#these two were SO hard to colour-pick from but i really like how they came out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kenlvry · 2 years

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LISTEN TO ME RN HEAT ME TF OUT STANS GANG + CRAIG DOIGN THE LIPSTICK TREND FROM TICTOK WITH READER

the lipstick trend with stan and craigs team

an, I AM LISTENLING ANON DONT WORRY. no idea what you mean by heat out though 🤨 , 17-18 and gn reader but use of her in tolkiens

kenny

he was the one who suggested it, it came across his fyp one day and he sent it to you "lets do this come over rn." "you asked, why dont you come to my house? 🤨" "why don't i cum in your mom" "HUH 😧" "im here."

you both definitely argue on what lipstick you should wear "okay but i don't even use pink lipstick" "well you should" "its light colour its not gonna appear" "well fuck 😒"

the process of kissing his face is wild, he would suggest to do his lips as the first place "KENNY HOW ARE WE GONNA DO THIS TREND IF YOU KEEP TRYING TO MAKE OUT WITH ME" "ITS NOT MY FAULT"

after like2 hours you finally get the lipstick on his face. now the tiktok was even harder he wouldn't stop laughing. you'd give up and he apologises while laughing

thank god you guys were able to finish it under 1 hour it turned out really good, at the end of the video he kissed you and you wanted to cut that part but he said keep it for like and its true the comments were all about the kiss on the last clip

kyle

okay he too wanted to ask you first but he was kinda shy and waited for you to ask and you did!! woohoo for kyle

"kyle wanna do this" "OKAY" he insists on picking your lipstick and picks the ugliest colour like what 😐

to him there was no such thing as an ugly colour buy it didn't suit your face so no way.

the process of it was calm, he at first wanted to put on the lipstick for you but you looked like a clown has mans never put on lipstick??

he watches you as you kiss him and reapply lipstick and then kiss him again, he feels like a princess fr 🤭🤭

he hasn't seen his face yet so when you record and he saw his face he laughs out loud, "LMAO WHY DO I LIKE THAT??" "WDYM"

you would tell him to take off his hat which he refuses but you looked too cute, when it posted cartman was first to comment and you can already tell what he commented "ew gay" your followers defended you two though 🤭

stan

stan blushes internally when you ask him. "sure im down" DEEP DOWN HE WANTS KIDNAP YOY AND KEEP YOU TO HIMSELF

"what lipstick do you think matches me best, pink or red?" "id say my tip colour" "WHAT 😧"

he has to hold in the very urge to puke every time you kiss him because like you look so cute omg.

he looks in the mirror and is js like "damn, i did it". HE LOVES IT SOOOO MUCH YOU CAN TELL HE'S BLUSHING ONGG ‼️

he even directs you like "do here next, okay now here" its so cute 🤭🤭

when you record and the camera pans to him, he smiles and covers his face blushing bc he can't contain it. it was such a cute video and got iver 2 mil likes. cartman definitely commented "i bet you had to change your clothes 10 times"

cartman

"cartman lets do this" "what." "wdym? cmon its cute" "y/n no offense but that is the most gayest shit i've ever seen" " NO ITS NOT UTS CUTE" "my reputation is at stake if i do that be so for real" "okay I'm asking kyle then" "lets do it."

he actually been wanting to ask you for weeks now but doesn't know how so winwin. you take your absolute time picking your lipstick and he couldn't be more done with "hurry up this doesn't even effect anything" "shut up cartman if i use the right one people will ask what lipstick it is and i get views"

picking a lipstick was already a big deal just imagine the process "ew gay not on my lips" "cartman 😐" tbh he wish he could just make out with you rn but yk how mans is

now recording is even more a hassle "JUST SMILE IS IT SO HARD TO CRACK A SMILE" "NOT WHILE IM LOOKING LIKE THIS" the most he does is wipes your lipstick off and then he just gives a 🙄 look until the end of the video

the comments are just him getting teased at clydes commenting "NAHHH CAN'T BELIEVE HE AGREED TO THIS" kyles is "i can tell that this took a long time" and then wendys is "is that cartman or a clone of him". cartman is pissed af at the comment, he told you his reputation is at stake 😒.

he actually has it saved downloaded and also is his live wallpaper sooo.

butters

butters is the one who asked you this " um y/n can we do this? 😣" while twiddling his fingers, "OKAY"

he's all giddy and smily during the process, after every kiss his blushes intensifies and by the end of it he is just.. 🔴

even though it is the most simplest video ever he has to have a tutorial, he is asking questions for everything man, how do i wipe the lipstick, what do i do, do i smile when its on me , do i laugh??

you tell him what he thinks he should he and he starts kissing you bc rn the sexual tension between you two is intense (to him atleast, he thinks thinks hand holding is already intense)

everyone comments on how cute he is and yk how tiktok is so people comment "does he whimper" "submissive who?" and hes likw WHATTTTT 🧍

clyde

when you suggested this he nodded so hard his head probably was about to fall off. "clyde you wanna do this" "DO I???" ..... "well.. do you?" "i mean yeah it's like a way of- yes i wanna do it"

he loves any lipstick you wear so he lets you pick. after every kiss he looks in the mirror and kicks his feet giggling and you just stand there 🤨

he also tries to make it a makeout session like kenny, when you kissed on his lips he holds your neck and literally makes out with like cnon we have 9 more

when you first hit record and yk how the guy has to wipe your lipstick off, nah he grabbed you by the chin and slams his lips with yours "WHY DIS YOU DO THAT??" "its called content,you wouldn't know with your 9 likes and 70 views"

well you kept the clip and everyone in the comments were talking about it "need a boyfriend like you y/n" "why can't my boyfriend be like this" clyde is obviously gloating bc he had the idea.

tolkien

most romantic man you know, is the first to ask you. "y/n can we do this?" "OKAY BOO 😝"

"hmm which lipstick do you think babe?" "i think every lipstick makes you pretty, it doesn't matter if it doesn't suit you because in my eyes you look beautiful in anything ☺️" "what if i wore kim kardashians 2013 met gala dress" "might have to rethink what i said"

he smiles while you kiss him here and there, every once a while he kisses you back, it was such a cute moment for you two😝🤞🤞

when recording he looks at you while smiling during the whole video and it blew up fast because of that

"the way he looks at her" "wishing he was like this" "you got the bag that man is inlove", it blew in seconds fr

craig

"craig lets do-" "okay" "i didnt even ask you yet" "I'll do anything if its with you" "what if i asked you to have a threesome" ".....if its makes you happy idk.."

idk about you but i think he acts like he doesn't care but inside he is so happy you asked he's been wanting to ask you this but doesn't know how to start up the convo

he doesn't care what lipstick or where you kiss him, its just the way you press your lips on him and look at it then quickly reapply to do it again because it wasn't pigmented enough.

when recorded, he doesn't just wipe he makes you turn to face him by grabbing your chin, and he doesn't let go and just looks at you with those yk siren eyes.

people are simping over him ong "damn girlie share for us" "you mean OUR boyfriend" "tryna find someone as hot as him" and you are pissed fr he laughs at you cursing out the people, like bae dw my eyes only fo you 😝🤞

tweek

"tweek, wanna do this?" "but what if I can't remove the lipstick stain" "tweek what dw i have makeup remover" "WHAT IF THAT DOESN'T WORK 🤯🤯" "TWEEK"

okay so the lipstick may turn out ugly bc of how shaky he is but ITS OKAY BC ITS TWEEK DUH, "a-are you sure you dont want to redo this?" "tweek its fine"

he insists on redoing it the 2nd try turns our worse because he's even more twitchy because of how close you are☺️☺️☺️

his face is just red because he keeps wiping it off with his hands so you can redo it and its obvious too

recording it was so funny because you can't stop laughing at the smudge lipsticks

when posted the comments were so cute but... uh questionable some were "the way the smudges are so obvious 😭😭❤️" or "wishing my future relationship will be like this 🤭" and some were just "tip colour when?? 😜"

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delirious-donna · 3 months

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Baby, I Would Die For You [Toji Fushiguro]

an: flirting with your boss is always dangerous but when you find that the feelings are reciprocated, it’s hard to resist the urge to give Toji everything.

pairing: Toji Fushiguro x female reader

warnings: boss/subordinate dynamic, flirting, lewd talk, pussy eating, reader is not a shy wallflower, biting and mark making, pussy drunk Toji, a little humour (I think)

Masterlist

What you were doing was wrong. It surely broke every HR policy you could think of, and you should stop, walk away before you crossed that final line that could never be taken back or undone. The problem was… you didn’t want to.

Toji Fushiguro might be your boss, but he was so much more than that to you. Seeing him as simply the man you reported directly to was impossible after months of not-so-subtle flirtations. Famed for his direct approach and no-nonsense attitude towards pretty much everything, others might be surprised by how coy he acted when the two of you were alone.

Those long hours picking over every little detail in the latest performance reports or going over his schedule for the upcoming week were times you looked forward to, perhaps even the highlight of your week if you were totally honest. The smile that rose to his lips when you shimmied into his office, closing the door with your hip as you balanced two coffees and your notepad and pen, was one that never failed to tighten all the muscles in your lower half.

With a thick head of midnight black hair that lay artistically messy and piercing green eyes that had a way of delving straight into your soul, you would be a fool not to find him attractive, but it wasn’t just that. His humour was wickedly sharp, so many times your sides had hurt from being folded over with laughter, sometimes at your own expense, but there was a kindness to him that piqued your interest.

Every morning, without fail, he would deposit your favourite caffeinated beverage on your desk even though that really should be your duty to bring to him, and he always asked how you were. It wasn’t a pleasantry either, he really wanted to know how you were and took interest in your life outside of the walls of the office. Never had you shared so much of yourself with a superior and you didn’t think you ever would again, not if it came with the swelling feelings that took root in your heart.

It didn’t help that he was possibly the most tactile man you had ever encountered, always finding the smallest reason to lay a hand on you and none of it you would consider inappropriate, or well, more inappropriate than it already was for a manager to touch his subordinate. His fingers grazed yours when you handed him files, he held doors open for you and the warmth of his palm would fit snugly at the small of your back. He would nudge your shoulder with his when you made him laugh in the lift, and he would hold out his hand expectantly anytime you got a fresh manicure, not happy until he had inspected the handiwork up close. “Nice colour. It’s better than the last set.”

Of course, those touches didn’t help with smothering the flame that had long since ignited. Oh no, they only stoked them with gentle care until what was once a fledgling match struck and sure to die as soon as the stick was engulfed, was now a roaring bonfire in the pit of your stomach. It turned you just that little bit more cautious, and you were sure he had noticed but he never called you on it.

You found yourself admiring the cut of his suits far more regularly, staring at the white expanse across his chest and back. His hands were their own source of fascination, how he always played with a pen between his fingers and the deliberate strokes he placed to the beads of condensation running down his favourite soda cans. How could you not wonder what they might feel like on your bare skin, on the sensitive inside of your thighs, cupping your sex or playing with your breasts?

So many nights were spent alone in your tiny apartment, a toy pressed to your aching clit and your eyes screwed shut as you imagined the buzz being replaced by a hungry mouth with a sharp tongue and magnetic green eyes. That scar on his lip pulled taut at every flick delivered to your sticky folds, and his large palms full of the meat of your ass. The ghost of wet slurps filled your ears until the band of tension that had been growing all day long snapped clean in two and you came with a shout of his name, only to be brought back down to Earth with a bump. He wasn’t with you; you weren’t wetting up his ruggedly handsome face and he would never know that you wanted that more than anything.

That was, until one evening where your flirtatious bantering finally came to a head…

It was well past clocking off time, and you were still at your desk finalising some last-minute spreadsheets that found their way into your hands way too late on a Friday afternoon when you heard a rumbling call from the office at your back.

“What you still doing here?” Toji’s voice rang out to the near-empty office, your finger hovering over the mouse poised to shut down and finally head out. Instead of yelling back, you stood and made the two-minute journey into the corner office.

“I was just leaving, but I could ask the same of you, Mr Fushiguro.”

The sleeves of his white button-up were rolled to his elbows, the sinewy strength of his forearms on display and distracting you from the attempt at an intimidating look in his direction. You swallowed, cursing the abundance of runny saliva coating the inside of your mouth.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Got nowhere better to be, but you on the other hand… don’t you got a date or something?” Toji let his cheek rest atop his fist, drinking in the sight of you after a long day.

Your outfit was just the tiniest bit ruffled, blouse untucked in one place that you unlikely hadn’t noticed, and your hair had more than a strand or two out of place from all the times you had taken it down only to pull it back up moments later. The lipstick from earlier that day had long faded, but it only made your lips look all the more kissable, naked and in need of his slanted over yours.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no,” you asserted with a roll of your eyes, arms folding over your chest in a defensive gesture that wasn’t lost on either of you.

Toji’s eyebrow lifted, and he beckoned you closer with a careful flick of his wrist until your legs shook, closing the distance until you were by the side of his desk looking down at him. His stance was spread wide, not a damn care in the world and you nervously glanced towards the door which stood wide open.

An expansive hand roughened in a way you wouldn’t expect of a man who slaved away behind a desk, wrapped around your arm to pull it free from the way you had it hugged around your middle. It felt like a crackle of pure electricity when his fingers encircled your wrist, thumb delicately placed over the thumping pulse. There was air trapped in your throat, bubbling up but refusing to escape past your lips whilst the man you teasingly called ‘boss man’ manoeuvred you to sit on his desk, shining forest green eyes searching your face carefully.

“Pretty little thing like you and you don’t have a date? That can’t be right.”

His inky black hair looked so soft and relaxed given how late the hour was. His tanned skin seemed so intriguing under the low lighting emanating from the lone desk lamp flared to life, like you might find hidden secrets if you were to go peeking beneath the crisp cut of his shirt. There was a dusting of stubble gracing his cheeks and jaw, the sharp contour highlighting the masculine aura that swirled around him without effort, and it affected you more than you admitted to yourself. Your thoughts became a jumble, entirely wayward as you wondered how that sharp scratchy stubble would feel against your thighs.

He wasn’t stupid, of that you should know by now, and your micro-expressions and breathy pants were more than ample evidence of the direction of your mind. Toji’s head canted further to this side, knowing what you wanted and wondering if he would have to voice them for you. His eyes fell to your hand, watching it slowly curl inward and then back out with little crescent moon indentations appearing on your palm. His mouth sloped open, ready to help you cross this final line at long last, but before he could, you surprised him.

“Why would I be interested in anyone other than the man sitting before me?”

Immediately, you gasped. Your brain caught up with the words that poured instinctually from your body, and dare he say… heart, with a sharp intake of breath. He could feel the heat rising from you, spreading outward in search of dry kindling to expand the fury of the inferno, but Toji was already aflame. He needed no encouragement to be consumed by the fire, he simply masked it far more adeptly than you.

His cock thickened further against his thigh, the ache settling into the depths of his stomach and for once, he wouldn’t have to wait to relieve it by hand alone. For weeks he had found that his mind pinged back to you with worrying regularity, especially when he found the need to fist himself in the shower before the working day began. Long had he wondered if you would bite just as much as you did when he challenged you professionally. He wanted to know if you would give as good as you got because Lord knows he needed that.

Gone were the days when he found the simpering doll eyes of painted young beauties more than a passing attraction. No more could he find it within him to chase after those who would roll over immediately for the dark flame that resided within his heart. There was no thrill in complete subservience. He could only wet his dick so many times to women that he shared no interests with, where there was no witty repertoire or conversation deeper than a puddle already drying after a rainstorm.

You stood up to him when his mood darkened and others scurried away as fast as their legs would carry them, refusing to be a chew toy for his frustrations. You worked in the same manner he did, head down with complete diligence until the task was completed, but always to kick back when all the i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed. Work hard, play harder.

Not only that, but you were receptive to his touch, drawn to it like magnetised water. Whether you were aware or not, your spine would arch subtly when his palm filled the space at your lower back, and your pupils dilated when his fingers skimmed yours in exchange of hot drinks or paperwork. He wanted to know, once and for all if they would dilate even further when he reached between your thighs to pet the pretty pussy he knew resided there, if you would lose the sharpness of your gaze or whether you would become even more calculating when he thumbed at your clit. His money was on the former, though he wasn’t known for making good bets.

“So, what you’re saying is… you want me,” he conceded with a jerk of his wrist to bring you stumbling down onto his spread lap, the weight of you settling perfectly over his thighs. “I’m flattered, but I can’t deny that you’ve got good taste.”

His voice mellowed, a hint of humour in the words but one daring look at his face told you everything you needed to know. This was no game, it was no laughing matter and if you wanted to escape, this would be your last chance. Toji was baiting you, and he should realise by now that you never backed away from a challenge, and certainly not when your nightly desires were being served up on a silver platter.

Bracing both palms on his shoulders, you moved into a more comfortable position, which meant you were straddled over his lap and that did not go unnoticed.

“Like you haven’t thought about this, Mr Fushiguro,” you chided with a squeeze of your knees at his hips. “I bet you’ve spent a time or two imagining what it would be like to bend me right over this very desk.”

“Little fucking minx… you’re speaking to your boss, y’know?”

Despite his comment, his hands passed agonisingly slowly down your sides, mapping out the contours of your frame as your waist pinched in only to flare at the swell of generous hips. He throbbed from the knowledge he was gaining, intent on putting it to good use.

“I’m well aware, boss man.”

Toji chuckled at the long-standing nickname, a frisson on delight travelling down his spine at the new intonation behind it. Leaning back in his chair, you followed him, your face inches from his and sweeping over his features with interest. You couldn’t help but reach out, fingertips skimming the jagged scar bisecting the side of his mouth. He didn’t move, didn’t try to stop you, only focused on your eyes whilst you touched the raised skin. Maybe one day he’d share its origin, but for now he was content to let you dream up your own stories for how he acquired it.

Your gaze bounced between his eyes. “Kiss me.”

His large palm gripped at the back of your neck, eliminating the remaining distance until his lips met yours—finally. It was surprisingly soft, his hold determined but gentle and there was none of the rough urgency you had expected. You melted against his chest, the playful resistance ebbing out of your bones and turning you pliant into his mammoth hold. His whole upper torso dwarfed you, making you feel small for the first time in a world where you usually didn’t.

There was coffee on his tongue, the bitter edge of the roasted beans softened by vanilla and a hint of chocolate, coaxing you to take more and more until you were satisfied, and everything was not how you expected, but in the best way possible. There was no pawing at your clothes, no impenetrable grip on your skin and absolutely no sense that he wanted to stop or change the pace.

It was you who drove it harder, you who pushed against his chest and dove your fingers through his hair. His thumb stroked over the pulse in your neck from the hold he maintained, smiling against your open mouth and tasting your moans on his tongue. He’d stay like this a while if you’d let him, but there was an itch to be scratched and he’d be damned if he was going to let it go unaddressed.

“Come ‘ere, darling, I know what you need,” he rumbled between little nudges of his nose along your cheekbone until you glanced at him with those spectacularly expressive eyes, desire not even thinly veiled any more.

You found yourself spread like a feast on his desk, the clutter swept to the floor like you had seen play out in so many movies and never believed it happened in real life. Toji towered over you, clever fingers working to divest you of your blouse without jerking the sides clean apart and scattering the buttons across the floor. Your legs wound around his lean waist; skirt hiked up well above your hips and you were shameless in pressing your clothed pussy against the hard ridge of his erection.

“Mr—”

“Toji,” he corrected. An unyielding finger and thumb captured your chin until you conceded with a nod.

“Toji… I need you.”

“Where do you need me, sweetheart?” He knew exactly where you needed him, but where was the fun in giving in so readily? You were strong-willed and perhaps just as stubborn as he was, it would be nice to see how much ground you were willing to concede.

His lips skimmed your neck, traversed the expanse of your collarbone and down to the perfect spill of your breasts restrained by the flimsy gauze of your bra. You arched beautifully when his tongue grazed over the lace cup, nipple quickly peaking to be captured between his lips. You hadn’t yet answered his question and he bared his teeth, careful but deliberately biting at you through the thin barrier until you howled and snapped your head down.

“Asked you a question, need an answer. You know how this shit works.”

“Lower!” You huffed through your nose, panting at the delicious tug of his teeth and lips on your breast and wishing he’d do something about the bra. “I need you lower.”

Toji tsked. Moving a hand around your back, he unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor along with your blouse. He met you with glimmering eyes, a path of wet kisses decorating your skin until he stopped at your midriff. His tongue dipped into your navel, swirling around and around with sick satisfaction quirking his lips. Your stomach quivered from the action, jaw slack at something you had never experienced or expected.

“Here?” He asked absently, sucking little bruises into the soft rolls that begged for his attention. Salt, soap and the faint remnants of perfume crept over his tastebuds, his antics at teasing you somewhat backfiring when he became intent on creating an image of his own on your stomach.

“No,” you bit out. The worst of your ire melted away at the vision of the hulking man looming over your midsection, his eyes at half-mast and a satisfied grin each time his mouth left your skin long enough to witness. “Please…”

Toji groaned at the hissed “please” you delivered through gritted teeth, your small fingers threaded through the tufts of his hair and offered a yank that might see a lesser man whimper like a pup, but you’d have to try harder than that if that was your goal.

Massaging at your ample hips, he let himself sit once more and rolled the chair back, so his face was now level with the heat of your cunt. The seat of your underwear was soiled with arousal, the wet spot seemingly growing beneath his study. From this angle you couldn’t see his face, you had no way of knowing that he was committing this scene to memory and adjusting the troublesome trouser snake to be free of distractions for now.

“Impatient as always. How many times have you taken the stairs ‘cause you couldn’t bear waiting for the lift to arrive any longer?”

You baulked; caught in a moment of pure disbelief as he asked you the seemingly innocent question whilst tracing the outline of your labia through the cotton of your underwear. He hummed, smug in the knowledge he had made you speechless for the first time in months and determined to continue his winning streak. Leaning in, he inhaled the scent of you and let out a perverted exhale.

“Fuck… yeah. I knew you’d smell like a whole fucking meal,” he breathed against the inside of your thigh. The points of sharp teeth bit with delicate care, the plush flesh trembling beneath the imprints of what would become his unique markings.

Your upper arms shook from raising yourself up, determined that you watch his every action for as long as you could. Toji rummaged in the desk drawer, searching blindly as he huffed in your dewy scent with his nose pressed to your cunt. Without warning, the flash of a blade caught your eye, and you shrieked as he held it under one side of your panties, slicing through it before repeating the action on the other side.

“Are you insane? You’ve got a fucking weapon in the office?”

You failed to mention how wet you were, how tightly you were clenching around nothing and wanting to feel him buried deep in your belly. He gave a bark of laughter, lifting his hand with the offending item without so much as raising his head. He wasn’t buying your act one little bit, his nose brushing over the smattering of damp curls.

“Oh.” You blinked at the letter opener held between two fingers, the blaze of your self-righteousness smothered immediately.

Toji spread you open, peeling you apart like the petals of a flower to reveal the aching little bud at its core. He thumbed at it once, pressing the thick digit into his mouth and bringing it back dripping in spittle. This time, his tongue played along your folds, sucking the skin between his lips and driving tight circles around your erect little button. His nostrils flared at being buried in your essence, your thighs quaking on either side of his head and he palmed at the meat of your ass with his free hand—desperate for more.

Whilst the urge to pull his cock free from his trousers was burning white-hot, he shook off the weight of his own relief in favour of ensuring yours. If you weren’t squealing his name to the ceiling, he wouldn’t be satisfied anyway, and wasn’t that the whole point of this? You asked for what you wanted when you wanted it and with how you were rolling your hips dangerously close to the edge of the desk, you had no qualms about being as direct as he craved.

He massaged the ring of muscles at your entrance, dipping a finger deeper only to extract it again quickly. Your hole puckered and gaped, wanting more and he repeated the action but with two fingers this time. It was a squeeze when his knuckles brushed your walls, the velvet sides gripping and holding him hostage.

“Look atchu. Pussy got a grip on her.”

“Toji—mouth… want it on me. Want more,” you said with a broken whimper.

His head fell back against his neck, cracking from side to side before he rose to lay over you, his fingers still pumping in and out of your cunt to the wet squelch of your slick on his skin. You could only blink as he captured your lips, tongue curling over your teeth to deposit the taste of yourself into your mouth. It was entirely teeth and tongue as he worked you harder, thumb poised to flick over your clit each time you tried to fight for the right to inhale lungfuls of the thick air.

“—hng… not—fuck—not what I meant!”

Toji sat with a loud creak of his chair, his not-so-insignificant weight groaning the leather and metal to within an inch of its life. His smile was pure predator, the ink of his pupils almost eating up the entirety of his irises.

He huffed a dry laugh. “Yeah, but I like fucking with you.”

He didn’t wait for your reply, diving for your cunt and the tendrils of heat luring him in like a siren calling to a lost sailor. His nose nudged at your hood, giving him ample space to graze the flat of his tongue over the surface and alternating to a pointed tip that poked and pressed it in each direction. The puffy, swollen lips of your labia demanded attention too, nipping with his eyes focused on your breathing and every bodily jerk for discomfort. When he found none, only the arch of your spine and a hand finding its way back into his hair, he doubled down until you were mewling beneath him.

Your thighs tightened around his ears, their plushness muffling your lewd moans but only heightening the noises coming from his strong chest. He grunted like an animal at every fuck of his fingers, every lap of his tongue, emboldened by the reactions you so openly displayed. With a lewd pop, his fingers escaped your tight pussy to be replaced with his mouth. The second you rutted your cunt against his eager tongue, he was done.

Never before had he been this close to busting in his trousers, especially without help, but the way you humped against his face brought out a younger, less controlled version of himself. A shiver coursed up his spine as you fucked yourself on his strong, wet muscle, chants of his name falling from your sinful little mouth. He could feel the tension in your limbs, the curl of your toes against his shoulders and the bough broke with one carefully aimed suck of your clit.

The rush of adrenaline tore through you, mixed with dopamine and every reminder that this was completely wrong. You pinched at your nipples in turn, prolonging the first cresting wave as it broke over you. You felt limp, out of control and so fucking good you were certain you wouldn’t sleep for a week until this high wore off. Toji was a drug and you never wanted to be clean. His mouth slurped and guzzled, swallowing you down and it felt like if he could unhinge his jaw and devour you whole, he would.

With a whine and a wince, you managed to shove against his heavy mass and buy yourself a reprieve. He looked as drunk as you felt, sluggish and kiss swollen as he brought his chin to rest against your lower abdomen. You wanted to ask for him to fuck you now; to flip you over and press you into the wood so he could fill your belly with all that he had taken and more, but he reached those sticky fingers up and tapped your lips before you could speak.

“I haven’t spilled in my shorts since I was a teenager, shit…” He chuckled, admiring your tongue wrapped around the calloused edges of his fingers and cleaning him so efficiently, the perfect little worker bee that you were.

“Guess I’m out of luck for a fuck, huh?”

“Not here. I want your juices staining my sheets, not my paperwork,” he countered, kissing your stomach once more. His soft green bedroom eyes fixed raptly on your sweet face.

“Sounds reasonable, Mr Fushiguro. We shouldn’t push our luck anyway. I’m surprised security didn’t catch us in the act!”

Toji laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “You’re right, sweetheart, but the cleaner has been past twice.”

#delirious writes #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fushiguro x reader

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someonegoood · 6 months

Text

MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 3 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which after everything you gave, you're not sure if you're going to keep going. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst, some smut (not really explicit) & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: here's part 3 ! final part for my first two works, I'm proud of how it came out

taglist: @girlidekanymore @sunflower-tia @nicolesainz @chilwellspulisic @anotherfan07

inspired by taylor swift's songs.

The feeling of freshness —the wonderful smells, the damp feel of leaves falling down the trees, the breeze and the rain on your skin. The sound of rain is wonderful: not just between a hard roof and leaves, but you can hear it on different types of trees and hedges.

The flowers, which look like they were painted by Monet himself, have colours so rich that no one can even attempt to imitate them. From the smallest weed to the grandest stalk, they are all beautiful in your eyes.

Around you are your friends; some are talking or enjoying the countryside air. You had decided to take me on a little vacation before returning to the routine of the busy city of London.

No distractions, no disturbances, especially without him. After seeing how Mason smiled at that blonde standing next to him and Debbie's painful look in the boat, you knew all these years were in vain.

The moments when you took care of him after he vomited from all the alcohol he had consumed at the party, when you covered him so he could go on dates with different girls and other things you had done for him.

The last time Mason saw you still burned in the back of your mind, the little stolen glances he gave you while you were wearing a pink t-shirt, the one that you had left back in a drawer in the Mount's house. Stacey had told you the t-shirt drove him crazy.

It had been weeks, and you still couldn’t understand why nothing went your way. Was it you? Had you done something wrong? Had it been you that caused the gulf?

—Babes, how could you ever think it's your fault? Clearly, he is out of his mind. —Clara talked. You and your friends were sitting on the porch in the extensive field that belonged to your grandparents.

Then Adelaida, who was resting her head on your lap, suddenly stood up, leaning on one elbow and said: —Please don't think it's your fault, you would be lowering yourself to his level.

Everyone had been adamant that it wasn’t you... even your mother. But even with those words of affirmation, it didn’t change the internal feelings, the heartbreak that felt it was never-ending.

All you ever wanted was that connection, that string, that feeling that pulled you to another person, that proved he was the person meant to be for you. It was devastating to think back and know he wasn’t.

Even though you were angry at him, you knew that when you saw him you would act like a little girl, crazy in love.

On the other side, Mason was in the kitchen, picking at the leftover food on the tabletop as everyone else was in the living room. His mother walked into the kitchen as he took a bite of little meatballs that looked delicious and she laughed at the pieces of meat that had fallen onto the kitchen counter.

—That’s definitely not the way to eat —she smirked knowing his son wasn't the type of person to sit down and eat properly.

—But you love me anyways, mom. —Mason flashed his puppy eyes as his mum laughed at his actions. It had been a long year for Mason. He stopped turning to family events when he knew you would be there.

—Mason Tony Mount, I gave birth to you, I know you better than you know yourself-

—Mom. —Mason sighed. —Don't start this whole speech about her, please.

—Dear, I don’t even need to say her name... it will always be her. —She smiled, sadly, as she walked over to her son and placed a hand on his cheek.

—She's happy, from what I heard. —he scoffed again.

—So then you know you’re being an ass, right?

Mason's eyes widened at his mother's question but she just laughed and waved him off. —After all the years she spent after you, dear, it would be cruel for you to not let her be happy.

That sentence shattered his heart. You weren't the little girl who ran behind him in search of attention anymore, you were a woman with maturity, feelings and beauty.

—But what if I’m not happy? —he asked his mum. Debbie felt her heart clench at his words, it was never good for a mother when they saw their son being at his lowest.

—Do you love her?

There was no answer.

—See, that would be very cruel. Mase... either you love her or you’re jealous. Just remember that she's a second daughter to me and I know her like the palm of my hand. I'm certain that she’s fragile when it comes to you.

After a week in the countryside with your friends, you were back in the city, at a party the english players were throwing in celebration of their team winning the last few games.

Every time he looks at you, it’s making him go mad. It surprises him how much influence you have on his night out. He actually believed he could handle it, seeing you after a while. Normally he’s the one who takes you to the football after-parties because you begged him like crazy. But not this time.

Did you wear a white dress on purpose tonight? He doesn’t know. You look beautiful and he wishes he had the nerve to tell you how great white looks on you. He remembers the time you almost kiss in the box, you in the white sweatshirt with his number. The guy talking to you on your right was Foden. Did you wear it for him? He doesn’t believe that, he doesn’t think he deserves that.

Mason sighs. This is one of the hardest nights in his life. He shouldn’t have messed it up. If he didn’t follow what Ben said to him, he would probably be the one talking to you. Fucking Ben.

At the same time, you don’t know what’s bothering Mason. You thought he would be coming to the afterparty with Daphne, but his friends confirmed that he forgot her quickly. He didn't even kiss her. Neither touch her.

It surprised you, you were afraid he would show up with that beautiful model. A part of you felt really happy.

You feel his eyes burning into you while you talk to Foden. You quickly take the cocktail out of Phil's hands, while thanking him in the meantime. He shrugs it off.

—What’s up with you? —He asks you after you take a few sips.

—What do you mean? —You ask him. Is he noticing your bad mood? You tried hiding it, but maybe you failed.

—You seem distracted. Did something happen? —he goes on. You take a sip of your cocktail, thinking about your response. Could it be a bad plan to tell him about Mase? They’re friends after all. But on the other hand, it would be nice to talk about it to someone.

—It’s him, isn’t it? —Foden answers his own question. You didn’t even realize you were looking at Mason until Phil spoke. You nod towards him, —Let’s go outside.

Then, you're sitting on a wooden bench outside. The white dress doesn’t give you much warmth, so you embarrassingly start to shiver. Before you can notice it, Phil drapes his jacket around your shoulders.

—Fuck... —he says, regretting. —I knew it would be a bad plan to invite you. —Mutters softly, —I thought it was a good idea to make you feel better, now I just got Mount to get angry at you.

You laughed, thinking that was very cute. —That’s not true, Phil —you try to comfort him, —you can’t help me being an idiot.

—To be fair, Mason and you are both idiots. —Foden laughs, —Definitely unaware idiots-

But before he can explain to you anything, Mason shows up in front of you.

While walking back to his car, he notices the sound of people talking outside. He thinks he’s recognizing your voice. He must be going insane, he thinks tiredly to himself. But still, he walks towards the sound. Quickly seeing you and Phil sitting together... fucking hell, why are you wearing his jacket?

Before he realizes it himself, he stands before you and his teammate Foden. The chattering stops directly, did he interrupt something? He feels awkward with you and Phil looking at him amusingly. How can he fix this awful situation?

—I uh... I wanted to say bye to you. —Mason said, ignoring the existence of Phil. —I am supposed to bring you home or will Phil...?—He stutters eventually, not wanting to finish his question.

—Wait, Mase, can we talk? —You react before Mason turns around and walks to his car in a rush. He nods.

—Of course.

The silence was sharply awkward.

—Don’t forget your jacket, Foden —Mason quickly says, —she can wear mine while we’re outside.

Phil, who no longer was sitting on the bench, laughed for a bit at his hopeless friend. Then he walks up to you, and takes his own jacket from your shoulders, while Mason quickly takes off his. You give Phil a quick hug to thank him, before getting into Mason's jacket.

—Don’t be an idiot to her —says Phil toward Mason whispering in his ear. You smile shyly, flushing with Phil's comment.

Mason doesn’t know how to watch the interaction between his friend and you. He doesn't know where to look when you turn your attention to him. The white dress quickly grabs his attention once again.

Silently, both of you walk to the parking lot where his fancy Mercedes-AMG was parked. You had always made fun of him because the car was too posh in your opinion, although every time you needed a ride home you always ended up in his car.

Firstly he took the car keys out of his pocket and then he opened your door for you. He had always been a gentleman. The situation is unexpected, yet influenced by the tension that’s been built between you two through the last couple of months.

—So, what do you want to talk about? —Mason asks you. You lasted a few seconds thinking about how to answer his question.

—Why were you ignoring me today? Why didn’t you come up to me and Phil to say hi? —You fire multiple questions at him, —did I do something wrong? Are you upset with me? —Your words cut through the thick air inside the car.

—I thought the two of you were busy with each other. —Mason mutters.

You scoff, this was unbelievable. —That’s bullshit Mase, you know I always make time for you.

—God!, I just wasn’t in the mood to see you two. —He said, elevating his tone, trying to sound casual but deep down, jealousy was gnawing at him like a relentless beast.

You don’t know what to say to Mason. You don’t even know what the boy means. He wasn’t in the mood to see you? Since when could that happen?

—Why? —You barely dare to ask him. You have no choice, so you repeat your last question —why, Mase? —Your eyes start to fill with tears.

Mason sighs, —You won’t get it.

—You don’t know that. Try me.

—I just... I just don’t like seeing you with other boys —he confessed. You doubt for a bit. Should you tell him you were relieved he showed up alone instead of coming with Daphne? You decide not.

—Oh, come on Mason! You can't say that! —You almost shout. Mason's eyes open like plates. You had never raised your voice at him like that, so angry.

—Why not? —He, as well, says almost shouting.

—Because you don't have the right! It's-it's just that you can't say that as if my feelings were so simple... —You tried to calm yourself, you could lost everything now.

—Mason, I've been with you since the beginning and you know that. I'm your biggest supporter and deep inside you know I’ll always cheer for you. I’ve spent my whole girlhood- Fuck. —Tears start scrolling down your delicate face. He looks at you as if you were graceful.

—I wanted to be with you tonight, —you eventually say after a long silence—but you looked at me as if I didn’t matter.

—I know.

You sigh. Can't the boy say anything else? You feel obligated to talk further: —Why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong?

You don't get any answer. Looking at the ceiling of the car, you try to keep your cool.

—You know what? I’m going back to the party. Call me when you can explain at least something. —You want to undo yourself from Mason's warm jacket, but he stops you directly by grabbing your arm.

—I know you deserve to know what’s going on, but I don’t want to lose you. I know it’s a shitty excuse which makes everything even more unclear, but please don’t go back inside. —Mason talks soft and fast —and please keep the jacket on.

—What’s so important about the jacket? —You ask with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

—Your dress distracts me and I don’t want to see you in anyone else’s jacket again. —This time he is direct with his words. Almost harsh. You wonder why your dress distracts him. Does he find it ugly?

—Don’t you like the dress? —You ask.

—I fucking love the dress. —Mason says. At that moment you feel something clicking. Despite his short explanation, you wonder if Mason may return your feelings.

—Just give me time. Everything is happening so fast and the fact that I'm just realizing that all these years all I've been doing is hurting you makes me go mad angry at myself. —He says, without breathing. —And... I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry for everything I've done, for the countless times I've hurt you. I promise you will have a proper explanation. —He tried to smile, with tears in his eyes.

—That's the Mase I know... —You laugh lightly and Mason just stares at you, sweetly. —Now take me back home, probably my brother is already wasted.

What you didn't know is that that day Mason Mount started falling in love with you.

A few days after you were your house, sat in the cozy familiarity of the your couch while your mother flipped through the pages of a weathered photo album resting on her lap. Each turn of the page revealed a snapshot of your brother's and your past, a journey frozen in time.

—Look! You're wearing my glasses! —Said your mother, with clear emotion in her voice. She turned some pages that had photographs of your childhood: when you were born, your first tooth fell out and many more memories.

Your cheeks flushed with nostalgic warmth, a subtle testament to the innocence and joy captured in each photograph.

Among the sepia-toned memories and faded polaroids, there was a page filled with pictures where Mason and you, both still little children, intertwined in laughter playing in the park.

Your mom pinched your cheek. —Someday you will realize that everything you did was not in vain, on the contrary, it was all worth it. —She stopped to take a breath. —Because golden loves are like that. They stay with you forever.

—How beautiful, mom. —You ironized. She laughed.

—It will, darling... Come here. —And then you hugged her. You hugged her with all your might as you felt her warmth on your face. She giggled, breaking the embrace.

—You'll need a spell to make Mason realize what a fool he is.

—Mom!

A couple days later, you were back at Stamford Bridge once again. As you approach the stadium, you can feel the excitement building. The streets around the stadium eagerly anticipate the game ahead.

Inside the stadium, the dominant colour is blue. The stands are filled with supporters adorned in their team's jerseys, scarves, and signs that say "Pride of London".

—Call her Mason, I’m sure she's in the stands —said Ben, while putting on the new shirt they played in today. Mason held his cell phone, sitting on the bench in the large locker room.

Today was Valentine's Day and Mason had a game. Your brother told Mason he was going out on a date with his girlfriend but you would go in his place, as usual. He didn't know if you were coming, so Mason was nervous, especially with the talk you had in his car.

You had called Debbie in the morning, asking her if you should come to the game, and she told you that Mason would be more than happy to see you there. You wondered if he knew what you were up to if your brother had kept him in the loop.

Pick it up.

The third tone rang while Ben tried to hold Mason, about to faint from anxiety. In the background, music was blasting from the speakers while the guys on the team began gathering in the locker room for their last talk before the game started.

Reece James leaned closer, curious why his teammate was sitting with his phone in hand, bouncing his leg nervously.

—What has got Mount that nervous? I've never seen him like this —he says to Ben, seated next to Mason, fixing his shoes.

—It's his girlfriend-

—She's not my girlfriend! —Mason interrupted Chilwell, with an expression of fear. You still haven't answered him and the fact that his friends were bothering him added to his anxiety.

—Give me that shit. —Suddenly Kai Havertz appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Mason's phone and putting the call on speaker. Everyone's attention was on the tones ringing, hoping you'll pick up. The team had witnessed your situationship since Mason had joined Chelsea, so they knew you quite well.

—Hi? Mason?

Kai, standing on the bench in the centre of the room, had the phone in his hand so everyone could hear. His eyes widened and his mouth also opened, in surprise. Everyone stood up while Mason's blood pressure went down.

With a jump, Havertz handed the cell phone to his friend so he could answer you. There was a silence between your response and his because his teammates were signalling to him, guiding him in his response.

—Yes? —That was the only thing he could think of at that moment.

—You... you've just called me minutes before your game. Is everything okay? Do you need something? —For you, it was strange that Mason called you, especially right before his game. Mason's teammates melt with your response, you seemed like a worried girlfriend.

—N-no, I was calling to know if you're on Stamford Bridge. —He stuttered, nervous about your answer. You smiled a bit, already seated between the blue tide of fans.

—Of course! I wouldn't miss a game for anything Mase. —And that was the end of him. He said goodbye saying that he had to go out and play and hoped you liked the game, while all his friends were shouting acknowledging that probably by the end of the year, they would have a new addition on their team.

The match ended with Chelsea winning by two goals and the assistance of Mason. You couldn't be more proud of him and after the exhilarating victory at Stamford Bridge, you made your way to the cooldown room, where players and staff often gather to unwind after the match.

As you entered, you spotted Mason, the hero of the game with his crucial assist. A sense of pride swelled within you as you approached him. He was putting something in his backpack, distracted.

—Incredible game out there, —you said, startling Mason. He turned with a smile, recognizing your voice without seeing your face.

—Thanks, this means a lot to me... —Mason replied, his face beaming with satisfaction. You both exchanged a few more words about the match, sharing our favourite moments and the atmosphere at the stadium. Then, out of the blue, Mason's tone turned slightly more serious.

—You know... —he said, pausing for a moment. —I've been thinking. We've been through so much together, your support has meant a lot to me.

You nodded, feeling a sense of tenderness with him. Mason took a deep breath before continuing. —Listen, I was wondering if you'd like to grab dinner later. Just to say thanks for always being there, you know?

Surprised by the unexpected invitation, you couldn't help but smile. —I'd be honoured to join you. —You said, laughing out of nervousness.

A couple hours later, Mason kept his hand on your lower back as he led you through the restaurant, your body settled into his side. His hand slid around your waist while opening the door, a shiver already wracking your body. You gasped at the white snow starting to lay outside, thick flakes slowly falling from the sky.

—Look there! Mase, it's snowing! —You tugged a little on Mason's hand on your waist, the heat replacing the cold feeling on your fingers. There was already a pretty thick layer on the ground and you wondered briefly how long it had been snowing. —It's so pretty.

Mason watched your smile widen when he was paying the bill, as you tilted your head back, eyes squinting as the flakes cascaded down. He'd never seen anyone get so excited over snow.

You looked so good under the twinkling lights, the candle in the middle of the table illuminating half of your face. He was having an amazing time, already realizing he mad in love with you.

From the way you keep your hair in a messy ponytail to the way you are surprised by the snow. Everything about you was perfect for him.

—Do you want to go for a walk before I take you home? —He slid his hand over your jaw, his thumb stroking away the little flake on your cheek. You gave a small nod, flushed since all of this was new for you. He grinned before stepping back and holding his hand out to you.

—M'lady?

You looped your arm through his and the two of you started off down the street, his gaze darting between you and the falling snow. You snuggle as close as possible to him to steal some of his natural body heat.

Snow was falling and settling into Mason’s hair, individual flakes dropping onto his eyelashes and you were certain he’d never looked prettier.

—Remember the time I tried to sneak out and you caught me? That time I was actually grounded for fighting with my brother and I wanted to buy the new console game you were so interested in. —You said, recalling those silly things.

He didn't know if his cheeks were flushed pink from the cold or from what you'd just said.

—But that game was so expensive!

—I know! I just wanted to give you something for your birthday. That's why I didn't have any presents for you at your birthday party.

Mason caught your gaze, head cocking curiously at the sudden shy look that had taken over your features. You let your eyes wander from him to the snow-filled street around you. You slowed to a stop, right against the barriers of the little lake and you leant against it, the two of you facing each other, your hand still clasped in his.

All you wanted was to grab him and kiss him, you didn’t care who saw or if you got a cold, you just wanted to kiss him in the snow.

After a silence, he said: —You know I want you, right?

You looked at him. Surprised. Self-conscious Scared. But above all, in love.

—I've been thinking and I can't help falling for you now. I’m not jealous because you have other people in your life, I’m not a fucking kid. That time with Phil, at the party, made me realize that I want you with me... By my side. I want to be the one you say 'I love you' to, I want to be the one that cuddles you, that-

You interrupted him. —Mase, I… I don’t know how to say this… —Voice uncertain as you watched for his reaction, for any flicker of emotion that stated he didn't want that.

His face fell, and he retracted his hands from the barriers that before were trapping you between his body and the barriers. Ready for rejection, he looked into your eyes.

—I… I like you too. —You looked down, feigning sadness. When you looked up, he was squinting at you. —I don't know how are you convincing my brother you're good enough for me...

—I'd probably invite him to one of my games and we could go for dinner after the game? I'll book somewhere for us. —You matched his smile with a nod, shoulders relaxing slightly after the confession as you pulled your hand from his so you could settle your arms around his neck instead.

—Sounds amazing. Deep inside he's a West Ham fan, y'know. — Mason's face contorted a little when he bumped his nose against yours, lips lightly brushing together.

—Oh shut up, —he muttered into your lips, —let me kiss you.

And you obeyed, your hands resting nervously at his neck as he ravished you, his tongue begging for entrance. You allowed it, moaning into his lips as they intertwined perfectly. His hands travelled from your hair to your waist where he pushed you closer to him.

You indeed had waited your whole life for this.

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jasmines-library · 8 months

Note

This might be a weird request, but can you take your favorite song and make a batfam story with it? I saw the “Kristy, Are You Doing Okay?” fic and immediately folded I loved it so much <3 <3 <3

The Ghost of You.

YES YES YES! It's really hard for me to just pick one song, but this came to mind so i thought i'd give it a go. Also this probably wasn't what you were after anon, so i'm sorry. You're all going to hate me after this :(

Summary: After your death, the batfam struggle to navigate their lives without you.

Warnings: This fic deals with death (mildly graphic) and the aftermath, contains suicidal thoughts, grief, unhealthy ways of processing grief and some other heavy content so please be advised.

Word Count: 2k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

I never said I'd lie and wait forever

If I died, we'd be together

I can't always just forget her

But she could try

Tim was the first to arrive too late.

Your body had already careened over to the side, collapsing into a puddle of your own blood. Tim faltered as he made his way over to you, gawping at the arrows that protruded gruesomely from your stomach, your shoulder and the back of your knee. That was what had taken you down: a well placed shot to the back of the joint. The other two followed as insurance. To ensure that you would bleed out.

And even though Tim was right there, he faltered. Even though he could see the way your chest spluttered as you fought for air, he couldn’t bring himself to move. His hands shook. His lips trembled. And if anyone was focusing hard enough they would have been able to see the glint as water collected in his eyes.

Then came Jason, grappling down from the building. He had heard it before he saw it. Grimacing at the way your cry was followed by two more, he was gripped tight by a fit of rage. Mercilessly he took out the two crooks in front of him so he could dash to your side. He should have been helping Nightwing and Batman, but at that moment all he could focus on was your safety.

He managed to gather himself up enough to try and press around the arrows, but your blood pooled through the fabric of your suit and your breathing had slowed to nearly nothing. Tim had finally got himself to move and he was sure that he heard someone call your name. Though he couldn’t remember if it was himself or Jason. Either way he too pressed down harshly around the arrow to try and staunch the blood flow. And it should have hurt. God, you should have been thrashing and screaming. But you just lay there, spluttering as you faded. Tim didn’t know what was worse; but he came to the conclusion that the sound of your agonised scream was better than waiting in this near listless silence.

“Just hold on, Raven.” Jason. But you would have never guessed it from the way his normally firm voice wavered. “We’re going to get you to help…j-just a little longer.

Then you moved. Your hands shifted to lay atop of theirs and you strained your head to see them. Tim’s stomach dropped as you looked at him with your hooded eyes and small smile. A gesture of consolidation. You were trying to tell them that it was okay. It made Tim want to hurl. How could you be thinking of them in a time like this?

“Y/N..?” Tim muttered. He should have used your vigilante name. He didn’t care.

“s’okay” you slurred as your eyes fluttered at him. You could no longer make out much as your vision became a blur of colour. Jason palled at the sight of the crimson that stained your teeth as a sickening contrast to the paleness of your skin. He wanted to look anywhere else, like to Dick and Damian who were still trying to take down the criminals who just wouldn’t quit, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of your face.

“S’gonna b-be ok..”

“No…” Tim was crying now. They both were. Neither made any effort to try and hide it.

“P-promise you won’t do…any’thn stupid-” you mumbled.

Tim brushed his thumb over your hand. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to but he would. For you. “I promise…”

You wanted to turn your attention to Jason, but your eyes fluttered and you could feel your strength fading.

“ Love you…” Then, your chest rose… and fell as you took your final breath.

At the end of the world or the last thing I see

You are never coming home, never coming home

Could I? Should I?

And all the things that you never ever told me

And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me

The manor was silent. Deathly silent.

And even though the manor was the busiest it had been for a while it still seemed so empty. It was almost like the minute that your heart stopped pumping, so did all of the life in the manor.

Dick hardly slept. He spent his nights staring blankly at the ceiling, letting his thoughts carry him away because if he didn’t his mind would torture him with pictures of you. He had thought about it. He had thought about it a lot actually. Especially after he had seen your body being lowered into the ground sealing you into nothingness. You were gone.

Dick remembered Jason and Tim uttering something about promising not to do anything stupid. But he wasn’t sure. They didn’t talk much anymore. He thinks he remembered them saying that they had promised you. But he hadn’t. And so the thought crossed his mind often. If he was only brave enough to do it. Oh, what he would jive to see even just a ghost of one of your charismatic grins again. Or to hear your laughter as you sang to your music poorly in your room across the hall. You often used to keep the door open, just a crack as a form of comfort blanket and that let your voice carry through the hall. But now the door was firmly closed.

Pull yourself together. Dick blinked away the film that formed in his eyes. Though no tears fell; he had cried himself dry a long time ago. You wouldn’t want this. Dick had tried to tell himself. But it seemed everything he did reminded him of you. Reminded him how he was never going to see you again. And it hurt. You were still so young. You had your entire life ahead of you to live and Dick yeared to have seen it. But it was ripped away from you cruelly like candy from a child.

Ever get the feeling that you're never all alone?

And I remember now

Your bloodstained face was burned permanently into Tim’s mind. It was there every time his eyes drifted closed.

Each time he finally got himself to sleep, there you were. Crying out his name.

He should have been quicker. Tim scolded himself often for this. He thought that his fumble could have been the difference between you living and dying. But of course, he had frozen. His body had refused to function no matter how much his brain screamed at him to just move! But he was frozen. He remembered watching fearfully as Jason, who was much further away, dropped to his feet from above and tried feebly to help. If only he had been just that little bit quicker. If only he had been paying attention then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place.

He was sitting in the batcave, staring blankly at the monitors. Not because he wanted to but because someone had to. Though him being there wouldn’t have made much difference. All of the shapes on the screen had blurred into one colour.

Tim had never felt more lonely sitting in the plush chair because usually you would be there with him. Cracking a joke or two, or reminding him he needed to go to sleep with a gentle touch on the shoulder or his hand. Sometimes Tim thought he could still feel it. A phantom pain: like when someone loses a limb.

You had become such an important part of his daily life that his body yeared for your touch or the sound of your voice. He yearned for the warmth of your fingers, but then remembered that the last time he felt them, they were ice cold and covered in your own blood.

At the top of my lungs in my arms, she dies

She dies.

Jason was angry. He had never handled his grief well, even from a young age. And his coping mechanisms were far from healthy. Whilst his brothers spent their time reserved to themselves, Jason was searching for revenge. But he had promised you he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

So he found his solitude in a punching bag.

Your scream piercing through the air. A punch to the bag so hard that it swung violently on its bolt.

The feeling of your blood trickling around his fingers. A right hook.

Your cold and clammy skin against his as he removed his gloves to trail his hands along your face. Another.

Your last words falling from your tongue. Punch.

Your chest rising as you spluttered. Punch. punch.

Your last exhale. Punchpunchpuch.

He kept going until his knuckles were a mangled and bloody mess and he felt like his jaw might snap from how much he had been clenching it.

Jason didn’t bother to wrap his knuckles as he trudged towards the shower, despite how much they burnt and throbbed. But for some sick reason he couldn’t wrap his mind around, he savoured it. Almost as a punishment for not being able to save you.

When he slipped into the shower, he still couldn’t stop the flood of images ricocheting around his head like a broken record that still somehow managed to play no matter how scratched up it was. He thought he might have found some solace in the feeling of the water trickling over his skin, but all he found was his mind confusing it for the feeling of your blood on his skin.

Jason let out a cry of anguish, bringing his fists to clench at his hair as he sank to the floor and began to cry.

And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me

For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

If I fall, if I fall down

Damian had seen a lot of death in his life. That came as part of being a human weapon. But no death tore him up as much as yours.

He would forever remember the cold that gripped him when he saw Jason with your body in his arms. He had never felt so empty as Bruce tried to pull him away. Damian had fought against him, nearly clawing at his father to try and get to you, but Bruce just held him close and pressed Damians face into his chest to shield him from the horrors in front of him. But it was too late. He had already seen your mangled body and he couldn’t help the way his body trembled as he clung to Bruce like a scared little child.

And Damian would never admit it, but he was scared.

Scared of how everything would play out now that you were gone. Scared that you were angry at him for being so far away. Scared that because he wasn’t there when it mattered most, that it might happen again.

He should have been there. Damian cursed to himself.

He had been on the other side of the building trying to deal with the last of the crooks. Dick was with him for a time, but had finished up much earlier than Damian and had fled as soon as possible. Damian should have picked up then that something was wrong.

But he didn’t.

And he was so frustrated with himself for not. He should have been better. Should have taken the criminal down with one blow and followed his brother to your side. Surely with all four of them there, you would have made it… right?

He wasn’t so sure.

He wasn’t sure of much anymore. No one was. And they all felt so betrayed because you being by their sides was one of the things that kept them going everyday. And now…

One thing they did know for certain though was that you were gone. And no matter how much they yearned for you, you were never coming home.

🦇 BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@mamapucket

@xxrougefangxx

@hearts4robs

(I'm sorry.)

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canmom · 9 months

Text

How do you live?

I (finally!) saw Miyazaki's new film 君たちはどう生きるか (How Do You Live?/The Boy and the Heron)! It's been out in the States for a while, and in Japan considerably longer, but it took a while to make its way over here.

I remember at the time it came out, people were having fun riffing on the incredibly cryptic marketing campaign, which consisted only of this rather abstract poster...

In the spirit of this, I resolutely avoided watching any trailers or knowing anything at all about the plot of the film. I picked up a thing or two here and there - I knew to expect some amazing Shinya Ohira animation for example, and you couldn't really avoid seeing the bird with teeth! - but overall, I had no idea.

There's plenty of great writing about this film in English already, such as kvin's fantastic sakugablog piece which discusses the physicality of Ghibli's animation, its weight and springiness, as a throughline. The stuff that kvin talks about really stood out to me as I watched this film. You can likewise read detailed interviews with Toshiyuki Inoue (fantastic interview for sakubutas) and Akihiko Yamashita on fufuro.

First up, the credits of this film are pretty much a who's who of the greatest jp animators of the last 30 years, and they've had some 7 years to cook it, so naturally this film looks fucking amazing. This is absolutely the kind of film that only Miyazaki could direct - its design language feels so familiar and yet it's iterating in all kinds of visually imaginative directions that show that yeah, the old bastard's still got it.

And like, god, man. This film's animation is really something special. Its real-world scenes in particular are full of shots that require an unbelievably strong sense of space, of both subtle and broad acting, the classic Ghibli attention to detail on mechanical objects and everyday tasks. It's full of bouncing and squishing and squeezing and oozing things. It loves to draw crowds and swarms of people and animals. It's the kind of film where any given shot would be the absolute star-of-the-show sakuga moment in just about any other anime film. If you wanted a complete statement of the Ghibli school of animation, it would be hard to do better.

And yet, for all that Miyazaki's known for his tight control over animation and heavy corrections to animators, in this film he had to step back from that kind of role and hand over the sousakkan reins to Takeshi Honda, who steps up admirably - as kvin writes above, bringing in more realist elements to the bouncy Miyazaki style to create a really effective unity that grounds all the big fantastical elements of the film and fills the first act with tension.

Alongside all that excellent key animation, the film's colour and photography departments evidently understand that well-chosen colours and good highlight shapes beat all the digital gradients and overlays you can imagine - the drawings get plenty of form from the strength of the animation, and the flat shading really pops. The backgrounds are as delicious as ever, skyscapes and vegetation and opulent interiors with the just-slightly desaturated and harmonious colours that just kind of remind you that oh yeah, it is still possible to do it this way.

Basically it's a Ghibli film lol. You know how it is.

But what of the story...? What's all this technical magic in service of?

The film's story has something of the feel of a serial story, perhaps reflecting Miyazaki's (in)famous process of working out the film gradually as he draws the storyboards. Certain ideas, like the parakeet empire, arrive in the film rather suddenly and then become fairly central to the plot. There's a clear emotional throughline, but this is not a film that is in a hurry to explain itself more than it absolutely has to. It wants to keep its magical elements numinous and mysterious. I would say, though, it's generally more satisfying in this approach than some of Miyazaki's other later films like Howl's Moving Castle, and resolves a lot more clearly.

So what is it like, About? Well, Miyazaki has been pretty open about channeling a lot of his personal relationships into the film, and a lot of it seems to reflect more or less obliquely on him. It's what they call a 'personal film'. The protagonist's position as the son of an aeroplane factory owner during WWII is straight-up from life. What about the old sorcerer, haphazardly stacking blocks to keep a world alive, and looking for someone to succeed him? The reading's kinda obvious, even if Miya himself says this guy is based on his memory of Takahata. Well, he can be both...

To say more I'm gonna have to delve into the spoiler zone. See you below the cut.

OK so! Let's try and get some thoughts in order.

first, a plot summary type of thing

Our first act introduces us to Mahito at roughly the moment his mother Hisako dies in a hospital fire. This is midway through the war, which is present mostly in the background - now and then we see soldiers marching around, and of course Mahito's dad runs a factory producing warplane parts, not entirely unlike Miyazaki's own father although seemingly a bit higher up the ladder.

We jump forward a little and Mahito's father remarries - to his deceased wife's sister, no less, and she's already pregnant. This is Natsuko, who does her best to play the role of mother, but Mahito still has big traumas and he is understandably not entirely on board with the idea of welcoming a mum 2 who looks almost exactly like mum 1. He moves with Natsuko into a huge old house complex, a mix of older Japanese architecture with a more recent Western wing where the family currently sleeps - and staffed by a small army of colourful old ladies who are eager for any canned meat or cigarettes they can get their hands on.

Also there's this freaky heron that keeps bothering Mahito. It seems to have something to do with a mysterious tower which turns out to have been built by his great-uncle. Mahito visits the tower, but can't make his way inside. Natsuko tells him not to go into the tower.

Mahito goes to school, but naturally they don't much take to the new rich kid on the block, and so after being attacked by his classmates on his way home he injures himself with a rock. (His dumbass dad is like, who did this to you son, I'll fuck 'em up.) For the rest of the movie, he has half his head shaved to accomodate a bandage, which is the sort of attention to detail this movie loves.

The heron has started growing teeth and talking to Mahito, telling him to come to the tower. Mahito is convinced it's a trap, and after a maybe-dream sequence in which Natsuko shoots an arrow to drive off the heron, he steals cigarettes from Natsuko in order to get one of the servants to sharpen his knife, and then constructs a bow and arrow out of bamboo - using a couple of the heron's feathers. Constructing the bow and arrow is shown in immense, loving detail.

In the process, he witnesses Natsuko walk into the forest, and also stumbles on a book: How Do You Live? by Genzaburō Yoshino, which contains a handwritten message from his mother. He looks at this book briefly... and this is about the extent of the connection of the film to the book, beyond thematic parallels.

The maids notice that Natsuko is missing. Mahito tells one of the maids, Kiriko, that he saw her go into the forest, and they follow, finding an old road that gives another approach to the tower. They're greated by the heron man, who is increasingly emerging from the heron's beak to reveal a big warty nose. He's some kind of like... heron selkie or something, a gnome in a heron skin. There's some wonderfully grotesque animation around this guy.

Heron dude taunts Mahito with an illusion of his mother Hisako. Mahito threatens him with the bow - the heron guy is like, do your worst, not realising it's a maaagic arrow. The arrow chases him around the room and pierces his beak, fucking up his magic. At this point, the tower master shows up and orders the heron to guide Mahito. Heron guy sends everyone through the floor into a fantastical world...

Mahito arrives in front of a huge, sinister tomb. He approaches the gate, and a swarm of pelicans walk up behind, crawling all over him and pressing him through the gate. This causes a storm to start brewing, since opening the gate seems to piss off the stones or something...

A fisher woman resembling a much younger Kiriko runs up and chases the pelicans away. She takes Mahito under her wing, explaining that this world is inhabited mostly by dead people, but there are also these little round guys called the wareware, who gain the ability to fly when they eat a fish's guts.

Kiriko, uniquely in this world, has the ability to kill, so she catches fish to sell to the other inhabitants and feed to the wareware; she and Mahito butcher a huge fish. Mahito fairly quickly figures out that she is somehow the same Kiriko that entered with him. She has tiny charms representing the other maids, which serve an apotropaic function.

That night, staying on Kiriko's huge derelict ship of a home, they watch the wareware rise into the sky to be born as humans in Mahito's world. They're attacked by the pelicans, but a fire-wielding magic user called Hisa (hmmmmmmmmmm) drives the pelicans away. Mahito shouts at her not to harm the wareware, but Kiriko assures him that more of the wareware will survive thanks to Hisa's intervention.

Later, a singed and dying pelican explains the pelicans' predicament to Mahito in a scene that calls to mind the animals in Mononoke-hime. The pelicans are foreigners in this world, they don't have anything to eat, so they take it as their role to eat the wareware. The heron man arrives on the scene too, offering to help Mahito find Natsuko as Mahito - coming in to his own as a protagonist more - buries the pelican. Mahito distrusts him but eventually Kiriko persuades them to give working together a try.

Mahito and the heron set out. As they pass through a forest, the heron reveals that thanks to Mahito's arrow, he can't fly and do heron shit anymore - and by magic law, only Mahito can fix the hole. Mahito applies his new woodworking skills to fashion a bung for the hole. The heron tries to stage a top 10 anime betrayal, but then the bung needs more work, so Mahito fixes it, and from that point on, the heron joins the party and he and Mahito are fast friends.

(You might wonder why I just call him 'the heron' and not by a name. He never gets named! He's just the heron man.)

Mahito and the heron arrive at the house of a blacksmith who's supposed to help them find Natsuko, only to find it guarded by big buff parakeet men. The parakeets are splendidly goofy round guys - they remind me of the heedra in Nausicaa. The heron draws the parakeets away, and Mahito enters the house, only to find, uh oh! More parakeets. The parakeets prepare to eat Mahito, who is not carrying a child and therefore fair game unlike Natsuko, but Hisa shows up and burns them with fire magic. She looks just like a young version of Mahito's mum! Funny that. Hisa helps Mahito escape into her house through the fire, and then takes him to infiltrate the parakeets' empire.

In the human world, the maids explain the backstory of the tower to Mahito's dad. It's a weird meteorite that came from space, it turns out, and Mahito's great-uncle built the tower on top of it before eventually disappearing inside. Mahito's dad overprepares in an elaborate getup complete with katana, and goes to try to rescue everyone.

Hisa leads Mahito to a corridor full of doors which open into all the different worlds, including his own world. Mahito briefly glimpses his dad coming to try and rescue him - the two see each other briefly, but the parakeets catch wind of the whole thing and attack, and so Mahito and Hisa have to flee back into the magical world. We see that the parakeet guys turn into regular parakeets when they come into the human world. Mahito's dad becomes convinced he turned into a parakeet.

Mahito and Hisa make their way to the delivery room where Natsuko is resting, waiting to give birth. On their way, lightning starts emerging from the stone - Hisa explains that the stone is sentient and pissed with them. Mahito insists on approaching Natsuko despite this being a huge taboo. They have a heart to heart - Natsuko's mask breaks and she tells Mahito she hates him, while he finally starts calling her mother, as he's assaulted by paper charms that tear at him violently. They part, with Hisa burning the charms to free Mahito, but it's too much and they both pass out.

Mahito dreams of meeting the sorcerer, who stacks irregularly shaped wooden blocks, and explains that stacking the blocks is necessary to maintain the world, buying a few days at a time. The sorcerer reveals the huge flying rock that is the source of his power; he also shows Mahito some blocks, but Mahito somehow divines that these blocks are 'stone for building tombs' and stained with malice. The sorcerer approvingly says this is a good sign for Mahito's ability to succeed him.

While they were asleep, the parakeets have captured Hisa and Mahito. One of them is preparing to eat Mahito, but the heron arrives just in time to save him. They Metal Gear Solid their way through the kingdom while the Parakeet King - a big swaggering guy very like the colonel in Castle in the Sky - goes to press a claim on the wizard, using Hisa and Mahitos' taboo act of entering the delivery room as a bargaining chip. There's some very funny scenes where the parakeets cheer for their king.

Mahito pursues the parakeet king, but the king destroys the staircase behind him, and talks to the sorcerer. The sorcerer is inclined to wave away the transgression, because he wants to let Mahito succeed him, but the parakeet king seems to be bringing him around. I kind of forget how this part went, but the parakeet king goes away from the sorcerer for a bit while Hisa is freed from her prison thing.

Mahito climbs back up with the heron man's help, arriving in the sorcerer's little subplane. The parakeet king quietly follows him, after telling his aides to inform his subjects he was a good king. Mahito approaches the sorcerer, who reveals he has found a new set of blocks, unstained by malice, and again invites Mahito to succeed him. Mahito says that his self-injury is proof of his malice, making him unfit for the job.

At this point, the parakeet king intervenes. Angry at all this sorcerous malarky, he desperately attempts to stack the stones himself, but when they don't stack, he flies into a rage and slices them with his sword. This naturally causes the world to start collapsing, and everyone runs to the doors to escape into the human world.

Mahito has by this point figured out that Hisa is his mum, and he asks if she really wants to go back to their world, knowing that she will very definitely die in a fire not much later. But she is naturally on board with this. Young!Kiriko goes with her, suggesting that she and Hisako entered the magical world at the same time. Meanwhile, Mahito returns to his own time, with Natsuko and the heron. All the various parakeets and pelicans come out through this door too. Old!Kiriko is restored from her apatropaic charm.

As everyone celebrates their safe return (and the appearance of a fuckton of birds), the heron tells Mahito that he ought to forget what happened in the magic world. We skip forward again, with Mahito - now with a baby sibling - setting off to Tokyo. Roll credits!

now let's comment on it

This is not a film that necessarily prioritises an internal logic playing out - new elements enter unexpectedly even quite late in the film. The sorcerer's motivation is murky until late on; the parakeets become major antagonists despite entering only halfway through the film.

There is a certain temptation, knowing how autobiographical this film is, to take it is a roman à clef. Mahito is of course a young Miyazaki; the old sorcerer's concern about finding a successor might be about Miyazaki wondering who should take over Ghibli or if it should just be allowed to die. Under this schema, the parakeets might be Ghibli's legion of fans, or the merchandising empire that prints their designs on every possible product. kvin's article develops this kind of reading, finding some angles I wouldn't have even considered, such as how the idea of weight communicated by the animation factors in to such an allegaroy. It's also something suggested in Miyazaki's own comments about the film, where the sorcerer is Takahata, the heron man is producer Toshio Suzuki...

It definitely helps to know a bit about Miyazaki's background when approaching this film. However, I think it would be reductive to go too far with this kind of reading, and take everything as an allegory for something in Miyazaki's life. The film still has to stand on its own feet!

'Coming of age' is the spin put on it by some outlets, like the BBC. And this is accurate to an extent. The arc of this film is similar to Spirited Away: Mahito starts out sullen and traumatised, but like Chihiro he transitions over the course of his journey in the magical world into the kind of determined Miyazaki protagonist we're used to. On this coming of age angle... well, also like with Chihiro, I don't find the Mahito of the first part of the film especially unsympathetic, his alienation is extremely natural given his situation. Mahito's dad kinda sucks! Living in wartime Japan also really kinda sucks, even if you're the son of a rich dude. But definitely over the course of the film Mahito has a change of heart towards Natsuko, and forms friendships that motivate him to try to protect them. His character arc definitely sees him become 'more prosocial'.

However, there's another angle that's pretty important - the idea of the weight of 'malice', the cursed existences of the pelicans and the like, and the fantasy of building a utopian world that is free of these things. This returns to a theme of Nausicaa, the manga in particular, where Nausicaa discovers that the world she knows - the toxic forest in particular - is actually an elaborate artificial system for cleansing the world of pollutants, that the clean world on the other side will be uninhabitable to her and her people, and that the architects of this system wait in stasis to replace them in this utopian future world. Nausicaa destroys them, commiting instead to an uncertain future.

In Mononoke-hime likewise, we encounter the lepers and former sex workers of Irontown clinging on to the 'cursed' world. Their extractivist project proves incredibly destructive, but the film still regards them sympathetically, and the resolution sees them perhaps finding a new way to live - and San, the feral girl, reconciling herself to the idea of humans.

Here, although the parakeet king forces the decision, Mahito has already declared that he doesn't believe he's fit to oversee a utopia, but instead that his place is in the awful, violent human world.

The film, and the book it's vaguely based on, are titled How do you live? In Japanese, that's a plural 'you' (君たち). There's a lot of ways you could read it, depending on who you take as 'you' - a child asking an adult how to live, or equally a future question of how will you live. This is a lot more explicit in the novel - which I have not read, but here is a summary courtesy of wiki:

Junichi Honda is a fifteen-year-old junior high school student, known by his nickname Koperu, after the astronomer Nicholas Copernicus. He is athletic and academically gifted, and popular at school. Koperu's father, a bank executive, passed away when he was young and he lives with his mother. His uncle (on his mother's side) lives nearby and visits frequently. Koperu and his uncle are very close. Koperu shares about his life and his uncle gives him support and advice. His uncle also documents and comments on these interactions in a diary, with the intent to eventually give the diary to Koperu. The diary writing, which is interspersed with the narrative, provides insight into the ethical and emotional trials that Koperu shared with his uncle. The diary entries, which cover themes such as "view of things", "structure of society", "relation", etc. are in the style of a note written to Koperu.[8]

Thinking like Copernicus that our Earth is a celestial body moving within the vastness of space, or thinking that our Earth is fixed at the center of the universe, are two ways of thinking that, in reality, are not only related to astronomy. Even when we think about things like the world around us or our own lives, the truth is that we are still revolving around them after all.

In the end, Koperu writes a decision on his future way of living as a reply to his uncle, and the novel ends with the narrator asking the question "how do you live?" to the reader.

The author of the novel was a socialist, who had been imprisoned by the nationalist government, and wrote the book intending to impart lessons on ethics. The version of his book published after the war was heavily edited to strip the book of political content. But it's also, perhaps paradoxically, a book that centres on very wealthy characters, aimed narrowly at educated boys, though it became a widely read classic.

Studio Ghibli's films, from both Miyazaki and Takahata, have a habit of being framed as imparting something to the younger generation - something the pair seem to have seen as a mission all the way back in the days of Panda Kopanda. For example, while Grave of the Fireflies is seen as the classic tragic war movie, for Takahata it was also aimed at criticising what he saw as the careless, consumerist generation of the 80s; the stubborn arrogance of the protagonist supposed to reflect on this. It's an attitude that also emerges in their comments about Chihiro. And, indeed, one of the first things we heard about How Do You Live? was that it was aimed towards Miyazaki's grandson - and more broadly towards that generation.

So what does this film have to say to the younger generations? Let's have a look at it from Mahito's POV.

For Mahito, the adults in his life are all pretty complicated. His father is enthusiastic and well-meaning but incredibly oblivious to what his son is going through (we might recall some of what Miyazaki wrote about his father in Starting Point, describing him as basically a grifter). Natsuko is masking pretty hard, trying to play the role of Good New Mum and connect to her newly acquired son, but there's an intrinsic distance. It is understandable that Mahito would want to reject them.

Mahito is... not entirely a passive character, he goes to some efforts to for example fashion the bow and arrow and repair the heron man's beak, but mostly he is pulled around by the plot into a strange world he doesn't understand. At first, his instinct is to retreat, even to the point of self-injury. Once he arrives in the magical world, he has acquired something of a purpose (finding Natsuko), but he gets pushed into near-disaster situations (the pelicans piling up to push him through the gate at the tomb) or stumbles into circumstances where something is expected of him (hey kid, gut this fish!). Gradually though his exposure to this world pulls him out of his shell. He runs into conflicts and injustices that seem intractable - the wareware and the pelicans - and has little power to intervene except to bury the bodies.

Eventually, he gets to carry out his main objective - finding Natsuko - but despite finally deciding to accept Natsuko as his new mother, he finds himself rejected, not just by her but also by the earth. Perhaps feeling responsible for getting her into trouble, his new objective becomes rescuing freshly-damsel'd Hisa. But now new adults want things of him - his great-uncle has decided he'd make a fine successor. Mahito has to make a decision here about what relationships he wants to commit to, what sort of life he wants to build - and he chooses the world he found so alienating at the outset of the film, the one which hurt him by taking his mother, not to the secondary-world fantasy.

It could be a 'this world is all we have' sort of statement, perhaps. But also the last act of the film feels like it gets a bit caught up in Castle in the Sky-style adventure-story beats.

I do feel like some aspects of the film ended up a little underbaked - which is an odd thing to say because it's not a short film and there is so much in it already. But Hisa for example - she's got badass powers and all, but I feel we barely get a chance to get a sense of what motivates her. Why did she enter the fantasy world? She acts at first like she doesn't know Mahito is her future son, but rapidly becomes incredibly devoted to him (in a way that reads a little romancey lmao). So much of her screen time is dedicated to having her convey the secrets of the world that it's hard to get a bead on her as a person.

Likewise, Natsuko - why did she enter this world to have her baby in this special ritual delivery chamber? She clearly knows more than most of the characters, but she gets kind of sidelined after Mahito confronts her, with wizard shit becoming more central. The animation does such a fantastic job of selling her feelings in the first part of the film that it feels like a shame that she drifts away at the end.

The progression of the film feels rather like a dream, where everything is arranged by symbolic significance to Mahito. It makes sense... on a magical level, where the secondary world is shaped primarily by parallels in the real one. So the tiny apatropaic statues of the old ladies protect him because they represent the role the real old ladies have in his life. Hisa has fire magic because Hisako died in a fire. Once Mahito has come to his personal resolutions about returning to the world, the magical one is no longer needed, and it collapses.

This is not such an uncommon role for magic in a story. In Miyazaki's own works, we have Totoro and Spirited Away, where a magical world provides direction or relief to a child's real struggles. Or take for example Okiura's film A Letter To Momo, in which the three yōkai recognise taking care of the grieving Momo as their explicit purpose as spirits. This magical world comes to Mahito to help him come to terms with losing his mother, and reorient himself towards living in a painful world.

Meanwhile, the sorcerer, whether he be Miyazaki or Takahata, is quite a distant figure. He may maintain the magical world by stacking his blocks, may be the authority which factions within it must plead to, but he also rules from afar in a vast empty palace full of long halls and open air spaces. His main company seems to be a big fucking rock, with which he made a 'contract'. He's generally handling it a bit better than, say, Ushiromiya Kinzo - he receives the parakeet king with good humour - but he's a pretty flawed god of his little world. So much of this world seems to pre-exist him, it's not something he constructed. Still, when he shows up, you pretty much have to do what he says.

If this is about Miyazaki's relation to Takahata, it seems like quite a sad portrayal. But 'unapproachable patriarch' does sorta describe their role in the studio from what I understand (c.f. Oshii's infamous article comparing them to the Kremlin).

When it comes to the question of who should succeed Miyazaki, we should probably consider the matter of Yoshifumi Kondō, who was being set up as the next big Ghibli director until his untimely death - which allegedly Takahata was willing to accept the blame for. The mythology built up around Miyazaki and Takahata is double-edged.

Here are some rather startling comments from Toshiyuki Inoue's interview. Inoue is one of the most impressive animators who ever lived in my book, the other star of the realist line besides Okiura. Just have a look at his booru page: iconic scenes from GitS, Akira, Millenium Actress; even in more recent films, he pretty much carried Maquia, and steals the show with his scenes in Miss Hokusai.

And yet even he was intimidated to be working alongside Miyazaki when he first came on board for Kiki's Delivery Service, fresh off Akira:

I believe you’ve always been a fan of Miyazaki’s, why were you scared to work with him? Toshiyuki Inoue: I had heard quite a few scary stories. A lot of acquaintances had worked on Nausicaä, Laputa and Totoro before that, so I knew how scary he could be when he got angry – I had heard stories of people being fired mid-production, things like that. How was it actually? Toshiyuki Inoue: Not as scary as I had imagined. He’d only rarely scream in the studio. But he did get angry. I’d sometimes be called to some separate room and lectured alongside Kōji Morimoto and Masaaki Endō. It felt like being in school all over again.

'Only rarely'. Honestly. Inoue describes how difficult it was for him to adapt his logical, analytical style to Ghibli's stretchy, bouncy characters - and how Miyazaki would disparage him if he, for example, drew a ship inaccurately.

For Inoue, coming back to How Do You Live was something like a 'return match'. He talks about how an older Miyazaki was no longer able to strictly correct the animation, and in general age was limiting him, but he still feels that Miyazaki is fundamentally superior:

Toshiyuki Inoue: I’ve always wished for a return match or a way to redeem myself. But even if I say that, I know I can’t even pretend to rival Miyazaki. I just can’t win. He’s extremely smart and learned, and on top of that, as an animator he always transcends common sense: he’s so talented that I know very well there’s nothing I can do against it. The more I learn about him, the more I realize I’ll never be on that level.

Miyazaki's genius is undeniable, but man... it's not a good mindset to cultivate if you want to find a successor lmao. If even Inoue doesn't feel he can measure up, who the hell could?

Mind you, it does rather seem that Miyazaki had mellowed out by the point of How Do You Live?. Here's Yamashita:

Akihiko Yamashita: As I said, the core of an animator’s job is to follow what the director asks, so whenever I had trouble with that, I’d go see Miyazaki to show him my roughs. He’d advise me on the things that were missing and reassure me about those that were good. He really helped me to gain more confidence in myself.

Reading these interviews underlines pretty hard that we shouldn't get too caught up in the mythology of Miyazaki the mighty auteur. While the story may be all on Miyazaki, and most of the character designs (with the notable exception of Natsuko)... so much of the details of the animation, the stuff that really makes this film land, is primarily shaped by everyone else - Honda in particular, but also the individual key animators who interpreted his scenes. I really need to get my hands on a copy of that Industrial History of Studio Ghibli book to get a less Miyazaki-centric perspective on the studio's history.

I do not feel, having come out of this film, any closer to knowing the answer to that eternally pressing question of how do you live - I guess I'm still working out my answer to that one, and I will be until I die. And maybe that's rather the point. I think this film still carries some of the flaws of Miyazaki's later films - despite having so many iconic scenes, it doesn't quite seem to know where it's going. But I am so glad to have seen this in the theatre (I saw it at the Prince Charles theatre in Soho with friends, the theatre was completely packed!), and glad Miyazaki managed to get this one out before he goes. Whatever happens to Ghibli without its sorcerer, it's been a hell of a thing to witness.

#anime #the boy and the heron #how do you live #studio ghibli #hayao miyazaki #film

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inuyashaluver · 8 months

Note

Okay I think I need more MLT fics because that was too cute for me to handle at 7 AM

nail day - maya le tissier

maya le tissier x reader

description: in which you and your girlfriend have your monthly nail session, resulting in silly arguments and timers being set

warnings: nothing i think, fluffy!!

a/n: your wish is my command, lovely! IM FEEDING EVERYONE MAYA CONTENT WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT, I LOVE HER ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, maya find it hard to be apart from each other. the familiarity of one another’s presence was considered a necessity at this point.

a main contributor to your major codependency is the fact that you both play for england and manchester united. there wasn’t really an option to be separated and that was the way you liked it.

—

you and maya originally started dating when you both signed for brighton & hove in 2018, you were the same age and just stuck together like glue, your friendship short lived until you both started flirting shamelessly with each other.

through endless pining and yearning over numerous dates, you began to date when maya made the first move.

it was a cold day and maya had texted you that chilly morning that she had a little surprise for you. when she came to pick you up for training, she stood at your front door with a warm drink in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

“what’s all this for?” you smile, hugging the girl tightly, taking the items quickly before ushering her inside your flat.

“oh just because, look how they spelt your name on the cup” she giggles nervously, fiddling with her hands as she avoids eye contact with you.

your eyebrows furrow but you look at the cup nonetheless, you look down to see maya’s handwriting on the cup.

‘girlfriend ♡’ followed by a little ‘please x’ written under it. the smile on your face was something maya would never forget, it made her heart beat so fast, honestly feeling like a panic attack.

you put your cup down with a big smile and immediately jump on the girl, she catches you by your thighs and laughs brightly when you kiss her cheek repeatedly.

“i’d love to be your girlfriend! you’re so cute” you coo, she smiles up at you and wraps her arms around your waist to give you a tight hug. “you’re the cutest” she mumbles into your shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss there while she holds you to her.

everything felt right in that moment, like a missing piece of you was finally complete. both of you knew, this was special.

—

when you and maya signed to manchester united, you moved in together in a brand new flat, creating a home of your own together. a perfect reflection of the two of you in every nook and cranny.

one thing you and maya agreed on wholeheartedly was that spending time together outside of football related activities was incredibly important to your relationship.

whether it was enjoying a night in or just going out for a stroll, you both loved that quality time of just being together without a care in the world.

one of your favourite activities to do with each other was to get your nails done. every single one of your teammates at united as well as england knew how important nail day was to you and maya.

it was a time for both of you to just sit and chat with a little pampering, you would both make an effort to match in some way. whether it was the same colour or same little design, both of you would be walking out of that nail salon with matching smiles and nails.

did you get teased for it? oh god, like no tomorrow but you and maya loved it more than anything. a subtle yet extremely loud ode to your relationship.

something else you and maya also loved about nail day was your nightly back scratching session. sure it sounds weird but you and maya literally couldn’t get enough of it, becoming part of your night routing no matter where you were.

so much so, it blended into your everyday lives, the gentle scratch of nails offering a comfort the both of you couldn’t explain, it was familiar, it was home.

—

you and maya finally had a free weekend, both of you excited for nail day. the previous day in training, some of the girls were asking what you’re matching set will be this time, something maya took great pride in and asked for opinions to everyone that was willing.

“do you think red or white?” maya ponders to ella and millie, the girls look at your girlfriend with amused smiles as she slings an arm over your shoulder.

“hm, red goes with the kit” ella points out, millie nods along with the girls words. maya thinks about it for a moment, “true, but england camp is in a couple days and we won’t have time to change it so if it’s white then it’s universal” maya explains, at your girlfriend’s seriousness, you begin to giggle.

maya immediately looks down at you with a smile before she realises you’re mocking her, “baby, this isn’t a joke” maya huffs, “i know, lovey” you nod with a sympathetic pout before kissing her cheek affectionately, causing the girl to melt into your touch with pink cheeks.

“but if we’re wearing the away kit, you could also get blue as well” millie informs, this conversation was genuinely so serious and it was so endearing.

maya sighs, she’s frustrated. “shit, you’re right,” she tucks you closer into her side as you all conversed.

“we’ll figure it out, maya baby, don’t stress” you chuckle, reaching up to graze your nails on the back of her hand to ease her worries, maya looks at you and nods before giving you a quick kiss on your lips.

—

you both ended up getting both blue and white nails, maya gives you a satisfied smile when you both interlock hands after walking out of the salon. you both had the time of your life just chatting and enjoying each other’s company while getting your nails done.

when you both got back to your house, you both binge watched a bunch of movies while packing your bags for camp, which was coming up the next day.

giggling and getting distracted by maya wanting your attention. managing to tug you in her lap to lazily make out, you give into her for a couple minutes before you realise what she was doing.

“maya” you scold, she smirks at you while she squeezes your hips, “yes, beautiful?” she kisses your lips sweetly and you physically have to push her away when she keeps chasing your lips for more contact.

“the bags” you point out with a smile, she groans and rests her forehead against your collarbone, nuzzling into you while you remind her what she needed to pack, she tended to be quite forgetful when it came to packing her bag. (you think she does it on purpose to make you do it - spoiler, she does)

“you’re not listening, are you?” you huff, feeling the girl kiss your neck gently, “you sound very pretty” she mumbles into your skin, moving to kiss your jaw and giving you a teasing kiss on the corner of your mouth.

you shake your head at her amusingly, “you’re impossible” you whisper against her lips, kissing her quickly before hopping off her, receiving numerous complaints as you packed the girl’s bag for her. she gave you a big, dizzying kiss as a thank you so you weren’t complaining.

that night as soon as you got to bed, maya gives you a devious grin and you already knew what she wanted. she pushed you to lie flat on the bed while she peeled your shirt slightly upwards.

you let out a sigh of relief when the girl gently rakes her nails over the skin of your back. she kisses your cheek as she scratches your back, smiling at the way you completely melted under her touch. it was incredibly intimate for the both of you, something that you both considered your love language for each other.

after about five minutes, you and maya swap, she hums happily as your nails graze her warm skin. “i love you” she exhales, you kiss her back quickly, “i love you” you giggle at her progressively getting sleepier by the second.

you take your hand off her for a second and she immediately springs up to look at you with an offended expression. “hey! that was way shorter than what i did for you!” maya accuses, throwing you a half-hearted scowl as you look at her with wide eyes.

“it was the same amount!” you laugh, she shakes her head instantly, sitting up to face you in the bed. “no, baby, sorry but you’re wrong,” maya tutts, crossing her arms over her chest as you giggle at her.

“don’t laugh, it’s not funny!” she whines, you nod and place a hand on her thigh, your nails gently scraping the skin there.

you watch her visibly soften for a second before she points an accusatory finger at you, “don’t try and weasel your way out of this, missy” she scoffs, you laugh brightly at her and you can see her fight a smile.

“i’m not laughing” maya grits and rolls her eyes, you can see the corners of her mouth twitching as you laugh at her. “hm, i think you’re smiling though” you grin, moving closer to her and poking her cheek, she moves her head to bite your finger and you yelp as she almost catches it between her teeth.

“nope, that’s it’, we’re setting a timer” maya hurriedly grabs her phone from her bedside table and puts on a five minute timer, looking at you expectantly when she lays back down. “fine” you groan, watching your girlfriend become a puddle under your touch.

after the timer went off, she reset it and you immediately protest. “maya! no, it’s my turn!” you whine, the girl looks at you in mock confusion, “what, no? it’s still mine, look” she shows you her screen and you can see she reset the timer.

you narrow your eyes at her but give in easily, you both would do anything for each other and you both knew it.

“the deal is that you scratch your girlfriend’s back, (y/n/n), be serious!” maya exclaims after scratching your back after her 3 turns, moving to tackle you to the bed, you both lay on your sides giggling and smiling as you just look at each other. the amount of love you held in your eyes told you both everything and more.

she grins lazily at you when you push some stray hairs out of her face, she pulls you closer to her and instinctively scratches your back.

you smile and kiss her sweetly, returning the gesture and falling asleep easily that night.

—

when you both arrive to camp, you’re immediately asked about the results of nail day, maya boasts immediately and shows off to everyone. even showing the media team which has shown to be a new tradition in the arrival videos.

long story short, nail day is essential for both of you and everyone knows it.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily lessiiii

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

mayaletissier: don’t let your girlfriend take advantage of you just because she’s cute and pretty, kids

view all comments

yourname: you don’t scratch someone’s back for two seconds and suddenly you’re taking advantage of them

↳ mayaletissier: i still love you

↳ yourname: i’m a saint because i love you more

yourname: you got way more scratches then i did!

↳ mayaletisser: i did not!

↳ yourname: 30 minutes worth!?

↳ mayaletissier: have i ever told you how beautiful you are

↳ yourname: minx

lionesses: these nails were a definite favourite!!

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #maya le tissier #maya le tissier x reader

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tigerf00d · 1 year

Text

UNBEARABLE

George Karim x Fem!Reader

Tags: Smut! Aged up characters obv :), no use of y/n, all of Lockwood & Co., Brief Quill Kipps interaction.

6.7k words

a/n: I love George and just had to get in on the fun.. crossposted on ao3 as well, so if you've come from there and already read this, hi!

George Casper Karim was unbearable. There’s simply no other way to put it.

His big stupid head was always getting in your way, correcting you, and complaining when you forgot who took the biscuit last and helped yourself. You could hear him in your head, “Really, you ought to have gotten it by now!”

But oh, how you loathe to admit that you needed him, how helpful it was when he ironed your clothes before a client came round, and the comfort of coming home from a particularly draining case to warm food placed wordlessly in front of you.

And he could be sweet. He could. As uncomfortable with touch as he was, he’d brush your shoulder with his hand if he could tell you really needed it; he’d stand close on cold nights walking home, Lockwood and Lucy would too, but they readily shared their space like that, George didn’t.

It didn’t help that sometimes you’d catch yourself watching his side profile as he researched or the quiet admittance that he looked like an Angel as the sun illuminated his hair in a halo of curls as he helped you up after tripping and landing on the pavement, even though he was laughing at you.

There were just no other words. He was unbearable. You had the inability to bear him.

You wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him so hard his world spun so he could feel just a fraction of what he did to you. Shrink him down, trap him in your pocket, and feed him to his heart’s content so he is always warm, safe, and happy. Ugh, he was just the worst. Ever.

So it’s safe to say you have no idea why you agreed to this.

Rotwell’s was holding its annual celebration, and Lockwood & Co was invited. Well, most of Lockwood & Co, Skull obviously couldn’t come, no matter how annoyingly they asked. Despite the agency not being in any immediate danger, for once, Lockwood still deemed it essential to be partially undercover to try and snoop out new cases that were particularly interesting (read: dangerous, life-threatening or otherwise malignant), and for some reason that meant George and you had to be a couple for the evening.

Anthony Lockwood wouldn’t get to be a ghost. You were sure of it. He was going straight to hell. Sorry, Luce.

“I’m going to die.” The pillow muffled your voice as you lay face down in Lucy’s bed,

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“It’s not like you’ve had to pretend to date one of them, Lucy.”

“Well…”

You stared at the girl opposite you, “He’s… done this before…?”

She nodded solemnly, betrayed by her eyes sparkling with mirth. Groaning, you rolled back over.

“Did you have to be with George?”

“No, mine was with Lockwood.”

Deep down, you refused to admit that that made you pleased. If she had said otherwise, it might have stoked useless jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

After a moment, you sat up, nodding and looking at what was prepared for tonight. You thankfully had a nice dress already, a velvet cranberry coloured thing with mesh sleeves that opened at the elbow and draped elegantly. It'd been a gift as congratulations on joining the agency and moving out from your family. Lucy had painted your nails with some sheer iridescent polish, matching the shine to the silver on your accessories.

George’s outfit remained to be seen, but the way Lockwood smiled when you showed what you’d be wearing, it matched somehow.

“Uhm, Luce?”

“Yes?”

“What– what is that?”

That was the two-piece set on top of your dress, but it was clearly meant to be worn beneath.

“Oh.” She smiled awkwardly, “There was a two-for-one sale.”

“I see.” Accepting this, you picked the garments up, and she turned back to fixing her makeup. “How did you know my size?”

She froze.

“Lucy?”

“You aren’t gonna like it.”

“What did you do!”

“You aren’t the… only one that does your laundry.”

George.

You turned to face her fully, “You. You.” The words wouldn’t come out.

“It’s fine! He just checked for me quickly. He probably doesn’t even remember.”

Eyes unblinking, you stared at her. “I don’t think I can do this.” having said that, you flung yourself back onto the bed.

“You don’t even have to wear it, I just saw that the colour I picked out matched your dress, so I put it out for you. Please get up.” She pleaded. “I don’t think I told him what it was for, either,” she was speaking like she was conversing with a wild animal.

Relenting, you got back up. “These feel expensive.”

“Hence the two-for-one,”

“They won’t show under my dress?”

Lucy grinned wolfishly, “The plan is to be hidden until the last moment, so no. They’re pretty comfortable too. I’ve worn mine a few times.”

“Oh ew, Lucy.”

“All I’m saying is it’s a hit for both parties.”

You couldn’t help but make a face.

“Not that George will be seeing them, anyway… but I guess it’s good to be in the right state of mind…”

She dragged out the E in “Exactly.”

✧☽────•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆

You felt pretty. The lingerie did match your dress nicely and fit perfectly, you noted with mixed emotions. And your hair, makeup and accessories all seemed to be working together and playing nicely for once.

“Don’t you two look excellent!” Lockwood said, sidling beside Lucy and giving her an affectionate kiss on the cheek, “Come here; I want to look at you both properly.”

You did as he said, pretending to be doing it unwillingly but feeling very pleased inside.

“Yeah? D’you think it’ll go with George’s?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen him yet, have you?”

You shook your head no, and he turned to holler the other man’s name through the house. George, to his credit, arrived very shortly after. You half expected him to be in a too-big dress shirt and borrowed pants, but you were begrudgingly surprised.

“Oh.” You whispered.

“Oh?” George answered from the doorway.

His suit was a rich burgundy, and while you wore silver, he wore a simple gold chain. The shirt was off-white and a wispy ghost-patterned teal tie.

“You look smart.” You provided.

“I am smart.” He deadpanned.

To that, you rolled your eyes, “You know what I mean. You look good. Clean up well. Whatever,” you averted your gaze and waved your hand in an ‘and so on’ motion. You could feel your face warming, avoiding Lucy’s all-too-knowing expression.

“Ah. Thanks,” and after a moment, he quietly added, “Your dress is nice.”

“Thank you.” You looked up to see his eyes already waiting to meet yours, goosebumps dancing on your skin in reaction.

Lockwood groaned loudly.

“Shut up, Lockwood.” Lucy chided.

“Are they going to be like this all night?”

George broke his gaze first, turning his attention to the taller man. “You’re the one that wanted us to be dating.”

Temporarily throwing your nerves to the wind, you decided that maybe you could have fun with this. You walked to stand beside him, dramatically throwing an arm around him before facing Lockwood and Lucy, “Yeah, what my honey said!”

“My honey?” George questioned, a confused smile on his face.

“We need pet names. If we were really dating, I’d settle for nothing less.” You smiled resolutely, then added. “You don’t like honey? What about… snookums?” He shook his head. “Sweetie pie? Light of my life? My heart? All I hold dearest?” He shook his head no to each one, pausing at my heart, which you would definitely be filing away for later.

“Any normal one like love or babe will do fine, thanks.”

“You spoil my fun, love.”

Distantly, you could hear Anthony retch as Lucy and George sent him twin glares.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Well, you need a pet name too, don’t you?” He asked, and you realised that you hadn’t really put much thought into it. You tried to think back to things on tv or in books.

“Um, I’m not sure. What do you think?”

The pair of you continued to ponder when you stumbled on the memory of when he’d made you both laugh so hard your sides hurt.

You’d gone to Arif’s with him, eating one of the doughnuts as you walked back to 35 Portland Row when you’d unexplainably dropped it and, in your effort to catch it mid-tumble, tripped on a gap in the concrete and fell yourself.

Annoyed and hurt, you’d looked up at George to see him already offering a hand to help you up, but he was laughing. And as much as you wanted to pout, his laughter was infectious. The sun behind his head illuminating the edges of his hair and the sides of his face, which had a chocolate smear and sprinkles on either side of his mouth from his own doughnut, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. The memory made you smile even now.

“What about angel?” You said softly.

“Angel? I can do that.” He nodded, eyes narrowed in curiosity, having noted your mood shift.

With a clap, Lockwood announced, “Great, well, now that that’s settled, we better get going. The gala starts soon, and we wouldn’t want you two lovebirds to miss your first public appearance as a couple.”

You made a face alongside George.

“No… we wouldn’t want that… not at all…”

✧☽────•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆

The gala was bustling. Rotwell’s was flaunting a new hall they had built recently, a temporary centrepiece to the room being a large fountain that was probably meant to be some sort of vase but ended up looking like an urn overflowing.

Standing at the entrance nervously, you felt George’s hand slip into your own, and you tilted your head in silent question, to which he’d shrugged and simply said, “Looked like you needed it.”

You smiled gratefully and began walking in, greeting a few people you only sort of knew and avoiding the ones you wanted to.

“So, what’s the plan again?”

“Lockwood wants us to schmooze, basically. Find out what the top agencies are interested in. Personally, I want to know what technology is coming out soon.”

“Course you do, babe.”

His eyes flicked to yours briefly before focusing ahead once more.

“So…” You started nervously, “Who to speak to first?”

“Rather the devil you know?” He answered, and you saw him nod his head to the left, which made you turn and see Quill Kipps walking straight for you.

You smiled at the offending man before turning to your date and whispering, “Great…” smiling wider when you realised that George held back a snort of amusement.

“Fancy seeing you two here tonight. I don’t suppose Lockwood’s here.”

“He’s around somewhere. Why d’you ask Kipps?”

“Oh, nothing.” He was pretending to be distracted. That much was obvious. “You look good, by the way.”

That was not what you were expecting. You could feel George wrap his arm around your waist, the palm of his hand warm on your hip, and you could tell that the action wasn’t unnoticed by the other man.

“I– Thank you, Quill.”

He nodded, then answered your earlier question,

“I’m surprised he’d let you off without a short leash, is all, after what happened last time.”

The last time he was referring to was you shouting rather angrily at someone holding up the line at the toilets, who happened to be an honoured guest of that event. Not your finest moment, and the reminder caused your cheeks to heat furiously.

“Well, he did, something about my George being able to keep me in line.” You smiled fondly at George as you worked your budding relationship into the conversation.

“Not that they need to be kept in line, anyway.” He added.

“Ah, well.” Kipps nodded in faux disinterest before tacking on, “Never thought someone would go for you, Karim. But I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures.”

George opened his mouth to retort, but you interrupted before he got the chance,

“Excuse you? What did you just say about my boyfriend?”

Quill seemed genuinely surprised at your aggression, floundering to come up with a witty remark as you continued.

“I’ll have you know that your failure to recognise his brilliance is going to bite you in the arse one day. He is more caring, more funny– more intelligent than you will ever be.” You turned to George, who was wearing a similarly surprised expression, “C’mon love, let’s go speak to someone who won’t behave so rudely.”

And with that, you pulled him off to somewhere secluded, shadow barely disguising the two of you as your own expression slipped, revealing your nerves. “Was that ok? I didn’t push it, did I?”

“No, no, you were great. Very believable…” He trailed off, “Did you really mean that?”

“What? Of course, I meant it. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

He nodded wordlessly, not making eye contact. “Well, it definitely started the rumour mill. At this rate, we’ll be in one of Lockwood’s gossip columns by the end of the week.” You followed his eye line to see Kipps speaking to another agent and glancing at the pair of you, and you groaned, resting your head on George’s shoulder.

“Should we put on a show for them?” There was something about the way he said it that you knew meant trouble.

“You’re starting to sound like our fearless leader.”

He huffed at that, but you could tell it wasn’t without humour.

“Just trust me, yeah?”

You moved your head and looked into his eyes.

“I already do.”

He pulled you until your back was against the wall, and his back was to the crowd. His face was so close now. Had he always had a freckle there? It was so cute… Oh please, please don’t be thinking he was cute right now. You made eye contact, and he smiled reassuringly, murmuring, “Trust me.” His expression went serious once more before leaning down and kissing just below your ear, causing you to make a small noise of pleasant surprise. You felt his lips curve into a smile when he kissed you lower against the side of your neck.

“George.” his name came out more breathily than you had hoped. Another soft kiss, barely grazing the skin this time.

“Yes, angel?”

“I think. I think you’ve made your point.”

“One more for good luck.”

Surprising you with his boldness, he kissed you again before standing up straight and reverted to his usual awkward forwardness.

“I, um, didn’t want to kiss your lips in case that wasn’t alright with you, first.”

“So you… kissed my neck?”

“It’s more intimate than kissing your cheek.” He said as a way of answer.

“True.” You conceded. “And for future reference, I’m ok with kissing as long as you are.”

He nodded but didn’t continue, turning around to the sea of people and searching for the other members of the agency.

“Should we see what the others got up to? Hopefully, they spoke to someone better than we did.”

George did a thin smile before turning back and saying, “I think I can see Lockwood and Lucy.”

“Lead the way.”

As you walked behind him, you couldn’t help but gingerly raise a hand to touch where he’d kissed you last.

“So, how lucky have you two been?” You asked the other couple, and Lucy smirked.

“Not as lucky as you. I saw that.”

“Saw what?” Lockwood asked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Those two necking it in the corner.”

“What?! And you didn’t point it out? How could you, Lucy? I thought we loved each other.”

“I’ll have you know those were tactical kisses.” George butt in.

“Yes. Kipps was rather rude, and Georgie here was displaying gratitude for me defending his honour.”

Anthony grimaced at the mention of the other agent but brightened again, “Defended his honour?”

“Apparently, I’m caring, funny, and intelligent.”

You were either on fire or just embarrassed.

“Why’d you go and tell him that? Now he’s going to get a big head.”

“Bigger than yours?” You quipped, and Lucy smiled. “And it’s true, anyway.” You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Hence us ‘necking’ in the corner,” George added. “More fuel for the gossip train.”

“Besides, it’s not like getting kissed was terrible.”

“Oh really?” Lucy raised a brow at you, and you silently tried to blow her up with your mind and then yourself for bringing it up. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw George studying your face.

“And it’s good for our cover.” You deflected, watching her eyes glint as a silent reminder that this conversation was not over.

“You didn’t happen to bring makeup with you, did you?” Lockwood asked, suddenly distracting you.

“Uh, no. Why?”

“Just that ol’ loverboy may have overdone it.”

At that, you slapped a hand over your neck, “George Casper Karim, did you give me a hickey?” You hissed. Surely you would have noticed, and Anthony was just ribbing you.

George rubbed his neck awkwardly, “I– maybe? I couldn’t tell ‘cause we were in the dark, and now you’re covering it.”

You turned to Lucy and Lockwood with pleading eyes, Lucy shaking with repressed silent laughter.

“He staked his claim.” That was all you got out of her.

Hesitantly you removed your hand and tilted your head to George in resignation.

“Oh yeah, there it is.” He brushed two fingers over the tender spot so casually, in a way that melted your insides had you not been so mortified.

“George!”

“My bad,” he added apologetically.

Lockwood smiled ruthlessly. “Well, now there’s no doubt about who’s dating who.”

“This is maybe the most embarrassed I’ve ever been.”

“I thought the kissing wasn’t so bad.” Lucy teased.

“It wasn’t, but now I’m going to have to cover it up to leave the house.”

“Or don’t.” George shrugged, and you looked at him. That, combined with the continued hold around your waist was definitely another thing to file away, even when in a fake relationship, George was a little possessive. “‘S not the worst state anyone’s ever seen us in.”

“But what if Arif asks?”

Anthony and Lucy stared at you quizzically. Silently asking, ‘That’s what you’re worried about?’

“Just tell him I gave it to you.” he paused as if remembering that the circumstances weren’t exactly common, “For a case.”

You nodded defeatedly.

“I suppose.”

“Besides.” George had that look in his eye. “You’re the one that liked it.”

Causing the others to laugh as you swatted his arm.

“And you didn’t? One more for good luck?” You reminded him. And he smiled in a way that had heat stirring in your belly.

“I think that was the good luck one,” and he touched the side of your neck again before letting the arm fall to his side. And you struggled not to react so visibly that the others would tease you for it, avoiding Lucy’s eyes specifically.

Something in the air tonight was making George cheeky and touchy, and it was turning you into a swooning damsel. To combat this, you rolled your eyes at his smile, turning to your friends and wrapping an arm around George’s as a tether at the same time.

“But really, did you find anything out?”

“Not much, no,” Lockwood answered.

“He’s lying. Someone from Fittes said that Satchell’s is going to be coming out with some kind of iron tape so that we can do perimeters easier. But that’s still in development.”

Your focus drifted in and out as she recounted what they’d learnt, Lockwood and George’s infrequent additions sometimes catching your attention as you gazed at the closest reflective surface you could, trying to catch a glimpse of the lovebite he’d given you.

“Hello? Is anybody home?” Lucy was waving a hand in front of your face.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I asked what you’d thought of going to the archives with George and me tomorrow, research some of that case I was just talking about.”

She’d been talking about a case? Oops.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, I think I’m just more tired than I realised.”

She looked at you suspiciously but ultimately relented. “Ok. I’m about done for the night, too. Lockwood?”

“I’m more than happy with how tonight’s turned out. I’ll have to figure out how we can use you two to get more cases.”

You looked at George worriedly and saw him reflect your expression.

✧☽────•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆

The cab ride home made you realise how overwhelming the gala had been, even in the short time you’d been present. When you’d gotten home, you’d changed almost immediately. You truly were tired of being there, at the very least. And damn it. You were getting all worked up again thinking about earlier. You closed your door, too distracted to notice it didn’t click shut as usual.

Whilst you had changed out of the dress and bra, you couldn’t be bothered to change out of the underwear, vowing to properly clean yourself in the morning and into your comfiest pyjamas. The night was warm enough for cotton shorts, a loose top covering your torso.

Thus faces your new dilemma.

Trying to calm yourself and focus on something other than the sexual tension so suddenly evident between yourself and George without acknowledging tonight’s event, which is precisely how you ended up with a hand in your pyjama shorts.

Your hands moved lower, under the lingerie Lucy had so graciously gifted you— fuck, don’t think about her right now.

You bite your lip to stop a whimper, panting heavily as your fingers move against you as you try to recall the way he’d repeatedly placed an arm around you possessively tonight, the warmth of his hand against your hip still being fresh in your memory.

Vaguely, you could hear footsteps in the hallway, trying to be quieter as you continued to work yourself and resuming once you thought you heard the footsteps fade.

Your eyes squeezed shut, imagining it was George’s between your legs.

Maybe you’d be able to run your hand through his hair and see how soft it was for yourself as he went down on you.

Moaning softly as you tipped your head back onto your pillow, exposing the very neck he’d kissed earlier, and if you focused, you could feel his answering smile against the column of flesh.

“G.. ge-“

You couldn’t bring yourself to finish stuttering out the whisper of his name, trying to imagine what his touches could have been if you’d both not been fully clothed. Wishing that you hadn’t stopped him earlier to see truly how far he would have gone.

The sound of your door swinging broke through your thoughts, your hand stopping as you paused, opening one eye slowly to see George leaning smugly against the doorframe. Your legs clenched together.

“No, please, don’t stop on my account.”

You let out a long, low groan, sliding your hands out of your shorts and rolling over to hide your burning cheeks in your bed.

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

You groaned again. This was beyond embarrassing. It was humiliating. Sure, he’d been in various states of undress around you. But that was just normal stuff, coming out of his room not wearing pants, he’s done that around everyone, and he certainly hadn’t been caught pleasuring himself by the person he was jerking off thinking of.

“You. You should’ve knocked. You can’t just come in!”

George huffed a laugh, “Your door was unlocked, and you weren’t answering. I wanted to see if you needed anything washed to go to the archives tomorrow.”

He paused, apparently intent on enjoying the moment, “But it seems you need a hand with something else, don’t you, angel?”

You would have to move to another country. Wales could always use agents, right? Surely? Maybe there you could find some other hot guy to pine over and hope he gave you his affection. Because this was getting to the point of mortification.

George chuckled, and you heard the floorboards creak, then felt the bed dip down. Your eyes widened where you were hiding your face. Was he sitting on your bed?

“I take back what I said earlier, this is officially the most embarrassed I’ve ever been.”

“Look at me, please?”

Slowly, you turned your head to face him. His expression was unlike anything you’d seen from him yet, he looked like he was going to eat you alive.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. We all do it.”

He said matter-of-factly, and despite yourself, you nodded.

“Even you?” You wrinkled your nose and made a face of mock surprise, which had him wryly looking at you.

“I’m not going to answer that.” He said, moving further up your bed, gesturing for you to sit up.

“What are you doing?” Your eyes narrowed as you watched him, face still hot despite him assuring you.

Surprisingly forward tonight, George hummed. “Well… clearly, I interrupted you while you were doing something you needed to finish.” He paused, readjusting your pillow. “And I’d really like to help you finish. If that’s alright with you.” One of his hands touched the bare skin on your thigh, watching your reaction for any hesitation.

“That’s alright with me.”

It was astounding how quickly your embarrassment had snapped back into arousal.

You shuffled closer to the centre of the bed, and he slotted himself behind you. His legs wrapped around your own as he pulled your torso so that your back was flush with his chest.

You swallowed hard.

“Are you sure, angel?”

“Yes. Please.”

His face was just beside your head, above your right shoulder. Gradually, his hand snaked underneath your shorts, a soft “Wow,” escaping his lips as his fingers grazed the dampness of the underwear covering you.

You rested your head on his shoulder, exposing your neck again, which he rewarded by peppering it with kisses and soft bites.

His other hand moved to touch the soft skin underneath your shirt, and you could feel your breathing increase rapidly. This was real.

“Were you thinking of me?” He spoke so quietly you almost missed it, and you whimpered. “Hm? Were you touching yourself while thinking of me?”

“Yes.” You responded, already feeling lightheaded under his care.

Beside your ear, he inhaled sharply. “All this just thinking of me?” He seemed in awe.

“Yeah, Georgie.” You confirmed.

He shifted his hands to pull the shorts down and kissed your neck in a way you knew it left another mark.

Briefly, he felt the material of your underwear again, running his finger along the underside of the elastic.

“These feel special.”

“They’re— Lucy got them for me.”

“You were wearing lingerie tonight?”

“You knew that she was buying lingerie?”

“Yeah? She asked me what colours you liked, and I… prodded.”

You didn’t know whether to focus on the fact that he had known what she bought you, or that he had informed what it was that was bought, or even that he knew what you liked to the point of being consulted.

“If it’s anything, thank goodness you didn’t tell me.”

“Huh?”

“We wouldn’t have made it through the gala.”

You turned to look at him and realised he was being serious. His desire to see you in them would have been made into his most recent obsession.

“M— maybe I’ll put the set on for you some other time.”

He smiled, moving your shirt collar so that he could kiss your shoulder.

“I’d really like that, sweetheart.”

His hand slipped into your underwear, mimicking your earlier motions of collecting from between your moist folds. His fingers slid back and forth a few passes until you whined impatiently.

“So wet,” he murmured. “I think I can get you wetter.” He whispered against your ear, a promise.

The pad of his middle finger drew slow circles around your clit, and the hand in your shirt moved upwards to gently knead your breast, causing your nipples to stiffen.

“Oh, George.” You sighed pleasantly, and he groaned quietly in response.

“Have to be quieter for me, love. Not that I don’t want to hear you, just that I don’t want the others to as well.” He increased the pressure, and you fought back a moan, “Think you can do that for me, angel?” and you nodded quickly, not trusting your ability to speak at the moment.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praised.

You didn’t even remember how he’d ended up on your bed, embarrassment lost under his skilful hands.

“Please.” you whimpered, hips squirming against him, his fingers moving faster against you. Simultaneously, he rolled the nipple in his hand between his fingers, causing a low whine to slip through your lips.

“Shhh, that’s it, love.” He nipped at the skin of your neck softly, soothing it soon after by placing soft kisses against it. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You turned your head, wanting to see him even if it was through half-lidded eyes.

The sight of him had you sucking in a quick breath; his eyebrows pinched together, mouth slightly ajar, and cheeks reddened. His eyes had that look in them again, which you were quickly realising was something akin to heat or desire. George looked almost blissed out as he focused on giving you pleasure.

You released a soft moan, panting as he continued, and his brow creased further. His eyes snapped shut as he listened to the broken noises you struggled to suppress, causing you to realise that he was getting off on this. He was enjoying making you fight not to make pleased little noises, the evidence of the effect of him on you. You wanted to kiss him desperately.

Your left hand moved sluggishly upwards, hesitantly cupping his cheek, and you gently traced your thumb down the cheekbone. His eyes flew open, and he turned slightly so that his gaze landed on your face. Fuck, he looked so good. He raised the same brows you had been observing earlier in silent question, and you felt yourself growing shy despite the circumstances you were currently in.

“Mm?”

You bit your lip, still gently tracing the shape of his cheek and being partially distracted by his actions. Tentatively you moved your face closer to his, lifting slightly off of his shoulder and tilting your head for a better angle. Your gaze kept flicking to his lips, then back to his eyes. He licked his lips, readjusting slightly so you could continue forward more comfortably.

“Please?” You whispered, and he nodded.

Your lips barely connected at first before moving ever closer, George finally understanding your earlier wordless begging and further uniting the two of you. Urgently you tried to convey your feelings for him in this– possibly single– kiss. The hand that was on his cheek was now against his jaw, fingers playing with the hair peeking out from behind his ear. Your other hand now came to a loose grip around the wrist that was down your shorts, taking pleasure in just feeling the rotation before falling to your side again.

You moved back to take a breath, his hand that was under your top moved around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could feel him hard against your back. Then, it moved to join his other hand under your underwear, avoiding the wonderful movements made by his fingers, rubbing along your folds, and a moment later, you felt one of his long fingers pressing into you, both testing and teasing. A pleased sigh slipping out of him as he realised how easy it was for him to move in and out of you before he added another finger, making your jaw go slack as you fought off the noises he was willing to escape.

He took that reaction as an opportunity to kiss you deeper, lips moving languidly against your own, drawing soft aborted moans from you.

You pulled back again to look down at yourself, his tan arms against your skin, shirt ridden up from his earlier touching.

Breathlessly, your gaze shifted to his face again and whimpered, “George.”

He looked into your eyes and smiled. That had your heartbeat quickening, the butterflies in your stomach causing your orgasm to approach more rapidly. His smile grew as he felt you clench down on him.

“Just for my smile?” He looked pleasantly confused. And you groaned against him.

“Y’r so pretty.” You slurred against him, lust-drunk. “‘S not my fault.”

He hummed in amusement.

Your eyes fluttered shut, hips moving against him as his fingers pumped in and out of you, his others working just as relentlessly against your clit. Shuddering as he kissed just below your ear, where it connected with your jaw. Breathy whines became quiet needy moans, and you couldn't help but tilt his head so slightly to press your own kisses to the side of his mouth and cheek.

“So good to me. Y’r so good t’ me, George.”

And you heard him groan in response. Once again, you clenched in reaction.

“Let go for me, angel.” He murmured, softly biting where he could reach. “I know you’re close. I can feel it.”

He was right, you were close. His warmth pressed against you, combined with his hands and the kisses and bites he had been determinedly leaving on your throat, had you just at your tipping point.

He increased the pressure of his fingers, angling the others just so, and you couldn’t help but moan at it as your back arched.

“Geo— Georgie.” You whispered, the pet name sounding all the more affectionate in your haze.

“Let go for me, please? I’d really like to see it, love.”

And you did.

His odd fascination with you spurring him to continue his ministrations in order to draw it out as long as he could, watching your face contort, and your chest rise and fall, not stopping until you shook in his arms.

Slowly, he removed his hands from your shorts, leaving you to recover in his embrace.

Your mind was completely devoid of comprehensible thoughts, face angled into the crook of his neck as you regained sentience after the mind-numbing orgasm he had just gifted you with. You kissed at the skin there, the pair of you sighing contentedly at the feeling.

You felt him shift behind you and started to awaken further from what felt like a very strange but very good dream, and you realised what had just happened between each of you.

He has just caught you masturbating to him, and instead of running for the hills, he… did that. You had let him— invited him to do that. You must have stiffened against him because he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“You… caught me in a private moment and stayed, is all.”

“Mm? All of which I thought was quite nice.”

You frowned at him, but you knew he could see you didn’t mean it.

“‘S just odd. That’s all.” Then, quieter as you looked away, you added, “I didn’t know you even liked me.” And he scoffed, drawing your attention once again.

“I lay into you like a vampire in public, and you didn’t think I liked you?”

“Well, when you say it like that.”

He shifted, and you felt the bulge of his hardness against your back again. He had gotten hard just getting you off. Your eyes widened as he stuck the two fingers he’d just been fucking into you inside of his mouth. His eyes shut briefly, and you saw his cheeks hollow as he sucked your arousal off of his fingers.

“Oh, that’s trouble.”

“How do you mean?”

“You taste really good, angel.”

You inhaled sharply, a second wave of lust washing over you, and he opened his eyes to do that small, knowing smirk at you, the same one he did when he knew something you didn’t, which was often.

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest.

“I’d like a repeat of this if you don’t mind.”

You rolled your eyes fondly at him. “You just reduced me to mush, and you think I wouldn’t want that to happen again?”

He huffed a laugh, gently nudging you to get you to flip over and lay properly onto him, bringing his hardness back to the forefront of your mind.

“Do you..?”

“What? Oh, no.”

You deflated slightly.

“As lovely as that would be, angel,” he continued, “I’m knackered, and I want your energy up for tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow? Besides the archives, I mean?”

“Oh, didn’t you know? You’re feeling kind of feverish, so I have to stay home and look after you, and would you please go with her, Lockwood? The archives can be terribly boring when you’re alone.” He was smiling at you as though recounting a funny story, and he pulled blankets over the pair of you, so he was planning to stay the night, it appeared. Or at least until early in the morning when he woke.

“George, are you trying to get me alone tomorrow?”

“Yes. Wasn’t that obvious?” he deadpanned, and you couldn’t help the fond smile in response, and you hummed instead of answering.

“Besides, if not tomorrow, I’ll find some other way to hear those pretty noises you make while you’re under me.”

Your cheeks burned, and you buried your face under his jaw.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I certainly hope not, I don’t want to experiment on your ghost.”

“That was almost sweet?”

“I meant it.”

You were just dozing off when he broke the silence.

“Why angel?”

“Hm?”

“Your pet name, why an angel?”

“Oh.” You moved to get more comfortable now that you were more aware of your surroundings again. “It reminds me of you.”

He waited for you to continue, not letting you out of that so easily.

“Do you remember the time we went to Arif’s together? The grocery boy had left out some things, so we decided to pick up doughnuts on our way home.”

“Last summer?”

You nodded against his collarbone.

“And when we were walking home, and I dropped it for some reason–”

He cut you off, silently adding, “A bird flew right in front of us.”

“And I got so surprised I dropped it,” you amended, recalling the bird now, too. “But I tried to catch it and went tumbling into the pavement?”

A faint exhale of a laugh came from above you, and you knew he was laughing at you even now.

“When I looked up at you, the sun was right behind you and…” Suddenly shy, you drifted off.

“Yes?” He prompted.

“You were laughing, and I couldn’t find myself to care because the sun was behind you. It lit up the edges of your hair like a halo, that’s why. It’s… I really like that memory.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I… may have asked Lockwood to stay home so I could take you instead. You’ve liked me since then?”

You laughed suddenly, surprising yourself. “We’re totally useless. Probably longer– I bet if I asked Lucy to take Anthony instead of us tomorrow, she would. She’s probably sick of me pining.”

“She’s got no ground to stand on. She and Lockwood were way worse.” He complained.

“Yeah?”

“And I had to deal with it alone.”

“But not anymore,” you said softly. “You have me now.” and he hugged you tighter to him. “We might have to buy me a scarf, though.”

“Oh, definitely. Don’t let them see tomorrow, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

George Casper Karim was unbearable.

His big stupid head still told you off for taking the biscuit, but now it would bend down and kiss you softly too.

And he still was so helpful, but now you could really see how he picked favourites and was secretly incredibly pleased he chose you, even if it meant investing what must count as an industrial-grade concealer so that his dutiful ironing was the only thing that made an impression on the client.

But now, he was even sweeter. His touches lingered and were more frequent. He still wouldn’t touch the others as openly, but your space and his space soon became shared. He was unbearable.

He still rolled his eyes as you tried to find a nickname of his very own, admonishing you with a heatless “Angel.” but you knew, you just knew you’d find the perfect fit one day.

He made your world spin, and you couldn’t help but always feel warm, safe and happy with him.

Which, without your knowing, was infectious. Spread to him like a leaf unfurling.

You were unbearable.

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #locklyle #george karim #smut fic #i might do another but dont get your hopes up #george karim x you #george karim x reader

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nataliasquote · 7 months

Text

Ghost Of You | n romanoff

Summary: learning to move on after Natasha’s sacrifice is the hardest thing in the world

Warnings: mentions of grief, loss, Natasha’s death

wc: 3.2k

note: this is an old fic I wrote ages ago, but I used to love it. I’ve given you enough fluff now anyway… also inspired by the song ‘Ghost of You’ by 5SOS.

- ⧗ -

Four months.

It'd been four months since she died.

Four months without Natasha.

And Y/n keep telling everyone she was fine, but there was a part of her that kept saying that her Natasha wasn’t really gone.

And it's the irrational part of her brain.

But she missed that redhead more than anyone knew.

Words couldn’t begin explain how much she missed her.

It was painful. It felt as though the world had come crashing down, plunging everything into total darkness. And when there was light, colour ceased to exist. Because what was a life without a purpose or reason to live?

Her sun. Gone.

Her home. Gone

Nothing left except harsh reminders of what could have been. There was no future anymore. Y/n spent her days in the past, tangled in memories that were wearing with age. A distorted version of her reality that became harder to grasp with every day that slipped by. The memories were slipping through her fingers, no matter how hard she tried.

Yelena was left to pick up the pieces her sister had left behind. A crumbled widow, her whole life a subject of loss, yet somehow she remained an iron fortress throughout it all. Y/n was family, something Yelena didn’t have much of, or knew much about, but she would be damned if anything happened to her now. She wasn’t sure she could handle another loss.

Y/n had taken residence in her spare room, the barren walls now burdened with grief. It settled across the floor like an unsettling blanket, smothering all who dared to step foot over the threshold.

But Yelena soldiered on. It was down to her to pull Y/n out of the pits she had crawled into in her mind, and today no different. The door creaked from lack of use, the room’s darkness only broken up by the light spilling around the old curtains. A body lay curled up in bed, but the blonde knew she was not asleep.

Against her instincts, Yelena made sure her boots were loud on the exposed floorboards, alerting the jumpy woman of her presence. She crouched slowly, a hand reaching out to land on Y/n’s knee softly.

"You ok?" She asked, receiving no movement or change of expression. Y/n’s eyes were heavy, but not with lack of sleep. This tiredness extended further than that; a tiredness of life. “Y/n, it’s me.”

A mumble came as a reply, which Yelena took as a positive. Some days received absolutely no recognition, so a sound or nod was progress.

“Any idea of what you want to do today?” She probed again, moving over to the curtains to draw them back slightly. Y/n winced at the light, another good sign. The outside air was cool and a welcome refreshment as the Russian pushed the rusty window open a fraction.

“Bed and sleep,” came the reply. A possible plan, yes, but not exactly what Yelena was thinking.

“How about we go somewhere today?” Y/n didn’t look convinced. “Natasha would want you to, you know that.”

“Don’t say her name!” Y/n cried, her voice breaking from lack of use and raw emotion. She refused to mention Natasha anymore, too afraid of what was lying just below the surface if she did.

But something had switched in Yelena overnight, and she turned around quickly. “She was my sister. I have every right to say her name Y/n.” That was clearly the wrong thing to say, but what did she know? Yelena had barely been out of the Red Room for two years. Social cues weren’t a strong suit. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just know she wouldn’t want you moping around grieving her like this. She would want you to go out and live your life. See the world.”

"How can I see the world when she was my world." Y/n whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks and soaking into her pillow. "I loved her but never got to show her properly. There is so much more I could have done for her. If I'd just had more time." Yelena crouched down and helped her sit up, offering a tissue to clean herself up a bit.

"I have a suggestion for you. I was talking to Wanda yesterday and we think it might be a good idea if you go back there."

Y/n looked up at her with red and puffy eyes. “Back where?”

“Back home, Y/n. The apartment that you and Natasha shared. You’ve still got lots of your stuff there and I’m sure there’s some things of hers you want.”

Y/n had stopped listening at the word ‘home’. Home wasn’t a place, it never had been. It was a feeling. A person. Y/n would never be able to go home anymore. An empty apartment ridden with memories wasn’t somewhere she wanted to be. Not without Natasha to breathe life into those four walls. Without her it was just dark. Lifeless.

Just like how she felt right now.

Yet her response was surprising. An “ok” tumbled past her lips before she could even register what she was saying, taking both her and Yelena by surprise. She leaned against the wall and pulled her knees up to her chest, staring at a dark spot on the duvet cover.

“Ok? I’ll be there the whole time, don’t worry. How about I give you some time to get ready and I’ll meet you out by the truck?” Y/n nodded, her eyes not moving, and Yelena took that as her cue to leave.

A shower felt like too much work, so Y/n dragged her hair into a ponytail and let it hang limply, too exhausted to try and do anything with it. The yellowing light in the bathroom only emphasised her dark circles and she eyed her make up bag that sat balanced on the edge of the sink.

Concealer barely helped, as did mascara, but Y/n tried all the same, almost willing herself to look better. If Natasha saw her in this state she would have crumbled, but she wasn’t there so Y/n couldn’t find it within her to care.

Placing her mascara back in the bag, her fingertips brushed over a familiar tube. She pulled it out and stared at it carefully, the writing old and faded on the packaging. But there was no mistaking Natasha’s favourite red lipstick. She refused to use any other shade and it always looked so vibrant against her pale skin. But looking at it now, it just looked so dull.

Y/n pressed her lips to it gently and slipped it into her pocket, where it nestled alongside a folded photograph and a promise ring.

Natasha’s promise ring. The one she used to wear alongside her wedding ring. The wedding ring that matched the one currently strung around her neck, too obnoxious to stay on her finger now.

Their key to everlasting happiness.

But what good was a key on its own? Useless without its matching component, a harsh reminder of what could have been but never will be.

Yelena was sat in the back seat of the truck with Fanny, giving the Akita belly rubs which he clearly loved. She looked up at Y/n and smiled, climbing through to settle into the drivers seat. “Fanny doesn’t know the meaning of stay yet, so I’ll bring him along. But he won’t come inside.”

Y/n nodded, and placed her elbow on the window edge, her cheek falling into her palm. The gentle hum of the engine combined with the smoothness of the road pulled her back into her head, memories swirling around but never fully making themselves known. Y/n was in the muddy middle ground, somewhere between numbness and a breakdown.

After an hour the car came to a stop. She knew this parking lot. Knew which space Nat always kept her bike in. She was always so particular.

Holding the key tightly in her fist, Y/n ascended the metal stairs, ignoring the way the rough edges of the key dug into her skin and left an imprint. She knew how to wiggle it into the lock just enough to get it to turn, muscle memory taking over.

As she opened the door, the living room was dark. A light layer of dust covered all the surfaces from the lack of use, and small slits of lights peaked through the closed curtains. There were books piled on the table and a couple of old beer bottles stranded on the floor. Y/n looked around in a daze, completely absorbed by the change of atmosphere. This place used to be so full of life. But now it was dull and barren.

Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes glanced to the floor. By the door, like they'd just been taken off, was Nat's pair of old converse. They were once black, but now sported a dark grey colour, having been worn so often. She wore them everywhere when she wasn't working.

Y/n bent down and picked them up, looping the laces over her fingers so she could easily carry them with her. The kitchen door was open, so she carried on walking, almost in a trance. Yelena hadn’t entered yet, wanting to give her some privacy in her old home.

The kitchen was brighter as the blinds were open, and everything was just as they had left it. A pile of clean dishes on the rack, just waiting to be put away. Nat's collection of weird keychains that she collected from every place she visited. A pile of hair ties and bobby pins that always disappeared. But most importantly, the fridge.

It was used more like their main photo album. Photos covered the silver metal, miscellaneous magnets holding photos of the couple onto it. There was a picture of Nat kissing Y/n on the beach, the first date we ever went on as an official couple. Even in the one captured moment, you could see how tender Natasha was, cupping Y/n’a face with her rough palms like she was a priceless jewel. Looking at it, she could still feel her touch.

There were a few candid ones from their trip to Europe and even some from their wedding day. But the one in the middle made her heart ache.

Nat laying on a picnic blanket in the park, her hair pulled back in a half up messy braid. She was lying on her stomach with a book open out in front of her, legs bent up behind her with those damn converse on her feet. She had the biggest smile on her face and she was laughing into the camera. Y/n remembered that day so vividly and she started to cry. She could never feel that way again, so happy, so relaxed.

"Damn it!” She yelled, slamming her hand onto the counter and taking a shaky breath in.

"Y/N?" a voice questioned, breaking her out of her mini outburst. Y/n quickly turned around to find the source of the voice, which was coming from the door way. The shoes fell out of her hand as she layed eyes upon the woman stood in the doorway.

Red hair was the first thing Y/n noticed.

Arms wide. A big smile on her face.

Not wasting any time, she ran into her open arms and felt herself being picked up, bodies spinning around like they always used to do. Both women were both giggling and smiling at each other, tears running down their faces.

"Oh my god you're actually here! I thought you left me" Y/n cried, grabbing onto Natasha’s face and planting kisses everywhere. Her nose, cheeks, jaw, everywhere she had missed being able to feel beneath her fingertips suddenly felt so real and she could sense the weight being lifted off her chest. It just felt right.

"I would never leave you baby." Natasha said, before their lips met in a bruising kiss.

"I knew you wouldn't. I knew you'd come back for me!" Y/n couldn’t help but laugh against her lips, the worry and sadness leaving her body, making her lighter. There were truly no words to describe it, but feeling Natasha’s lips on hers and her green eyes bringing so much warmth and safety into her body, Y/n never wanted to leave again.

Music started playing softly and Nat looked at the girl in her arms. "Can I have this dance, my beautiful wife?" She wrapped her arms around Y/n’s waist, who placed hers loosely around her neck as they started to sway. She didn't know where the music was coming from, but she didn't care. All thst was in her brain was the fact that she was here with Natasha. Finally.

They danced to the music, waltzing around the kitchen, eyes fixated on each other. Y/n felt as giddy as she did when they shared their first kiss, her hands feeling the way Natasha’s hair was so soft as it brushed her fingertips. The way her hands felt on her body gave Y/n a sense of relief and she sighed, resting her head on Natasha’s shoulder. She leaned her head on top of her wife’s and wrapped her arms tighter around her waist, still swaying to the beat. They fit together so perfectly, like a key in a lock.

"I've missed this." Y/n muttered into Natasha’s neck who hummed in agreement.

"Me too" she husked. God, that voice. She’d missed that too.

As the song picked up, Nat released Y/n from her arms and spun her around, twirling her around the floor like a ballerina. The redhead scooped her up in her arms and spun around, their laughter filling the once empty room. Y/n was taller than Natasha when Nat picked her up, so she gazed down at her and grinned, the same look adorning both of their faces. Love. Admiration. Relief.

As Natasha slowly lowered Y/n to the ground, they met each other with another kiss. The song slowly faded away in the background and they gradually stopped moving, but stayed in each other's arms.

"I see you found my converse?" Natasha pointed out, and Y/n turned around to see where she was looking.

"Oh yeah. I picked them up because I didn't know you were here." She couldn’t help but blush.

Natasha bent down and picked them up, handing them back over with a soft look in her eyes. "You keep them. They look better on you anyway." She said, flashing her signature smile.

"Are you sure?" Y/n asked, her brows creasing in the middle. “These were your favourite shoes!"

"I can always get some more if I need them."

Y/n looped the laces around her fingers once more and pulled Nat into another hug, just breathing in her scent. There was no perfume to distract her, just purely Natasha. Tears started rolling down her cheeks as the familiar scent she knew and loved filled her nose. The smell of home.

They finally pulled away and Natasha took a couple of steps back, leaning on the door frame as she had done previously.

"You know I love you Y/N. I always have and I always will. Don't you ever forget that." She said, folding her arms and smiling at the woman in front of her.

"I love you too,” Y/n whispered and Natasha blew her a kiss.

"Y/n?" Another voice called from behind her. It was Yelena this time, the blonde having waited for long enough outside. She placed a hand on Y/n’s shoulder and followed her gaze to where Natasha had been stood.

"I love you" Y/n muttered again, tears streaming down her face.

"Y/n who are you talking to?" Yelena asked, worry lacing her words.

"Nat. She's right there." She said, pointing to Natasha in the doorway.

"What? Detka, Nat's not here. What are you talking about?" Yelena asked. Y/n turned around to face her and then looked back to where Natasha was standing.

Or where she was standing. Except now that spot was empty.

She wasn’t there.

"She was there! She was just there! No!" The girl was in distress, shouting and crying as she ran around, checking everywhere in the apartment.

"Y/n what's going on?" Yelena asked hesitantly, her concerned increasing by the second. What had she missed?

“She’s gone! Nat left! She left me again! No, she promised she wouldn’t leave me again.” She was a sobbing mess, collapsing to her knees in the middle of the apartment, no longer caring about the dust that thickly coated the floor. Yelena rushed to her side and knelt down, pulling her into a hug. She rocked the sobbing girl gently, tightening her grip as she felt Y/n clutch at her shirt to ground herself. She was muttering frantically, incoherent sentences flowing into each other.

"Y/n, Nat's gone. She isn't coming back." It was harsh, but Yelena had to say it. The truth stung.

"She was just here." Y/n whimpered. "We danced together. I felt her. She was real!"

"Oh Y/n. That wasn’t real."

"It was real to me!" She pressed her head back into Yelena’s shoulder and continued to cry, laboured breaths dragging themselves through her constricted lungs, clawing at her insides and almost begging to break through her chest.

And the whole time those stupid converse were in her hand.

She never let them go.

They were the last thing Y/n ever got from her.

The only thing close enough to serve as a final reminder.

Of Nat.

Her Nat.

Natasha Romanoff.

Daughter. Sister. Avenger.

Wife.

#natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x you #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson #yelena belova

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 3 months

Note

Hi my lovebug for the kink requests can I please request; Billy Russo - Naked woman, clothed man & size kink? I have no other plot requests 💕 thank you so much!

Thank you so much for requesting! I rewrote this three times, I don't think it's any good but I hope you like it.

Masterlist

No pressure tags @danzer8705 @tortilla-chips-and-allioli

Climbing on the Cabinets

Contains: Size kink, naked woman clothes man, fingering, oral sex (m receiving) P in V, mild fluff.

1.3K words

Billy doesn't bother changing before he returns home from work, and it makes for a wonderful afternoon.

Billy had this horrible habit of forgetting that you couldn't reach the cupboards that he could, sure nothing you really needed or used every day was out of reach, but God forbid you needed something you used once in a blue moon. Today, it was the fancy rolling pin with plastic rings around the edge, and your inability to reach it meant your plans for pie were slowly falling apart.

"Need a hand?"

You flinched, and Billy chuckled. "How are you so fuck quiet?"

He shrugged and walked behind you, stretching his hand and picking up the rolling pin before placing it on the bench. When you spun to admonish him, you were greeted by the sight of his battle fatigues, his sidearm strapped to his thigh and all. "Did you come straight from an op?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I didn't feel like going back to Anvil." That wasn't like him, he always came home back in his suit or his simple PT gear unless something went wrong, but he was far too relaxed for that. "What?"

You shrugged. "I don't know.." You didn't know what words to use, he was a lot of take in, between the dark colours, all the weapons and his imposing height, it was hard to think. "Your outfit is a lot."

The bastard grinned in response. "Yeah, you like it?"

You blinked, he was an imposing man at the best of times, but dressed like this, he was downright intimidating. "If you were on my security detail, I wouldn't be scared of the bad guys."

He looked down at you quizzically. "That was a very diplomatic answer."

You nodded. "Yes, if I say I like it I'm worried your head might get so big it will explode."

Ever the charmer, he didn't let that get to him. "I wake up to you every morning gorgeous, ain't nothing more of an ago boost than that."

He wrapped his hand around your upper arm and yank you to him, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger before leaning down to kiss you. His hands moved to push your dress off your shoulders, and he smiled against your lips before pulling back to take in your bare skin. "I fucking love these fucking sundresses you wear."

The dress was stripped off and left in a heap on the floor as he led you towards the couch, his hand in yours and a smirk on his face. He sat down and pulled you with him, running his hands up and down your thighs as you settled on his lap. His deft fingers unhook your bra, and then his large hands were grabbing your breast as he groaned. "I fucking love you."

His lips sealed around a nipple, and you gasped out a reply. "Are you saying that to me or my boobs?"

"Both." You wove your hands into his perfectly quaffed hair, and he sighed as you scratched his scalp. He tapped your thigh, wordlessly asking you to pop up so he could slide your panties down your legs. He looked you up and down, his face filling with lust as he slid his hand from your waist to your mouth. He rubbed his thumb on your lower lip, and his eye twinkled. "Suck."

You took his thumb into your mouth, and you felt him harden under you as you locked eyes with him. He popped his thumb from your mouth and slid his hand down your body, smirking when your eyes fluttered close as he made contact with your clit. The fabric of his pants was rough against your skin, and you could feel the indents one of his many holsters was leaving on the back of your thigh. He leaned in close, his lips finding your neck as he worked you towards the peak. Two long fingers circled your entrance before sliding inside you, and his teeth worried at your neck while your hips started to rock against his hand.

You swore you could feel the ridge callous on his trigger finger as he massaged your G-spot, but before you could fall into ecstasy, he yanked his hand away and sucked his fingers into his mouth with a smirk. "I want you to suck my cock." You scrambled to get on your knees as he stretched his long arms out to lay them on the back of the couch, looking down at you like a king on a throne. You rushed to get him out of his pants, slowing at the mess of straps and loops and closures that made up the fabric on his lower body.

He grinned and dropped his hand down to help you, placing it right back over the couch as you pulled him free. His head fell backwards onto the cushions as you took him into your mouth and grunted out your name as you lowered your head further down him. You could feel his gaze on you, and you looked up at him through your lashes as you pulled away. "Are you going to stare at me or are you going to fuck me?"

He pulled you up by your upper arms, and with a large step and a smooth, fast movement reminiscent of the way he would grapple with the Anvil trainees all be it much more loving, he had you bent over the arm of the couch. He kicked your legs apart, and you felt him run his cock up your slit. "You're so wet for me." He didn't give you a chance to reply, sliding home in one practised thrust as his lips fell on your upper back.

You dropped your head down, the air knocked out of you each time he bottomed out as he picked up the pace. His fingers skated from where his palm was flat on the middle of your back to your clit, and between his immaculate pace and the orgasm he had denied you before, it wasn't long until you could feel the end nearing, and he knew it. "Come on sweetheart, give it to me."

Your back bowed, and he pressed his clothed chest to you as his beard scratched your skin while he kissed the back of your neck. A moment passed before the waves of pleasure hit, and he groaned like you were squeezing the life from him as his pace faulted. He uttered your name like a prayer, and his hips stuttered with his release as you relaxed into the couch arm. He pulled away, running his hand down your back on his journey to tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up. You heard rustling, and his vest hit the floor before you pushed yourself up and spun towards him. "That was fun."

He smiled and brushed away the hair stuck to your face. "It was. You good?"

You nodded. "I will be if we can cuddle for a while." He took your hand and led you to the couch, grabbing the blanket off the back and wrapping it around you as he gathered you in his arms. "You wanna tell me why you didn't stop at Anvil to change?"

He sighed and rested his cheek on the top of your head. "We had some NFL player come in wanting to hire Anvil for a party and I didn't want to play nice with a guy who kicked a ball for a living."

"Ahh, I see." You held back a giggle and took his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips and placing a kiss on each of his knuckles. "Well, his lose is my gain."

He grinned and took your face in his hard, pecking your lips with a smile. "I love you."

You rubbed his nose with yours and kissed his cheek. "I love you too."

Fin

#billy russo #the punisher #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #billy russo smut #ben barnes #the punisher fanfiction #billy russo x #billy russo x reader #billy russo/reader #billy russo x you #billy russo/you #sp's kinkfest pick and mix

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hopepetal · 1 year

Note

Boagem,,,,

Hi Bee applestruda I totally agree

––

Autumn came, and with it came a pleasant chill in the air and large, fluffy clouds carried by a lazy breeze. Leaves turning to fiery colours fell from the trees to the ground, adding a delightful crunch to the ambient sounds of travel. Five pairs of feet walked over the leafy path, one in particular stopping by a stand-out patch of purple-blue. Scarred hands gently plucked one of the late blooming lilacs, a grin lighting up dark green eyes as they examined the flower.

“Scar!” Impulse's voice, cheerful and hearty, called out. “You comin', man?”

Scar straightened up, eyes blowing wide open at how far away the others had gotten while he was picking flowers. “Hey! Guys, wait up!” He jogged up to the group before settling back into a casual pace. “I can't believe you were just gonna leave me like that!” he jokingly complained.

“We still can!” Grian chirped, “it's not too late!”

Scar stuck his tongue out at Grian, who made a face back. Scar huffed playfully at that, crossing his arms. “Well, if you're gonna be like that, I'm not gonna give you these flowers!” he teased, watching Grian's eyes widen.

“Give me those!” Grian squawked, trying to grab them from Scar's hand. Unfortunately for him, he was short and Scar was not, so the taller man simply held them above his head.

“Say pleeeease~!” Scar sang out, letting out his little breathy chuckle, a bouncy sound just as signature as his crooked smile.

Grian crossed his arms, glaring playfully up at Scar. “May I please have the flowers, Scar?” he asked, and Scar gracefully nodded.

“Here you are, my good man!” Scar exclaimed, handing the flowers to Grian with a flourish. Grian snatched the flowers and took a moment to admire them before tucking them behind his ear, nestling them carefully against the feathers of his ear wings.

Mumbo laughed, looking Grian up and down. “Looking great, G. Really adds some colour to your outfit,” he teased, and Grian smacked him with a wing.

Pearl turned around, already laughing. “Alright ladies, break it up. If we want to get these apples before fall is over, we gotta pick up the pace and stop it with the infighting.”

“I'm not going to listen to you!” Grian quipped, and Pearl picked an apple off the tree and threw it at his head. He dodged, of course, but she made her point well enough. “Okay, Pearl, void! No need to be so violent! Absolutely crazy, that woman,” he muttered playfully to Mumbo and Scar.

They made their way through the rows of apple trees before deciding on one. Pearl handed Impulse her bag before carefully climbing up into the tree, going higher and higher until she had practically disappeared into the leaves. “The best ones are at the top!” she called, upon hearing Impulse's confusion. “Right, Impy– catch!”

Impulse yelped as Pearl threw an apple down to him, just barely managing to catch it before placing it in the bag. “I don't know how I feel about being the catcher!” he called up to Pearl, “I feel like this is just an excuse to try and hit me in the face with apples!”

Pearl cackled, giving him no real answer as she threw another apple down for him to catch.

Meanwhile, Grian had decided to try and hop up onto Scar's shoulders in order to get the apples that were higher up. Of course, in his classic Grian style, he hadn't informed Scar of that decision beforehand, leading to the two almost falling over. Mumbo laughed at them as he picked his own apples by hand.

Impulse did, in fact, get hit in the face with an apple. Only once, though. Grian and Scar ended up eating more apples than they put in their bags. Mumbo's head sprout accidentally grew an apple that Scar dared Grian to take a bite out of, much to Mumbo's horror.

They ran into Tango and Jimmy on the tail end of their apple picking adventure, and of course Grian tried stealing an apple from Jimmy.

“Don't you dare!” Jimmy snapped, smacking Grian's hand away. “Tango worked so hard to get these for us!”

Tango squeaked, his tail flicking back and forth. “Hey man, I was just– I was just doin' my job, y'know? Climbing trees is fun, too. I don't do it often.”

Pearl gestured at Tango, looking at Impulse. “See? He gets me!”

Impulse rubbed the sore spot on his forehead where he had been beaned with an apple. “Yeah, well, Tango isn't dropping apples on Jimmy's face!”

Pearl snickered, her wings fluttering slightly. “That was an accident, Impulse!” she exclaimed, though the tone of her voice made it very clear that it had been on purpose. “And! And, I apologized!”

Impulse grinned. “Well, you're not forgiven.”

Tango sucked in a dramatic breath through his teeth. “Ooooh, that's rough. Impulse over here holds a grudge like no one else, y'know. He never forgets.”

“I'm still mad from the time you set my pants on fire,” Impulse grumbled.

“That was ten years ago–!”

Jimmy grabbed Tango's arm. “You did what?!”

“Ten years ago!” Tango yelped, and the whole group devolved into cackling laughter.

They said their goodbyes and went to go pay for their apples, and by popular demand, bought some fresh cider donuts as well. The group sat at one of the tables outside, happily munching away at their donuts and chatting about their most recent adventures.

It was a wonderful fall day. The first of many yet to come.

#answered ask #knights of the angst table #my writing #boatem #pearlescentmoon #grian #impulsesv #mumbo jumbo #gtws #also ranchers show up

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harmeu · 10 months

Note

omg you write for tcgf!!! your work is so good! would you consider doing pei ming, shi qixan, my qing and feng xin reaction to their (god/dess but non-martial god) crush getting hurt protecting them?

A Scar Opened

(TCGF Characters React To Their Crush Getting Hurt Protecting Them)

(GN!Reader)

Tw: Blood, Cursing

Pei Ming:

The infamous womanizer Pei Ming. He is known for sleeping with women, making them love him, then brutally dumping them with no remorse whatsoever. (At least he pays child support.) You from the moment you walked in hand him on a hook. You weren’t a Martial God but were still a God that got his attention greatly.

Oh he just wanted to make you his. You being aware of his so-called title brushed his advances away. But you would be lying to yourself if you said you hated him completely. Pei Ming also got desperate.

He found out what he was feeling wasn’t lust but love. He loved you. He had a crush on you. He still hasn’t accepted it and is trying to remove this so-called “crush” by hanging with even more women.

You both were in the main palace of the Emperor Jun Wu talking about a future mission in the mortal realm you two had to do until something caught your eye.

A spear blowing fast through the air about to hit Pei Ming. His back was faced to it and he seemed oblivious till you pushed him away causing you to get scarred on the chest. Blood dripped and slid down.

Pei Ming was mortified as he realized the situation and quickly checked where the spear came from.

“What in the heavens is going on?!” He yelled in a pissed off tone but concern was evident for you.

“T-this is kind of painful.” You utter out clutching your chest tightly.

“Shit.” Pei Ming mumbled and picked you up bridal style rushing you to a nearby medic. “Were you protecting me?” His eyes softened.

“Didn't want you getting hurt, you know?” You smile weakly.

“I won’t let this happen to you ever again. I’ll slaughter the asshole who did this.” He looked down holding you tightly.

Shi Qingxuan:

(Male Form)

The Wind Master, Shi Qingxuan. Known for his outgoing personality and bubbly appearance. First time you met them was on a mission you two got assigned together. Ever since then Shi Qingxuan had developed a crush on you.

He didn’t know why. Your beauty? Your personality? Your kindness? He doesn’t know. Though wherever you go he will cling to you like a little bat. It's cute and annoying at times.

“Oh you're going? Lemme come with!”

“If you're heading that way, so am I!”

“If you're in I’m in!”

Adorable really.

How did things go wrong today?

You two were making small talk and then from the corner of your eye you saw a pillar about to fall onto Shi Qingxuan. You couldn't save the both of you so you pushed Shi Qingxuan hard away making him yelp while a piece of the pillar slashed your arm.

Blood poured to the floor as you panted in pain.

“W-whats going on!?” The colour drained from Shi Qingxuans face as the situation slapped him.

“A pillar..hah..broke.” You were out of breath from the sudden attack on your arm and fell backwards till Shi Qingxuan caught you throwing you up into a piggyback ride.

“You need medical attention. Stat.” He said sternly, holding onto your legs tightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck trying not to fall.

“It’s..ow.” You mumble burying your head into his shoulder.

“Shush! No talking. I can’t believe you did that for me.” He smiles to himself but then goes back to strict. “I swear when I find the person who did this they won't ever see the light of day ever again.”

Mu Qing:

(God Form)

General Xuan Zhen, Mu Qing. He’s known for being an amazing Martial God as well as an amazing medic. (Two in one ig) He’s hard to approach from his rude personality. Though he isn’t really rude just closed off and thinks other emotions are weaknesses in ways.

As soon as you got introduced he had fallen in love with you. The 800 year old virgin actually fell in love. What a surprise to say. Though he believes that love is just a level higher than hate. Everytime you speak to him he gives you short and rude answers.

Though in reality he absolutely adores it when you talk to him. Keep talking to him. No matter how much he disses. Continue. He also glares at others who talk to you.

He’s jealous.

You were complementing Mu Qing on his skills, making him blush furiously.

“Are you making fun of me?” He says with a hiss. Though before you can respond you see a blade breaking through a window heading for Mu Qing. He couldn't see it since his back was faced to it and you quickly pushed him hearing him curse.

The blade instantly slashed your waist making you cough in pain and shut your eyes.

Mu Qing’s eyes widened in horror as his teeth clenched in aggravation.

“Who the hell did this?” His eye twitched as he got up and went to you to see how bad your wound was.

“Ouch. It hurts.” You say quietly.

“I know it does. Bare with me.” Mu Qing being a medic began healing you with a yellow glow cursing under his breath.

You hugged his arm softly, clearly not in a good state, making Mu Qing tense, then soften up and stroke your head unconsciously.

“Can’t wait to find the insect who did this.”

Feng Xin:

(God Form)

General Nan Yang, Feng Xin. Known for his heated temperamental problems and great strength as a Martial God. He’s more on the aggressive side and will not hesitate to harm the bad. (Or people who piss him off more than they should be) This man does not look like one to have a crush but that changed when you joined.

His heart began beating faster and his face flushed as he kept looking at you. Though sadly like Mu Qing he tends to be rude when you talk to him. Though when you catch him off guard he’ll just freeze dumbfounded while a huge blush creeps up on his cheeks.

He loves you deeply but won't admit it. At least he hasn’t gaslighted himself into thinking he just hates you a lot.

You were trying to ask Feng Xin about questions on Ghost City but he kept saying that he shouldn't tell you anything.

“Why should I tell you? What's in it for me?” He mumbles irritatedly but was secretly happy you were talking to him. You, having good hearing senses, could hear glass shards and looked up to see it falling. About to fall onto Feng Xin.

You couldn't pull Feng Xin from the immense power difference and pushed him, making him create a confused face till his face dropped as the glass shards sliced your arms repeatedly.

“Ow.” You say to yourself looking at the blood pooling down your arms like a river.

“What the fuck just happened?” Feng Xin says going to you and grabbing your arms roughly.

“I-I don’t know. Someone must have messed with the glass sculptures.” You wince as the pain got greater.

“Tch.” Feng Xin mumbled and picked you up like a potato bag gripping your thighs hard so you wouldn't fall as a blush made its way to your face.

“Is this necessary.?” You mumble.

“Yes.” He says holding your thighs even tighter ears going red.

#x reader #fluff #cute #romance #heaven official's blessing #tcgf #gender neutral mc #feng xin #mu qing #pei ming #shi qingxuan #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #blood #injury #crush #womanizer #tw cussing #tw blo0d

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hazshit-hotel-hater · 5 months

Text

Velvette Redesign! (2/3)

Prev: Vox Redesign (1/3)

Im madly in love with her, I am so happy with her design🩷🩷

I cannot take all the credit for the outfit though, my friend helped me pick out the style and accessories, I just did her hair and picked the colours! It was really hard to actually settle on one thing to show Velvette, I never draw her in the same outfit or with the same hair, so picking a singular outfit and hairstyle as her main was a big commitment, felt like I was buying my first house

Anyone that just flattens and straightens Velvette’s hair is seriously missing out on so many fun hairstyles I have literally never drawn her with the same hairstyle ever. Textured hair is so fun I will die before I stop playing with her hair!! She is a fashion doll it’s the whole point !!!!

I wanted her to be a sharper contrast to Vox’s harsh-ish symmetry he has going on. The Vee’s are still not good people in this rewrite obviously. They’re not as dogshit as they are in the show but they still actively do terrible things. Velvette still verbally abuses her employees and enjoys seeing other people’s downfall or seeing them scared and under her control; she just doesn’t make a fucking date rape drug. I still have no idea why Vivzie is so set on making all of them connected to rape in some way it’s fucking disgusting to me. Anyway, I want Velvette to look very fun and unassuming in comparison to the other two where you can kind of tell there’s something up with both of them. Vox is very stern looking and Valentino is… like that. You’ll see. She is arguably the most approachable out of the Vee’s but is still just as manipulative as the other two when she wants to be.

Her hair is very cute and the theme of hearts around her style unintentionally makes Vox the only one out of them that doesn’t have a heart motif. I mean— unless you count his medical alert bracelet, but that’s not really… a fashion statement.

I love studded belts and all that and purses and bedazzled jeans and platforms so this design really has it all for me. The playboy bunny thing is supposed to be painted on btw, she’s not just super tanned I promise. The same ideas for her colours with her clothes still remain from my last post about Velvettes design.

Onto her backstory! This was all graciously written by my friend so please give him a big thank you for it or I probably would’ve died🩷

March 2nd 1974, Velvette grew up in a mostly stable household. She went to school, got what she wanted, made friends, grew up, passed her GCSE’s and so forth. She did a course in design and beauty, and eventually made her way up to be a fashion designer. That being said, Velvette was always someone with an attitude. She didn't enjoy the amount of fights she got in, but it naturally occurred. Her grades were fairly good enough though— B’s and C’s. Each day of her life she enjoyed what she did, and heavily adored the attention she got for her beauty. Her creative side was what she preferred, much rather than showing off her looks. She was deemed to be the best employee and got multiple raises in payment as she worked her way up the power—pyramid in the company she worked for.

But that being said, what she received was unfair to other workers. Nepotism was a huge part of her promotions and rise in payment. Her friend who she knew was the owner, and that only paved routes for short-cuts. As long as she was able to keep everybody hush-quiet, she’d always have her way. She always would benefit, and she’d always be the best.

Velvette was aware of her misdeeds. At one point, illegal means crossed her mind, like stealing other people’s work and accusing them of serious things that got them fired. The owner would never bat an eye, and everyone was conscious of how nobody was truly safe. It was like her friend was obsessed with her to be the one who came out victorious, and by even the slightest chance she was in any way suspicious, it was blatantly ignored. There were also reports of people dying if they spoke out about the company, however those were only confirmed as rumours.

Never did she plan to stop. She’d come so far, and had become successful in what she dreamed of. Her care amounted to nothing if there was something to gain. All throughout her life, she was a troubled person with a great intelligence— which is why she was able to exploit so many people and get away with it. People called her the ‘vile jasmine’ of the world. People were afraid to step into work and see her, because one day, they were certain they’d be her next target.

July 25th 2005. Her final few minutes of her life. Velvette was a fashion designer, and could sew pretty well. It’s not like she had TERRIBLE ideas, she just took pleasure in stealing and having other’s wince at their misfortune. But alas, Velvette was known for her interest in dolls. She could design outfits for them, without having an audience to watch and judge. A display stood behind her desk of many different dolls, and she had just ordered some materials that were waiting for her to come pick them up. It was at that moment, when she closed her front door, that fate was sealed.

A serial killer had been roaming the streets of her city. No one knew who, or where, but he had definitely not left. With flip phones being the new way to communicate easier, Velvette had been texting with the buyer and talking about the perfect dates to meet up. As she was waiting in her room that Monday, the confirmation to go had excited her. She drove to the destination, and knocked on the door with a falsified smile. If only she had stepped a couple steps back after knocking— perhaps she would’ve survived.

Appearing in hell was overwhelming, as much as it was satisfying. She was dead, yet somehow alive. As she looked at her hands, she discovered skin was not present. Pure silicone… and tattered clothing. From there, she decided she’d start again… and work her way up within four years until she was noticed and recruited by two other sinners whose name coincidentally began with the letter V.

She met Vox and Valentino in 2009, and from there, they grouped together and planned to dominate hell itself.

Key facts

Velvette is biologically still 31, however if you were to count hell, she’d be 49.

She hasn't gone through any abuse, she is no victim, she’s just a morally wrong character.

Does not care for her employees health or anything, and will only be nice if she is able to benefit.

Could be considered a sadist in some form.

HURRAY!!!!! This is the last enjoyable one of the Vee’s you’re getting considering he’s next. Also the last guaranteed redesign at the moment! I love joint efforts like this and I hope you all can enjoy it as well🩷

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leggerefiore · 6 months

Note

Apologies if you’ve already covered this topic.

Can Zekrom!Ingo and Reshiram!Emmet transform into the Dark and Light Stone respectively?

I can easily imagine a scenario where either one or both of them are so badly injured that they have to revert back to their stone forms, and you’re stuck looking after a pet rock (or two) until they’ve re-awakened.

Bonus points if they’re able to sense what’s going on outside the stone, so they recognize your voice if you talk and can feel when you hold them.

Thanks!

cw: pokehybrid au, dragon twins, poly, fluff

pairings: Ingo/Reader, Emmet/Reader

It was truly remarkable… While Emmet was certainly the type to enjoy battles and flexing his terrifying draconic powers, Ingo was not. But, somehow, both of them had been damaged so badly by an attack that they had to withdraw into their dormant stone forms. You held the two stones close to yourself as you brought them back to the “palace” in which they had started refurbishing properly. The stones were placed carefully within a bowl in your room as you debated what to do.

You had heard stories about them taking on these forms, as had most Unovans who cared about the weird dragon gods that just took over the rail system with little question or objection. But, there was no mention for how long they would remain like that. You picked up the Light Stone and gazed at it. This only happened when their bodies were destroyed… Seriously, what had happened to them?

And why was it surprisingly heavy? You sighed and sat down with it in your lap. The surface was smooth with only three indents seemingly purposefully made. Reshiram... Unovan history – well, more so a legend passed down by the dragon clan, pointed to a time when both dragons had defeated each other in a war and retreated into these forms. It is unknown when they returned to their awakened forms, but it was clear that they had. Otherwise, who was running the subway?

“Emmet…” you spoke quietly to the stone, “… Can you and Ingo hurry up? I'm really worried... What could have almost killed you?” Your finger traced unconsciously into the indents of the stone. A few moments passed like this with little changing. You placed the stone back into the bowl and shifted to holding the Dark Stone. It felt and appeared almost identical to the Light Stone, barring colour. To think this was Ingo… You wished you could hear his long-winded scoldings or see his frozen little frown on his face.

Bringing the stone to your face, you kissed the hard surface. It was cool, just like Ingo's body. Had the Light Stone felt warm? You wondered. Staring at it softly, you moved to place it back in the bowl.

For now, it seemed that all you could do is wait.

You had taken to carrying along one of the stones in a bag whenever you went out and about. It felt nicer to have one of them around, even if it was only in thought. Though, you would like to imagine that taking the Light Stone into a bakery might have done something to awaken Emmet, but it seems that you were mistaken. Nothing had changed with his stone. The same was true for when you took the Dark Stone into the office at the Gear Station. It seemed not even work could tempt a dormant dragon. Though, you had also taken both stones on a train and nothing had happened even then.

It seemed it truly would be the only time that saw their return. Thus was not as reassuring as it could be, seeing as they were immortal draconic gods, and you were one short-lived human. You sighed. Even sleeping with the stones pressed to your chest brought little comfort. Except that it did confirm that the Light Stone did radiate a soft warmth.

You felt impatient and desperate.

Before you could truly lose your mind and climb a certain Sinnohan mountain in madness, however, a certain morning came. In the early hours of the day, a bright glowing light startled you awake and away from the stone tucked away into your bed. The Dark Stone was glowing an eerie blue as it seemed to begin to float within the air without being held up. You blinked as a few bright flashes sparked from it, and then it completely overcame the room in blinding light.

A familiar cry rang out while your eyes were still tightly closed. Opening them, you saw a Zekrom standing on your bed side. His red eyes stared quietly into you before his form began to shift into something smaller and known to you. Ingo blinked and brought his attention to the still unchanged Light Stone. He picked it up while you could only stare in wonder.

“Ah, dearest,” his gaze fell back upon you after holding the stone for a few moments, “… Thank you for watching over us.” His tone was genuine, and he lowered his head respectfully for a moment. You replied that it was nothing, truly. Ingo seemed to shake his head, however. “For you to take us everywhere with you, it was pleasant to remain at your side, even dormant,” he softly placed Emmet's stone in the bowl before stepping towards you. His hands gently held yours.

The smile on your face hurt from how it pulled at your muscles. Oh, you truly loved him. Breaking free of his grip, you instead hugged him. The coolness of his flesh rose goosebumps on your skin. Ingo gently returned the hug, softly resting his head on yours. Unfortunately, still being a dragon, his height was much too tall for most humans to be.

In your hug, with your eyes closed, you hardly noticed the Light Stone beginning to glow a burning orange and quickly imitating what the Dark Stone had previously done. Well, until a Reshiram cry rang out, followed by a normal Emmet whine. Both of you whipped your heads around to see him sitting on top of the broken table and bowl.

“Ingo!!” Emmet cried, “Why did you put me there?! That was verrry mean!!” He covered a small cut from the porcelain having slashed him. Ingo appeared to sigh. The younger of the dragons rushed to you and swept you up in a hug. “He is horrible, darling!” Emmet's voice was soft in your ears as he buried his face into your nape. His wings also came around you and tickled you with their feathers. His wound seemingly healed quite quickly, as most physical damage did.

“… You usually reform before me,” Ingo's stone sounds exhausted, “I assumed it must have been bad this time if you still hadn't formed when I had.”

“I was enjoying myself,” Emmet argued, “I wanted our mate to carry me around a little more.”

You felt stricken. They were… aware? Your gaze drifted to the fluffy dragon. “When could you originally form again?” you asked, wondering when if he could usually reform before Ingo.

“Mmm, when you took me to the bakery,” Emmet tilted his head, “I really wanted to… Those cakes smelled wonderful.”

You felt bewildered by this. Ingo just seemed to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Well, at least they were back now.

(Apparently, the reason they lost their bodies was because they had a battle against each other, and it had got out of hand.)

#pokemon x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon/reader #pokehybrid au

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prazinos · 2 years

Text

Euphoric

Eddie is a vampire.

Eddie, is, a vampire.

Summary ~ You and Steve have been nervous to have sex with Eddie since he came back from the upside down in case you would hurt him. But thankfully Eddie's desperate, and having him suck your blood never felt so good.

W.C ~ 2K give or take.

WARNINGS ! ~ Oral {F&M}| PiV | Unprotected Sex {M&F M&M}| Anal {M&M} | Fingering {F&M} | Blood play? | Mentions of choking {sexy way dw} | Dom!Steve Dom!Reader Sub!Eddie |

'You move I'll kill you' you said pointing a wooden spoon at where Eddie was sat at the kitchen island.

Eddie raised his hands in surrender, opting to eat the left over cheese on the table.

Eddie was a vampire and yes he can walk out in the sun as long as you lather him in a shit ton of sunscreen, and yes he can eat real food, and yes he drinks blood, and yes he sleeps.

But you were still cautious. It had been maybe a month since the events of the upside down and you were really worried about him.

You and Steve were too scared to hurt him during sex which is why you haven't even had any. And you can tell Eddie's getting desperate, like really desperate.

So you and Steve decided that tonight, you were going to surprise him and fuck him.

And you two were pulling out all the stops. Eddie hadn't seen Steve in his EMT uniform, always busy or asleep. And you were wearing Eddie's favourite lingerie set you owned. It was a deep red, one of Eddie's favourite colours on you.

As you were straining the pasta you heard the door unlock and Steve come home. You smiled to yourself, and started plating the food.

Steve walked into the kitchen and you turned around, Eddie still not looking up from the kitchen island, too busy messing with the leftover cheese.

'hello my favourite people' Steve said setting his medical bag down on the chair next to Eddie, kissing Eddie on the forehead.

Eddie acted disgusted, about to say something to Steve until he looked up and noticed what Steve was wearing.

You and Steve both knew how hot he looked in that uniform, the shirt clinging to his muscles around his arms and chest, the pants being tight around his thighs and ass.

you smiled at the flustered look on Eddie's face. His ears and cheeks pink, his mouth slightly open as he looks Steve up and down.

Steve gave him a confused look; feigning innocence before walking around the counter to kiss you on the forehead and help you carry plates to the dining table.

The three of you ate in silence, until you spoke up

'Stevie, how was work?'

'Not too busy, only had to help out a few people' Steve said before taking a sip of water. 'Is it hot? I feel hot' Steve said unbuttoning a few buttons on his work shirt. You heard Eddie choke as his eyes followed Steve's hands.

'Oh sorry that's my fault, I got cold' you smiled sympathetically, knowing damn well you hadn't touched the thermostat.

You saw Eddie shifting out the corner of your eye and you turned your head towards him.

'Eddie are you okay? You're moving a lot' you said picking up the coke you were drinking to hide your smile.

Eddie just nodded not answering you.

You gave a small shrug, and saw Steve smiling slightly. He always liked the effect that he had on Eddie.

You, Steve, and Eddie were all switches. All sometimes needing to give in and submit to each other once in a while. Or need to fuck the shit out of each other. And tonight, you and Steve both knew that you two would be dominant tonight.

You finished eating; as did Steve and Eddie.

'Thank you baby' Steve said cleaning up the plates and taking them to the sink.

You sipped your drink as Eddie shifted in his chair again, obviously hard.

You were wearing a baggy t shirt. one of Steve's, and you moved your shoulder, allowing the shirt to slip and reveal one of your bra clad breasts.

'Shit' you said pulling it back up.

You looked over at Eddie and he was beat red. You finished your drink and walked over to put the glass in the sink. Standing next to Steve, sharing a knowing glance.

What you didn't expect was for when you turn around to see Eddie kneeling in front of you.

'Can we help you?' Steve asked, drying off the last plate as he turned around.

'Please' Eddie said, shifting his hips, his obviously hard cock searching for any friction.

'We don't know what you're asking for Eddie' you said with a shrug.

'Fuck me' Eddie begged.

You folded your arms, smirking slightly at how disheveled Eddie looked.

'I don't know Eddie, we could hurt you' Steve said, putting his hands on his hips.

'Besides what's got you so worked up anyway?' You asked.

Eddie looked practically anywhere but your guys' face; 'well um, just Stevie in his uniform, and he unbuttoned it and I saw what bra you were wearing, and it just made me so hard' Eddie said.

'Poor baby' Steve said mockingly.

'He has been well behaved today Steve' you said, making Eddie perk up slightly.

'Alright, well, let's just see if he still has it in him' Steve said.

Eddie practically leapt up from the floor; running upstairs to the bedroom.

You and Steve giggled a bit, wanting to make him really desperate and needy, you both drank another glass of water slowly.

After about ten minutes, you both decided Eddie had waited enough. Agreeing that if he was touching himself you would punish him instead of pleasure him.

You both took your time walking upstairs. You shed the long shirt you were wearing as Steve took of his shirt.

As you walked into the bedroom, you saw Eddie in literally nothing. He was laying on the bed, gripping the sheets with so much force you think he may tear them.

His cock was an angry red, precum leaking all the way down his cock. And as you and Steve approached bed, Eddie looked hopeful, his eyes scanning over your bodies, more precum leaking out his tip.

'What do you want baby?' you asked.

'I-um, I want- I want Steve to suck me off' Eddie said nervously; Steve smiled, climbing over the bed. You took a seat in the chair in the corner of the room, removing your panties.

You watched as Steve allowed a glob of spit to land on Eddie's cock, Eddie whimpering at the feeling.

Steve wasted no time putting Eddie's tip in his mouth, Eddie bucking his hips slightly as Steve sucked on his tip.

You started touching yourself to the sight, Eddie's moans filling your head, watching his hands reach down and tug at Steve's hair. Something that made Steve moan around Eddie's cock causing Eddie to buck his hips into Steve's mouth

'Fuck!' Eddie moaned throwing his head back.

You moaned as your fingers reached your clit, Eddie's head snapping towards you and moaning out as he watched you play with yourself

'Shit-Stevie I'm gonna-fuck-come!' Eddie groaned. Steve doubled down on his efforts and licked a broad stripe from Eddie's base to his tip. Eddie's breaking point was when Steve brushed his thumb against Eddie's nipple.

You watched as Eddie moaned out, his head being thrown back, cum shooting from his cock.

You got up from where you were sat, unclipping your bra and walked over to the bed; lying down next to Eddie, kissing his neck, sucking on the spot that makes him groan.

You cover Eddie's neck in hickies; you hear Steve open the bedside table and then hear the pop! from the lube as Steve opened it.

'Sweetheart' Eddie groaned. You look up at him through your lashes. 'I just-I just need to taste you. I haven't in so long' he whimpers.

you smile as you move to straddle Eddie's chest. Eddie grabs your ass moving you towards his face.

You hover over his face and Eddie grabs your thighs pulling you onto his mouth.

He immediately moans into you as you throw your head back. Your moan high pitched as it slips from your throat.

You grind your cunt against Eddie's face and a moan comes out of him, vibrating your clit. You look behind you to see Steve fingering Eddie's tight hole and Eddie's cock standing erect again.

You get off Eddie's mouth and he whines in response. You look behind you again to see Steve lining up with Eddie's hole. You scoot back and line your cunt up with Eddie's cock.

At the same time you and Steve moved. Eddie nearly screamed at the pleasure that was filling his entire body.

You started bouncing on Eddie's dick as Steve thrusts roughly into Eddie.

You lean down kissing Eddie's neck. And feel as Eddie reaches down to rub at your clit.

You moan against his neck and bounce harder on his cock. You were so close. So, so close.

You heard Steve's grunts of 'shit-oh fuck-god so fucking good' and it only spurred you on.

You felt Eddie's eyes boring into your neck, clearly being able to hear your fastened heartbeat due to his heightened senses.

'Do it' you moaned into his ear.

'Wh-what?' Eddie asked nervously.

'Do it, drink my blood baby boy' You said.

You felt a quick sharp pain in your neck before feeling your blood being slowly taken from you. And then you felt euphoric.

Eddie drinking your blood gave you the same feeling as when he or Steve choke you. Then it got even better, as Steve reached forward to grab your tits and play and pinch at your nipples.

Almost immediately you clench around Eddie's cock; your orgasm overwhelming every nerve in your body.

Eddie comes shortly after. The taste of your sweet blood and you clenching around his cock was too much for him.

You heard Steve groan behind you, clearly having come inside Eddie.

You got off Eddie, exhaustion filling your bones.

'Baby no, don't go to sleep yet' Steve said cradling your face. You felt a cold wet towel at your cunt, and you whined, trying to get away from it.

'I know honey' you heard Eddie say.

You then felt a water bottle be held to your lips and you drank out of it tasting what seemed to be pineapple juice. You drank maybe half of the bottle and then pushed it away.

You opened your eyes although they were heavy and saw Eddie reaching towards your neck you could see the worry in his eyes and you smiled at him

'I'm okay Eddie. It felt good; really good' you murmured.

He smiled sweetly at you as he climbed in next to you. You felt his arms wrap around your waist and felt another warmth on your back and felt another pair of arms wrap around your waist.

The sun was blearing in your eyes and you didn't feel the warmth that you were used to beside you. You whined and got out of bed. Looking at your vanity and seeing the mark Eddie left on your neck; you smiled at the mark and heard movement downstairs.

You quickly put on just a T-shirt, being too lazy

You practically skipped downstairs you felt so good. And when you entered the kitchen the sight before you had you panties wet again.

Steve was pinned against the kitchen counter, his hands bracing on the counter behind him. His hair thrown back and moaning. He had his plaid Pyjama pants on but his cock was out and Eddie was in front of him stroking him off, while clearly sucking on his blood.

You watched as Steve's moans turned into whimpers and he came on Eddie's hands and stomach. Thankfully missing his black sweatpants.

'Boys' you spoke. Their heads snapping towards you. Steve took long strides towards you and picked you up, kissing you passionately.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and he took you and placed you on the kitchen counter. Steve bunched your T-shirt around your hips and got on his knees; Eddie moving next to him and doing the same.

Wait, were they both going to-oh!

You felt both of their tongues on you, Eddie focusing on your clit and Steve plunging his tongue in and out of your pussy.

You placed a hand in each of their hairs and moaned loudly.

'Shit, Steve, Eddie! So close' you moaned. throwing your head back and grinding on their tongues.

You felt somebodies finger-you were too lost in pleasure to figure out who's- enter you and curl upwards into the spot that made you see stars.

You came around their tongues, riding their faces as you rode out your high.

'Fuck that was a way to wake up' you sighed.

How was that Bozos. I think it was pretty alright. I still cannot get past 2k words which is like annoying but whatevs I'll keep trying

#steve x reader #babygirl steve harrington #steve harrington #steve x eddie x reader #eddie the freak munson #eddie my beloved #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x steve #steddie smut #steddie x you #sub!eddie munson #stranger things smut #stranger things

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