#awkward reader

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 1

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem) A/N: I don't know what I'm doing here, I'm not even much of a DC fan, but Jason Todd has quickly become my latest hyper fixation character (Harley Quinn too, do I just have a thing for Joker victims???) so ... thank you for giving me a place to put this energy I guess! 😂 I'm not super confident on the characterizations, but I'm going with it because I like it. If it's wildly ooc ... that tracks, given that the only DC comic I've read is Batman: Wayne Family Adventures. Read it, or don't, I just needed to get the thoughts out of my head. The art doesn't belong to me, but the writing does. Please do not post elsewhere!

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, starting out fluffy, will probably get NSFW later so minors DNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

word count: 1.7k

Chapter Selection

In a city known for its masked fighters, you learn pretty quickly that everyone and everything is a potential threat. Every approaching stranger on the street, every loud sound behind you, every dark alleyway. Being bigger than me certainly isn't a prerequisite to being a danger, but it does have a way of setting off my mental alarms. I've found that big men are used to getting their way, and they get all sorts of bent out of shape if you deny them their wishes. Especially when they think they're doing you a favor.

It died down a bit after high school; I learned to exist in public with ‘fuck off’ stamped across my face. Headphones on, reading a book, intentionally seated at the table furthest from the other cafe patrons. All the typical signs of someone who wants to be left alone; nothing about me said ‘please come talk to me'. So I was understandably on edge when I noticed someone standing by the chair across from me. I look up just a bit, gesturing to the chair with a nod. Silent consent to take it back to his table and leave me to my book.

No such luck. The man simply smiled and mimed taking headphones off. Putting a bored look on my face, I moved one off my ear. “... Hm?”

“Hi! I'm sorry to bother you, but my brother thinks you're really beautiful and is refusing to come tell you himself.” 

I could feel my expression turning to stone. “... What is this, middle school?”

His cheerful grin faltered ever so slightly; “hey, I know it's a bit silly, but he's awkward around cute girls, so what's a brother to do, ya know?”

I stared him down; “... You're not fooling anyone. Move on.”

“... Sorry, ‘fooling anyone’?”

“It’s not funny, it’s not even hurtful the 20th time, it's just annoying. Go. Away.” It was a lie; it was always painful to be on the receiving end of these pranks. But that was what these guys wanted, so I wasn't going to tell him that. My headphones back in place, the guy slunk away.

Ten minutes later, another person was standing by the chair. I pretended not to see him, continuing to read my book, until he plopped down in the seat. I looked up slowly and he smiled, another oddly warm smile, leaning forward on his elbows.

An incredibly put-out sigh later, I slid the headphones off one ear again. “What?”

“Hi, I'm Tim! I'm not sure what exactly my brother said to you, but I wanted to let you know - we're not trying to prank you or something. Our brother is just way too awkward with girls. It's painful to watch, really, so we figured we'd give him a hand.” He spoke much too fast for me to get a word in. I blinked a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“... You frat boys are really committing to the bit these days, huh?”

“Huh? No, really, I promise!”

My headphones were nearly back into place when a child showed up. His impatient expression matched how I felt about the whole situation. “As usual, Drake, your plans are far too convoluted to be effective. Watch and learn.”

He turned to me, nothing about his demeanor changing; “hello. Todd said we shouldn't bother you because you ‘clearly want to be alone’, but I am convinced the only way to stop their nonsense is if he comes over. May he have a moment of your time?”

Frowning a little, I stared at the kid. He stared right back, neither of us blinking for a solid minute as we sussed each other out. His expression barely changed, but the boredom in his eyes turned into determination. “... Well, you're definitely not a frat boy. So I'll make you a deal; you may report back that he has permission to come say hi. If he doesn't choose to, that's the end of this little charade. And if either of them” I gestured to the one sitting at my table; “comes back over here, I start stabbing. Got it?”

The boy nodded once, and I thought I saw a ghost of a smirk. “You have my word.” He dragged the other man out of the chair by his shirt, pulling him stumbling toward their table. That was when I saw him. The only person at their table who hadn't come over yet. Even hunched over the table he was enormous, probably close to six feet tall; exactly the kind of man I typically avoided. The kid spoke sharply, pointing in my direction, and his head shot up to look in my direction. Even from across the spacious patio, I could see his face turning red. The obnoxious, cocky smirk I was expecting to see was entirely missing; instead he seemed almost confused.

Headphones back on but turned off so I could hear if he approached, I returned to my book. But I only got through a few pages before the first one shouted; “and offer to get her another coffee or something!”

I looked over to see the tall one frozen halfway between our tables, a look on his face like he was considering jumping over the patio fence to get away. His demeanor reminded me of a lost puppy, and I couldn't help the chuckle that rose up out of my throat. I bookmarked my page, set the book aside, and slid my headphones down around my neck. I really thought he was about to bolt until I lifted one hand, curling my fingers to gesture for him to continue toward me.

He stopped short by a good several feet, eyeing the distance between himself and the chair, and took one extra step back. It seemed as if he was hyper aware of just how much he loomed over me; the way he stood was like he was trying to will himself to be smaller, and he kept his hands at his sides. “Um … hi. … Sorry, this is … this is really weird …”

I nodded, watching him. “It is a bit. … Todd, was it?”

“Jay… Jason.”

“Not Todd?”

“Jason Todd. Damian calls me Todd, he thinks using people's last names keeps them at an arm's length…” Jason Todd. The name felt familiar, but I couldn't place why. He continued to ramble about how important tone was in determining whether this Damian kid was referring to you with affection or disdain, and I watched him. He was admittedly very cute; he had a sort of a bad boy aesthetic -leather jacket, dark clothes, a white streak in his hair, some unusual scars on his face and arms-, which juxtaposed interestingly with the gentleness in his voice, bright eyes, and awkward mannerisms. That was actually the thing that made the most sense about this situation; bikers are often secret teddy bears.

“... Jason?”

He looked up at me, one hand sheepishly making its way into his hair. “Yeah, sorry, you want me to go. I'll get them to stop harassing you, so sorry-”

“Actually, I was going to say you don't have to stand the whole time.” I gestured to the chair across from me.

He hesitated, watching me. “... Y- you don't want me to go?”

I smiled softly and shook my head. “Sit?”

He quickly obeyed, a hesitant smile on his face, which was almost immediately hidden by his hand when his brothers whooped from their table. “... God, I'm so sorry … th- they mean well, really, they're not trying to be weird …”

I laughed softly, “it's fine, that's what siblings do, right?”

“... I guess so … I've been sort of … away for a while, but I guess this is pretty standard sibling behavior. … Right?”

“I mean, a little more insistent than mine, but not too far outside the realm of what I’d consider normal.” I shrugged, finishing my chai latte.

He smiled slightly, considering that. “... Hm … um … c- can I get you another?” He gestured to my cup.

“... Sure, I've got time.”

The pleased grin on his face as he looked away to flag down a server surprised me. Then again, everything about him was surprising. Still, no one had ever looked at me quite like that before… 

The server sauntered over, clearly curious about my new companion. Jason smiled brightly; “Hi, can we get another for the lady? And I'll have a medium black coffee, sweet, please.”

Huh. He called me a ‘lady’. Not a girl, or a chick, a lady. That was … also surprising. We chatted for a little while, sipping our coffees, and tried to ignore his staring brothers. He was incredibly awkward, in a sweet, endearing way. I got the impression that he wasn't fully comfortable, but chalked it up to how weirdly this all started. After a while, the first one returned, a small grimace on his face.

I raised an eyebrow; “I'm pretty sure I told the little one that the next one of you to come over was getting stabbed.”

“I know, I know! I'm so sorry, but Jay, we gotta go. Bruce texted…”

That was when it clicked; why I knew the name Jason Todd. He was a Wayne … his death had dominated the news cycle for a week. His miraculous, frankly poorly explained, return was the story for at least two.

He looked, torn, between me and his brother. “Oh … um …”

The man I finally recognized as Dick Grayson leaned forward and fake-whispered, “the words you're looking for are ‘can I have your phone number'?”

Jason swatted him away, blushing bright red; “Seriously, Dick? … well, can I-”

His ears were turning red as I held my hand out for his phone. I added my contact info and, feeling unusually bold, I added ☕💖 after my name while Jason dropped a couple of bills on the table; I smiled a bit, realizing he was leaving enough to cover my first drink for me too. I passed his phone back, enjoying the look of wonder on his face when he checked the screen. The way he whispered my name, like a prayer meant only for god's ears, had my stomach doing backflips.

“thanks … I'll call you?”

“Sounds good. I'm a night owl, so not too early, yeah?”

He nodded eagerly. “Not too early, promise.”

Next ->

[writingrenna]

Brassius x GN!Reader

"A Wandering Mind"

The reader is VERY awkward and is afraid of Brassius rejecting their attempts at getting closer to him. Watch as they catastrophize basic interactions and almost reject themselves!

Reader is gender neutral and a HUGE softie for Brassius. Also, no language will hint at your appearance, the closest being the mention/hinting at that you're an adult.

No mention of what your Pokémon is/are, but you have at least one. Could be a whole team, though!

Tone/Ending: Slight Angst, Wholesome, Open-ended (Brassius is already fond of you, and you two finally talk as friends instead of just fellow fans of Pokémon and the art world. Reader has B A G G A G E relating to not fitting in with the norm/people finding them weird, and Brassius is slightly more vulnerable than usual. Can be seen as platonic or the start of romance)

Warnings: None other than a very socially awkward reader who seems to flip-flop on their confidence in themselves. Also, first fanfic in, like, YEARS, so this is more to warm myself up some #brassiushasmeinachokehold

Words: Somewhere around 6,000

-*-

You watch from afar as the man wildly paces in front of the Artazon Gym. You were thoroughly acquainted with the spiky-haired sculptor, having beaten his gym a while ago, but you still occasionally checked back in to view his latest pieces.

Truth be told, his art fascinated you. Sure, it was very... as he'd put it before, "avant-garde," but it really did tickle your brain in a way you couldn't quite put your finger on. You had always wondered what went through his mind whenever inspiration struck, but apparently, right now, it was a lot.

You took a deep breath before finally taking a few steps forward, wishing to calm the man down and lessen the burden of, well, whatever he was fighting himself on at the moment. You couldn't help but consider that maybe this was just a part of the process. But then again, he seemed truly stumped, even adding a stray hand gesture toward the sky from time to time as he vaguely mouthed something. Was he mumbling? Was he trying to sort something important out? Was he almost done with this "ritual" of sorts? Oh Gods, what if you ended up ruining his flow? You didn't want to be the reason he fell into another depression.

You try to turn back when suddenly, you hear your name called. Freezing in place, you turn back to see him. He was still in the same position he was when you started to make your leave, as if he'd stopped in his tracks, but his head was tilted towards you, an unmistakable smile plastered on his face. You even saw a bit of teeth in that grin.

"Oh! Afternoon, Brassius! I... uh, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, I was just checking back in on the local art scene... y'know..."

You make an awkward hand movement similar to jazz hands that doesn't actually convey anything discernable. Brassius, however, seems to fully understand, sitting up straight(er) and turning his entire body as he strode over to fully greet you.

"Ah, yes, another one of your art tours! I do look forward to these, I appreciate someone who wishes to fully feel the art they're consuming."

You made a small "ah-" noise, caught off guard by his casual confession. He looked forward to seeing you? Like, specifically you?? He didn't seem nervous at all saying it, so you decided to lock that thought away.

"Yeah! I do, um, like, doing that? Um-"

You looked towards the ground, realizing you were too distracted to properly take in and respond to what he said. You really analyzed every little thing this man did, didn't you?

"I-I'm sorry, sir. My mind has been all over the place today."

His smile faltered and fell for a split second. So fast, you didn't even notice as you looked back up at him. But a softer smile replaced his previous beam. He placed his right hand under his chin in deep thought, fidgeting with the whip on his side with the other, something he seemed to do a lot.

"Ah, do not apologize for a racing mind! It was not meant to be restrained. We're all searching for meaning in this big, mysterious world of ours, whether it is through discovery, creativity, or even simply sorting through feelings from within."

Your face felt a wave of warmth as you took in his words. You couldn't help but notice, again, that he seemed... softer? In his word choice there? You'd almost say he got that from Hassel, although you know this is something he personally deals with. Either way, you appreciated his comforting pearl of wisdom.

"Thanks, Brassius." you started, beaming back at him. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

-*-

You sat up the next morning, bleary-eyed and confused. 'What will today have to offer me?' You wondered to yourself as you stretched with a yawn, feeling your whole body shake a little from the unexpected intensity.

"Woah, Ok," you muttered to yourself, suddenly wide-eyed. You were certainly awake now.

After getting ready for the day, you decided to head out. But where? You were taking things slow during the Treasure Hunt. Something told you that letting the kids of the academy have their time in the spotlight would be nice. Plus, you really weren't sure what your treasure would even be. You hadn't really had a set dream even when applying for the academy the previous summer, and you still didn't have an idea of what to do once the fall semester started and you were already accepted.

But enough of those thoughts, this is a good chance to walk around, let your mind wander. Wherever your heart took you, you'd go, allowing it to take the lead.

-*-

"Ah." You said, looking up at the giant windmill of Artazon in the distance. Of course. 'At this point, it's probably just because it's so close by comparison.' You assume.

You walked forward, glancing around at your surroundings. You see a man ordering toppings at Deli Cioso, an older couple walking along the pathway in the upper part of town, and a little girl staring up at one of the Surrendering Sunflora statues at the entrance with her companion, a Shroomish, but other than that...

You sigh.

Wait, what were you expecting to see...? Ah well, better keep wandering.

As you walked around, you heard hushed whispers. You couldn't help but wonder if it's gossip. Brassius did seem rather preoccupied yesterday. Perhaps he's in the throughs of inspiration? Like, 'Stay up until 3am and wake up at 6 am' type of inspiration? The type that keeps you going no matter what nature or Dialga has to say about it? Yeah. You couldn't help but shake your head at the thought, although an amused smirk crept onto your face as you did so.

You jogged up the stairs again. Mindlessly wandering around Artazon certainly didn't give you career ideas, but it did work up an appetite. You started to make your way over to the Artisan Bakery, craving a jam and cream cheese sandwhich for you and your Pokémon. As you briskly sprinted across town, however, you heard a yelp. This caused you to flinch mid-stride as you stood on the stairs, head whipping around to see what you did wrong.

"Oh no, I'm sorry! L-lemme help you!"

You had awkwardly turned around several times at this point before spotting a man on a bench, who had been staring wide-eyed in your direction. It was him. Your panic was gradually replaced with confusion, however, as he seemed mortified by your presence, even though you didn't do anything... you think? You squinted and tilted your head at him.

"...Brassius?"

His eyes remained wide, breathing still catching up with him, but his posture loosened up quite a bit all at once. His eyelids drooped again as he seemed to gather the courage to speak up, although he dared not make eye contact.

"Ah, I... do apologize, I simply... well, in truth, I truly was not expecting to see you again so soon..."

His eyes were focused on the ground now, shyly looking away. It was then that you realized he was clutching a sketchbook close to his stomach. Oh?? That's certainly interesting, especially since he seemed... so...

Oh, Gods. Would he rather you not be here??

"Oh, I'm sorry! Really, I am! I didn't realize you- I mean, you seem to- I-I'll get out of your hair if-"

"No, no, you are fine, I was ju-"

Suddenly, he grimaced, clutching his stomach. You held your hands up to your ears, yelling in sheer panic, wondering if you had somehow caused this.

"OH! OH NO!! WHAT DID I DO?!? "

"No- nothing, nothing! I- I forgot to eat breakfast this morning," he groaned. "That is all. Do not fret over me. This happens a lot."

You suddenly calmed down, hands slowly lowering before floping down, awkwardly hanging by your sides after momentarily swinging.

"...oh..."

The two of you stared at each other for a good three seconds before you suddenly remembered: 'Oh, hey! I'm hungry, too!'

"Oh, hey! I'm hungry, too!" You said, suddenly beaming as if you didn't just condemn yourself to the 'he hates me and never wants to see me again' zone. Before he could respond, you started back on your journey to Artisan Bakery, but not before asking him to stay put.

"Oh yeah, don't move! I'll be back, I just gotta get some ingredients!"

"But-"

And just like that, you headed off.

-*-

You jogged back to the bench. To your (only mild) surprise, Brassius was still there, although he seemed to angrily mutter a bit to himself, teeth clenched, madly sketching something in his book, which was only cracked open. You wondered what secrets or plans he was guarding, but decided it wasn't your place to ask. Instead, you proudly whipped your backpack to your front, opening it as you walked towards him. He suddenly looked up, scowl upturned the instant he made eye contact.

"Ah! You have returned!"

He snapped his book shut as he said this, face looking oddly neutral, with an undercurrent of enthusiasm.

"Yep! Sorry about the wait. I got a LOT of stuff, cause uhhh, I realized I don't know what it is you... like, actually? So uhh, come with me! We can have a picnic!"

His mind seemed to suddenly go blank, staring at you with a peculiar expression you couldn't quite place. It was certainly a look you hadn't seen from him in quite a while, although you were only really sorta-friends.

"A... a what?? "

"A picnic! Y'know, a taste of that Paldean culture?" You made another weird hand gesture, continuing to make more as you explained your reasoning. "Spreading your stuff out, relaxing outdoors, letting your Pokémon roam free? That way, we can make whatever we like without worrying about getting in anyone's way!"

His face has barely wavered at this point, perhaps the corner of his mouth twitching a little as his gaze quickly darts away and back.

"Plus, you could use a break." You nodded as you said the next bit. "I can tell."

You stared right back at him, awaiting his answer. He seemed... bewildered by your sudden word-avalanche, eyes lightly darting around your face. You could almost see a light dusting of pink on his cheeks as he glanced between you, the ground, and the sketchbook in his lap. Suddenly, a guilty panic settled into your chest.

"Uh- only if you wanna come! Of course? It's really up to you, you know. I don't wanna disturb you or your work or anything."

The look in his eyes finally faded as he loosened the tension he didn't even feel in his limbs. He sighed, worrying you, until suddenly-

"Of course I would." He stands up with a small grunt. "Who am I to turn down such a kind and spontaneous offer?"

He smiles warmly at you, causing your stomach to flip.

"Hahhhhhhhhhhhh, Ok! Let's, um, go to... uhhhhhh..."

You had pressed your hands together as if praying, resting your chin on the tips of your middle and ring fingers as you not-so silently thought to yourself, although Brassius felt the need to butt-in.

"I know just the spot, my hierochloe."

-*-

Of course Brassius would know of a quiet little field to sit in. You had set up a simple picnic, no table, not wanting to take up too much of his time despite deeply enjoying his presence. He was sitting, eyes wandering around at the scenery and his Pokémon interacting with your own as you shuffled around on your knees. His eyes would occasionally come to a rest on you before briskly looking around at everything that caught his eye again. You had just laid the ingredients out in front of him, letting him take his pick. You had even splurged with your league points, getting stuff from Deli Cioso and Sure Cans, thus giving him more variety, although you wouldn't admit to doing that.

"Whatever you want, I'll make! No matter the combo!"

Brassius glanced up at you for a moment before looking back down. He decided to go for a cheese sandwhich, but with the kick of jalapeños, pointing to every ingredient without a word.

"Huh. Neat! Ok, I'll make it for ya, just gimme a sec, Ok?"

You were looking at him through an 'Ok' hand, one eye closed to make it easier. He seemed mildly amused by this, a light chuckle emanating from him, although he then proceeded to abruptly stop himself and turn away. You were slightly disappointed, but you went off to do your thing.

It had been about a minute or so of an oddly comfortable silence, but then-

"TA-DAAAAA!"

He turned his head, although his body stayed facing away. He looked at the sandwhich he was presented with, eyes widening with delight.

"Oh my, you! You have an eye for design!"

"Huh?"

You tilted your head back slightly as he took the sandwich, staring at it with glee.

"Yes, the way you arranged everything, this precise cut, the pick choice!"

He pointed at the green pick you skewered through one half of the sandwhich, specifically chosen for him, although again, you wouldn't admit to that.

"Yes, everything came together to form a beautifully cohesive work of culinary art. I even dare say, I feel almost guilty knowing I will have to devour it!"

You were smiling uncontrollably, but you didn't realize it. It just came so naturally, hearing him gush about the artistic vision you had while laying jalapeños on top of cheese and avocado. He sees the beauty in everything, it seems. You can't help but idly wonder how he views you...

-*-

It was nighttime in Artazon. The lights of the town illuminated the area in a way that really made you wish you came here after dark more often, or perhaps even stayed here for a bit? Either way, the idea of heading back to the academy seemed to quickly fade from your mind. You wandered around, enjoying the serene sounds of nature all around you, when suddenly-

"No, no, NO! This simply will not do!"

You turned. You can hear a commotion near the pool from here, which is where you caught a glimpse of the man that seems to plague your mind.

Curiosity struck, and you found yourself quietly approaching the situation. You paused when you were able to hear an exasperated sigh.

"This color. It does not even BEGIN to match the hue of their uniform..."

Hold up. Uniform?

"Nooooo... AHHHHHHH! "

He practically fell to his knees in anguish as he crouched next to the pool. He seemed to be in deep thought for a few seconds when suddenly, an idea struck.

"Oh, I know! I shall choose a color that captures a feeling instead! Yes, yes, I must write down how I feel..."

He shuffled over to his stuff, holding his sketchbook and scribbling down some notes while muttering to himself. You noted his voice seemed to waver at that last part. How he feels? About what? And why was a uniform so important to this piece?

You snuck closer, this time being unashamed in your interest, when suddenly-

"UHP-"

You didn't notice the incline leading to the pool was right there, too focused on seeing if he noticed you. You slipped down. It wasn't a terribly tall slope, but the top was probably around your height. Plus, falling on concrete? You lied there on the ground for a few moments, trying to figure out what went wrong when you hear your name called out.

"M-my goodness! That was quite a tumble, y-your form was simply dreadful! Are you feeling alright? Was your vision something more graceful?"

You rolled over onto your side, looking up at his worried face. He truly did look panicked.

"Yeah! Yeah, I-I'm fine..."

You stared up at him. His eyes somehow managed to widen even more as his frown softened. You let yourself roll back over onto your face, a small muffled laugh sounding out.

"Sorry for scaring you like that, sir. I was just wondering what you were up to, no crazy feats were attempted by me, no siree!"

"Oh..." He said, voice sounding oddly dejected, although you weren't able to see the face he made. "If you wished to get a look at my creative process, you really could have asked me. You know I love sharing the world of art with you."

That line made your stomach flutter. 'You're in too deep...' A small part of you said. But another part of you thought 'screw it! Let those Vivillon fly free!'

"Uh, actually, that'd be really nice." You abruptly said, finally rolling over again. So abrupt, actually, that you didn't even register what actually came out of your mouth until the silence kicked in. He was staring down at you, mouth turned up in a weird sorta half-smile and eyes showing a... fear?

You were mortified, lying on the ground, having taken an offer that may have been extended out of pity. There go those insecurities again...

"Well, actually, never mind, I kinda... um, I uh, I gotta..."

You quickly looked away, not wanting him to see your eyes well up with tears. The silence was getting to you. He was always oddly quiet around you. It seemed like he just went through the motions of your visits. So, in a panic, you got up and ran off down the path, ignoring his confused calls of your name.

-*-

It had been a few weeks since you last visited Artazon. You've heard through the grepavine that Brassius has been acting... stranger than normal. As much as you tried to avoid thinking about him, you couldn't help but wonder why. Was this a normal 'working on an intense project' strange or 'my personal life is imploding on me please send help' type of behavior? Truthfully, you kind of wanted to head over there and ask around to see if anyone knows why. After all, he is your sorta-friend. You wanna be there for him despite the pain of rejection. So, you got out of bed, gave yourself a... series of pep-talks, and headed out to Artazon.

-*-

One flight later, there was an immediately tense feeling in the air. It was hard to describe, but you could tell the vibes were off. Everyone was going about their days as normal, but something just felt... weird. You reluctantly made your way over to the Artazon Gym, where he seemed to be pacing yet again. This time, however, he didn't seem to be preoccupied with thoughts of art. Instead, he seemed contemplative, almost crestfallen as he half-heartedly walked up and down the front of the building. You freeze, not wanting to get any closer for some reason.

You hear him muttering angrily to himself, something you, again, noticed he does sometimes. But this time, it was more resentful than frustrated.

"...no, no, this... this will not do..." He said quietly. He made a frustrated grunting noise as he stomped once, fists clenched as he shook lightly.

"...this won't do at all..." He roughly lamented in a shakey sing-songy voice. Through gritted teeth, shaking his head while facing the ground, he roughly threw his arms down to his sides, his frame never ceasing to tremble.

His eyes... you were kind of afraid of what tale they'd tell right now. What has he gone through these past few... however long it took to get to this point? You looked around, wondering if anyone else was seeing his breakdown, but nobody seemed very bothered.

'Who the heck keeps gossiping if nobody's paying attention? Why didn't they get him help?' You thought to yourself before turning back towards him.

When you looked over, he was gone.

-*-

"BRAAAAASSIUUUUUS! HEY, BRASSIUS? WHERE ARE YOU!?"

You didn't want to resort to yelling, but he was nowhere to be found even 20 minutes later. He was... surprisingly nimble considering his fluctuating health, but then again, he made a grand entrance from atop a windmill every time he held a gym battle, so...

You walked through the gates of Sunflora Lawn yet again. Nope, nowhere in or around there either. What would compel him to just bolt like this? And where to?? There were three areas surrounding Artazon that had grassy terrain, although you weren't sure he'd go for any of them. This honestly reminded you of your gym test, if said gym test was to find a singular angry Bramblin instead of 10 Sunflora.

The breeze was light and warm, complimenting the beautiful sunshine that shone brightly, yet not too hot. It was such an amazing day out, yet frustration was all you could really feel. You debated just storming upstairs inside the gym building to see if he simply went home when you heard a small, shuddering wail.

You weren't sure what it was at first, stopping in your tracks at the noise. You stood there for a second, waiting to hear it again when someone jogged out of the Artazon Gym doors.

"Oh!" She paused at the sight of you before whispering something under her breath and changing her path to come to you. "Hey there!"

She seemed relieved to see you.

"Um, h-hi??"

You broadly waved as she jogged over to you. You could now recognize her as the lady that usually tended to the Sunflora Lawn. You thought it was weird that nobody was there.

"You! You have no idea how glad I am to see you!" She smiled, the largest grin you'd even seen (on someone that isn't Brassius) on her face. "Brassius, that poor guy, he could definitely use your reassurance right now.

You stared at her, wondering what she meant.

"Rea... surr...ance??"

You blinked twice. It was at this point that you heard another odd, strangled sob. Was it coming from behind the gym itself??

"You hear him? He's been inconsolable the past few days, saying 'his inspiration has left him'. I think it has to do with you, trainer."

You jump back in shock, hands up defensively.

"ME? WHAT DID I DO?? "

She waved her hands slightly, an indication that it isn't like that at all. You listen.

"Hey, no, don't panic! You yourself didn't do anything, it's just that... well, the man has grown attached to you."

Your eyes widen. She continues.

"When you didn't come back around for your usual art tours, he... well... he lost all motivation to work on his current project, and he doesn't know what to do next."

You immediately felt a rush of guilt course through you. You... caused this?

"I... I'm sorry!" You cried. "I didn't mean to hurt him! I-I thought he didn't want me around anymore! Nobody ever wants me around!"

At this point, tears were threatening to spill from your eyes. She looked on at you, feeling sorry for you.

"Aww..." She walks over to console you. "I doubt that's really the case. I can't help but feel the relaxed aura you emit whenever you come by. You have a very welcoming presence, you know!"

You looked up, wiping tears from your eyes.

"Y... huh??"

"Yeah," she responded in a soft tone. "He very much notices that too. That's why he likes going deeper into his works with you." She looks away. "Well, part of why."

"Huh?"

You were fully invested in the conversation now. She came closer.

"Do you mind if I lean in? I need to tell you something that's kind of a secret between him and the staff."

You panicked, wondering if something would happen to her if she told you.

"Oh! Uhhh, th-th-that's OK, ma'am! I don't need to, um, know his secrets or anything..."

You looked down at the ground, nervous due to rejecting her. You really did just want to make sure he was OK. She smiled.

"Ah, that's quite alright. It may be best if you simply talked to him, though. Want me to show you where he is?"

-*-

It was truly a sight to behold. The man was behind the gym, sitting high up on a tree branch as he held on tight to the trunk of it, bawling loudly as if he had lost a loved one. He didn't notice you, too consumed with misery to notice either of you. The Sunflora Lawn attendant leaned in slightly.

"Best of luck! You've got a nack for calming him down."

Wait, what?

You turned, but she was already gone.

The people of Artazon sure do know how to make a wild entrance... and breezy exit.

This was sort of a big ask. You had no idea how to calm someone down, much less someone as... eccentric as Brassius. But, seeing as though this was technically your fault (at least in your mind), you decided to walk over. You tried to catch a glimpse of his face, but it was squished into the tree, as if he thought applying more pressure to himself would ease the pain.

You winced slightly. You wondered if his calloused hands helped the situation at all.

"Ok, Brassius?"

A sob was hitched in his throat.

"T-take a deep breath! Everything will be OK!"

You really had no idea what to say. Most of your friends were online, and you weren't much for watching overly-serious entertainment outside of shows with lore and angst. That being said, you tried to be there for him, imagining what you'd like to be told in this situation.

"Um... OK! So uh, I don't know what it is you're looking for! Truth be told, I'm... also... lost right now. BUT, I think if we talk things out, it may help? Get your feelings out there? O-only if you want. And, um..."

You looked down.

"I'm... sorry. For avoiding you like that."

You continue to look down, closing your eyes, not really expecting a response. You, however, wanted to wait a bit, instead of running off like last time.

The silence was oddly calm. The sense of dread you expected to feel was more like a grey veil than a tumultuous mess. He had even stopped his moans and cries when he first noticed your presence, but you weren't sure if it were a good or bad thing. Still, though, you decided to let fate seal the deal. Whatever he wanted, you'd do.

It took a few- Ok, quite a few moments, but eventually, you heard the rustling of leaves and the sound of someone landing nearby. You then heard some quiet footsteps make their way toward you, a gentle hand now resting on your shoulder. His voice was less shaky, but quiet, almost breaking into sound when he first hesitantly spoke up.

"Come with me, then, young trainer."

-*-

You made your way into his art studio, silently walking behind the man. He hadn't said anything this entire walk. However, he seemed... determined? You were always bad with words, but something intense was about to be said, you could feel it.

He opened the double doors that lead inside, and what you saw... both surprised you and didn't surprise you at all at the same time.

The room was very bright, with plants crawling up and down the pillars and walls. There were even plants on the ceilings, a feat you may need to ask him about later (if you were still on speaking terms by the end of this conversation, that is).

The room was as organized as one could get it when it came to his greenery, but his art stuff was, well, not, to put it lightly. Paint, clay, rock, you name it, it was probably splattered or crushed somewhere. Papers and plans galore were scattered across the floor and hanging on any surface he could find. You even spotted shattered glass and sand on the ground near the sinks...?? The only clear spaces were the mezzanine platforms. Was this a repurposed warehouse?

You saw a few small rooms in the back, one being a small bathroom, one being storage of some kind, but the other you couldn't quite tell, although you can make out the fact that there are markings carved into all of them. The exit door in the back lead to an attached greenhouse. It was bright in there, natural light coming in droves, but all you could see were giant shadows of the plants looming within. 'Wow.' Was all you could muster while taking in the sight.

You didn't even realize you were staring in awe until you heard your name called, snapping you out of it.

"Please, come. Sit over here."

He had cleared off a dusty yet otherwise clean looking couch. You hadn't even noticed the small seating area near one of the front windows. The couch, the recliner, and the table all situated in such a way that someone could comfortably watch from the corner as Brassius worked on his masterpieces, and then chat with him face-to-face across the table during his breaks. You couldn't help but imagine Hassel sitting there with tea, partaking in light conversation as he watched his dear friend work during his down time from the academy and league duties.

You sat on the couch and nodded at him, who returned the gesture before making his way to the chair. Why you nodded, you're not sure. Maybe you're trying to reassure both yourself and him that everything would be alright?

He sighed as he sat down. You couldn't help but take in how long his legs are when he did.

He spoke in a very lowered voice, something you quickly took note of. You wished your mind would stop overanalyzing everything, maybe it was to compensate for how little you understand people?

"Well then. I suppose it is time we cleared the air." His voice was somewhat dark as he spoke, as opposed to the cordial yet animated tone he usually had. This frightened you, but you carried on.

"Y-yes, I suppose so..." You roughly jammed your pointer fingers together as you glanced to the side, not wanting to make eye contact as you spoke. When you looked up, however, you saw that he was looking rather intensely at you, although there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Indeed." He started. He looked at you to gage your reaction, which seemed very apprehensive. As he expected, really.

"I am glad you returned, I really do miss your visits."

"Oh yeah? Heh, well I, um, s-sorry..." You hung your head again.

"Nonsense!" He leaned in slightly before catching himself, leaning back again and clearing his throat.

"Now, what sort of person would I be if I held everything against you?" A hint of his usual flair was back, although you could tell he was trying to reel it back in.

"But... you should??"

"Why?"

"Because I s-suck?"

A silence fell over the room.

"You..."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he simply moved on with a huff.

"You agreed to my proposition that night, but then you ran off and ceased all visits to Artazon for over a month" he started, eyes closed tightly, gripping the armrests on his chair as if to channel his negative emotions. "Why?"

You... truly didn't know how to answer that.

"Well, I uh, had something to do."

"For 5 weeks?"

"Um- yes."

He knew you were lying, but he didn't push it. He has frequent, often longer projects, too, after all.

"Alright. Well, why don't we reschedule, then?"

"Erm-"

You didn't expect him to try and arrange something else.

"Sure?? I- I mean, we can certainly do that."

You grinned, although it looked strained. He stared at you for a few seconds. His mouth seemed to twitch slightly, as if suppressing a grin of his own, but he continued, letting it fade on its own.

"Avant-garde! We will certainly make time to schedule it after our little catch-up."

He looked at you from the bottoms of his eyes. You sunk into the couch a little.

"Yeah! Yeah, we, um-"

He decided to interrupt your odd ramble this time.

"You seem so unsure of yourself. Is there a reason why, dear trainer?"

Ok, now you really felt trapped. Your mind raced a thousand miles per second, yet it came up blank at the same time. What could you say as an answer here?

"I... don't know." You say truthfully, eyes wide and sitting up to stare at him.

He stares back, although he looked like he was thinking hard about what he was going to say next. He sat up some, leaning in before beginning.

"...you fascinate me to no end, you know that?" He said, eyes intense and boring right through you. "You are certainly one of the stranger trainers I have dealt with. It is quite... beautiful, watching you navigate the world. You surprise me every time you visit, doing things I would least expect, yet make sense in the context of you! I have always wanted to get to know you better."

Your face heated up again, although he simply continued.

"I actually had something I wanted to show you, but sadly, my artistic vision has... ceased being clear to me. I have not been able to work on it for a while as a result. Mind if I bring some ideas out? Perhaps I could learn more about you now."

You were shaking. You wanted to say yes, but you didn't want to seem too eager. So, you thought of a compromise.

"Y-yerm..."

There's a difference between an idea and actually executing it correctly.

His face contorted into one of sheer confusion.

"Yerm??"

"Sorry, I, uh, got nervous and didn't wanna say 'yeah' too hard, so uhhh..."

You trailed off. His gaze was transfixed on you.

"Uh-huh." He clapped the awkward tension away as he continued. "Let us commence, then! Sit tight, I shall bring my sketches and prototypes out."

He got up, placing his sketchbook on the table before going over to a table with some clay figurines. They were obvious works-in-progress, but they still looked very interesting. In fact, you'd gladly take them off his hands once he was done with them.

"I use these as prototypes before working on projects like this" He said with a smile. "I want to capture a certain feeling, but in a less spontaneous way. I was..."

He looks away, a far more obvious, yet still light blush gracing his cheeks.

"...I was inspired by you. I wished to capture your essence in a piece of art, but I... can't possibly emulate you in just one piece. I keep getting overwhelmed by all the ways you..."

He trails off when he sees your face. You seem slightly flustered, having sunken into the couch, staring with a very peculiar expression that screams 'OH MY GODS'. He doesn't continue his sentence, instead starting a new one.

"Oh heavens, I must apologize for overwhelming you, I know this is quite a lot all at once..."

He slowly lowers the tray, a dejected look on his face. You scramble to fix this.

"NONONOWAIT!" You wildly wave your hands around to reassure him, although you weren't sure what to actually say.

"I-I'm flattered, actually! I'd, um, be honored to, er, help... and inspire you... 're pro...ject??"

You grin and tilt your head, arms locked in a perpetual shrug. Brassius simply stares back at you.

The silence is dread-inducing, wondering how he'd respond, when...

He grins.

It's sort of ardent, in a way.

'Ardent-garde', you think, momentarily ruining the moment in your mind.

"Why, it is I who feels honored. Very rarely do I meet a soul as bewitching as yours to truly appreciate!"

You smile. For the first time in a while, your heart feels at peace. Is this that real-life connection you've been searching for? That, dare you say, treasure?

"W-well then!" You squawk. "Where do we begin, maestro?"

A/N

OK!! SO! Originally, this was just going to be a story about your presence calming Brassius' constantly tumultuous mind and him making art based on you. But after I started writing your expy as "The MOST Confusing Human in Paldea (TM)," I decided it'd apply to both you AND him! Pretty fun, huh? Like, you ground him and snap him back to reality even when he's in his zone, and he causes you to take a moment to breathe and be self-aware of your catastrophic thinking.

I had more I wanted to write here, but I can't think straight (I finished this after a W I L D trip, so I'm super duper drowsy). Just know this was more of a practice run because THIS MAN RIGHT HERE MADE ME WANNA WRITE AND POST FANFIC AGAIN. Have some food! It's more of an appetizer. I promise to get better, I'm just so used to writing my own characters so sorry if it's lackluster/OOC/everywhere. I have a bunch of Brassius stories planned (he will regain his usual batshit energy in those once he gets used to you being a permanent part of his life, although he will always have a soft spot for you), as well as a few Hassel, Clavell, and Larry, cause old/middle-aged men make me weak apparently. Next will be Hassel, so stay tuned! Hopefully I get in the flow more next time.

(ALSO I HAD TO EDIT THIS ON MY PHONE SO SORRY IF IT'S A FORMATTING MESS OK???)

[nommingonfood]

All aspects of Reader feel too real, the overthinking/planning, the crying in the shower, the horny thoughts, the "Stop being a slut. Pure thoughts." comment, and the awkwardness around your crush behavior. Like Matt, stop looking at me like that, I'm already trying to calm myself down after basically stalking your sexy pics.

Anyways, thank you for the food, I'm glad inspiration has struck.

[[and then I met you || ch 22]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.3k

ao3 link

It takes you a little over an hour to get Minnie to go down for bed. Tomorrow is her birthday party and to say she is excited is an understatement. She was practically jumping off the walls and it took three different books, a bottle, and two lullabies to finally get her to drift off. You are thankful when she doesn’t sit up again and call for you after five minutes, because you have a lot to do. 

You need to clean up the apartment and decorate, you need to prepare pancake batter for a princess style breakfast, you need to finish wrapping presents, and you need to set up the couch for Matt. He will be coming by after his Patrol so he can stay the night and Minnie can wake up to the surprise of him being there, which is the perfect way to start her celebratory weekend.

But before any of that, you need to go take a shower so you can have a proper breakdown. 

When you were younger, you believed crying was a sign of weakness. Your parents had treated it as such, always dismissive if you cried. The reason had never mattered - shedding tears was pointless and for children, so you had learned to bottle everything up and push it all down until the act of crying physically hurt you. Only very recently did you accept that crying is healthy. 

You still hate doing it, though, and the only way you have found to balance your shame and your need for that emotional release is to treat it like another task you need to accomplish. 

You triple check your daughter is truly asleep before you close the door to the bathroom and start the water. You keep yourself composed as you strip and only once you are under the spray do you let the tears start to fall. 

So much has happened in such a short time and your anxiety has been through the roof. 

The first bill for your hospital stay arrived today and you have been too scared to open it. You are terrified to go back into medical debt - giving birth in the United States had drained a lot of your savings and you have built it back up. You know there are all sorts of hidden fees, and you are going to need to do so much work contacting the various billing offices to try to get prices down. 

It isn’t even like you are fully recovered from being in the hospital in the first place. You only just finished your antibiotics last week and your ear still randomly throbs or rings. 

But honestly, you don’t know if that is from being sick or almost having your head bashed in. 

You thought you would be okay after the attack. You thought Minnie would be the one with problems - having nightmares and jumping at shadows - but after the first day of making sure you were okay, she’s been fine. You haven’t been. 

You’ve been plagued with nightmares about hands around your neck. You’ve been jumping at shadows when you leave the apartment. 

You keep constantly checking your locks and you debate ordering pepper spray. 

You don’t know what to do.

You aren’t okay. 

You don’t feel safe. 

The only time you have felt secure is when Matt was there to hold you and remembering such only signals your brain to send a new wave of tears. 

He confuses you in a way no one else ever has. 

You have never met anyone who cares so much before. It is overwhelming how much he loves Hell’s Kitchen - enough so to become a vigilante to protect it - and it is overwhelming how much he loves Minnie. You thought only you could love her that much.

Seeing them together does things to your heart you don’t understand. You just want to watch them play and bond until the end of time. They smile and laugh, and it is the only time you ever feel Whole. You feel like everything is perfect when the three of you are together. 

You don’t know what to make of that. You don’t trust yourself with it - you’ve never felt like that before and you are scared that if you think too hard about it, you’ll find a flaw and the feeling will be ruined. 

You just want Matt to hold you while the two of you watch Minnie play and that isn’t an okay fantasy for you to have. You don’t have that type of relationship with him. 

He is a naturally touchy person with a huge heart. You’ve seen him hug Karen and Foggy before and you know he has only ever wrapped his arms around you to comfort you. 

And he wants to comfort you because you are the mother of his child. He wouldn’t be around if it weren’t for Minnie and that is something you need to remind yourself of. 

Matt loves Minnie. Family is extremely important to him, and he has told you time and time again that he strives to be the best dad possible for her - so of course that means he needs to take care of you and make sure you have a positive relationship.

If you and Matt butt heads, that wouldn’t be what was best for Minnie.

You need to do what is best for Minnie.

Which means you need to stop crying and get to work. 

You wipe at your tears until they start to slow, then wash your face while still under the spray. It takes a minute or two for you to fully calm down, but once you do, it is like the tap is turned off. Crying time is over, so you stop your shower and quickly dry off so you can get dressed.

You feel better, but in a kind of dull way. It is like all the pressures in your life have been turned down to something more manageable and you know you will be able to focus on your tasks without slipping into a panic attack. 

The apartment is not nearly as dirty as you believed it to be. You have to straighten some things up and you take the time to wipe down all the flat surfaces, but after that, you start putting things up. There’s a pink and yellow Happy Birthday banner and you blow up a few inflatables you found shaped like flowers and stick them to the walls. You twirl streamers together to decorate the back of the couch and the dining chairs, and your favorite piece is the pink sparkle fringe to hang over the hallway entrance. It isn’t the most elaborate of set ups, but you know Minnie will love it and that is all that matters to you. 

Once your living space is Birthday themed, you turn to the kitchen. You went shopping today to make sure you had everything needed for a spectacular breakfast. You found a recipe for extra fluffy pancakes, and it seems easy enough - it calls for letting the batter rest overnight and you particularly like that as it is one less thing to do in the morning while trying to handle a rowdy toddler. 

It doesn’t take long to get everything prepped and before you know it, it has been close to two hours since you put Minnie down to sleep and you feel it is finally safe to bring her presents out of their hidey holes to be wrapped. 

She has grown a bit since you last bought her clothes, so you got her a nice little haul, including a new princess dress for her to wear to the zoo. It has sparkles and tulle and the dress comes with a matching crown you just know she won’t want to take off. You are extremely proud of the find. 

You didn’t just get her clothes, though. Minnie has been more and more interested in helping you cook, so you got her a little kitchen play set. It comes with pots and pans, knives, utensils, bowls, plates, and some fake food. You thought it would be fun to have her practice her skills - she’s a pro at helping you stir and mix, and she knows how to use a butter knife to cut up fruit. You hope she enjoys pretending to wash her dishes, so you lure you into helping into that part of cooking, but you don’t think anyone finds that chore fun. 

Before you can start wrapping, you need to go through everything and remove all the tags and stickers. It is a boring activity that takes far too long, so you decide you are going to multitask while doing so. You grab your laptop and notebook and settle down among your pile of bags.

Since your talk with Matt about Daredevil, you have been in research mode. The first few nights, you read every article you could find about the Devil. You started with the reputable sources - purely focusing on news reports - and once you had a timeline of events down, you switched to opinion pieces. You quickly ended up sorting those into three categories - positive outlooks, negative outlooks, and outlooks written by Karen Page. 

You took notes on everything - making pro and con lists on each major event and circling back to jot down questions you had. You felt insane - and frankly a little invasive - but it was how you processed things. You wanted it all laid out nicely in front of you so you could come to your own conclusions. 

But to get to that final conclusion, you still have a lot of internet sleuthing to do, so you open up a new internet tab.

One of the most important things you want to know about Daredevil is how real people feel about him. Published articles are always biased - it is in their nature to be based purely on who produces them - but social media lets the mass in on the conversation. You learned that well after the Attack on New York. 

You remember the majority of the news singing praise for the Avengers and how they saved the Earth - which you truly did appreciate - but no one came and spoke to the people whose lives had been ruined. Sure, they talked about how much destruction had happened and how much it would cost to rebuild, but no one had mentioned how Hell’s Kitchen and Chelsea had been almost flattened. No one cared about the low-cost homes that had been destroyed or the poor people crushed in debris - not when they could talk about the Big Bank buildings the Hulk had run through. Why talk about those genuinely affected when you could bring in a mouthpiece who was halfway across the world?

Iron Man didn’t give two shits about the people whose lives he saved. If he did, he’d help them in the aftermath, and he didn’t. None of the Heroes did - they started going around the world while an uncaring government was left to clean up the mess. Repairs went to the lowest bidder and many things were deemed too expensive and just left to crumble.

But only internet forums and ten second social media videos talked about that.

Matt talks so passionately about helping people in Hell’s Kitchen, so you need to know if it is real, or just all a puff piece. 

You look first into the forums and to your surprise, there is a whole section for New York vigilantes. You resist the urge to dive into the threads about Spider-Man and the Hero of Harlem and you have to scroll to the bottom of the front page to find something about Daredevil. 

It is CCTV footage of Daredevil chasing off what looks to be some teenagers trying to rob a pawn shop and there are a few dozen comments under it. You smile as you start to read them - the majority of it is praise for Matt, with the few negative comments being about the quality of footage.

And each thread you find about Daredevil is like that. You expected to see issues with excessive force like you saw in the opinion pieces, but there is nothing. People who you can tell are locals all comment about how he doesn’t hurt kids, and his punishments reflect the severity of the crime. Muggers get a few good swats while those who commit domestic violence are given as good as they gave. It is gang members and real dangers who end up in the hospital. There are about a handful of posts giving firsthand accounts of how the Devil helped them - ranging from them being in serious danger to Matt helping a drunk woman safely get a cab.

From what you can see, the people who post in this forum like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and genuinely feel safer with him around. The site is a little niche, though, so you switch to a more popular platform to see if you can find different opinions and different opinions you find.

Just not the ones you expected.

There is a new picture of the Devil that has gained traction in his tag that is rather good quality - Matt is squatting on a roof, seemingly observing a street, and is framed in such a way to show off his lower half. His thighs, which you know are all muscle, are highlighted wonderfully and the angle of the photo only emphasizes his backside. His upper back and shoulders are all in shadow, but you can tell just how broad they are. 

Twitter absolutely loves the image, and you think you have to agree with them. You can feel your cheeks heating up and you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the screen.

Matt is beyond physically attractive, and it is no wonder the internet is lusting after him. There is a litany of lewd comments from multiple people and one made by a user with a cartoon frog as their profile picture has your core twitching and you quickly hide your face in your hands. 

“imagine him bending you over a rooftop and fucking you until all you can do is drool ♥”

You don’t want to think dirty thoughts about Matt. It makes you feel awkward and guilty but mostly they make you Want, and you desperately want to bat that away.

You very obviously have slept with him before and know what a good lover he is. You know what his skin feels like against yours and your mouth goes dry at the memory of how loudly he moaned while between your legs. His stamina is no joke, and you can only imagine it has improved since he’s started being a vigilante. 

You have no doubt he could easily fuck someone stupid.

You tell yourself you can’t think like this - you are supposed to be researching Daredevil to figure out how you feel about Matt being a vigilante - not ogling pictures of his ass and remembering your night together. 

You gently smack your cheeks a few times and tell yourself to focus. 

That only serves to make you more flush, so you make the executive decision that you have had enough screen time for the night and slam shut your laptop.

You have removed all the tags from the clothes, and you only have a few UPC stickers to pull off fake food, so you hurry through those so you can get to actually wrapping presents and not thinking about what you saw.

It is easy for you to get quickly lost in this new activity. Your perfectionist nature has you needing to make sure every crease is even and crisp and that each present looks picturesque, and you can't do that while distracted. Your thoughts shift from the way Matt’s breath felt against your skin to how many gifts Minnie has and how each one needs to look unique.

You know Minnie is going to tear through them like a wildfire, but it is important to you to make sure love is poured into everything. 

You never got that as a child. Your birthdays were practical affairs and more often than not your present was to go clothes shopping, so you didn’t get to unwrap things or have that grand surprise. You don’t want that for Minnie. You want her to feel like an absolute princess on her special day and if that means rewrapping the same present four times to make it perfect, then that is what you will do. 

You are finalizing bow placements on the gift bags you had to use for odd shaped items when your phone vibrates with an alert. 

For a split second you are confused - it is rather late, and you’ve muted most app notifications - but then you remember Matt is meant to be coming over. 

You don’t know how it could have slipped your mind and embarrassment burns through you. 

How are you going to face him after staring at a picture of his ass until your brain broke?

You hesitate to check your phone, but when you do, you obviously have a text from him saying he is on his way. You groan to yourself, wondering how you can save yourself from this awkward situation? 

Maybe you can go to bed early. You aren’t at all tired - you usually are up for another few hours - but you have a long weekend ahead of you. You will need rest.

In your bed.

Where Matt will not be. 

Because, for the first time in a while, he will be sleeping on the couch. 

Which you still need to prepare.

You finish fussing with Minnie’s bounty of presents and set about arranging them up the Happy Birthday banner like it is a Christmas tree. You have to resist your urge to nitpick and instead turn your focus to cleaning up your mess. You hurriedly shove the pile of trash you made into a bag so you can toss it and your wrapping supplies are tucked into the back of the closet, where they will live until you need them again. 

You do a quick once over to make sure everything is neat and birthday ready before you fetch your spare pillow and blanket. 

You try to not feel guilty as you start making up the couch. You know it isn’t the most comfortable and Matt will probably be sore after doing God knows what all night, but you can’t offer him your bed again. There is no reason for him to be in your bed. As frantic as you are, you don’t need any comforting. 

You just need to stop thinking. 

But not in that way. 

“Stop,” you hiss at yourself. “Stop being a slut. Pure thoughts. Have pure thoughts.”

Scolding yourself does not work as well as you mean it to and all you can do is pour your concentration into folding and refolding the blanket. You roll it up tight first like it is a sleeping bag, then you think that is stupid, so you fold it into a triangle. You realize that is trying way too hard, so into a square it goes. 

The knock at the door startles you and to your credit, you don’t scream. 

You do, however, bury your face into your hands again and take a deep breath. You are panicking over nothing. Everything is just fine. You are overthinking.

You mentally chant that mantra as you go to the door. You hesitate to open it, needing the extra moment to center yourself, and you are surprised you don’t automatically close it again at the sight of Matt. 

His normal daytime attire is a suit, and he wears them like a model, but you much prefer him dressed down as he is now. He’s in a t-shirt and joggers, with a five o’clock shadow and fluffed up hair, and he looks devastatingly handsome. He looks friendly and soft, but everything is just tight enough to show off how toned he is. 

Your body reacts exactly like it did to the picture, but this time you can’t hide. 

So, you run instead.

“Come on in,” you practically squeak out before hurrying to get out of his way. He’s got a gym bag with him - probably to carry his clothes for tomorrow - and your entryway isn’t the largest. It makes sense for you to go back to the living room. 

“Busy night?” He asks as he closes and locks the door, and you are completely thrown by the question. You must make a confused noise, because he follows up with, “You are out of breath, is everything okay?”

Your heart starts to beat hard in your chest and you can feel your entire body getting hot. Of course, he can tell what is going on with your body and you are nearly in full panic mode. 

You need to get to bed and away from him.

You fail at keeping your composure by gesturing around the living room, “Yeah - um - just been busy. Decorating and stuff - it’s a big day tomorrow.” 

“It is,” Matt agrees, a charming and boyish smile creeping onto his lips. You tell yourself he must be excited for Minnie’s birthday and that is why he is in such a nice mood.

“How was..how was your night?” 

He hums at the question, moving to set his bag down by the couch, “It was relatively quiet. With school starting up again and the heat, the younger crowd isn’t out. I made a few laps but didn’t find anything worth going after.” 

“So, there isn’t like…crime every night?” You ask, trying to wrap your head around it all. You haven’t actually asked what a Patrol consists of, so you don’t know what the average one is like.

“Despite what everyone thinks, no. There’s a good number of nights where I just keep things tidy, but being out helps to deter people as well. Not every night is drug busts and gang wars.”

“That is good to know.” And it is - it helps to ease your anxiety that he is out there constantly boxing people. People say New York is crime ridden, but it is not nearly as bad as it is made out to be. It is all scare tactics and sensational news - like the Satanic Panic.

Matt hums again, then tilts his head back towards where you hung the birthday banner, “That is a lot of presents.”

His smile is still bright, and you have to duck your head and bite your lip to keep your mind in check. Your mouth, as always, is quick to quip, “I’m not telling you what is in them. It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise, huh?” He teases, before kneeling down by his bag and unzipping it. You can see colorful wrapping paper peeking through, and you instantly wonder what sort of gift is inside.

“A surprise,” you repeat. “It isn’t any fun if everyone knows what is inside before it is opened.”

“I’ll concede to that, even if it is tempting to peek.” As he says this he stands up, holding three different sized packages in his hands. They aren’t as pristinely wrapped as yours, but you can tell great care went into it and you wonder if Matt did it himself. 

“Foggy said they will come over around noon,” he says like you aren’t on the verge of a crisis. “And Maggie was hoping we could stop by on the way to the park. I told her it would be up to you, but I know she has a few things for Minnie. We’re probably going to need to bring that wagon you got.”

The idea of so many people coming to your apartment for a party - especially a toddler’s birthday party - boggles your mind but your heart soars that so many people want to celebrate your daughter. You watch as he goes to add the gift pile and that confusing feeling swirls in your chest again, reminding you this is everything you ever wanted for Minnie. Matt being in your life means more people to love your daughter like she deserves.

“Okay,” you say because that is all your mind can produce. When Matt begins to stand again, you go into a panic thinking he might say something to start a conversation and blurt out, “I should get ready for bed.”

He turns to you, and you don’t know what to expect, but it is not for him to look bemused. He raises his eyebrows over his glasses and lets out a huff of a laugh, “It’s a big day tomorrow. You should get your rest.” He isn’t condescending or rude about it, but you can definitely hear the hint of teasing.

Your face burns as you nod and stupidly repeat, “It’s a big day.” You clear your throat to try and regain some composure and point towards the couch, “I, uh, left you out pillows and a blanket. The..uh..remote for the fan is on the coffee table. I readded the labels after Minnie tore them off.”

“Thank you,” he says with full sincerity, and you cannot take any more of his charm and muscular biceps. 

“I’m going to go to bed now,” you tell him as you start to back up towards the bedroom. You know you should tell him about the fringe covering the hallway, but you just want to flee and hide under your covers until your brain stops all of its nonsense.

“Okay.”

As you finally let yourself turn away from Matt, he says your name just loud enough for you to barely hear it. You freeze in place, but it is like your blood is boiling inside you. You breathe out his name in response.

“Good night.”

((“I love you.”))

--

a/n: orz please take this offering of a chapter - my brain is not working up to standard.

Also - Tomorrow is a Big Day

--

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[theorist-fox]

Can I interest you in some silly sex with Simon? 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️

18+

Word count: 1k.

CW: nothing really. Just silly sex. Just giggling sex. Just I-need-to-give-this-man-some-humanity sex. Simon is ticklish and you find out, that's the plot.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

You look delectable straddling his hips.

Naked and soft, plump tits sitting prettily in his hands. His thumbs swipe idly around your perked nipples as you ride him slowly, early morning sun peeking through the curtains and lapping at your skin. What a way to wake up, what a sight.

He stares at your lips and how they part for him—something he still has to get used to, though he probably never truly will. How dulcet does his name sound if it’s your voice whispering it, how beautiful your eyes when they take in his face.

Soft hands are pressed on his chest for leverage, and you’re treating him with a view he keeps pinned to the forefront of his brain—gliding your cunt until you’re chock-full of him, stroking yourself until you’re shivering.

He likes it when he’s on top, sure. He’s used to taking the lead and orchestrating every detail, in and out of the job. 

But when you allow him to sit back and take it? Hell, sign him up. He’d do it every day. Especially when it’s this lazy sex here, in which you’re canting your hips to cum before he does, giving him the blissful chance of feeling you clench around him when he's still hard. 

Goosebumps rise under your nails as they graze down his chest and brush his stomach. Your hands wander blindly on his belly, then his sides, as you clock his eyes with your heavy ones, panting softly, idly—my beautiful, beautiful girl.

But then you inadvertently brush his ribs, and he stiffens—even squirms, and your movements come to a halt.

You blink as conscience returns to you slowly, and the room sinks into tense silence. His cock twitches inside of you when you tilt your head inquisitively, squinting your eyes.

Experimentally, you brush your fingertips against his ribs again, and his biceps flatten to his sides, trapping your hands.

Your eyes widen, and his do the same.

“Don’t.”

You gasp, “Oh my God.”

“Darling, no.” He warns, but you’ve clearly made up your mind already.

Your lips are curled in a smile that promises mischief, and he can only give up, sit back, and count his losses.

“Darling, yes.”

Simon feels your fingers wiggle under the tight press of his arms, but no matter his strength, they're seemingly useless against that playful resolve you're displaying.

His cock is still embarrassingly hard inside you, and Simon reckons it won't soften any time soon. You don’t seem eager to get off him either, thus prolonging the torture with each tiny movement you make.

He inhales sharply and fights tooth and nail to school his expression into neutrality. His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw is locked tight. The only thing giving him away is the flush of his cheeks, getting pinker by the second because he refuses to open his mouth to breathe a much-needed lungful of air. Knowing that if he would, he'd bark a laugh that would proclaim you as the winner of this fight.

He would never.

You roll your hips, then—cheap trick. He unravels with a shaky breath, and his biceps give out enough for you to slip your hands away.

And then, he knows he's done for.

“Cut it out.” He barks, trying to sound stern and miserably failing. He knows because you're laughing even harder.

Your fingers feel like tiny bugs crawling up his sides, and they make his breath catch in his throat.

“Never.” You say, with a grin that scrunches your nose. A smile that would normally make his heart throb, but right now just makes him wish he were a lesser man so he could throttle you.

“Fuckin’-“

You chuckle.

You evil little cunt.

Resistance lasts a few more seconds before he bursts.

It’s not a full laugh that leaves him; more of a wheeze that makes you chortle like a wicked witch. His chest heaves as your fingers frantically tickle his sides. Tries to get you off him by shaking his hips, but that only makes the two of you falter and moan, and then chuckle and catch your breaths.

His shoulders shake in a breathless, choking laugh that pitches upward as you continue with your assault (yes, assault—he is not being dramatic), eyes veiled with tears of frustration and mirth. He shrieks when your hands travel under his armpits—the sound makes you giggle in a way that would have him melt. 

“That laugh’s lovely, baby.” You say with a smarmy grin he wishes he could wipe with a kiss, hands unrelenting against his sides. “Sound like a kettle whistling.”

He tries to glower and push you off, but you’re surprisingly strong when you’re focused. Right now, your only goal is to apparently make him hate you—he'd rather be held at gunpoint than being forced to hold in a laugh that makes his stomach hurt.

Simon now looks shockingly harmless, with his cheeks flushed bright red and his voice an octave too high—wouldn't look dangerous if he tried.

“Tea ready, yet?” You add, batting your lashes, because why not rub salt into the already embarrassing wound marring his pride.

It’s that unfathomably stupid joke that finally makes Simon crack. He barks out a laugh that bubbles up his throat, rippling through his stomach so suddenly that you bounce above him. Your own laugh follows soon after, because each time you manage to steal one from him, your heart vibrates with loving triumph.

But still—he is Simon Riley, isn’t he? Member of Task Force 141. Lieutenant in the UK Special Forces, SAS. The Ghost. There is some pride in there, one he'd like to keep intact.

He tries to recollect his breath, sniffling, and his arms shoot out to wrap around your waist. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him.

It’s then that you find yourself in a position of utter disadvantage, on your back with your big brute of a boyfriend holding you down. You’re wide-eyed and still smiling with barely contained giggles, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn't make his heart soar.

Sure, he’s panting, still proper flushed and apple-cheeked, with shivers wrecking his spine and unshed tears in his eyes—but he takes great pride in having won yet another fight (again, not overreacting at all, if you ask him).

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

You fix him with a look. “Simon, no.”

Before you can add more to your complaint, he rams his cock into you until your chest stutters, your lips mouthing around a shaky breath he drinks dry with a wet kiss.

He fucks you into the mattress, then—once, twice, until the remnants of laughter vanish from your face and you’re trembling in bliss, eyes rolled back under heavy eyelids.

He places a sloppy kiss down to your collarbone.

“Simon, yes.”

[bi-writes]

thinking about being the new addition to tf141. you are an asset given to laswell by the CIA, a timid little thing but your aim is always on target, and you are quiet, tech savvy, and you do as you're told. (18+, dark)

just how lieutenant riley prefers. he dwarfs you. the first time you meet, your eyes nearly come out of your head from how wide they go. he's so large, and you feel so tiny compared to him, and even though he does nothing but a disinterested once over, it is obvious to the rest of the team that you might just be his favorite.

it's most obvious in the subtle touches. when you're getting ready to jump, ghost comes up from behind and tugs on your parachute, nearly topping you over making sure it's secure. when you're getting ready in the back of the humvee, he reaches over and buckles your thigh holster for you when he notices the strap is coming loose. you nearly choke when you feel his big hand between your thighs, and you stare up at him with wide eyes when his pinkie moves up the seam of your zipper when he tugs his hand away.

and then the way he's on your six is unlike anything else. like glue, chest pressed to your back, his gloved hand squeezing your waist as he moves you every which way he pleases because you're so small to him, so easy, and he growls under his breath when he touches the curve of your hips or the fat of your ass.

maybe you might enjoy it if he wasn't so fucking awkward about it. if he didn't stare at you without blinking. if he didn't adjust his cock in his jeans right in front of you. if he didn't grip you by the back of your head, tugging you any way he wanted as if scolding a kitten using the scruff of their neck.

you think the team would notice by now--that they would step in, tell ghost to back off, but they turn a blind eye. they tolerate this behavior, and you don't know if it's because ghost is so good at his job, they don't want to, or that they are so afraid of him, they refuse to say anything.

or maybe they approve. maybe it keeps ghost at bay. maybe it keeps a lion in his den. a spider in its nest. maybe indulging ghost in his fucked form of flirting and socialization is what keeps the foundations of this team right where it needs to be--and you realize, slowly, that maybe that is why you're here.

because ghost likes them soft, and they need to put a muzzle on their dog.

so when you feel him in the dark, slipping a gloved hand under the blanket that keeps you warm at night, he is pleasantly surprised to find you awake. and even more surprised to feel your hand slipping the soft lace of your panties right into his fucking pocket.

"they teach y'that 'n basic training? how ta give y'r knickers to y'r lieutenant, eh?"

"no," you whisper, and when you meet his eyes in the dark, he looks so hungry. he's untamed, no training, he's used to getting what he wants with no resistance. you turn over in bed, and you don't get to see the way he sucks on his teeth when you let your knees fall, revealing the pretty place between your thighs, soft and puffy and wet, just waiting for a good mutt to eat her up. "but i learned other things."

"tha' right?"

"yeah," you say softly, and you turn over onto your stomach, pushing back onto your knees right in front of him. he bends, leaning over until he's pushing his masked face right into the seam of your cunt, and you grip the sheets tight when he inhales deeply, a rumble following as both of his hands grip either side of your ass and spread you open for him. you're drooling, wetting the nylon fabric, and you gasp when you feel the wet, warm muscle of his tongue suck on your folds through the mask. it's lewd, and you're wetting the material so much it sticks to the strong lines of his face, but he continues, tilting his head to the side as he laps at the pretty slick that dampens your thighs.

"what'd y'learn then, swee'eart?"

not how to fuck your lieutenant. but...you did learn to keep them happy.

"h-how to be a good girl."

and you think you feel him smile.

[simonbrain]

simon being delusional and pretending he's in a relationship with you because he has no game and can't work up the courage to approach you. maybe you're someone average and unimportant—like the waitress at the pub he frequents—but you've caught his attention, and he can't stop thinking about you.

he hasn't really interacted with you because he's always sitting at the bar with the rest of the boys, but you're sweet and polite, and he can't help the flurry of daydreams that rush through his mind.

he thinks about taking you home after your shift and nodding as if he's listening to you ramble about your night, but really he's concentrating on the soft rumble of your voice. he thinks about cleaning your tired face in the bathroom while you're perched up on the sink, a hand cupping your face to keep you upright while he quietly admires your pretty features. he thinks about dragging you into bed and holding you close to him, offering all the warmth you deserve as you curl up against his side.

he's got his head so far up his arse that when you actually approach this intimidating man who's been boring holes into your head to ask if he's alright, he kind of just short-circuits because you're actually speaking to him? there's no way his perfect girl is right here in front of him. he must be dreaming.

he doesn't realise he's just staring until you clear your throat and nervously say if he should ever need your help, to just ask. and then you're speed-walking off, praying he doesn't take you up on your offer. meanwhile, he's mentally playing russian roulette with a fully loaded gun because how did he fuck that up?

[karoochui]

I am admittedly not the most massive fan of human DCA cuz i think some characters aren't human for good reason BUT. i had ideas. So

[writing-jellyfish]

Adding to this post

Poly!141, short dabble, 18+ mdni

Warnings: Tied up, sub!fem!reader, fingers in v (lmk if anything else needs to be added)

It's well known to the three other men that you're Ghost's pet. Look but don't touch. That is until one night when Ghost had a hip injury and was recovering, he couldn't give you the pleasure you needed so of course he had to treat his girl to something good.

He had you all dressed up for the company that would be arriving soon, wearing black baby doll lingerie with your wrists already tied behind your back with ribbon and a collar around your neck. It was a present to his teammates, a one-time chance to ravish you like the wolves they are.

As the door unlocked and footsteps filled the flat, the bedroom door creaked open and the hallway light flooded into the dimly lit bedroom where you sat on the middle of the bed and Ghost sat in a nearby chair from the dining room.

The men worked agonizingly slow, hardly undressing you. Soap's hands held your hips as he sucked on your nipples through the lace of your lingerie as Price's tongue worked between your legs. Gaz kept his mouth occupied on your neck and lips under Ghost's order to not leave any marks. You were his of course and the men would respect that.

Ghost sat in the corner of the room, tugging on himself as his head rolled back. He wasn't going to allow his men to put themselves in you, no, not yet at least. He wasn't ready to give you to them fully but watching the way you choked on your gasps as Price pushed in two of his fingers as if you've never taken a big cock before had his head spinning and wanting to see the way your face would scrunch up in pleasure as your eyes gloss over with tears after being pounded into by three men.

If you're good enough, maybe you could have all of them at once.

[mfxoxo]

He's so nerdy and awkward, gOd it makes him even hotter

[kneelingshadowsalome]

König wants to lie side by side and stare you in the eyes. He read somewhere that having moments of eye contact strengthens the emotional bond between a couple.

...It's just that he wants to be naked when you do it. He calls this 'You & Me time", doesn't even blink as he cradles you in his arms, somehow snuggles his cock inside of you too.

Full, wrinkled balls press flush against your skin as you swallow uncomfortably, his eyes now boring deeper into yours. His dick gives the occasional throb against your walls, and if you try to wriggle out of his grasp or change position, he grunts, very displeased.

[clourey]

“you’re ignoring me,” sae mutters, his expression unreadable.

you, in contrast, are evidently very surprised as your eyes widen and your lips part slightly. you turn to meet his gaze, and your confusion is acknowledged with a scoff.

“you didn’t say ‘i love you’ to me this morning, and you haven’t said it all day.”

his countenance doesn’t falter when he speaks, but there is a faint of hurt laced in his voice.

“baby—” you shift your body towards him, gently cupping his cheeks, “i’m so, so sorry, i must’ve…”

you hesitate to continue, inwardly berating yourself.

your boyfriend has admitted to you before, in a rare moment of vulnerability, how much every ‘i love you’ means to him. how — when he’s distanced himself from the affection of everyone else he knows — much weight an ‘i love you’ from you holds, for him.

what reason were you to give to him? that you simply forgot?

“you must’ve forgotten?”

sae finishes your sentence. it’s better than hearing you say it.

he knows you didn’t mean to hurt him, but what was he to think when you’d forgotten the gesture of love that he thought was firmly rooted in your daily routine? what was he to think when you’d so easily forgotten something that he thought was natural?

“and you still haven’t said it.”

shit, is your only reaction as sae extracts your hands from his face. he shrugs, promptly leaving you desolate in the living room.

was he overreacting? maybe, he thinks, but today was the first time he felt the same as he did before had he met you.

[sailorrhansol]

You. Always. | k.sy (m)

❀ Pairing: Soonyoung x f. Reader 

❀ Summary: Soonyoung isn’t a jealous guy - he’s not. But sometimes it gets to him, the way other people look at you and fall a little in love with you. Don’t they know you have him? 

❀ Word Count: 5055

❀ Genre: Established Relationship, pwp

❀ Type: Smut, a little fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Almost jealous Soonyoung, a little hint of insecurity but nothing crazy, recreational drinking, Mingyu and Wonwoo lowkey being a little annoying and drunk, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex, nipple play, oral (m. receiving), praise kink, pet names like baby and good boy, reader on top, spit and other bodily fluids, not explicit dom/sub dynamics but Soonyoung is very soft in this and reader is guiding him in parts, biting, both reader and Soonyoung are a little dazed and kinda spacy but it’s not explicitly subspace or described in the same way. 

❀ A/N: This is straight up from a dream I had, no joke. Woke up and was like I just had the weirdest dream about Soonyoung but it was in the Bahamas and a cruise ship was involved at some point but this is almost scene for scene from my dream. I feel blessed. 

❀ A/N 2: This was written entirely for @daechwitatamic and also thank you Jo for beta reading because I don’t know how to edit anything ever I’m baby

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀

“Try this one,” Mingyu insists, laughing. He shoves a drink in your hand, all smiles and glittering eyes. You take the cup from him, the music of the club pulsing around you. A soft buzz ripples through you, a little drunk from the long day out in the sun followed by drinks at sunset, dinner and the afterparty. “It’s soooo good.” 

You trust Mingyu’s judgment - about drinks, anyway. Wonwoo cheers for you, clapping to the beat of the music as you bring the cup to your lips and knock it back. The soda mixed in the drink bubbles in the back of your throat but the taste of something strong burns and you cough, pulling the cup from your mouth with a grimace and squinted eyes.

Both of them begin laughing hysterically, throwing back their hands and clapping their hands. You laugh too, setting the cup down as you try and clear your throat from the liquid fire, tongue stuck out as you reach for a sweating glass of water. 

Wonwoo orders more drinks as you suck down water, freeing your mouth of the bitter taste of whatever it is they gave you. You turn on the stool, looking around the beachside club for Soonyoung. You catch him on the far side leaning against a wall, waiting for the bathroom. Sensing your gaze, he cranes his neck to look toward you, eyes pinning you to the spot immediately. 

Even from across the room, his gaze makes your stomach flip. You grin shyly, waving your hand a little. His lips twitch but his gaze shifts toward Mingyu and Wonwoo. His mouth tilts down a little before the bathroom door opens and he turns away entirely, vanishing down the hall. 

A server appears with a round of clear shots, setting them down on the table. Mingyu leans forward, picking one up with the intention of handing it to you, but you wave him off. “I’ll wait for Soonyoung.” 

Mingyu cranes his head. “Yeah, where the fuck did he go? I kind of forgot he was here.”

It isn’t Mingyu’s fault - he hasn’t known you for very long. Soonyoung has a habit of making friends anywhere the two of you go on vacation, though, and through the last week, you’ve managed to make Wonwoo and Mingyu regular friends while enjoying the summer off the coast of Greece. It had started with a volleyball game and now it has escalated to lunches, dinners and nightly escapades. 

Ever the talker - much like your boyfriend - Mingyu turns to the table next to yours and strikes up a conversation with the group of people there. Within a few minutes, he’s pulling their table to yours and shouting their names at you. You shake unfamiliar hands and grin, just happy to feel the balmy air on your skin and feel the heat of summer. 

Another round of drinks appears in clear, plastic cups, obeying the no glass on the beach rule. The beach club is lowkey and tucked away into the side of the mountain at the very end of the beach, requiring a trek through the sand to get there.

The area is open to the elements with wooden pavilions housing a few tables and benches. In the middle of the club is a long, illuminated shallow pool with tables for guests who are willing to take off their shoes and wade through the cool water to get there. 

You look down at the red drink in your hand, raising a brow as you watch everyone else throw the drink back, chugging as quickly as they can. When they put their cups down and realize you haven’t had yours, they immediately start yelling at you, Mingyu grabbing your forearm to shake you back and forth as he pouts and yells at you to chug.

“I’m gonna get too drunk,” you whine, holding onto the cup and trying not to spill the liquid as Mingyu complains. He pouts and gives you puppy eyes, clasping his hands together as he begs. Wonwoo and your new friends immediately join him, all of them peering up at you. 

“Please,” Wonwoo pleads from across the table, clasped hands tucked under his chin. “Please please please please.”

Before you can tip the cup back, it’s being pulled upward and out of your grip. You look up in surprise, mouth falling open as Soonyoung frees it from your grasp and tilts the cup to his lips. You watch as he drains it, head tilted back to expose the tan softness of his throat. Some of the red spills over the side, running down his chin and throat. 

You watch the beads of liquid, suddenly unable to focus on anything else but the way he looks in that moment. When you blink, Soonyoung’s head is no longer tilted as he leans forward to place the empty cup on the table. He doesn’t bother to wipe the red on his neck and you instinctively grab napkins as he throws himself in the booth across from you. 

He notices you holding them out and he takes them wordlessly, his energy shifted suddenly as he wipes the sticky red from his skin. If your new friends notice, they don’t say anything, cheering for him and then ordering more drinks as they shout over the music. 

When he left to use the restroom, your boyfriend had been in high spirits and a rowdy mood. Now, he’s subdued, eyes flickering between Wonwoo and Mingyu, a little darker than before. You frown, finishing the rest of your water as you drink in Soonyoung’s posture: slouched, mouth pouted, eyes narrowed.

Mingyu asks if you want another drink and you watch as Soonyoung’s mouth turns down. Ah. You decline and immediately Mingyu makes Soonyoung the same offer, but he shakes his head, suddenly interested in his phone. You think Mingyu notices this time that one of your party is clearly no longer in the drinking mood and disengages, turning easily to the others.

You nudge Soonyoung’s foot under the table. He looks up at you, a little dejected and shrugs his shoulders as if to say what? You nod your head toward the exit, raising your brows. He follows your meaning  and pauses for a moment, as though he’s torn between ending the night far earlier than usual or trying to endure his mood. 

Eventually, he nods, turning off his phone and shoving it in his pocket. You stand and announce that you’re feeling a little tired, but thank your friends for the drinks. They all immediately complain, begging you to stay for at least one more round.

“It’s always one more round with you all,” you shoot back. “We can catch up another day. I’m tired and honestly I really just want to lay in bed with my boyfriend.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu huffs, waving you off. “Do whatever it is couples do on vacation.”

Without a word, you hold your hand out to Soonyoung to leave. He stares at it for a moment before his mouth twitches upward and he takes it, lacing his fingers with yours. You give him a gentle squeeze as you lead toward the exit of the club, waving to the manager who is used to your group’s presence by now. 

Outside, the world is only lit by the moon. It sits high up in the sky, turning the world a dark blue as you and Soonyoung walk the beach. The quiet tension follows him outside of the club and down a few meters. You wait for him to say something, peeking at him from the corner of your eye.

In the years you’ve been dating, you’ve learned to read him pretty well. You know something about your interaction with Mingyu and Wonwoo bothers him, but you’re unsure of the specifics. Soonyoung isn’t a jealous boyfriend, but every once in a while there is something that bothers him. An old wound that peels open at the edge and stings him. 

You tug on his hand. He’s surprised, stumbling a little as you yank him off balance and into you. His cologne is laced with his own natural scent, making your head spin as your chests press together and you bring a hand up to his face, stroking a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. 

Soonyoung is beautiful. You’ve always thought so. Eyes that can go from intense to gentle, a round face that is somehow also sharp, a cute mouth prone to laughing. You’ve traced the lines of his face over and over again and still, every time you’re this close to him, you feel your heart skip a beat. 

“You’re not jealous, right?” 

He shakes his head imperceptibly. He looks down at you, bottom lip jutting out a bit. You fight a smile, trying to focus on making sure he’s okay instead of the way his face has melted from contemplative to pouting. 

“You can tell me if I did something that made you uncomfortable, you know that right?” 

He nods in tiny. His hands hang at his sides, like he’s hesitant to touch you. To do anything. You take his face in both of your hands, cocking your head to the side as you study him. “What’s the matter, baby? What’s bothering you?”

“I’m not jealous,” he starts and stops. You wait for him to continue. You’ve always been better at putting your thoughts to words than he has, and you know he just needs the time to organize them. “And you never do things that make me jealous. I just…” 

Ocean water surges behind you, the gentle push and pull of the swells the only sound as Soonyoung strings his thoughts together. You continue to cradle his face in your hands, thumb stroking back and forth on his cheek. You feel him lean into your touch, going a little weak under your attention. 

“I just know how easy it is to love you,” he finally says. He chews his bottom lip a little and you catch it with your thumb, keeping him from breaking the skin. “You are beautiful and charming, and I can always tell when other people realize it too. It isn’t that… I think you’d like them back or anything. I just feel possessive and then silly for feeling that way.” 

“It isn’t silly.”

“It isn’t?” 

You shake your head and his voice gets small and soft. “I don’t want it to seem insecure or annoying, and I don’t know why I suddenly felt that way. I usually don't.”

“It’s not silly,” you assure him again. “It’s okay to feel that way sometimes. You’re a human being and you’re allowed to feel things, even if you don’t necessarily know why or how you feel them.” 

“I’m sorry I made us leave early.”

“You didn’t make us do anything, and there is nothing to apologize for. I like going home and just spending time with you. I came here with you. We can make vacation friends all we want, but I have the most fun when you’re involved.”

His mouth twitches in a smile and he nods a little, affirmed by your words. “Can we go home?” 

“Mhmm.”

You lean up on your toes and press a quick kiss to his mouth. Immediately he wants more, chasing your lips but you skip away from him, tugging him along by his hand. He frowns, a little put out. You try not to giggle, feeling your stomach flip a little. 

Soonyoung is so rare like this. He loves being soft, but this is something even gentler. Something delicate and wonderful and endearing. You can’t help but keep him trailing after you, feeling the way his eyes linger on you. Hungry. Wanting. Needing. 

You keep him waiting. 

Catching a taxi up the mountain to the house you’re staying at is easy. The driver rolls the window down, letting the salty air drift in as he goes up and up. You lean against Soonyoung’s shoulder, putting your entwined hands in your lap. He melts into you, head atop yours and eyes fluttering shut as the breeze lifts his hair. 

You love him like this. He looks so young, so capable of love. It’s your favorite thing about him, his ability to love freely, deeply and often. There is so much affection and kindness in him, a well so deep that you have yet to hit the bottom. 

Soonyoung is a little drowsy when the taxi pulls up to the village square. He rouses with a mumbled thank you and clambours out the car behind you, eager to follow your lead up the winding steps that lead through the village houses.

It’s mostly quiet, with the echoes of voices drifting up from open windows and patios, the din of voices from restaurants in the main square hanging on the wind. You manage not to get lost this time as you navigate the winding pathways to the correct house, the blue fence blending in with the dozen other blue fences. 

The cicadas are quiet as you walk down the steps to the front of the home. You tap Soonyoung’s pockets and he blushes, forgetting he has the keys. He’s quick to produce them and pass them over, watching you expectantly as you unlock it and step into the darkness. 

Cool air drifts in from the open windows. There’s no air conditioning in the rented house, but the ocean wind that comes in at night through open shutters is enough to cool you off. 

Soonyoung is quiet. He follows your lead up the stairs to the second floor where the bedroom is, lingering in the doorway when you drop his hand and turn to face him as you walk backward into the room. He’s hypnotized as you unbutton the top of your shirt slowly, staring at him. 

The way he looks at you ignites a fire inside of you. No one else could look at you like this, equal parts reverence and hunger. No one else could make your hands shake as you stare at him staring at you, his lips parted a little, tongue darting out to wet them as he swallows. 

Your blouse falls open and you shuck it off, letting it hit the floor. Moonlight paints your side profile. Soonyoung doesn’t dare move from the door until you hold out a hand, palm upward. “Come here,” you whisper. He obeys immediately, nearly tripping over his feet to get to you. 

His hands go around your waist, warm against your skin. You wind your arms around his neck, pulling him in close, fingers threading in his hair and pulling a little. He lets out a soft sound as you tilt his face toward yours, forcing him to meet your eyes. His pupils are blown and you can feel his heart thundering against yours. 

“You know I love you more than anything else, right?” For a second, he just stares at you, eyes fixated on your mouth. You pull his hair a little more and he sucks in a sharp breath before nodding a little. He seems too dazed to do more than the barest acknowledgement. “Do you want me to show you?” 

You lean up to brush your nose against his. Soonyoung’s eyes fall shut and you feel a shiver go through him. His breath is unsteady when you brush your mouth against his in an almost kiss. “Do you want me to show you how much I love you, Soonyoung?” 

He nods again, unable to find words. Your nails scratch at his scalp gently and he lets out a breathy moan, melting in your hands. “Okay,” you whisper, pressty a soft kiss to his mouth. He tries to chase your lips again but you step back and tug at him. “Come lay down.” 

Soonyoung obeys. He’s always been a good boy, but having him like this isn’t common. You like to think that you’re both equal parts in charge in the bedroom, flowing with whatever the other needs. Having him like this, sitting down on the bed and looking up at you like you cradle his world in your hands though… it lights you up. 

“Lay back for me,” you instruct gently. He does immediately, bouncing a little on the mattress. You climb onto the mattress, knees on either side of his waist as you crawl up toward him, settling your weight on his hips. Immediately his hands reach toward your hips and stop, hovering as he gets stuck between doing what he wants and waiting for you to tell him. “Go ahead,” you whisper, leaning toward him. “Take whatever you want. You can have whatever.” 

Warm hands grip your waist. Your fingers expertly undo the buttons of his shirt and you make sure to brush them against his stomach as you move upward. You feel the muscles jump and he lets out another breathy sound. His hands just remain on your sides, not ready to explore more as he fixates on the way you pull his shirt off of his shoulders.

He’s a little clumsy when he leans up to help you shuck it off. You don’t care, surging forward to capture his mouth in a full kiss as he does. He forgets all about taking the shirt off, sleeves halfway down his arms as he leans forward to lick into your mouth, hungry and desperate for whatever you’ll give him.

You don’t hold back, letting him consume you. His mouth is warm and wet, tasting faintly of cherry from one of the drinks he had earlier. You love it, humming delightly as your hands brush from his shoulders to where his shirt is stuck near the elbows. You tug but the material is restricted, making you break away from the kiss with a laugh. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, letting your hips go to take the shirt all the way off. 

Immediately your hands seek the heat of his skin, brushing from his shoulders to his chest and down his stomach and back up, fingers loving every groove and plane. He shivers under your touch, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re so pretty,” you whisper, pushing him back gently so that he’s laying down again. He lets you trace him, though you can feel his hips twitch under you, turned on by your exploration. “So pretty, Soonyoung. Do you know that?” 

Again, he gives the tiniest nod. You smile and lean forward, holding yourself up by planting a hand on either side of his head. You catch his mouth again and he lifts his head up, eager to taste you. A hum of appreciation escapes you as you kiss him slowly, pressing your hips down into his. 

Soonyoung moans and it’s so delicate that it makes you dizzy. You feel fucked out from this version of him already, the room spinning as you rut gently into him. You grab his hands that rest on your ass and pull them up your sides to your bra, a command. 

He understands immediately, pulling at the clasps to undo the back. You break the kiss again, mouth feeling bruised, to lean up and toss the garment. His hands find your chest immediately and you feel goosebumps burst on your skin at his touch, large hand squeezing. 

You let him rub his thumb over your pert nipples, spiking the pleasure in your stomach. You let out a light sound and shiver in his hands, ducking back down to press your mouth to his lips, the corner of his mouth, his chin - anywhere you can kiss. 

His skin is salty and sweet, your tongue darting out to soothe his flesh after a sharp bite. He’s putty beneath you, completely at your mercy as your mouth maps out the way you love him. Every kiss, bite and lick is another declaration: I love you. I love you. I love you. 

Light moans drip from his lips as you pepper him with kisses. Dragging your teeth across his chest lightly, you watch as he shivers and squeezes his eyes shut. Grinning, you move your mouth over his nipple, tongue flicking out lightly. A sharp hiss escapes through his gritted teeth, his head digging backward into the bed as he arches under you. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. 

A hum escapes you as you close your mouth over his nipple, sucking gently. He’s so sensitive, whining and squeezing your sides. You trail your mouth across his chest, leaving a wet trail as you do before dragging your teeth across his other nipple. 

“Pretty,” you mumble again, moving your mouth lower. You teeth at his skin as you go, feeling him twitch beneath you. His hands drop to the sheet, twisting them in a vice grip as he lets you scoot down his lap until you’re off the bed and on the carpet, undoing his pants as you go. 

Getting him out of his pants is hard - Soonyoung is loose-limbed and clumsy, hands shaking as he helps you pull the fabric down followed by his briefs. You let out an appreciative moan when you take his cock in your hand, heavy, warm and leaking at the tip. 

He can barely keep it together when you stroke him, hand firm, thumb brushing over the sticky tip. You watch every reaction, eyes focused on the flush in his cheeks, the way he chews on his bottom lip to try and keep from whimpering, the way his fingers twist in the blankets. 

“So perfect,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss his inner thighs as you continue to work him with your hand. His hips twitch upward and you let him, continuing to run your tongue along his thigh. “You’re the perfect boyfriend.” 

“Hnnn,” is the mumbled answer. 

Leaning up high on your knees, you tilt his cock toward your mouth, licking leisurely around the tip. He keens and you smirk, feeling your cunt clench as you take him in your mouth properly, spurred on by the way he falls apart instantly. 

This is another thing you love. It doesn’t matter the dynamic, Soonyoung always crumbles at your touch - craves it, needs it, wants it more than anything. It’s hard not to feel like a god as you hear him pant your name, watch the way the breath catches in his throat as you take him deep into your throat, the flat of your tongue scraping the underside of his cock as you go. 

You’re not clean with it. You let spit drip out the corner of your mouth, let yourself gag a little. Work what you can’t fit past your lips with the rest of your hand, getting carried away. His hand shoots to your head - he doesn’t push or pull, just leaves it there, like it can ground him.

Pulling off with a loud pop, you give his shaft a squeeze, kissing the inside of his thigh again. A mix of cum and spit shine in the moonlight when you pull your mouth away. 

“I love seeing you like this,” you rasp. “Love watching you fall apart.”

“Please,” he gasps, managing to lift his head up and look down at you. His hair is damp with sweat and his eyes are fucked out, gaze unfocused. “Don’t wanna come in your mouth.”

“I’ve got you.” You give a single, long lick up his shaft for good measure, feeling him tremble before you stand up to take your pants off. He makes a pitiful sound, hand shooting toward you, hating being away from you. “One second, baby. Sorry.” 

“S’okay.” 

Naked, you crawl up the bed again. His hands shoot to your thighs, kneading the flesh and rubbing his palms up and down, warming you up. You feel the wetness drip down your thighs, worked up from working him up. From the way he moans when you press your pussy to his cock, you know he can feel it. 

“All good?” you ask gently, pressing your forehead against his. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing hard, a sheen of sweat on his brow. You hold yourself over him with one hand and bring the other up to brush the hair off his forehead. “Too much?”

He shakes his head. “No, just. Sensitive.”

“Mhmm. You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”He nods in tiny, opening his eyes to look up at you like you’re the sun, the moon, and all of his stars. “Good boy,” you breathe and he moans, hips canting upward to rub his cock against your folds. “I love you.”

He nods again, eager and desperate. “Love you.”

Sitting up on your knees, you reach a hand under you, gripping him firmly. Soonyoung opens his eyes, making sure to watch your every move with swollen, parted lips and half-lidded eyes. You feel drunk from the way he looks at you, as hypnotized by him as he is of you.

You press the tip of his cock against your entrance, both of you groaning. Carefully, you sink down on him, your breath getting stuck in your throat. The stretch punches the breath from your lungs but it’s good, the ache replaced with something stronger, better. He fills up every part of you - you feel him deep in your stomach as you fully seat yourself on him, ass pressed to his pelvis as you fight for air. 

“Fuck, Soonyoung,” you mutter, falling forward to plant a hand on his chest. You lean your weight forward, pushing him into the mattress and holding yourself up. You can feel his thundering heart under your palm, beat matching your own pounding pulse. “Feel so good.”

“Wanna be. Wanna be for you.”

“You are. You always are. I could never want anything else, you know that right?” A tiny, barely there nod. “You make me feel so good. Always do.” 

“Please.”

You know what he’s asking. You give it to him, slowly lifting yourself until you’ve almost pulled off him entirely. You drop back down hard, knocking the breath from your lungs as you spear yourself on him. It is intoxicatingly good, pleasure rippling outward like a stone dropped in a lake. You chase the feel, repeating the motion until you’re nearly mindless and out of breath. 

“Shit,” you swear, laughing a little as your head drops down. You can’t focus on anything but rolling your hips, fucking yourself onto him as his hands grab your ass, not controlling you but gripping fiercely. “God damn fuck.”

Soonyoung laughs, deep and gravely as the cockiness you’re used to bleeds back in for a moment. “Yeah?”

You clench your cunt as you sink down on him, making him let out a high-pitched noise at the move and you grin. “Yeah,” you shoot back. “Thought so.” 

A knot twists in your stomach as you set a smooth pace, thighs burning. Pleasure ribbons through you, twisting and turning, his hands dimpling your flesh. He lets you keep your pace at first, taking everything you give him, his feet planted flat on the mattress as he tries to contain himself, curses escaping between clenched teeth.

Your legs tremble. Your nails dig into the hard muscle of his chest. He senses your movements get a little strained, the pleasure making it harder to focus on lifting yourself. You feel his grip on your ass change, Soonyoung putting power behind it to help lift you up and pull you back down. He thrusts up to meet you, the wet squelch of his harder thrusts intoxicating. 

“Fuck yeah,” you gasp, giving up the pretense of riding him and letting him take over. “Fuck me just like that.” 

It’s all he needs before his grip turns iron and he’s fucking up into you with abandon. Your hand slips on his chest as the power of his thrusts knock you off balance. You let yourself crash together, chest against chest. Soonyoung wraps his arms around your back, holding you to him. 

Your mouth finds his neck, burying your face in there as you try to steady your breathing. It feels like your heart might explode, his name falling from your lips as you press them against his neck. He mumbles something unintelligible, pace picking up. 

“Shit,” you pant. “Shit shit shit shit - Soonyoung - shit.” 

He huffs, something like laughter before his pace is brutal. He fucks you fast and deep, your mind blanking as you crest upward. All you can do is hold on to him, mouth panting against his throat, your muscles squeeze squeeze squeezing until you’re coming hard. 

Everything goes blank. Your ears ring and you’re vaguely aware of his wild thrusts as he chases his orgasm. You melt in his grip, letting him use you, completely boneless. 

Soonyoung growls your name as he comes, pace slowing as he fucks you deep until he stills. You feel the stickiness between you and the way he’s still shaking. You rise and fall with his heavy breathing, both of your heartbeats erratic and thoughts staticky. 

You lay there like that for a while, a pile of exhausted limbs and few thoughts. His arms loosen their grip around you and he starts rubbing his hands up and down your back. It draws you back into the moment more and you open your eyes to look up at him. 

Soonyoung’s eyes are closed and his breathing is deep. You can tell he isn’t asleep, but rather enjoying the moment, his face tilted toward the window where the moon floats over the mountains. He looks so pretty like this, face soft and serene. 

“You’re staring at me,” he murmurs, his voice low and spent. “You could at least tell me I’m pretty.”

“I just did. Several times.”

His mouth tilts upward but he doesn’t open his eyes. “I like hearing it.”

“Fine. You’re the prettiest boy.” 

“Hmm. Yeah?”

“Yes. And I love you.”

“Say it again.” Soonyoung opens his eyes and they meet yours. They’re clearer now, and crinkled at the sides when he gives you a smile that feels far too innocent for the fluids running down your thighs and the way your cunt still clenches around him. “I like when you say it.”

“I love you.” 

He smirks. “Just me?”

You lean up and nip his neck. He giggles, leaning away from you. “You. Always.” 

He sighs. “Me,” he agrees. “Always.” 

-

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[roguerambles]

Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus: "Lord Zeus, you repeatedly broke your marriage vows, having numerous affairs, including with your son's wife--"

Ares: "Wait, what?!"

Hera: "I FUCKING KNEW IT--"

Zeus: "...."

Reader: "Oh, great--"

Hades: *sips wine*

Ares: "You've been fucking my FATHER?!"

Reader: "I don't know what you're yelling at me for, you've been bedding Aphrodite our entire marriage!"

Aphrodite: "I'd rather not be involved in this, thank you--"

Hermes: "I think it's a little late for that, don't you?"

Ares: "THAT'S NOT THE SAME--"

Reader: "HOW IN THE UNDERWORLD IS IT NOT--?"

Minos: "....if we could perhaps focus on--"

Courtroom full of yelling Gods: "NOT NOW."

Zeus: "....I'm going to Tartarus, aren't I?"

Hades: *sips wine*

[gazspookiebear]

Mmm, thinking about Ghost going on a date with reader after not having been in a proper relationship in years

He was never one for hookups, and he could never keep long-term relationships. Most lasted about a month at most before he backed out.

Fast forward to now, he's been invited out by you. He figures it'll be like most other dates, a quick dinner at a noisy restaurant before he gets overwhelmed and leaves.

To his surprise, it isn't. You kept his comfort in mind and suggested a walk by the bay instead.

When he walks beside you in silence, you don't seem to take offense. In fact, you don't seem to mind at all. You fill in his silence with easy conversation, keeping it focused on you and not trying to pry into his personal life.

You don't hesitate when he responds with one word answers, instead taking the opportunity to discuss an interest of your own. By the time it's long past dark out, you offer to take him home, apologizing for not acknowledging the time sooner. He didn't want to stop listening to your voice

When he declines your offer, you smile. You tell him to stay safe, to rest well, and to text you when he gets home.

At his apartment, he can't stop thinking about you. About how polite and kind you were. About how you actually cared about his feelings, how you weren't off put by him.

He glances at his phone.

You receive a text at 1 in the morning. A simple 'Back safe.'

[captainswhore]

you see price sitting like this when you walk into a room post mission- and you know exactly what it is he needs.

he's licking at you and holding your thighs open with his rough palms- and you can't take it. his calluses and his beard and the fabric of his sleeves are rubbing at your legs just right- but not enough for you to lose focus on his hot tongue rubbing on you and in you and you've never been wetter in your LIFE.

his only problem? you're still moving too much. he can't reach where he wants to inside of you because you keep wiggling out of his way. his hands want to touch you everywhere- not just hold your thighs still. this is when he begins to squeeze at you everywhere, and tell you to rest your thighs on his shoulders.

"b-but price- hhnngh ohmygod- i c-can't. they're too big. thighs are too big"

you whine at the loss of contact, but then you look down and see him staring at you with massive pupils and a wet face. "lovie- my shoulders are broad for a reason. rest your thighs on em and i swear they'll have enough room"

and you listen, and you're crushing his ears with your thighs, and he's never been happier. the next time you look down? he's rutting into the mattress and you see his hips stutter when he groans into you and your vision goes white

(@chamomiletealeaf and i had SUCH A HORNY discussion about this and she told me to post it so here i am- and also omg photo creds to her. we've gotta reign it in lmfao)

[arkarti]

what if: the forbidden kiss option 😳

uhh by popular demand XD since y'all really liked that TCS part

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