#i want you to understand that these pictures don't even scratch the surface of my feelings

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

ODE TO A CONVERSATION (STUCK IN YOUR THROAT) - c.sc

Everything with Seungcheol has always been easy. Easier than with anyone else, anyway.  (and it hits me — i don’t want anybody else touching you like i do, like i do, like me. is it okay? that i don’t want anybody else touching you like i do.)

pairing; choi seungcheol x fem!reader.  genre; smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) with a little bit of plot. friends-ish to lovers to (healthy) exes to fwb to -- warnings; writing early parts of this felt low-key pretentious but it was kinda on purpose because i was trying something stylistic and outside my normal?? so??? but on a real: swearing. alcohol consumption (they aren’t drunk at the time of having sex). reader is written to be wearing makeup. it's kinda just filth. proof read but all the words just melted together eventually (if i missed a typo, no i didn't <3) smut warnings under the cut! w/c; 6k. a/n; del water gap’s ode to a conversation stuck in your throat was my most listened to song last year. i now can’t listen to it without thinking about s.coups (i also just point blank can't stop thinking about s.coups) -- enjoy x

smut warnings: big! dick! seungcheol!, making out, fingering, oral (f rec), unprotected p-in-v sex (make good choices), lil bit of edging if u squint, overstimulation if u tilt ur head like 82º to the left, manhandling, soft-ish dom!cheol, lotta praise, use of pet names (babe, baby good girl, my girl, sweetheart), kinda possessive!cheol, jealous!cheol, biting and marking (hickeys, digging nails in), light light light light light crying/dacryphilia (not really, like there are Some tears in eyes but just to be safe ig)

Everything with Seungcheol has always been easy. 

Easier than with anyone else, anyway. 

You’d known him in passing for a long time before anything happened. A friend of a friend — someone you always smiled at and chatted with at social events, because he was easy to smile at, and so very easy to chat to. You can’t even remember which birthday or New Year’s party or Halloween bash or Saturday night jamboree was the first: they’ve since all just dissolved into one pleasantly foggy memory, and every time you saw him thereafter he made you feel so comfortable, so at home that it felt like the hundredth.

And it continued that way for a few years. Pleasantries exchanged in friends' kitchens, conversations across beer-garden tables. Catching up on each other's lives in a hallway outside the bathroom for handfuls of minutes at a time before one of you inevitably got tugged away by the friend you were waiting for. You were comfortable with him, around him: he just had that kind of energy. So on a big group night out one evening, when you found yourself feeling a little uncomfortable being flirted with by someone you had never met, you instinctively flashed Seungcheol a look from across the bar. He came straight over and immediately to your rescue; with him slipping all too naturally into the fake role of your unimpressed significant other, you realised that it was easy to be whisked away under his arm, easy to let him buy you your next drink, easy to let him kiss you breathless just to really drive the pretend point home. 

Staring up at him after, feeling his drink-chilled hands cupping your cheeks, watching his gaze flicker between your lips and your eyes, you realised that igniting a spark had never felt so…

And it was easy to kiss him again later that night under the influence of a little too much wine and blanketed by a couple of lowered inhibitions. It was easy to giggle into the crook of his neck as he leaned against a stone wall, trailing his fingers up and down your arms, rambling about how he wanted to kiss you again and again and again and forever, maybe, because he thought your smile was beautiful and your lips were so soft and you tasted like cherries, and he liked cherries, and if you could kiss him every day he’d never have a reason to be unhappy ever again. It was so fucking easy to fumble in your purse for your phone, to let him put in his number, and when he asked you if he could take you out for dinner, when he messily typed a text message out begging the same question and sent it to you (‘so we both remember, tomorrow’), it was so, so easy to say yes. 

Then, the first date? It was beyond easy. You talked and talked and laughed and laughed, each of you having a few cocktails with your food, never running short of conversation, never not finding little ways to touch each other both under and over the table. Arranging the second, and then the third, and inviting him up for a coffee after date number five was easy, and falling into bed with him was easy. Holding him close, your sweat-slicked bodies moving as one entity in the dark: it was easy, and the pillow-talk after about what this growing thing between you was, came so damn…

So you introduced him to your parents, and your other friends, and in turn he did the same with you. Two and a half years breezed by, then, and even the hard parts… Even the arguing and time spent away from one-another, whether he was sleeping out on your couch following an emotionally charged spat or trips taken as part of his job demanded he spend weeks at a time without you. The hard parts? By comparison to everyone before him, they were easy. Anniversaries and birthdays and Valentine’s days: he spoiled you, and you doted on him, and being together was just so–…

Even the day you decided to end your romantic pursuit, while impassioned, wasn’t hard. In part, maybe it was because it was a long time coming: you still loved each other deeply but your lives were so chaotic and different, and it wasn’t fair to keep waiting around for each other when it just clearly wasn’t your time. And in part, because he was so calm in how he held your hand tightly in his (even when he dried your tears), how he kissed your forehead, in how he told you that you deserved more than the life he could give you. And at the end of it all, when he promised to always be there for you, naturally you promised the same back. 

Keeping that promise? Well. It was easy. 

So what if it took a few weeks for things to feel sort of normal? If you had to remember how to greet him without offering your lips for a kiss or your arms for a hug? If you had to get used to sleeping alone, and waking up alone, all over again? The thing that mattered was that he was still in your life, and you were still in his: your relationship wasn’t broken, it was just different, and once the little transition period was over, once you were both used to your new normal… Being ‘just friends’ was kind of easy. 

(Kind of, being the operative phrase.)

Six months post split, you mentioned to him in passing that you were going on a date the following day. As soon as you realised what you’d said, you regretted bringing it up, but without missing a beat Seungcheol lowered his drink and raised an eyebrow at you, excitedly asking you to tell him everything. The person’s name, what they were like, how you met them, where you were going. He didn’t feel like your ex-boyfriend, then and there: he felt like a best friend. So you told him every detail, and he listened intently, following up by requesting you text him when you got to the date and again when you got home so he knew you were safe. Of course, you said that you would. First, because it was sensible. Second, his requests were easy enough.  

And the date went okay, all things considered: the guy was nice, if a little bit awkward, and you had a good time bowling with him and playing some games in the old arcade, but there just wasn’t a spark. Everything felt difficult. Forced. So when he was the one to say to you after that he’d had a nice evening but felt that maybe you should just be friends, you couldn’t help but feel relieved. Letting out a breath and giving a genuine smile, you agreed, thanking him for his refreshing candour, before bidding him good night and making your way back to your car. 

You held your phone between your fingertips for a while as the engine ran and the heating started to kick in, slowly warming you from the outside, in. As you thawed, you bit the inside of your cheek absentmindedly, a potentially questionable decision planting itself in your mind. Your body didn’t mind how good of an idea your brain thought it was, though. Your fingers moved entirely of their own accord; finding and pressing Seungcheol’s contact name was so starkly different to everything else had been, all damn night. It was easy. His sleep-roughened voice drifting down the phone sounded so easy. Asking if he minded you swinging by his place for a coffee and a debrief felt easy.

Two hours later, writhing on his mattress, two orgasms deep with his head still buried between your thighs and one of his hands groping at your tit as if his life depended on it?

Fucking. Easy.

So then, started the pattern. Waking up the next morning absolutely swimming in one of his oversized t-shirts should’ve felt like guilt and a betrayal of all your self-growth, of your moving on, of your friendship. It should’ve felt uncomfortable and gross and maybe a little panic-inducing, but it never did. It was warm and cosy, it was familiar and comforting, and when he greeted you ‘good morning’ with a pillow to the face, you knew that nothing was ruined; rather, this was just another new difference to your ever-changing relationship with him. Waking up this way… Well, it felt—

Look, you’re only human. You both have needs. After spending two and a half years learning each other's bodies, being together in that way again came so, so… 

After every date gone wrong, after every stressful week at work, in the midst of every family drama and friendship breakdown, you found yourself seeking respite in his apartment, between his bedsheets. In his tongue lapping at your pussy; in the head of his cock bruising the back of your throat until he spilled his release into your mouth; in the slow, deep, precise thrusts of his hips as he buried himself inside you over and over and over and over, taking your mind off the stress and concentrating only on making you feel good, on helping you forget everyone and everything else–… 

And now?

Well, now, you’re on your way back from yet another miserable date.

About three months ago, you stopped even considering giving the taxi drivers directions to your own place. Now, when you slide into the backseat, you automatically reel off the address you always end up at after a night like this. When your dates only talk about themselves, or say something so wildly out of pocket that it makes your toes curl (and not in a good way), or exclusively go on and on and on about their ‘crazy’ ex partner, you’ve grown all too used to showing up pouting at your friend’s front door. 

What? 

Being greeted by his knowing smirk and him inviting you inside is familiar; stepping across the threshold and kicking off your shoes in the hallway feels just so… easy.

Flopping down on the couch is easy, and waiting for Seungcheol to come back into the living room with two gleaming glasses and a bottle of wine is easy. Shuffling closer until you have your head resting against his shoulder is easy. Sipping at a chilled glass of rosé with his arm around you, the tip of his finger rubbing tiny circles against the point of your shoulder, eyes fluttering at this perfectly normal, totally platonic, absolutely-not-leading-anywhere-this-time contact is…

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks a few seconds after you set your now half-empty glass down. Your lips curl a little into a grimace on one side and a soft laugh rumbles deep in his chest.

You swear you can feel it vibrate all the way down to your bones.

“What is there to even talk about?” you sigh. “He wouldn’t stop comparing me to his mother, strike one. Spent twenty minutes explaining the plot of my favourite movie back to me, strike two. And then, after all that, threw a tantrum when I swerved his kiss goodbye after he’d eaten basically a whole loaf of garlic bread. Strike three. You’re out.”

He laughs again, and you adjust your head to peer up at him but he isn’t looking at you. He’s staring off at the opposite wall, not even glancing down when his arm tightens to pull you even closer. On cue, you nuzzle your head down into the muscle beneath his t-shirt, and you sigh. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask. 

“Nothing,” he says breezily. “Just… You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“I don’t deliberately go out with people one screw short of a toolbox, Cheol,” you grumble, lightly slapping his chest. “They always seem fine when we start talking.”

“Mhm,” he hums. You feel him move slightly and then his lips are being pressed to the part of your hair. You’re sure it’s supposed to be a little condescending, but it kind of tingles instead. But that’s just because of the way his breaths play over your roots. Isn’t it? “I know.”

“Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to find someone who—”

“Hey, I know, y/n,” he says again, still softly but just a little firmer this time. “It’s not your fault all these guys are dicks. But-…”

He trails off, tongue pressed lightly against his top teeth, and decides that maybe finishing this sentence isn’t the smart way to proceed. You wait a few seconds, just in case he changes his mind, and poke at his chest again when he doesn’t. 

“But what?” You ask. 

He shakes his head. “Nothing. It was a stupid joke. Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me,” you whine. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

It’s his turn to sigh, now. “But…” he starts, pausing for a mixture of allowing his nerves to settle and for dramatic effect. “I’m not complaining: the worse your date goes, the better sex we have after.”

It momentarily stuns you into silence and you suck your teeth at the remark, shaking your head. But you don’t sit up, you don’t shove him away, you don’t argue the point he’s just made whether it was a joke or not. Because…

“I hate that you’re right.”

His hand slides down behind you until it’s wrapped around your waist, his bicep strong against your back and his fingers light as they fiddle with the fabric of your blouse. 

“No you don’t,” he tells you, lips tweaking up on one side. 

You sigh, burrowing closer into his chest. He’s wearing the cologne he knows you like most and it smells faint, worn, as if he’s had it on for hours, all despite being only dressed in basketball shorts and a white vest. His plans tonight started and ended with you, and showing up here wasn’t promised until you were on his doorstep. Something about knowing he wore it just in case triggers an all too familiar ache between your legs.

Giving in to it?

Ha. 

It’s too fucking easy.

“Shut up,” you grumble. Your hand uncurls and your fingers splay over his chest, confessing your agreement and laying the foundations for you even if you deny what you want out loud. “Yes, I do.”

“Oh?” He asks at the exact moment you can feel his nails graze at your skin beneath your shirt. “Do you really?”

“Yeah.” You shift slightly, searching for just a crumb of relief from the press of your thighs, but it never comes. 

“I see.” He flattens his palm against your side, the other hand tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, eyes not quite meeting yours as they fixate on the strands already sliding back to their former place against your cheek. 

He gently clears his throat, tongue darting out over his lips for the most fleeting of moments, and when he speaks again, it’s lower, quieter, softer. “But if you hate it sooo much…” he ducks his head, close enough that his lips brush the corner of your mouth as he moves them. “Why are you here?”

He bumps the tip of his nose against your cheek, subtly turning your face so if you so much as shuffle, hiccup, breathe in too deeply, your smiles would meet. But they don’t. A hair’s breadth apart, you linger, eyes meeting his in a scorching challenge. One he doesn’t back down from. One he holds, and holds, and holds – waiting, for you, for his answer.

“Because,” you croak. Your throat feels dry, your eyelids suddenly heavy, lashes fluttering. 

“Because?” he taunts, his chuckled exhale tickling the tiny hairs all over your skin. 

You maintain his gaze still, and he chuckles, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. when you don’t speak for a few seconds more, he takes it upon himself to finish the sentence for you.

“Because you know,” he drawls, gravelly but still somehow heaven-sent and honey-sweet. “That no-one else does it for you the same way I do. Do they?”

You shake your head, the muscles in your neck tight as you wrestle with them not to surge forward and topple against him in a kiss. Seungcheol is an easily pleased man, but you know he loves a bit of a chase and it would be a little rude not to reward his hospitality by giving him one. 

“Say it,” he urges. You’re acutely aware of how his breaths stop fanning against your face once the words are out of his mouth, but you don’t give him anything yet. “Come on. You could have any one of those idiots if you wanted them, but you don’t.” A pause. “Do you?”

You swallow hard, cheeks growing hot. You shake your head again, “No.”

“Because…”

And after one, two, three, four, five thundering beats of your heart—

“Because I want you.”

Seungcheol smirks as he pulls your chin up, finally bringing his plush lips down against your own. It’s soft. almost tender. Barely moving — just a press, but it sends waves of energy through you anyway. 

“You’ve got me,” he says, pulling back an inch, studying your desperate eyes with his own. “Always gonna have me.”

And suddenly, it’s like his entire world might stop if he lets you go.

Both of his hands cup your cheeks as you shift up onto your knees, your own fingers grasping for dear life at his vest. He kisses you as if he could swallow you whole: hard and deep, breathing hot through his nose as his tongue works its way into your mouth and finds your own. You groan, and hearing the sound draws one out of him, too. There’s just something about kissing Seungcheol, and being kissed by him: you don’t even have to think. He just does. You just do. It’s easy.

His hands find the bottom of your shirt and he pulls upwards, separating from your lips to pull it over your head and toss it haphazardly towards the floor. He reconnects with you almost immediately, hands sliding down from your face to your exposed neck, to your shoulders, toying with the strap of your bra.

“You wear this for me, or him?” he asks, breathing heavily as he looks down at your covered tits, the red and white garment sitting pretty against your skin.

“Who d’you think?” you ask, equally fighting to gasp air into your lungs. 

“Better not have been for fuckin’... Captain mommy issues,” he mutters, kissing you hard one more time before his lips attach to the side of your neck. “Never liked the sound of that guy. Thought you were too good for him.”

“S’that right?” You ask, tilting your head back and stuttering out a sigh, lacing it with wisps of a laugh. “You never said so.”

He sucks your skin into his mouth and you swear you can feel every capillary beneath the surface burst one by one, your body-heat climbing to almost unbearable territory. “You were excited,” he says. “Just ‘cause I don't agree with your choices, doesn’t mean I’m gonna be an ass about it.”

And for someone trying their best to cover your throat in as many bruises as possible (no doubt so that if you bump into the asshole from HR who took you out tonight when you’re back at work on Monday, he’ll see that you had a plenty good time without him), it… feels kind of sweet that he’d hold himself back in the name of your theoretical happiness.

“Yoo good to me,” you chuckle. You’ve long since released your hold on his vest and are now threading your fingers through his hair. He kisses and sucks down over your collarbone, grinning against your skin all the while. 

“So?” he asks, tugging the top of your bra in between his teeth.

You glance down at him, biting your bottom lip at the sight. His pupils are blown-out, drowning his familiar warm, chocolatey eyes in black pools of desire. No lies, that’s always been your agreement. No lies. So you tell him the truth, pushing your chest up towards him and pressing his head down slightly so his top lip brushes against your tit. 

“Wore it for you, Cheol.”

“Mhm. That’s my girl.”

He sits up straight and pulls you down to him, smashing his lips against yours again as his hands slide around your back, fingertips making quick work of your bra clasp. He pulls the straps down your arms, grunting at the feeling of your breasts relaxing against his own chest; the bra joins your shirt on the floor, and soon after follows his vest, your hands clawing at it to get it off him as fast as you can.

“Up,” he says as your hands trail over his stomach, fingers dipping into every groove of muscle, feeling how they ripple as he reflexively tenses them under your touch. “Now.”

You oblige, climbing off the couch and standing upright. His hand finds the back of your shoulder and he guides you around to the side of the sofa, promptly pushing you down over the arm-rest so your face meets the cushions you were both just sitting on. He pulls your pants down your legs and helps you step out of them, dropping down to his knees and kneading at your thighs with a guttural moan.

“Gonna make you forget all about him, y/n,” he says. “Make you feel so good you won’t even remember his name.”

“Please,” you gasp, feeling his teeth sink into your ass. “So-... fucking good to me…”

He adjusts the position of your legs, bumping them apart until he can settle on his knees between them. His nose drags against the crease between the top of your thigh and the bottom of your ass, his lips trailing kisses all the way from the outside of your leg to where your pussy is throbbing for him. He skips over it, though, nipping and licking at the back of your other thigh, until you’re rocking your hips back to try and push him into your core.

“Be a good girl,” he chuckles, thumbing over the wet-patch in your panties. “I’m gonna look after you. I promise.”

His tongue meets your wetness just a moment after, dragging over the fabric and making you whimper. Your hands scramble to clutch onto something, one grabbing the edge of the seat cushion and the other balling into a fist. 

“Fuck, Cheol,” you hiss, feeling the heat from his mouth all over you. “Please – I need it. I need you.”

“Shh,” he says. You can feel his lips twist into a smile. God, you wish you could see him right now. “I’ve got you.”

When exactly his fingers tucked themselves under the waistband of your underwear, you’re not sure: all you know is that one minute, he’s breathing in your scent through the seat of your panties, and the next he’s yanking them down your legs and diving into your cunt like it’s his last meal on death-row. The sheer force of his hands gripping your thighs and his head burying itself between them makes you stumble forwards, the couch groaning as it shifts against the laminate flooring, and you cry out a wet sob of his name.

Who were you kidding, before, when you thought that this wasn’t going to go anywhere tonight?

The build-up to this started the second you told him about the date a week and a half ago.

But you can’t think about the mediocre pasta dish you ate this evening, or the moron who sat across from you at the table who kept checking his phone and glancing over your shoulder. You can’t think about how many times he went to the bathroom after receiving a text, or how he came back grinning cockily before he sat back down. 

All you can think about is how deep Seungcheol’s tongue fucks into you. How he fucking slurps all the wetness your pussy can give him, how he groans and moans and chuckles every time he shifts his head forward and flicks the muscle over your clit. Your head is spinning and your eyes begin smarting at the corners when his nails on one hand dig harshly into the fat at the top of your thigh. It stings, but it feels so fucking good. Your knees are weak, you’re about to bite clean through your lip in an attempt to be respectful to Seungcheol’s neighbours, and your knuckles are sore from the force with which your fist is clenched. 

Lord, he’s good.

“Don’t hold back,” he gasps, pulling away from you, a string of his own spit and your arousal still connecting him to your pussy. “C’mon, babe. I can feel you’re close.”

The loss of his mouth genuinely feels like the end of the world and you could buckle, in this moment. But he’s done this on purpose: he always does. He knows you. He knows the sounds you make and the way your body moves when you’re tantalisingly on the edge of your climax. His thumbs rub circles into your thighs and you just know he’s got the most obnoxious, insufferable grin on his face behind you while he does it: you can picture it, so perfectly. So easily. 

The orgasm you didn’t quite reach starts to ebb away from you and you give a grumble of frustration, pushing up onto your palms to turn around and look at him.

“You’re such a bastard, Cheol,” you hiss, and he grins back at you, his lips swollen and shiny as he licks over them.

“Get that pretty face back down, baby. I’m not done.”

It feels like a delightful punch in the gut, so you do. You drop back down onto your elbows, feeling him shift his position but you can’t see to what; his body heat never leaves yours even when his hands aren’t on you anymore, so you know he hasn’t stood up or gone far. It’s only when you clear your throat that you feel him again. Sat down with his back to the couch, between your thighs, nosing at your clit to get you worked up all over again: his fingers trail over your folds, collecting your arousal, spreading your lips and tonguing between them. You whine for him, keening and confused but overwhelmed at the stark shift from before. How he touches your pussy like it’s the first time, like it’s the last. 

He presses one long finger inside you, free hand pushing your hips into just the right position that he can suck your clit into his mouth. You feel yourself grinding down against his hand, begging him for more without having the words to ask for it, but Seungcheol doesn’t need to be asked. It’s intuitive to him. Eating you out could well be his day job. Another finger joins the first and he pumps them in and out of you at a pace you adore, his tongue flicking precisely over the bud in his mouth.

Your disappointingly lost orgasm from before starts to creep up on you again, and you know he knows it too. But this time, he doesn’t slow. This time, he doesn’t stop. He hums in the back of his throat: it’s permission, you realise, to come undone; burying your face further into the cushions, you let out a muffled series of expletives, sobs, moans of his name. You tumble over the edge with a broken cry, fingers curling into the couch cushions, and he only pulls away when your knees actually give out.

His strong frame is the only thing still holding you up by the time you’ve stopped twitching through the aftershocks, remembering how it feels to have full lungs and a working pair of eyes. You roll your head to the side as he slips out from beneath you, immediately sliding his arm around your waist and leaning over you to keep you steady. Through the material of his shorts, you can feel his hard-on poking at your ass: the fact that you’re this fucked and he hasn’t put his cock inside you yet makes your eyes water.

“Okay?” he asks, pressing tender kisses down the length of your spine. You just breathe, nodding with difficulty owed to your current position and the way all your muscles suddenly feel a hundred times heavier than normal. “Talk to me, sweetheart. You okay?”

“M’okay,” you say. “Just… gimme a sec…”

He keeps pressing his lips all over your back, hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips as you fully recover. You nod again when you’re a little more communicative, pushing up onto your elbows once more.

“Said I’d look after you,” he says. “And you were so good for me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, swallowing hard as you twist your spine uncomfortably to look back at him. Fuck it, maybe he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. Is that some great secret? Is it such a crime?

“You always are, baby.”

He looks down at you again: at the shape of your body, bent so crudely over the arm of his couch. At your messed-up hair, your smeared makeup, your soft, dewy eyes. He bites his bottom lip, swallowing hard, running a finger from between your shoulder-blades all the way down towards your ass.

“Can I?” he asks, pushing his hips against you again, your still-soaked pussy smearing arousal all over the front of his shorts where it meets them. 

“Please,” you nod, shifting your legs slightly to try and get more comfortable. He drops his shorts in a matter of seconds, cock springing free from their confines. It’s thick and veiny, leaking in his palm as he strokes it, one hand coming back to rest on your hip.

“Fuck, babe,” he sighs. “You’re doing so good.”

The head feels delicious against your swollen cunt and you gasp at the pressure of him sliding through your folds, leisurely lubing himself up with your arousal. It glides over your clit and you can’t contain the slight hiss that escapes you. He starts to say something, his voice just audible to you where you’re propped, but for some reason he stops short, and you don’t quite hear him anyway. There’s not enough time to dwell on it though: your eyelashes flutter closed when he prods at your entrance, pushing into you with hardly any resistance at all, and his unstarted, unfinished sentence is forgotten.

It’s still a stretch to take him and he eases himself deeper until his hips are pressed fully against your ass. He rests there for a moment, letting you adjust, letting your body mould to the shape of his own, and it’s only when you reach back with one hand to gently nudge against his wrist to give an okay that he starts to move.

“Good girl,” he says, quieter this time. Like he’s distracted. Like he’s contemplating. But you don’t ask, because you don’t really want to know: every drag of his cock against your walls feels like fireworks bursting over every inch of your skin, like being engulfed in flame, and nothing could take you out of how electric you feel. “Taking me so, so well.”

His hips start to thrust against you quicker, snapping so his cock buries itself deep but mercilessly quickly into your pussy. It’s only a matter of minutes until you’re clenching around him and when you do, Seungcheol – who you noticed early on into your relationship was one of the most vocal men you’d ever had in the bedroom – stops holding back the sounds you think back to when it’s just you and your trusty vibrator against the world. You swear that half the reason your sexual chemistry with him is so unrivalled is because of how loud you can both get.

You don’t know how long he’s fucking you for, sweat beading over both of your bodies and leaving you slick all over. What you do know, though, is that when he bends down over you, supported by one hand bracing his weight against the cushion by our head, he’s close. 

He isn’t groaning and grunting anymore. He’s whining. So agonisingly hard and so painfully wound up that he could snap. His voice is little more than a whimper in your ear when his lips ghost over the shell of it, thrusts slowing as he tries to stave off his high just a little bit longer.

“Wanna drown in this pussy,” he says, eyes squeezed shut, jaw falling slack as you spasm around his length again. “Shit – I love y-... love this… love this so much-...”

And this time, you fucking notice.

This time, you hear him. You know what he said before, now. When you didn’t care, when you just wanted him to fill you up, when you just wanted to have him pound into you until your brain disconnected from failed romances and shitty dating apps and people who weren’t him. Because he started to say it then, too – started to say I love y–

And this time… you say it, back. 

“I love you too, Cheol.”

Jesus, fuck.

Loving Choi Seungcheol is the easiest thing in the world.

He freezes, buried inside you all the way to the hilt, a bead of sweat running down the bridge of his nose and hanging onto the tip for dear life. His eyes shoot open, his head turns, and you meet his gaze by turning your own. He’s feeling everything. All at once. So are you. Arousal and need and fear – God, so much fucking fear – but love. Adoration, affection, endearment, devotion – shit, he feels it all, and it’s written in every line of his face, and when his lips move into a smile, when the corners of his eyes crease, when he lets it wash over him, it feels better than any orgasm he’ll have for the rest of his life.

Even the one that explodes through him when you start to grind yourself back on his cock and he lets go, fingers scrabbling to hold your hand, lips finding home on the back of your shoulder. He paints your insides with his cum, fucks it into you for as long as he can physically withstand. You don’t even have it in you to chase another climax of your own, too blissed out in the relief of your own feelings to feel inclined to try. 

So, maybe there’s a reason you kept accepting dates with men you knew you weren’t compatible with. 

Maybe there’s a reason you didn’t give those other people a real chance.

Maybe there’s a reason you always found yourself looking forward to the end of every night having dinner with a stranger.

Because all the roads lead you here. Because it’s easy being here – it’s where you belong.

He stays sheathed inside you for a little while longer, pressing kisses everywhere his lips can reach before he has to pull his softening cock from its home between your legs. You lament at the feeling of emptiness, even as his strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you upright for the first time in so long that your legs feel like jelly. It’s okay, though. He holds you against his chest, burying his head into your neck – there’s no way you’re going to fall.

(At least, no more than you already have.)

“I’ll give you everything,” he whispers to you, moving your hair out the way so he can press small, doting kisses to the line of your jaw. “I can give it to you. I was a fucking idiot before – I’ll give you everything I have. I don’t know if I can be perfect but anything you want–...”

“I just want you, Cheol,” you tell him. “Everything – screw all that. I just want you.”

“Be with me?” he asks. You nod, feeling him light up in a smile for the hundredth time tonight. Even though you can’t see it, you’re sure it’s as blindingly beautiful as the first smile he sent your way, all those years ago. (It was Joshua’s birthday. You remember that, now.) And the second. And every damn time since. “Forever, this time.”

“Forever, this time,” you agree.

Because spending forever with the man who lifts you into his arms and carries you towards his shower, so you can clean down and get ready for bed? Right now, it sounds so –

But everything with Seungcheol has always been easy. Easier than with anyone else.

thank u so much for reading! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all always so appreciated<3

[booksbluegurl]

Study Tip #2

How to not be overwhelmed by the vastness of your study syllabus?

I used to look at my one subject and get excited, but then I'd look at the another and another and another. And I'd get so excited to study that I wouldn't even want to study anymore. It felt like something that's too much to be done in the current moment. Or even in the whole day, week, month or year.

The way I fought through this is by sheer willpower. I do not exactly know of a hack. What I've done could be called a hack, because it worked for me perfectly but it takes a lot of will power that, let me tell you, you're definitely capable of.

Few steps that I used to not let myself feel overwhelmed before studying:

1: Let yourself actually feel overwhelmed. Don't get scared of it, don't shy away from it. Accept it. Whatever thoughts come to your mind, accept it. That's why I'm telling you to have some time set aside to analyse the syllabus. All of it. And when you do get overwhelmed, take a break, go for a walk and come back with the decision of doing what's in point 2.

Example:Lets say you have 15 chapters of English, 10 Chapters of Chemistry and 20 chapters of Biology. All of them are a little complex and lengthy. Go through the textbook, or the contents to atleast familiarise yourself with it all.

2: Now that you have good understanding of your syllabus, you must have atleast mentally broken it down into various parts. Now pick a part that you can do.

Example:Lets say you have picked up Cell Cycle from biology or you've picked up learning about particular poem from English or you've picked up Periodic Table from chemistry.

3: Often times we overestimate our boundaries specially if we're doing something for the first time, or after a long time. So, if you're panicking because you weren't able to finish the task you put for yourself (point 2), it's alright. You did great. Even if you have done is thousands times before, it's alright. Give yourself atleast 3-5 tries before judging yourself. That means, wait for the next 3-5 tasks. You'd likely be able to completely atleast 1 of them. How?

Example: Now, you realised that you weren't able to finish studying the whole chapter in a day. You're panicking but hold on, darling, let's take a deep breath, focus and will yourself to stay strong. Now, take one of these, let's say the cell cycle, break it down- 1. Read the contents of the chapter in text book.

2. Look at the diagrams, understand them, make them.

3. Read one topic at a time, let's say, Mitosis.

4. Do the questions of Mitosis.

5. Go to the next thing.

4: This time while setting how big or small that task should be, think about your last boundary: were you able to just scratch the line of the surface or were you far behind? And then set your next goal or task according to that.

One of the very important things to remember is that you shouldn't lose your hope. Everything is do-able. You just need to perhaps look at it for the 2nd or 3rd time. But you can do it.

- Tanishka.

Pictures from pinterest. Credit to the owners.

[rafesbabygirlx]

In Loving Memory of JJ

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Summary: Months after losing JJ, you're finally ready to step into the house you grew up in with him and go through some items to hold as keepsakes for Vivienne. A drabble from my series A Lot of Time has Passed.

A/N: what's the point of my series if I don't make a post honoring JJ. I'm gonna miss him so much next season. :(

Warnings: nothing but sadness

The afternoon sun streamed through the worn curtains of JJ bedroom, casting soft, golden rays across the room. Dust particles floated lazily in the beams, their slow dance almost reverent in the quiet space. The room felt frozen in time—the bed unmade, fishing rods propped up in the corner, and his favorite cap hanging on the bedpost, the fabric frayed at the brim from countless adventures under the relentless Carolina sun. You haven’t been back in your house since you’ve gotten back from hunting Groff. It’s been months and you’ve finally brought yourself to make it past the driveway. You’d make Rafe turn back home every time before. 

You sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, old floorboards creaking beneath your weight, with Vivienne perched on your lap. She toyed with the hem of her dress, eyes wide and curious as she took in the room, so full of memories and stories she was too young to remember. You glanced down at her, into her bright blue eyes, of course she got them from Rafe, but the softness in them always reminded you so much of JJ’s and that it made your heart ache. You knew you needed to tell her who he was—the uncle she would never grow up and make memories with but should always remember him for exactly who he was. Even if she didn’t quite understand now. You’d have no problem telling her over and over again as she grew. 

“This,” you said, voice wavering as you picked up a cracked Polaroid photo from the pile of belongings scattered on the floor, “is my favorite photo of your Uncle J. The bravest, wildest, most loyal person I’ve ever known.” The picture showed JJ at the Boneyard, grinning from ear to ear with his arms thrown around John B and Pope. They looked carefree, a trio bound by loyalty and a brotherhood forged by the rough edges of life on the Cut.

“He liked treasure,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her, the memory carrying you back to the nights JJ would burst through the door with sand still clinging to his skin, eyes bright with excitement as he spun wild tales of their latest adventure. “He and his friends—they were always searching for something. Gold, yes, but it was more than that. They wanted freedom, something better than what the island wanted to give them.”

Your daughter’s tiny fingers reached for the Polaroid, and you let her hold it, watching as she inspected the faded image with a solemnity that seemed far beyond her years.

“He was strong,” you said, eyes drifting to the board in the corner with notes pinned haphazardly—maps scrawled with routes, plans for the next great scheme. “He fought hard for the people he loved. He would’ve protected you, sweetheart. He would’ve made you laugh until your sides hurt and taken you out on the boat, showing you the stars and telling you stories about them.”

Your gaze shifted to the corner of the room where an old motorcycle helmet sat, its surface scratched and worn. “And he loved motorbikes,” you added, a soft smile breaking through the grief. “He’d ride that old bike down to the beach with the wind in his hair, reckless and free. It was his escape, his way of feeling alive when the weight of everything got too heavy.” You could almost hear the roar of the engine, the laughter that followed as he raced down backroads with John B chasing behind, whooping with joy.

“He said there was nothing like it,” you continued, eyes misty as you remembered his words. ‘When you’re on the bike, it’s just you and the road, like the world falls away.’”

A knot formed in your throat as you lifted a small shark tooth necklace from the pile, one JJ had worn more days than not. You placed it gently around your daughter’s neck, the string almost comically large on her tiny frame. She looked up at you, wide-eyed and confused, and you smiled, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“He used to say,” you continued, voice breaking, ‘It’s us against the world, always.’” You brushed her curls away from her face and kissed her forehead. “And even though he’s not here, I hope you carry that with you. Be brave, be kind, and always look out for your friends—just like he did.”

The room fell into a peaceful silence, the echoes of JJ’s laughter seeming to hang in the air. Your daughter leaned back against you, clutching the Polaroid tightly. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your brother’s life—the sand, the sea, and the stories—you knew that JJ’s spirit would always be with you both, carried in the stories you told and the memories you kept alive.

You didn’t notice Rafe standing in the doorway, watching you as you wiped away your tears. When you stood up, holding Vivienne in your arms and packing a box of things you wanted to keep, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. His embrace was strong and steady, and as you buried your face in his chest, the weight of your grief spilled over. He held you tightly, silently, as you cried into his chest for what felt like forever, until the room felt a little less empty.

When the moment passed and your tears had run dry, he followed you outside, where the Pogues were waiting. They stood together, their expressions heavy with shared sorrow. You couldn’t find the words, but they understood, their eyes speaking the silent language of loss.

Rafe took a breath and stepped forward. “I know you don’t like me,” he began, his voice steady but raw. “I know you don’t like having me around. But JJ’s gone, and I need you to know that Y/N  and Vivienne mean everything to me. I want you here, as much as you’ll allow it. To keep his memory alive for her. To be the aunts and uncles she needs—not by blood, but by choice.”

The group listened, their guarded expressions softening. “Thank you,” Rafe said, glancing at each of them. “Thank you for being the people you are, for being there for her. She’s lucky to grow up with you all around.”

A quiet nod from John B, a watery smile from Kie, and the unspoken promise of family settled between you all. You mouth them a grateful, “thank you” for not only being there for you but for listening to Rafe. In that moment, the weight of grief shifted, just a little, shared by those who loved JJ the most.

[meangirlstobin]

Do you have any hcs about Steve and his parents? Or just Steve hcs in general

oh god, do i. i have so many; silly, serious, overlapping, contradicting but i will just stick to my hcs which are (mostly) canon-based.

I've spoken about this before but I tend to hc steve and his mum having a enmeshed/emotional incest dynamic. I think mrs harrington overrelied on steve emotionally and divulged inappropriate details about her relationship with steve's father etc. so, steve and his mother are very close but he isn't fully aware of how damaging their dynamic is because he's more focused on his "asshole" dad, you know? I think steve's relationship with his mother is one of the biggest points of contention between stobin throughout their lives. Robin just wants what's best for steve but she can't understand why he doesn't just cut his mum off!!!

When it comes to mr h my thoughts are less concrete (unless it's about the mr h getting repeatedly kidnapped hc). I don't think he's horribly abusive but I don't think he's a good parent either. He's more emotionally distant than his wife. I typically see him being a "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" type. He wants his son to do his best and be the best but he's not going to provide more than the bare minimum that steve needs to get there.

I do think mr harrington has gotten physical before but when they argue I picture him as more of the dismissive type, "why am i even wasting my energy on this/you" kind of vibe.

I also think canon suggests steve's parents being absent (steve falling down the stairs as a baby (how!!!???), he rarely mentions them unless to compain about his dad or the one line about his mum). I don't think it's to the extent we see in fanon but it's definitely more than incidentally. When his parents are home, I think they oscillate between being overbearing yet passive aggressive and living like roommates. Steve has his own life, friends and hobbies and so do his parents but maybe every few days they're all around to have dinner together.

I think steve's parents love him, a lot even, but there are a lot of emotional issues which have complicated and soured the relationship. It's not unfixable nor is it crazy hostile but I think steve often leaves interactions with his parents feeling sad.

Obviously I have my beloved bpd steve hc (came to me in a vision dw about it), so I think steve was a child who had a lot of big confusing emotions that his parents were not equipped to deal with. That coupled with steve's mum being emotionally relient on him I think he drew into himself a lot. He's a social creature so I think he's most present around friends or girlfriends.

There was one interview where joe keery described steve as aloof and I think about that a lot! I think it's a perfect descriptor for him, especially in s1. he's kind yet distant but when he feels connected to someone he can be startlingly emotionally honest (moreso as the seasons progress).

Okay this is really long and i've barely scratched the surface on my hcs lmao but i hope u found this interesting! <3

[sordidmusings]

Just a life update and opening!

Brought up because of an ask wondering if I still do stuff here so I figured I'd put out some of whats goin on if anyone is interested! Also throwing it into the void of the internet feels less guilt inducing than forcing it on specific people especially after how overwhelmed folks tend to be cuz I'm bad at metering it out and not just being like 'light jokes about struggle that don't scratch the surface or say anything meaningful' and 'here is all the dark lore' 💀 It's also been a struggle because there really does sometimes feel like theres a whole ass language barrier within your own language when you're AuDHD.

I do still do headcanons and write and draw and yada yada there’s just been quite a bit happening and I’m doing poorly at keeping up with life maintenance let alone things I enjoy 🥴 with writing especially in my hobbies I find myself discouraged in what feels like poor quality of my writing and seeing that reflected back to me because I am Weak 💀 general overview of some of the bigger problems below the cut if you’re interested but I won’t bother y’all with the whole picture! Will be more a summary/overview/alluding to things over getting into gory details. Basically a lot will be covered but I won’t force anything below the broad strokes on y'all.

The end is an ask for people to please reach out if they are struggling so please take that seriously. I offer a space with me but please find wherever in this world you are at least somewhat comfortable and have someone be there with you while you process 🤍 I will have a header above that little piece just incase you'd like to skip to only reading that which is completely fine!

CW for mental health talks, allusions to family issues, references to rape and abuse, death by suicide, and suicidal ideation.

What's Up, Doc?

Between hospitalizations (old and new issues and unfortunate near misses 🤡), my couple jobs (the days my body ain’t tryin to give up and even some days it still is means back to the grindstone. Thank you capitalistic overlords 💀), money stresses (medical debt plus just like y'all know shit ain’t the best for most everyone rn), the spring struggle (nightmares + flashbacks get worse from seasonal + anniversaries of men not caring for consent amongst other things lmaoooo), the mental health slew (diagnosed with AuDHD and most of the big hitters besides a personality disorder), and a few other life happenings and old traumas I’m doing a terrible job at everything 🤡 most of it ain’t new so I know all the proper things to do to help for everything from years of therapy and managing the symptoms and all that but dotting my i’s and crossing my t’s hasn’t been offering any relief for a long while so I’m floundering and quite exhausted.

The health issues making everything difficult and painful ain’t helping but I’m also not being the best at taking care of some of them because Why Bother 💀 Many are issues I’ve had for years that ebb and flow in severity and I’m just tired of feeling them and having to manage them. I’m sure any of you with chronic issues understand the feeling well. Those with years and years of major depressive disorder probably also understand the frustration and exhaustion and guilt with knowing you should enjoy something, you WANT to enjoy it, but your body just can’t produce the reaction it should.

I tend to isolate because I’m managing it poorly enough that the topic tends to crop up with the closer few if they ask and that goes Badly cuz, even if they think they won’t, people get uncomfy with the topics which just makes me feel Worse from guilt and sometimes frustration from it being passed over for their comfort or lack of understanding. I am lucky enough to have more recently found one person who Gets It and a beloved soul from lovely old Jersey came back into my life so the bigger problem in that situation is me allowing myself to consistently receive support from them 🤡 One’s so sweet always telling me I can call any time and the other is of the same vein and my dumbass brain keeps being like “but that would bother them” or the usual “you deserve to get worse not get help” 🤡🤡🤡. Clown ass behavior.

Also some bad coping mechanisms make my typing and communication sloppy as hell and I’m quite ashamed of that so best hide that away while it’s going on 💀 due to insistence that it’s Fine I have forgone that instinct to what feels like very Poor Result 🥴 ah the eternal struggle between needing to be Seen to fight the sense of isolation and worthlessness but also being petrified of being perceived while imperfect. Not having any of the connections really be in person doesn’t help too much with feelings isolation because I don't really have anyone around me besides parents that have literally said "why are you making us deal with this" about the intentional near death miss 💀💀💀 my immediate world feels very much like it wants me gone in explicit and subtle ways but c'est la vie. Beggars can’t be choosers so at this point I’m likely just being ungrateful 🤡

One thing making it harder to keep trying is my folks’ years of insistence that I don’t understand my own experience and I’m just dramatic and make things up. It’s an echo of many painful experiences including a whole group intentionally playing games with my sense of reality to enable their friend’s abuse (they got unconsensual nudes from him out of it so that’s worth the price of treating someone like that right?). Such is life.

One of the new things I’m uncertain how to approach handling properly is the grief and such shifting back to the forefront from the first anniversary of my childhood brother figure being taken from us by his bipolar depression. I have known people taken by suicide before but not this close to home. My childhood wasn’t the happiest but he and his family were a bright place in it. His little sister was my best friend in the whole world through my childhood and their family treated me more like family than my own. He was the best mix of a good and bad influence in an older brother figure I could’ve wished for. He fought long and hard but exhaustion hits us all, sometimes even with proper help. What eternally pains me is knowing how helpless and scared he must have felt and even worse how absolutely alone he felt. That was his last feeling in this life. I can only hope that more than anything, whatever happens next is giving him relief, peace, and rest.

Talk on reaching out below!

On that note, if any of you experience suicidality too, my messages (or ask if you’re more comfy on anon) are always open. This is an issue that’s been in my life in many forms since I was 12, so I will not shy away from you or your thoughts. Even if shared with something uncomfortable or "ugly", I find the discomfort of sitting with someone’s pain negligible in comparison to being the one in pain so why not prioritize that person in their need? It’s also negligible under the importance of truly holding space to process those hurts and stresses instead of just simple little niceties.

I am not the best at being active but if I see any of these messages especially we will truly talk. I know how insanely isolating and disappointing it can feel when someone offers support to be nice and then shoves to the next topic or barely responds because it makes them uncomfortable. It is a bitter pill we must often swallow to forgive those who think they will help for making things worse because they have bit off more than they can chew. It is also a bitter feeling that that reaffirms to us that by our very nature, we are too much to handle and are too much to deal with for sharing our internal space and circumstance. But at the same time, all of us are simply human so who am I to malign someone for making mistakes or being imperfect? So long as someone truly wants to try, there is all the reason in the world to give them grace.

Qualifications kind of???

The one good thing that has come from a lot of the experiences that I’ve gone through is that it has forced perspective on me and forced me to learn skills in holding space, validating, and connecting to others in immense pain. No one is perfect in this skill (even therapists struggle - the number who have said they don’t know where to start untangling the traumas or who have cried at it and in turn needed comfort 💀 a strange experience I know my darling at least gets too lol) but I have found in both giving and receiving that honesty and openness is W A Y more important than being perfect.

This is something I’ve watched more people struggle with than not as life circumstances has not made it so that they must learn the skill at the same time that there are resources to learn it, so I may make more posts with advice for it than the bit I go through here. I’m not a licensed therapist so this isn’t going to be a clinical breakdown of how to be someone’s therapist but I would consider my experience as a confidant, consistent reading up on psychological and related sociological research, and experience going through various forms of therapy worthy of giving solid advice. Unfortunately, co-morbidities and resistant brain chemistry really make using the skills on myself Difficult 💀 but as brief examples of experience for validity speaking on this, I’ve been to a lot of group therapy where licensed therapists literally coach you on this, guided a safe space/group for SA survivors in college, coached friends who couldn’t afford therapy through suicidality or abusive situations, and coached survivors through feelings and decisions when deciding whether or not to charge or going through the process of charging their abuser. All of which is much easier to be effective to people you know irl but the support online can be nothing to snub your nose at either. None of this is to say I'm perfect or exceptional - neither is true - just that I’ve had circumstances and experiences that afford me a bit of extra knowledge in this.

In the vast majority of cases, someone who is struggling and coming to you for help wants you to be there - your thoughts, your feelings, your perspective. They don’t want someone sitting uncomfortably and saying the occasional “sorry” they want engagement because more than anything they don’t want to be alone. In a basic example, if you find yourself freezing when someone comes to you with something you don’t know how to handle, instead of saying nothing or only short cliches due to fear of making a mistake, be honest about that. “I’m not sure what to say right now to be honest because that’s so much to deal with. I can’t imagine having to live with that all the time. Is there anything in it frustrating you the most or that you’re having the most difficulty tackling?”. This is active listening and engagement. You are being honest with where you are at so they aren’t guessing what you’re thinking, you are showing that you see how overwhelming the situation is, especially for the person who has to live with it. If you can’t handle a conversation where these issues exist, how do you think it feels to live with them day in and day out, sometimes for years or the majority of a life?

Asking questions is SUPER important too. Trust the other person to only share what they are comfortable with and don’t assume all questions are bad. Asking questions is one of the truest and simplest ways to show you care because why would you want to know more if you don’t give a shit? Asking questions is also very helpful and one of the reasons talking to others about your issues is important - it gives the person struggling something to react to and give perspective. It helps them process the issue in ways they won’t be able to do by themselves. This may make the process sound slightly manufactured but I promise it’s not, especially as it becomes second nature to know what thing to use when. Communication is a skill so advice around it will inherently make it sound more clinical than the actual process is.

People are also not a monolith so while this type of being there works for the vast majority some people may not like it. That is also where communication comes in - check in with the person on if this is helping and what isn't helpful. Make sure to adjust when you make a mistake.

Conclusion

I’m happy to hold space for other issues as well. I’m no replacement for a therapist but I’ve been a helpful supplement to many people I knew struggling throughout the years so I’m at least okay at that! Since I’m doing pretty bad functionally right now the help won’t be as consistent as I wish but I will give whatever is in my power just like these things deserve. I hope to get better soon so that I can properly offer a stronger foundation of support outward again 🤍

[justbelievinginmagic]

Like a Waltz is top 3 best series I've read in my life. The progression of the story is not rushed, the time period is portrayed realistically, the sad reality of women and girls in establishments like that brings awareness to how easily a girl can be trapped in such an industry, and the general concept of it? Like not the organized crime thing, but a ballerina x rich guys pairing? Original af, never seen this twist in the mafia genre before, most ppl go for rich man's heir x mafia/ drug lord guy or poor in debt person x gang member, which I also love, but that's what makes yours so refreshing. Can't wait to see what's next in the series! Please don't feel pressured to update fast, good things take time! Love u byeeeee

oh my gosh this is such a sweet ask!! like im so so flattered! I'm so happy you are enjoying it and liking the realism!! I always try to portray things as real as possible (even if the situation is fantastical, i want the characters to feel real and to try to have you, the reader, feel their emotions.

im so happy you think the time period is portrayed realistically. ive always played by the rule of cool so if there is something that would be interesting to incorporate but it might not be early 1900s authentic (like sneak peek, i know the cars im imagining for like a waltz are way more 1960s than 1920s. theyre more reflective of the cars in the mv or like in the godfather. i like the idea of sleek cars rather than motorcars lol) i hope you guys understand. BUT with that said, i do try to keep it as authentic as i can. i love world building. i love the idea of their town being in between industrializing and the past like how some parts have electricity and other places still utilize candles. its really fun to imagine.

and i do really want to highlight the weird time of ballerinas bc its so sad. these women and men who literally work themselves and starve themselves often were objectified and seen as lowly when their work, the opera/ballet, was seen as high class and royal-ish. its just so strange and sad. ive done some research to make sure what im saying is real-ish, but most of my info does come from stories about degas and his ballerina works from art history courses. i know i dont go too into it but i hope the surface i do scratch is enough to paint a picture of their realities.

and im happy you like the concept!! the mv really inspired it like i cant say it any other way. if they didnt have ballerinas in the mv i wouldnt have thought about the mafia x ballerina pair. i think its fun bc as some ppl have noted in comments woosan and the others are utilizing the ballet as a way to observe the upperclass and best set their deals up to control the town. i hope that isnt too spoilery lol like they do control this town theyre the mafia boys. im glad that you enjoy the dynamic though! itll be fun as it develops more bc it'll become more complicated when it comes to the ballet, power, love, and control!

im excited to write more even if im not feeling super confident with the next chapter yet!! ive gotten 14k written of the next chapter already and i still havent fully developed the climax scene of the chapter so itll hopefully be worth the wait, word count wise!

thank you again for this thoughtful comment and for listening to my rambles lol. these comments really inspire me to write!! i love hearing what people like about my writing so i can hopefully incorporate more or add in little scenes inspired by their predictions hehe.

[fizzingwizard]

fav bits from the tamayama and otsuka interview about jigen

otsuka describing the initial reaction to him taking on jigen's role as "ehh what happened to Kiyoshi!?!"

"jigen isn't arrogant like most people" (bahahaha) he accepts people how they are and "I think that sportsmanship of his is really the appeal of jigen" yes YES that is a big part of my love for jigen and the lupin iii characters in general

"he's in great contrast to Lupin who is a bundle of greed" lol

lupin and jigen don't need to speak to communicate or to express their bond, though usual anime would probably want to put it into words. ehh this is really just a holdover from 70s values and expectations of men, what is and isn't manly to do or say. but it is interesting how it's developed into a kind of specific lupin-ish flavor today when it's so much less common. and people in general, not just men, understand that words can only ever scratch the surface where there's real depth of feeling.

tamayama: "SHY desu yo ne Jigen tte" x'D

"and I don't think he's a woman hater, I think he really likes them" THANK YOU otsuka I am validated everyone else can go home now thanks for playing buh-bye

also women think he's cute because he doesn't know what to do around them so he runs away lol. this is why in the book fujiko steals in jigen's gravestone lupin had graffiti'd "naive" (初) on jigen's picture. jigen and goemon should start a "grown ass men who haven't figured out women are just people" club

tamayama: "CUTE desu yo ne" x'DDD

otsuka praising the scene of jigen and goemon pedaling the tandem bike going "eh ho eh ho eh ho" lmao

so I don't wear or care about watches, so I hope I understood this. but basically on set tamayama complained about the strap on jigen's watch having holes and a "rock and roll" vibe I guess. too flashy for jigen I think was the point. so he made the prop department switch it for a normal one. and otsukas just like "yes correct."

tamayama: "I learned a lot from you, like about men's dandyism. I'd like to become older in the same [cool] manner as you" otsuka: "with a face like gary oldman"

they spent so little time talking about jigen's magnum and stuff even though it had its own section... I swear twenty years ago that would have been the longest part haha.

this interview was made for the fan girls i guess "ooh he's kind and cute and shy!!" haha. jk jk i enjoyed it. they surprisingly didn't spend a lot of time discussing the movie either, but that was kinda nice because no spoilers and it felt less like a twelve minute-long ad. just two jigens in a meeting of the mutual admiration society.

[switch]

hiii switch! I'm the same new Moriarty fan who sent you an ask before, I just got my NP3 Mori after speedrunning up to Traum! very happy about it. what I'm not happy about is... Ruleriarty. absolutely baffled to know that this is supposed to be the same old Moriarty from Shinjuku? I feel like I'm being gaslit because when I look at him, he looks like a knock-off Joker. also absolutely a clown and replaceable as a villain in Traum too btw. I didn't like him before and I don't now. you're the no. 1 Moriarty understander so I'd like to hear you thoughts about him

congrats on np3 moriarty! he really does need it with that unbuffed mod

well that’s the neat part. they’re not the same person. they’re from different timelines, except when the writers decide they are the same person anyway, except when the writers decide they aren’t the same person— don’t even fucking worry about it. it’s all net negative information.......

my thoughts are difficult to put succinctly because there's a lot of context required to explain my intense levels of frustration... i’m frankly really not actually keen to talk about ruler in general.. it's kind of a raw spot... those are all certainly reasons for disliking him, but it’s kind of just scratching the surface of a pile of proverbial straw that broke my proverbial back... you nailed the "replaceable" part, given he and other elements were written in during a later revision and implemented so poorly that people could tell even without external confirmation...

but i do still want people to understand why the bigger picture situation surrounding this character was and is such absolute shit (and how it's just one of many microcosms of fgo's egregious patterns of bold-faced shithead decision making the past 5 years), and that it was never just "lol angry that he's not an old man" or "lol can't handle another interpretation of a character you like", so i'm always open to answering that kind of stuff.

this post i made answering another anon is probably the briefest possible writeup of my thoughts i'll ever be capable of making, so i'll leave you with this.

TL;DR if you made the mistake of Actually Reading the text contents of The Video Game Fate Grand Order and you are capable of remembering or caring about said text contents for more than 2 years you can just go straight to hell because this game is ruled by the whims of one parts marketing department and one parts cowboy-committee. this incident is far from the only case of that, mind you. it's just the one that was Literally 9/11 to me specifically.

[canongf]

hi i know you said it was okay to gush in your askbox about our f/os and i am feeling Emotional about my husband copia so i thought i'd gush a little bit in your askbox if that's okay? i just got some cute art of him and me that i commissioned and i've just been so overwhelmed with love i need to get it out to someone ;w;

you know i feel like i suck at explaining how copia makes me feel and like how much i love him like i have all of these feelings bubbling inside of me but i don't know how to get them out without feeling like i'm not doing them justice because my love for him is so strong so all-encompassing that i hardly know what to do about it. i've never felt this way before it's kind of scary but a good scary.

like loving him is like a warm blanket on a cold stormy night. loving him is like the first sleep back in your own bed after a long trip away from home. loving him is like finding the perfect piece that pulls together and completes your favorite outfit. i feel echoes of his love in every kind thing that comes my way. his love makes me want to be a better person, to work on myself and have the motivation to push towards my goals. not because i feel like he wouldn't love me if i didn't, but because his love is my motivation, his love reminds me that i'm worthy of love, i'm worth the work it takes for me to find my own happiness. i'm being completely genuine when i say that i don't think there's anyone out of all the people who like him who understand him like i do and who have this same connection to him and i'm glad for that.

i just feel like it's so unfair that he's not real so we can't have our life together ;-; like i want to surprise him by showing up in the crowd at one of his rituals when he's out on tour, and of course he makes a big deal out of it and makes sure that everyone knows that his one and only, his sweet spouse is here with them tonight and they better applaud for it right fucking now!! but when he's back home i want to stay up late playing mario kart with him (he's got quite the competitive streak, so i let him win or else he'll pout, and as cute as he is when he's grumpy like that i figure it's easier to just let myself drift into second place and plus he's even cuter when he's got that smug victorious smirk on his face, lightly teasing me for getting hit by his blue shell), and watch shitty horror movies and laugh at the weird plotlines and bad acting. i want to go out to nice dinner dates and wear cute coordinated outfits. i just want to be with him more than anything in the whole world it drives me crazy how much i love him.

okay wow sorry that was A Lot like i said i'm just very emotional tonight thinking about him and how happy i am to have him in my life....i just think about him all the time i love him so so much....

ending this off with this picture of him that i love!! it's been my lockscreen for months because i can't bring myself to change it ;w;

my husband with a puppy,,,,,(oh to be a puppy being held by him...)

I AM JUST...

i think i have probably written and deleted at least 20 responses to this ask because it is so overwhelmingly beautiful and i feel like you do!!! words can't do it justice!!! this love is bigger than words!!! this love is bigger than me!!! and i'm so glad you have it!!!!!

i am so glad you have it!!! i am so glad you have him!!! i know that this message doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of the way you feel for him and the way he feels for you but the feelings in this message alone are more than what so many people can even imagine!!! this message makes me feel like when you see the ocean or the grand canyon for the first time!!! when all you can do is breathe it in and think about how we are so little and there are things that exist around us that are so overwhelming and vast that we can't barely comprehend it!!! and it makes you a little emotional!!!

thank you, thank you, thank you for coming to me and sharing your feelings with me!!! every single piece of this is just so beautiful and so overwhelming and it makes me feel whole!!! please do not ever apologize about sharing a lot or sharing at all and please know that my ask box is always open for you to gush in!!! you and your husband are always welcome here!!!!! 🖤

[primewritessmut]

symbrock, both if you want 4, 5, 21, 22, 23, 25

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

Honestly? I would love to play a video game of a down trodden man befriending a blood-thirsty alien that shares his body. Is it an RPG? A horror? A dating sim?

YES

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Goddamn you.

You know music is my weak area as a patron of the silences. Which means that songs don’t just come to my mind when I think of characters. However, I’m going to go find something. Just… hold on. It’s going to take me at least 30 minutes.

High Enough — K Flay

Go With the Flow — QotSA

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

Monsterfucking, baby. There are so many things you can do when one of the characters is just goo and I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface.

If you want me to be actually serious, there’s something about being fully known by someone else that’s always really compelling to me. Regardless of where the canon comes from (comics, movies, cartoons), it’s clear that the symbiote and Eddie understand each other on a level that’s… beyond. It’s a big part of why I’m drawn to the characters that I’m drawn to, I think, and these two are not an exception.

I don’t like being constrained by the symbiotes method of communication. A lot of the symbiote’s communication in the comics is non-verbal (at least to us, the readers) and it’s SO FUCKING HARD to write. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to eventually create a fic like that — I got close, once — it just means that it’s hard.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

I’m not much of a fic reader BUT I like it when Symbrock fics deal with the moral dilemma that Eddie has to face in regards to eating people. It’s sort of glossed over in the comics and completely ignored in the movies, but the realities of sharing a body with an alien that eats human brains is so interesting and I love it when writers tackle it head on.

Sort of on the flip side, I think it’s too easy to humanize the symbiote in a way that fundamentally changes what their relationship is/can be. When Venom is too human, I don’t particularly enjoy it. I want my cosmic space horror to retain some of their cosmic space horrorness. (Although, I’m sure I’m guilty of this to some extent, too. Like I said, it’s easy to do.)

23. Favorite picture of this character?

What can I say? I’m a sucker for the symbiote acting as clothing and Eddie’s heavy himbo energy.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Initially, I thought Eddie was just living a “boy meets parasite, hijinks ensue” kind of life. And, don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to write that energy. But the deeper you dive into these two, the more entangled they are in ways that border on obsession and possession. On both sides.

Their story is a lot darker than I thought at first which was absolutely not a deterrent. Obviously.

Someday, I’m going to write the dangerously co-dependent fic of my dreams. But not today.

[postnuclearwar]

See this all the time on the internet from Americans at other Americans, the "If you'd actually been paying attention in class you would know about X (typically an atrocity, or even a scientific fact)". One thing I need Americans who often spout this to understand, is that we all didn't receive the same educational experience.

Education varies so wildly in America, one part of it being a funding issue that leaves poorer districts behind with nothing, second part -No Child Left Behind- which ensures learners who aren't prepared for the next grade get pushed along anyway, leaving them more and more lost as they get pushed further and further along, giving us the illiterate teens we see constantly today. Third part of course is the empire that wants its atrocities erased and to be seen as the only "good" country to its citizens, leading to such great hits as "the civil war was about state rights", "Native Americans gave us this land", "the atomic bomb had to be dropped to end WWII", and a personal favorite of my school was to omitt everything past WWI in both World History and U.S. History, you know, because apparently nothing important happened from 1919 to 2005.

And I even haven't scratched the surface of the numerous problems that also lead to a subpar education, such as some states blocking free breakfast and lunch, the constant school shootings, COVID, the destruction of our reading programs (children are currently being taught to read by guessing the words based on the picture provided and having to memorize how words sounds as opposed to sounding them out and learning it naturally that way), banned books, and an education system that straight up doesn't care about the disabled students in its system.

All I'm asking here is that instead of belittling people who don't know these things, we instead rightfully point the blame to the American education system, because that is where change needs to occurr, where our outrage should be focused.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Mirror, mirror on the wall" - Keoghan!Joker x Detective!Reader

[TW: scars, mentions of past abuse]

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

SUMMARY: A scar is not equal to another scar. Despite that, survivors are pretty much the same. Joker meets a detective who's not so easy to impress or intimidate.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.6k

A/N: got inspired by playing 'Still Life' for the hundredth time. Old game but still great and highly replayable.

Gordon wasn't one to joke around, especially when it came to the life and safety of Gotham and its citizens. Still, you couldn't believe he was absolutely serious:

"Look as much as I hate to say it if there’s someone who can get some sense out of that madman, it’s you," Gordon confessed.

He's been at this for the entire week, no matter what excuse you gave him. Normally, he would be a lot more civil and drop the subject the moment you said "no" for the first time but, unfortunately for you, he was a little too desperate. You knew he simply cared and felt like there was nothing else he could do to push the investigation forward. It was that uncharacteristic pushiness that made you question your own will - if there truly was no one else and Gordon was crumbling feeling powerless, maybe you could take a leap out of your comfort zone and into the deep, dark chasm of uncharted trauma.

"Why me, Gordon?" you asked in a weak voice. Truthfully, you weren't sure why you were even asking him that question - you knew perfectly well why.

"You've been through shit, detective. Shit I can't put into words. You got a good look into a psycho's mind and came out alive. You survived history's worst and that changes people."

Elegant euphemisms were one of the reasons Gordon was so good with people. He knew that "change" barely scratched the surface of what happened to you.

"What about your bat partner in crime?"

The officer stood with his hands on his hips. He shook his head slightly before answering you.

"Batman may be good, really damn good but he lacks your self-control. Get him in a room with that guy and he’ll scream and bang on the glass like he did with the Riddler. Maybe even worse. And that ain’t gon’ get us anything useful out of him."

Gordon was right. You knew that, although didn't want to admit it as admitting it would rid you of all of your excuses and you'd have to face and make use of something that murdered a part of you years ago. A scar had to become a medal.

"Alright," you said quietly. Gordon's shoulders momentarily slouched. "I'll try but no promises."

"Good enough for me. Thank you, detective. I know how much this costs you."

"No, you don't, Gordon."

He didn't try to argue or reason. There was no way in which he could relate to your experience - to that dark basement and rusty chains. Although it gnawed at him, that he couldn't offer genuine understanding and sympathy to someone he cared about, Gordon was secretly relieved, even happy, that he was unable to. He saw how those terrifying days changed you, made you into an entirely new person and he lived in fear of what they would have done to him.

You would live a happy life never stepping foot on Arkham Island. The barbed wire, neogothic buildings, unkept gardens - all of that painted a grim picture of an already unwelcoming place. Arkham Asylum looked like Tim Burton's theme park joke was taken too far.

"My condolences, ma'am," the guardian who was leading you said. "Over here, we do everything not to end up in the same room with that freak and you came here willingly."

"Wouldn't call that 'willingly'," you said under your breath. Had Gordon appeared any less desperate or powerless, you wouldn't have agreed.

"Warden Sharp agreed to one hour interview," the guardian continued. He stopped in front of the door to the visiting room, his hand resting on the door handle. "If you need more time, your supervisor gotta send in a query. I know you probably know all the rules but I'm still required to tell you them, so: don't touch the divider, don't provoke him, don't hand out any prohibited objects. The guards are authorized to step in and immediately end the interview should they deem the situation dangerous for either party. Good luck with whatever you have going on, detective."

The guard gave you a sympathetic look and pushed the door open. For some reason, the lighting was outstandingly dim inside the room. While the side where the prisoners sat was bright, the visitors could barely see anything on theirs. Without a hint of anxiety in your step or facial expression, you entered the visiting room.

Once he got to see your outline in the corridor lights, Joker's eyes kept following each of your movements and microexpressions. Even when the bizarre darkness made you disappear for a moment, it felt as if he was still capable of seeing not only you but through you. There was a mischievous yet amused smile on his face. His visual did not terrify you - it no longer could. One simply cannot get scared of clowns after playing statues with the Devil himself.

"I'm a detective with the Gotham Police Department," you said as you sat down and pulled out the file you brought. "We're investigating recent bombings happening throughout the city."

"Sorry, sweetheart, can't remember making anything go ka-byool lately." His handcuffs rattled as he waved his fingers to accentuate his point. Joker's hands were drenched with already dried blood. That sight hit a little too close to home for you but you took a calm, deep breath and didn't let your sudden uneasiness show.

"Maybe not you but one of your old friends possibly had."

You pulled a few papers stuck together with a paperclip out of the police file. Carefully, you slid the small dossier through the small opening in the Plexi divider. It was a very 'train station booking office' design.

At the very top of the papers was a mugshot. The picture presented a heavily tattooed man with a bizarre haircut and a harelip: Cooper, who used to be something akin to an underboss before his boss, Joker, got locked up. Curiously, Cooper seemed to literally vanish off the face of Earth as soon as that happened.

Joker barely spared a glance at the picture when he voiced an opinion with utmost certainty:

"Nah, it's not him."

He pushed the papers back towards you with disinterest. It shouldn't be surprising: he surely knew more about Cooper and his possible associates than the police did. You couldn't tell him anything new.

"What makes you say that?" you asked. Joker only laughed.

"He's an absolute, complete, useless moron. He lacks the, hmm... " he paused looking for the right word while waving his hands, "sophistication for something this big."

"And yet he was your go-to for so many years. How did that work out?"

"Darling, you know what's great about working with idiots?"

"They don't ask questions?"

"Oh, you were so close!" he exclaimed giddily. "They don't question."

Were all antisocial people so nitpicky?

Although the building was old and made of stone, the air inside was very warm. Feeling a little hot, you rolled up the sleeves of your shirt, reluctantly presenting the very thing that made you eligible for that lovely interrogation you were conducting: various burns and scars left from chains digging into your skin. At least once a day you considered getting full sleeve tattoos to cover them up but it wasn't considered exactly professional among higher ranked police force. You didn't need another stigma following you and your career.

"It's you." Joker cackled with mysterious satisfaction. Was he expecting you? Truthfully, it wouldn't be so surprising: your survival made national news and the demimonde, directly connected to your capturing, could only be equally interested. "Please, indulge me, princess peach."

"How about you tell me what you know about the bombings and I'll tell you about what gives me sleepless nights."

"Aw, you're trynna tease me, officer?" His pronunciation of the title was at least mocking. It didn't impress him one bit and neither did the badge. "I don't like teases. They ruin the fun."

"Treat it as a fair exchange. Intel," you pointed at yourself first, "for intel." You pointed at Joker to make your point.

"And what if you're boring, princess peach?" he asked with a whine in his voice. "Who will guarantee my fun time?"

"No one," you answered with a shrug. Although that wicked smile never left his face, you thought that a shadow of viciousness appeared in his eyes. Something about your aloofness was getting to him. "You either play with fire or there's no deal. Just you and your sad little life in your sad little cell. No fun for either of us."

"Risky business, princess peach," he sang to you.

You had to make him cooperate somehow or anyhow. Momentarily, you leaned closer to the Plexi divider. The tip of your nose was nearly touching it. Joker's smile only widened.

"You tell me what I want and I'll tell you everything you want to know," you said quietly. "Every darkest, most fearful memory I have. You want to hear what he did to me and how? How loud I prayed to God to finally kill me? First, you gotta tell me about Cooper and who he could be working with."

Joker was quiet but appeared very cocky in his silence. For a moment he was simply staring at you, his eyes studying your face - he was evidently waiting for something.

"I'm looking forward to our little dates, sweetheart."

It was suspicious to you that between you and Joker, he was the one imprisoned and yet he seemed to be the only one enjoying himself. He wasn't stupid - he knew you needed him more than he needed you. In fact, he probably had figured out that if Gotham's police goes to him for help, you must be in a really hopeless place. Joker was going to milk your little arrangement as much as he could - that you were already certain of.

[mackenzielovee]

okay that was perfect. i was laying in bed with my mouth open at the audacity of sarah. y/n closed the door, which was clearly saying don't come in, wait for rafe. she came in and got the kids all excited. calling y/n barbie? what even is her problem? she's always had a problem with y/n even though she's hidden it for years after john b broke up with her. i don't understand sarah's motives. it makes you think. i find it so interesting that y/n was on sarah's side but then sarah ruined it by saying that bit about y/n at the lunch. wouldn't she want y/n on her side? so that she could get money from rafe through y/n? not that I think that y/n would, I think she would draw the line there but still. i would think that sarah would want y/n as a confidant.i honestly hope that the kids just forget about sarah as they get older so that memories of her won't cause them any pain. especially connor, I feel like he was closer to sarah than josie. I'm interested to see if sarah tries to come back. i feel like y/n and rafe will sit the kids down and explain to them that sarah isn't coming back because she isn't a good person and if they see her they should stay away. there was a person like that in my parent's life before I came along but they sat my older brother down and told him that she isn't a good person and if he sees her come find one of them, don't talk to her. I've never met her but because I look so much like my parents they show me pictures of her so that if I ever see her I stay away because they think she would recognize me as their daughter.

i feel like y/n and rafe need to sit down together, without having to worry about the kids and just talk about the situation, y/n air's out all of her feelings, and rafe his. rafe explains what exactly sarah did and they decide how to move forward as a family. while I think they are scratching the surface about moving past the situation I think they need to have an extensive conversation to ensure they are on the same page and know each other's feelings.

LOVE this whole analysis, first of all. i completely agree with what you said about sarah, that she should want y/n on her side because, in sarah's mind, y/n is the weaker link. however, sarah is sarah, and she doesn't think anything through (as we've seen over the years).

i also think it's interesting what you've said about them scratching the surface of this issue. i completely agree. sarah has proven time and time again that she can absolutely destroy things with a few words dropped, and i think rafe and y/n have a long way to go in terms of not letting her "step" between them in a lot of ways.

thank you so much for reading and sharing your thoughts with me. you're so wonderful and amazing and supportive, and i feel so lucky. love you bunches, xoxo

[skepticalarrie]

https://indiaalphawhiskey.tumblr.com/post/665868331847434240/hi-sorry-i-dont-believe-in-larry-but-i-dont-go

Hi allie just wanted to say I loved what you said and glad to find an anti who is actually asking a genuine question in a nice way. I seriously don't thing antis [in general] get what it is we believe and why. We do not believe larry is real based on random theories or things we made up. It's all a continous 10+ year timeline of facts that would make no sense unless larry is real and coincidences that after the 2nd, 3rd, 4th ext. time it's no longer a coincidence. Most anti threads I see trying to debunk larry is just random 2012 pictures or things that aren't even larry proof. How do antis genuinely ignore the 10+ years of clothing shared, their 10+ matching/romantic tattoos and their songs which talk about two halfs of the same relationship, and about louis songs which talk about being closeted in a homophobic music industry [plus mentions how his lover knows what that is like as well.] I just don't get how one can ignore all that and what I mentioned only scratches the surface. Princess Park and Louis tshirts have really gotten me lately. 😭😭😭 My all time favorite thing is We Made it and You're still the one cover. 🥺

Hi Bria! How are you?

Yes, that's exactly it. I think people jump to conclusions very quickly, they already have this idea of how things are supposed to go, so they're not even open to understand what the fuck we're saying here. And like you said, yes, they're always "debunking" the wrong thing ahahahah and always completely missing the point, that's very telling for me because it proves they have no idea what they're trying to debunk in the first place.

I think is normal that the most shallow things (like pictures, innuendos, or whatever is not even proof but just a reaffirmation of what we already know) are what catch people's attention at first. Because those are the most simple things, you don't really need to think about it. I can totally say that my first impression of Larry was that people were going absolutely crazy 😂 I was like just because they're touching doesn't mean they're together, and it took me a while until I was able to dive in and understand the whole context and complexity of what people were actually trying to say with that, and honestly, to deconstruct myself and understand there was nothing unlikely about two guys dating in that context.

In reference to this.

[bakubabes-tatakae]

The Uchiha In The Leaves (Part Nine)

Author’s Note: If anyone wants to be in a taglist for this feel free to let me know! Happy to do it for anyone!

(Kakashi x Reader)

Summary: What happens when Y/N finally returns to the Village Hidden in the Leaves? Her life is flipped upside down when not only does she find the man that’s awaited her return, but she finds someone she thought she’d never see again.

Part One, Part Two: *NSFW Ahead!*, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight: *NSFWish Ahead!*

Part Nine:

Word Count: 2,202

*Y/n's P.O.V*

I found Sasuke sitting on the small porch in front of the house. He was sitting on the step when I opened the door. He didn't move when I came out so I sat down next to him. I put my head in my hands for a minute before I talked to him. "I'm sorry Sasuke."

He looked over at me. "For what?"

"Last night, I should never have taken my anger and stress out on you like that."

"It's okay. I get it. I struck a nerve with what I said and I shouldn't have."

I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and pulled him into me. "You know that I cared more about you and your safety than I did having Zabuza alive, right? I would have died trying to save you if he had gotten any further yesterday."

"I know." Sasuke looked up at me. "I just couldn't stand to see you as hurt as you were when he went after Kakashi-Sensei. You two weren't as secretive as you thought you were walking through the woods either."

I chuckled at him. "You three can't say anything when we get back to the village. It has to stay between the three of us. Kakashi and I don't want people in the village to look at us any differently. I don't want them to break our team up. It's going to be hard enough to hide that the two of us are together when you come home with us."

"You have my word Y/n." Sasuke stood up from the porch, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. "Love you big sis." He smiled as he walked back into the house.

As Sasuke walked through the door Kakashi walked out. He sat down next to me with a loud sigh. "Are you alright?"

I looked over and smiled. "Yea. I'm fine. Just had to have a heart to heart with him after what happened yesterday. I told him that the three of them needed to keep our relationship to themselves until we're ready to say something."

Kakashi kissed the side of my head. The Mask was silky as it touched my temple. "Eventually we will. We just need to find the right time."

I sighed and laid my head on his shoulder. At least with the kids knowing it would be a little easier for us around them. We wouldn't have to worry as much about what we said.

* * * * * * 

Training the kids for the upcoming battle would be the hardest thing we had to do. We had told them to meet the two of us in the forest the following morning. Kakashi still wasn't completely up to par and had resorted to walking around using crutches to keep his balance as much as he could. I was still recovering from my injuries, but we had to prepare them as soon as possible. Who knew when Zabuza would strike again? And who would he bring with him this time?

The three of them stood in front of us, ready to learn. Kakashi leaned on his crutches and was hopeful that the kids were as ready to learn as they looked. "Okay, training starts now."

Naruto was excited, like he always was. "Alright!"

"First," Kakashi put one finger up. "We'll begin with a review on chakra, the ninja's basic source of power. Understanding chakra is essential."

Sasuke was getting cocky, something that was his specialty lately. "We know that."

Naruto piped up with him. "He's right, a long time ago we learned about catra..."

I hung my head and looked over at them, hoping my disappointment was clear. "Chakra..."

Naruto looked embarrassed and started to sweat. Kakashi looked over at Sakura. "Go ahead Sakura." He knew she would be able to explain everything to Naruto quickly.

Sakura put her hands on her hips and I smiled and chuckled a little, Kakashi watching me out the corner of his eye. "Alright, Naruto. I'll explain it simply so you can understand it. Chakra is the elemental life energy that a ninja uses in jutsu. It's the source of his power. Now this energy comes in two forms; there's the phsyical energy which exists in all the cells and the entire body all work together. The other is spiritual energy, the primal source of power which is intensified by training and experience."

I yawned and saw Kakashi smile at me, trying not to laugh at me as Sakura continued. "As you see, these two chakra must be drawn out and brought together in order to perform jutsu. Finally, hand signs focus and unleash the chakra."

When Sakura looked back at Kakashi with a smile he looked over at Naruto. "Right on all points. Iruka-Sensei really did have some excellent students."

Naruto was still sweating. "What's the big deal with all these complicating explanations? The whole point is to learn the jutsu, isn't it?"

Sasuke looked annoyed, but he couldn't help but agree with Naruto. "Naruto is right for once. We're already using chakra in our jutsu."

I looked over at me little brother and raised my eyebrows. "No! You have not mastered this power, you've barely scratched the surface of it!" I was just as frustrated with Sasuke's cockiness as Kakashi was getting.

Naruto started to raise his voice. "What do you mean?"

Kakashi sighed. "Calm down a listen." How did we end up with these two stubborn kids? "It's just like Sakura said, you have to draw on physical and spiritual energies and then combine them. But, how do you do that?" Kakashi looked over at me, clearly wanting me to continue. He knew that Sasuke listen best to me.

I nodded. "Each jutsu uses a differnt type of chakra and in different proportions. You must select and combine them in exactly the right way. Up to now you've just guessed at the proportions, hoping they'd come out right. Even if you produce a lot of chakra, if you can't balance and control it, it's all worthless. The jutsu wont work at all of it'll be a joke. You waste so much energy that way and then you're out of chakra and you can't fight at all, you're just a target."

Naruto looked a little embarassed, knowing he had a problem with that in the academy. He scratched his head. "So how do we change that?"

I was getting more frustrated so Kakashi cut me off. "Train so hard that controlling your chakra becomes second nature. To achieve this goal you must be ready to put your life on the line."

They all looked confused, especially Sakura. "What do we have to do?"

Kakashi pointed up. "Climb a tree."

They all spoke at once, complete confusion in their voices. "Climb a tree?"

"That's right." I smiled and cut Kakashi off. "But there's one rule; no hands."

Now the kids were even more confused. Sakura just looked annoyed. "What? You're kidding?"

"Are we? Let's see." Kakashi looked over at me and nodded. We both put our hands together and balanced our chakra. Kakashi hobbled over to the nearest tree and I followed. We climbed up the same tree , using just our chakra, focused on our feet. The kids stared dumbfounded on the ground. Just to throw them off even more we walked to the largest branch on the tree and hung upside down, having to focus even harder so we wouldn't plummet to the ground. "You get the idea. Focus your chakra to the soles of your feet and use it to connect to the tree. This is one way to use the power of chakra." Kakashi smiled at them.

"Wait a minute, that's a nice trick, but how does that help us fight Zabuza?" Sakura was once again, full of questions.

I let out a breath to calm down a little before speaking. "It's the only way to fight Zabuza. That's the entire goal of this training you guys. First, you'll learn how to draw a precise amount of chakra to a precise part of your body. This is difficult for even advanced ninja. This type of climbing requires a precise mixture of physical and spiritual energy and the bottoms of the feet are the most difficult place to balance chakra. Are you getting the picture? If you can master this, you can master any jutsu."

Kakashi interrupted me. "Well, theoretically," I shot him a glare. "The second point is to learn to maintain your chakra. When a ninja is in battle it's even harder to maintain and control his chakra levels, a deadly mistake. To avoid this maintaining chakra must become second nature, effortless." I paused for a second. "Well, I could talk about this all day, but that won't advance your skills, will it? You need to apply the power of chakra through training."

Kakashi pulled out two kunai and I pulled out one. We threw them to the kids. Naruto and Sakura caught Kakashi's and Sasuke caught mine. I spoke. "Use the kunai to mark the tree at the highest mark that you can climb, without using your hands. Then try to get past that mark the next time. At first you'll need to run at the tree so your momentum will take you as high as possible. Until you get used to it anyway."

Kakashi continued where I left off. We were trying our hardest to teach as a pair. "Ready?"

Naruto picked up his kunai. "I'm ready. This is gonna be no sweat all the way, believe it. Remember what you said Sensei. I'm the one that's grown the most."

It was then that we knew we should never have said that to him. Kakashi sighed. "You're definitely the one that talks the most. Now get focused and do it."

Naruto looked offended, but shook it off. The kids put their hands together and started to balance their chakra. They all took off at a run. Naruto made it two steps up the tree before falling. Sasuke made it about a quarter of the way before his chakra balance went off and smashed the tree some with his foot, marking it with the knife before coming back down. Sakura on the other hand sat on a branch about halfway up her tree, smiling down on the boys. I was extremely proud of her. "Well," I looked particularly at Sasuke, not afraid to be the toughest on him. "Looks like the female member of the squad has the most chakra control."

Sakura stuck her tongue out at the boys and Kakashi praised her. "Well done Sakura."

Naruto was at least being a good sport about it. "Yea! Good job Sakura. I always knew you were awesome, believe it."

Sasuke looked up at me and mumbled, not realizing that we could all hear him. "Whatever."

Sakura was instantly distraught, clearly she was hoping she would impress him. Kakashi tried to help her out a little. "Not only can Sakura control chakra, she can hold and maintain it as well." He looked toward Naruto. "We spoke about someone becoming Hokage one day, didn't we?" He was trying to get a rise out of the boys to make them try harder. "Seems Sakura's got the best chance of that. Wouldn't you say?" Kakashi stepped over the line with his next crack, not only getting a rise from Sasuke, but from me. "And as for the great Uchiha clan, maybe they're not so great after all."

Sasuke and I glared at Kakashi, and so did Sakura. "Shut up Sensei, you talk to much."

Kakashi looked over at me. "Alright, I think they're motivated. I know Naruto and Sasuke have much more chakra within. If this training works their mastery of chakra will become a valuable asset."'

I was still glaring. "And you little comment about the Uchiha clan? What was that?"

"I was just trying to get your brother going, I know how he feels about your clan."

"Well, don't push it with that again Kakashi, or I'll knock your chakra off balance and let you fall from this tree."

He chuckled at me. "You're cute when you're angry." If steam could be coming from my ear it would be. And with that, they all began to attempt the tree again, each time getting just a little farther.

* * * * * * 

After an hour or so the kids were all exhausted. The kids were definitely learning from the teamwork. Naruto went and huddled next to Sakura. Kakashi smiled at me. "He's catching on. From now one he'll only get stronger and stronger. How strong tho?"

I leaned my head on his shoulder. "Naruto possesses more chakra than Sasuke. I can feel it."

"In fact, the amount of chakra he possesses is greater than my own, and yours."

Taglist 💕 @nubiadethemyscira @nimeryaa @o-franzii-o @chidori-mint @fan-g0rl @ari-hatake15 @puredicks @hunie-hun

[hardyimagines]

Caught

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Alright let me try this, aight. Okay okay... First, I've been living of your imagines and stories for the last few days, so here we go...!! After typing this I don't remember the numbers, so one was like #150 or something and was along the lines of "What are you wearing?" And the other #155 that said "It's not what it looks like.... Okay... Maybe it is". Preferably the first one by the oc/reader, the second by the character... That character is up to you, I'd like either Max, Alfie or Eddie...

“What are you wearing?” + “It’s not what it looks like.”

Warnings: Sex & Masturbation.

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The bed creaked beneath your adjusted weight. Kicking the comforter off of your recently shaved legs, you hissed under your breath and lowered your hand to your skin. Scratching viciously at your irritated flesh, your eyes rolled to the ceiling, annoyance glistening evidently in your orbs. This is why you didn’t shave during the winter! The pain afterward drove you crazy. The cold weather was your favorite because jeans or leggings shielded the prickly hairs on your body. You folded your arms over your chest and huffed in defeat. No amount of lotion had seemed to heal or cease the pain.

The ringing phone to your right drew your attention away from your itchy legs briefly. Lowering your hands away from your body, you hunched over the crumpled bedding and retrieved your phone. The grey duvet fell to the floor in a heap, forgotten and unneeded. Pressing your thumb against the green, answer button, the annoyance in your gaze vanished and excitement filled them instead. Eddie Brock’s handsome face filled the screen, far too close. His cheeks were red and his features glistened with sweat. He looked as if he’d been running and his harsh breaths told you that he had.

“Hi, baby.” Your soft voice floated through the phone. He smiled widely at your greeting before brushing his hand through his brunette locks. He set the phone down on the dresser, propping it up crookedly. You couldn’t see anything apart from his shoulders, neck, and face. The bare skin of his arms made you bite your bottom lip. Business took him far from you. An hour maybe didn’t sound far, but it was when you couldn’t just go visit. He’d been gone for two weeks and the two of you had talked, multiple times, about meeting up for lunch but it hadn’t happened. He was just too busy. He was working on a certain story — being a reporter wasn’t exactly suppose to take him far, but what his boss said, he did.

“Hello, gorgeous.” His husky voice filled your silent bedroom. Adjusting the pillows that resided behind you, you fixed the slouched position and fluffed them up before leaning back and against them. Holding your phone at eye-level, you tipped your head to the side.

“How are you?” Your lower lip pushed out. “Suffering without me?” His blue eyes flooded with amusement before he nodded his head. He didn’t have a chance to answer you verbally before you spoke up again. “You should come back home to me.. I’m so lonely.” You told the man with a cheeky grin.

“Just a few more days.” He promised. His hands pressed against the wooden surface of the table. He was so in love. You could see it, plain as day, and it made your body feel hot. You returned the admiration and the strong feeling, a feeling that you never knew could be so strong. Eddie straightened, popping his tight back. “And then I’m never leaving for work again. This is too far and I’ve been gone for way too long, haven’t I?” You whimpered out softly.

“Yes, yes, you really have.” Suckling on your bottom lip, you sighed gently before rolling on to your side. Standing your phone up against the lamp so you didn’t have to hold it, you let out a breathy sigh before once more looking to his bare shoulders. “So.. what are you wearing?” Your soft question made his ears twitch. “Or are you even wearing anything?” Setting your elbow on the bunch of pillows, you set your cheek in your palm and gazed at the man. Eddie smirked slowly, tongue gliding over his lips.

“I’m about to get in the shower.” He informed you. Lifting the phone, he made his way into the hotel bathroom before setting it on the counter. The placement of the phone gave you a beautiful view of his chest and stomach. The hem of his boxers could be seen, hugging his waist. You pouted.

“You’re teasing me, now.” You mumbled out, eyes running along his body. You were starved of him.

“I’m not! I swear it!” He argued. “I’m just taking a shower, you’re the one getting all worked up.” He chuckled lowly. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear, he smirked toward you. He pushed the material to the floor. You couldn’t see much of what he’d revealed so you pouted further.

“You’re an ass.” You hissed out before rolling on to your back. Gazing at the ceiling, you placed your hands on your tummy and shifted. The want bubbling in your stomach was growing stronger and stronger. Sitting up, you drew your strands up hair up and into a snug bun.

“I’m not.” He told you before kicking his underwear to the side. His eyes moved along the phone screen, glued to you. “I’m just..”

A sharp knock at the door silenced your boyfriend. He looked over his shoulder before reaching for the robe that hung on the door. Dragging it on to his body, he heaved an exhausted sigh. His blue eyes looked so worn and eyelids ready to drop. He looked back to you, lips pursed.

“I’m sorry.. I’ll call you back, alright, baby? I think that’s probably my boss.” You saw the disappointment on his face, and you could tell all he wanted to do was come home. You didn’t fuss though about not being able to talk. You knew he had to work.

“Don’t apologize. Have a good night, call me in the morning.” You kissed the phone before waving to him as he pressed the hang up button. Dropping your phone on the bed, you climbed off the mattress and moved to the closet. Seeing him, so lonely and drained, it made you want to go to him. So you were going to. No more cancelling or letting work get in the way. He was only an hour away and too much time had passed. You lugged out a worn backpack and tossed it on to the bed before dragging out some clothes. It was a good thing you’d shaved. Smiling to yourself, you pushed two pairs of jeans, some leggings, and three sweaters into your bag before zipping it shut and snatching your car keys off of the table. Heading for the door with a hopeful grin, you rushed from your apartment and headed out into the cold city.

It was crowded which meant the roads were no doubt packed. People bustled along the streets, shoulders bumping and apologies automatic. You climbed into the small car and immediately stuck the keys into the ignition. Turning the nozzle that controlled the heat, you ensured it was on high before strapping in and beginning the journey. The hour would probably drag out to be a little longer than expected, but only because of traffic and you wouldn’t know how bad it was until you got to the highway.

Eddie was sat on the bed, elbows on his knees as his droopy eyes moved over his boss’s face. He was being chewed out and he really wasn’t even listening. All he acknowledged was the tone of voice being taken, but he didn’t let it bother him. He instead thought about you, envisioning your sweet smile and warm eyes, pouted lips and clingy body. He’d give anything to be able to hold and kiss you again. A few weeks felt like an eternity. He couldn’t wait to get back home. He heaved a loud exhale before looking to his boss when the man went silent.

“Do you understand?” His boss spoke up.

“Yes- Yeah.” Eddie grunted put before looking to his boss.

“So you’ll stay?” The man spoke again.

“I’m sorry?” Eddie frowned suddenly. “Stay?” His Boss wore a look of confusion, features twisting with distaste because of the clear fact that Eddie hadn’t been listening.

“Yes. You, Eddie. Stay here.” He spoke slowly, attempting to make the task much clearer. “For another week or two.” Eddie stood then, adjusting the ties on his robe.

“Sir, my girlfriend..” He began to explain, but he immediately fell silent. His manager definitely wouldn’t care about how much time he got to spend with you. “I mean, yeah. Sure.” He whispered. He felt so defeated. He couldn’t lose this job. He didn’t know what he’d do if that was the case. He needed it. His boss shook his head in disapproval, but he didn’t want to be here any longer, so he stood with a short nod and headed for the door.

Eddie stood from the bed and made his way back to the bathroom. He wanted to call you back and tell you what had been said, but right now he felt so.. vulnerable. He felt like he was going to collapse. Another 7 days — if not more, without seeing you? He groaned out before looking toward his phone. Opening it, he hunched over, elbow pushing into the counter. His blue eyes slid along the screen, finger tapping on photos so he could swipe through them. Each one was a picture of you of himself with you. A little twinge of delight fluttered in his stomach before floating south to his groin. He narrowed his eyes, cheeks reddening in the slightest. Was his body serious? Right now? Eddie let out a quiet growl before moving his hand to his face. He couldn’t believe he missed you enough to get worked up just over a photo.

The man tongued his cheek before locking the phone. Despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at you anymore, your face was imprinted in his brain and the longer he thought of you, the filthier his brain envisioned you. Laid out beneath him with your mouth hanging open and your nails embedded in his shoulders. He let out a shaky breath, groin twitching with excitement. He clenched his jaw before moving to the shower. The hot water instantly met his body, droplets sticking to his body and hair the second that he was beneath the jet. You were impossible to not think about and the longer he thought, the harder he grew.

The hour drive was cut in half. Traffic had been gone completely. The festival on the other side of town had drawn in all the people. It’s festive lights and carnival rides had been enough to lure in majority of the city. No stoplights to delay you. No jams. No road work. You arrived in 30 minutes and your heart was beating against your chest rapidly.

The hotel was nice. The lighting inside was almost overpowering and the scent smelled like chlorine. Your legs shook anxiously as you moved toward the front desk. Setting your elbows on the surface, you smiled shyly.

“Hello,” The quietness of your voice immediately grabbed the attention of the man running the lobby. His green eyes lifted to you, brows lifting in question as he waited for you to speak further. “I’m here to surprise my boyfriend. Eddie Brock.. I didn’t know if you’d be able to give me his number so I can just go up to the room and surprise him or, do I have to call him and get permission.” The fellow behind the desk moved his gaze along your features. It was against protocol to just give up a customer’s information and room number, but he was relatively new and since you’d had the guests name.. that meant he could just let you go up, didn’t it? He looked to the computer that sat to his right and without hesitation, he typed in eddies name. It was the easiest thing to do in the world, you could done it yourself. He extended his arm, keycard in hand, and gave it to you.

“Fifth floor. Room 512.” You pinched the room key with a wide grin and a thankful flutter of your eyes.

“Thank you so much- I’ll return it by morning!” He could see as you spun around on your feel with the overstuffed backpack on your arm, that you were really excited to see this ‘eddie’. He wasn’t worried about getting in trouble, he sensed you weren’t lying about being the man’s girlfriend. And if you were, well you were a terrific actress.

The elevator doors pinged open loudly as your thumb pressed against the up arrow and when you stepped inside, they thudded closed without warning. The cold wall pressed against your back as you slouched. Two mirrors bordered the walls on either side of you, it would’ve been the perfect moment to check yourself and ensure you looked somewhat presentable but you were too excited to just get to the hotel room. Rotating the key repeatedly in your hand, you swayed lazily, waiting impatiently for the doors to slide open. They did, after what felt like ages. The purple, spiral-patterned rug made little scuffling sounds beneath your feet. The numbers on the wall told you which room wasn’t your boyfriend’s and when you got to the end of the hall, your throat grew tight. A scratchy sensation formed in your esophagus, one that made you lift your shaky palm to your flesh and cradle it. The nerves in your stomach were stupid — this was Eddie. Why did you suddenly feel so out of place? Swallowing the feeling of uncertainty down, you stuck the thin key card into the slot and watched as the unlit light above the card insert turned green. The latch unlocked and the handle turned with the gentle movement of your hand. Opening the door, your twinkling eyes ran along the interior of the room.

The shower could be heard, water droplets angrily beating against the tile wall and your boyfriend’s skin as he washed away the stress of the day. You licked your lips and made your way inside as silently as you could. Your keys, the key to the room, your purse, and your phone found their place on the table beside the door and after you twisted the lock and kicked off your shoes, you made your way toward the bathroom. Beneath the door, a glow of light could be seen and when you noiselessly opened the door, the steam inside almost blinded you. The mirror was blurry, completely destroyed by the fog in the room. You could barely see a thing. Eddie was absolutely milking this since he didn’t have to pay for hot water and he was taking his time.

What could a man be doing for this long in the shower? The silent question was met with a verbal response.

A very quiet whimper, one that sounded trapped and breathless filled the room. It was followed by a groan of relief, one of appreciation. Your ears twitched, straining to hear more of the sounds that you were only use to hearing when he was pinned beneath you or covering you like a blanket. His silhouette could be seen on the bathroom door. His outline was visible, and although it was foggy and unclear, you could make out — for the most part — what he was doing. From the side, you could see that he had one hand extended out in front of him, no doubt pressed against the wall to steady himself as his other hand worked on drawing more noises from his lips. A groan. A grunt. A swear. His palm massaged his shaft, fingers assisting him in his task by tracing his cock. You let out a shaky exhale, mouth falling open to announce your presence but he beat you to it.

“Y/N.” He hissed out, a desperate plea. You’d at first thought you’d been caught, but when he tipped his head back and slunk his hips forward and toward his hand, you realized he was simply thinking of you. A little bubble of pride filled your chest. This was quite the ego boost. Temptation pushed you toward the shower and guided your hands to the buttons on your blouse. Undress. Join him. Finish him off, help him out. Eddie needed you.

Lost in your thoughts, it was only when the cold in the room — despite the steamy atmosphere — tickled your skin and tugged on your nipples that you realized you were naked. Your clothes were a pile on the floor, thrown down and forgotten. Goosebumps covered your skin, noticeable beneath your palms as you poorly attempted to rub some heat into your flesh. You approached the shower. One, dont give him a heart attack. But two, surprise him. Your hand wrapped around the handle, ready to tug it open. Your goal would be hard to accomplish seeing as it was a bit contradicting, but without much further common sense, you yanked it open and revealed the man. No more foggy glass to prevent you from seeing the beautiful sight. Eddie Brock was touching himself, and touching himself to the thought of you.

Eddie was red. Bright red. And the need to sputter our excuses and explanations was strong. His cock was hard and pulsing from it’s painful throbbing. Pre-cum escaped the tip, a plea for him to drag himself to release. Eddie looked guilty. Like he’d been caught by his mother instead of his lover.

“I-it’s not what it looks like..” Apparently seeing your girlfriend after days and being caught masterbating by her wasn’t the most romantic. “Or.. okay.. maybe it is.” He set his hand on the back of his neck before moving his fingers up to his hair. He scratched the messy tresses in distraction. He was looking for a way out of this situation. And you weren’t going to give him one.

“My poor, poor, baby.” You laid your hand on the cool glass and stepped forward. “You couldn’t wait to be back home?” You asked, brows lifting the second that you stepped toward him. The hot water hit your arm as you made your way into the hot space. Tsking playfully, you set your hand on his belly. “And what a greeting you’ve given me.” Eddies eyes moved from yours to your lips, watching the way your tongue flopped around inside your pretty mouth as you spoke to him. He cleared his throat quietly before biting on his bottom lip. He should’ve said your name. He should’ve explained how excited he was to see you, but instead he’d acted like a 13 year old who should’ve have been rubbing himself so selfishly. You smirked slowly. You rather liked that he was.

“What are you doing here?” He whispered. The water droplets clung to his nose and eyelashes as he stood in front of you.

“I came to surprise you..” You whispered, fingernail lazily tracing his stomach. “that’s alright, isn’t it?” Eddie nodded.

“More than alright.” His palm lifted to your cheek, fingers lazily tracing your skin as it grew wetter and wetter beneath the faucet. He smiled before dragging you toward him for a soft kiss. You spoke against his lips.

“I couldn’t stay away from you.” You mumbled out against his full mouth. “I missed you too much.. and I see,” You drew back and looked south. “It looks like you missed me too.” He would’ve complained about the lack of privacy, but he didn’t mind at all that he’d been caught. It was only by you and you’d seen him naked enough times. He was rather shy about being caught doing something so private, but the second your hand moved to trace his shaft, he couldn’t focus on that sliver of discomfort. It vanished. “Let me help you, baby.” Your mouth pressed against his jaw, a very tender, soft, sweet motion, but the second you started to kiss him and also massage his cock, he lost all control.

His hand found your hip and in one swift movement, he twisted you around and pressed you against the tile. It was cold against your back and rear, but his chest, molded so tightly against your own, was keeping you warm. One leg lifted, thigh hooking around his hip, as your lips interlocked. This was a battle to convince one another that you’d missed each other more. His tongue swiped over your own, so desperate to win, but you had the upper hand, rubbing and squeezing and massaging the hell out of his dick. He was in heaven. And even more so when he felt you wiggling to angle your hips so you could guide his aching member into you. His eyes clenched shut. He’d just been daydreaming about this and now, here you were, surprising him just so you could make sweet love to him. He smirked into the kiss.

“I love you.” You both spoke out, a simultaneous confession spoke at the time that he slid into you. Your head was tipped back, pressed against the wall, and his was tipped forward, nose bumping your own and then moving to your cheek. A burst of giggles left your lips and a harsh chuckle left his. Both of you felt so giddy to be reunited and neither of you were going to part anytime soon. Eddie reached around you to shut off the shower and without any sort of intention of separating, he lifted you and carried you toward the bedroom.

The city outside would no doubt be blessed with the sight of Eddie Brock’s bare, wet ass as he passed by the window that overlooked the world below, if anyone were to look up at the hotel window. You clutched on to him like a needy child, so desperate for some love and affection. Lucky for you, he was more than willing to oblige. Afterall, a few days felt like a lifetime when it meant you couldn’t see your other half.

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