance, you too can learn to understand the mysterious!

#Tarot #divination #tarot cards #cartomancy #card divination #beginner tarot #how to read tarot #tarot guidance

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