#nice feels strange to just say by itself

[chocodaffodil]

I couldn't decide who Rinne would chant gay to and then I saw this guy and found my target

Inspired by ivantill fanart I saw on instagram! (it's the 3rd slide)

[pizzapizzadickz]

I've been popping pills like they're candy lately. (Also known as I've been in pain a lot and my allergies are horrible bc of all the mold in my room).

[nereidprinc3ss]

no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

in which spencer reid is gentle with overwhelmed fem!reader after sex

18+ (fluff, implied intimacy) warnings/tags: it's just aftercare, but like psychological aftercare, implied intimacy duh, vague descriptions of sex but nothing explicit, hurt/comfort without the hurt, allusions to postcoital dysphoria, reader cries but its not really sad, spencer reid is so kind i wish men were real, i think that is all a/n: guess who wrote an entirely different thing instead of touching her wips..... AGAIN...... this bitch cant do anything omggg!! but this was based on a request so go me also what a strange time to be posting but it's only 1k words and nobody can stop me

“Hey. Are you with me, angel?”

You blink your eyes open in the dark room—reorienting yourself to the tangle of your bodies. How many minutes has it been?

“Hm?”

He chuckles—a quick huff from his nose as he brings a hand up to push hair from your face. 

“I asked you if you’re with me.”

It takes you a moment to answer. You’re still trying to make sense of where you are in space, each sensation coming back to you one by one—the weight and pressure of him against you, the slip of cotton sheets and a cool breeze from the cracked window over your heated sticky skin. 

“Oh.”

It’s not much of an answer and your voice is small. For a moment he lets it sit, cupping your warm cheek. Your eyes flutter shut again. His voice comes gentler, dipped in concern. 

“You okay?”

This time you don’t try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he’ll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you’re sure you won’t float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately. 

“Can you answer me?” He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position. And then, a moment later— “Baby. I wanna hear your voice.”

“Mhm,” you manage. 

Spencer rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry. 

“Wasn’t too much? You’re not hurting anywhere?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can’t seem to get him close enough. 

“Mm-mm.”

It’s not entirely true—your legs are sore, but it’s nothing that needs tending to, and your lower back is a bit crampy, but he’s already working on that. 

He hums. “You’re pretty out of it, sweet girl. What’s going on with you?”

Spencer is always careful with you. He’d never hurt you, or sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure. That said, he’s just as passionate as you are. The stretch of your arms above your head is still fresh in your mind—the ghost of his grip, pressing your wrists into the mattress, or pushing your leg up, or pulling you exactly where he wanted you by the hips. It’s all wonderful, and you never feel safer than you do when you’re with him, but it doesn’t make you feel any less vulnerable, any less raw, after all is said and done. Maybe it’s precisely because you trust him so much that you’re so sensitive afterward. But he never, ever makes you feel bad for having an intense reaction to an intense experience. He always meets you where you’re at. That in itself makes you emotional. Spencer is different than any of the partners you’d had before. 

Again, he’s patient as you try to process his question and work up a response. Maybe a minute later, you’re breathing out something that feels true. 

“Overwhelmed.”

The word is a tap against glass you didn’t know was there until it’s fracturing like a spiderweb. With no warning, and for no good reason, you find yourself choked up. 

“Oh,” he says, sympathetic and drawn out as understanding sets in. “Do you need me to back off for a minute?”

You squeeze him even fiercer and shake your head, unable to stop the tears from drawing their shiny paths down your cheeks and sinking into the weave of the pillow case. 

“Shh. You’re okay,” he murmurs, quiet and slow and almost sing-songy as he smooths your hair, though you know he doesn’t really expect you to stop crying. “You’re okay, pretty. Remember what I said about all the hormonal shifts in your body after you come?”

Once more you nod against him with a small, shuddering sniffle. 

“And how sometimes your body regulates by crying? Kind of like a… a reset button?”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm.” He shifts from rubbing your back to tracing light lines in shapeless patterns with the blunt edges of his nails, and your breath catches before you’re melting in his hold. “It’s okay to have big or confusing feelings after sex. It’s actually really common. I just want you to be honest with me about those feelings, right? So we can keep you safe?”

“Right.”

“Would you tell me if you were hurting, or if something I did or said was bothering you?”

“Yes.”

If you were looking at him you know he’d be smiling ever so slightly at your monosyllabic responses, charting an upward path with his hand and pushing it through your hair at the nape of your neck. “You can just nod, baby. You don’t have to talk. I know you’re tired.”

You make a small noise of gratitude and nuzzle closer, feeling better as the tears slow, quickly as they’d come. 

“Do you want a bath in a little while?”

Another nod. He scratches at your scalp. “Okay. We’ll do a bath, and then dinner, and then I’m finally going to make you watch that documentary about Helvetica. It’s a little outdated, and there are a few basic errors about the origin and development of the font as well as misinformation about the typeface subgroup in general, but I can amend those as we watch and afterward we can read the director’s tenth anniversary statement. I was waiting to read it until we watched it together.”

Spencer knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll fall asleep ten minutes in, curled up on the couch under a blanket in your biggest hoodie with your head on his lap and his hand in your hair, just like this. 

He’s actually really looking forward to it.

[inkskinned]

i love my therapist but i hate being in therapy. 10 minutes before my appointment, i'm in a meeting with my boss - we discuss my artistic choices; my boss recommends i artistically choose less. 10 minutes after therapy, i wash my hair and think about everything that was said, and then i have to switch it off, like a lamp, and go back to work again.

i was on a walk the other day and someone had the perfect combination of his cologne and whatever-else. it was almost exactly his scent. i fucking hate that. after all these years, i remember that? i tell my therapist - i feel like a fucking wolf. try telling a middle-aged blonde lady. oh i scented him on the air. i'm 30, and i'm having a panic attack over something that would be a plotline in the omegaverse.

what they don't tell you about mental illness is that if you are lucky enough to survive it into adulthood; it becomes a weird slice of your life. because you do, eventually, have to build a life. i realized in a panic somewhere around 22 - oh. i don't know what i'm fucking doing, because i always assumed i'd just go ahead and die. i didn't die, and i'm grateful for that, and i'm very happy about that choice. but it does mean that i am an adult in an apartment, living with my conditions side-by-side like. oh, that's my roommate, adhd. ignore the glass, bytheway, that's ocd.

so you pick your stupid life up by the scruff of the neck and you're, like glad for it (so much laughter and light and friends you would have never thought possible, when you were in the worst of it). but it feels so strange to be dancing around these odd little microcosms, these patchwork moments of your symptoms. if you have a panic attack at night, you still need to wake up and walk the dog in the morning. if your depression is making everything boring, well, you don't have any sick days left, and a job's not really supposed to be that exciting anyway. your ocd tears out each individual leg hair, and then, an hour later, you sigh, patch up the bloody bits, and go get dinner with friends. and the life is kitten-quiet, mewling and pathetic, but it's also like - it's yours, so you're fond of it.

and it's like - you're real. so you still enjoy pushing the shopping cart really fast and then riding on the back of it down an empty aisle. and you're not, like, so sick anymore that when you accidentally drop a mug you burst into tears (except for the days you do that. which are bad). and no, you're not allowed around certain items anymore. oops! but you've learned to be good about brushing your teeth most days of the week. and yeah sometimes in the middle of the day you have a little freak-out about how fucking unfair it all is, how fucking hard, how other people can just do this without having to fucking hurt the whole time. and then you sigh and force yourself to sit down and fucking journal about it so you can tell the nice middle-aged blonde woman yeah i had a hard day but i practiced grounding. you still sometimes want to burst out of your own skin, but you force yourself to eat kind-of healthy and to take your vitamins. you let yourself chop off all your hair in the sink in a dramatic poetry of control and relief - and you also have developed good hobbies that help you move your body more frequently. you feel helplessly behind, lost in the shuffle - but you also practice gratitude, taking stock of what you have garnered. because you're trying. even if you're never gonna be normal, you have something... close enough.

and the little kitten of your life, this mangy, starlit tigercub, this thing you expected to rot so young: in your arms, it turns itself over, belly-up. exposing this new soft part, all the organs and guts. like it's saying i trust you now. you won't give me up.

[lucidfairies]

LET'S PLAY

pairing: ghostface!Abby x reader x ghostface!Ellie

synopsis: you've always been afraid of scary movies, but when abby recreates one of her favorites with some help from her best friend... lets just say you face your fears.

warnings: fear kink (?), threesome, pussy eating, strap usage, gendered pet names, double penetration + anal [r! receiving], face riding [e! + r! receiving], scissoring [a + e], very brief gendered talk ("but my sweet girl can take it, can't she?"), unrealistic squirting

wc: 2k

a/n: hi guys! to be fully transparent with you guys, I've been extremely busy over the last couple of weeks and have no chance to write. on top of that I'm extremely under the weather right now, so this is the only Halloween shot I have written. 😭😭 I'm really sorry that it worked out this way, maybe I can finish and post the others later on!

it was halloween. finally halloween. and the conditions were perfect. the dark night sky was filled with grey clouds that stuck out from the moonlight, fog had been gathering all day, so that once trick or treating started for the little kids and partying started for the older kids, it was just right. you had different plans on your mind, though. tonight it would be just you and Abby, with movies, popcorn, and definitely some costumes.

in all honesty, halloween scared you in the slightest. the movies that Abby often wanted to watch were gruesome, and you wound up with your hands over your eyes, merely listening to the shrieks and stabbings. abby loved it, though, so you found it in your heart to get over it.

that fear, however, resurrected itself when the clock passed eleven, knowing she was supposed to be home at nine-thirty. you had texted her a number of times at this point, even called her, with no response. it was more than strange; in all the years you and abby had been together, she had never, ever missed a halloween.

at a certain point you sighed and got off the couch, accepting that she apparently just wasn't coming home. you went down to your room, changing and laying down to sleep. you tossed and turned, not used to a bed without her body in it. after a while, you laid on your back with a huff, grabbing your phone to text her again.

before you could press send, you heard an aggressive jingle of the lock on the front door. it didn't stop, and you were slammed with the feeling that someone was trying to to get in. someone was trying to to get in. a bat hid behind your door, and you ran over to grab it before leaving your bedroom. you looked over your shoulder, into every room, but you didn't see anything. the kitchen was dark once you walked into it, and as you went to flick the lights on, you felt a strong hand on your hip that pulled you back, covering your mouth with their other hand.

the bat was ripped from your hands by a second person, and you screamed, but the hand covering your mouth was gloved and masked the sound. you could feel the captors heart beating and their chest rise and fall.

“sorry I'm late,”

it was abby. abby who followed you through your house and abby whose hand was over your mouth. the lights flicked on and you were faced with a different person, dressed in a ghost face mask and it's matching rags. you pushed out of abby's grip and turned to face her, realizing that she also had a mask on.

“what the fuck abby?” you quietly shrieked. “what was that? you scared me.” the light caught the knife in her hand, and suddenly a pit developed in your stomach. it was fear, flat, undoubtable, fear. “why do you have a knife?” she walked towards you slowly until your back was against the wall.

“don't worry baby, we're just gonna play,” her large body encased you. “you remember ellie, don't you sweet girl?” you nodded slowly, tears welling up in your tear ducts. “my poor baby, don't cry, we're gonna be real nice to you.” when she said that, you finally came to the realization as to what was happening. this is why abby loves the scary movies. she likes the control; the fear. you relaxed. “do you trust me, pretty girl?” you looked at her through the mask and nodded slowly. “do you trust me to not hurt you?” you nodded again.

“let's play then, baby.”

that's how you ended up here, on your back, with ellie on your face and abby between your legs. ellie had a hand in your hair, forcing you to look up at her while you ate her out. she was grinding down on your tongue, chanting your name as she chest rose and fell quickly. she had definitely already come, but she was using you to get off.

abby, however, had a strap buried deep in your cunt. you two hadn't used a strap before, you didn't even know where she got it, all you knew and could think about was how much she was filling you. the mask was still covering her face, but you almost got off to it. she had your legs pushed up to your chest, drilling her hips into your ass over and over, going even after your orgasm had lit up your body.

finally she let up, but you knew you weren’t even close to done. ellie got off your face and they both looked at each other, as if they were coming to a conclusion by just looking at each other, then they both looked over at you. abby discarded her mask and tossed it into the pile of clothes, loosening the harness from her hips and throwing it along with everything else. “get up,” ellie said, replacing you as you stood up. “sit on my face, sweets. face abby like the pretty thing you are.” the position was weird, but somehow it worked. you were backwards on ellie’s face, but her skilled tongue still managed to find everything you needed just right.

abby lifted ellie’s leg up, shifting herself between her lifted leg and her dripping center, rolling her hips down until they were both moaning. with the hand that wasn’t keeping ellie’s leg steady, abby grabbed you by the throat and brought your lips to hers, moaning into your mouth as your tongues met. ellie was so good at eating pussy, you almost didn’t want to pick between her and abby. maybe tonight meant that you could have both of them whenever you wanted.

ellie fucked you with her tongue while her thumb found your clit, spreading your wetness and her saliva over it and rubbing in rhythmic, slow circles. you were all but pushing all your weight onto abby, who was still riding ellie’s pussy. now, though, her head was back, neck exposed. you regained your headspace slightly, just enough to run your lips along her neck and suck. your lips traveled to her tits, marking her in a way you hadn’t before.

you stopped as soon as you felt your orgasm building quickly, instead opting for your previous option of grabbing her for support. it seemed as if you both were in the same boat, because her face scrunched up in focus, like it did every time she came. your head was on her shoulder as you came, whimpering at just how good it felt. ellie didn’t let a drop miss her tongue.

abby stood up, and you zoned in on how both of their pussies were covered in each other’s cum. your pupils were wide, your mouth was basically hanging open with drool. abby looked at you and chuckled. “wanna clean me up, sweetheart?” you got up from the bed and kneeled in front of her, assuming that’s what she wanted you to do, and waited for her to spread her legs. she leaned against the wall and propped her leg up on your shoulder, letting you lap at her until everything was gone. it tasted so good, so much like abby with a hint of ellie. it was the perfect blend.

though you wanted to lick up ellie too, she had already cleaned off with a bed sheet. “I have one more thing to try, if you’re up for it, baby.” you nodded profusely, and both girls looked at each other with a smirk. “get on the edge of the bed in doggy.” you did as told, putting your knees on the edge of the bed and arching your back so that your face was in the comforter. “good girl,” abby cooed, reaching down to pick up her harness and clip it on again. ellie also pulled one out from the jumble of clothes, and you wondered where hers was going to go. in the bedside drawer, abby pulled out a small bottle of lube, which she must have snuck in at some point earlier in the day to prepare.

earlier, when all of this started, you didn’t need lube, so you couldn’t understand what that was for. until both girls walked behind you. you felt the tip of one of their straps rubbing against your ass and you leaped forward, ill prepared. “this is gonna be a big stretch, baby, but my sweet girl can take it, can’t she?” you hummed at abby’s words, sucking in a harsh breath as her strap entered a new place. it was certainly different, but it felt so good. it was just the stretch you wanted, and it got even better when you felt ellie running the tip of her strap up and down your folds.

when ellie pushed her strap into you along with abby’s, the earth froze. “fuck, babe, look at your slut,” from what you could see, they were both admiring the way your stretched for them. You weren’t going to deny that it hurt a little, but with the way they were looking at you and the way ellie kept hitting exactly where you needed to plus the stretch of both of them, it made up for the slight discomfort.

once they gained a rhythm, you had them railing you at the same time, strokes hard and fast, with ellie’s large, skinny hands wrapped around your waist to keep you up. your hands grasped the bedsheets tightly, listening to your body as you neared closer and closer to finishing. there was another feeling building, one you hadn’t felt before, but you made an effort to ignore it. The closer you got, the noisier you became, moaning and grunting with every thrust until you were twitching on the edge of release.

the weird feeling that you were ignoring came back hard and fast, sitting somewhere strange in your bladder. it was like the urge to pee, but with some form of pleasure to it. they pulled it out of you with their harshness, making you squirt hard as you finished. you rolled your hips back at how strong your orgasm was, tears running down your face and creating a pool on the comforter.

you felt strangely empty as they both pulled out, unclipping both of their harnesses yet again and tossing them. “you did such a good job angel. let’s get cleaned up.” you all showered together, then abby surprised you with matching pajamas. ellie was packing up her stuff and you frowned.

“stay,” you said, and she looked up at you and smiled. “we can watch a movie. you can leave in the morning. don’t drive home in the dark.” she sat her backpack down and climbed into bed with the both of you. abby rolled over to grab the remote and turned on scream, just for the irony.

taglist: @inukastan1 @elliecoochieeater @pepperflakess @hastasupern0va @jazzys19 @purring4elliewilliams @decaffeinatedclodbagelweasel @lonelyfooryouonly @heyimrye (if your not tagged it said your account did not exist, I apologize)

[traaanskimkitsuragi]

yooo tlovm season 2 is actually so good so far 👀

[mrsshabana]

This request can go on the back burner, but an idea struck me with the force of a ton of bricks when I say your post about incel Gyutaro.

What about a little story where Gyutaro is trying to join a fraternity, to impress girls, and it's hazing time~ They make the pledges strip down to their boxers and wear blindfolds. The frat guys got a bunch of pretty girls together to write on their bodies with washable markers. Compliments or insults. The one with the most compliments from different girls joins tonight, and the one with the least has to walk home in his underwear. The others just get their clothes back and can stay at the party.

Reader is heartbroken by the amount of insults on Gyutaro's body with no compliments. So she puts on red lipstick and kisses all of his birthmarks! And writes in the lipstick. He's still losing, but he definitely won't mind as much anymore. Also, I feel like this is a mouthful if you don't wanna post my ask, itself, that's fine.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐥 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary Gyutaro thinks joining a fraternity will help him impress girls, but it results in him getting hazed and utterly humiliated. Though you end up making it all worth it. Maybe it did help him impress girls after all. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, smut, MDNI, incel Gyutaro, college au, angst, humiliation, hazing, vaginal sex, creampie, premature ejaculation ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 2.6k words. THIS MIGHT BE THE BEST ASK I'VE SEEN ALL YEAR. I KID YOU NOT - AS SOON AS I SAW THIS I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT EVERY MOMENT SINCE. This ended up being some of my best writing, thank you so much for this request ♡

You've seen some crazy shit since you've joined a sorority but nothing quite like this. It's nothing new that the fraternity guys on Greek row like holding strange events and wild parties. But you never thought they'd invite you and some of your fellow sorority members over to haze some rookies.

A line of almost naked men stand before you, blindfolded and in nothing but their boxers. You and the other girls are tasked with writing comments about their appearance on their bodies with a marker. Compliments or insults, both are encouraged.

Most of them just look like your everyday frat boy, with lots of them having abs and large muscles. The only one that stands out is the guy at the end. You can already tell he doesn't belong in this crowd by how pale he is. Not spending the summer drinking beers at the lake and getting a nice tan? Who the hell is this guy? He looks like the type that stays inside all day playing video games and watching hentai.

And that's not all - his body stands out in many other ways as well. He's really skinny and his hip bones protrude in an unnatural way. Not to mention the large ink-like birthmarks that are scattered across his body.

However, even though he looks different, you don't have a negative impression of him. All you thought when you first saw him was, "Huh, that guy doesn't look like the kind of guy to join a frat."

As you go down the line you write nice comments on each man's body, not having the heart to write anything negative and possibly hurt someone's feelings. You always felt bad for the guys that get hazed so you could never bring yourself to make it worse for them. However, when you get to the skinny guy, you are utterly shocked by what you see.

Littered all over his body are mean and cruel insults. You felt sick to your stomach as you read them.

"Disgusting"

"Freak"

"Incel"

"Virgin"

One girl even wrote, "Ew, why are you even here?" while another wrote, "I rather die than sleep with you lol."

You understand that he has an unconventional appearance but it certainly does not warrant all of these hateful comments. It breaks your heart to see that not even a single girl has said something nice about him.

You can't even imagine the amount of courage it must have taken him to stand up here like this. Only to get shot down and made fun of? You won't stand for it.

He flinches as he feels your delicate, manicured hands touch his chest. Then he feels something creamy and soft glide along his body, it feels different from the markers he's felt so far.

You decide to write some nice comments in your favorite red lipstick.

"So hot!"

"Cutie ;)"

But you feel like it isn't enough so you put a layer of the vibrant shade on your lips, then begin to kiss the birthmarks on his body.

His breath hitches and his face turns red when he feels you kiss him. Starting with his cheek and going all the way down to the mark on his hip. Everyone stares at you with confused faces as they watch you adore the "ugliest" guy in the lineup. But honestly, you don't care, you think he's hot as hell.

However, you feel like it's not enough so you write, "CALL ME!" in large letters on his chest followed by your phone number.

As all of the girls finish up leaving their comments for the guys, they are finally allowed to take off their blindfolds and read the messages on their bodies.

When he removes his blindfold you can't help but smile seeing how cute he is, and not to mention those beautiful blue eyes.

The self-proclaimed leader of the hazing committee, Tengen Uzui, reads the comments out loud.

Of course, the insults on Gyutaro's body sting. Especially since they are so harsh and he received a lot more than everyone else. But the bright red compliments are what's keeping him afloat. Almost making him not give a fuck about what any of the other girls had to say. Of course, there is a part of him that thinks this could be a cruel trick to get his hopes up. But honestly, after going so many years without a girl even looking in his direction, he can't help but get excited. After all, this is the first time he's ever gotten a girl's phone number.

He looks around the room, trying to see who the culprit could be. There are a few girls wearing red lipstick so he's not entirely sure who it could be.

"Looks like you'll be walking home, Gyutaro!" Tengen announced loudly, "And I'll be keeping these!" He laughs as he snatches Gyutaro's clothes - forcing him to walk home shamefully in nothing but his boxers.

He feels a wave of embarrassment wash over him as everyone stares and laughs. Just wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, he nods and walks towards the door.

"Wait!" You shout as you run towards him, taking off your shirt and jeans. Once you're down to your bra and panties you say, "Let's go together."

His eyes widen as he looks you up and down, his face as red as a tomato. The party goes completely silent, the girls stare at you with confusion and a hint of disgust. While the guys stare at Gyutaro with envy, wishing that they were in his place.

"Well, come on," you say, breaking the silence.

Gyutaro gives you a shaky nod and opens the door for you, following you out.

Once outside the frat house, he really doesn't know what to say, at a complete loss for words. A half-naked girl is walking home with him right now, and not just any girl, you're a solid ten.

His perverted self may be too focused on your appearance right now, but a part of him does recognize how nice it was of you to do that for him so he didn't feel so embarrassed. You literally took off your clothes so you could endure his hazing punishment with him. No one's ever been so kind to him before - especially not a woman.

He keeps looking at your tits, trying not to be obvious about it but he can't help himself. He loves boobs!! He always has and he's never been so close to them before. Honestly, it's a miracle he isn't sporting a massive hard-on right now. The cold breeze hitting his exposed skin is the only thing keeping it at bay.

"Um... thanks," he rasps quietly, barely mustering the courage to speak to you at all, "What's your name?"

"Oh, my name's Y/N. And don't mention it," you smile, "No one deserves to be treated that way."

"... so you did it out of pity?" he frowns.

"Not at all! I-I didn't mean it like that!"

"Then what did you mean?"

"Well... I think you're really cute. Nerdy shy guys like you have always been my type," you express your feelings with a hint of embarrassment, "And just because you don't look like the other guys doesn't mean that warrants bullying."

Gyutaro blushes deeply, too shy and flattered to respond. So you continue.

"Don't join the frat, Gyutaro. You won't be happy there, they'll just make you an outcast because you're different. I really hope you change your mind about it." You hope your words won't offend him, but it's the honest truth. A guy like him doesn't belong in a frat and deep down he knows that.

Gyutaro hates everyone in that frat, he finds them annoying and idiotic. He only wanted to join in the first place because he's so desperate to get laid and he knows those types of guys pull chicks left and right.

"Alright, I won't join. But only if you have sex with me," he states with a confidence he hasn't had all night.

"Wh-what?!" You gasp, almost certain you must not have heard him correctly.

"I only wanted to join that stupid fraternity to get laid. You're the first girl that's ever been interested in me. So if you sleep with me then I'll know I can get laid without needing the frat."

At a loss for words, you stare at him with wide eyes as the two of you stand outside of his dorm building.

You're no saint, so sex isn't something you aren't used to. But you also wouldn't consider yourself the type to sleep with a guy you barely know either. This is still weird for you. But is it too weird for you?

Obviously not because you feel butterflies form in your stomach and a moistness develop in your panties as you think about it. He is really cute, and he does have a point. If you sleep with him maybe it will boost his confidence. And who knows, maybe after tonight you could get closer to him. Being a virgin and all, he doesn't seem like the type to just dip and skip.

"Ok, you have a deal," you smile shyly and take his hand, "This is your dorm building right?"

His jaw drops, not expecting you to have agreed. "Y-Yeah," he stutters.

"Let's hurry before anyone catches us!" Dragging him inside, the two of you sneak up to his room without being noticed.

Once inside you get clear confirmation that Gyutaro is the exact kind of guy you thought he was. Clothes and empty energy drink cans were strewn about his room. The air smells like a mix of body odor and G Fuel. On his desk is a nice looking PC gaming setup. Equip with neon lights and an RTX 3090. And you aren't surprised to see a bottle of lotion on his desk. And beside it is an nsfw figurine of some anime character that looks vaguely similar to you. Maybe you are his type after all.

Gyutaro doesn't bother cleaning up or even apologizing for the mess, it's like he doesn't even care. He just turns on some colored lights and sits on the bed. Now that he's out of the cold and inside the comfort of his own dorm, you can see his erection quickly growing under his boxers.

"Well? Don't tell me you're gonna chicken out now," he scowls.

"No! I'm not chickening out! I'm actually really excited..." you sit beside him and caress his thigh.

Immediately you can see his member twitch beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. He had this nonchalant act going on, but now it's crumbling down and he's a complete mess.

"C-Can I touch them?" he mutters as he stares down at your chest.

"Sure, let me help you," you say as you unhook your bra and throw it to the side. His eyes widen and he has to stop himself from drooling.

Like instinct, his hands go to your breasts and he starts feeling and playing with them. It's obvious he's never done this before because his hands are shaky and he's handling them roughly. But he's just so excited!

"Woah," he says in awe, "These are awesome..."

Even though he's a bit rough and inexperienced, it still feels good. The way his bony fingers squeeze and prod, along with how he runs his fingers over your nipples with curiosity.

"Gyutaro..." you whisper as you caress his cheek and pull him closer, "Come here." Pulling him into a heated kiss, it's obvious he doesn't know what to do. But you try your best to guide him.

He whimpers into the kiss as you slide your tongue into his mouth. He tries to reciprocate but he's quite sloppy.

Despite that, it still sends him to cloud nine. Not only is this his first kiss but he also gets to touch tits at the same time. It's so overwhelming for him that he feels like he's already going to cum.

Hastily shoving his hand down his boxers, he grabs the base of his cock and squeezes tightly - desperately trying to stop himself from cumming. He pulls away from the kiss and says, "T-Take off your panties, I-I wanna fuck you already."

With a devious smirk, you spread your legs as you remove your panties, showing him how wet you are. Gyutaro gulps, staring at you like a starving animal.

"I'm ready for you, Gyu," you coo as you lay on your back, completely submitting to him.

"Wait um... can we try doggy style?"

You're kind of surprised by his request but you don't mind so you flip over and get on your hands and knees.

Gyutaro would actually love to watch your face contort as he fucks you, but he chose doggy style because he doesn't want you to see him while he does it. Even after everything you've said to him his insecurities are still there. And a part of him fears that if you see his dick then you'll change your mind about this. He's not the biggest, but he definitely isn't small either. The size is actually really nice, but he's so insecure that he can't see that. But the worst part is the birthmarks, he feels like his dick looks like he has some type of venereal disease even though he doesn't. So he figures it'd be best if you just didn't see it at all.

Once you're in the doggy position he feels comfortable enough to pull down his boxers. You feel the sticky, leaking tip nudge against you as he positions himself.

His brows furrow in frustration as he tries to find the right spot, his inexperience showing.

"Here, let me help you," you say in a sweet tone as to not upset him or sound judgmental. Though he's still a bit embarrassed anyway.

Reaching between your legs, you grasp his shaft and gently guide him inside of you. Once he's an inch or two inside, he gets too excited and fully thrusts forward. Jolting his needy cock into your gummy walls. You yelp in response while Gyutaro moans loudly.

"F-Fuck... ngh Y/N, you feel so goddamn good," he groans in pleasure as he tightens his grasp on your hips.

After a moment of stillness, he starts thrusting when he feels like he won't cum immediately. But it's not long before that sensation comes back.

Only after a few thrusts, do you feel a warmth spread inside of you as you feel Gyutaro's thighs begin to shake.

"Did you- did you cum?" Surprised, you look back at him to see the blissful expression on his face.

But your words quickly snap him out of it, "Shit... m'sorry," he pants, obviously feeling ashamed and embarrassed, "I-I didn't mean to cum so fast."

He quickly shoves his dick back in his boxers, trying to hide his shame as he hangs his head and refuses to look you in the eye. The only chance he got to have sex, he ruined it by cumming too fast like the incel that everyone says he is. He looks down at the writing on his body, starting to feel like all of those insults from earlier are justified.

Seeing the shift in his mood, you quickly put your panties back on and hug him. "Hey it's ok, it was your first time. That just means we'll have to do it more so you can get used to it."

"R-Really? You don't think I'm pathetic...?" he whimpers in disbelief.

"Of course not, I still had a lot of fun," you smile and kiss his cheek, "Maybe I can stay the night and we can try again in the morning."

"I'd fucking love that."

[moonstruckme]

hello mae ! could i ask for an apple pie with any of the marauders with these prompts?

“a flea market wedding dress” & “hands stained with pen ink”

it would also be alright if it’s just the first one if ever you don’t feel like writing with two of them in mind !

- 🧸 (i always forget to sign off with this 😭)

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: some non-sexual nudity (it's hardly mentioned only really implied)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 749 words

“Do we need eggs?” Remus asks from the other room. 

“I don’t think so.” You zip the dress up in the back, relishing in the smooth feel of the fabric on your skin. It fits like it was made for you. “I’m not feeling very eggy lately. Our last ones went bad.” You smile at yourself in the mirror, going to show Remus.

“It just feels strange not to have eggs…” he trails off as you come into view. It’s not your appearance that surprises him—you’ve been showing off your finds from the flea market since you got home—but the dress itself. “That’s pretty.” He sounds a tad breathless. “It’s, um. It’s white.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh, “it was someone’s wedding dress, once. Isn’t it nice?” You give him a little twirl. “I think if I take out some of the layers in the skirt it could be cute for summer. Very flowy.” 

“Very.” Remus caps the pen he was using for your grocery list, amusement coloring his tone. “You look lovely in it, dove. You know everyone will think we’re getting married when you wear it out, though, don’t you?” 

“With the way you dress?” You grin. It worsens when he stands, coming over to you with a grin of his own. “Doesn’t seem likely.” 

“My jumpers are very dapper,” he says, smiling into a kiss. 

You hum noncommittally, and he gives your middle a playful warning squeeze. A quick peck to your lips, then another, longer and sweeter. You set your hands on his chest, feeling the soft material of the jumper he’s wearing now. 

“I don’t know,” you tease, looking down at your contrasting outfits. “I think—oh, Remus!” 

You move away from him, but the damage is done. Two smudges of ink remain on your dress where his fingertips were. 

Remus is quick to follow your gaze. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” you say, even as your heart sinks. 

“No, dovey, I’m so sorry.” He looks like he wants to reach for you again, but he looks at his hands and swears instead. “I can—wait one second.” 

He goes back around the counter, and you hear the sink running. 

“Really,” you say, “it’s fine. It was only a few quid.” 

“No, but you were excited about it. I think I can get it out.” 

“It’s ink, Rem, it’s…” 

You trail off as he comes back around the corner, soapy dish sponge in hand, and presses it to your dress. 

“What…” You move your arm out of the way. Remus settles a hand on your hip, holding the both of you steady as he bends closer to your waist. He swipes the sponge over the fabric with a concentrated furrow between his brows. “Are…are you washing me?” 

“I’m getting the stain out.” 

“I don’t think soap is going to do it, honey.” 

The look your boyfriend casts up at you is equal parts loving and exasperated. “It usually works for me. This isn’t my first time getting ink on clothes.” 

That, you can believe. The writing in Remus’ notebooks is always smeared, the culprit to be found in his inky hands. Sometimes you swear he gets black and blue stains up to his elbows. You’ve no clue how he manages it.

“Now we only need to put baking soda on it, and it should come out.” He gives your dress one last good scrub with the sponge.

“Right,” you say hesitantly. “So should I just lie down for that, or…” 

“I probably should have had you take it off first,” Remus admits. “I panicked, a little bit.” 

You laugh. He looks relieved to hear it, some of the guilt easing from his expression. “That’s my fault, I guess.” You unzip the back of your dress, trying to step out of it without disturbing the stain. 

“No, I think it’s all still mine,” Remus says, but he takes it from you.

Once he’s done arranging it in the sink and piling it with baking soda, he comes back to you, slotting a hand behind your ear and letting his fingers slip into your hair. 

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He kisses you. 

You roll your eyes. He knows you can’t be cross at him when he does that. 

“You just didn’t want me to be better dressed than you,” you say, though there’s nothing but fondness to be found in your tone. 

“You’re always better dressed. As you’ve said, the bar isn’t high.” 

“Oh, shut up. You know I like your jumpers just fine.”

[orteil42]

some undifferentiated thoughts about my Starfield playthrough as i have them. i am a game developer with a strong interest in procedural generation and i've enjoyed a bunch of other bethesda games so this might get pretty mean sorry

(this is a long one)

starfield dialogue is already exhausting me "oh you must've been living under a moon rock ;)" get it! because they're in space! this would've been too corny for the Jetsons

there's a kind of cheap dusting of space theme over everything. the food isn't salmon but alien salmon. it's not seaweed but alien seaweed. cooking alien stir-fry. come on

cannot get over how clumsily the theming is handled. books, board games, weapon names revolve heavily around space. these people have been living on alien planets for hundreds of years yet have this unending sense of novelty about it. the game takes itself completely seriously but feels like it's attempting to parody itself

people's EYEBALLS are CLIPPING THROUGH THEIR EYELIDS

a woman is speaking to me in french. her accent is about as believable as her haircut

these are some of the worst reflection maps i've ever seen

next to nothing is interactive. you can sit in chairs and sleep in beds and that is about it. can't even drink from people's toilets. disgraceful

game helpfully crashes 5 seconds after i decide i should get some sleep. very handy!

my character has not said a single thing since i started playing. not one peep. this is an unmitigated improvement over Fallout 4 i'm so glad honestly

the more i poke around the big city the more the NPC quips feel like something out of gen-1 pokemon. can't get enough of this coffee :) this city is where it's at :) spacesuits are comfy and easy to wear

very strange sense of altered reality from the quest dialogue too. has anyone at bethesda met a person before? i move on to some mission that has me scanning wildlife on a faraway planet hoping this will, somehow, feel less alien than human conversation

just as with No Man's Sky, every planet is uniformly dotted with equidistantly-placed points of interest that you slowly make your way to (no vehicles besides your jetpack) which always turn out to be some cave or building identical to those you've cleared before

unlike with No Man's Sky, the seamless exploration is faked and the biodiversity is nil. you do get an impressive amount of raw loading screens however

the prefab bases and power stations found everywhere on planets seem to have very sparse, very specific slots for spawning consumables, which results in encountering some giant industrial installation in the middle of nowhere with, i don't know, a loaf of whole-grain sandwich bread just casually sitting next to it all proper. there is no breathable atmosphere here. who is eating this

planetary traversal is a CHORE. i am saying this as someone who loved Death Stranding

heinous "hold to confirm" buttons sprinkled in various flow-breaking places throughout the interface

enemy AI is abominable. nobody is pathing their way to get my ass. "must've been the wind" taken to the next level. an infant playing peekaboo has more object permanence

hoisting yourself up on ledges when jumping is…nice

companions randomly nowhere to be found. persists through multiple fast-travels and loading screens until, just as randomly, they pop back up

storage space is now limited! unlike in Fallout 4 and virtually every other bethesda game, your containers now hold a finite item capacity. god forbid we let the player have fun

baffling inventory UI. i imagine there's a mod out there that completely overhauls it the way SkyUI did for Skyrim. this should not be needed! how are your UIs getting worse a decade later!

scanning the precious few species inhabiting some dusty planet; one of them is this arching red root i've already seen several times before. my job done in this biome, i travel (read: teleport with a loading screen) to the polar region to find some other species. the first one i catalogue is the exact same red root again but this time it's named "boreas root" todd howard is a genius

some alien horror comes at me full fangs out. i hop on a pebble. obscenely, i am safe

procedural terrain generation beyond dull, impossibly unimaginative. these people have not had one critical thought on what makes a procedural world interesting. beginning to feel validated in my belief that only i should be trusted with proc gen. along with perhaps tarn adams

jokes aside this is making me feel genuinely insane. there have been excellent procedural generation techniques that produce compelling explorable maps for decades now. bethesda absolutely has the budget and know-how to do miles better than this yet somehow they just…do not? the same way Pokemon has decided to just no longer bother with their mainline games despite being the highest-grossing media franchise in history? hello? what is for real going on

some of the most cynical breadcrumbing i've seen in years. approaching some random cave and this person in space gear, who in the vast immensity of the infinite cosmos just happens to be snapping pictures right here, tells me more-or-less verbatim "if you like this place, you should see this other place" [other random cave has been added to your map.]

i do not like how good this makes No Man's Sky's gameplay look. it depresses me how much i have to hand it to No Man's Sky for at least not fucking up this bad. please stop making me wish i was playing No Man's Sky instead this is grotesque

i think i've exhausted my interest and patience for this game at the moment. i'll get back to the main story at some point and try some other systems ie. crafting and base-building to see if there's any engagement to be found but so far, my god. my god

[luveline]

Babe congrats on quitting!!!

I live coworker!James sm he is so lovely and i cant heló bit asking for more

R having a bad day and James doent know until he teeases her and she just like opens up to James a bit more?

thank you!!

You can’t escape Remus’ sweet questions of concern, though he’s tactful. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus asks, James a haunting somewhere near the customer complaints desk. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You really don’t wanna come to dinner with me?” 

It’s a nice offer, but Remus is part of a package deal, and he’s the only one of the three who isn’t exhausting; Remus’ boyfriend Sirius is well meaning but so beautiful and so alarmingly aware of it, while James is all those things too, but much less subtle about it. “I’m too tired for the walking, thank you. I’m just gonna stay here and eat my sandwich in slow bites.” 

Remus laughs, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck. He doesn’t tuck it under his coat. Sirius will do that for him. It’s heartbreaking to see every day, a reminder of real love in the world that will seemingly never touch you, but it’s cute too. 

James rockets back to his desk. He’s always in a hurry. Half-frantic, he pulls his rucksack from under his desk and unzips the main body. To your horror, he unveils a large Tupperware of white rice, asparagus, and what looks to be chicken thighs. Next comes his portable knife fork. 

He notices your watching. “It’s just rice and chicken,” he says defensively. 

“No, I’m not–” You shake your head. “Not about what you’re eating. Eat what you want, James.” 

“Don’t I always?” he asks. “Not about what I’m eating. Your general look of disgust and disdain is to do with something else, then. Did you accidentally look in the ladies bathroom mirror again?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

James tucks his chair in, face paused, hands hesitating at the sides of his dinner and then flat to the desk. “Hey, is something wrong?” 

Maybe his comment before struck a nerve. Maybe you’re having a terrible day, and everything’s piling up, and you can’t be expected to keep in your feelings forever. Or maybe you’re dumb. “Guess I did look too long in the mirror,” you say. 

“You’re upset?” he asks, startled.

You shake your head vehemently. Slow. “I’m just having a bad day.” 

“What happened?” 

You stare at him for a moment, take in the concerned twitch of his brows as they pull down and in, the set of his nice mouth, remarking to yourself on how the snarky sarcasm erases itself from his expression so quickly, leaving behind a boy with a very sweet face. 

His hand curls into a loose fist. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

“I don’t know if you ever get this, but sometimes I,” —your face goes white hot suddenly, an acknowledgment of the powers over you you’re giving him in needing reassurance— “look at myself and I feel a bit off. And I thought if I had lunch by myself I’d have time to not be looked at? Um. Which is why I was unhappy. Not because of you.” You frown at him. “You do make me unhappy, though.” 

He pretends to laugh at your weak insult, which is generous. “So you actually did get upset looking in the mirror? Shortcake, I was kidding about that, it's not like it makes any sense.” 

You frown at one another. “Why not?” 

“Because you’re nothing worth being upset over?” James suggests. “You’re pretty. You know you’re pretty.” He points at you with his fork. “You do know?” 

“No,” you mumble. 

“I’m not telling you again,” he says, looking strangely as though he’d quite like to tell you again. 

“I’m consistently below average.” 

“Where? Do you have an address? I must go to this place where you’re the standard.” 

Something weird and queasy summons to life in your chest, before levelling into a surprising pleasure. That was definitely a compliment, and from James, though annoying he might be, it means a lot. He’s outrageously good looking, after all, and especially when he smiles, which is nearly constant. He’s smiling now with the fondness of someone who knows you better than he actually does. 

He ruins it rolling his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Which I’ve come to expect!” he says, sliding a thumb under the clasp of his Tupperware. “Why would you think you’re not lovely? To look at, that is. You’re a huge pain otherwise.” 

“That’s uncharacteristically mean, even for you.” 

“I’m balancing it out. Want some asparagus?” 

You excuse yourself for a quick trip to the bathroom, where you mouth questions at your reflection of the puzzled variety. Has James been replaced by a body snatcher? Or are you finally seeing the version of him everybody else in the office seems to know?

When you get back to your desk, your figurines have been upended by a ‘freak earthquake’. He’s back to normal.

[nvuy]

hey gorjous im just curious will you ever write for aventurine?by the way loveeee your works

rose-tinted glasses & the scent of you — aventurine

summary. you’re offered a chance to win close to a million credits. only issue is, you suck at poker. luckily, some blond man with the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen comes to your aid.

notes. who is aventurine and no i will never write for him. it is 3:30am and i am now going to sleep goodnight!!!!

warnings. the dude your playing poker with is an asshole and says some strange things, i guess a bit of power imbalance, gn reader but referred to as ‘beautiful’ or ‘gorgeous,’ light cussing, i don’t know how to play poker and i fight the gods trying to write aventurine.

“So… tell me… what made you think you could win?” 

The older man stares you down with those awful brown eyes. They flicker even darker than black itself in the low lights of the VIP room he’s dragged you into. 

You glance up from your deck of cards. Your fingers are trembling. You swallow and tell the man, “I never even agreed to play this game with you.” 

The man leans back in his chair. He merely rolls his eyes. The woman over his shoulder—and she’s a gorgeous woman. She looks much too young for him—giggles at his antics. She looks more like a prize than anything. 

Your eyes snap to the man’s again. “And I don’t want to be your arm candy.” 

“Oh, but that’s what you were made for.” The man yawns as if he could be doing anything else with his time. And he could have; he was rich. Filthy rich. He paid for women, cars, and every high end restaurant in this district that was under his name one way or another. All his. He could have been off on his yacht somewhere in the ocean for all you cared, sipping a nice martini. 

But, no. 

He’s here. And he wants you. 

Some lowly office worker. You knew the gut feeling when you stepped into this casino, and you had ignored it. Now, you were kicking yourself repeatedly for it.

“Play.”

You almost consider throwing your cards down onto the table and storming out, but the room is closed off by two big burly men standing on either side of it.

And if you give up, he wins.

But he’s already winning, anyway. 

“Play the game,” he repeats, this time firmer. 

“I’m folding,” you said with just as much vitriol. You drop your cards onto the green velvet and swallow your pride. 

The man hums with triumph, drops his deck—of course, a royal flush glimmers back at you on his pristine customised playing cards—and collects the chips in the middle of the table. 

“That’s another round for me,” the man whispers across the table. “Another drink?” 

You shake your head. The thought of him making you down even more liquor with him made you feel sick. “Can I leave?” 

“‘Leave?’ It’s only round four.” The dealer takes the cards silently. Another woman. Her name badge reads ‘Jewel,’ though you’re sure that’s not her real name. “You said it was best of five.” 

You look down at your hands.

They’re still trembling. 

“This isn’t fair.” You try not to tear up, but your voice shakes, and it’s difficult to mask. Your hands continue to quake and your legs can’t remain still. You were sure he could feel the floor vibrating with how you bounced in your seat. “I can’t even play with these cards–” 

“I hope you’re not suggesting I’m taking advantage of you, beautiful.” 

Your face screws up at that. 

He’s not cheating. How can he possibly cheat? You had elected the dealer yourself, per his request, and had been watching him like a hawk for the better half of an hour. 

Your hands were awful every time. Not even a simple pair. Just random useless low valued cards thrown together, while the man opposite you seemed to have an endless amount of tricks up his sleeve. 

Poker was luck based. Mostly. There was skill and strategy, but it was like detective work. You’re no professional, but the dealer has no idea what they draw for each player, and the chances of you being drawn a horrible hand twice in a row now was creeping up on you.

It’s all guesswork and mind games. Being a sleaze is this dude’s lifestyle. You work in an office answering phone calls all day.

You glance at the dealer again. She’s still shuffling the cards by hand, and she’s not looking at them either. There’s no possible way she could know what she is handing out. 

You sigh shakily. “No.” 

The man leans back in his chair. 

Then, he glances up when the door opens behind you. The woman over his arm gets up and leaves. 

At first you presume the man has called in another woman by the way his eyes light up.

His grin is wicked. “Mister Aventurine, you son of a bitch.”

He gestures to you and says, “you’re in luck. Maybe this’ll be your turn around. You’re going to need it.” The man leans back in his chair, suddenly smug.

You feel a hand brush along the back of your shoulder.

There’s a strong scent of clove oil and chestnut as the newcomer, Mister Aventurine, glides past your chair and over to the man’s shoulder. 

You notice flicks of water on his coat.

“Evening, Keres.” His voice is just as smooth. “It’s raining hard out there.” 

“Is it? I ain’t been out since this mornin’.”

When you take a proper look at him, he’s wearing clothing more expensive than all of your bills combined. That was real fur around his collar; you could tell from the organic coarseness of it, and the way the pattern was inconsistent and natural. The watch around his wrist was most definitely real gold with an emerald green face. 

And hair is perfect, laid down flat, but with pieces fluffed out intentionally. Everything is done with purpose. He carries an air of confidence to him, and it only falters for a moment when he adjusts the black gloves on his hands. 

He’s wearing rose-coloured glasses.

“Harassing the locals again?” Mister Aventurine asks playfully. 

He’s talking about you.

You bristle in your seat.

“Hardly.” The man, whom you now know as Keres, leans over the table with an arm on the velvet. “This one’s gotten a little too excited at the prize money.” 

“And how much is that?” Mister Aventurine finishes fixing his gloves before he stands up straight. 

“A good seven-hundred and fifty thousand. Enough to pay the bills for the year and get yourself something nice, right sweetheart?” He raises a silver credit card he pulls from his pocket and waves it side to side. “All right here on this shiny, pretty card.”

You feel like a fish staring down a hook with worm bait stuck to the end.

He’s speaking to you again, but the question  remains unanswered. Keres raises an eyebrow—and you would have considered him handsome if didn’t make you feel nauseous every time he spoke to you—and waits.

You say nothing. 

Mister Aventurine is looking at you now.

You feel as though you’re being hypnotised. Though the colour of his eyes are left muffled by the rosy tint he wears over them, they’re so bright. There’s two colours you can barely decipher: some sort of light green and a deep purple.

And they’re beautiful. 

“I take it you’re winning?” 

Keres picks up his deck of cards for the dealer as she lays them out on the table.

You swallow as she deals out your hand next. You don’t even want to flip the cards. You already know it’s over.

By some miracle, you have to win this round.

Keres had gone easy on you the first round, calling your bluff and being wrong, since you told him you weren’t sure how to play, and he felt only the slightest bit bad he roped you into the game in the first place.

Now, he didn’t care. 

“‘Course I’m winnin’.” 

Your teeth grit behind your lips.

Dickhead.

You swallow and peek at your cards. 

Huh. They’re actually not so bad this time around. Your hands had been awful for the last hour. 

Mister Aventurine is still looking at you.

You try not to return his gaze. You keep your eyes glued to the table. 

Mister Aventurine hums curiously.

You can still smell his perfume, and the delicious bottom note of vanilla musk, even as he stands on the other side of the playing table. If you weren’t in the position you were in, you would have asked him what he was wearing. 

He clears his throat. 

You glance up at him.

Then, he nods subtly at you, seemingly pleased. “Great hand, Keres, don’t you think?” 

“The secret to winning is to remain humble, Mister Aventurine,” Keres reminds him. 

You almost scoff. 

Mister Aventurine’s lips tick up into a grin. “Is that so?” 

Then, he tilts his head slightly towards you. It’s not enough to look awkward or out of place, but it’s just enough for you to notice the very small, and nervous tick of one of his gloved fingers by his sides. 

He’s still staring at you. 

And there, slightly warped from his curved lenses, is a rosy and mirrored reflection of the man’s cards. 

For a moment, you look away, glancing at the security guards situated behind you standing in front of the door. Though you still could never make a run for it because both of them were triple your size, one of them was tapping away on his phone, and the other was leaning against the wall and staring off into space. 

You turn back around. 

Mister Aventurine merely raises a brow. 

Keres notices that. “Taking an interest in my opponent, Aventurine?”

Aventurine does not move to address the man, too afraid he won’t garner the correct angle on his glasses again, but his eyes do flit in his direction. “Maybe.”

“Don’t use that charm just yet, sir. I’ve got a game to win.” 

“Of course.” It’s a mere send off of his tone, as if he’s just carelessly thrown the words in to keep the man satisfied. 

He’s doing this on purpose. 

You glance down at your cards again. 

Keres’ hand is good. It’s not amazing, but it’s good. It’s almost an even match, though the game is tilted slightly in his favour. 

But, he doesn’t know your cards. 

Neither does Aventurine. You think. Unless those freaky eyes grant him a sixth sense, and he can see through the card backs like an x-ray. That wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest. 

You exhale as steadily as you can, trying to slow your racing heart. 

Then, you whisper, “if this is the final round, I’m going all in.” 

Aventurine’s face does not shift. His lenses flicker in the lights, and for a moment you panic, convinced that the reflection is lost.

It returns a moment later. 

Keres grins. “As you wish.” He slides all of his own chips into the centre of the table. 

ೃ༄

You’ve confused Keres, that’s for sure. The round has been lasting a lot longer than he liked, and as he grew more and more impatient, he grew sloppier. 

You’re not any good at this game. You’re not a genius strategist, that was for sure, but judging by the slight flinch in Aventurine’s face when Keres slammed his hands on the table, you could tell he was being run around the very table he sat at. 

He’d first accused you of cheating halfway through the round, so much so that the security guards were ordered to pat you down for extra cards, and the dealer was escorted out of the room. 

Then, Aventurine had rested a gloved hand to the man’s shoulder and reminded him, “calmness is the cradle of power, my friend.” 

That barely calmed him down, but it was enough to seat the man again. 

Now, Aventurine was not showing you his hand anymore, but you didn’t need it. 

“I’m raising,” Keres whispers. 

Aventurine’s eyes narrow suspiciously at his deck. 

You swallow. 

“Then I’m calling your bluff,” you mumble. You won’t fold. Not here. Not when you know you’ve won. 

Your heart is racing.

There’s a small voice in the back of your head telling you that you may have overstepped. You may have grown too big in your own head. 

Aventurine is staring at you, completely expressionless. He’s casually leaning against the back of Keres’ chair. 

Come on. Come on, come on–

You grip your cards for dear life.  

Keres drops his cards. “Fuck you.” 

You sigh in relief and drop your own cards.

You bury your face in your hands and lean against the table on your elbows. You could cry. Oh, you could get on the floor and weep to the Aeons. You could give Aventurine a giant kiss on the lips. 

Oh, thank the Aeons for blond men. 

You didn’t have to worry about waking up in this man’s bed tomorrow morning. 

Keres gets up, and as he does, Aventurine adjusts his posture and clears his throat. He says nothing when Keres passes him. 

There’s a nasty whisper of a, “some lucky charm you are,” before the credit card is thrown into his chest. 

Keres hits you in the shoulder on his way out. The security guards allow him through first before they both file out. They close the door to the VIP room behind them. 

You contemplate leaving as well. You just desperately want to go home. It’s getting late, you think. You had caught a glance of Aventurine’s watch before, and the large hand was ticking towards nine o’clock. 

“Congratulations.” It’s warm. It’s genuine. When you turn, Aventurine is holding out the credit card in front of him. “Don’t forget the ��shiny, pretty card.’” 

Your chest warms, and you feel this is the first time you’ve smiled properly in a long time. 

You move closer to the man. “You…” You hesitate before the credit card, but Aventurine makes no move to pocket it for himself and leave. “I- I don’t know how I can thank you enough for this.” 

You take the card and stare at it for a moment. 

Then, you place it safely in your coat pocket. 

Aventurine tilts his head, confusion scrawled onto his face as saunters past you easily to hold open the door for you. “Thank me for what?”

As he waits, he pulls off those rosy glasses and folds them neatly. He holds onto them.

Oh. 

His eyes are beautiful. A light blue ring surrounds his slightly slitted pupils. A gorgeous rich royal purple wraps at the edges of his iris, bordered by a thick black ring. 

You stop for a moment before you step towards the door, looking equally as confused. “The reflection? With your glasses?” 

Aventurine looks down at the said pair in his hands. He then smiles, but it seems more to be polite and to entertain you. “Sure.” He shuts the door behind you when he follows you out. 

You knit your brows together. 

Then, it wasn’t intentional.

Or, he’s just really good at playing dumb.

You can’t exactly tell.

His grin spells mischief, however. “Would you like a drink?” 

Your eyes flit towards the bar. It’s always fully stocked, and the bartenders are always lovely, but the idea of liquor in your already churning stomach makes you feel sick. “Oh, no. But thank you. I’m probably just going to go home.” 

“Of course. It’s late.” Aventurine glances down at his watch. “I’d be more than happy to walk you to your car, if you’d like.” 

You blink at him, only slightly dazed. 

You felt as if you had just swallowed three shots of straight vodka. 

Your legs feel unsteady for a moment, and you’re afraid you’ll teeter and fall flat on your face. You can smell his perfume again. It’s stronger now since he’s standing so close to you.

It’s almost humiliating how easily he sends blood rushing up your neck. 

“I don’t- uh… I don’t have a car,” you murmur. 

Aventurine blinks and takes out his phone. “Then I’ll call you a cab.” 

“Thanks.” You clear your throat when his lips stretch into a smile again. Embarrassingly, you add, “you smell so nice.” 

He laughs then, and you like the sound. He narrows his eyes playfully. “Thank you.” 

As if it couldn’t get any worse, blondie then offers you his arm. You could’ve melted on the spot into a puddle of goo all over the plush red carpets of the casino. 

The sound of slot machines, loud chattering, and drinks clacking together in toasts, drowns out the sound of your stuttered breathing and the roar of blood in your ears. 

Aventurine greets one of the staff members on his way out. His arm linked with yours is gentle, more of a persistent comforting anchor than a leash to drag you around in.

He smells really, really nice. 

Your face grows hot.

This is so bad. 

It’s raining outside. The entrance to the casino is large enough to provide enough relief to city goers seeking shelter from the rain. The press of the heating from inside dissipate as soon as you step through the doors.

It’s freezing. The wind whips and sounds as though one thousand ghosts float through the air, lost to time. 

You’re relieved the exterior roof keeps you mostly dry. 

You shiver. 

“They’ll be a cab for you in five minutes,” Aventurine says softly. He lets go of your arm. You ignore the disappointment you feel in your chest. 

“Thanks.” You cross your arms over your chest to shield yourself from the cold as best you could. “You don’t have to wait out here with me.” 

Aventurine looks at you strangely. “Well, it’s not like I’m doing much else.” He gives you a once over before you hear his clothes shifting. 

This is so awkward. 

You feel the foreign tickle of expensive and real fur on your neck. 

You glance at him suspiciously before your shoulders are swamped in his jacket. It’s warm, warmer than anything you’ve ever worn from the velvety insides and his own body heat, and heavy with luxury. 

Your heart stops when Aventurine hums, pleased. 

Your hands shoot to the white fur on the collar to shuck it off and hand it back to him. “I’m fine, really–” 

“Oh, please.” He waves you off gently. “You’re clearly freezing.” 

“I’m really okay–” 

“And would you look at that.” Aventurine straightens up and pushes his rosy glasses back onto his nose bridge. “Your cab’s early.” 

You shrug off his jacket, careful with the expensive material. “Thank you so much, but–” He pushes it back onto your shoulders, following you to the car door. “Mister Aventurine–” 

“I insist.” He opens the door for you. “You’ll freeze.” 

You can’t imagine him standing around in a suit vest and a shirt is warm, either.

You say nothing about it. You practically fall into the back of the cab, shocked. 

“Take it home.” 

“‘Take it–‘” You shake your head. You feel like you’re dreaming. “I can’t take this home. This thing is worth more than the money I just won.” 

But it’s warm, and it’s weighted in the most comforting way.

It calms your nerves. 

“It’s nothing fancy. It was only around one-hundred thousand credits.”  

“Are you serious–” 

“Take it.” And he is serious. You can see your reflection in his glasses. “Please.“ 

His eyes are really, really beautiful. 

You find yourself lost in them for a moment. 

His back is slightly soaked from the rain. He barely notices it. His hand rests on your knee when you swing your feet into the cab. 

You nod once, more to reassure yourself than anything. “Okay.” You look up at him. “Thank you so much.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He offers you a gentle wave before he shuts the door and the car drives off. 

He is cold. Frightfully so as you watch him shiver through the rear view mirror before he steps back into the casino. 

As the cab moves, you relay your address to the driver and sit back in the seat. You feel like you can finally breathe, but when you do breathe, you only smell chestnut and vanilla, and it blurs and muddies your senses nicely. 

You bury your icy fingers into the pockets of Aventurine’s coat, sinking into the neckline until the fur tickles your ears. 

Your fingers come into contact with something smooth and cool, like glass.

You fish it out. 

It’s a small perfume bottle. You pull the clear lid off of the tip of it and curiously smell the top. It smells exactly like him, the same perfume that’s drowned you for the last hour.

You don’t think you can get enough of it. 

You feel only slightly guilty for digging around in this man’s pockets—and, unsurprisingly, you don’t find a wallet—before you fish out a pair of fancy looking golden dice with light green dots on the faces. 

The dice, the perfume, and a small card. Not the credit card you won. That one is tucked away safely in your bag. 

It’s a business card. His business card. His name, what you recognise as the IPC’s logo, and his phone number are written in gold lettering on the laminated white card. 

You hum curiously.

Then, you fish out your phone and slowly type his number onto the screen. 

You: thank u 4 winning 2night for me. & the coat. the coat is nice. x

Sent 9:56pm

Aventurine: You found my gifts! :0 Did you like them?

You: maybe. i did like ur vest btw.

Aventurine: You can have it next time ;)

You find yourself smiling. Your fingers tremble with excitement over the keyboard on your screen.

You: i’ll give u a kiss 4 it :*

Aventurine: Done, deal. Pleasure doing business with you, gorgeous.

You have a feeling your wardrobe will be full of his clothes in the not so distant future. 

[wosola]

French kisses .2 - Lucy Bronze x French!Reader

Summary: This is during Lucy Bronze’s time playing for Lyon, she's just gotten into a relationship with R, a 22-year-old student. For R it is the first time sleeping with someone.

Warnings: This is an 18+ fanfic with explicit content, so minors DNI.

Part 1 here.

It was only a few days ago, but Sunday felt like a lifetime away as you recalled how your parents had adored Lucy. You remembered how Lucy had picked you up that Sunday, looking stunning in an outfit you hadn't seen before. She had arrived a full ten minutes early, a small smile on her face as she told you that punctuality was key.

You re envisioned the way your mom’s eyes sparkled when Lucy walked in with a bouquet of flowers, the perfect way to win her over; your mom loved flowers. "Pour toi," Lucy had exclaimed with a warm smile, her accent adorably imperfect as she stumbled over a few words in French.

Your dad had been equally impressed when Lucy handed him a bottle of expensive whiskey, having confirmed with you just the day before if it was an appropriate gift to give him. “I heard this is your favorite,” she’d said, her voice unexpectedly confident as she raised the bottle.

You adored the way she’d won your parents over. You where glad your parents where this welcoming, that they just wanted to see you happy, because you knew it was often not as pleasant for people to bring a same-sex partner home.

It was clear Lucy had learned everything she wanted to say in French, she’d probably rehearsed every potential compliment and conversational quip, ready for the moment she needed it. It worked though and in some strange way it made you fall more in love with her.

You felt a swell of pride watching her engage with your parents, laughing and sharing stories that bridged the gap between her world and yours. It was so nice to finally been able to bring someone home. Maybe it would be the only person you would ever bring home to your parents, because she was the love of your life.

Safe to say it had been a great success and the next dinner had already been planned before the two of you had left.

-

Now it was Thursday; the day you’d been waiting for. It was the day.

Your apartment was cozy, located near the university and just the right size for you and your roommate. It was great you could live there, as your parents lived outside the city, in such a rural place that buses didn't even dare to go near there.

The living room was a mix of mismatched furniture; a well-loved couch, a small coffee table cluttered with textbooks and half-finished mugs of coffee and a tiny kitchen that smelled faintly of whatever you’d cooked that week.

Earlier this morning, your roommate had teased you mercilessly about Lucy. “You’re glowing! I swear, it’s like you’ve got stars in your eyes,” she had said with a playful smirk, knowing you hated that kind of soppy stuff. But beneath the teasing, you sensed her genuine happiness for you, knowing you had found someone you really really liked and who liked you equally as much.

As you came back after classes that day, your roommate had left, spending the night at her boyfriend’s place. Leaving the space feeling oddly quiet yet filled with the thrill of anticipation.

So you had thrown yourself into preparation mode. You changed the bed sheets. You scrubbed the countertops and vacuumed the floors, wanting everything to feel just right.

Then came the shower, you put yourself through an extensive cleansing ritual, lingering for way too long under the jets, letting the hot water cascade down your back like a soothing embrace. Because besides wanting to feel clean, you where also nervous quite nervous.

Deciding what to wear was another challenge in itself. You tried on three different outfits, each time pulling everything off again and tossing it aside in frustration. Finally, you settled on a simple yet elegant outfit that hugged your figure perfectly, something that made you feel confident and beautiful.

As you stood in front of the mirror, taking one last look at yourself, you couldn’t shake the excitement mixed with a touch of anxiety. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was just Lucy. The doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts and you knew the evening was about to begin.

Lucy showed up at your apartment with two bags in hand, insisting that you must not peek inside. “It’s a surprise amour,” she had declared, a mischievous twinkle in her eye that only made your heart race faster.

After exchanging a kiss, Lucy walked over to the kitchen and you stood there unsure of what to do. You watched as she moved things from one bag to another, a hint of excitement bubbling in your chest.

Finally, she spoke up, her voice cheerful. “Alright, love, if you want to unpack these things, it’s for dinner. I’ll just duck into your room for a bit and try to be quick, okay?”

She approached you again, planting another kiss on your lips and you smiled back at her, feeling warmth spread through you at her demeanor. “Don’t come peeking…” she joked, pulling you in for another kiss.

You broke the kiss and chuckled, “I wont,” waving her off as she disappeared down the hallway.

As you busied yourself in the kitchen, the anticipation of the night filled the air. You draped a dark red tablecloth over the coffee table, setting down all the different food Lucy had brought. You couldn’t believe your eyes as you uncovered the dishes. It was almost like a tapas table, but then all of your favorite things from different traiteurs. The logo from your favorite fromagerie was unmistakable on one of the little brown bags and your heart raced; you rarely treated yourself to these luxuries. Lucy had gone out of her way to buy all of it.

After placing down glasses and cutlery you only needed plates, so you walked back to the kitchen.

Lucy softly closed the bedroom door, as she was done setting things up and walked over to you. Coming up behind you, she placed a soft kiss on your neck.

You tensed momentarily but quickly relaxed into her touch. Your nerves were on high alert because of your nervousness. But you liked how she held you, her touch sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Ah, at the coffee table?” she asked, a surprised tone in her voice.

“Yeah,” you admitted sheepishly. “I thought it would feel.. less formal. We can change it if you want, but I thought… cozy?”

“It’s perfect,” Lucy assured you, her eyes gleaming with appreciation. “Perfectly us.”

You turned to face her, taking in the beauty of her features; her bright eyes, the gentle curve of her lips and the way her smile seemed to light up your kitchen. This was the face you had grown to love, the face you wanted to see first thing in the morning and the last thing before drifting off to sleep. You leaned in slowly, noticing how she tilted her head to meet you halfway, not taking the lead as she would usually do. The kiss was soft, filled with the promise you both felt lingering.

“Are you nervous?” Lucy asked quietly, pulling back slightly to gauge your expression.

“Uhm… I have nerves, but I’m mostly excited, I think,” you replied, your gaze dropping to where you absentmindedly played with her fingers, tracing their robust form.

“Well, I just wanted to say,” Lucy began, reaching up with her free hand to tilt your chin, ensuring you met her gaze. “If you want to stop at any time, you can always say so. I… uh, nothing will change between us if that happens, okay? For you, I would wait a hundred years if that’s what you need.”

You chuckled softly, your heart swelling at her words. Leaning in, you kissed her again, savoring the taste of her lips. “I love you.”

‘’I love you too,’’ with a smile on her face, Lucy gestured toward the food on the coffee table. “Okay, let’s eat then, I have searched all of your favorites, maybe I missed some I don’t know, I hope not but I-.”

You interrupted her, smiling ‘’are you nervous?’’ You asked her, hearing her rambling.

She scratched her neck, biting her lip. ‘’I want this to be perfect, for you.’’

‘’It is Lucy, don’t worry,’’ you took her hand as you took two plates in your other hand and pulled her to the couch.

After setting the plates down you settled down on the couch.

Lucy followed, settling beside you, she leaned forward to open the bottle of rosé crémant. You’d once mentioned liking it better than champagne and it made you smile that she’d remembered. You knew she hadn’t chosen it because it was less expensive but because it was what you preferred. It was something you loved about her, Lucy wasn’t just listening; she cared.

After filling your glasses, she handed one to you and raised hers to clink. You watched her, catching the slight hesitation as she searched for the right words to toast.

You chuckled and stepped in to help, saying what felt like the obvious toast “to us.” Your gaze locked with hers, and you tapped your glass to hers.

"To us," she repeated softly, her eyes meeting yours with a smile before she took a sip.

After that, the two of you eagerly started digging in to the food.

Lucy stacked her plate and sat back on the couch “Mmm, this is amazing.´´ she said with her mouth full. ´´I love all the food you’ve introduced me to in France.”

You laughed. “I could give you a dried-out baguette and you’d still enjoy it.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, nudging you with her elbow. “Not true. I have taste. Great taste, even.”

“I know, I was just teasing you.” You leaned in close, a playful glint in your eye. “Sorry,” you whispered, stopping just inches from her face.

She smiled, tilting her head even closer. “Hmm… I think you’ll have to make it up to me.”

You let your lips brush against hers, the anticipation crackling in the air. “And how exactly should I do that?” you said, taking the plate off of her and blindly put it back on the coffee table.  

“Maybe a kiss.” Her words were soft, lingering just against your lips before she captured them fully, her mouth warm and inviting. The kiss deepened, her hand slipping around your waist, drawing you in against her. You let go, sinking into the kiss, savoring the way her fingers grazed the small of your back. Shivering as her hands cupped your ass, fingers digging in, urging you even closer.

Without breaking away, you shifted onto her lap, you gasped softly as her hands found their way to your hips, holding you as she carefully flipped you both, positioning you between her and the couch. Your legs wrapped instinctively around her and you could feel her weight balanced on her forearms bracketing against you, her feet slipping on the smooth floor as she struggled to hold herself steady.

But none of that seemed to matter. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of her pressed against you, how her hips moving against yours, the barely restrained hunger in her touch. Her lips traced along your jaw, pressing against your neck in a way that sent chills across your skin. Each soft grind sent ripples of electricity through you, your breaths becoming shallow as you felt yourself getting unsteady.

Your fingers curled into her shirt as her lips moved softly along your neck, the sound of her low hum sending a rush of heat through you. Then, just as suddenly, Lucy seemed to become aware of something, pulling back to look at you, her gaze hazy and unfocused, like she’d just come back down to earth.

You smiled, biting your lip, your legs tightening around her, holding her close.

She gave you a breathless smile, leaning in to kiss you again, this time softer, a little more composed. "Uhm, we should continue eating, hm?" she murmured, her voice laced with both amusement and hesitation.

"Well.. I’m not that hungry anymore," you replied, eyes locked with hers. Your heart tutted loudly in your chest. Your cheeks felt burning hot and you ached for something. You didn´t know what for, but you where wanting.

Lucy´s cheeks tinged pink, but she managed to keep her gaze steady. "Okay," she breathed, though there was a flicker of unsteadiness there.

Noticing it, you chuckled, slowly loosening your legs from around her. "But we can eat, " you teased, ‘’if you are hungry…"

Lucy’s mouth curved into a mischievous grin. "Oh, I’m hungry,´´ she murmured in a low, playful growl, ´´but not for the food" sweeping you up into her arms.

You giggled, letting yourself melt into her hold as she carried you down the hall.

When you reached your bedroom, she set you back down just before the door, gesturing grandly. "After you."

Stepping inside, you smiled. Your bedroom was transformed; the curtains were closed, a soft glow of dozens of candles casting warm, flickering light everywhere, their soft glow enveloping you both. The bed was covered in rose petals, arranged in the shape of a heart.

"It’s beautiful, Luce," you murmured, touched. "You put so much effort into this."

She shook her head modestly, glancing away. "No, it’s really nothing, I just wanted to—"

You turned back to her with a chuckle. "The candles are fake, I hope?"

Lucy laughed, scratching the back of her neck as she joined you in the room. "Oh, yeah. I figured it was… safer… and you know, I could put them on already."

You nodded and closed the space between you, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, wordlessly letting her know just how much everything meant to you.

Lucy held your gaze for a moment, eyes soft before she took your hand, leading you gently toward the bed.

The room felt warm as you stepped inside, the soft glow of candles casting flickering shadows on the walls. You turned toward Lucy, feeling the quiet electricity in the air between you both.

There was a heartbeat of silence, a moment where the two of you just looked at each other, taking in this instant you’d both waited for.

Lucy broke the silence first, her fingers brushing over your cheek, down to your jaw and pausing there as her eyes searched yours. Her gaze was soft, maybe a little nervous but entirely steady, holding a depth of care that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world she could see. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with quiet awe.

A shy smile tugged at your lips, and you stepped closer, letting your fingers find the hem of her shirt. “Can I…?” you asked softly, meeting her gaze, asking without words if this was all right.

Lucy nodded, her hands finding their way to your waist, fingers light as though she were both carefull and eager all at once. You began to lift the fabric, inching it upward, feeling a heady mixture of nerves and excitement that made your fingers tremble.

As her shirt lifted, more of her skin was revealed in the warm candlelight and you let out a soft, almost breathless laugh. “You’re… hmm,” you murmured, not able to hide the excitement in your voice.

She chuckled softly, helping you remove her shirt.

Once her shirt was off, you let your fingertips trail slowly along her arms, feeling the curve of her bicep, your touch reverent as if she were something precious, almost sacred. She stayed still, watching you with parted lips, her breathing just a bit heavier then usual.

Your hand continued down over her shoulder and chest, tracing lightly as you went, feeling the defined muscle under soft skin. Fingers sliding over the line of her collarbone, pausing briefly at her chest before continuing downward to her stomach. Your fingertips brushed over the lines of her abs, feeling the strength there. She shivered under your touch.

Her own hands found the buttons of your shirt in response, looking at you for approval and after you nodded she took a steadying breath before unbuttoning them, her eyes never leaving you as more of your skin was revealed. She was quiet, reverent almost, as though seeing you this way was something that left her breathless.

And there you stood, inches apart, taking each other in. The hunger was there, palpable, but so was the sweetness, the awe, as though you were both seeing something rare and precious—something you wanted to savor.

Her lips found yours again, the kiss deepening as she guided you backward, her hands brushing over your shoulders and sides. When you reached the edge of the bed, she swept the rose petals aside with a quick swipe. She lowered you carefully onto the bed and you tugged her down with you.

With a quiet breath, you reached back to unclip your bra, letting the straps slide down your shoulders. Lucy watched closely, her gaze warm and attentive. She gently slipped the bra off for you, tossing it aside without her eyes leaving your chest.

You whispered her name, wanting her attention, ‘’Luce’’.

She lifted her head, searching your eyes with a slight smile.

"Take yours off too?" you asked, almost shyly.

She nodded immediately. “Of course.” She sat up slightly and tugged off her own bra, letting it fall to the floor as well before leaning back over you, her bare chest now in your view. Your gaze lingered, appreciating every detail, your lips parting slightly as you took in the softness and beauty of her skin, her hardened nipples inviting your touch.

Seeing you captivated, Lucy gently took your hands in hers, smirking a little as she guided them to her chest. She laced her fingers through yours, encouraging you to cup her breasts, your palms brushing over the sensitive peaks. You gave a gentle squeeze, feeling the heat of her skin against your hands, still entranced by her body.

Lucy’s smile softened as she took in your focused expression. “Feels good?” she asked amused.

“Mhm,” you murmured, still in a bit of a daze before you blinked, meeting her eyes. “Yeah.”

..

part 3 next monday

[batbabydamian]

The Boy Wonder #1 by Juni Ba rambling about why every time i open this book, i stare in wonder...HAHA and ofc!! how cute Damian is!!

Juni Ba’s style is so absurdly effective in telling a fairy tale for the ages. It’s a stunning blend of simplicity and complexity I'M GRIPPING THE PAGES AGAINST MY EYES…

Before getting into the interiors, THE COVER!! It associates autumn leaves to Damian's Robin title through the iconic cape shape/color; and on top of that, for a Robin going through a big transition in his life...a season of change one might say...Juni Ba your brain...

Damian and the leaves being the only colored parts of this cover is nice in focusing on those elements, but i also like to think by not coloring the background it prepares you to expect impressive inkwork in this book.

On that note, the interiors!! Starting off with Ba's backgrounds of Gotham as it establishes the strange new world that our young hero has been thrust into:

We get a neat tracking shot following a champagne glass that gives us a glimpse of Gotham from the upper echelons to the downtrodden in "Underwell"

This opening sequence quickly lays out the environment Damian will be traveling through in this series! It also sets the tone for some silliness with the cute zoom on the champagne glass before it BOKs the robber lol. Along with Ba's inks, O'Halloran's colors makes every part of Gotham pop - especially love the golds of the higher society shifting into the blues of the underbelly!!

Besides Damian’s personal conflict, Gotham feels like its own entity that he has to contend with. The dialogue speaks for itself, but within the art as well!!

"This city of ours swallows and crushes everything it can" -> a gargoyle's beak over Damian, crowds of people, and walls of advertising

"You've seen it too...the way it coils around one's mind from below." -> bridges and a passing train on a rail viaduct towering over a civilian

"A dark voice calling as if to say..." -> literally, "FEED ME"

LOVELY SHOT OF MOVEMENT... and i love how Damian's venture into Gotham opens with him passing a tree - its branches and leaves are the most organic element on the page before getting into the gritty details of the city! Some yammering because the inks are. so cool: the delicate lines of the leaves in the tree to the thicker/bigger lined ones closer to the camera on the right; the background inks allowing space around Damian's form + the fine line of his grapple!! More O'Halloran praise - PRETTY, and love his coloring over Ba's bg lines, particularly here, keeping the leaves darker on the right.

It's not only a pretty page it's just a really clean layout!! Ba exhibits this throughout the book but i really enjoy it here - from Damian nyooming, we head into these last 3 panels. his cute lil "Robin" shape easily draws the eye to the tops of the panels as we take in Gotham's liveliness alongside the lettering/narration

and the "Robin" shape?? SO CUTE. it's instantly familiar to us as Robin!! bold outline and filled with yellow...it's a Robin in movement!!...AN AUTUMN LEAF IN THE WIND... yeah, still not over that 😭

Damian's inciting incident is introduced in the former panel with a gorgeous backdrop of Gotham in the distance (plus itty bitty Trinity cameo haha). The shot parallels!! beautifully!! in the final page!! Damian is now in the depths of Gotham, his objective out of reach. The colors are of note too, where the familiar yellows of Gotham are suddenly a startling green after the demon makes its appearance. The Gotham land looks even more unfamiliar, which prompts Damian to seek help.

Some speculation, but the green could also be associated with the more mythical side of demons and such (like the ghost?? of the thief), but it could even imply there's a connection to the Al Ghuls themselves as it's the only other time green is so prominently used.

Now that the land of Gotham is established, popping in other fav bgs!

More lovely mix of Ba's inks and O'Halloran's colors!! especially allowing some of the brush/marker strokes to show faintly as part of the twinkling sky...STUNNING!! 😭 i love this whole page but this panel gets me weepy, SMALL DAMIAN IN THE VAST UNIVERSE COMBINED WITH THIS LINE "He knew he could be great. How unfair of the world to make him feel so small." KICKS MY ASS... i need to lie down

YAPPING AT MORE WONDERFUL INKING: the suggestion of windows offscreen from the frames casting these thick lines over the walls and stairwell; the minute shadow details over the railing; the hatching on the suits in the portrait; the framed portrait being its own panel!! cute hooded Damian in the gutter space looking in on the portrait/panel!! CUTE HOODED DAMIANS!!

SPEAKING OF PANELS, along with general effectiveness and efficiency, there's more whimsy in others!! like this kickass page of Nightwing whipping his escrima from first panel -> afterimage lines going POWPOWPOW hitting demons from a distance to ones closer to the camera -> and back into his hand!! IT'S SO GOOD AND SO FUN!!

Ba's action employs more diagonal panels, and characters are less restrained within boxes - there's more energy and freedom across the page!

not necessarily focusing on the action for this one, but THE WHIMSY!! the border itself is goop!! Also gotta point out that looming hammer shape!!

Nightwing's critical hit spans the entire page!! from silhouettes of a flip -> flashy stomping pose/Clayface -> to a distant shot of Dick landing

and a smooth finisher page!! love the motion lines on Dick's arms and waist + his head and arc effects popping outside of the borders; then the smaller panels for quick activity, and the final WOOB WOOB WOOB LOL i can hear this sound effect just as much as i can see it

Along with O'Halloran on colors, Aditya Bidikar on lettering works seamlessly with Ba's vision!! The text boxes for the fairy tale narration are like strips of yellowing pages from an old storybook!! Had to look up the term for this lol, but also reminiscent of those storybooks, there's even a use of "drop caps" - the big fancy capital letter!

Smaller things of note, but the bit of "Weakness" text from Ra's has a kind of. grandiose feel to it. Then the cute B< Damian behind the window!! Love how the bubble and text are faded behind the glass too! The end of the bubble tail is a nice touch as it matches well with Ba's bg inking :0

Otherwise, it seems Ba has done a majority of the lettering - dropping a couple of my favs below!!

also just this whole page: the very loud AAAH! text draws both Damian's and the reader's attention to the panel below!! it's a cool transition to a new shot where you can see Damian's silhouette on the building! The final panel is cartoony violence off-page through the bold POW BOOM SLAM haha + DAMIAN'S LIL FIST!!🥺 and the guy's tooth RIP

Pure speculation - Juni Ba's concept art included Carrie Kelley, so i'm wondering if the hostage in the beginning could be her and we'll be returning to this moment in time by the end. The worn Robin colors are similar to the design + their head is conveniently covered.

In terms of story, I'm obviously heavily biased, but the initial read got me rolling in emotions with how it has you caring for Damian. Damian as a character is so fantastical in essence - it’s part of his individual charm in the batfam cast! an heir of two kingdoms, born and raised with great expectations suddenly thrust into an unfamiliar land. he has a sword. he has a dragon bat for a companion. he is haunted by the sins he has committed. he is two apples tall. he's truly fairytale material!!

LIKE...past the panels of only his silhouettes, this is our introductory appearances of Damian. It's laid out clearly in the narration, but this parallel is SO GOOD: from the powerful and ornate visuals of Damian and the Al Ghuls -> to a simple panel of Batman's shadow behind a boy littered in scars, stripped of his home and status

Damian is out of his element and proves himself in the way he knows how!!

just kick me down a flight of stairs why don't you. i don't know which messes me up more, the top 3 or bottom 3 panels. His facial expressions!! his expectations for approval dashed!! Damian's hand reaching for his father!! only to be left alone with the body. The page after this is the final nail in the coffin in feeling just how lost he is in the world before he acts on it. And you root for him the entire way!!😭

Despite Damian's fanciful background there's so much heart to be shown in his struggles and discoveries - and this classic form of a fairy tale lays it out so brilliantly!! It's shaping up to be an amazing balance of heavier elements and whimsy based on this first issue, and it leaves you wanting more!!

Besides being a thoroughly enjoyable read, it's inspiring work!! i've ordered Juni Ba's other books to consume more of his storytelling, and here's the ones i've found so far if you're interested in checking them out as well!!

Mobilis: My Life with Captain Nemo

Monkey Meat

Djeliya: A West African Fantasy Epic

The Unlikely Story of Felix and Macabber

okay shockingly, i didn't blab about how cute Damian is as much as i thought i would, but i think the collage at the top speaks for itself lol

this is all you need to know how cute Damian is in this!! his cheeks are so pinchable, it was done on page!! 🥺 these panels obliterate me

[meiluu]

omg omg omg I've got an idea!! So... mean and demanding Cloud when he was controlled by Sephiroth?? Like you know how he's usually so nice and soft during that time... well now he's the opposite? I mean only if you're comfortable with it of course

I love this idea and, so here's a little something that came to mind after reading this...

CW: SMUT 18+, a bit dark, Angst, Cloud isn't fully there and his actions are being influenced by Sephiroth. smut below the cut. *NOT EDITED*

Cloud your sweet boyfriend, who could be a bit icy on the outside but when he's with you that icy nature melts and underneath that layer is a young man who craves your love like he needs air. Wholly devoted to you, his heart handed to you for safe keeping forevermore.

But with the threat of the planet and the loaming shadow of sephiroth, cloud has been...different to say the least. Quick to give into his anger and frustration, especially on the battlefield. Acting strangely towards some of the other members in your merry little group. You had thought that maybe it would lessen over time, but it only seem to do the opposite. But even with all of this you made it clear to cloud that you were there for him, yet he seemed to brush you off nodding absentmindedly.

It hurt you to say the least, but you held strong and continued to remain by his side. And your efforts seemed to be paying off, slowly cloud had begun to seek you out after battles and when he needed your comforting.

Although this time seemed different from others, his mako infused eyes held an emotion that had your hair standing up on end.

A muffled cry of pleasure leaves you as Cloud continues his near brutal thrusts. On your knees with your head partially buried into your pillow, you can feel Clouds strong and unyielding grip on your hips as he ruts into you like he was a starved animal. When he had come to you after another day of fighting monsters as they followed the trial towards Sephiroth, you had expected a typical cuddle session or made some soft sex to come down from the stressful day. Not this.

Its not that you didn't like this, it was just something Cloud had never really done. He always took his time with you, relishing in your shared time together. And even when he did get a bit carried away you could always feel the love with his actions or with his pleasure filled words.

"Cloud- too much I-" your words are hard to get out with your moans breaking them up. Hands gripping into the sheets as you lift your head turning it to the side to see Cloud. Eyes focusing in on his gorgeous face, his eyes are locked onto where his cock is thrusting in and out of your cunt. His eyes rise to meet yours, pupils blown wide at the view in front of him. A smirk crawls onto his face, then he is moving his hands from your hips to beside yours that are still gripping onto the sheets. "You can take it, you were made for this- For me." His near patronizing words are barely registered with the new angle he has you in. Cock going so deep hitting the spots within you that had the breath leaving your lungs in a moaned cry. One calloused hand of Cloud clasps onto one of yours while the other goes underneath your chin. Acting as a makeshift collar, turning your head towards his. Mako gazing piercing yours.

"You're mine, this-" a thrust accentuates his words cock bullying itself deeper into your orgasming cunt, "is only for me. So perfect just for me."

[tsuutarr]

I Want to Pepper You In Kisses

Pairing: Arven x GN!Reader

Word count: 10K

Genres: fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint

Summary: Somehow, Arven’s journey to find Herba Mystica ended with him falling in love with you.

Before Arven falls in love with you, he’s not entirely sure what to make of you. He honestly finds you a nuisance, along with that hyperactive student council president. Seeing the brute out and about feeds into his annoyance, too. 

“What’re you doing out here?!” he yells, pointing an accusatory finger at the Pokémon his parent loved more than they loved him.

“Hey, please don’t get too angry – this sweetheart here helped me out,” you say.

Arven scoffs. “I’m not talking to you two. You can shove off.”

He expects you to get angry then and leave, but you don’t. Instead, your gaze softens for some unknown reason and he can’t maintain eye contact, so he looks away.

Then, the stupid student council president mentions his relation to the “great professor,” making anger course through his veins.

“It doesn’t matter who my parent is!” He crosses his arms, eyes narrowed into a glare as he tries to fight the bitterness rising in his chest. “The real issue here is what in the world this Pokémon is doing out here. And what’s with this form it’s in?”

“See, we heard this strange cry, and we tried to investigate it, but…” Nemona begins.

“But I fell off a cliff.” You give a small shrug with an awkward grin. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“And as mentioned earlier, this Pokémon came to the rescue!” Nemona beams. “But it seems like it wore itself out in the process. It got kinda… slumpy afterward. But you shoulda seen it before! It looked totally different – it was unbelievably strong!”

“Well, yeah. As it should be. But it can’t fight while it’s like this. The form you saw it take in battle – that’s its true form.”

“Heh,” you pat the brute’s head lovingly and Arven briefly wonders how your fingers would feel ruffling through his hair. He quickly shoves the thought from his mind. “You’re quite strong, huh?”

“...I don’t remember ever seeing you around. But given the uniform… You go to the academy too, do you?” he asks, making you nod. “Well, that brute isn’t the sort of Pokémon any old trainer can hope to command. It’s special.”

“Well, it definitely does seem that way,” you agree amicably as if he didn’t just insult your fighting prowess. Why aren’t you mad? Why aren’t you ignoring him? Why aren’t you… Ugh. He’s really not used to it and maybe that’s why he asks his next question.

“You think you’re up to ordering it around? Then how ‘bout I test your worthiness?”

You pause, seemingly surprised at his offer. You make eye contact with the brute who blinks at you, before cuddling its head into your side lovingly. You can’t help but laugh as you agree to battle him.

“I’ve been feeling all out of sorts, so I’m gonna use this battle to blast these doldrums away!” he announces, throwing out his newly caught Skowvet. He’s not really sure what outcome he expected, but he definitely didn’t expect you to absolutely pulverize him in battle.

“Good job,” you murmur sweetly as your starter Pokémon hops over to you, nuzzling your hand as you pet it. Arven can’t help but think about how warm your eyes look then, but he quickly glances away, afraid of being caught. You glance at Arven, who’s withdrawing his Pokémon into its ball. Smiling at him, you approach him, offering your hand. “Good battle.”

He doesn’t take it, instead opting to shove his Poké Ball back into his pocket. “I guess I wasn’t ever going to stand a chance using some Pokémon I’d only just caught…” he mutters. “But if you really think you can take that brute off my hands for me… you’ll need this. It’s its Poké Ball.”

You take it with a nod and a smile. “Thank you.”

Arceus, he’s really not used to people being nice to him. Or smiling. Or anything, really, so the softness in your expression throws him off wholly, making his ears feel hot. “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “that thing’s your problem now, not mine. Good luck.”

“Mhm,” you agree. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he says dumbly, “Uh. See you around, I guess.”

“See you!”

Arceus, he’s really not sure what to make of you.

His stance on your existence is further complicated as rumors about you seem to float around the school. He’s positive that the Academy has new students all the time, but for some reason you seem to stand out – and what’s this about you fighting Team Star? You’re definitely having some kind of day. Falling off a cliff, getting pawned an annoying Pokémon, beating up some Team Star grunt… you just seem to attract trouble.

Trouble…

An idea pops up in his head.

The next time he sees you, it’s during lunchtime. He notices you almost immediately and he tries to ignore the implications of that. He’s surprised to not see the annoying student council president next to you, but he takes it as his opportunity and slides up next to you as you browse the food selection in the cafeteria. “Oh, hey!” he catches your attention and you turn to him with a tilt of your head. He half expects your face to morph into one of disappointment but it doesn’t and it makes him feel… soft. Weird. He shoves the feeling down. “You remember me, right?”

You raise an inquisitive eyebrow, your lips twitching upwards. “I don’t think we’ve met…”

He must’ve made an odd expression, because a laugh jumps out of your throat.

“I’m kidding. From the lighthouse?’

“Yeah, exactly!” Arven feels oddly cozy. “That’s my little know-it-all buddy. Got a mind like a steel trap, eh?”

You blink at him, before saying, “I wouldn’t say that,” with a snort. “Ah, but I don’t think I’ve introduced myself –”

“Don’t worry about it.” Arven says your name. “That’s your name, right? The whole school seems to be talking about you. The new kid who showed up as the president of the student council.”

You scrunch up your nose a little at that. “I didn’t think I’d stand out that much.”

You stand out for a lot of reasons, Arven wanted to say, but instead says, “I normally wouldn’t even bother showing up for class, but I came all the way to school today just to talk to you, actually. Our new celebrity. You’ve gotta help me out so I can finally make my dream a reality!”

“Happy to help!” you respond, making him blink.

“Uh? What kind of little maniac says yes to something without knowing what they’re agreeing to?!”

“Well, you said it’s your dream, right?” you offer him a smile. “I dunno, I guess I’ve always admired people with dreams. Don’t really have any myself, so…” you give him a shrug. “What’s this dream?”

Your kindness makes him feel a little sick. He’s using you and you’re willing to be used – but before guilt can really settle in, he nods. Arven begins his spiel about picnics and sandwiches and health foods and he knows he’s rambling but you listen patiently. “...So. That’s the gist.” He rubs the nape of his neck. “I really want to get those herbs myself, but… I’m not very good at Pokémon battles. Don’t have any friends with strong Pokémon to lend me a hand, either.” Well, he didn’t really have friends, period, but he wasn’t going to say that. “And I’d never hear the end of it if I went crawling to that student council girl.” Arven inhales. “But then you waltz up! You’ve got to help me out with this – you’d be perfect!”

“Well–”

“Nope! Wait! I don’t need an answer yet! I’ll just register the places where it seems there might be Titans in your map app for you.” 

You laugh. “Well, I’ve pretty much made my decision, but okay.”

“Just let it stew a bit,” Arven insists. “And we can get more into the details later.”

“Gotcha,” you nod. “I’ll get some food in the meantime. Wanna join?”

“I have places to be,” Arven responds. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“All right, fine by me. See you!”

When Arven leaves the cafeteria, he regrets not taking you up on your offer. But he pushes the thought away, fiddling with the old Poké Ball in his pocket – he has places to be.

When he sees you again, he almost groans in annoyance at seeing Nemona with you. Surely chattering on about battles. Again.

“Hey, little buddy!” he yells, running up to you both. Arven gives you a little nod of acknowledgement, before narrowing his eyes at Nemona. “Tch. How’s that for a student council president! Giving your own friends an insider advantage?”

You stand, an amused expression on your face, as Arven and Nemona argue.

“I can do both, you know.” You finally say, trying to appease them. Pulling out your Rotom Phone, you show them the places marked on your map app. “See? They’re all pretty close to each other. I’ll do them all as I tackle Paldea.”

“So you’ll challenge the gyms?” Nemona asks, a sparkle in her eyes. As you nod, she cheers. “En serio? How exciting!”

“...Tch, fine. As long as you help me tackle the Titans, I guess.” Arven relents. “Well, I’m outta here. Catch up soon, little buddy!”

You laugh. “I will!”

Arven won’t admit it, but his steps feel lighter at your agreement to help him.

---

The first time Arven falls in love with you, he doesn’t even realize he’s fallen. Instead, he recognizes the overwhelming sense of relief at seeing you run up to him.

“Hey, Arven!”

“Hey,” he says, his tense shoulders relaxing by seeing your smile.

“How’ve you been?”

“Eh, the usual,” he responds, before awkwardly tacking on, “You?”

“Heh, I’ve been good,” you respond. “You ready to look for the Stony Cliff Titan?”

Arven snorts. “You’re more excited than me.”

“What can I say?” your gaze is so kind as you look at him that it makes his cheeks warm. “I want to help you achieve your dream.”

“All right, all right,” he huffs, though he can’t help the smile that sneaks up on his face. “Let’s split up then, yeah? It should be around this area, but we can cover more ground this way.”

“Sounds good to me! Call me if you find it, okay?”

“‘Course,” Arven responds. “Same to you!”

He hadn’t expected to hear from you so fast. “Arven!” you exclaim, “I found it – whoa, dodge that!” you command as a rock hurtles towards your Pokémon. “Yeesh, this thing is huge!”

“I’m on my way!” he hurriedly says, worry lacing his voice. He couldn’t help it – you were battling a Titan by yourself. You guys were supposed to fight it together! 

“Hah, don’t hurt yourself while rushing over here,” you laugh with ease and he’s surprised at how much your voice calms him down. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

Despite your words of assurance, he finds himself rushing to you. He can’t let you get hurt so early in the hunt, after all. 

When he gets to where you are, you’ve already done a lot of damage to the Titan. His mouth gapes in surprise at the huge size of the Pokémon, as well how cheery you are as you wave at him. “Hey, Arven!” you beam.

“Behind you!” he yells, and you hurriedly turn your attention back to the battle, commanding your Pokémon to counterattack. He won’t lie – you look kind of cool like this. Like a hero. His hero. Arceus, that’s embarrassing, Arven thinks, burying that thought deep into the crevices of his brain.

“Thanks!”

“No problem, but… that’s the Stony Cliff Titan? No Klawf has got any business being that big!” 

“Agreed,” you laugh, before tilting your head as you see the Klawf scrambling away. “Uh… Where’s it going?”

“It’s heading inside that cave…?” Arven’s eyes widen when the Klawf scrambles back outside with something in its hand.

“Do you think that’s–”

“A Herba Mystica!”

You and Arven watch as the Klawf gobbles the herb and it begins to glow, shaking with some immense power.

“You think it’s gonna be even stronger now, after eating all those herbs? Let’s watch ourselves!”

“You got it!” you nod. “I trust you to have my back!”

Arven can feel ears warm again as he tosses out his Shellder. You trusted him? You actually trusted him to have your back. Well, he can admit the feeling is mutual, at least. And, he won’t admit it to you, but watching you battle is riveting. The way your eyes shine, the confidence in your directions, you standing by his side – it makes his heart beat so fast he isn’t sure what to do with himself.

Adrenaline is still pumping through his veins when you’ve defeated the Titan, making his limbs feel jittery. His heart beats even faster as you turn to him, eyes crinkled at the sides as you raise your hand for a high five. Cute, he thinks as his palm makes contact with yours.

“We did it!” you cheer.

“Yeah,” he feels kind of breathless, but he can’t help the wide smile that overtakes his features. “Look at you – my little buddy; coming through like a champ!”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you respond, and Arven’s heart warms because he knows you could’ve done it without him. You’re so much better than him, after all.

He shakes his head at the thought, feeling his heart jolt painfully.

“These Titan Pokémon are… yeesh. I sure don’t like having something so tough out to get me.”

“Don’t worry!” When your laugh resounds again, Arven wonders how you can be so happy. “If they come for you, I’ll get them.”

His face heats up again as he clears his throat. “Anyway, I’m sure there’s more Herba Mystica somewhere back there – quick, let’s have a look before it comes back.”

You follow after Arven, asking, “Which one do you think we’ll find?”

“According to the book, it’s the Sweet Herba Mystica–”

“Whoa!” you trip, making Arven act faster than he thought possible. He grabs your arm as you stabilize yourself.

“Watch your step, it’s pretty dark,” Arven murmurs, removing his hand from your arm. He clenches his hand, still feeling your lingering warmth.

“Sorry, sorry,” you say.

“Nah, don’t apologize.” Arven pauses. “Uh, and if it helps… you can, uh, grab onto my vest or something.”

“I’ll take you up on that, actually,” you huff out a laugh, fingers gently grabbing the back of his vest. Arceus why did he offer this? He feels like he’s gonna die from how fast his heart is beating. Now he has to deal with making sure you both don’t trip and the thought makes him nervous (which is definitely, definitely the only reason his heart is beating so fast).

Before Arven can dwell in his thoughts for too long, his feet stop, making you bump into his back.

“Oof!”

 Arven wants to apologize, but he can’t as his throat constricts at the sight of the pink herb glimmering in the dark. “It’s – it’s real. It’s real!” He feels like crying, but he holds it in, taking in a shaking breath. “Let’s see… The book says that the Sweet Herba Mystica is good for gut health and that it helps aid digestion. Says it’s good for stomach aches, too, or when you want to stimulate an appetite!”

“Heh, that battle stimulated my appetite enough,” you hum and Arven can’t help but agree.

“...Now, if I can just get him to eat some…”

You look at him curiously, but don’t pry, which he’s grateful for.

“All right! Now it’s my turn to show off what I can do. You’re about to get a taste of my cooking!”

“Looking forward to it!” you respond and Arven can feel a grin come on his face as he prepares to cook.

He first learned how to cook all those years ago because he was the only one who could take care of himself. His parent was always too busy to take care of him, after all, so he could only really rely on himself and Mabosstiff. Well, it worked out in the end – him cooking turned out to be a good enough bribe for you to help him, which he really didn’t expect. He was so used to expecting people to help him and no one coming through, so you being there felt odd. But it wasn’t a bad thing, really. He… just hopes you’ll be able to stick around till the end. Just until he can get all the herbs, at least.

Somehow, the thought that you won’t talk to him after you get all the herbs kind of bothers him.

“Here you go!” Arven announces, trying to rid himself of his thoughts. He hands you the plate with a sandwich on it.

“Oh, that looks delicious!” you beam, making his heart swell with pride.

“It’s an Arven-original sandwich packed full of herbs! And–” he digs through his pocket, handing you something that looks like a badge. “–I’ll even give you this. It’s called a Titan Badge. I modeled it after the gym badges.”

You let out a whistle. “This looks genuine,” you marvel. “You’re really good with your hands.”

“Nah, it’s really nothing,” he bashfully says, but the moment is interrupted as the brute springs out of its Poké Ball. “What’s up with that thing? It just comes out of its ball whenever it wants?”

“I guess?” you respond, patting your Pokémon lovingly. It purrs underneath your touch, before sniffing at your sandwich.

“Hey now,” Arven says. “That’s not for you.”

Even as Arven says that, you give the sandwich to the brute, making Arven sigh. He’s starting to think you’re a complete pushover.

“Hey! I went through all the trouble of making that for you, and you just give it away? I hope you realize that’s all there was, so now there’s none left for you.”

“Oh.” You hum in thought. “That’s fine, don’t worry. Sorry about giving your sandwich away, though.”

Your kind gaze makes Arven heave out another sigh. “Aw, come on! Now you’re making me feel bad,” he grumbles without any real bite. He cuts his own sandwich in half, offering it to you.

“Oh, you really don’t have to–”

“Just take it,” he responds. “You fought hard, y’know. You should eat.”

“...Thanks.” You take the sandwich from him. He watches you expectantly as you take a huge bite and he’d be lying if he wasn’t absolutely ecstatic when he sees your eyes light up. “This is good!”

“Heh, I’m glad you think so!” he boasts, pleased, before he looks at your Pokémon. “Hey… is it just me or has your brute–”

You clear your throat.

“–your partner gotten… stronger?”

“I think so,” you tilt your head. “You think you got stronger, ‘Don?”

“Agias!” it responds, making you laugh.

He stares at the way you two interact with each other and there’s this twinge of something that stabs at him. At one point, that was how he and his Mabosstiff interacted.

“Arven?” you ask him, cautiously. 

He swallows. “The power of these herbs is really something! If they had that big of an effect on your Pokémon, then I bet…” he trails off. “I’ll start cleaning up – don’t worry about it!” he waves you away when you approach him to help. “You’ve done more than enough by defeating that Titan Pokémon. Leave the rest to me. Just… if you can, it’d be great if you could get started on searching out the other Herba Mystica for us.”

“You got it,” you salute. “See you, Arven. Thanks again for the sandwich!”

He watches as you disappear out of the cave, whispering, “I really owe you one.” He inhales, before carefully letting his Mabosstiff out. It’s been a while since Arven’s heard Mabosstiff’s bark, but he still can’t help the disappointment that settles in his bones when he sees that all his partner can do is heave labored breaths. Gently, Arven combs his fingers through Mabosstiff’s thick fur. “Hey, buddy,” he murmurs. “You think you can eat this for me?”

Mabosstiff merely whines in response and Arven can feel his heart clench uncomfortably.

“It’s okay, bud.” Arven breaks off small chunks of the sandwich, feeding them to Mabosstiff one by one, carefully watching Mabosstiff’s reaction. 

Mabosstiff, the sweet friend that he is, slowly but surely eats what Arven offers. 

“You know,” Arven says, scratching behind Mabosstiff’s ear. “I actually made this with someone else.”

In response to Arven’s words, Mabosstiff nuzzles into Arven’s knee. It’s a soft gesture that makes tears well up in Arven's eyes.

“Yeah, I just met them recently but… they’ve agreed to help me help you,” Arven begins, still gently patting his Pokémon. Arven begins talking about how strong you are and how pretty you are when you smile. How cool you are when you fight. Recounting stories about you, little snippets about how you laugh or how you say certain words, makes Arven’s heart feel strangely warm and before he knows it, Mabosstiff has been lulled to sleep, paws warmer than before.

---

The second time Arven falls in love with you, he’s so overwhelmed by your kindness that he doesn’t realize he’s in love.

“Second Titan down!” you cheer, holding up your hand for another high five. Arven can’t help but grin back, hitting your palm with his. There’s a pleasant tingle that spreads out across his palm.

“You were amazing there, y’know?” he says, adjusting his bag, which makes you peer at him curiously.

“Isn’t that heavy?”

“Nah, I’ve been lugging this thing for a while, so…” he shakes his head, tilting his chin towards the direction of the cave. “Let’s get goin’ before the Titan comes back for seconds.”

“You got it!” you agree, following after Arven.

“If we’re lucky, there’ll be another herb here…”

“Over there!” you point, making the both of you run to it.

“It’s a Herba Mystica!” Arven grins, looking at the green herb. “Thanks, really. If I can just get him to eat this…” his voice turns quiet as he gazes at the herb in silence. It’s the second herb out of five and Arven desperately, desperately hopes this will do something to help Mabosstiff.

“Arven…”

He lightly smacks his cheeks with his hands, trying to get rid of his negative thoughts. “Okay, let me whip something up for us!” 

“...Okay,” you say softly with a smile. “Waiting for a good meal, chef.”

“You can count on it!” he responds as he gets ready to cook. It’s something he’s noticed lately, but sometimes he thinks about you while he’s cooking. It’s kinda embarrassing since you’re right there, but he can’t really help it. He didn’t think you’d pull through for a second time, which, maybe he shouldn’t have doubted you, but years of disappointment made it hard for him to expect things from anyone that isn’t him. Still, he’s so grateful because really, no matter how good his cooking is, there’s no reason to help him. After all, it wasn’t like you considered him a friend or anything yet, right…? 

It would be nice if you did, though.

“All right, all done!” Arven announces. “Here you go! My special, whimsical, herb-filled super sandwich! And it comes with a Titan Badge!”

“I’m still impressed with how good these look.”

“Heh, I’m glad you – aw, come on! You again?” Arven groans, seeing your brutish partner pop out. It nuzzles into your side again, looking at you with big doe eyes as it begs for your sandwich. The brute took his parent, and now it’s trying to take you, too? He can’t help but feel a little jealous – wait. Jealous? Why would he feel jealous…? Arven shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts in order. Still, he can’t help but pout when the Pokémon looks at him and mewls. “...Hmph. Is it trying to say thanks or something?”

“Maybe,” you laugh. “It really liked your sandwich. I’m not a bad cook or anything, but ‘Don will longingly stare in the distance sometimes when it eats my cooking – probably thinking about yours, heh.”

Arven clears his throat to tamper out the embarrassment that he’s feeling. “Well, it’s a good thing I made extra, then.”

“Oh?” there’s a teasing glint in your eyes that makes his cheeks flush.

“I just made extra ‘cause you’ve been helpin’ me a lot!” there’s a small frown on his face, though it’s not malicious, “I definitely, absolutely, did not make extra for your partner.”

You raise your hands as a testament of peace, though there’s still a teasing grin on your face because you both know he’s lying. He’s thankful when you don’t push, though, instead opting to take his sandwich from him. “This smells great, Arven!” Beside you, your partner yips happily, nudging you to hurry up and feed it. With a laugh – one that Arven absolutely does not think is cute – you give your partner its sandwich. After it gobbles down its sandwich, it glows brilliantly, making Arven’s eyebrows rise.

“Did it grow stronger again?”

“I think so!” you beam, patting your Pokémon. “Look at you go!”

“Man… these Herba Mystica really do pack a punch, huh? I mean, they ought to, or else–” Arven’s eyes widen as your Pokémon lumbers over to an extra sandwich on the table. The Pokémon’s action makes rage bolt through Arven, but even more than that, panic. “Don’t you dare touch that – it isn’t for you!” His shoulders are tense as he yells, his voice echoing throughout the cave. Both you and your Pokémon blink in surprise and Arven tries his best to control his ragged breathing, but it’s hard.

“Arven,” you murmur, placing a hand on his shoulder. He expected you to slap him for yelling at your Pokémon, so your soft touch gives him whiplash. “I’m sorry about ‘Don. Are you all right?”

“Yeah – yeah.” He’s not sure why you’re able to help calm him down so quickly, but there’s a sense of peace that thrums through his veins, allowing him to think a little clearer. “Yeah.”

“‘Don.” There’s a chastising lilt to it that makes your Pokémon bow its head apologetically. It purrs, slinking away from the table and curling up.

“...I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have shouted like that…” Arven inhales, the air feeling heavy in his lungs. “I… guess I should at least tell you the full story.” Fiddling with the Poké Ball in his pocket, Arven intakes another deep breath, before letting his beloved Mabosstiff out. “This is Mabosstiff, my partner.” Arven takes the extra sandwich off of the table, breaking it into smaller chunks and feeding it to Mabosstiff. “Here you go, bud. Eat up. This sandwich should help you feel better. Slowly now. Take your time. Small bites are fine. Just chew nice and slow…”

Mabosstiff does as instructed, slowly, but surely, eating out of Arven’s hand. You watch the scene silently, but kneel down next to Arven. It’s an odd feeling, but Arven can’t help but appreciate the fact that you’re still here.

“...My buddy here was… hurt pretty bad a while ago. Real bad, in fact. He never really recovered,” Arven says, feeling tears well up in his throat.

“Oh, Arven… I’m so sorry,” you murmur, hand gently rubbing his back. Before he’s cognizant of what’s happening, you’ve drawn him to your chest, giving him a hug. You have to angle yourself a little oddly because he’s so much taller than you, but that fact just makes his heart feel even more warm. He can’t really bring himself to hug you back fully, but he grabs the back of your shirt as he tries to steady his breathing.

“Nothing seems to help,” his voice cracks, “not potions, not Pokémon Centers… Nothing.” Inhaling deeply, he closes his eyes. “Mabosstiff here is the only thing in the world I care about. The only thing… So, I promised that I’d make him better – whatever it takes.”

“And that’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah.”

“You must’ve done your research,” you hum. “I’m impressed you found this out.”

“I was desperate,” he murmurs, basking in your warmth for a beat longer, before pulling away and pulling out a book. “I – this book… I found it in my parent’s lab. It’s full of legends and stuff, things nobody’d usually believe…” Saying it aloud makes it dawn on him how kind you actually are – when he asked for your help, he’d asked without knowing if any of this had any substance or value yet you agreed. “...But I believe it.” His gaze meets yours. “As an example, Mabosstiff’s paws have gotten warmer when he first ate Herba Mystica – I’m sure of it!”

Arven’s gaze sweeps back to Mabosstiff who is still chewing his food.

“Oh! You done eating, bud?” Arven murmurs, threading his fingers through Mabosstiff’s thick fur. There’s a twinge of anxiety as Arven gazes at his beloved companion. Something – anything, please, Arven thinks, teeth worrying his bottom lip. 

Slowly, Mabosstiff’s eyes open, making Arven’s breath hitch in his throat.

“H–hey, Mabosstiff! Can… can you see? Are your eyes open?” Tears clog his throat again as he sniffs. “Yes! It… It’s been so long since he was able to open his eyes! I was so worried–” he sniffs “–oh man, I–! I’m so–! I’m so glad!”

You rub gentle circles on Arven’s back as you allow him to bask in his relief while crying.

“Thank you, really,” he finally says, making you laugh.

“It’s all you, Arven, promise.” Your gaze is contemplative as you tap your fingers against your knee. “Do you mind if I pet him?”

“Ah… Well, what do you say, Mabosstiff?”

Mabosstiff looks at you and you look back with a smile.

“He says yes,” Arven supplies helpfully.

“I’m glad you told me,” you laugh. “I couldn’t tell.” Still, you gently take your hands and scratch behind Mabosstiff’s ear, which he seems to like. Watching you carefully handle his buddy makes an indescribable emotion well up in Arven – he’s really not sure what to make of it, but he wants to burn the image of you and Mabosstiff into his brain.

“Aw, look at him look at you!” Arven huffs out a laugh. “Those fiery orange little eyes… Hard to tell if they’re open or not, but I know the difference!”

“Hah, I don’t doubt it,” you respond, giving Mabosstiff one last scratch before drawing your hand away.

“The power of these herbs really is amazing!” Arven beams, feeling a lot better after crying. “I’m gonna get the rest of these herbs and bring Mabosstiff to full health.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, making Arven awkwardly clear his throat. He knows that you’ve been nothing but kind to him, but he still feels a little shy around you now that things are dawning on him. He’s revealed his real reason for hunting Herba Mysticas and he’s cried in front of you, which is honestly pretty mortifying. But you take it in stride and for some reason, in his eyes, you’re glowing. Not wanting to bask in his awkwardness, he clears his throat.

“So… uh, yeah. That’s my story. Just… just three more to go.”

“Just three more to go,” you agree, before taking his hands into yours. Arven swears his heart just stopped. “Arven, I promise you that we’ll find the remaining herbs. We’re gonna bring Mabosstiff to full health, you’ll see.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, the passion in your eyes swallowing him whole.

You give his hands another squeeze before drawing away, making Arven really, really miss your warmth.

“We got this, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Arven agrees, nodding. “We do.”

---

The third time Arven falls in love with you, it’s because he realizes he finds comfort in your presence. You’ve just defeated the third Titan, and Arven can’t believe how amazing it feels. You’re both over halfway done with this quest – over half. He didn’t even think he’d be able to find one Herba Mystica, but somehow, with you, he’s found three. 

“Another successful search!” he beams, looking at the glowing herb. “We’re on a roll!”

“We are!” you agree, covered in mud from head to toe. The sight makes Arven laugh. “What?”

“Ah – it’s nothin’ to worry about,” he says, but the grin on his face says otherwise. Your eyes narrow and he can’t help but think it’s so freaking cute. 

“Hmph, I help a guy out and all he does is laugh at me…”

“And make you sandwiches,” he helpfully adds, making you snort.

“That too, I guess. Hm…”  you peer at him curiously, before digging through your pockets. Arven watches you curiously as you pull out a handkerchief. You stand on your toes, trying to reach his height as you carefully wipe his face. Arven stops breathing as you focus on him. “Okay, I think that’s as good as it’s gonna get,” you huff with a smile. “I can’t really do anything about your clothes, though. Sorry.”

“You–” Arven lets out a sigh, before bellowing out a laugh that makes you jump. “I really don’t know what to expect with you.”

“Thanks?”

Arven shakes his head with fondness, still feeling warmth radiate through his limbs. He digs through his bag, pulling out a fluffy Maschiff themed towel and handing it to you.

You take the toweling, blinking in confusion. “Thanks…?”

“You think I’m in a state?” he huffs, watching the expression on your face. You’re cute, Arven decides, but doesn’t put more thought into it because he’s so sure everyone finds you cute. 

“Is that why you were laughing?” you ask, finally, nose scrunching up. “I’m covered in mud, aren’t I?”

“Yup,” Arven responds with a smile. “Clean yourself up and I’ll get some food going.”

“Sounds good,” you reply, backing away from the picnic table. 

Arven watches you from the corner of his eye as you wipe your face and clothes, scrunching your nose in disdain. The sight makes him smile to himself as he begins to cook. Smiling wasn’t something he did too often before meeting you, but there’s just something about you that makes his lips quirk upwards. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” he exclaims, walking to where you’re sitting and handing you a plate. “Another one of your favorite ol’ Arven sandwiches with a side of Titan Badge!”

“Thank you!” you beam, still caked in mud but somehow glowing. 

“It’s nothing–” Arven snorts as your Pokémon pops out of its Poké Ball. “Figured this might happen. Don’t worry – I made extra this time for that partner of yours.”

“Thanks, Arven,” you beam, your partner chirping beside you in agreement.

“Yeah, no problem.” Arven fiddles with his Poké Ball for a bit, before gently letting Mabosstiff out. Shallow, but heavy, heaves leave Mabosstiff’s bruised body and Arven can feel his heart break, but he pushes on. Arven carefully breaks the sandwich down into smaller chunks, feeding it to Mabosstiff. “That’s it. Small bites, small bites…”

“Ah, ‘Don, slow down!”

Your voice makes him temporarily turn his attention to you, which allows him to observe your partner swallowing the sandwich whole.

“Ah, c’mon,” Arven huffs without malice. “At least bother to taste it before you swallow it right down, would you?”

You offer him a sheepish smile. “Uhm, if it’s any solace… I’m savoring every bite. It’s very good.”

Your words make Arven’s expression ease, a sense of comfort flooding through him. “That’s good, I’m glad.” For a brief moment, he stares at you eating his sandwich with glee, a sense of calm washing over him before his gaze shifts to Mabosstiff to assess Mabosstiff’s condition. “Oh. You done with your sandwich, Mabosstiff?”

A small sound escapes Mabosstiff, making both Arven and your eyes widen.

“R–ruff?! You… you heard that too, right?!” Bright teal eyes wet with tears turn to look at you. “Mabosstiff just woofed, right? Right?!”

“Right!” you agree, a wide grin on your face. “He definitely woofed!”

“See! See that?!” A relieved chuckle leaves Arven as his hands gently thread through Mabosstiff’s fur again. “I knew I wasn’t just hearing things!” With increased vigor, Arven scratches the back of Mabosstiff’s ear, causing the Pokémon to let out another small woof. “Oh, Mabosstiff! Who’s my best bud, huh? Who’s the best of boys? You are, yes, you are!” He sniffles and before he knows it, you're at his side again, rubbing circles on his back as you scratch Mabosstiff’s other ear.

Mabosstiff lets out another small woof at the attention he’s receiving, which makes Arven laugh through his tears.

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard that woof!” He can’t help but turn to you with a grin, which you reflect. “Mabosstiff is definitely getting better! Ever since I teamed up with you, good things keep happening!”

You laugh. “Then I guess I’ll have to work hard to make sure good things keep happening.”

Arven can feel his heart squeeze and he’s half-convinced that you’re trying to kill him.

“Just two more, right?” you give him one last pat on his back before you pull away your hand. He kind of misses (really misses) your warmth, but he doesn’t dwell on it as he nods.

“Just two more. I hope you’ll stick it out until we’re done.”

Your eyes crinkle at the sides as you smile. “I definitely will.”

He isn’t going to admit it anytime soon, but that smile brings him more comfort than you realize.

---

The fourth time Arven falls in love with you, it’s because of how much your encouragement spurs him to continue forward. The fourth titan is down for the count, and Arven can’t believe it. 

“Yes!” Arven cheers, looking at you with a bright grin.

You smile back at him, giving him a high five, before dusting off your shoulders. “What even was that thing?” you mutter. “It looked vaguely like a donphan.”

“That was definitely not a donphan,” Arven responds, scrunching his nose at the sand in his socks. “I don’t even think it was a Pokémon.”

“But then what is it?” you murmur, humming in thought. 

Arven thinks with you, his bottom lip jutting out slightly in thought. “I kinda feel like I’ve seen it before…” 

You peer at him curiously, before motioning him to lean down. Arven blinks at you, confused, but obliges. “We’re always in such a state after these battles,” you huff, amused, as your hands go to remove the sand in his hair. Arven can only stand still, words stuck in his throat as you gently weave your fingers through his hair. He can feel heat radiate off of his cheeks as his eyes flicker around aimlessly, trying to find something to look at. He feels like an eternity has passed when you remove your hands, a proud look on your face. “There. I got most of the big chunks out.”

“I–” he clears his dry throat, “Thanks. Do you, uh, want me…?”

You blink at him curiously, before you laugh. “I think my hat thankfully protected my hair from the worst of it. I don’t always wear it, but I’m glad I wore it today.”

Oh Arceus, he was so dumb. Arven wanted to crawl into the sand and never emerge again.

“Could you make me a sandwich, though? Please?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, feeling warmed at your inquiry. You’re so sweet that he doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

The cave is, like always, dark when you and Arven enter it. For some reason, Arven pays a little more attention to you, trying to make sure you don’t slip or trip over your feet.

“Oh, the herb!” you say, making Arven finally turn his head and look at the herb growing in the distance.

“It looks like it’ll taste horrible,” Arven laughs, “which means it’s gotta be good for you!”

“I don’t know about that,” you respond, smiling, “but I’m sure you’ll be able to turn this into something tasty, at least.”

“You bet.” Arven rolls up his sleeves. “No time to waste – I’ll get some food going!”

Areven’s deft hands traverse across the picnic table as he sets up the ingredients to make a sandwich. There’s a giddiness behind his movements now as he anticipates your reaction, as well as Mabosstiff's increasing health. He can feel that he’s so, so close to his goal that he can taste it – and it’s all thanks to you. His heart fills with something he can’t really seem to describe whenever he thinks of you – whenever he’s with you. Sometimes he feels like the gratitude he has towards you will overflow, making him do something terribly stupid.

“Okay, sorry for the wait! Here’s the sandwich with a nice helping of Titan Badge! Gaze upon it in awe as you eat.”

“I am in awe,” you respond, taking both things from him gratefully. As your Pokémon comes out, Arven lets Mabosstiff out of its Poké Ball too. The sight of Mabosstiff’s eyes makes Arven smile.

“Seems like someone’s got a proper appetite now!” he glances at your Pokémon, watching it gobble up its food. “And that fellow’s also slowly regaining its original strength. Still… doesn’t look like it’s anywhere close to returning to its battle form. It seems healthy enough physically… But maybe it’s got a mental block?”

You frown at him, which makes Arven’s heart drop.

“A mental block?” you murmur, gently petting your Pokémon. It nuzzles into your hand as you do so.

“I, uh, I’ve read about it before. A mental scar – like psychological trauma.” As your frown deepens, Arven wishes he could just shut up. “Maybe it had a terrifying experience in battle and, uh, doesn’t really like to now? Like it’s too scared to fight.”

Your frown remains on your face as you continue to stroke your Pokémon’s head. Arven swallows, before clearing his throat.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Arven says, quickly, noticing the worry in your tone. He really didn’t want to damper your mood – that wasn’t the intent of his words. So, seeing you crestfallen at the potential trauma your Pokémon faced makes his heart, well, drop. “I’m sure both the brute – uh, that is, your buddy – and Mabosstiff will both make a full recovery eventually!”

“Yeah,” you murmur, giving him a nod. You give him a small smile as if to appease him, but it does little to soothe the guilt in Arven’s heart.

“Well, Mabosstiff?” he says, turning his attention away from you. “How’s that Herba Mystica working?”

Mabosstiff only tiredly huffs in response, his breathing slow and steady. He lets out a little whine in apology, but it’s quiet and breathy.

“Uh, no pressure!” Arven exclaims, wanting to backtrack completely. He feels like he’s messed up twice now and he’s starting to panic a little. “It’s not like it’s fair to expect every kind of Herba Mystica to have some kind of huge effect, right? And it’s not like the result has to be immediate, either.” Arven gently ruffles Mabosstiff’s fur, holding in a sigh. “Okay, rest up now, buddy.” Ruffling Mabosstiff’s fur one last time, Arven withdraws Mabosstiff back into its Poké Ball. As soon as Mabosstiff is back in its Poké Ball, Arven heaves out a sigh.

Everything had started out so great, but now, it feels like he’s made mistake after mistake. Not to mention the fact that Mabosstiff didn’t have any huge changes this time around. And he’s made you all sad because your Pokémon might be traumatized. Arven groans, ruffling his hair in aggravation. He just keeps messing up.

What if he keeps messing up? What if Mabosstiff never recovers? What if you see that your efforts were for nothing and then leave him? What if–

“Arven, we have one more left,” your voice cuts in, making Arven turn to you slowly in confusion. You meet his gaze with a smile, your Pokémon curled up by your feet, dozing off. “We'll get the last one and Mabosstiff will be as right as rain, you’ll see. We’ve got this.”

He blinks at you. “Uh– yeah.” Arven’s eyes search your face for any signs of anger or frustration, but there are none. Just kindness and determination. “Yeah.”

Your smile is so bright that it actually melts away his worries this time. You aren’t mad at him, and you aren’t disappointed, either. He can see that now.

Arven smiles. He’s not sure why, but your words bring him a lot of comfort. Since you said it’ll work out, he really believes that it will. He believes you because you seem to believe in him.

It makes his heart feel warm.

---

The fifth time Arven falls in love, it’s because he realizes that his happiness is multiplied beyond words when you’re with him. 

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” you ask, eyes glimmering as you look at Casseroya Lake.

“Yeah,” he responds, looking at how your smile widens at the sight of the blue lake before you.

“So the last Titan Pokémon – the False Dragon – is here, right?” you ask, tilting your head back to look at him. “It’s kinda bizarre to think about, you know. It’s so peaceful here.”

“Yeah, and not a single person’s caught of glimpse of it,” Arven mutters, eyes drifting across the quiet lake water. “It must be some kinda truly terrifying beast… But how are we supposed to search for a thing when we don’t even know what it looks like?”

“Surely it’ll do the kind thing and yell something like, ‘Grah! I’m the Titan!’” you joke, curling your fingers to look like claws, making Arven huff out a laugh.

“If only, right?” Arven’s thoughts are momentarily shaken when you start sprinting away from him. “Wha– hey! Where’re you going?!”

“I saw it!” is the last thing he hears before you surf away on your Pokémon.

Arven can only stand there, shell-shocked, before he runs after you, sending out his Cloyster.

When he catches up to you, he sees you confronting a huge Pokémon, a Poké Ball readied in your grasp. “Did you find the Titan?!” Arven asks, looking at the Dondozo. “So that’s it?! Sure is one big… uh… dragon?” His eyebrows furrow, expressing his confusion. “Wait, is that even a dragon? Or is it a fish?!”

“Well, it’s called the False Dragon Titan for a reason, right? So…” your eyebrows also furrow in confusion. “...If we beat it, I’m sure our questions will be answered.”

“That’s true– whoa!” Arven’s eyes widen. “Th–the little sushi guy got eaten up! Yeesh! Didn’t expect to see the food chain in action today!”

“And now we gotta step it up so we don’t end up a part of the food chain!” you respond, calling out your Pokémon.

“Right!” Arven agrees, sending out his Greedent.

“W–We did it!” Arven cheers once Dondozo goes down. “We–”

“Not yet!” you respond as Tatsugiri jumps out of Dondozo’s mouth and costumes some Herba Mystica. “Let’s go, Arven!”

“Uh…! Right!” 

Somehow, he always finds himself following your pace.

“Phew… Nice job!” Arven pats you on the back once the Tatsugiri also goes down. “Maybe the Titan was both those Pokémon together? Like some kinda combo meal.”

You laugh brightly at Arven’s words, making his heart warm. “Well, we're kinda a combo meal too, then, huh? A better one, of course.”

Arven ignores how hot his face feels, chalking it up to the battle you two just finished. “Okay! I’m pretty sure that Tatsugiri came out of there. Let’s go?”

You nod, following Arven as he enters the dark cave. Instinctively, you grab onto Arven’s vest, making his heart warm.

“That must be it!” Arven exclaims once he sees the red herb. You both run up to it, happy that your search is successful. “Let’s see what the book has to say… So it seems that the Spicy Herba Mystica is supposed to boost your metabolism! It gives your circulation a boost and helps flush out all those toxins!”

“Wow, it sounds intense!” you laugh, before patting Arven’s arm. “Sounds like something that’ll definitely pep someone up.”

“Yeah,” Arven says. If he were alone, he’s sure that he’d be more fearful than hopeful, scared that all his efforts were for nothing, but you’re here and that’s enough to reassure him. Inhaling deeply, he picks the herb up, giving you the brightest grin he can muster. “Just wait right there – I’ll whip something up real quick.”

“Waiting!” you reply, brightly.

Arven begins his cooking again, eyes intensified on the task in front of him. Before he can get too much further, however, you call for him. He turns around, looking at you quizzically as you approach him.

“Your hair’s gotten longer since we’ve started collecting Herba Mystica.”

Arven pauses, contemplative. He has noticed that his hair has been getting in the way more recently, but he was too busy to really think about it.

“Can I tie your hair back?”

“Huh?” Arven swears his heart stops, his cheeks heating up. He swears you’re gonna kill him one day. 

“Since your hands are busy,” you supplement, pulling out a cute hair tie with a Skwovet on it. “...Well, actually, it’s because I saw this and thought of you.”

You thought of him? You bought something because you thought of him? Arceus – he’s not sure when someone last bought him something – or even thought to, really.

“Arven?” you call.

“Yeah,” he responds, snapping out of his thoughts. “Ah, yeah.” He blinks rapidly, feeling his eyes grow wet with tears. It’s the onions, he tries to convince himself, but he’s not really sure if he can lie about it this time. He turns his back to you, barely choking out, “Go for it.” There’s a wobble in his voice that he hopes you didn’t hear.

Gingerly, at his permission, you take his hair into your grasp, threading your fingers through it. Arven busies himself with cooking, unsure of what to do with himself. The gentle movement of your fingers makes his heart beat erratically, but it somehow soothes him, too. He’s really not sure what to do.

 “There,” you say, finally, patting his back as your hands draw away from his hair.

He kind of misses your warmth, but he’s not going to admit that outloud. Instead, he mumbles a quiet thank you that he’s not sure you heard.

“No problem,” you hum, peering over his side to watch him work.

He suddenly feels shy under your gaze, even though you’ve watched him cook so many times. It takes all of his brain power to solely focus on cooking because he doesn’t want to mess up and lose you.

“Wow, that looks delicious!”

“Then it’s good that I made enough for you,” he responds, making you laugh. Arceus, he really likes your laugh.

“Thanks, Arven,” you say, taking the two sandwiches he’s offering you.

I should be thanking you, Arven thinks, but nods and says that it’s not a problem. He watches as you give your partner its sandwich, bright grin on your face as your partner gobbles it food in a flash. Arven watches as you eat yours, delight racing across your face as you savor each bite. Just seeing your reaction makes Arven think that he wouldn’t mind cooking for you every day.

“It’s delicious!” you say, making him puff his chest out in pride.

“Of course it is!” he exclaims, feeling your words simmer in his heart and give him courage. He inhales, pulling our Mabosstiff’s Poké Ball. “I guess it’s your turn, now…” he murmurs, releasing Mabosstiff. “Come on, bud. Eat up. It’s gonna make you all better, I promise,” Arven says, breaking up the sandwich and offering it to his partner. He waits for Mabosstiff to eat patiently. “We’re gonna play with your favorite ball as much as you want, y’know? Just like we used to.”

Mabosstiff silently eats out of Arven’s hands. It makes Arven’s heart throb.

“Please… get better. That’s all I want, really…” Arven’s voice is so quiet that he’s not sure if he’s said or thought his words. Still, he waits in anticipation as Mabosstiff finishes the last bite of his sandwich.

Arven waits.

And waits.

And waits.

“...Mabosstiff,” Arven finally says, voice cracking. He gently pats Mabosstiff’s fur, feeling his eyes grow wet with tears. “You did your best, bud…” With a sharp inhale, Arven stands, turning his back to you. He’s not sure what to do. You worked so hard for him. Mabosstiff worked so hard for him. And yet… it didn’t work. It didn’t work, of course it didn’t. But what else can he do now? Arven’s not sure. There’s a myriad of thoughts bustling in his head, becoming a murky black as he contemplates what to do next. He knows he has to keep trying, but–

Bark!

Arven’s eyes widen as he quickly whips around, teal eyes landing on Mabosstiff struggling to its feet. Though a little slow, Mabosstiff limps to the Poké Ball that rolled off the table, picking it up in its mouth and walking to Arven. The relief, the gratitude, the hope – all of it makes Arven fall to his knees as he clambers towards Mabosstiff to meet halfway. Mabosstiff lets out another energetic bark that makes Arven want to cry. “Bud, I know! Me, too!” he exclaims, hugging Mabosstiff close. He feels the soft warmth of Mabosstiff’s fur, the gentle beat of Mabosstiff’s heart, and Arven, for the first time in forever, knows that Mabosstiff will be just fine.

And Arven can’t be more grateful to you – you, who decided to help him, a stranger. You, who decided to help him despite there being no evidence of these Herba Mysticas existing. You, who has supported him through this entire journey–

“Thank you,” he finally says, looking at you. He knows his eyes are red, he knows he probably looks like a mess, but he really can’t bring himself to care – not when Mabosstiff’s better. Not when you’ve helped him so much.

“Don’t mention it, really,” you say, eyes so kind that he wishes he could hold your gaze forever. “I’m so glad Mabosstiff’s better.”

“Yeah,” he responds, feeling elated that he can share this moment with you. He continues to hug Mabosstiff close, whose tail has been wagging rapidly. The pulse thrumming through Mabosstiff’s body makes another shot of happiness move through Arven’s veins. “Yeah.”

Arven wonders if it’s all right to be this happy, but he decides that it’s okay to bask in it for now.

After all, what else can he feel when both Mabosstiff and you were by his side?

---

The moment Arven realizes he’s in love with you, it’s because he realizes that it’s because he can’t imagine life without you.

His mood had considerably soured when his parent had called you, especially since his parent wanted something from you. Bitterness rose to Arven’s throat, leaking into his words as his parent requested your help. He’d honestly rather you never interact with the professor that abandoned him. Still, you agree to help the professor and though Arven doesn’t want to be treated like an errand boy, he knows he owes you one.

Well, he owes you a lot, actually, which is why he helped you through the professor’s crazy request. He wants to be a pillar of support to you, like you were to him. So, he stood by you as you went to Area Zero.

But now that everything is solved, technically, he wonders if he should’ve gone with you at all.

Finding out that his parent had died years ago – he’s not sure what he’s supposed to feel. Sad? Angry? Frustrated? Scared?

Arven inhales, looking at the starry expanse above him. Somehow, despite the cloudiness in his heart, the stars shine bright as always. Somehow, despite the heaviness in his heart, he ends up drawing your visage in the constellations. You, who shines brighter than the stars, slumbering inside the tent next to Nemona and Penny. You, who braved the dangers of Area Zero. You. He wishes he can see you.

“Arven?” you call, and Arven wonders how he’s able to wish your presence into existence.

“Did I wake you?” he asks, hearing the yawn in your voice.

“No, I just…” you pause, “...I just couldn’t sleep.” Slowly, you make your way over to him. “Can I sit with you?”

“‘Course,” he replies, heart leaping in his throat when you sit closer to him than he expected. His emotions begin to jumble further into some odd emotion stew as you two sit in silence. The stars. The professor. Mabosstiff. You. Everything.

“Are you okay?” you ask, finally breaking the silence.

Arven doesn't know the answer to that. “Are you?”

You’re silent, before you breathe in deeply. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah.” Arven looks at you – you, who’s always been so brave and strong, and he sees. He sees the eyebags on your face. He sees the way your shoulders slump. He sees and he understands.

“...Thanks, Arven.”

“What?” The gratitude you express takes him by surprise, which you see when you turn your attention to him and meet his eyes.

“For coming with me. And helping me get Penny and Nemona on board. And… well, helping me adjust to Paldea. Traveling with you helped a lot, you know.” You inhale deeply, before your head seems to naturally rest on Arven’s shoulder, making him freeze. “I just… I don’t think I could’ve been down there by myself. So, yeah. Thank you.”

Arven’s not sure what to say. He’s still processing everything and if anything, he really should be thanking you. You, who helped him heal Mabosstiff. You, who let him vent about his parent. You, who reassured him the entire time in Area Zero. You, who’s still here, by his side, thanking him. You.

“I think I’m in love with you.” It dawns on Arven that he’s a mess of emotions and probably shouldn’t be talking. In fact, he probably should shut up now since you’ve removed your head from his shoulder, opting to look at him with wide eyes, but he can’t. “You’ve always been there for me. You didn’t have to, but you’ve been there. And you’re still here.” He inhales. Can you see how much he wants to hold you close? “Seriously, I should be thanking you.”

“Arven…”

Arven’s words finally catch up to his brain, making his cheeks flush. “Arceus, sorry.” He deflects his gaze from you. “I’m just– I’m a mess. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, softly, placing your hand on his cheek to turn his face to you. “It’s been a long journey, y’know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t a mess. I mean, remember what the sand did to us that one time when we beat the fourth Titan? Or the mud bath we had because of the third Titan?”

Despite his embarrassment, he can’t help but snort in laughter, which makes you smile.

“Arven,” your thumb brushes against his cheek, feeling the warmth radiating off of him, “Don’t ever apologize for expressing yourself, okay? I want you to talk to me if you need to. I’ll be here – I’ll always be here for you.”

Arceus, how could he have ever avoided falling for you? Everything you’ve done for him, everything he observes, it all builds and builds and builds until he feels like his love for you is reaching beyond the skies.

“And… maybe this isn’t the best time for this, but…” you gaze flickers to the ground, bashful, “I like you too.”

Arven blinks. Once. Twice. “Oh.”

Your lips quirk upward, your gaze shy. “Do you think you’d be okay if I stayed by your side?”

“Would you be okay with that?” Arven says, grabbing your hand. “Would… Me? You’d be okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Arven wonders if he’s dreaming. He’s been constantly abandoned that he never thought that someone would willingly want to be with him. But here you are – here you always are. He can feel his eyes well up, and you let out a small laugh at that.

“I feel like I keep making you cry.”

He laughs for the first time since you had gotten the call from the professor. “I don’t think I’ve cried this much since I was five.”

“Sorry, I guess I’m just a heartbreaker.”

He snorts, mirth dancing on his face, despite the unshed tears.

“But don’t worry, I’d never break your heart.”

“You’re killin’ me, here,” Arven wheezes, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.

You respond by drawing him into a hug, laughter tickling his ear. Despite him being bigger than you, somehow you make him feel safe in his arms. He wraps his arms around you, eyes closing as he holds you close. He’s not sure when it started, or when it’ll end, really, but he feels the overwhelming emotions he’s feeling slowly leave him. He can’t fully comprehend what he’s feeling, still trying to balance the grief, the shock, the relief. Maybe he won't ever know what he's feeling. But when he feels you bury your face into his chest, wet tears decorating his shirt, he thinks it’s okay that he doesn’t fully know what he’s feeling.

He doesn’t know when he’ll be fine, maybe he won’t be fine for a while. But with you in his arms, by his side, he thinks he’ll be okay.

And he’ll do everything to make sure you’ll be okay, too.

[wakeup01]

From Behind

(A horror themed butt growth story.)

Why do you keep doing this to yourself? It’s like you set yourself up for disaster. You are travelling home alone from a rather productive session at the gym. That is the good news, the bad news is you have just entered what is known as a run down area of town affectionately referred to as ‘The Crack’, everyone tends to avoid it if possible. There have been recent reports of missing people in the area too, but no one is very surprised, or seems to care. But today you were in a rush and despite your reservations, this was the quickest route back. At least, in theory.

Passing down a street of derelict warehouses you notice a side passage that appeared to lead down an alleyway. That was odd. You’ve been down here before, but had never noticed this back-alley before. Paths don’t tend to spring up out of thin air. You try and calculate where it should lead and come to the conclusion that it would let you save some time, maybe? Look, it’s extremely unlikely anything bad could happen within the minute it would take to make it through to the other side. Yes, that is what everyone says before things go horribly wrong but that was absolutely, definitely not going to happen here.

You step into a puddle that splashes an unidentifiable liquid up your bare leg. Mental note: never wear shorts in ‘The Crack’ again. Trash was piled up high on either side, it was obvious these buildings didn’t get a huge amount of use anymore. You always thought horror movies had done a real disservice to alleyways, but this one certainly wouldn’t be changing anyones mind. In the distance you see the silhouette of someone standing in the middle of the alley. From their stature it seems to be man, but something about them throws you off. You feel a pang of trepidation, a chill runs down your back. It’s only just occurred to you how deafly quiet the passage is, the sounds of the street feel like miles away. You turn around and the uneven pavement seems to impossibly stretch away from your feet. You hear a dull droning, fizzling just within your hearing range. Looking back and the man appears closer than before, you swear he hasn’t moved and yet…

“Uh hello?” You call out, to no response. Strange. But then, you see it. The most beautiful sight your eyes have been graced with. His butt.

Butt.

His grey joggers are having a hard time trying to contain what he’s packing, not that you’re complaining. It’s bigger than what you thought possible, it’s captivating. And now you’re just staring. Staring at another dudes gigantic butt in the middle of an alley, try not to overthink it. You see it jiggle just slightly and your eyes follow it’s repetitive movement hypnotically. What doesn’t occur to you is how your body is starting to….adjust. There’s a barely perceptible malicious force entering your form, you welcomed it in the second you laid eyes on the perfectly sculpted ass. Not a wholly bad trade off.

It wastes no time in making itself at home. Assessing the prey that wandered into it’s lair, before going to work on you.

The energy is gathering in your nethers, passing down your head and pulling through your torso. It seems to be taking something with it as your rear begins to heat up. You feel a light throb. It starts slow but soon increases in intensity. Your modest stature is being ‘enhanced’, your average ass cheeks piling on pounds as the rest of your body flattens out. Muscle and tissue is consumed, just food to bolster your hindquarters. All your body fat melts away until you have a tight slim chest. Your arms thinning out into effeminate twigs, hands slender. And through it all you continue to watch the rotund cheeks in front of you, not daring to take your eyes off them. Wouldn’t it be nice to have that too? Any sacrifice would be worth it, no? You want that, that -

Butt.

The thin polyester fabric of your shorts is pulled taut across your enlarging rear. Straining as it struggles to cage the hungry beast within it’s confines. Today was perhaps not the best day to decide on going without underwear. But lets be honest, underwear isn’t going to have much prominence in your future.

With your body adequately slimmed down, the insatiable parasitic-like force begins to target any identifying features you have left. It focuses on your head, a couple of twitches and it’s done. Nose itches, eyes water. It leaves your face with an uncanny quality, like it was unsettlingly sent though a algorithmic generator. It’s you, but an eerie idealised version of you. Plasticised perfection. Your skin is now unnaturally even, without a single speck or blemish. Anything that could distract from your main asset is smoothed clean. Absorbed by the mound of flesh expanding in your pants. There’s only one thing people should be paying attention to. That’s quickly becoming less of an issue. The inevitable missing poster they put up will only vaguely resemble you.

“Guh.” You hear yourself pant.

The low droning of the alleyway grows more prominent, pulsing rhythmically, akin to the low bass of a dance track. Your buttocks instinctually vibrate to the beat.

It’s increasingly hard to ignore the obvious changes happening to you. Your rotund behind is becoming so heavy. And while, yes, it is slightly concerning - can the issue wait just a little bit longer? You’ll deal with it later, after fully grasping the scope of this dude’s bountiful booty. For a second you wonder what the mans face looks like but then you think better of it. His face isn’t important, in the same way that yours isn’t.

You shift your feet apart, trying to balance out your rear heavy centre of gravity. The slight movement sends your round cheeks wobbling comically like a bowl of jelly. They bounce together, creating a wet slapping sound in your tight shorts. Your lower half is at risk of putting fuck toys out of business.

You’ve never had the word ‘butt’ enter your mind with such frequency in your entire life, it begins to loose all meaning. A collection of random letters.

Butt.

Are you perhaps forgetting something? That 4 letter word isn’t about to share a space with that bump between your legs. At some point you may have believed your cock was of some importance. All those times it had made you feel good, where for a second your concerns would fade from view. But things change. You are changing. Sometimes you have no choice but to embrace it. You start to feel a light tugging at your crotch. It’s slightly uncomfortable but there’s a pleasant tingle too. You reach down and feel it’s length diminish within your hand, sucked up like a vacuum by your ever thickening arse. It doesn’t stop until a mere nub protrudes from your groin. It dribbles the smallest amount of pre down your leg and spreads across the cracked concrete of the alley. No amount of stimulation is going to produce much down there. Your pleasure centre realigns a little further back. A deep itch that requires constant attention. A cock is something that other people have, you instead have an open socket for them to plug into.

Your shapely bum must almost rival that of the one your eyes are glued to. Not much further to go. Other people will stare at yours in the same way. You didn’t know you were so jealous of it but who wouldn’t want THAT?

You’re not sure how long you’ve been watching his rear end, or how long you plan to continue doing so. No better ideas come to mind right now. That might be because with your body and cock sucked dry, your brain is the next best source of fuel. So much useless power being used up there, where it can serve a much better purpose. It’s like a battery being drained, squeezed right into your juicy fat ass. Churned away just to add another inch of thickness.

You don’t think you really want this to happen, maybe you’re big enough back there? But what you want and what it wants are two very different things. Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t appear to be up for debate.

If you round up all those little idiosyncrasies of your personality, you might even squeeze another few millimetres into your hips. There’s only one thing around here with much substance anymore, and it certainly isn’t your brain. You can admit it, not much of value has been lost. It’s not like you were getting around to solving world hunger. At least now you have the opportunity to solve a different kind of hunger.

Your thoughts provided a decent amount of sustenance as they were sucked out of your brain through a figurative straw. You feel the benefit push out. Your hips flaring out instantaneously while your globes inflate to the size of footballs. With your brain emptied out of anything complex, thoughts and instructions to your body start to arrive from the new master of the domain. Neurones rewired, your butt was now command central, your head was just the go between, mostly irrelevant. Simple instructions and desires like ‘bend’, ‘twerk’ and ‘facesit’ overwhelm you. But -butt- right now the main one was ‘stare’; you weren’t done yet after all.

Your cheeks moisten as they rub together, their new sensitivity firing bolts up your spine. Your shorts grow damp as the leaking fluid soaks into the polyester and clings tightly to your skin. It only helps to make your arse seem bigger, the fabric bunching up between your crack, creating a noticeable crease down the centre that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Once again you feel your ass throb and shudder, each jiggle pushing it just a little bit further from your body. Just when you think you couldn’t get any bigger back there, it keeps going, inflating to cartoonish proportions. Sticking out like a depraved shelf. Your waist thins out and your hips expand to accommodate your new form. Women would be jealous of what you’re packing, and men will be queuing up to test it’s suspension.

It’s okay to smile. Happy people smile. Aren’t you happy? You must be, everything else in your head was consumed. The entity did you a favour in that regard. Think of the words ‘bouncing booty’. Go on, give it a try.

Your lip quivers in a last ditch effort of restraint. Don’t let ‘it’ win. The defiance is vaguely amusing in a pitiful way but your face muscles start to give way. Your mouth stretches wide into a broad, earnest grin. The most sincere display of joy you’ve ever shown, who cares if it makes you look ‘dumb’? It doesn’t bother you at all that people can take one look at you and accurately guess, that not a single word of value will exit your mouth. Dumb people are happy. Why worry? You had different priorities now. You can feel safe knowing that your most prominent feature is taking the lead, that it knows what’s best for you. Give it the keys and good things are bound to happen.

See, and doesn’t smiling feel good? Doesn’t it feel right to smile as your hole is used like a cum receptacle? Or when your cheeks are surrounding a mans face? People don’t want to see their toy sad.

A lone giggle falls out between your pursed lips.

You reach back around and place your hands on your two buttocks, your palm is dwarfed in size. It no longer stretches across its surface. Like palming a basketball. You can feel it push against your fingers with immense pressure as it expands within your grasp. Just another centimetre, and another. It’s curvature widens, expanding out from your hips. You press your finger into the skin and rub. The surface is completely smooth and the texture has a slight friction to it, creating a light satisfying sqk. No one for a second will believe that it’s real, it’s obvious fake-ness is by design. Authenticity is so overrated, nothing real would bounce so tightly back to position, would shine so brightly in the light. Would be able to withstand so much pounding… People don’t actually want real, they want a fetish image come to life, they want no maintenance, no downsides. They want someone to just nod and agree while they fuck them without concern; they want a rubber butt like yours. You’re not about to question it, and neither will anyone else.

They won’t question it while they undress you, or while they find relief inside of you, or even when their own butt begins to expand. And still, when they are reduced to just another butt boy, they won’t question it.

Butt.

That’s right, you’re a carrier. You have been entrusted with a important task, to leave a string of giant asses in your wake. You need to spread it, like a computer virus. Once they ‘plug in’ there’s no going back. Whoever they were, they’ll all end up the same.

You are finished. Your glutes tighten into place. And your hole opens for frequent visitors. Stretching wide as if it had just been treated to a rigorous fuck machine session. You’re just a butt with a body attached. It’s how you view yourself, above all is tending to the needs of your ever hungry rear. The rest of your body is just a mode of transport, a means to an end. A rear end.

It feels like you’ve stood here for hours, but in reality it’s been no more than a minute. A minute was all it took for you to be repurposed as a literal butt boy. A mere sixty seconds for all your thoughts to be hollowed out; maybe you weren’t as smart as you thought, or maybe you secretly wanted this all along. Either way your head is now just a pretty picture to smile at before spinning you around.

The space in your head is about as empty as the hole between your pillowy cheeks, although only one has any hope of being filled up.

“Butt!” You hear yourself blurt out, like a child saying a naughty word. The sound echos down the dank alley.

Suddenly the butt opposite you turns away, his legs moving him towards you. A wordless instruction reaches your body to kneel and so you do, obediently. He turns back away, his beautiful ass only a few inches apart from your face. His joggers lower and his prize springs forth from it’s prison. He slowly backs his cheeks into your face until they eclipse your entire view. He continues until your head is pushed between his round globes with a blomf, encasing you, muffling the sound in your ears. There’s a mild tingle across your forehead/face.

You feel the pressure push against your sides. It makes sure your head is an appropriately vacuous vessel, squeezing out anything left. That little remnant that didn’t want to be butt brained drips away in no time, turned to drool and absorbed into the guys ass crack. This would be good for you; You needed to be made perfect, so you let the butt finish it’s work. A new set of instructions flow into you, into your ass. You feel your consciousness connect to the butt burying your face, assimilating and adding you as one of it’s own, making you part of something bigger. One of many.

The pressure on your head leaves your emptied mind subservient to the mass of tissue straining under you. It gives you a new identity.

I gave you a new identity.

BUTT BOY.

And you’re now ready for service. Butt. Boy. Ready to spread joy. To put it in the nicest way possible, you have a butt for a brain. It has been given full control, and it has one singular goal. You need to make more Butt Boys. It is that simple. It’s not a desire, it’s just something you have to do.

The cheeks spread open again and are unseated from your encased head, your broad smile still unflinching.

Something else is different though. A cold breeze brushes over your forehead. The hair on your head is nothing but a light dusting of what was there before, at most 1mm in length. It was one less thing to worry about, and one less thing to identify you with. It’s unsettling how much of your personality seemed to be stripped with it gone. The buzzed look certainly makes you appear more anonymous. Like a default custom character in a video game. Nothing made you stand out… well, aside from the obvious.

The ass in front of you is satisfied with your ‘adjustment’ and leads it’s body from the spot it once stood so patiently in. You continue to stare as the buttocks juggle erratically in the grey joggers as they leave the alleyway.

Your feet begin to move of their own volition. Movement is awkward, each step your balance is pulling you backward. You’re like a dumptruck trying to make a tight turn.

You are left in silence, aside from the clapping of your bouncy cheeks as you stumble forward to replace the previous occupant. You stand in the exact same spot, thighs pushed together, back straight. Now it is your turn to wait - like an animal for it’s prey, knowing that you cannot leave until you have passed on the gift to another man; ensuring that the cycle continues. The idea of causing someone else to go through the same process fills you with such pride.

It’s unclear how long you stand there, time in the alley doesn’t appear to operate within normal parameters. Like a crack in the world. You see your shadow projected onto a nearby wall, a straight line interrupted by an obscene vibrating speed bump. Doorframes could be your new biggest enemy.

You were desperate to see your reflection, from behind obviously. Most people take selfies of their face, the subject of your attention would be much further down.

You hear a voice echo from behind.

“Excuse me sir.”

One week later:

“Man, how much work did you have done on this, femboy? Unff. You make even my girlfriend look flat.” A towering voice booms down at you.

You’d picked up the jock in a club. He was relatively easy, it didn’t take much to end up back at his place. You stared at him with that horny, open mouthed duck face. But he wasn’t interested in what you had going on up there. It was remarkable how little men cared about how flagrantly airheaded you were once you flash your rear at them. It didn’t matter how ‘plastic’ or fake you so obviously were. The eye see’s what it wants.

He was clearly in the mood to let off steam, and one look of what you had on offer was all it took. You didn’t even need to say anything, which was good, as words were so hard to get right. For tonight, you were his; a light tap of your butt and he owned your body. A breathy ‘mhm’ confirming your obedience to him and his sizeable bulge. Your ass begins to moisten in preparation - it wanted him, in more ways than one.

He had told you his name, but you already forgot it; he soon would too. ‘Jocky’ was good enough for now.

Jocky was obnoxious in all the right ways, wearing his masculinity on his sleeve. That type made for the best, most severe adjustment.

“Love the buzzcut by the way femmy. Yeah…mhm. Very basic, it suits you.” He rubs a hand over the top of your head before running his fingers through his curly hair. It was a good thing he already liked the look.

*plap plap*

The strong man’s 7 inch cock thrusts in and out of your well used hole, pulling between your lubricated cheeks. Your buttocks squished against his member tightly, every bump rubbing across your hypersensitive skin. You were so hungry. He wasn’t the longest but he definitely had thickness on his side. You pant heavily as he has his way with you. Bent over his bed, facing away from him at a wall. He wasn’t as good at this as he thought, you would know, but it wouldn’t matter for long.

“Mmf. You’re a quiet one. Ah… I- I like that in a bottom. Makes a nice change from…hff. Always whining. Know your place. Fuck.” He continues to drunkenly rant into your ear. His deep, self-aggrandising voice quickly grating on you.

“Uuh. Take it all dumb slut.” You let him have his petty insults, it seemed to make him feel bigger, more in control. Evidently, he was obviously very self obsessed, dumb as you may be, even you could tell that much. The constant glances at his own muscles were enough of a giveaway. Eh. You’d seen better; the change will be a improvement.

He speeds up, sending shockwaves up your body and making your butt bounce enthusiastically.

“H…hey it’s real hot in here.” His voice shakes. “Umf. Maybe we should stop?” He puts his hand on your hip in an attempt to steady himself as he continues pumping you. You begin to push back into him, his dick pushing all the way in.

“Wh… what the fuck. My ass feels…mmm.” He groans loudly. You know how it feels. You can hear them rubbing together already.

His grip on your back weakens, the weight crashing into you softens. His body is like a deflating balloon, his diminishing height bringing him closer to the floor. The girth inside of you shrinks.

“Ahh. So heavy…damn. My-“

“Butt.” You tell him. A slight hint of boredom in your tone.

“Oh god, why does my head… so hard to think.” Right on cue, his smarts were being cleared out, in preparation for his ass to take over thinking duties. This part was your favourite; it wasn’t fair he had all that stuff while you felt so…blank. “Feels so good. Unnf.” It was too late for him to stop it, he’d soon be very happy. Happy, eager and ready to comply. “Shouldn’t though…” You take the lead, rocking back and forth along what’s left of his dwindling shaft. Your buttocks slap against his tightened chest.

*plap plap*

“Bouncy…hehe.” He laughs dimly. You can’t help but echo his giggle, it WAS a funny word. One of your favourites - top 5 at least, right after ‘jiggle’.

“Don’t wanna…fuck…b…but I can’t…but…but.” He stutters, like a scratched record.

“B…bu…Butt. Buuuutt.” His voice moans in realisation, mumbling the word over and over to himself. He shudders, squirting inside of you. It’s okay. It’s never enough to satisfy you.

His tiny cock slips out of your hole, dragging a small string of cum across your sensitive rear. That familiar feeling of emptiness sets back in. You get out from under him and assess your work. Turning to face him, you’re greeted by his broad smile and blank, lust-filled stare. His jockish face and body now heavily twinkified; those boorish muscles, gone. His cocky attitude, subdued. The bed creaks. You check on his oversized ass splayed beneath him, a rather drastic change from his previously flat posterior. Looking even more ridiculous with his shortened stature. The slight rubbery sheen was the cherry on top. Those plastic beach balls were made to twerk and put on a show. A vast improvement, he seems pleased by it too. His left hand is loosely fondling his new selling point.

“O…ohh.” A surprised squeak slips out from his mouth. It’s always a shock when they see where everything has gone.

You’re pretty sure he didn’t have much experience back there, if any at all. He’ll soon get the hang of it.

You know what comes next, what’s required of you - it’s instinctual at this point. You push him onto the bed and position yourself on top of him. You gradually begin to lower your huge rear over his head. You sit snugly down on his blushing face, shifting your weight a bit to get into a comfortable position. His gelled hair tickles against your skin, until it doesn’t…

He’ll make a cute Butt Boy.