Idk why I keep thinking about this so much but I keep imagining a Pokemon Legends ZA fic where the reader gets attacked and put in the hospital. Mainly because the more I learn about the cast, the more I feel like they would all basically throw hands with whoever did it. At least if the reader is their partner. They are all feral Frenchmen and I love that.
I mean Corbeau would legit be out for blood. Not only would he have the resources to kill a bitch, running an entire crime syndicate and all, but this man might be 3 apples tall but you cannot convince me that he wouldn't absolutely pummel someone for his s/o. His partner would probably have to pull him off of them so he doesn't have to deal with the paperwork of covering up a murder. Also Philippe, for as stern and supportive as he is to the player, would absolutely break that attacker too. He's still a part of the Rust Syndicate and definitely has the brawn to do it, just look at him. 👀
Griselle would also need to be held back lol. She’s got a hot temper on a good day, so if someone actually hurt her s/o? Enough to hospitalize them?? Ohhhh she would absolutely wreck that mf the first chance she got. Grisham might be more of a quiet rage, but it’s still rage nonetheless. He’d probably get this really dark intimidating look and you would be able to tell how pissed off he is from the way he talks alone. He’d be more strategic about it than Griselle might, but the second he has the opportunity he’s putting that dude in the hospital too.
And honestly, I feel like AZ would also get surprisingly violent. He’s decently well-adjusted by the time of the game, but if someone really hurt the person he cares about? I feel like there would be biblical levels of rage in his heart. Even if the reader isn't his partner but instead a member of Team MZ, which is basically like being his adopted grandkid, he would throw hands either way. He’d be planning it out very carefully (probably) but he’d still be swinging, and good luck trying to hold back a 9 foot tall giant. Not to mention Floette with that Light of Ruin move… there would definitely be a missing person case popping up in the Lumiose newspapers.
Also like,, Jacinthe can absolutely ruin a person’s life if they mildly piss her off. If someone put her s/o in the hospital she’d probably have a hitman on them by tomorrow afternoon. And Lebanne would also be out for blood too, she’d beat that guy until she is physically dragged off of him. The soft, polite maid persona is coming right off, so... RIP, I guess.
Admittedly I don’t know as much about Ivor but if something ever did spur him to attack someone,, that person would be unconscious from the first punch and on life support by the sixth. I know he’s kind of an airhead but if someone did hospitalize his partner than I really doubt he’d be remotely calm about it, you know? Aside from AZ and maybe Philippe, Ivor is probably the most physically imposing character here, so that attacker is going to be regretting their life choices real fucking fast.
Honestly the only ones that I can see as not wanting to attack this guy are Lida, Naveen and Gwynn but like,, even then, man. Do you think that Canari would stream his ass beating?
Apologies if this is a little OOC, I sadly haven’t completed the game yet but I’ve watched enough playthroughs and read enough fanfiction to get the basic vibe of some of these characters (hopefully 😓)
Calling Corbeau a pretty boy. He smirks and makes a snarky comment. “Me? You should see yourself, angel.”
He then thinks about your comment for the rest of the day, night, and following week.
Calling Grisham a pretty boy. He stammers. He looks away in a poor attempt to hide how his cheeks are as red as his eyes. “You’re the pretty one, sweetheart.”
He stays awake that night, your voice flooding every open spot in his head.
Calling Griselle a pretty girl. She flushes and scoffs, but there’s no real malice in her words. “Oh, shut up.”
She thinks about your words next time she smokes, and smiles to herself as she lights the cigarette.
Calling Philippe a pretty boy. He grins. His cheeks flush a low pink, and he wraps an arm around you. “You’re a pretty thing too, doll.”
He internalizes the comment, and, very slyly, tries to fish the words out of you again.
Love languages: Corbeau, Philippe, Grisham, Griselle
Corbeau who’s love language is gift giving and quality time
Who gets you a beautiful arrangement of flowers every time he visits your apartment, and always has a comfy set of pjs waiting for you at his
Who keeps all your favorite… everything… at his home, just to make sure you’re comfortable
Who gets you little keychain plushies of his entire team (and has a full set of yours in the drawer of his bedside table)
Who always feels better when you’re around him, even if you aren’t interacting with him. Just being able to glance at you over the top of his laptop makes his heart flutter
Who starts talking more breaks from work just so he can see you for five minutes on days you don’t spend in his office
Philippe who’s love language is acts of service and physical touch
Who always looks forward to seeing you, just to he can envelop you in his warmth. He gets very little soft touch in his line of work, and spends all his free time at work (what little he has) daydreaming about just hugging you or holding your hand or having your legs touch from opposite ends of the couch
Who wakes up just a little bit earlier so he can make you a lunch for later
Who made sure the apartment had a bathtub specifically you could come home to him and you could both relax in it. Together.
Grisham who’s love language is acts of service and words of affirmation
Who loves to make you breakfast and coffee in bed
Who kisses you like there’s no tomorrow if you have a warm meal for him when he gets back home late
Who can’t go ten minutes without calling you lovely or beautiful or angelic or kind
Who can’t seem to ever settle on one pet name for you
Griselle who’s love language is physical touch and words of affirmation
Who can’t keep her hands off you for five minutes, constantly holding your hand and kissing you
Who clings on to you like a life line even in her sleep
Who absolutely melts every time you tell her you love her or that you value her, even if she tries her best to hide if from you
Who has such a hard time telling you how she feels even though it physically hurts her every time she can’t get the words out right
Who whispers all her hopes and dreams, all her future plans where you are standing next to her, into your hair when she thinks you’re asleep
Im in a very monster mood rn. What better way to express it than by writing monster!plza characters??
the suggestive warning is mainly for Griselle and Mable
Grisham
Grisham sat with his back turned to you, crimson wings splayed out upon the bedsheets with you situated behind him, tweezers in hand. His shirt had long been removed, folded neatly upon the foot of the bed. You steadily combed your way through the soft, rounded feathers upon his back as you plucked them free from offending specks of dust and muck.
“I never realised how soft you are here, Grish,” you hummed, running a gentle hand up along the muscles of his back. The smaller feathers roused in response, fluffing up at your touch. Such beautiful, speckled patterns they had… they decorated the skin of his back like rubies.
Grisham shivered. The colourful feathers that sprouted from his hind fanned and fluttered somewhat before setting. “Have you… not felt those ones before?”
You shook your head, diligently combing through each feather. Plucking free a rather large speck of muck, you flicked it away haphazardly. “Nope. Only your wings and the ones on your neck. Tail feathers too, I guess.”
His head lulled forward in contentment, and a tiny, trilling coo left his throat. He was pleasantly warm to the touch with you now moving to give his wings the same treatment. You felt the jagged, uneven edges of his flight feathers against your finger, running it along the entirety of your lover’s wingspan. They weren’t growing back the way they should… they had been snipped too close to the blood vessels within. It would take a while for them to recover fully.
“…Do these hurt, Grisham?”
He stilled for a moment. Quiet. He lifted his head to look at you over his shoulder, red eyes gazing at you. You had his trust. “Not anymore. But they’re a reminder.”
You frowned. Careful in your motions, you began to comb through his flight-feathers just as you had done the ones dappling his back.
“Griselle still believes she will be able to fly someday,” Grisham’s voice was softer as he spoke — more mournful. “It’s harder for her to accept it.”
The words echoed as your heart tightened. Griselle still believes she will fly again.
“Ah… pardonne-moi. I did not mean to dampen the mood, my dear,” Grisham’s wings retracted back, shining you an apologetic smile. “You do such a splendid job each time. Thank you.”
You shuffled forward on your knees to snuggle up to him as warm feathers wrapped around your side in response. “I do it ‘cause I love you, Gris. And also ‘cause you always do that thing I like at the end…”
He quirked a brow. “Mm? You mean… this?” A familiar rustling you knew all too well sounded from behind you. Glancing backwards, his tail had fanned out in all of its spectacular colours; scarlets, oranges, yellows, even wiry feathers of blue spiralling like fireworks in the midnight sky. The sight always wooed you, your flushed cheeks proof of that.
Griselle
It had been a long, long day of hospitality. Griselle had officially achieved a new record of the shortest amount of time taken to threaten to burn a customer to ashes, as per Grisham’s words. But now, she was in the nest of her own apartment room, splayed out comfortably upon her chest with you straddling her bare back, mindful of her wings. New feathers were growing on her neck and shoulders and they were a pain in the ass to reach. Who better to ask for preening than her own partner?
“Uhh…” you spoke, gently running your fingers up and down the softened feathers upon her skin. They roused and fluffed up almost instantly. Cute. Your fingers soon made contact with a sheathed feather after minutes of them roaming.
Griselle hissed a sharp breath. You froze.
“Sorry! I’m sorry!” You yelped in the same heartbeat as her pained noise, flinging back your hand as though it were its own sentient being.
She simply turned her head to look at you, tongue poking out with a smug smirk. “Got you. Hah. Those don’t hurt, babe.”
You frowned. Oh, so she was in that kind of mood. Pouting, you gently rubbed the keratin between your thumb and finger, watching as the material crumbled with ease to reveal a gorgeous new feather. Using a nearby tissue, you wiped off as much of the leftover keratin as possible. Beneath you, Griselle trilled with her eyes closed, happy and content as the itchiness of her new feathers dissipated.
“That feel good, Elle?” You purred, massaging the area around the newly unsheathed feather to revel in the feeling of her softness. They all held the same ombré as her twintails… such a pretty girl. And you made sure she knew that.
She nodded with a wordless hum, chest rising and falling as your fingers travelled to find another sheath. The keratin was crushed with just as much ease as the last as you leant down to peck a tender, loving kiss to your girlfriend’s head; you were met with the sweetest sound as she lifted it.
“Prrmm?” She trilled, her tail flaring. It wasn’t as grandiose as her brother’s, but it was an endearing sight all the same. In her sleepy daze, her wings began to quiver.
“I swear I’ve heard a Talonflame make that noise before. Hell, even a Tyrantrum,” You teased, scritching the space right behind her ear.
“Prrhhh… mmf, shuddup…” her talons flexed against the softness of the bedsheets, powder-blue eyes gazing back at you with lidded warmth.
A gentle hum left your throat as a few more final keratin sheaths were removed. Griselle deserved to feel peace like this… deserved to feel loved. Her eyes were fixed upon you, a certain glint behind them.
Tucking in her wings, you sat up somewhat as she rolled over onto her back, the soft feathers upon her chest just barely covering her nipples. You felt like prey to a Talonflame as she stared at you; taking your hand in hers, she pressed it to the space between her soft mounds. “Well?”
Your throat went dry, feeling her plush feathers between your fingers. “I, uhh… I think I see another one here.”
Corbeau
He was in an even sourer mood than usual, if such a thing were possible. Had the venom finally seeped from his fangs into his brain? Tentatively, you stepped out of the elevator, having been ushered to the Rust Syndicate’s second floor by Philippe. He knew you were the only one who could pacify Corbeau, even in moods like this.
“Corbeau? You, uhh… you here, honey? You alright?” You called out, footsteps sounding on the marble floor of his suite. The sound of frantic splashing followed by a particularly heavy thwap caught your attention.
“Don’t—! Don’t come in! Damnit!” A voice barked from within the bathroom. The intended result was the opposite as you raced towards the source of the voice, flinging the door open.
“Corbeau?! Arceus above, what are you doing?!”
Tangled up in the coils of his own tail, Corbeau thrashed helplessly upon the tiled floor. It was best advised to leave him to his own devices during shedding, but this particular shed was being a bugger… bits of scale were freed and flaking off, whereas other patches were tight and refusing to move. It looked sore. He gave a guttural hiss, slitted pupils dilating once he craned his neck to look at you.
“I’m… ugh. I’m stuck. This damn shed is pissing me off,” Corbeau huffed, forked tongue darting from his mouth as he attempted to scrub the patches of dry scale with a moistened loofah. The joys of being reptilian.
Past experience of Arbok and Seviper care granted you knowledge of what to do during these moments. You approached your poor lover, carefully taking the loofah from his clawed hands. “Beau… that’s only gonna irritate it. You need to soak yourself, honey. Your skin’s too dry for you to properly shed.”
He narrowed his eyes, glaring at the shimmering violet and magenta scales of his coils as if they personally offended him. In a way, they did. As you spoke, his tongue continued to flick out past his fangs. “I’ve been doing that, doll. I’ve tried everything.”
“Never had a stuck shed before, huh?”
“…No. It was always simple until now. You sure I can’t just rip it off?” Corbeau shook his head, pupils widening as he steadily calmed down in your presence. The very tip of his long, winding tail flicked to and fro.
You frowned, setting the loofah upon the nearby sink just out of his reach. Corbeau gave an instinctive hiss of frustration, the hood upon his neck fanning out. Of course, his ire was never directed towards you. “Absolutely not. It’s either I throw you back in that tub to soak for a while, or the next shed is even worse.”
Corbeau opened his mouth to protest, only to shut it just as quickly. His forked tongue flicked in resignation, the big bad boss of the Rust Syndicate obediently acknowledging his lover’s words. He shuffled off his usual dress-shirt, letting you marvel at the colourful swatches of scales upon his chest as he heaved his coils back into the warmth of the tub, eyeing you expectantly.
“Good boy. You better let me keep that shed when it comes off.”
Ivor
The clock struck midnight, and you were still wide awake. The silky warmth of your boyfriend’s fur often did the trick in sending you to sleep, but apparently not this time. You yawned, reaching out for the mountain of a man you called your lover… only to find the space beside you empty. Oh no. Ivor on the loose was never a good thing.
A blood-curdling howl echoed through the apartment, the sound of scratching at the bedroom door causing your heartrate to spike. This was it. There was a Houndoom at your door, and the Grim Reaper was on his way. Instinctively, you bunched the sheets of the bed up over your chest.
“…Ivor?”
Your whisper was met with a pitiful whine, the scratches pausing for a moment before resuming with newfound vigour. At this rate, whatever was on the other side would dig through the wood soon enough.
“Ivor, is that you?” Letting the sheets fall, you stepped over to the door of the bedroom, twisting the knob to open it. Your eyes softened at the sight of a particularly mucky, soggy ball of blond fluff. “Oh, Ivor…”
Gazing up at you with the wettest puppy-dog eyes, Ivor’s tail drooped sadly behind him as he sat upon the floor. Even his ears were pinned back… “I saw a Bunnelby… I wanted to catch it for you. I thought you were hungry.”
Hands bracing against his toned biceps, you helped him up onto his paws with a frown of sympathy. “It got away, huh?” You plucked a few burrs from his fur as you spoke.
Ivor simply nodded.
“We’ve already got food in, sweetie. You don’t have to rush out at midnight to catch stuff for me,” you hummed, brushing the hair away from his eyes before cupping his cheeks. “Lie down, hun. Let me clean you up. Where’s your brush?”
“Brush!” He perked at the mention of that magic word, and in an instant he was rummaging through a nearby drawer. Your lumbering beast of a lover returned to your side, tail wagging with a full coverage hand-brush in his maw. Taking it from between his sharp canines, you booped his nose before gesturing towards the bed — warm and inviting. In the very next heartbeat he was laying upon it, fluffy belly exposed to you with a tail wagging at one-hundred miles per hour.
“Good boy, Ivor. Silly pup, sneaking outside after a rainstorm,” you cooed to him, slipping the brush onto your hand to ease the bristles through his fur. Burrs, twigs, and seeds were teased out of his pelt, Ivor lying ever so contentedly beneath you. With your current hand busy, your other one came to rub and scritch at the softness of his tummy, just where you knew he liked.
“Nooo…” His reaction was instant as he bared himself to you more, leg kicking. Maybe you’d need to invest in a tracking collar of some kind. If only for moments like this. You moved the brush to tease the bristles through his chest fur, soon raking it over his tummy. His leg kicked even more and you chuckled.
“Does that feel good, sweetie?”
Ivor responded with a whine, reaching his paws out to pull you flush against his toned chest. If his tail wagged any faster, he would take off. And you certainly weren’t about to leave his embrace anytime soon. He rolled over, smothering you beneath him as he rubbed his cheek against yours. “Mm… my darling…”
Mable
Arceus knows when the plan had been approved, or why Professor Sycamore was more than happy to have a makeshift aquarium pool fitted into his laboratory, but hey, there it was. They had to contain the newly appointed researcher somehow. And Arceus almighty, was it difficult to house something aquatic. Everything electronic in the lab had been subsequently water-proofed, and then water-proofed several times more.
Seeing as though you were the one she had taken quite a fond liking to — and vice versa, of course — you were routinely sent up towards Mable’s lab wielding little more than a soft brush and a bucket of water infused with anti-fungal solution. Scale-rot was a big risk, especially for a woman so… poisonous. The elevator dinged, and you stepped out with a pep in your step.
“Mabes? It’s just me. I’m sorry, but I’ve got the brush again,” you called out, setting the bucket down as you gazed into the deep, murky waters of the pool. You could feel a gaze piercing through you, almost predatory. It gave you a thrill. Bubbles rose from somewhere deep within the waters; a dim, blue glow only just barely punctured the darkness — there she was.
“You want some Magikarp, too?” You jested, crouching down beside the lipped edge of the aquarium. “If you jump through a hoop, I’ll give you one.”
Two dorsal fins soon speared through the water’s surface, blue with black streaks and pointed in five tips like an abyssal star. The water was still for a heartbeat, her fins disappearing as soon as they had emerged. Mable lunged for you, splashing you with a fair amount of water as she stopped just short of your face. “Who says it’s Magikarp I’m craving?”
You shrieked as you fell back, slipping on the floor and almost knocking over the bucket of treatment. “M-Mable!”
“I was wondering when my star researcher would show up,” she grinned, sliding forward to cross her large, fin-like arms beneath her, resting upon them. They were the same colour and barbarous star shape as her dorsal fins, ending in poisonous prongs. You swear you had seen a creature that looked similar to her in a marine biology book. “Look at that. You’re already wet. Might as well come in.”
You shook your head, pouting as you squeezed the water from your hair as best you could with a blush dusting your cheeks. “Nope. No. Not just yet. You know what I’m here for, Mabes.”
Mable eyed the bucket. Then her gaze flicked back towards you. “This is because I gnawed off the last tracker they gave me, isn’t it?”
“I’m guessing so. Now c’mon honey, I’ll make it quick,” you brandished the soft-bristled brush, dipping it into the anti-fungal treatment. Mable rolled her eyes.
Her claws dug into the ‘shore’ of her pool as she hoisted the rest of her body out of the water, splashing you some more. You couldn’t help but let your gaze rake over her torso and tail, over the wealth of skin beneath patterned, shining scales… she was gorgeous from head to — well, fins. Another pair of large, star-shaped arms protruded from just above her hips, her tail ending in a fan of ovals resembling her hairstyle. She smiled, narrowing her eyes. “See something you like?”
You blinked, turning your attention back to the brush in hand. “…Yeah.”
The bristles ran over her softened scales, coating them in the treatment. You occasionally splashed water over her fins and gills, keeping her body sufficiently moist as you moved down to her tail. Mable watched your every move intently.
Reaching for the bucket, you had managed to dunk the first few bristles as you soon felt… something tap at your ankles. In the very same heartbeat, you were sent plummeting onto your hind as her tail swiped forward. “H-hey! Mable, the bucket!”
“Oh dear. You should know to be careful around slippery surfaces,” Mable was over you in an instant, tail coiling up around your calf and thigh with your head caged between her barbed fins. Her scaled body was pressed firmly against yours. “I would hate for my little star researcher to drown. You do such a good job for me, after all.”
If you write for any of the plza girls as well, would love to see a "pokemon care" entry for them! honestly i just liked seeing the applied knowledge and how happy the mons seem after care it was really cute!
otherwise, no worries if not! (altho if ur comfortable posting the ask just so i know it won't get posted)
It's been 84 years anon, I'm so sorry to make you wait! Honestly, I originally wasn't going to do this. But I sat on it (because it's not a huge, difficult, ask. I think I was just getting tired and exhausted of writing at the time (in a good way!) and I couldn't be bothered taking on another multi-pairing/multi-character fic.
Also, I deliberately didn't do Gwynn, because hers was hard to figure out. And I also didn't add Taunie because I already did Urbain.
Anway, here ya go!
Griselle
Griselle’s apartment always smelled faintly of coffee grounds and flour—warm, lived-in, the kind of space that reminded you Grisham baked even when he didn’t have to.
“Okay,” you said, crouched in front of the chair with your small trimmers in hand. “Hold her steady.”
“I am holding her steady,” Griselle snapped—though her voice had that familiar edge of stress instead of actual annoyance.
She sat with Talonflame secured against her chest the way you’d instructed her to do it: the bird’s back pressed against her, wings tucked, legs gently but firmly held so those wicked talons couldn’t rake. Talonflame’s eyes were sharp, bright, and deeply unimpressed about being handled like an overgrown toddler.
You clicked your tongue. “She’s being very brave.”
Talonflame made a sound that was halfway between a hiss and a judgmental scoff.
Griselle rolled her eyes. “She’s plotting my murder.”
“Yeah,” you agreed easily, adjusting your grip on one claw. “Like this isn't the umpteenth time we've done this.”
Snip. Just the very tip.
Talonflame jerked slightly, then settled again, feathers puffing with indignation.
“That’s one,” you said. “Four more.”
Griselle’s grip tightened. “Just hurry up.”
“I am hurrying,” you shot back, and she made a face at you that clearly said shut up before I fall in love with you again. It was the way her mouth twitched afterward that gave her away.
The last claw went smoothly. You took your time filing the edges down so Talonflame wouldn’t snag anything later, and when you finally leaned back, you gave her talons a gentle inspection.
“All done,” you announced.
Griselle exhaled like she’d just survived a battle as she released the pokemon.
Talonflame flapped, righting herself in her owner's lap. She blinked slowly, then let out a low rumble that sounded suspiciously like fine. acceptable. you may live.
You smiled. “Good job, pretty girl.”
Griselle snorted. “Don’t compliment her. It’ll go to her head.”
You reached out to smooth Talonflame’s feathers along her side—just a light stroke, checking her condition the way you always did. Talonflame didn’t flinch, but you felt it immediately.
A patch. Not bald, exactly. Not obvious unless you were looking for it… but thinner. A little naked. A little raw around the edges, like she’d been worrying at it.
You frowned. “Griselle,” you said quietly. “Have you noticed her plucking, lately?”
Griselle stiffened. “What?” she snapped, too fast.
You didn’t rise to it. You simply angled your head, shifting your gaze to the faint patch near Talonflame’s flank where the feathers looked uneven, disturbed.
Griselle’s eyes flicked there, then away.
“…Maybe,” she admitted, voice tighter than usual.
Your heart softened immediately, because Griselle only got sharp like that when she cared.
“Do you know how long it's been going on?” you asked gently.
Griselle scoffed. “I don’t know. I noticed it a little while ago. It’s barely anything.”
“It’s not nothing,” you said. “And birds don’t do that for no reason.”
Griselle’s jaw clenched. “I’ve checked for pests. I’ve checked her skin. I’ve changed her perches. I’ve tried different toys. I don’t know what she wants.”
You blinked. “Did you have her hormones checked?”
Griselle stared at you like you’d asked her if Talonflame paid rent.
“…Her what?”
You sighed, setting the trimmers aside. “Okay. Listen.”
You moved to sit on the edge of the couch, tone calm but practical—because Talonflame couldn’t talk, and Griselle was too stressed to guess.
“Some birds pluck when they’re anxious,” you explained. “Or bored. Or over-stimulated. But raptors…especially ones as strong-willed as Talonflame…”
Talonflame puffed up, clearly pleased by the praise.
“…can also pluck when they’re in season,” you continued, “and they don’t know what to do with that instinct.”
Griselle’s brows pinched. “You’re telling me she’s… what. Frustrated?”
“She might be,” you said, nodding. “Breeding season in the wild means outlets—flight, territory, social behaviors. But inside, it can turn into stress. Which can turn into feather-plucking.”
Griselle’s expression went a little blank. Like she’d never once paused to imagine Talonflame as anything other than hers. And you could see the moment it clicked—that this wasn’t a behavior problem. It was an unmet need.
“…That’s stupid,” Griselle muttered.
You smiled faintly. “It’s nature.”
Griselle rolled her eyes. “Nature can get a hobby.”
Talonflame made an offended sound.
You stood. “I’m going to make her tea.”
Griselle blinked. “You’re going to make my bird tea?”
“Yeah,” you said, already in the kitchen. “Fruit tea. Calming herbs. Something gentle.”
“…This is ridiculous.”
“Maybe, but you'll let me do it because you love her. And you love me,” you replied, grabbing a mug.
Griselle muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Shut up.”
You filled the kettle, then rummaged through what Griselle had on hand. You found chamomile—barely used—and smiled to yourself.
“Perfect.”
You added the chamomile tea bag, then crushed a Lum berry lightly and mixed in a bit of Oran for sweetness and balance. A simple blend—comforting and safe.
When it was ready, you let it cool enough to be warm instead of hot, then stirred in a powdered supplement you had tucked in your bag—something gentle meant to help even out hormonal spikes, the same way trainers sometimes used supportive blends for nervous Pokémon during seasonal changes.
Griselle watched you like she couldn’t decide if she was insulted or impressed. Probably both.
When you set the mug down on the table, Talonflame opened her wings and hopped onto the surface, leaning forward immediately, eyes narrowing as she inspected it like a suspicious customer.
Griselle snorted. “She’s judging your recipe.”
“Let her,” you said sweetly. “She’s a foodie.”
Talonflame dipped her beak delicately. Then lifted her head, swallowing in that unmistakably birdlike way—little jerks, little pauses.
Griselle blinked. “Oh my god.”
You leaned closer. “Look at her go.”
Talonflame took another sip. Then, another. As she lifted her head to swallow, her beak making grinding sounds.
Griselle’s voice went flat. “Is that what people mean when they say birds drink crunchy water.”
You choked on a laugh. “Yes.”
Griselle sighed, shoulders finally loosening as if her body had been waiting for permission to stop worrying.
“…If this works,” she said grudgingly, “I’m going to be mad.”
You smiled. “Because it wasn’t your idea?”
“Because it was yours.”
You walked over and leaned against her chair, gently bumping your shoulder against hers. “I can’t help being right.”
Griselle huffed, but she didn’t move away.
“…Thanks,” she said quietly, almost like it pained her.
Griselle watched her, expression softening in spite of herself. And then—without looking at you—she muttered,
“…You can stay over.”
You raised a brow. “Is that a request or an order?”
“It’s me being generous,” Griselle snapped, cheeks faintly pink.
You grinned, leaning in to kiss her cheek—quick and playful.
“Mm. My favorite kind of generous.”
Griselle made a sound of protest.
But she didn’t stop you.
==========
Lida
Lida showed up at your door with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Okay,” she said quickly, shifting her weight as Starmie hovered beside her, gem glowing faintly. “So—this might be nothing. But Starmie’s been acting weird, and I don’t like weird.”
You set what you were doing aside immediately. “What kind of weird?”
“Subtle weird,” Lida replied, gesturing animatedly. “Nothing dramatic. No distress signals. But it's slower. And it's… I don’t know. Off.”
Starmie drifted closer as you crouched, movements careful, restrained. It didn’t recoil—but it didn’t brighten either.
You studied it closely. “You know," you said with a slight laugh, "Starmie can be so hard to read, sometimes. It's the lack of having a face, I think.”
Lida let out a relieved laugh. “Thank you! I was starting to think I was projecting.”
You circled slowly, watching how Starmie rotated—how its arms shifted just a fraction slower than usual. Then your gaze settled on the core. The red gem was still luminous—but dulled, like light behind fogged glass.
You frowned. “What have you been feeding it?”
“Same diet as always,” Lida said immediately. “Hoenn-based nutrients. Marine minerals. Balanced proteins.”
You paused. “Hoenn?”
She nodded. “Born and raised.”
“Have you given it any supplements since coming to Lumiose?” you asked.
Lida blinked. “No…? At the time it was a Staryu, it didn’t need seem to need any.”
Something clicked.
“Staryu was younger,” you said. “Younger Pokémon adapt faster. Their systems bounce back more easily.”
Lida’s brows drew together as she looked at Starmie again. “So you’re saying it did adapt—but not completely?”
“Exactly,” you said. “Lumiose water isn’t bad—but it’s treated differently. Even trace changes can matter for Pokémon like Starmie.”
Lida groaned softly. “Wow. Okay. That explains a lot.”
She crouched beside Starmie, expression serious now but not panicked. “I should’ve thought of that.”
“You didn’t miss anything obvious,” you reassured her. “You just crossed regions. A lot of people don't think about things like this. They hardly think about it themselves when they travel to another region their bodies struggle with something simple like water.”
That seemed to help. She straightened a little. “Alright. What do we do?”
You smiled. “We start with a reset.”
You went to the bathroom and filled the tub with warm water, then reached for a small container from your supplies. Carefully, you sprinkled in a measured amount of pale mineral powder—something designed to neutralize additives and rebalance the water’s composition. You stirred the water with your hand, and it dissolved, the surface shimmered faintly before settling.
“This should help,” you said. “It mimics a cleaner, more natural mineral balance—close enough to ease the transition without shocking her system.”
You gestured for Starmie to lower itself in.
It did so immediately. Almost at once, its movements slowed—not sluggish, but eased. The faint tension in its rotation softened.
Lida’s face lit up. “Oh. That’s better.”
“That’s equilibrium reasserting itself,” you said. “This helps clear any lingering imbalance.”
As Starmie soaked, you explained the supplements—trace minerals to bridge the difference between Hoenn’s waters and Lumiose’s. Temporary. Supportive. Gentle.
“So just until its fully acclimated,” Lida summarized. “This won't be a forever thing?.”
“Exactly.”
Lida nodded decisively. “Got it. I can do that.”
When Starmie finally lifted from the tub, its gem shimmered clearer—still subdued, but noticeably brighter than before.
Lida smiled wide, relief unmistakable. “There you are.”
Starmie rotated once, steadier now, drifting closer to her.
Lida looked back at you, grin softening. “Thanks. Seriously. I’m really glad I came to you.”
You returned the smile. “I'm glad I was able to help!”
And as Starmie hovered calmly at her side again, it was clear that with a little adjustment—and a lot of care—everything was already on its way back into balance.
==========
Canari
You heard the shouting before you even reached the building.
It echoed out of the Rancine Construction garage—metal walls amplifying every word into something that sounded like a full-blown emergency.
“What do you mean you don’t know what’s wrong?! My, poor, poor, eelektross!!”
You froze mid-step.
“…what in the world?” you muttered, already turning toward the open bay.
Inside the office, it was empty—no Tarragon. But the yelling was louder now, coming from deeper in the garage. You followed it.
Canari was crouched on the concrete floor, hands in her hair, pacing in tight, furious circles. Tarragon stood nearby, awkwardly patting her shoulder and murmuring reassurances that were very clearly not working.
On the floor between them lay Eelektross.
“Ohhh, no,” you said quietly, walking over.
Canari whirled around. “DO YOU SEE THIS??”
Eelektross gave a weak, unhappy gurgle, body sluggish. Its normally slick, vibrant skin looked dull and dry, almost flaky in places—and its belly was just a little rounder than you remembered.
You crouched beside it immediately. “Hey, big guy.”
Eelektross shifted, letting out a pitiful sound.
Your eyes flicked to the floor.
Crumbs. Golden, buttery crumbs.
And right in front of Eelektross—a half-eaten Lumiose galette, extra crispy, exactly the kind it liked.
You sighed. “…Canari,” you said carefully, “how often do you feed Eelektross galettes?”
She bristled instantly. “What does that have to do with anything?”
You lifted a brow. "Canari, how much?"
She crossed her arms. “…As much as she wants.”
“And how much is that?”
Canari threw her hands up. “She likes them! And she’s strong! Why can’t I spoil her a little?”
You sat back on your heels and looked at her flatly. “That's not healthy! Urbain would eat curry-croissant for every meal if he could. Doesn't mean I should let him.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then, she scoffed.
“That’s different.”
“No, it really isn't.”
You leaned forward, pointing gently. “She’s overweight. Her skin’s dry because her diet’s unbalanced. And judging by how sluggish she is…”
You paused, deliberately.
“…Has her battle performance dipped recently?”
Canari made a sound that could only be described as a near-crashout.
“DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT,” she snapped. “She’s been FINE.”
Tarragon shifted uncomfortably.
“…She did miss a dodge last week,” he offered.
Canari whipped around. “WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT, POPS?!”
You reached into your bag before she could spiral further and pulled out a sealed jar and tossed it to her.
She caught it on reflex. “What is this.”
“Goodra slime,” you said. “Coat her skin with it—gently. It’ll help rehydrate and soothe the dryness.”
Her expression shifted instantly—anger giving way to focus. “That’ll help?”
“Yes,” you said. “But only if you fix the diet.”
She scowled. “So no more galettes.”
“Once in a while,” you corrected. “And I do mean once in a while.”
Canari glanced at Eelektross, who let out another miserable gurgle.
Her shoulders slumped.
“…Fine,” she muttered. “Fewer treats.”
You stood. “Good.”
She looked up at you, frowning. “You’re just going to leave?”
“You’ve got this,” you said calmly. “She’ll feel better soon—if you follow through.”
You turned toward the exit.
Behind you, Canari called out, quieter now—
“…Thanks.”
You didn’t turn around.
But you smiled.
==========
Emma
The Lookout Bureau was calm when you arrived—orderly, efficient, quietly alive with routine.
Emma stood near her desk, reviewing a report with practiced focus. At her side sat Mimi, her Espurr, posture neat and composed.
Too composed.
You noticed it immediately.
“Hey,” you said, stepping closer. “How’s Mimi doing today?”
Emma looked up and smiled. “She’s been good. Really good.”
But her eyes flicked back to Espurr—not worried, exactly. Observant.
“She hasn’t used her powers much,” Emma added. “Which is… fine. Usually. But she still seems to be not feeling well.”
You crouched beside Mimi, keeping your movements slow and respectful. Espurr’s psychic presence was subtle, but dense—contained, like pressure behind glass.
“She’s holding a lot in,” you murmured.
Emma nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
There was no panic in her voice—just assessment.
“Espurrs don’t always know how to let it out safely,” you said. “Especially when they’re trying to be good.”
Emma smiled faintly at that. “That sounds like her. I just wish I could help her.”
"Well, it just so happens I have an idea."
You reached into your bag and pulled out a small set of wooden blocks—smooth, light, painted in muted colors.
Emma tilted her head. “What are those for?”
“Think of it like… stretching,” you said. “Low-level psychic use. Controlled. Something she can stop whenever she wants.”
You arranged the blocks into a simple stack on the floor. “Mimi,” you murmured. “You don’t have to lift them all. Just one.”
Mimi’s eyes flickered.
Slowly, one block rose—wobbly, uncertain—hovering just a few inches off the ground before settling back down.
Emma watched closely, attentive but relaxed. “Oh, wow.”
You smiled.
The two of you stayed there for several minutes, letting Mimi experiment on her own terms. Sometimes she lifted a block. Sometimes she nudged it. Sometimes she simply watched, psychic energy easing little by little.
You could feel it—the pressure dissipating.
Emma crouched beside you. “She seems lighter.”
“She is,” you said. “This keeps things from building up too much.”
Emma nodded thoughtfully. “I can add this to her daily routine.”
Mimi lifted another block—steadier now—then placed it down with care.
Emma smiled, warm and proud. “Good job, Mimi.”
Mimi's tail curled comfortably around her feet. Not exhausted. Not overwhelmed. But balanced.
Emma stood, brushing her hands together. “Thanks for the idea. Sometimes it helps to have another perspective.”
You smiled back. “You were already paying attention. This just gives her a way to respond.”
Emma looked down at Mimi, expression soft but assured. “We’ll keep working on it.”
Mimi glanced up at her trainer, eyes calm, psychic presence finally at ease.
==========
Lebanne and Jacinthe
You spotted Lebanne at the farmer’s market before she noticed you—standing near a stall of root vegetables, in that familiar maid outfit Jacinthe always made her wear, posture straight and proper, expression demure, as you've always seen it 90% of the time.
You slid up beside her. “Here to challenge me to another battle?”
She glanced at you, lips curving faintly. “Not today.”
You blinked. “That’s new.”
Lebanne sighed, soft but honest. “My Pokémon haven’t been performing well.”
That got your attention. “How so?”
“They’re slower,” she said. “Endurance is dropping. Their hits aren’t landing with the same force. Not because they’re unwilling—just… depleted.”
Jacinthe laughed lightly. “Ah, yes. The food I recommend is excellent quality.”
You didn’t even blink. “It’s terrible for dragon-types.”
The silence that followed was immaculate.
Jacinthe turned to you slowly. “Excuse moi?”
“You heard me,” you said, deadpan. “Light proteins. Botanical blends. Organic sourcing. Everything about it prioritizes refinement over output.”
“Dragon-types don’t thrive on that,” you continued. “They need dense fuel. Heavy minerals. Endurance support. You’re feeding Lebanne’s Pokémon like they’re meant to pose, not fight.”
“My Pokémon flourish on it,” Jacinthe said coolly.
“Of course they do,” you replied. “It’s designed for fairy-types, and then some. Everything calibrated for balance and aesthetic purity.”
Lebanne’s shoulders twitched. Just barely.
“It’s humane-grade, artisanal, and very expensive,” you added. “Which makes it perfect for you and your pokemon. Not for dragons.”
Jacinthe bristled. “You’re suggesting I don’t know how to care for Pokémon?”
“I’m suggesting,” you continued calmly, “that dragon-types have different metabolic needs. Trainers like Lance, Claire, Raihan—they don’t feed their Pokémon boutique nonsense. Their teams are strong because their diets are designed for dragons.”
Jacinthe scoffed. “Those trainers are traditional.”
“And successful. You're talking about a champion and two gym leaders, who happen to be the last in line of their region's gym challenge,” you shot back.
The tension crackled.
Lebanne shifted subtly between you—not to intervene, but to de-escalate. “I appreciate the concern,” she said to you evenly. “Perhaps we can discuss this later.”
You exhaled, realizing you were wasting breath.
“Fine,” you said, already pulling out your phone. “I’ll text you the brand I recommend. Use it or don’t—but your Pokémon deserve fuel, not fashion.”
Jacinthe’s hologram flickered with irritation. “This conversation is beneath—”
"Well, you weren't even fucking wanted here in the first place," you rolled your eyes at the hologram, who gasped, offended.
Lebanne met your eyes, just for a moment, and inclined her head.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
A few weeks later, the news traveled fast.
Lebanne had nearly defeated Jacinthe in a sparring match—dragons moving faster, hitting harder, refusing to tire, even at a type disadvantage.
You laughed so hard you had to sit down. Because somewhere in Hotel Richissme, you imagined Jacinthe was fuming.
PLZA men responding to you asking them to leave the room so you can change
-
Corbeau would stand up and start checking you over for concussion symptoms, and ask "did you hit your head? Do you not remember I just had my face between your ass cheeks like 30 minutes ago? If anything, you owe me a show."
But his voice is light and teasing, and he will leave if you press it.
Grisham would turn to leave immediately, but then stop and look at you with sadness and concern. "Is everything okay? Are you upset about something?"
He looks at you with puppy dog eyes and wonders what he did wrong.
Ivor would just walk straight out of the room without looking back, not even registering for a second that it might have been a joke.
Awhile back I mentioned to @littlesugarbug that I was going to try my hand at one of these multixreader prompts as I was inspired as to how well she writes characters. Well as I was working on mine I saw this post and immediately sent it off to Bug. And well...here we are lol.
The post alone will let you know that this is smut - so no minors! 🔞
Also bear with me as my focus has only been on Corbeau and Philippe (and as of late, really just Philippe 🥰) so outside of those two this is my first time writing the other characters.
Did my best to keep it very gender neutral for the reader character.
Characters included - Corbeau, Philippe, Grisham, Griselle, Mable, and for @xxfmamfxx Tarragon (girl i tried okay...)
Ao3 Link - ✨@littlesugarbug's version here!✨
Content Warnings: Acts of Sex, Explicit Language, Sexual Language - Reminder No Minors 🔞
“You’re getting antsy again.” You chuckled as you lowered yourself onto him. Corbeau watched as you sat down, his hard erection now resting up against your back as you adjusted yourself over him. Your legs resting on either side of his torso.
Corbeau lets out a heavy breath as he tries to keep himself composed under you. His fingers gripping down tight on your thighs as you go back to edging him. You smile; for how he was under you was a lovely sight, and you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed these sessions. You reach back and grab his length. Your hand wrapping around it as you go back to moving your hand up and down. Making sure it hits the tip to the base with each pass. And for more fun you made sure to add a little bit of grip to your passes, really making sure he could get back to the edge with no issue.
You straighten your back so your eyes can take in all of him. His brows were furrowed, a hint of sweat was now glistening his forehead, small little squirms were happening as he worked on keeping himself composed - all while his mouth had stayed slightly open. The sharp inhales he would take filling the space each time he was getting close.
“Mi amor please…” his fingers press down even tighter into your thighs.
Your eyes fall back to his face, a smirk now on your lips, “Oh, but baby it’s only been…” you playfully look around the room, “like twenty minutes. You told me you’d last at least thirty. Is that not the case anymore?”
“Merde- mi amor…” His chest was moving with more purpose as he was clearly getting to the edge again.
You chuckle, “If it gets too much you are more than welcome to say the magic word.”
Corbeau grips down even harder. And you watch as he holds back a moan, his eyes closing as he pushes his head back into the pillows. His brows knitting together so perfectly and then you-
Stop
Corbeau’s eyes open quickly, his breath catching as his body slowly cools back down.
You adjust yourself on top of him. Your hand still close to his length as you wait for him to settle before starting another round. But as you watch his brows go back to their relaxed state you feel his length grow harder, it throbbing a bit to your touch.
“Just say the magic word if it’s too much.” You smile as your hand grips down on him again. His hard length intoxicating in your hold as you picked up the pace. Your hand moving even faster. Your grip tightening a bit more around him. You yourself letting out little hums as you watch him, feel him in your hand.
But then he takes in a sharp, loud, and a bit alarming breath. Your eyes quickly snapping back up to him.
“I love you.”
You pause…
Your hand now stopping on his length. Only his throbs against your grip bringing you back.
Your brows furrow out of confusion, “…Corbeau?”
His eyes were wide as he looked down to you. His face is in such a state of shock and confusion that you can’t help but smile.
He stays quiet and you question if somehow the world stopped, “Corbeau…” your heart was growing warm, but also a bit of worry slipped into your mind as this was the first time he has said those words to you. So, was it true, or just the heat of the moment?
“Cor-?
“Sorry mi amore, I umm...forgot the word. The magic word.” He smiles, sheepishly, as you watch him bounce back from emotion to emotion. “But I mean I do love you. That’s true. Very true. So true that – oh fuck mi amor.” You watch his back tries to arch as your hand gripped down on his length again.
“What was that?” you tease
He holds back a moan, “I love you, so much, so very much.”
You hum and quickly begin moving yourself, “Well,” you sigh playfully up next to him, “it’s almost been thirty minutes, so how about you take those last remaining minutes to show me just how much you love me.” You smirk as you move yourself on top of him. His length slowly filling you up as you move to sit back down.
He smirks, a hushed sigh of relief leaving his lips, “Oh, I’ll make sure I give you more than a couple of minutes mi amor.”
And before you can even begin moving yourself up and down he’s fucking you hard from below. Your body doing its best to hold on as he rams himself into you. The room filling with sounds you could barely comprehend as your body begins to succumb to him.
He coos at you when he notices you trying to hold back, “I’ll slow down if you say your magic word.”
You huff, and smile finding your lips, “Word or words…”
Corbeau wraps his arms around your waist as a moan slips his lips, “Either…either mi amor.”
You bring yourself down to him, “Well for tonight’s words, how about,” His hips slam into yours, “I love you too Corbeau.” Your breath was sharp as he bottoms out.
He smiles, genuine at first, but you watch as it grows mischievous, “Mmm, I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that. Now how about,” He flips you over, “You keep telling me that until I’m done with you tonight.”
And, well, tonight- he just kept going. And going. And going. And by night’s end neither of you could count how many times you muttered your I love yous to each other.
“Focus” You move yourself up from the floor, your hand still on his length as you bring your face up to his. “Don’t break on me yet.”
Philippe takes in a deep breath only to pair it with a low, guttural, hum as he looks back to you.
You keep your pace steady on his length as you watch him. Your eyes trailing down his body as you look for the telltale signs that he was getting close again.
“Babe- please…” He holds back his moan, his eyes closing to your touch.
You hum as your eyes trail back up to his, “If it’s too much for you, just say the magic word…” You kneel yourself back down, your mouth getting dangerously close to his length.
He presses his back into the couch, his arms moving in a way that catches your attention, “Never thought that one of your ties would hold you back so well…” You move your hand down to the base of his length and your fingers begin to cup his balls. Your tongue moving painstaking slow up his length.
“Fuck…” your eyes shift to his thighs as you watch his muscles tense up. A smile now on your lips as you take in his little unruly squirms.
And then, you kiss his tip only to pull back. His hard length in front of you, throbbing as it begged to be touched again.
You stand back up, your hands slowly moving over his stomach and up his chest as you lean over him. “You’re doing so well…but I have to say…I do miss your hands. Those big” you place a kiss on his lips, “rough” another kiss, this time taking his bottom lip into your teeth only to let go after a playful tug, “hands of yours.”
Philippe’s breathing picks up, his eyes now dilated as he looks at you. The sensation from below now becoming overwhelming for him.
“Do you want me to touch you again?”
He nods and your eyes carry back down to his length. It now begging for any sort of stimulation. And when you look back up to him you give him a playful pout, “Are you sure you’ll be able to last. For me?”
He chuckles, his eyes growing dark as he looks at you, “Anything for you.”
You hum, “Good boy.”
And you wasted no time getting his length into your hand again. It throbbing as you moved up and down making sure no part of it was left untouched. And when you got back down to your knees you heard him fight back moans. His breathing sharp as he inhaled through his nose with force.
“Babe…”
You just hum as you continue stroking him. Taking in how he was getting very close again.
“Babe…”
You continue, your eyes now fully focused on his length. Your free hand gripping his thigh as you wondered if putting his hard, girthy, length into your mouth would take him too far.
He pushes down a hum that is music to your ears, and you find yourself gripping down a bit harder with your hand.
“Fuck, babe, I love you.”
Your hand slows, and you pull back. And when you look up to him, his chest was moving quickly, but his eyes were no longer dark, or dilated, no, now they were wide as his cheeks started growing flush.
You lick your lips, your brow furrowing slightly, “I umm...”
He shakes his head, “I’m sorry…that was not how I wanted to say those words to you for the first time…”
You chuckle, “It’s okay, I mean clearly,” you tighten your grip, his body jolting to the sensation, “I got you right to the edge with that last one.”
His smiles, his shoulders growing more relaxed, “Yeah…yeah you did.”
You try your best not to think too much of it as it was probably the heat of the moment, but your cheeks were growing flush as your body begins to warm from those words.
Philippe notices the silence, “I do love you,” he smiles, “but that really wasn’t how I wanted to tell you…I was going to try to be a bit more romantic…”
You bring yourself up to your feet, a soft smile on your lips as Philippe looks at you. “Well then…what if…” you snake your hands behind him. A rough pull to undo the knot that was holding his hands back, “You show me how much you love me…lover boy.”
Philippe smirks and quicky presses a kiss to your lips as he pins you down on the couch. His overstimulated, yet recently neglected length filling you up in a way that has you pulling back from his lips just so you can take him in. The moan leaving you loud as he brings his hips flush to yours.
He leans down to you, his weight on top of you a firm reminder of his strength and how now he was going to be in control. “If I get too rough, you remember your safe word…right?”
You smile, “Pretty sure mine was…I love you too Philippe.”
He smiles, and you can feel his length throb inside you. And he nods as he chuckles as though your words were a firm checkmate this evening. And when his eyes finally meet yours again you take in a small gasp. For his eyes were back to being dark and dilated and you knew. Oh, you knew that you were going to get fucked so deeply into this couch that there might be a possibility you’ll have to order a new one. And that there was no way a safe word was going to save you tonight. (Nor did you want one to anyways.)
Edging session with Grisham were slowly starting to become your favorite as that man sure had a way with his words. His soft voice sending shivers down your spine creating a different mood during each one.
“My love, give me more, I can take it.” His hands rest on your head as his length throbbed inside your mouth. He hums, “You’re so beautiful I hope you know tha-” You feel his thighs squeezing you as he moans.
You pull back, your eyes moving to take him in as his face was flush, glistening a bit with sweat, all while his face danced between different emotions. His eyes moving back down to you as his hands pushed back your hair, “I love how well you read my body. It’s-”
You move your hand to his length, the hardness of it causing your breath to hitch for a split second.
He sinks into the couch, his fingers now curling into your hair. His nails gently scraping across your scalp, “Divine, my love. It’s divine how you know me so well.” His head lowering as he begins to move his hips.
“Gris…” your voice was soft, “Relax for me.”
Grisham nods, “Okay…”
You wait for him to settle back down, your hand feeling his hard length throb as he focuses on bringing himself back from the edge.
“My love, my love, my love,” he hums, “The way you can break me but always put me back together it’s” he holds back a moan, the back of his head now resting on the back of the couch, “div-”
“Gris…you already used that word. Find another one.” You slowly stoke him as you guide him back down. His thoughts almost taking him too far.
Grisham chuckles, “It’s…umm…ambrosial…” His brings his head back up, “Oh fuck…” You feel his fingers gripping down again in your hair. His mouth agape as he looks at you.
You smile as you slowly watch him unravel, “Ambrosial?” you hum, “How...delightful Gris…”
He nods as he tries to hold back. His brows furrowing at your touch. A deep hum leaving him as he curls his fingers more into your hair.
And at that point, you stop. Your eyes moving up to his, his body relaxing a bit as you, yet again, denied him his release. His length now begging for it as it jolts before you.
You give him a smirk, “If this is getting to be too much, just say the magic word.”
Grisham nods as he slowly catches his breath. His hands leaving your hair.
You bring yourself up as you move your face closer to his. His flush, glistening, face smiling to you as you move close. But during the movement your hand brushes up against his length, it sending a jolt of pleasure through him. His eyes widening.
“I love you.”
You freeze. Your lips just centimeters away from his. His now elevated breathing warming your lips.
He doesn’t say anything and neither do you. But you can feel his body beginning to tense up under you as these words were new for the both of you. And for how long you’ve known Grisham, not exactly how you were expecting him to say them to you.
Grisham exhales loudly, “Oh, well, I clearly got caught up in the moment there didn’t I?”
Your brows knit closer together for a second, but you just nod.
He clears his throat, “Not exactly how I wanted to say it to you for the first time, but it is true, I do love you.”
Your shoulders relax as an amused chuckle leaves your lungs, “I guess my edging was a bit too successful then. Wasn’t it?”
He brings his hands up to cup your face, “Very successful if you ask me.”
You lower your eyelids a bit, “Well if we’re both getting things off our chest due to the heat of the moment, then you know…there is this possibility that I might…maybe…love you too.”
Grisham grabs for one of your arms as he brings you to him, “Is that so?”
You nod, “Possibly, it’s just that,” you sigh loudly, playfully, making sure he gets the picture, “oh if only I could be in that heat of the moment when I get to say it as well.”
Grisham presses his lips into yours with such a force that you try to yelp but you have to do it through your lips. And with practiced ease he has your back on the couch. His arms holding you down.
“It would be my pleasure to get you there as you’ve done a magnificent job this evening getting me ready for you.”
Your face grows red, your eyes slowly moving away from his.
“Oh but, my love,” you move your eyes back to him, “Be sure to say it loud enough that all of our neighbors know how you feel about me.”
“GRIS!” You press your palms to his chest as you chuckle. And while you did protest at the beginning, over the course of the evening it was very, VERY clear to all of your neighbors that you really do love Grisham.
Griselle grabs your wrist as her back arches from the bed. Her other hand grabbing for the sheets as you continue getting her to the edge.
“Getting close again?” You coo as you bring your lips close to her nipple. “You always love to arch your back when you get close. Letting me get a much better look at you.” You hum, your tongue slowly making circles around her, now hard, nipple thanks to your work.
“Shut up you’re ruining it for me. I need to focus.”
You take your tongue back, a chuckle leaving you, “So mean when I deny you what you want.”
“You’re doing it again. Just keep your mouth shut. Find something to suck on.” Her words trail off. Her breathing picking up again.
“I can get a toy if you want. But again…then I don’t get to feel…you.” You move your face back up to hers.
She was holding back. Her moans were stuck in her throat as she held on. Held back from releasing. For even in a situation like this, she was still in charge. But you in theory still had the upper hand.
“If you say the magic word I’ll be sure to get you to cum. But until then,” you pull back from her. A heavy, slightly playful sigh leaving your lungs, “I’ll just leave you how you are. My fingers all yours until you’re tired.”
Griselle scoffs, “Next time we do this you’re gonna be in my spot. For the love of Arceus you don’t shut up.”
You laugh, “Oh no…I’ll be quiet now. Hmmm” your eyes take her in. The way her body squirms next to you. Her chest dancing as she shakes from the built-up pleasure. The way her legs buckle when she gets to that sweet spot where you know if you don’t pull back, she’ll release. She always pretends to be so hard to read, yet, as she lays bare next to you, she was the sweetest book you’ve ever seen. One you’ve read a thousand times. And will do so a thousand times more.
You listened this time and stayed quiet for her. Letting her sharp breaths and occasional moans fill the room. But while she was holding back on her release, so were you. And well, at the moment even thing felt very…safe. So, you decided to change the pace a bit.
You take back your hand. Your body slowly moving over hers and that’s when you catch her eyes. They were wide and a little dilated from the built-up pleasure she was creating.
“What are you doing?”
You hum as you lean down. A trail of kisses coming from you as you make your way south.
“Babe- what are you-”
You kiss her clit.
“Fuck”
And you let out another hum, “Wow you’re so sensitive down here. But just remember. As soon as you say the magic word I’ll give you that release you want.”
She holds back a moan as she presses her head into the bed. And as you move yourself in between her thighs you feel her nod. For words weren’t her friend right now.
You dive in, hungry, for her. Your tongue getting what it wanted as you circle around her bud. Getting her so close to the edge that she might suffocate you down here.
And as her hands find your hair, a rough pull, her back arches. She was on the edge again.
“Fuck babe,” her inhale was sharp, “I love you.”
You pull your head back. Her hands quickly softening their grip in your hair.
“Come again?” Your heart flutters as you heard her words crystal clear, but you knew exactly how she was reacting to them.
Her legs begin to curl around you, she mumbles as her back finds its way back to the bed, “Nothing…it was nothing.”
You rest your chin on her bush, “That’s not what it sounded like.” Your words vibrating into her.
Her fingers flex in your hair, as if she was composing herself.
You move your chin, giving her another kiss on her plush folds. Your breathing keeping her warm as you wait for her to speak again. But she was clearly being shy. So, you let out an exaggerated sigh as you lean yourself back. Your eyes falling back down to her folds as your fingers spread her apart again.
“Did my lovely Elle forget the magic word?”
She huffs, “No I didn’t.”
You smile, “So then…what were those words for? Are you telling me how you really feel?”
She squeezes her legs around you in annoyance, “Just go back to what you were doing. Stop ruining the mood.”
You chuckle, your smile not leaving your face, “Alright Elle. Alright. I will. Only because I love you too.”
Her body sinks into the bed and while you can’t see it, her smile was just as big as yours.
“We are not doing this here, You’re insane.” Mable protests a little as she crosses her leg over your hand.
“But it’s just us here. And come on, it will be fun.” You roll your chair closer to hers, your head now resting on her shoulder as your hand continues down below. Her wetness keeping your fingers nice and slick as you played with her.
“But I’m working…” Her soft hum clearly telling a different story.
You look down at her laptop, not a single new word typed in the last ten minutes.
“You sure? For you really haven’t elaborated on why area seventeen should get turned back into a park.”
She hums, her eyes closing as your fingers find her bud. “Fuck you’re the worst.”
Her dress was now pushed up to her hips, her underwear now down by her ankles as you moved yourself in between her legs. Your already slick fingers finding their way back in between her folds as your thumb made circles around her sensitive clit.
“Just sit back and enjoy, you deserve a break.” Your free hand gently moves up and down her calf.
“I don’t know what sort of break means you getting me close only to stop. For it’s been more like torture.” Mable presses her head back into the chair, her heels lifting from the floor as your movements get faster.
You smile, an amused chuckle leaving your lips as you watch her squirm in her chair. Her protests getting pushed down quickly each time you get her to the edge, only to stop so she could come back down. Her breathing now elevated as she tries to compose herself.
“Your magic word for tonight will be…” You look around the room, “Sycamore…”
Mable pushes out a loud laugh, “Fuck no.”
You chuckle, “Alright, we’ll use the usual one,” you sigh, “you’re no fun, you know that right?”
Mable grabs your hair and pushes you into her. Your face now close to her folds, “I’m very fun, you’re just weird sometimes.”
You smile and give her a playful shrug, “I just keep things lively…”
“Lively my as-”
Your nose skims over her folds before you dive into her. Your tongue pressing into her with a bit of pressure. And after you’ve tasted her, your tongue settles on her clit. Fluid motions as you circle around her bud, your fingers going back insider her, but with a curl this time.
Mable lets out a moan as her feet quickly move from the floor, the ball of her feet pressing into the ledge of her desk. You spread her a little wider with your hands on her thighs as you push into her more. Her hands finding your hair again, her nails raking at your scalp as you push her to the edge again.
Your other hand gently moves up and down her thigh as you enjoy her. Yet you keep your ears open for her voice as you could only assume she would use the magic word soon. For you could feel her body getting closer and closer.
“For Arceus sake I think I…”
Was she going to use it? You dive in with more force.
“I think I…”
Its gonna be the next word.
Her voice goes quiet, almost a whisper, “I think I love you…”
You pull back, your thumb wiping off your bottom lip.
“Mable?”
She doesn’t look over to you. But you can see just how red her face has gotten.
“What did you say?”
She turns her head more, refusing to make eye contact with you.
You bring yourself up to her, your face just inches away, “Did I finally get you to say…I love you?”
She huffs, “No…”
And fuck…you were really enjoying this too much now. For Mable only got like this around you and that alone was special. She was always so quick to put up a wall, but around you, all of her emotions shined. And you loved it.
You move your hand up to her chin, your fingers pressing into her skin as you turned her to you, “Well if my Mable can’t say it again, I will. For I love you too, sweetie.” And before you can watch her cheeks light up you place a tender kiss on her lips.
She hums into you and you smile up against her. And as you pull away you can see the softness in her eyes as she finally got the courage to push out those words.
“So, with that out of the way…where was I again.” You move back down in between her legs, “That’s right, making sure my love gets the perfect release this evening. So, with that said…” Mable lets out what almost sounds like a shriek when you dive back into her. Her clit so overly sensitive that you were certain she was going to cum immediately. But luckily you got to pleasure her for some time before she finally let go. Another ‘I love you’ slipping from her lips when you finally got to go over the edge.
“Quiet, or they will hear you on her stream again.” Your hand moves with a steady rhythm up and down Tarragon’s hard length. “You need to hold back those moans, alright?”
All Tarragon could do was nod. For you were on your knees, your body blocked by the desk as he slowly melted into his chair. Luckily the front door was locked, but there was still a bit of anxiety mixed into this as Canari was streaming and many of his higherups had a key that could unlock that door.
But he joked about it. About you edging him with that thrill. And well, it seemed as though for a second he forgot who he was dating. Because you sure did love living on the edge. And bringing people there with you was beyond intoxicating.
“You know, I question why we lock that door when so many people have a key.”
Tarragon grunts as you tighten your grip around him.
“And also, if you get too loud Canari’s stream will for sure hear you. Remember last time?”
Tarragon sits up a bit, his head hanging low as he focuses on his pleasure.
“But don’t you dare go completely silent on me.” You smirk as he lets out a heavy breath paired with a smile.
You give him a minute to catch his breath before starting another round. This time the stakes a bit higher as you were planning on using your mouth. And when you get the nod from him you quickly take in his length. Your lips meeting his rough bush each time you sink into him. Your one hand cradling his balls as you lustfully lose yourself on him.
“Fuck…fuck…”
You bring your head back up. Your lips and mouth already missing him. But again, you can’t let him break too early.
“Just say the magic word and we’ll finish this up nice and quickly. Until then I’ll just keep edging you until I hear that word.” You smirk as you bring yourself back down to him. His length throbbing for more stimulation. But instead of diving in you took your tongue and slowly, methodically, ran it up his shaft.
He inhaled sharp, loud, low, and your ears perked. Because you knew that this was going to be his tipping point. For that magic word should be slipping from his lips at any moment.
“Mmm, shit, fuck…” He threw one of his hands onto your shoulders, his fingers gripping down tightly, “I-fucking…love you.”
You freeze. Your tongue still pressed on his length when your eyes slowly move up to his. His fingers releasing a bit on your shoulders, his eyes now wide as he looks at you.
You pull yourself away, “Umm…”
He moves his other hand to your shoulder, slowly pushing you back a bit farther. He sighs, “Sorry, sorry, I just got- I mean you just got me so worked up.” He shakes his head, his eyes quickly softening when he moves them back to you, “But my jewel…” Your brows furrow a bit, “I won’t deny that I have fallen for you, and well, it was a matter of time before those words left my lips.” He chuckles, one of his hands moving to his beard as he plays with it out of nerves, “And I will say, even in my old age I thought I’d be sayin those words to you in a more romantic setting, but well…I guess my heart refused to hold back this time.”
You smile as you nod because of course, in Tarragon fashion, these hot, steamy, moments between you two always somehow turned oddly romantic. And well…you’ve very much grown to adore that about him.
CLICK
You both look over at the door. The handle slowly moving, your heart now racing. It was quick as he pulled you by the arm, quickly moving both of you into his private office. He shoves you down onto the cot and waits for his team to pass through.
He sighs, “Next time maybe we should just start in here. I forgot how short their lunch breaks are.”
And as your heart raced, you found yourself only looking at him. Only thinking about him. “Hey, Tarragon?” He turns to look at you, “I love you too.”
He quickly shifts the lock on the door and smiles at you. His steps slow as he moves his way over to the cot, his eyes growing a bit dark as he looked at you. His length still as hard as ever causing you to grow flush, a smile spreading across your lips. “Is that so my jewel?”
You nod as he gets himself on the flimsy mattress with you, his hands guiding you to where he wanted you to be. And after he moves on of your legs over his shoulder he smiles, “Well that sure is music to an old man’s ears. But my jewel, listen.” You let out a small whimper under him, “it’s now your turn to be quiet.”
Your breath catches, and after he moves himself inside of you, he leans over you. “Can you do that for me?”
You shake your head back and forth and he sighs.
“Well then,” his hand comes up to cover your mouth. The smell of grease and metal taking over your senses, “Just be sure to tap my shoulder if it get to be too much. For you’ve really riled up this old man and if I don’t get all this pent-up energy out, oh well that wouldn’t be good for my health, would it?”
Your brows and eyes grew and soon your loud moans were being muffled by his hand. The cot slamming into the wall as he made sure all that energy you built up would be gone by the time he was done with you.
