#I think the judge should make more appearances. I want him. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keferon · 3 months ago

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Part 2 of Golem!Prowl AU!

_____________________

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Part 1. Next->

The fic under the cut⤵️

Orion looks...sick. Worried. Scared.

“Prowl, do you know what the Great Hunt is?”

Prowl tilts his head keeping up with the lists he received from the Council.

“Traditional raids on monsters made to consolidate control over the land holdings of regular Mechs.”

Orion rubs the bridge of his nose

“It's a massacre.”

Prowl twitches his wing.

“It is a measure of intimidation against creatures that cannot be negotiated with. Brutal, I don't deny that, but experience shows it works. The destructive activity of monsters lessens considerably if they know their actions can be followed by punishment.”

Orion stares at him. For a long time. Silently.

Tensely studying him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“You think killing them instead of finding a compromise is...right?”

Prowl thinks he must be treading on unstable ground.

“I think it works. That is all. Monsters do a lot of damage with their existence. They kill, destroy and pillage. If periodically reducing their numbers reduces their damage, it confirms the effectiveness of the strategy.”

“They just want to live. Primus' sake, they want to eat.”

Prowl sighs. More for appearances than for any real effect.

“I suppose I can't judge them for wanting to survive. It makes sense.”

Orion nods.

He looks oddly pensive.

“Ratchet keeps picking up wounded...” he stammers, apparently trying to find a suitable alternative to the word monster “...wounded beastformers. I've been to his house. It's generous, but I'm afraid of what will happen if he gets caught doing it.”

Prowl frowns

“He should have stopped.”

“You wouldn't understand.” sighs Orion ”Him. Shockwave. We want to help. To make things better. I don't need you to chide me for disobeying the rules, I need you to figure out how to change them. Ghosts and insecticons deserve freedom as much as we do.”

“But...”

Orion looks at him angrily.

“No. Whatever you're going to say in response to that. No. I know you're driven primarily by logic, but I need you to remember it well. All sentient beings deserve to live free. Do you understand? All of them. Period.”

Prowl rolls up the lists and interlocks his fingers in front of him. There are small scuffs on his thumbs and index fingers from constant writing. He occupies himself with running his fingers over them, feeling the difference in texture.

“Mech's freedom in such a case ends where someone else's hungry jaws begin. You can't expect monsters and Mechs to just coexist in peace if you give them freedom.”

“No” sighed Orion ”That's why I support Shockwave's idea with creating an academy for magically gifted Mechs. He's helping to show the world that so-called 'dark creatures' can be as civilized citizens as any Mech. He teaches them to find that compromise. We can't just expect centuries of hate and fear to be forgotten once the laws change. We must direct this process. To help the Mechs understand and accept each other. Guide them, you might say.”

Prowl feels a headache coming on, as it always does when Orion requires him to logically solve a problem the answer to which lies in the feelings rather than the intellect. He's not built for this. It irritates him.

Orion stops right in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me what you think of this. If...let's pretend for a second that my morality fiddles don't matter anymore. That the problem of Mechs and monsters coexisting is something you alone need to solve. And solve it in such a way that the outcome is optimal for us as a society. To maximize the number of happy citizens. What would you do?”

Prowl is silent for a moment.

Orion squeezes his shoulder lightly before continuing.

“'Free from my judgmental conclusions, Prowl. From the standpoint of pure logic. What should we do?”

What to do...Prowl's thought process finally finds a direct and understandable train of thought. Monsters make up a paltry few percent of the population of all living Mechs. The numbers fluctuate depending on which region is being considered of course.

In some cities, some types of monsters are considered just fancy Mechs. Some monsters have risen from the status of savages to being respectable Mechs over the course of history. Even Orion's best friend, Shockwave, could be regarded as a mystical creature in some regions due to his gift of flight.

Nevertheless. The percentage is still minuscule.

But even that tiny percentage takes a significant toll on the economy and quality of life, because just one uncontrollable creature can terrorize an entire city.

He notes the weight of Orion's hand on his shoulder. Not judgmental. Orion promised he wouldn't judge.

“I'd get rid of the monsters.”

“Oh” Orion blinks ”Locked them in cages? Chased them away? Killed them?”

Prowl twitches his wings

“Banishment will only move the problem in terms of space, and imprisonment isn't secure enough. It would make sense to get rid of the monsters. Once and for all. It wouldn't be pretty or merciful, but it would greatly improve life for everyone, at the cost of a tiny percentage of living beings who were already of no use.”

“And you believe that would be a good outcome?”

“I believe it would.”

“But you're not a Mech yourself.” Orion reminds “Would you be willing to be exterminated along with the rest of the creatures if your plan were put into action?”

Prowl tilts his head slightly. Just to make it easier to look at Orion.

“You created me to, as you put it, help you make the world a better place. Sometimes in order to improve something you have to cut out the factors that get in the way. It's simple logic.”

“You didn't answer my question” Orion points out ”How would you feel if I decided to take your advice and destroy all mystical creatures, including you?”

“I am not made to feel” straightens Prowl ”My job is to find solutions to problems. I gave you a solution.”

“You don't include yourself in the reckoning.” snorts Orion “Again. You talk as if you will never be affected by anything.”

As it should be, Prowl thinks. He's a conscientious worker and a ..seemingly law-abiding citizen. He does what he can to make Mech's lives better. Even though he may not be a Mech, he's doing the right thing. Why would something happen to him?

Orion removes his hand from his shoulder and shakes his head.

“'Alright. I've heard you. But I want to make it as clear as possible - what you suggested is immoral, cruel, and should never be implemented. Do you understand me? Never. If you want to build a better world, you cannot and will not build it on other people's deaths. Have I made myself clear enough?”

“Perfectly clear.”

“Good.”

-----------------

Ratchet looks...many words could be used to describe him.

He's standing in the center of the trial room with a lot of emotions written all over his face. But if Prowl had to describe - he'd say Ratchet practically radiates rage. Not violent. More of a powerless one.

The rage of a Mech who knows he's cornered, but refuses to even consider giving up and admitting defeat.

Prowl sits in a far dark corner, silently documenting the whole process.

The council is furious. They apparently discovered that Ratchet has been dragging wounded monsters to his house and healing them all this time.

Which is ... very much as expected from Ratchet.

Prowl wants Orion here, but both Orion and Shockwave are now on a diplomatic mission a few days away, so the only support Ratchet has is...Prowl. Who can't help in any way, so he just sits there and meticulously documents the whole process so that Orion can then be informed of every single detail.

The council doesn't look happy. They say that Ratchet is sabotaging the hunters' efforts to contain the monsters by his actions.They are angered by Ratchet's absolute determination to insist that he was doing the right thing.

Prowl would be impressed, if only Ratchet's stubbornness made sense.

It's simple math. Ratchet saves lives. Monsters take them.

Thus Ratchet's life has much, much more weight and is more valuable.

If Ratchet would just accept the Council's decision now and promise to stop curing monsters, the whole problem would be solved as efficiently as possible.

But Ratchet, of course, persists. Probably just because that's his nature.

Ratchet can also afford to be so stubborn because his skill level makes him incredibly valuable to the Council. Prowl knows for a fact that if any other medic were in Ratchet's shoes right now - they would have been sentenced to banishment or execution by now.

When Ratchet realizes exactly how the Council caught him, his rage is instantly replaced by shock.

This revelation is enough to startle him and make him back down. To nod and numbly swear that he will end his "blasphemous hobby."

Prowl carefully folds the scribbled scrolls into the case as the Council doors close behind both his and Ratchet's backs.

“Orion will be happy to know that you were prudent enough to avoid death.”

Ratchet shifts his gaze to him

“You knew? Knew they could see through our optics? Did you know they could find out anything about any Mech at any time?”

Prowl tucks his hands behind his back and nods politely

“Knowing things is my job.”

Ratchet sighs. Heavy. Exhausted. Doomed maybe.

“How does Orion deal with it...”

“Orion has a reputation with the Council. They consider him a decent, law-abiding Mech, so they see no point in keeping tabs on him.”

“Are you kidding?” Raetchet raises his eyebrows “Orion can't do everything he does and remain ‘decent’ in their eyes. He and Shockwave practically cuddle with every possible creature every day and all they get is a little reprimand????”

Prowl tilts his head

“Orion learned to look away in time. And he has me for everything else.”

Ratchet doesn't answer him. He rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly and starts to walk away.

His shoulders look oddly tense. He looks defeated, but not in the way a Mech would describe a slain turbofox. No. There is a deep-seated, angry determination.

A willingness to act dictated by desperation.

The news of the surveillance has thrown Ratchet off balance but not knocked him off his feet as the Council had hoped.

Prowl looks at his back and walks off in the opposite direction. The problems of living, feeling Mechs have always been and will always be mysterious to him.

Ratchet does what no one expects him to do.

He doesn't stage protests. He doesn't accept the verdict.

He leaves silently, taking with him only medical supplies and an old lantern.

The council is furious, turning over every stone in an attempt to find him, but all in vain.

Prowl's daily duties now include “keeping track of any possible news related to Ratchet.“

And then, no matter what he finds, report to Orion that he's found nothing.

Put on a little regular show for all concerned. Show the Mechs in the Council that Orion remains loyal and does his best to find and bring to justice any blasphemer whether it's a friend of his or not.

He is his purpose. But the more time passes, the harder it becomes for him to trace the path to the fulfillment of that purpose. He envies the golems whose only function is to scrub floors. Their lives are understandable. A clean floor is a temporary but easily attainable goal. They are happy to fulfill the goal for which they were created. And then they're happy knowing their job is done well, until the floor gets dirty again.

Prowl is walking towards his goal, but it's not getting any closer. He knows what he needs to do to get there, but the variables are constantly changing and he has to adjust his course of action each time according to new information, conditions, and Orion's opinion on them.

Politics is infinitely more complicated than mopping floors after all.

————————————

Orion doesn't turn around on him as they walk down the hall. But Prowl can physically feel the attention focused on him.

“Prowl. Did you know I was awarded today for my ''outstanding service'' by the entire Council?”

“I did not.

“They've gone through all the reports and discovered that according to the logs me and my mechs are performing excellently when it comes to eliminating mystical threats.”

“Congratulations.”

“It's funny that you feel the need to congratulate me too” Orion continues ”Because I certainly didn't give orders to eliminate anyone.”

Their pacing doesn't falter. They continue to walk calmly down the hallway as if nothing is happening. But Prowl can practically taste the increased tension.

“Prowl” says Orion “Why is the Council rewarding me for murder? And where are the Mechs they think I killed now?”

Prowl checks the scrolls. Not because he doesn't remember. Just to buy some time to formulate an answer.

“They were the inevitable casualties. I took charge of their destruction. On your behalf.”

“You know how I feel about killing.”

“I know.” nods Prowl for some reason. Why? Not that Orion can see it “I also know how the Council feels about Mechs showing suspicious activity. They would have started watching you as soon as they noticed you were letting monsters slip away from you suspiciously often.”

Orion...sounds... conflicted. He sounds struggling.

“You killed them.”

“I gave the order. As any other hunter would have done in my place.”

Orion stops so abruptly that Prowl doesn't catch the moment and bumps into his back.

“We're supposed to be better than other hunters Prowl! How can you still not grasp that concept!!!”

Orion looks furious. Prowl discreetly looks around.

Around them is a relatively empty hall. Windows covered by heavy curtains. The cleaning golems scurrying back and forth.

“I understand” he says “But let me remind you that you cannot test their trust infinitely. Your 'being better' rests on your reputation. And it's my job to make sure your reputation lives up to it.”

Orion looks at him...Prowl isn't even sure how to describe it. Usually he has to argue with Orion's logic, proving his point but this time...Orion is the one arguing with him.

It feels strange. Uncomfortable.

He's doing everything Orion wanted him to do, but for the sake of it he has to do something Orion can't stand.

Orion clenches and unclenches his fists helplessly. Rubbing the fabric of his cloak.

“Shockwave can save lives without killing anyone.”

“Shockwave is one unfortunate act away from serious consequences” shakes his head Prowl “His academy is looking more and more like his own small army every day. His students are not loyal to the Council, they are loyal to Shockwave. And the Council knows that. And will use it. And it won't be pretty when it happens.”

“No...” shakes his head Orion, not addressing anyone in particular ”No no no no no...”

Prowl can understand why Orion is upset. But he also knows he's right this time. Shockwave may look like a fine example of mercy, but he walks on the very edge of the law and any wrong move will instantly turn him from “out of the box thinker” to renegade.

The Council will come for his head and the Council will get his head because Shockwave will have nothing to prove his loyalty with.

Orion will. Prowl made sure of that.

Orion can bend the rules, can borrow the Council's trust, can do all sorts of reprehensible things. He can stumble and fall and then fall a couple more times and find that it doesn't hurt him because Prowl caught him even before he stumbled.

He did it at the cost of lives. Yes.

But Orion's life is far more valuable than the lives of monsters.

Society doesn't need monsters to become better, but society needs Orion. Monsters need Orion. Because if Orion is gone, no one else will care about his idealistic goal.

“Sometimes I forget how creepy you can be...” mutters Orion ”You're going to betray me sooner or later.”

“I could never betray you.” Prowl twitches his wing.

“You've successfully betrayed what I believe in.”

“It's fine with me if you hate me for it. As long as you are alive, safe, and can continue your quest.”

Orion falls silent.

He turns away to stare at a strip of light from a nearby window. There are beautiful, wrought iron grates that cast an intricate, curved shadow on the floor and walls.

A golem janitor hurries past them.

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Shockwave falls.

Prowl isn't there to see for himself, but a lot of rumors reach him. Lots. Lots of rumors.

The Mechs say the time of the Great Hunt has come.

They say that when the hunters arrived on the Academy's doorstep, Shockwave didn't let them in.

They say. He stood in front of the gates.

With sword in one hand and the Primus Covenant in the other, and declared that his school was a sanctuary for all living beings in need of protection.

Claimed that anyone who dared set foot inside with a weapon would have to go through him.

“And they retreated!” gestures Orion frantically ”They didn't dare test him! They backed away from the walls of the Academy. I don't know how many monsters were left alive in the forests that night, but none of Shockwave's students were harmed...”

Prowl listens with a healthy dose of wariness

“The Council wouldn't just let him do that.”

Orion begins nervously winding circles around the room.

“You're right, you're right. You're right now and you were right back then. They're going to bring him before the Court by tomorrow, and...”

“There's no chance of that ending well,...is there?" Prowl finishes his thought.

Orion looks pained

“They'll be going through everything he's been up to. Every forged document, every enrolled Mech who by all criteria should be considered a monster. Every time he sheltered them from the Council instead of destroying them. They'll realize what he's been doing and they won't like it at all.”

Prowl...trying to sound reassuring.

“Shockwave has tremendous support from his Academy. There's a chance the Council will be afraid of invoking their wrath and won't judge Shockwave too harshly.”

Orion continues to walk in circles

“You think so?”

“There is a good chance.”

Prowl finds Orion in Sickbay. Which is very disturbing and wrong, because Orion was supposed to be at the Trial. Supporting Shockwave and begging the Council to relent.

But Orion is in Sick Bay. When he shouldn't be.

And he's covered in ugly dark burns. From something Prowl can't recognize.

This is all wrong. It's all--

“What happened at the trial?”

Orion sounds. Startled.

“There was no Trial.”

“What?”

Orion sounds as if something inside him has cracked. In every sense of the phrase.

“The Trial hasn't even had time to begin. He...” Orion clutches his trembling fingers, hoping to still them, but it has no tangible effect. His shoulders are trembling.

He looks like his whole body could be torn apart with one careless touch. “They asked him if he would plead guilty to aiding and abetting dark creatures. All they had time to ask was if he realized he was wrong.”

An uncomfortable, prickly feeling settles in Prowl's mind.

"And?”

Orion squeezes his fingers so hard the creaking of hinges becomes audible.

“It...I...Prowl, his very spark began to ooze dark magic. It was horrible, it was like.. it was eating him from the inside. The entire courtroom became darker than night, many Mechs got burned. I've never seen anything like this before! He..It.. started attacking Mechs and destroying everything...it was like it went crazy...it attacked me and I had to...Prowl I had to fight it! I didn't...I'd heard about it happening but I believed until the last minute that I wouldn't have to face it...”

Gears of chaotic detail fall into place in Prowl's mind.

“Shockwave...turned into a demon...?”

Orion nods shakily

“The Council didn't even have a chance to sentence him or spare him or even sort out what happened.....

He stated that he did not consider himself guilty for what he had done and...Primus was the one who made the judgment before anyone else could...”

That's... terrifying really. For a number of reasons. Losing a close friend is awful, being subjected to such merciless punishment is awful, but also...

What sends a chill down Prowl's back is the moral implication that such punishment carries.

Orion, as if reading his thoughts, raises his gaze to him

“Is what we are doing...wrong? I don't...does Primus think helping monsters is worthy of punishment?”

Now that's a really reasonable question.

Shockwave would say that Primus is merciful and would never condemn a Mech for an act of kindness. But Shockwave ended up being condemned.

Ratchet would say that he doesn't care about Primus' opinion because Primus isn't real. But Ratchet isn't here.

Prowl wants to say that it doesn't matter whether or not Primus thinks they're wrong, what matters is that he can at any moment force his justice on any living spark, so his concept of right has to become Orion's too, or else he's doomed. But Orion is definitely in no state to have a philosophical argument. He looks shattered and Prowl almost instinctively is about to go and find Shockwave, but remembers that option is no longer available.

He's not made for this. Shockwave has always been the one to cheer Orion up on a bad day. Not Prowl, no. Prowl isn't sure what to do so he just sits down next to him and gently places a hand on Orion's shoulder. The one where he can't see the burns, so it shouldn't hurt.

“I don't. I'm used to always relying on your point of view as a reference for what's right and what's wrong.”

“I know” runs a shaky hand over his face Orion “But it's not like I'm perfect. I try, god, I try but just like with the logical part - my vision isn't flawless. Have I been...wrong all this time? Trying to disrupt Primus' intended vision? Maybe what I've been trying to fix never needed fixing. Maybe it's just me being so stupid and not understanding things maybe...???”

Orion cuts himself off mid sentence, realizing that he's started raising his voice and waving his arms around again. He sits back down on the medical bed and curls back up into a miserable ball.

“What should I do....”

“I don't know,” Prowl repeats awkwardly.

He is his goal. But his goal ..doesn't exist anymore?

He doesn't know where to put himself.

Golems are made to fulfill requests. But Orion's request system has been evolving and complicating for so long that Prowl can't tell where its boundaries are anymore.

He feels lost.

——————————

Orion stops cold.

“What...”

Prowl, standing at his right hand looks equally puzzled.

They are in a spacious courtyard bordering directly on the Council building. It's a very beautiful, open and spacious place because it was originally built with large crowds of Mechs in mind. There's wide walkways, a massive circular plaza with fountains and statues.

And right now, it's filled to the brim with Mechs, most of whom Prowl is seeing for the first time. They're all wearing knight armor and carrying weapons, however still kept in their scabbards.

They look like a small army. A very, very diverse army, Prowl realizes. Because there are almost no regular Mechs among them.

Orion looks... distraught.

Mechs? Monsters? A few knights separate and come closer, bowing their heads respectfully.

“Orion Pax.”

There is so much grief and disbelief in Orion's eyes that it physically hurts to look at him.

When he begins to speak his voice sounds hoarse, like someone has poured sand down his throat.

“What...what are you doing here...?”

The knight standing in front of everyone ceremoniously places his palm on his spark.

“We are here to fulfill the last will of our mentor and your friend. Shockwave has decreed in his last will that in the event of his death his legacy must pass to you and those of us who wish to carry on his work must publicly pledge our allegiance to your will.”

Orion clutches his hands together to keep them from starting to shake again.

“But...I was there. I...your mentor was slain by my hands...how can you..."

"It doesn't matter. Everything that was his is now yours." smiles the knight sadly "We will make sure his legacy lives on. And even if the Academy falls - you can always count on us."

At the same time as he finishes speaking, the knight in blue armor drops to one knee, pulling Shockwave's sword from its sheath and holding it out respectfully to Orion... who looks like he's about to start crying.

He dazedly accepts the sword, twitching in surprise when it turns out to be heavier than expected and probably tries to say something, but all that comes out is a short sorrowful sigh.

He just.

Clutches the sword to his chest, watching in disbelief as all the arriving mechs get down on one knee following the blue knight. There aren't that many mechs, but at this point - they seem to rival the sea.

Prowl knows some of them. Many of them made their way to Shockwave after Orion found them. There's the harpy over there who nearly ripped Orion's head off the first time they met. A few ghosts he can remember the faces of but doesn't know the names. He'd had a long argument with Orion that day, trying to convince him that he shouldn't take their word for it when they promised to make it up to him.

And now they're all here. In beautiful new armor. Executing their mentor's last will and testament.

Just like regular Mechs, only a little eccentric looking.

The crowd of hunters that has come to find out what's going on looks as speechless and dumbfounded as Orion.

" What" Orion also gets down on one knee to be on the same level as the knight "what's your name?"

Prowl squints warily from behind Orion's shoulder. The blue mech looks normal, but to be honest, there's no way someone coming out of the Shockwave Academy is going to be an normal plain mech. There has to be a catch somewhere.

"My name is Skids," smiles the knight shyly. "I am...was...Shockwave's best student."

"You are very brave Skids" smiles Orion sorrowfully "I promise to do my best to take care of Shockwave's legacy. And you."

Orion drops his head on the table tiredly.

"This is crazy..."

Prowl pulls an important document from under Orion's head

"It's also quite devious. Shockwave told them specifically to swear to you where all comers can see it. So there's no way for the Council to accuse you of purposely swaying an army of monsters to your side. Everyone saw that this gift was given by force. Now you have many allies with unique skills who are loyal to you and the Council won't try to take them away because they are firmly convinced that you are loyal to the Council."

Prowl examines the document for damage before setting it aside.

"It is..."

"Shockwave gave you an opportunity."

"And I don't know what to do with it!" raises his head Orion "Shockwave was smarter than me and made a lot of plans in case of...I don't know...anything?? I didn't...Prowl. We've been down this path for so long and I was always sure there would be something good at the end of it. Or at least better than it is now..."

Orion rubs his chin and shakes his head awkwardly

"...But if there's only the wrath of Primus and endless darkness at the end...I can't ask anyone to follow me there. I'm not sure if I can keep going myself..."

He sighs helplessly

"I'm not even sure if that even matters."

"The chance that Shockwave would try to use you in some way was about twenty-eight percent."

Orion twitches

"What?"

"I understand that you're hurt by his...fate." Says Prowl "But have you considered the possibility that Shockwave was being punished for betraying you rather than the Council?"

Orion doesn't even answer at first. Just looks at him dazed and bitter.

"Prowl...no. He couldn't have."

"I'm just speculating" shrugs Prowl "Shockwave was punished but as far as I know God didn't bother to name the exact charge. We don't know one hundred percent what exactly caused his...sentence. He may have betrayed the Council's ideas, or he may have betrayed yours."

They both just exist in silence for a while. Processing the information.

"If...and I mean if!!! If Shockwave was convicted of harboring monsters, then everything we've been doing all this time can be considered useless blasphemy..." says Orion slowly "...but if he was punished for something else..."

"...then that would mean there's nothing wrong with your idea." finishes Prowl.

Orion frowns

"It would also mean that Shockwave lied to me..."

Prowl nods. The situation is ugly no matter which way you look at it.

Shockwave, as Prowl knows him, would hardly have framed Orion, but Mechs tend to go to great lengths to avoid execution.

If Shockwave had shifted some of the blame to Orion then, it would have partially saved him. Was that what he was going to do? Was this what Primus had stopped him from doing?

Orion's finials twitch slowly

"I don't know Prowl. I don't know what to do. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of my fantasies."

Orion is hard to read, but right now he's an open book.

Prowl tilts his head

"You're scared."

Orion looks. Defeated. Crumpled.

Discolored.

" I am."

Prowl can't work with that. He's used to solving logical problems and making lists and strategies.

He doesn't know how to get someone to stop being scared.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't know." mutters Orion "I don't know, I have no idea. It's too much...All these new knights, this whole council situation and now you're also saying that the mech I treasured the most could actually be a liar and...just leave me alone."

"But..."

"Just go away!" shakes his head Orion "Go find something else to do, find a hobby, I don't know! Get out of my head and out of my personal life!"

Prowl nods silently.

Places a couple papers in their places and silently walks out the door.

Gestures a greeting to some mech passing by.

And is completely unsure of what to do with himself.

Orion's too stunned by everything that's happened to give him a clear purpose. And without a purpose, he...he's gone.

He continues to stand by the closed door.

A thought runs obsessively through his mind.

If Shockwave was sentenced for something no one knew about, then punishing him the moment of that trial was a truly terrible decision and even worse timing.

But if Shockwave was sentenced for helping monsters...Prowl isn't sure why his mind resists the idea.

Maybe he's not being objective because he shares Orion's views and aspirations.

Maybe because he has looked at the entire square filled with dangerous monsters and has seen nothing but sorrow and respect in them.

The idea comes naturally.

Then God must be wrong.

He looks at the cleaning golems again. He envies them.

They are peace and contentment.

They are a clear and simple goal.

Probably the biggest stress that happens to them is random mechs passing by and interfering with their cleaning.

And then there's Prowl, standing by with no meaning or purpose and wishing he could throw something heavy because the one who gets in his way is an indefinable force of nature and a complex system of values and beliefs created by millions of years of cultural development....

But Primus can't stop him, can he?

Prowl is not alive. He has no emotion so that his intentions can be categorized as evil, but more importantly he has no spark so that its magic can turn him into a demon.

He is his purpose. His purpose is his god. And Primus stands in his way.

He turns around and walks away.

#maccadam #transformers #tf mimics au #prowl #Prowl’s beef with God #Orion pax #shockwave #senator shockwave #Ratchet #Skids #Oh no Prowler #Orion doesn’t want you around right now #go find someone else 👁#I’m done with Prowl’s backstory. Now you know how he thinks so #when you see him being weird later you will know exactly what is wrong with him haha #also eheheh. the great hunt lore #the reason there was almost no foxes in Ratchets part of the story #I have a lot of thoughts about religion and all the ways it fucks people up

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joonie-beanie · 1 year ago

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A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]

Summary: Iudex Neuvillette has been acting a little...strange, as of late. Worried about him, Sigewinne and Wriothesley come up with a plan to help lessen his load. “I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.” Well, being Neuvillette's assistant for a week shouldn't be that bad. Unless, of course, the reason Neuvillette has been acting strange is due to the fact that he's actually a dragon that has regained his full power, and now, with the return of said power, his body is experiencing things he's never known before now. Because that would be totally crazy...right? Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Rut, fem!reader Word Count: 10.8k Note: this occurs after "Doctor's Orders"

Sigewinne is the first to hear the rumors about Iudex Neuvillette—although Wriothesley isn’t far behind.

The first indication that something might be wrong with the Iudex is brought up in a letter—one penned by Sedene that is delivered to Sigewinne. In the letter, Sedene writes that since Fontaine has overcome its disaster, everything has been going well…except, Neuvillette has been behaving a little…strange.

Sedene does not elaborate on what exactly is wrong, and Sigewinne assumes that’s because she doesn’t know. Melusine have the ability to sense things, but the things they sense aren’t always accompanied with an answer.

And so, Sigewinne writes back telling Sedene to make sure Neuvillette is staying hydrated (since she knows he has been particularly busy as of late), and that she’ll try and make a trip to see him soon, when she has the time.

The following day, a new batch of wrongdoers arrive in the prison, and along with them—some speculations about Fontaine’s supreme judge.

“I think I deserve a retrial,” one of the men says, clearly frustrated. “I stated my case, but then Iudex Neuvillette actually blanked, and had to ask me to repeat myself! After I said everything so eloquently! That’s why I’m down here, man. I was so surprised by it that when I said my argument again, I sounded lame…this sucks.”

Listening from behind a nearby pillar, Wriothesley frowns to himself.

Neuvillette getting distracted in court? Well, that’s certainly a first—and a worrying first, at that.

Before the day’s end, Wriothesley and Sigewinne seek each other out. Equally concerned about what they’ve been hearing, they spend the evening coming up with a plan. Something they might be able to do to help Neuvillette.

The next morning, you wake up and get ready—prepared to go and spend a few days below ground in the Fortress…only to find Wriothesley on your doorstep.

“Hi,” he says with a smile when you pull your front door open.

Your eyes go wide, and you glance either way down the street, wondering if you’re being pranked.

When nothing seems suspicious, you reach out and touch Wriothesley’s chest to make sure he’s real.

He immediately rolls his eyes and snatches your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”

“Good—but, why are you here?” you ask.

Not that he isn’t welcome at your apartment, but…you just didn’t expect to see him here. On the surface. At your place of residence.

“Am I late or something? I thought we scheduled for me to come back to the Fortress today.”

“No, you are not late,” he reassures you. He gives your hand a little squeeze before allowing you to have it back.

“There’s been…a little change in your schedule.”

You cock an eyebrow at him.

“What kind of change?”

Does he want you to stay on the surface a few more days before coming back down? Considering he’s here, maybe he’s got some business on the surface, which would mean there’s no point in you going to the Fortress right now.

Wriothesley’s smile grows—little crow's feet appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.”

…

Huh?

“Here.”

Wriothesley grabs your bag—the one slung over your arm and packed with items that should have tied you over while you stayed in the Fortress—and tosses it back into your apartment.

Then, he gently grabs your waist, pulls you out onto the street, and closes the door to your apartment behind you. He checks the door to make sure it’s locked, and when he finds that it is, he nods in satisfaction.

“C’mon, keep up,” he says, starting up the street. His boots are heavy against the pavement.

Blinking, you finally snap out of it and jog to catch up with him.

“Hold on, you—you’re lending me to Iudex Neuvillette?”

You’ve never known the man to have an assistant, and from what you’ve heard from Wriothesley and others, he tends to prefer working alone. Aside from that, he’s very skilled at his job, and typically doesn’t need help—even with the never ending case load.

“...did he consent to this?”

Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.

“Not yet, but he will.”

The two of you turn a corner, heading towards an elevator that will take you up towards the Palais Mermonia. You narrow your eyes at Wriothesley. He waves you off.

“Sigewinne and I both heard that he seems a little…stressed lately. And we decided the best thing we could do right now, aside from giving him our support, would be lending him you. So, assuming he is in need of help, I don’t see why he would turn our offer down, considering how proficient you are.”

“While I appreciate the praise, I think you’re underestimating the pride of men,” you tell him, standing at his side as the two of you arrive at the elevator. Wriothesley hits the button to summon it to your floor.

“Hey, when I got busier than usual, I hired you,” he points out. You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I’m 99% sure the only reason you hired me was due to Sigewinne's influence. I bet she saw your stress growing and bugged you to get an assistant until you finally gave in.”

Wriothesley sighs.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart.”

You grin, holding your head high.

Finally, the elevator arrives on your floor. When the door opens, Wriothesley motions for you to board first. Then, he follows you on.

“So, let’s say Sigewinne did insist I hire an assistant. The result of doing so was positive. My work got easier, and my life improved. If we present that logic to Neuvillette, there’s no reason he should decline our help. Plus, he tends to listen to Sigewinne.”

You sigh, watching the city outside the glass doors of the elevator. You’re nearly to the floor the Palais Mermonia is on.

“If Neuvillette agrees that he wants the help, I have no issue being his assistant for the week.”

Wriothesley catches your silent drift of “you get the pleasure of trying to convince him to accept help, though”.

Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.

“Sigewinne and I appreciate your cooperation,” he tells you sincerely.

Arriving on your floor, the elevator doors open, and you step out first—standing aside to allow Wriothesley to walk past you and lead the way. A few gazes are thrown your way as you go—people surprised to see the Duke of the Fortress above ground for once—but Wriothesley doesn’t react, so neither do you.

Sticking by his side, you follow him up the steps and through the front door of the building.

“Duke Wriothesley,” Sedene greets as you near the doors of Neuvillette’s office. She runs up to the two of you, her eyes somewhat nervously shifting towards the office doors.

“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”

She wants to say that he’s not accepting visitors at the moment, but she can’t get the words out—obviously worried about him. Wriothesley flashes her a kind smile.

“Sigewinne sent us,” he tells her, relief immediately appearing on her face at his words. “Is Neuvillette in?”

“Yes, he is in,” she confirms, and then scuttles back over to her desk, only to return a moment later with a tray of tea (or, teacups and water?) in her hands.

“Take this when you go in, that should help.”

“I appreciate that,” Wriothesley responds. You reach down to take the tray from her hands, quietly thanking her as well. She flashes you a smile, gives you a thumbs up, and then goes back to work.

You and Wriothesley glance at each other. Seeing you’re ready, he raps his knuckles on the door thrice, and enters the room when Neuvillette’s muffled and somewhat reluctant “come in” is heard from beyond the door.

Gripping the handle, Wriothesley pushes his way inside. You dutifully follow after him.

Once in the office—the door shutting softly behind you—you quickly realize that perhaps something is wrong with the Iudex. Because for a man known for his neatness, and professionalism, his office is quite…untidy, at the moment.

Papers are scattered along his desk—piles uneven, and threatening to fall. And on the coffee table nearby, there are multiple cups, along with empty bottles of imported water. Not to mention books that are strewed around—some even on the floor.

Wriothesley takes quick stock of the state of the office before his gaze settles on Neuvillette, who is sitting at his desk. He's wearing his normal robes, and yet he looks…strangely disheveled. Perhaps it's the faint dark circles under his eyes, or the way his hair looks less kept than usual?

“I thought I instructed that there were to be no—oh, Wriothesley.”

Neuvillette's tone of measured annoyance softens the second he looks up and sees who it actually is that has entered his office. Then, he sighs, feeling ashamed of his initial attitude.

“I apologize. Did you request a meeting? I don't recall getting any correspondence about it, unless it was accidentally left off my calendar.”

“No need for apologies, Monsieur Neuvillette. I am the one who should be apologizing, as I did not reach out beforehand to let anyone know that I was coming.”

Wriothesley bows in slight apology, and you mirror him, figuring it's the right thing to do since you're technically also intruding.

“I know you're very busy, so I'll cut right to the chase to save us both time. Sigewinne and I are concerned about you, since we've both heard from multiple sources that you seem a little out of sorts as of late. So, in an attempt to help lessen your load, I'd like to offer you my assistant, Y/N, for the week.”

For the first time since you'd entered with Wriothesley, Neuvillette’s sharp eyes slide to you. You force a polite smile to your lips and—remembering the tray in your hands—move to set it on the nearby table.

Quickly filling one of the glasses with the water, you stride over to Neuvillette’s desk and offer it to him.

“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say.

“And you as well,” he responds, keeping up formalities.

Taking the glass from your hand, Neuvillette takes a long sip of water, and you scoot back to Wriothesley’s side. Once Neuvillette has finished his drink, he places the glass down on his desk and sighs.

“I assure you that I am alright, and there is no need for concern.”

“I hate to disagree, but based on the state of your office, I can't believe that's true.”

Neuvillette’s gaze slides around his office, as if truly seeing it for the first time in days. His brows pinch together as he realizes Wriothesley is right. He hadn't noticed it'd become so messy…

“I will admit I have been a little…scattered, lately. But it's nothing I cannot handle. Lending me your assistant would only increase the burden of your own workload, which I cannot accept.”

“Actually,” Wriothesley is quick to counter. “I hired Y/N before the disaster, because much of my time was occupied watching the primordial sea gate, and preparing the Wingalet. Now that the disaster has passed, and things have relatively calmed down, my workload has greatly lessened. Meaning, I have no issue temporarily lending her to you.”

Knowing Wriothesley is only willing to give you up temporarily—meaning he'll want you back to himself at some point—makes you happy.

“Be that as it may, I will still have to decline your offer.”

Alright then, time to break out the big guns.

“I know since Furina stepped down as the Archon, you've only gotten busier,” Wriothesley tells him, fixing him with a concerned stare. “And because of that, Sigewinne is worried. If you could just accept Y/N's help for the week, I'm sure that would help put her mind at ease.”

The mention of Sigewinne causes Neuvillette to frown, so Wriothesley quickly lays it on thicker.

“I assure you that Y/N has been a great aide to me,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “Sigewinne recommends her as well. If you allow her to help you for a few days, I have no doubt she’ll be of use to you. So please, Neuvillette.”

Neuvillette places his elbows on his desk and folds his hands together. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, he sighs.

“Fine. If Y/N is okay with this arrangement, I shall accept her help.”

Both men look your way. You smile.

“I’d be more than happy to help with whatever I can.”

Honestly, you hadn’t expected to find yourself here, and aren’t even sure what there is you can do to support him, but considering how tired he looks, you’ll surely try your best.

“Good! Glad that’s settled.”

With a happy grin—pleased that he has won the battle—Wriothesley turns to you. He cups the back of your head and drags you in—his lips pressing into your hair.

“I’ll come visit on Saturday to take her back into my care. Best of luck to you both,” he says, heading for the door. He waves his hand at you and Neuvillette over his shoulder, and without saying anything else, exits the office.

You stare at the closed door for a second, before you take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and turn back to Neuvillette.

…only to find that he’s fixing you with a peculiar stare.

“Are you and Wriothesley seeing each other…?” he asks.

Ah, right, the way Wriothesley had kissed your head before leaving…

“We are not,” you assure him, taking a few steps towards his desk. “Since entering his employment the two of us have just become…fond of each other.”

Which isn’t a lie. You and Wriothesley are quite fond of each other—fond enough that every time you go to stay in the Fortress, you find yourself in his bed at least once (and not just because Sigewinne has instructed Wriothesley to continue having sex to keep his stress levels down). And no, you’re not dating, but that’s fine. You enjoy what you have with him right now, and honestly, it’d be a bad look if anyone found out Wriothesley was dating his assistant anyway.

“I see,” Neuvillette nods, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “I apologize for presuming.”

“No need to apologize, Monsieur,” you respond, stepping up beside his desk. You smile at him—softer, and more genuine this time.

“Now, what can I assist you with?”

While it takes a short while for Neuvillette to adjust to the idea of having an assistant to help with things, soon enough, the two of you come to an understanding.

He admits that he has been struggling to juggle court cases and new paperwork that needs to be signed off on now that the judicial system is changing (thanks to recent developments). So, you put forth the idea to allocate time to signing documents, and while you run things where they need to go afterwards, Neuvillette can address any cases on his docket.

Not having any better idea, he goes with your plan.

While Neuvillette busies himself with signing paperwork, you flit around his office—cleaning up empty bottles and used cups, and putting abandoned books back on the shelves.

By the time you’ve finished organizing (taking your time to make sure everything is put back in its proper place), Neuvillette has finished reviewing his first stack of papers.

“These have all been signed off on,” he says, summoning you to his side. He points at the top right hand corner of the paper. “This area on each document will show you where it needs to be returned.”

“Understood,” you respond, taking the stack from him. You cradle the papers in your arms and leaf through the first few sheets while heading for the door. However, you quickly realize the documents aren’t grouped by which location they need to be dropped at.

So, you make a detour at the coffee table—gently sitting yourself on the sofa as you begin sorting the papers into smaller stacks, grouped by department. Once you’ve done that, you pile them all together again, and continue towards the door—unaware of the way Neuvillette’s lips tug into a smile at your actions.

Delivering documents where they need to go takes up the remainder of your morning, and by the time you’ve finished, your stomach is growling. So—figuring that Neuvillette won’t have stepped away from his desk yet—you decide to pick up something for the both of you.

“You've returned,” he says without looking up from the document in his hand as you step into his office. “I assume everything has been delivered?”

“Yes,” you respond with a nod, his gaze finally rising to look at you as he hears the sound of the bag in your hand, and smells the contents within. “And I grabbed us lunch. I assume you haven’t eaten?”

“I have not,” he confirms. His eyes watch you as you b-line for the coffee table and begin unpacking the take-out food. “I’m not sure what you like, but I figured I’d play it safe and go with soup, since you seem to enjoy…liquids.”

How else are you supposed to describe his taste when all you've seen him consume today is cup after cup of water?

Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.

Standing from his chair, he makes his way over, staring at the clear broth of the consomme.

“...I think I'm beginning to see why Wriothesley enjoys having you as an assistant.”

“Oh? Sounds like Iudex Neuvillette is becoming fond of me too,” you say—very jokingly. “You may have to fight Wriothesley for me later. Assuming I stay as helpful during the remainder of the week.”

You half expect Neuvillette to say say something about how a fight won’t be necessary, as you're only a temporary loan, and he shouldn't need help beyond this week anyway—but instead, he cracks a smile, grabs his portion of the consomme, and says—

“I'll have to keep that in mind.”

—before he returns to his desk and continues working through his lunch.

In the afternoon, Neuvillette remains immersed in paperwork and other documents. You mostly spend your time making sure he has enough water available to drink, and fetching him any books or materials he asks for, so he doesn’t have to step away from his desk and break his concentration.

It’s a dynamic that works, and already, you can tell his stress has lessened—now that he’s caught up on many tasks. However, there’s still the slightest pinch to his brow, and a tiny flush on the skin of his neck despite the fact that it’s not overly hot in his office (at least, in your opinion. But maybe all that hair of his is warm?).

However, you don’t bother overthinking it. It’s still your first day assisting him. It would be crazy to think he’d suddenly be stress-free after a few hours in your care.

When the clock strikes 5, Neuvillette doesn’t miss a beat.

“You may go home for the day.”

You blink, looking around for the time.

“...will you continue working?”

“Yes, but that isn’t out of the ordinary,” Neuvillette responds, taking a sip from the glass of water on his desk. “However, your station doesn’t warrant you working overtime. You should go home now and enjoy your evening.”

You suppose he’s right…there are some things you can’t really assist him with anyway. Plus, you still have four more days working under him.

“Alright then, I won’t argue with you,” you respond. You gather up what little things you had brought with you, and then head for the door. But, before you go, you turn back to him.

“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”

“9am will be fine.”

“Understood,” you nod, flashing him a smile. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Monsieur.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he responds in kind, watching you as you open the door and slip out of his office.

His gaze only lingers on the spot where you stood for a brief moment before he returns to his work.

The next day, you arrive at Neuvillette’s office at the agreed upon time, only to find that he’s getting ready to leave.

“I have some trials at the Opera Epiclese today,” he says. “You are welcome to join me.”

And really, who would pass up that offer?

So, without even setting your things down, you follow Neuvillette out of the building and to the Navia line—boarding an aquabus that will take you to the opera house.

Neuvillette garners a lot of attention as the two of you make your way to the building, but you do your best to tune out any stares or whispers. You think Neuvillette’s popularity among the people will never die.

“I have a guest today,” Neuvillette tells one of the staff members once you’ve entered the main hall. “Please make sure she is given a seat.”

“Of course,” they assure him, to which he nods. His eyes catch yours.

“I will find you once the trials are over,” he says.

“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.

“Luck is typically not required,” he tells you. You feel a little heat of embarrassment rise on your skin, but the smile that appears at the corner of Neuvillette’s lips assures you he’s only joking with you.

“Nonetheless, thank you.”

With that, he turns and heads up a staircase that will lead him upstairs to the judge’s seat.

You follow the staff member into the theater, still feeling a little warm.

As it turns out, Neuvillette has a full docket today.

From morning to afternoon, you spend your day settled into your seat in the theater—watching prosecutors and defendants present evidence and argue back and forth.The cases draw most of your attention, but your gaze still strays to Neuvillette every so often, just to make sure he’s alright.

And he seems to be…for the most part.

Once or twice, you notice that his eyes are unfocused—staring off into the distance, and not at the person who is speaking. And when a recess is taken for lunch, and Neuvillette finds you to invite you to partake in lunch with him, you notice that the flush on his neck has returned.

Silently, you wonder if he’s getting sick…although you’ve never heard of Iudex Neuvillette being sick before now.

You make sure to send him back up to his stand with an extra bottle of water (which he downs quite quickly. Then, he even motions for one of the nearby employees to bring him more, which…also must be a little strange, considering you see some people in the audience watching Neuvillette, instead of the “show”).

By the time his docket has been cleared, and the two of you take the aquabus back to the city, the work day is over. You and Neuvillette bid each other farewell, and you return home.

Your third day is spent helping Neuvillette finish up paperwork related to the cases from the previous day.

He remains flushed the entire time—the blush on his neck creeping up to his ears. He also begins sighing heavily every so often, and his requests for water become more frequent—to the point where Sedene, who guards Neuvillette’s stash of imported waters, even gets surprised by how quickly he’s going through them.

However, it’s not until the fourth day—when you see Neuvillette behind his desk, face flushed, sweat beading on his brow, and his official robes discarded due to how hot he is—that you finally have the guts to speak up.

“Monsieur,” you say hesitantly, remaining gentle despite the way his head nearly snaps up to look at you.

“Is it possible that you’re sick?”

Neuvillette frowns at the suggestion, as if that’s impossible, but…after a few seconds, he seems contemplative.

“Would you be able to go to the library and fetch me a book?” he responds without answering your original question. He writes the title down on a piece of paper for you, and you take it—unable to say no.

After a short trip to the library, you recruit the help of the librarian, who points you in the right direction, and—soon enough—you find what Neuvillette has asked for.

A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.

…huh.

Dutifully, you take the book back to Neuvillette after checking it out, and he thanks you—setting it off to the side until he has finished what he’s working on. It takes another hour or so, but finally, out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the book.

He flips through the pages until he finds the section he’s most interested in, and then he just…reads. For a while.

You keep yourself busy organizing paperwork in the meantime, and don’t pay him much mind. At least, until you hear a crunching sound.

Startled, you glance over at Neuvillette, only to find that his desk is cracked—his hand gripping it so hard that the wood has actually splintered.

You jump to your feet.

“Neuvillette—?!”

“Leave.”

There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.

“What—”

You’re unable to get more than a word out before his sharp eyes find you—his pupils like daggers.

“Leave,” he repeats, slightly more calm. Although, you swear you can almost hear a rumble in his chest.

Your heart sinks, worry blooming in your chest. Did you do something to upset him?

Seeing how your face twists, Neuvillette takes a deep breath.

“I apologize,” he says, his tone measured. His eyes meet yours for a long beat before he glances away, unable to look at you.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, and I appreciate your help until now, but I will no longer be needing your assistance. Please go home.”

Not understanding why he’s had a sudden change in demeanor, you want to prod him for answers about what’s going on, but…seeing the tenseness of his body, and the way his chest heaves, you decide to listen to his request.

Without further argument, you gather your things and quickly head for the door—only pausing to say one last thing before leaving.

“It was nice working with you, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips even though he refuses to look your way. “If you ever need my assistance again, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

The sound of the door shutting behind you is loud in Neuvillette’s ears, and once you’re gone, he finally lets go of his desk—chips of wood sprinkling the floor at his feet.

He attempts to take a deep breath to calm himself—but it has the opposite effect—his jaw clenching as his senses are flooded with the scents in his office, all of which seem more pungent than usual.

Leather book covers, fresh ink, Springvale water, his freshly washed robe, and a fleeting, sweet scent…

A scent that he wants to chase after.

He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.

Then, with shaking fingers, he picks up his pen and grabs a piece of paper.

As he drafts the notice of closure he intends to pass along to Sedene, a thunderstorm begins brewing outside his window.

On the morning of what should have been your fifth and final day in Neuvillette’s care, you wake up and find that you can’t simply let things be.

You do your best to distract yourself with whatever chores in your apartment need doing, but it doesn’t work. You can’t stop thinking about Neuvillette—the flush on his skin, and the way his eyes had looked when he’d commanded you to leave.

It had all just felt so…out of character. You can’t help but worry about him.

So, despite the thunderstorm that’s been raging outside since you’d returned home the evening before, you decide to go and check on him.

You bundle yourself up in a coat and shoes that won’t be ruined by the rain, and then grab your umbrella—heading out into the storm.

As expected, not many people are out, which makes traversing the streets quite easy. You ride the elevator up to the Palais Mermonia alone, running up the steps and into the building to escape the rain.

In your hurry, you miss the notice that’s been posted on the doors to the building.

Once inside, you close your umbrella and prepare an apology to Sedene for dripping all over the floor, but to your surprise, she’s not at her desk. In fact, there’s not a soul in sight—the lights off, and the hall empty.

You’ve never heard of the Palais Mermonia shutting down before…

You take a step back towards the entrance as lightning illuminates the room—figuring it’s best if you leave. But…

Your gaze strays towards the doors to Neuvillette’s office, and after a beat, your feet begin moving on their own.

Assuming Neuvillette is here (because it’s not hard to imagine him working, even if everyone else is gone), you want to make sure he’s alright.

So, you grip the handle to his office door, and quietly push your way inside.

A clap of thunder drowns out the sound of the office door clicking closed, and you take a step deeper inside, your eyes peering around the room.

In the darkness, you don't immediately spot anyone.

“Neuvillette?” you call out, just to be sure.

Before his name has finished leaving your lips, a shadow moves. Something rounding Neuvillette’s desk and heading towards you—snake-like eyes shining through the darkness.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you trip over your feet in a panic as you rush to grab the handle of the office door—hoping to throw it open and dart outside before whatever monster you’ve just walked in on is able to get to you.

And really—it has to be a monster. It’s quicker than you—quicker than a normal human—crossing Neuvillette’s office in less than a second.

A scaled hand slams against the door beside your head, and little sound of fear is ripped from your throat.

You're being prevented from leaving—the door not budging even when you try and discreetly tug at the handle.

Your chest shudders as you take a breath, and you squeeze your eyes shut, fearing the worst.

Even with your back turned, you know there's some sort of beast behind you. One that’s stronger than you. One that will probably end your life before you can beg for mercy—

“I told you not to return here.”

The sound of Neuvillette’s voice beside your ear causes you to jolt.

He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath on your skin, and while realizing that it’s Neuvillette who is behind you should be a comfort, it’s also…frightening.

You’re aware—like most Fontainians—that Iudex Neuvillette is not totally human, considering he has been presiding as the chief judge for more than a few centuries now, but…you’ve never seen him act like this.

“I…was worried about you. After yesterday,” you respond, finally finding your voice.

“I sent you away for a reason.”

His voice is deeper than normal—a rumble vibrating in his chest as he speaks.

His lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. Goosebumps rise on your skin and your heart races faster despite your best efforts to stay calm.

However, staying calm isn’t easy to do in this situation—especially when Neuvillette literally starts to glow.

The scales on his hand which you’d spotted early begin to softly shine blue in the dim light of the room—his nails curling and carving uneven lines into the wood of the door in front of you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, your breath hitching when his free arm suddenly curls around you. His forearm rests between your breasts, his palm splaying over your sternum, and you feel him take a deep breath—almost like he’s inhaling your scent.

“I was trying to protect you,” he says, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat. He can feel your pulse raising—your heart thundering in your chest.

You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.

“Protect me from what, exactly, Monsieur…?”

“Me,” he responds.

His words send electricity up your spine.

“The way I’ve been acting—the way I’ve been feeling recently—it’s very unusual, and something I’ve never experienced before,” he admits—his warmth bleeding into your back as his body curls around you.

“That’s why I had you retrieve that book for me when you questioned if I was ill. There was a small change in my…constitution, lately. One that only early generations of my kind have experienced. So I wanted to brush up on history, and see if I could find any clues. And I did.”

He takes another long breath, and you hear the wood of the door crunch as his grip tightens.

“Experiencing a lack of focus, increased appetite, increased body temperature, and increased sensitivity to certain scents are all signs of one thing. An impending rut.”

A rut.

The word hits you like a train.

“While having an assistant was a nice change, being around you only exacerbated the issue.”

He doubts you’d taken notice with how immersed you’d been in your own tasks this week, but Neuvillette has been watching you. The way you tuck your hair back when you’re reading, the way your ass looks when you bend down to gather papers, the scent of your perfume whenever you approach his desk…

At first, he’d been distraught by his own actions—not understanding why he was being so…improper towards you. But now he gets it.

His instincts have been itching for something to mate. And now that something is you.

Diligent, kind, and pretty…those traits, combined with being around you 8 hours a day, have made you an easy pick.

“That’s why I told you to leave. Why I closed down Palais Mermonia today—to spare anyone any trouble, and to try and deal with this on my own. But you just had to come back…”

The hand on your chest inches closer to your breast—fingers hovering above the soft mound of flesh—before Neuvillette catches himself, and backs off.

“I think I have enough willpower remaining to grant you one last chance,” he tells you, although his throat tightens as he speaks—as if saying such a thing pains him.

“I’ll release you, and when I do, run.”

Run.

Your instincts scream at you to do just that—the world moving in slow motion as Neuvillette takes a deep breath and takes a step back.

His hands retract, momentarily relinquishing their hold on you and the door.

All you need to do now is twist the handle and dart outside. To leave him here, and not look back.

You turn the handle, and the door inches open. Behind you, you swear you hear something akin to a whine becoming trapped in Neuvillette’s throat.

Despite his words, he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s only doing this out of consideration for you.

But…based on the way he’d spoken about his rut—the way he’d needed to read up on his symptoms to determine what exactly was going on—he’s obviously never had to deal with this before. And from what you know of ruts and heat cycles and the like, you doubt dealing with this alone will be enjoyable for him.

In fact, it will probably be painful.

Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.

You’re scared, but—

Slowly, you close the door—until it clicks, and you’re once again trapped inside the room with Neuvillette.

You can’t leave him here to suffer on his own.

Neuvillette’s arms wrap around you. His nails dig into your skin through your shirt.

“Why didn’t you leave, you—”

His frustrated voice cuts off, and you can only assume he wants to call you some silly name, but can’t bring himself to. Ever polite, even in this state of his.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, his long hair tickling your cheek. You reach up one of your hands and gently pet his hair.

“It didn’t feel right to leave you here. Alone,” you respond, and despite the way your heart is racing nervously, you still don’t regret your decision.

Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.

“I won’t be able to stop myself any longer,” he tells you. The truth in his words become apparent a moment later, when you feel his canines scrape your neck, and his pelvis grind against your ass.

The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.

“I know,” you say quietly. Your other hand gives his arm a little squeeze—a reassurance that you’ll be okay.

“This is wrong of me…”

The frustration in his tone is quickly melting into desperation, his lips incessant at your neck.

A quiet laugh leaves you.

“Wriothesley and I…we already do this kind of thing together. So…if it helps, consider it a part of my job.”

Truthfully, you don’t consider it to be a part of your job. What you and Wriothesley have is not born out of obligation (although, neither is this). But you’re sure hearing such a thing from you will help put Neuvillette at ease, considering his penchant for propriety.

And, of course, it does.

He takes a deep breath—

“Thank you—”

—and then immediately grabs your chin, and turns your head so he can kiss you.

The noise of surprise you make is quickly drowned out by his tongue. A tongue that is longer than a humans, considering it pushes into the back of your mouth—nearly forcing past your uvula and down your throat.

The intense kiss has you fisting your hands in his shirt, your eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to reciprocate, but with every passing second, you realize that will be impossible.

He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.

His barrage of sloppy, passionate kisses go on for what seems like forever—your head actually beginning to swim as your body fights for oxygen.

Only when the first, pathetic whine leaves your throat does Neuvillette remember he needs to allow you to breathe.

Retracting his tongue, a line of spit connects the two of you as you begin gasping for air.

However, Neuvillette is unable to wait for you to regain your bearings.

He grabs you by the backs of your thighs and hefts you into the air—your knees straddling either side of his torso as he carries you across his office, and over to the sofa.

He lays you down on the soft cushions, and you stare up at him, your skin flushed, eyes wide, and chest heaving.

He needs to see more of you. Needs to hear more cute sounds. Needs you all fucked out and stuffed with his—

Swooping down, Neuvillette captures your lips again. But this time, it’s more of a proper make-out—his lips melding against yours and your tongues rolling together as his hands trace your waist and settle near your hips.

You gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants. Then, a beat later, the hem of your panties.

Both items of clothing are in the way of what he wants.

In one swift move, he discards them both—stripping your lower half bare. He deposits your clothing on the floor beside the couch, and as he does so, he sits back—his gaze heavy with hunger as he admires you.

The intensity with which he regards you has you quickly feeling self-conscious, but before you can even think of trying to shield yourself from him, his hands are on your knees.

He pries your legs apart.

You can't help the little gasp that leaves you—your pussy throbbing with nervous anticipation as his fingertips trace up your thighs.

His palms settle on your hips, and again, a noise is ripped out of you as he forces your lower half off the couch.

As if you weigh nothing more than a feather, Neuvillette drags you down the couch to meet him—your spine curving as he continues to manhandle you—lifting your pelvis farther and farther off the cushions, until your ass is resting on his chest, and your legs are thrown over his shoulders.

His gaze angles sharply downwards, to your cunt. And for a second, the pressure he exudes is truly that of a dragon—one that could unhinge its jaw and swallow you in one bite.

But while Neuvillette does open his mouth, he doesn’t bare any teeth.

No, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign actually wets his lips before he leans down to meet you.

The first taste of his meal.

You can’t help but hold your breath—your fingers curling into the couch cushions beneath you as Neuvillette’s tongue nudges between your folds.

He traces his tongue up—circling your clit, and making you jolt—before dragging it back down to the spot where your arousal has started to pool. You can feel the pressure of his tongue as he presses it at your entrance.

And for a few seconds, he doesn’t move. He just sits there, silently allowing your taste—your essence—to wash over his tongue. But once he's sure that he's memorized the taste of you—committed it to his memory as a sinful pleasure he’ll surely relish in during the millennia yet to come—he gets down to business.

His tongue nudges between your walls, his nose brushing up against the soft skin of your pussy as he makes his mouth flush with you. And as he does so, you (foolishly) assume he's as deep as he can go. That the stretch of your cunt around his tongue will be good preparation for what's likely to come, and he'll simply lap at you until he's satisfied.

…of course, if he was a normal man, that might be the case.

You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.

“Oh, fuck,” you pant, hips jumping in his hold as his tongue suddenly thickens and elongates. It twists deeper inside of you, filling up your cunt wholly.

You've never felt anything akin to this before.

“Monsieur—,” you say, breathless. You can't even think of what you want to say to him.

His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours.

He says nothing, doesn't dare to take his mouth off of you to speak—not willing to let a drop of you go to waste. But, he does give your leg a little squeeze—a small reassurance, you think.

Then, his tongue starts to move.

He fucks it inside of you with precise control—rolling it up against different areas inside of you until he locates that one special spot that makes you gasp. Your thighs tighten around his head, and your pussy clamps down on his tongue, causing a happy little rumble to resound inside Neuvillette’s chest.

He becomes relentless immediately, his nose brushing up against your clit as he continues grinding his tongue inside of you. Your body writhes, and he holds you tightly—his fingers pressing bruises into your skin where he touches you.

He can't stop.

He bullies your g-spot incessantly.

You feel like you’re on fire—pleasure scorching away at the nerves that connect your brain to your body.

You can't control yourself.

The moans and whines that escape you—the arousal that gushes over Neuvillette’s tongue as he continues fucking you…

“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”

Oh god, you can't even get a full sentence out. You want to warn him that you're going to cum—that you won't be able to hold back if his tongue continues moving inside of you like that—but he already knows. He can sense what's coming in the way your muscles tense, and your breath catches.

Cum, he wants to say, but doesn't—not daring to remove his mouth from you when you're on the precipice of an orgasm.

Within seconds, you come undone—the walls of your pussy fluttering around him, and helpless whimpers falling from your lips.

And yet, even with you being mid-orgasm, a dragon that's drunk on the taste of you pushes for more. He folds you over—trying to reach deeper inside of you.

The slick from your pussy overflows and drips down between the cheeks of your ass, and immediately, Neuvillette’s fingers are there—gathering it up and smearing it against your hole.

The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.

“Neuvillette, you're—”

“Shh,” he says, for the first time retracting his tongue from inside of you. He kisses at your clit, his free hand trailing up your torso and beneath your shirt.

“Lift your arms,” he says, his voice deep, and yet soft. The hunger in his gaze hasn't waned one bit, but knowing he has a mate to help him through his rut has put him somewhat at ease, and he doesn't want you to fear him.

Without arguing, you do as he says, and he manages to wrestle your shirt over your head.

Finally, you're bare beneath him.

He takes a second to admire you, his hand moving to rest against one of your breasts. He cups it with his palm, his thumb brushing against your hardened nipple, and when you immediately jolt in response—he almost smiles.

Almost, because he still has more work to do if he wants to fully indulge in you, and satisfy his own needs.

“I'll take care of you,” he promises. “Trust me.”

And before you can even think of how to respond, he slips one of his fingers into your ass.

The gasp that leaves you quickly deteriorates into a lewd moan as his tongue once again returns to your cunt, and you swear it’s somehow even bigger than it was before.

Not having forgotten his new discoveries, Neuvillette effortlessly locates that special little spot inside of you and begins assaulting it once more—reveling in the way your body shakes, and your ass flutters around his finger.

He needs you pliant and ready for him, and it takes all of his willpower to not rush. To work at the pace your body needs.

Luckily, his mouth on your pussy and his hand on your breast helps loosen you up. The tension you'd first held—nervous about stepping into the dragon's clutches—begins melting away.

You trust that he won't hurt you.

“Ah—!”

He slips a second finger inside of you.

Compared to the incessant rub of his tongue inside you, the motion of his fingers is calmer—a purposeful, moderate pace—and the dueling sensations make your head spin.

It's all so much.

“Neuvillette—”

You reach one of your hands up, needing to ground yourself with something—and you end up taking a fistful of his hair.

Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.

He needs to hear you say his name like that again. Actually, more than that, he needs to feel you clenching down on his—

Neuvillette groans into your pussy as you tug at his hair once more. In response, he retracts his tongue from inside you and drags it upwards—grinding it against your clit.

Instantly, you lose it.

A mix of curses, blabbers, and his name are drawn from you—your body squirming against the couch cushions as he laps at your neglected and sensitive clit. At the same time, he scissors his fingers inside your ass, testing to see if you’re stretched enough for one more—

“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”

“Cum.”

He says it this time—a low command partnered with the sensation of a third finger pressing inside of you. But before your brain can even digest the increased girth of his fingers, his mouth suctions back on your clit, and your toes curl.

“Fuck—!” you choke, your head pressing into the cushion as the tension inside of you snaps—pleasure rushing forth.

You unconsciously tug at Neuvillette��s hair and he takes a deep, long breath in through his nose. He’s careful to not stop the motion of his tongue or the grinding of his fingers inside of you until you begin to whine—your hand moving from his hair to his shoulder as you attempt to push him away.

Then, he finally relents.

Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you.

Your chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath, a few stray hairs sticking to the skin of your face, the slick arousal that’s smeared against your pussy, and the way you’re asshole flutters around nothing after he slowly removes his fingers…

You’re ready.

Still in the middle of catching your breath, you’re drawn back into reality by the sound of the rustling of clothes.

You peek your eyes open to find Neuvillette above you, shedding himself of his clothing. You hadn't noticed earlier, but he isn’t wearing his formal robes today. Maybe because he hadn't been expecting to see anyone, and therefore hadn’t bothered dressing up to the nines.

Neuvillette starts by loosening his tie, and then unbuttons his shirt—tossing both items down onto the floor, where they lay in a heap along with your own clothing. You expect his pants to be the next to go, but you both realize at the same moment that with his boots on, it will take more time than he wants to completely strip his bottom half.

Luckily, he doesn’t need to be completely naked to fuck you.

Popping the button and tugging down the zipper of his pants, you watch with bated breath as finally shoves his pants and underwear down. The fabric drags across his bulge as he does so, and you note for the first time how…substantial it is.

He may actually be bigger than Wriothesley, which is something you were not expect—

Neuvillette finishes shoving his clothing down to his thighs, and you watch in pure shock as not one, but two heavy, ribbed, lightly glowing dicks spring out of his trousers.

…oh.

You hold your breath, unable to peel your eyes away from the sight of him. You’d never even considered that as a dragon, his sexual organs may be a bit different from that of a humans. You can understand now why he’d made a point to work your ass open…

Speaking of—

“Neuv—!” you gasp in surprise as he rubs his dicks between the folds of your pussy. You feel the head of one of his members catch at your entrance, but he doesn’t linger there—instead using his hand to guide it down to your ass.

“You’ll be okay,” he says, sensing your apprehension.

He doesn’t look at you, though, as he says those words—his voice tight with desperation. He can’t wait anymore, so he has to believe them. Has to believe that he’s done enough to prepare you for what’s to come.

Gripping his length tightly, Neuvillette nudges his dick inside your asshole.

It’s a tight fit—one that has you choking on a whine and grasping at his wrist—your nails digging into his skin. It’s not painful, but it’s still a lot—your chest shuddering as he continues to inch himself deeper inside of you.

As he does so, his other cock grinds against your pussy—helplessly waiting for its own turn to be inside of you, precum leaking from his slit and smearing against your skin.

“Gods,” he pants, a waver in his voice. His eyes are aglow as he watches himself slowly sink into your ass—the friction positively heavenly—and soon enough, he’s fully inside of you, his hips flush with your bottom.

Your breaths coming quick, and your hand still holding tight around his wrist, the two of you meet eyes.

Then, the last little thread of Neuvillette’s sanity finally crumbles in the face of his overwhelming need to rut.

Claws digging into the flesh of one of your thighs, he forces it wider open, and grabs his second cock with his other hand.

“Neuvillette, wait—,” you try to say, but it’s no use. Even with your ass still adjusting to his intrusion, Neuvillette shoves the head of his cock into your pussy.

“Oh, fuck—!” you cry, your fingernails digging crescents into his skin.

Already drenched from Neuvillette’s previous actions, he expects your pussy to take him easier, but with your ass full, and your body struggling to relax, it proves challenging. He can only get his length half way inside of you before you’re gripping him so tightly that he can’t move another inch.

Drunk with desire, he actually growls.

“I—”

I’m sorry, you want to say, but can’t get the words out. You just need a minute to adjust. You can do this for him—want to do this for him—but—

“Hush,” he mumbles, close, and then his lips are on yours.

His body cages you in as he kisses you—one of his hands resting beside your head, while the other finds the small of your back, rubbing circles into your flesh.

“You’ve been doing so well for me,” he tells you, breathless. “Taking everything I give, responding so perfectly to everything.”

His words of praise go straight to your pussy, and you whine as he pushes deeper inside of you—your walls relaxing enough to allow him farther in.

Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.

“That's it, good girl…just a bit more.”

Hearing such words from the esteemed Iudex—his hand warm on your back, and his lips soft on your skin…you want nothing more than to please him.

Taking a shaky little breath, you dispel the tension in your body.

Immediately, Neuvillette takes advantage. With one last nudge, he stuffs the rest of his cock inside of you.

You’ve never felt so full.

Overcome with joy—a satisfaction deep within him that he’s never felt before—Neuvillette kisses you once more.

…then, he begins to move his hips.

You cry out, your body shaking in his hold, but he doesn’t let you go.

The slow, full rock of his hips very quickly deteriorates into quick, desperate thrusts—his cocks stretching out your holes.

The sensation is like nothing you’ve experienced before, and you find yourself helpless to do anything at all. You can hear your own voice, but don’t know what you’re saying, or if the sounds you’re making are words at all. Because while it’s your pussy and ass that are being made a mess of, your brain feels equally as scrambled—unable to conjure even one intelligent thought.

Right now, you’re just a dragon's mindless breeding hole.

The sloppy sound of sex fills Neuvillette’s office, and while it is nearly drowned out by the downpour happening outside—thick droplets of rain pelting against the windows—the plap of Neuvillette’s balls against your ass is impossible to miss.

Ah…you’re going insane.

A tiny sob slips past your lips, tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire—each stroke of Neuvillette’s cocks pushing you closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm.

“Ahh…”

The heady sound from Neuvillette catches your attention, and you peak your eyes open, staring up at the dragon above you.

Never before have you seen him look so debauched—his hair falling out from his braid, and his face and chest flushed. His eyes remain focused on the space where his body meets yours, mesmerized by the way your body accepts him in full—nearly sucking him in, now that you’ve adjusted and any discomfort has turned to pleasure.

Only when he hears you sob again—a pathetic, desirous little sound—does his gaze stray upwards.

And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

He’s not sure he’s ever witnessed a sight so sinful. The plush of your lips, the unshed tears that wet your eyes, and the bounce of your breasts with each of his thrusts.

Before he knows it, he’s leaning down to kiss you.

You whine into his mouth, your arms lifting to hug around his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies. He groans as your nails leave tracks against his porcelain skin, but he doesn’t relent.

He’s getting close.

And, judging by the way you whimper—your pussy and ass clenching down on him—you must be close too.

Spurred on, Neuvillette kisses you again and again—his kisses open-mouthed and sloppy as his tongue dances around your own. Drool and tears quickly paint your cheeks, but you’re helpless to do anything about it.

Right now, all you know is that you’re going to cum. The stretch of his cocks—the way they rub against your walls as he continues fucking into you with abandon—it’s too much. Your muscles tense, and Neuvillette’s brows pinch together as your holes suddenly tighten on him.

“Neuvillette,” you sob, the sound of his name broken as you speak it against his lips.

“Y/N,” he pants in turn. His rhythm becomes careless as he begins to lose it as well, but he continues to fuck you the best he can despite the constricting of your walls.

It’s only a few seconds longer before you come undone—your body shaking and nails digging into his back as you orgasm. Broken little sounds escape from your mouth as waves of pleasure tear through you, and the sensation of you cumming is ultimately what does Neuvillette in as well.

With one last buck of his hips, the Iudex buries himself inside of you and cums.

His chest shudders as you milk him dry, and you struggle to keep your eyes open—feeling utterly boneless now that the tension inside of you has gone.

For a minute, the two of you stay as you are—basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. Then, Neuvillette sits back and slowly pulls out of you.

You make a quiet noise, feeling yourself clench around nothing once you’re no longer stuffed with his cocks, and he smiles at the sound, sensing a hint of disappointment.

“You did so well,” he tells you.

Placing his hands on your waist, he gently maneuvers you to allow himself room to lay down on his side beside you.

The feel of his arm wrapping around you and pulling you snuggly back against his body causes a contented sigh to leave your lips, and after a few seconds, you muster up the energy to speak.

“I take it you feel a bit better now?”

“Much,” he responds, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them to your cheek.

“However…”

He peppers another kiss against your cheek, and then your jaw, and neck. At the same time, his fingers ghost down your abdomen, until his palm is resting on your lower tummy.

With gentle pressure, he urges your ass back against him—his hips inching forward at the same time—and shockingly, you realize that he’s still hard.

“...it seems that I’m not satisfied quite yet.”

When Wriothesley emerges from the Fortress the next day, the downpour he’d caught word of from some of the prison guards has stopped—only a few clouds littering the blue sky.

Hopefully this is a good sign, he thinks to himself, starting on his way to the aquabus station.

He takes the line into the city, intending first to visit Neuvillette at the Palais—to hear about how his week fared with the help of an assistant. Then, once that’s done, he’ll go and visit you at your apartment to…catch up.

Smiling to himself, Wriothesley departs the aquabus and takes the path towards Nevuillette’s office. (Because somehow, he doubts the Iudex is at home relaxing like most people do on their days off.)

As he trudges up the steps to the Palais Mermonia, he steps on a wet piece of paper in front of the door. It’s the handmade notice that had been posted on the door two evenings prior, and had subsequently blown off in the storms that followed—but Wriothesley doesn’t think anything of it.

Pushing the door open, he heads inside.

“Neuvillette?” he calls gently, his knuckles rapping against the door to the Iudex’s office.

The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.

“Come in.”

“I figured I’d find you here,” Wriothesley jokes as he steps inside, spotting Neuvillette as his normal place behind his desk. However, what isn’t normal is the fact that there’s a person sleeping on his couch—their body shrouded with a blanket, and an assortment of untouched food and a glass of water on the coffee table beside them.

Immediately Wriothesley freezes, confused about what’s going on, but…when he looks a bit closerr, he realizes the hair popping out from the top of the blanket, and the scent of the person on his couch are all too familiar.

“Y/N?”

Wriothesley walks up to the sofa, blinking in surprise when he sees that it is indeed you who is passed out—your face just barely peeking from beneath the blankets that have been snuggly wrapped around you.

“You know, Neuvillette, when I lent her to you for the week, I didn’t expect you to work her until the point of exhaustion,” he jokes, looking over towards Neuvillette with a playful hint of a grin. He expects Neuvillette to sigh and apologize, but the abashed look he is instead faced with causes Wriothesley to pause once more.

It’s then that the Duke notices a small pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor next to the sofa, along with your shoes.

Hesitantly, Wriothesley grips the edge of the blanket and slowly tugs it away from your body.

He’s met with the sight of naked shoulders, and a neck peppered with small bites and bruises.

Just as slowly as he’d moved the blanket down, he tugs it back up.

The office sits in silence for a moment.

“She is…unharmed,” Neuvillette finally speaks, moving a strand of hair away from his face. “Her current state is my fault.”

Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.

“Compared to when I last saw you, you seem to be faring much better.”

His words cause the blush on Neuvillette’s face to deepen, and Wriothesley cracks a small smile, letting loose a sigh.

“Ahh, to think even the almighty Iudex would fare poorly due to unfulfilled needs.”

“It’s a bit more complex than that,” Neuvillette says with a sigh of his own, prompting Wriothesley to raise an eyebrow. However, when Neuvillette doesn’t speak right away—unsure about divulging the specifics that lead to this outcome—Wriothesley decides to not push it.

“Well, whatever the reason, I trust that you haven’t hurt her, and that she consented to whatever took place here.”

“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.

Standing up from his chair, he walks over and stands beside Wriothesley—reaching down to brush a gloved finger against your cheek. You stir only slightly—nuzzling your face into the pillow your head rests upon.

Both men smile.

“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”

“She is; one that works with care and compassion for the one she is helping. She performed well beyond her duties.”

“You can see now why I like her,” Wriothesley says softly, and Neuvillette can see the fondness in his gaze as he regards you.

“She did tell me that she and you are not necessarily in a committed relationship, but…I apologize regardless if I crossed any sort of line.”

Wriothesley hums.

“While the thought of sharing her with anyone else like that does make me feel a bit…possessive…she did consent to what occurred, based on your words. And, honestly speaking, I’m glad it was you over anyone else.”

Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“I trust you,” Wriothesley tells him. “Although, you having sex is not a thought that had crossed my mind before now. It makes me curious as to what exactly you did to her while the two of you were alone.”

“I assure you a majority of her time in my care was spent with her performing her standard duties as an assistant, and nothing else. As to what happened beyond that, well…I’m not sure I possess the courage to recall such details aloud.”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to assure Neuvillette he was just teasing, but the dragon continues before the Duke can interrupt.

“I suppose if you’d like to know, next time—should there be one—you’ll simply have to be present.”

Catching the meaning of his words, Wriothesley meets his gaze.

Understanding passes between them.

“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Once Y/N has recovered, and when you next return to the surface, I’ll have to invite you both for a meal,” Neuvillette says, turning back towards his desk. “In the end, the support from you both did alleviate the issue that plagued me. It’s only right to repay such kindness when I’m next given the opportunity.”

Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.

“Well, it would be a shame to pass up on such an offer. I certainly hope that fate grants the opportunity for our schedules to align.”

Taking a seat behind his desk, a small smile appears on Neuvillette’s lips.

“I shall hope for the same.”

#genshin impact smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette fic #genshin impact x reader #bean fic #genshin x reader

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sayangrafayel · 3 months ago

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LADS react to you recovering from an Eating Disorder.

This was not an easy request but I got two (2) requests regarding this. At first I was too scared to touch on this subject but if my writing could help at least one person, I realized my fear shouldn't be in the way of that. So here, this one is dedicated to those who need it. You are beautiful as you are strong. And I hope this little piece can help you even if it's just a tiny bit.

Content warning: Eating Disorder, recovering from it, dealing with it. It's fluff and comfort.

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.

Sylus

It hurts him as much as it hurts you, but he never said a word about it. Not when you're clearly trying to recover.

Crow family eating every meal together, all five of them. They never force you nor do they stare at you, never complain about how much food left in your plate. You guys just sit around the table, absentmindedly talking about your days.

And you appreciate them. More than they know.

Xavier

As hard as it is on him, he knows it's harder on you.

He's your partner, he's with you 100%. He tries so hard every meal time to cook something you'd love. His food tastes.. wrong sometimes, but you swear you can taste every love and effort he put in it.

He reads every. single. book. or. article. about it.

He fell asleep holding his ipad and you can clearly see "How to help your partner with ED?" "Eating Disorders and Romantic Relationships" "How To Support a Loved One in ED Treatment"

Rafayel

He never. Never once. Commented on your physical appearance other than your face. Not because he doesn't like your body, but because he knows it could be triggering sometimes.

He never judged you if you slip up or go back to your old habit. He's always supportive of you, trusting you to make the right call, even if it hurts him sometimes.

He's always so proud every time you told him you ate a snack or finished your meal!

Zayne

Even if he's your primary care physician and knows every little detail on why you should do this and do that, he never once pressure you into doing them.

He would tell you kindly, more like a little reminder, but he knows not to push too much.

He wants you to recover, not for him, but for you.

All in all, he treats you normally.. and it makes you feel comfortable.

Caleb

Like Sylus (and honestly all the boys), he sits down with you every meal time or every time you guys eat. Be it at a normal breakfast-lunch-dinner time or a random 3am-sitting-on-the-kitchen-floor-snacking.

Had to accept that this is the one thing that is entirely out of his control, he knows if he pushed too hard it could end up harming your relationship.

You can text him or tell him at any time of the day "Caleb.. I think I'm craving-" "What? I will cook it for you!" "Caleb's famous braised pork, please!!!"

It doesn't matter how hard or how long the dish takes to make, oh he's gonna cook it for you.

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cherriesncinnamon · 7 months ago

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forgive me / father charlie x fem!reader

synopsis: after recently becoming involved with the catholic church, you soon start having inappropriate fantasies about your priest. desperately wanting to atone, you confess your sins.

warnings/tags: handjob, unprotected sex (don't try this at home), mentions of self harm/repentance, priest x reader (i mean no harm to the catholic community, this is just fiction).

word count: 1.3k.

a/n: sooooo🥰 i'm obsessed with nicholas chavez. i'm not gonna lie, i haven't seen grotesquerie fully, but after seeing his scenes i had to write a one shot about father charlie. this is completely and utterly feral. me when i need him biblically.

link to another father charlie piece i've done due to popular demand!!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I've never been a religious person. I've always believed that a higher power is unprovable, leading to my agnosticism. My mother is a devout Catholic, but she's never particularly pushed her beliefs onto me. That was until recently when she threatened to disown me if I refused to come to church for another Sunday.

The people are insufferable, the sermons are unstimulating, and I cannot bear knowing I could be doing something much more exciting with my morning. I sit at the very end of the pew, arms crossed in anguish, awaiting a middle aged, balding priest to appear and preach for an hour. But to my surprise, a much younger version emerges instead. Dark thick hair, darling brown eyes, and a charming smile. My eyes widen with intrigue at the strikingly handsome man before me. He begins to speak, walking up and down the rows of people, truly passionate about what he's saying. I'm paying attention to the words, but not so much the message. After the communion and the drinking of the wine, my mother and I mingle for a bit, chatting uselessness to the bored housewives. Church is the only liberating part of their week, and now I know why.

As if by a miracle of God, I become Catholic overnight. My mother is shocked at my interest in coming to church the following week, and the week after that, and that week after that. Each time I see him, my desire intensifies. Knowing that he has taken a vow of celibacy only entices me more. I imagine him bending me over the pews, his singular ring leaving an indent in my upper thigh. I need to confess. I need to release this demon that is plaguing my thoughts.

On a stormy Friday evening, I make my way to the back of the church, placing three hesitant knocks on his office door. The rest of the building is vacant, candle light being my only source of sight. His voices seeps through the door, permitting me to enter.

"Ah, Miss Y/L/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He welcomes me in with a warm smile, putting down the pen he was holding to usher me to sit.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I- I've come to confess." I swallow, stuttering my words in fear. Father Charlie cocks his head in question.

"I see. Anything you say should be in confidence, your confession will be safe with me." He replies, nodding in reassurance. I fiddle with the hem of my skirt in anticipation, heat rising to my cheeks from simply being alone with him. I drape my long hair over my shoulder and clear my throat.

"I've been having impure thoughts, Father."

"Okay. And what do these thoughts detail?" He probes, clasping his hands together on the wooden desk. The Bible sits closed next to him; I can feel it judging me.

"Sexual thoughts. I want to pleasure myself, but I know I can't." I grip at my throat which has become tight, my stomach tingling with the remembrance of my fantasies. Charlie loosens his Roman collar, eyes searching the room for anything to look at besides me.

"I think about you, Father. You punishing me for my sins, taking me, sliding yourself into me." I spill, cheeks on fire and wine red. Father Charlie is quick to stand up from his chair, pacing to the other side of the room.

"I have taken a vow. Please do not seduce me." He begs, reaching for the door handle.

I stand in front of him, his tall frame towering over me, eyes fixated on mine. His chest is heaving, lips slightly parted as he breathes. Standing on the tips of my toes, I whisper.

"Don't you want to know what it feels like, Father? Just once?" My bottom lip lightly grazes his ear lobe, increasing his breathing pace. Our faces are mere centimetres apart, and I'm using all of my might to stop myself tasting him.

"I cannot abandon my faith, I mustn't." He insists, expression pained and frustrated. His brow is furrowed, forehead glazed in sweat. I can tell he is holding himself back with all his strength, and I'm feeling brave.

I take my fingertips and slide them over his clothed cock, smiling as it hardens under my gentle touch. Charlie goes to remove my hand, but quickly retracts when I speed up, using my palm to add pressure. I slowly undo his leather belt, lifting the waistband of his black pants. Taking him in my grasp, I stroke his thick length, watching in euphoria as his head tips back in bliss. His hands seek the stability of the doorframe for support, his knees weakening more every second.

"Feel me." Slipping my panties to the side, I guide his fingers to my pussy, slick with my arousal, begging for contact.

"Oh, forgive me Lord." He cries out, teasing my entrance with his digits while I excite his tip dripping pre-cum with my thumb. He stares at me in awe when I lick myself off his fingers, cock throbbing, veins pulsing blood into him until he's unbearably hard.

Hungry for my kiss, he devours my lips, biting my bottom lip playfully. Our tongues slide across one another, his hands gripping the sides of my face. He tastes like the Merlot we have at communion; sweet and fruity. My hands snake around his neck, twirling the thick locks of hair at the nape. His lips take interest elsewhere, peppering erotic pecks across my jaw, to my neck, and to my chest. I unbutton my white dress shirt, revealing my braless breasts. His eyes widen, immediately manhandling and kissing the supple skin.

"I want to feel you inside of me. Please, Father." I moan, perching myself on the edge of his desk, skirt hiked up to my hips. I spread my legs wide, fully revealing myself to him. He exhales in defeat, slotting himself between me.

Charlie rests his hands on either side of me on the desk while I line up his cock to my entrance, pushing my hips towards him. Grabbing my waist, he enters me, his length filling my walls like a glove. His voice groans deeply against my neck, his hand pressed on my lower back for support. His thrusts start off slow and juvenile, but quickly speed up to a pace we both can't take for long. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him in deeper. I moan sweet noises with every movement and caress, realising that this is better than I could've imagined.

"You feel so good, this feels so good." He sobs, nails digging into my hips so hard they leave streaks of blood. The cross around his neck swings in my face, reminding me of how sin can feel so good.

Waves of pleasure wash over me, the coil inside of me tightening by the second. I pull the back of his head close to me as my climax arrives. I bite his lip hard in satisfaction, tasting his blood on my tongue. It's not long before he follows in a moaning mess, burying his head into my chest, grabbing my breast as his warm cum fills me.

It takes a minute of getting our breaths back to move. I use a tissue to wipe his seed off my thighs. Father Charlie hastily redresses, fixing his collar and clutching his necklace.

"Lord, forgive me. Forgive me for this cardinal sin. Forgive me for enjoying it." He prays on his knees, staring up at a portrait of God. I place my hand on his back, feeling some guilt.

"I need to repent. You need to punish me." He says, picking up his leather belt from the floor and placing it in my hands.

"How can something that feels like this be a sin?" He asks me, tears in his eyes. I shake my head, not knowing the answer myself. He takes his shirt off, showing me his scarred back.

"Punish me, please."

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #grotesquerie #smut warning #smut #father charlie #father charlie grotesquerie

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darkbluekies · 4 months ago

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King Edmund, Jerry & Hedwig drabbles: darling feeling insecure in appearance

Yandere!king x fem reader, yandere!mafia x reader, yandere!richgirl x reader

Warnings: mentions of not liking how one looks, Edmund not saying nice things about other women

Silas & Dr Kry version

King Edmund:

You're the queen. You should be flawless, shouldn't you? Everyone wants Edmund, everyone wants to be in your position. Everyone's judging you, thinking that you're not worthy. The court gossip is always about you. Always your looks, your behaviour, your outfits. At some point, it's unavoidable.

You don't let anyone come into the bed chamber. You've barricated the door with an armchair, curled up in a corner to cry. Your dresses are ripped, your jewlery scattered all over the floor.

"This fucki—there we go", Edmund pants as he finally manages to force the door open. "What is going on in here? What have you done?"

The second he locates you and sees the tears on your cheeks, his face resets. Edmunnd runs over to your corner and sinks down in front of you. He takes your face in his hands.

"What's wrong?" he asks worriedly. "My jewel, what happened? Why are your dresses everywhere? And the diamonds?"

"I hate them", you sob through gritted teeth.

"The clothes? We can get new ones. Do you want new jewlery too?"

"Not those."

"Then what?"

"They ... they tell me I'm ugly."

His eyes narrow. "Who?"

"The ladies in court ..."

"Surely you don't listen to those hags?"

You break out into new sobs. Edmund stares at you, eyes full of fear. Fuck, you do. Not you. Not his darling. He holds your head in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

"I am King Edmund, right?" he asks. "Do you think I'd marry just anyone? Those bitches are idiots if they think I'd ever chose them. You, my beautiful girl, are all mine."

He holds you close to him, letting you cry.

"No one can even come close to you", he whispers. "i don't want you listening in on gossip, that's not what my girl does, right? My girl is perfect and doesn't listen to insecure bitches. Fuck, I love you so much, people like that rile me up."

He looks around at the room, at the ripped clothes.

"I will buy you a whole new wardrobe and new jewlery", he reassures you. "All the latest fashion from Paris. And you will show those sluts that you are the most beautiful girl in the entire world. They can shove their last year's fashion down their throats."

Jerry:

If you ever show any type of dislike towards your appearance, Jerry will be the first one to let you know that you're wrong.

"Listen to me", she says and sits you down on the bed. "If I hear you say that you're ugy one more time — and I mean just one more time — I will lose it. Do you know many times I look at your photos on my phone when I'm not home and wonder how in fuck's whole world I managed to get you?"

You shake your head. Jerry wipes your tears and hugs you tightly.

"There's nothing in this world that I like", she says. "Everyone I ever loved is gone. You are all I have left and do you know how happy I am that it is you that i have left? There are billions of people in this world, and yet it is you. I couldn't have asked for anyone else. You literally turn me on more than you can imagine. I am so fucking attracted to you I am embarrassed, it's pathetic. I have to force myself to keep my hands off of you, otherwise you'd never leave this bed."

You sob out a chuckle and she smiles sadly. Your sobs make her heart ache. She doesn't have the words to formulate just how badly she loves you, how perfects she finds you. Jerry grabs your jaw in her hand.

"Get those thoughts out of your head now, okay?" she says, caressing your cheeks and kissing you. "I don't want to hear you say that about yourself. That makes me sad."

"I'm sorry, Jerry."

She lays down in bed and pulls you to her, letting you rest on her chest. Her acrylic nails scratch at your scalp.

"Do you want to know a secret?" she whispers in your ear.

"What?" you whisper back.

"You should hear how much I talk about you during my job. My boss is sick of hearing about you all the time ... and so are all the others. But they don't dare say anything to me, do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because they see how happy you make me. They would protect you with their lives if they had to, just because of how important you are to me."

She wishes that you could see her the way she sees you, that way you would never doubt.

Hedwig:

Hedwig have invited her childhood friends over, all from wealthy families, for dinner. Most of them are aspiring models, just like her. You felt misplaced. They're beautiful. Hedwig should be with one of them, not with you.

She notices that you're no longer downstairs and goes looking for you, eventually finding you in her bedroom.

"Why are you crying?" she asks quickly, closing the door behind her before running over to you. "What happened, sweetheart?"

You don't answer at first, feeling ashamed. Was it jealousy? Insecurity?

"Please talk to me", she begs softly, putting her hands in your lap.

"Your friends ..."

"Did they say something mean to you?"

"No, they're nice, it's just ..."

Her voice is as soft as could be. "What?"

"They're very pretty."

"So are you."

You shake your head and look down. "Not like them."

Hedwig's shoulders fall. She takes your hands and leans in towards your ear.

"I think you're prettier than them", she whispers and pulls back to meet your eyes. "You are everything I dreamt of. When I was a child and played with my barbies, I dreamt of having a relationship like Barbie and Ken, and do you know what? I got something much better. I could never have imagined, not in my wildest dreams."

"You're so pretty, I'm scared someone would take you ..."

"Trust me, no one can take me from you. They'll have to kill me to get me to leave you, and then I'll come back as a ghost to still be with you. I will never, ever have anyone else. You are everything I could ever want. You are so unbelievably pretty, I have to pinch myself sometime to remind myself that this is real."

She kisses your lips and rests your head on her shoulder.

"How about we don't go downstairs anymore tonight?" she asks. "Let's call it a night and just stay here?"

"But your guests-"

"They know where the kitchen is and they can entertain themselves. You are more important to me."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere king #yandere female #yandere rich girl

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abyssruler · 2 years ago

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roses are red, violets are blue, lynette is so done with the two of you

lyney x gn!reader

lynette thinks fontaine’s worst kept secret isn’t how neuvillette wears blue underwear or how the hydro archon loves a good drama, no, fontaine’s worst kept secret is lyney’s massive crush on you and how everyone and their grandmother know except you.

comedy, pining lyney, lynette being so done

Lyney’s frowning.

Most people would find it an odd expression on him, used to having him direct dazzling smiles and playful laughter their way. But Lynette isn’t just anyone, and the sight of Lyney frowning is hardly a rare phenomenon within the privacy of their household.

Freminet’s usually Lyney’s choice of victim for whatever nonsense he’s managed to build himself up in that head of his, but Freminet’s busy doing errands and Lynette is unfortunately the only person within vicinity that Lyney trusts with his secret—which isn’t even a secret by this point, people have been making bets on how long it would take you to realize that Lyney’s been pining over you since forever.

Case in point: Lyney frowning over two identical flowers. She doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know that her brother is having a midlife crisis over which flower to give you.

Lynette thinks he should just man up and confess. Preferably within the next week or so, otherwise she’d lose her bet.

“Lynette, which one is more eye-catching, the crimson one,” he holds up the flower in his right hand, then he raises the other one, “or the maroon one?”

Lynette gives him the deadest stare she can muster. “They’re the same color.”

“Oh, sister, have you no taste?” Lyney tuts, pouting at her for a moment before returning to that constipated look as he squinted at the ‘crimson’ and ‘maroon’ flowers. Talk about being delusional.

“(Y/N)’s not gonna care whether the rose is crimson or maroon or red,” she tells him. You’d probably accept a dead flower if it came from Lyney, with that starry-eyed look you always got whenever he so much as glances your way. Lynette’s not one to judge other people’s taste too harshly, but she does wonder what you see in her overdramatic and annoying brother.

Ah, well. They do say love makes people blind. Hopefully not literally though, Lynette’s not looking forward to performing shows alone because Lyney got blinded by his love for you—though if you asked Lynette, she’d tell you it wasn’t love so much as obsession. Only someone insane would spend hours picking out flowers and calling them ‘maroon’ and ‘crimson’. It’s just red.

Lynette squints at him. “And since when were you interested in the meaning of flowers?”

“Well, I suppose you could say I like to dabble in other pursuits.” Lyney gives her a cheeky grin.

“Right…” He’s clearly losing his mind.

“Red roses symbolize true love, though rainbow roses in particular pertain to passion, and…” He trails off, eyes blinking in astonishment. She can practically see the lightbulb appearing on top of his head.

With a flick of his wrists, the ‘crimson’ and ‘maroon’ roses disappear. Lynette watches him warily, wondering what kind of outlandish idea has formed in that head of his.

But he doesn’t elaborate more, only shoots a wink at her and says, “I’ve got a great idea.”

✧

His great idea, as it turns out, is to corner you in an alleyway and make it rain rainbow roses around you as he asked you out on a date, all while Lynette is crouched on the roof, dumping sacks of rainbow roses and vindictively hoping one of them stabs Lyney in the eye. No such luck.

You, as the ever-crazy romantic that you are, are awestruck and amazed by what he’s done instead of weirded out like how a normal person would be. With an eager smile and a twinkle in your eye, you accept the rose in Lyney’s hand and say yes when he asks you to meet him for dinner tomorrow. Lynette wants to barf, but settles for dumping another sack of flowers on top of the two of you.

And if she uses a little bit of anemo to direct a few petals to Lyney’s face? Well, you removing a petal sticking to his cheek and having your fingers linger there for a few moments wasn’t part of the plan (the plan being: embarrass her brother by having him choke on a petal while he’s speaking), but she can’t entirely begrudge the result. Not when Lyney looks like he’s about to have a meltdown with just one touch from you. Good blackmail material right there.

Lynette’s happy that the two of you have finally gotten your heads off your asses and are actually going on a date. Though mostly she’s happy about the amount of mora heading her way soon.

She’ll have to thank Freminet for telling her about the bet about you and Lyney. Maybe she can start a new bet on when the two of you are getting married—probably soon, if the lovestruck look on Lyney’s face is anything to go by. She hopes he won’t be crazy enough to propose on the second date, because you’d certainly be crazy enough to accept if he did.

Oh, well. Lynette will put a bet on one month just in case.

#look i haven’t done the archon quest yet #so i don’t have a good feel yet of their characters #but i’m sticking with this characterization!!#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #lyney x reader #gn reader #lynette

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cleoselene · 3 months ago

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from facebook of all places

posted by Jay Michaelson, and sourced by him as well:

Hello! I'm posting in response to the many sincerely anguished claims that not enough is being done to stop Trump. This is not reflected in the facts. - Represented by Public Citizen Litigation Group and State Democracy Defenders Fund, the Alliance for Retired Americans, the American Federation of Government Employees (AFGE), and the Service Employees International Union (SEIU) filed suit on Monday against the Treasury Department “for sharing confidential data with the so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), run by Elon Musk.” Go to Public Citizen's website to learn all about this lawsuit, which is very likely to prevail. - On USAID, appearing with other Democratic lawmakers outside USAID offices on Monday, Representative Jamie Raskin (D-Md.) shouted, “Elon Musk, you didn't create USAID. The United States Congress did for the American people … like Elon Musk did not create USAID, he doesn't have the power to destroy it. And who's going to stop him? We are... This a constitutional crisis that we are in today.” Lawsuits have also been filed in this matter, and are also likely to prevail. - Hakeem Jeffries has announced lawsuits have been filed regarding the firings of inspectors general. - On Jan 21, Democracy Forward, was filed at 12:01 p.m. ET on Monday and accused Elon Musk's DOGE of being a "shadow operation led by unelected billionaires" that flouts federal transparency rules. That should win. - National Security Counselors filed a suit arguing that DOGE meets the requirements to be a federal advisory committee and is therefore legally required to have "fairly balanced" representation, keep regular minutes of meetings and allow public access to meetings. Clearly accurate. - Eighteen state attorneys general and a slew of immigrants' rights groups brought swift legal action against Trump after he signed his executive order seeking to ban birthright citizenship for some children born in the U.S., arguing that it violates the Fourteenth Amendment. Obviously, clearly unconstitutional. - "Schedule F" has been challenged in court by the National Treasury Employees Union, which represents employees in 37 agencies and departments. - Several immigrant rights groups in the United States, as well as the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), have filed a lawsuit challenging President Donald Trump’s ban on asylum claims. - GLAD Law and the National Center For Lesbian Rights (NCLR) have sued to stop Trump's ban on trans people in the military. And there are many more - I'll link to a great list of them in the comments. Yes, there are Trump judges in the courts, and if Aileen Cannon types get these cases, Trump may prevail. But most judges are not like her. These actions are clearly illegal and/or unconstitutional, and they WILL be stopped. Just like the tariffs were not meant to prevail -- Trump won that round, "forcing" Canada and Mexico to take "action" on fentanyl -- these actions are not meant to prevail. They're meant to flood the zone with shit, confuse and immobilize us. They said they'd do "Shock and Awe" and that's what they've done. Nothing here should be surprising. Shock and Awe is up to YOU. I am not shocked, I am not in awe. Oh, and the "mainstream media" has reported on all of these. The info above has come from Newsweek, the NY Times, and other mainstream sources. Please stop attacking journalists when we are being threatened by the FBI. Who do you think you're helping by doing that? Stop it with the doomsaying and gloomsaying. Want to make a difference? Give thousands of dollars to Public Citizen, the ACLU, and similar groups. Show up at marches. Put your ass on the line and help protect people from ICE. If you're safe, do simple symbolic things (like changing your social media pictures) to support people who are not safe. Just like we should not obey in advance, we should not panic in advance either. This is not the end of democracy. That is just what the bad guys want you to think. Get over it and fight.

I don't know how many times I've heard "Dems do nothing!" when they are in fact doing a lot of things. You just don't hear about it because the mainstream news doesn't pay attention or you don't see out news beyond your social media feeds.

The other thing is, Dems don't break laws in their fights the way Republicans do. Your desire to turn every Dem POTUS into the Dick Cheney Version of the Executive but then screaming injustice! when the GOP does it -- you see the problem there?

#things are getting done

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digitalspool · 27 days ago

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love serum !

in which dr ratio accidentally consumes a serum gifted to you by ruan mei

-> inspired by verinarin’s love mishaps, dividers by cafekistune

My dearest friend,

I hope you’re enjoying your time on the space station. I understand that looking after my creations can be taxing. though, in your previous letter, you mentioned that they had evolved with new features. I'm grateful for your work.

Happy Birthday, by the way. I’ve attached a serum that should help revitalise you (I'll have to tell you about how I made it, when I next come to the space station) and embroidered a charm for you.

You should have the serum with the tea I have attached with it. It's a lovely, fragrant tea that I think you’d enjoy. It also matches the flavours of the serum.

You mentioned wanting a charm to ward off the bad luck you’ve been recently experiencing, as well as an ‘annoying scholar’. I am rather curious. Perhaps I’ll get you to talk about him next time, when I see you in person?

Do not worry about replying quickly — you should enjoy your birthday first with some cake and the serum I crafted for you. Herta mentioned that Asta was ‘making a ruckus’ doing something for you, potentially a cake. You’ll have to save me a slice. The serum should accompany the sweet taste of the cake well.

I promise I’ll visit you soon. Actually, I do have to check the Simulated Universe soon, so it may be sooner than later. It’d be nice to see you.

Kindest regards,

Ruan Mei.

...

Closing the letter, you smiled. Ruan Mei’s letters were always a nice surprise. Her letters always had gifts and sweet treats, and her writing was impeccable. Perhaps she was a little blunt, but you never really minded. It was her charm, you supposed.

Curious about her attached gifts, you gently unfolded the package that came with the letter. a pinky-purple serum in a glass container was there — probably the one she had mentioned, and an embroidered charm that had a plum blossom on it. The serum had a note attached on it — instructions on how to use it, as well as some tea leaves.

“So… I should put it in the tea,” You murmured, reading the instructions carefully, “I guess it can’t hurt to enjoy my birthday for a bit… plus that cake Asta might have made for me…”

Pocketing the charm, you began to make your way to the Space Station’s kitchen area. You were ever so curious about the cake, and Asta would have probably left it there.

Unsurprisingly, you bumped into Asta, who had greeted you with a smile and a cheerful ‘Happy Birthday!’

“Oh! And by the way, I made a cake for you! Cake’s in the fridge, take some time for yourself! You deserve it!” She nudged you playfully, and you couldn’t help but smile. “I thought you’d appreciate something handmade. To tell the truth, Arlan and I really struggled… but in the end, we made it!”

Giggling at the thought of Arlan covered in flour and Asta panicking over baking a cake, your smile grew wider, “Oh? I appreciate it, thanks. I’m sure it’ll taste great.”

"I hope so.” And then, she added on quietly, “I did actually fund a few of your projects, actually. Just in case the cake thing failed.”

“Asta— those projects were really expensive projects?!”

“Okay, time for my leave, see you later, Happy Birthday!!” She winked at you as she dashed off, but not before saying, “Oh, and by the way, the guy who’s name you don’t want mentioned in case he shows up is at the station. I'm sorry, it was a business thing!”

Before you could get in a word or complain about his arrival, Asta had already gone.

Shaking your head fondly at Asta’s antics, you thought about her words, while carefully undoing the serum’s cap to prepare it.

He was here? At the station? Great. you could only hope he wouldn’t ruin your birthday for you.

Sighing once more at the thought of him, you checked your fridge for the cake that Asta had mentioned. The colour was… intriguing and it was crudely decorated, but you’d judge it based on its taste, not its appearance (you were sure Asta would appreciate such kindness).

Cautiously carrying a piece of cake and serum, hoping not to spill any of the serum, you decided to settle in your laboratory. Not many (if any at all) researchers would be there, so you could at least have some peace and quiet as you enjoyed your birthday treats. You placed the cake onto the desk, taking a sip of the serum.

It was fragrant. a sweet, floral flavour that you knew would accompany any cake perfectly. you’d have to ask Ruan Mei about how she made it. She said she’d tell you, after all.

Next, the cake. Hesitantly, you took a small section of it, popping it into your mouth.

Your mouth exploded with flavour — not necessarily in a good way, but not in a bad way either. It was pretty intense. you wondered if they used too much cake flavouring. That was probably the case.

Still, it wasn’t unpleasant. maybe you could give Asta some baking lessons or something, but in the meantime, you’d—

“Was it necessary to have your break in here? The equipment could be sullied by the cake crumbs or a spillage.”

You stopped mid bite, looking up at the one who spoke.

Great. Of course. You should’ve known that he’d arrive, regardless of the charm in your pocket or your hopeful wishes.

“Dr. Ratio.” You muttered, trying to hide your disdain. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Sure, you respected him as a scholar, but his personality was unbelievably frustrating. At times, he would irritate you so much that you’d just leave whatever you were doing to get away from him and his arrogant remarks.

Sure, he was annoyingly attractive. Sure, you were one of few he had removed his plaster head for. Sure, you respected his smarts, his talent, and his perseverance, but that was beside the point. He was infuriating, and every word that came out of his mouth made you want to strangle him.

“Were you not alerted of my visit?” He questioned, eyes narrowing at the way you continued eating your cake, “I was under the impression that you had been informed of my visit. Naturally, I’m interested in your research, which is why I want an update.”

You simply stared at him in disbelief. Since when was he interested in your research? Plus, wasn’t your field of research so far apart from the subjects he taught?

Ratio simply stared back at you, facial expression still.

“Uh, well,” You began, noting that he wasn’t going to speak further, “It’s my birthday. I really want to have a peaceful birthday, so please leave?”

Ratio scoffs. “Leave? I’ve made the journey—”

“Alright, alright. Come, sit next to me.” You concede, cutting him off before he could lecture you. You really weren’t in the mood, especially not on your birthday. Though, you really weren't wanting to explain your research to him when you were supposed to be relaxing. Oh well, it's the lesser of two evils, you suppose.

As he sits down next to you, and he peers at your drink.

“What exactly is this? The colour is quite unnatural. Are you sure it’s not poison?” he says, taking the mug and glaring down at the contents.

And before you can explain or say anything, he gulps down your birthday concoction.

“W-what the hell?” You say, snatching the mug off of him. Your precious gift from Ruan Mei, the serum! It’s all gone! You deflate; disappointment etched upon your face. “Why— why did you drink it if you thought it was poison?”

“Naturally, I deduced it wasn’t poison. Besides, we are in a lab, and I could have easily administered a cure.”

“Are you insane? That was my drink! You don’t just—!” You sigh, setting the empty mug down on the desk. “My drink from Ruan Mei… gone…”

“I was curious about the taste,” he explains. Oddly enough, as he gazes at you, there’s a hint of softness in his eyes. “Are you alright? You look distraught.”

…

That was odd. Ratio didn’t seem like the type to care about your feelings in any shape or form. at least, not outwardly.

“…I’m fine.” You say, a hint of suspicion present in your voice. “Are you feeling alright? You’re acting weird.”

“Now that you mention it, I’m feeling rather warm. But otherwise, I feel as I normally do.” He shuffles closer to you. You stare at him, wondering what exactly he’s trying to do.

Suddenly, his hand comes up to cup your face.

…This is… unexpected. “Hey, doctor, what are you doing?”

His thumb brushes your cheek, a tender gesture that you hadn’t expected from him at all. You’re frozen in place as holds you, his eyes boring into yours.

“Why must you captivate me so?” he says softly, his voice frustrated yet reverent as he continues to inspect your face.

Your face flushes. This is weird, right? He’s acting weird. “Why must I–?"

He cuts you off, a finger placed on your mouth. “Be quiet and let me study you. there is a reason for everything, and I must examine you to reveal why I find you so attractive.”

...

Attractive????

“Have you lost your mind? Did the serum—” You pause. Oh yeah. He drank the serum. Wait, could this be an effect of the serum?

But how would that work? Your mind tries to grapple with this possibility. Perhaps the contents of the serum contained something that would have influenced such feelings? You’d have to ask Ruan Mei about it, or mention it in your reply to her letter.

For now, you had to get out of this predicament, at least, before you exploded with embarrassment. The way Dr. Ratio was holding you, gazing at you with that soft affection in his eyes was definitely stirring something in you, and it was hard to not just combust right there and then. You had never seen him so… soft.

“Look, we’ll talk later,” you say, trying not to stumble over your words as you pull away and begin packing your things away. Oddly, you miss the warmth of his touch. “I have to go, okay?”

Dr. Ratio looks disappointed, but only for a brief moment. “If you must leave, then… so be it. but…”

He pauses. You also pause in your movements, curious of what he might say.

“I apologise if this is too forward, but… would you mind if I kissed you?”

…

My dearest friend,

I was not aware that feeding the serum to an individual that is not yourself would cause such effects.

However, I do not think that the serum caused feelings of love. In fact, I believe it amplified already existing feelings, as ‘love potions’ are something that is entirely impossible. For this effect to have happened, Dr. Ratio must have had a surprising amount of affection for you.

Should you want it, I have attached an antidote. This will remove all serum that still resides within him, though I am unsure if that will do much.

Kindest regards,

Ruan Mei.

#dr ratio x reader #dr. ratio x reader #ratio x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail #veritas x reader #veritas ratio #dr ratio

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auroralwriting · 11 months ago

Text

clean 1

tfatws! bucky barnes x stark! reader (no use of y/n)

after the fight with john walker, you can tell bucky's arm was bothering him. so, you make a trip to see him.

word count: 1.6k | warnings: strong language, multiple parts, part two

Your suit was practically scarp metal after the fight with John Walker. He had tried his hardest to absolutely obliterate your suit. Thankfully, Tony had done a great job of designing it. With a few hours of repairs, it would be good as new.

The one thing you worried about was Bucky's arm, specifically the metal one. You saw how Walker had thrown Bucky across the room into wiring, causing it to shock Bucky's whole body. It made you uneasy to think about wether or wether not the arm was in tact, that and the fact that if it wasn't, it could very well lead to a lot of pain for Bucky.

So, using Friday, you found Bucky's new address. He'd taken residence in a small apartment in Brooklyn, thankfully, not too far from where you were reclaiming the Stark Tower. One car ride later, and you stood outside Bucky's apartment feeling more nervous than you thought you would be.

While Bucky and you weren't on bad terms, it was fair to say he was still uneasy around you. I mean, he had killed your parents, and your only living relative (minus the small Morgan) was also dead. You'd been a baby when The Winter Soldier killed Howard and Maria, so how could there be any bad blood between you and Bucky? You didn't even know what you had lost. That and you were more down-to-earth than Tony, realizing quickly the guilt and shame Bucky felt for his mind-controlled actions.

Using up the last bit of confidence you had, you knocked on Bucky's door. It took less than a minute, and Bucky's surprised face was staring back at you.

"Uhm, hi," You said awkwardly.

"How'd you know where I live?" Bucky asked, confused.

You held up your phone, Friday's screen appearing. "Just a quick scan of all James Buchanan Barnes in the area. Not very many," Your joke fell flat as you stood awkwardly while Bucky processed what was happening.

"Why're you here?" He asked.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay after the fight with Walker." You replied. "I saw you get thrown into all those wires, I saw all the sparks."

Bucky gave a small shrug, "I'm alright."

You eyed his arm suspiciously, "That arm causing you any pain?"

Both eyes now fell on Bucky's arm. You looked back up to Bucky to see him staring at it still. "It's been better," He sighed, his reply honest.

"I can fix it if you'd like?" You suggested. Bucky's eyes nearly popped out of his head at your words, "Or not!" You quickly added. "I, uh, don't want to make you feel weird..er than you probably already do."

Bucky went to move his arm, and you saw the traces of pain etched into his features. "It'll be alright."

"Our fight isn't over yet, Bucky." You argued. "You should be at your best." You took a deep breath in, finding more confidence from deep within, "I promise I won't judge you if that's what you're worried about. I mean, Tony literally had a hunk of metal plunged in his chest, and he made me clean it out all the time, it was really gross and-"

"Alright, alright," Bucky held his hands up. "I don't wanna hear about Tony's gross chest-hole. Just, come on in." The door opened all the way as Bucky walked inside. You trailed behind, slowly shutting the door behind you as you observed the apartment. It was really empty, just a small couch and a coffee table in front of it. The kitchen looked rather bare, too.

You took a seat on the couch, Bucky sitting next to you. You set your toolbox down in between the both of you, putting some space between your bodies.

"I need to see the connection point, if you don't mind?" You said softly, looking to Bucky's covered shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," He muttered as he hesitantly slipped off his shirt. You quickly noticed the healing scars on his shoulder, all around the joint, but you made sure to pay no attention to them as you hovered your hand over his arm. "It's fine," He said, watching your hesitantcy.

The metal was cool on your hands as you felt around it, looking for the weak point. Once you found it, you grabbed your tools and began to work at it. You weren't used to working in silence, so you tried to make some conversation.

"Steve, uh, used to tell me a lot about you." You said. Bucky raised a brow at you as you continued. "You were his knight in shining armor, or something of the sorts."

"I guess I was," Bucky gave the smallest hint of a smile. "How'd you learn how to do this anyways?"

You shrugged as you grabbed a new tool, "Tony taught me everything I know. Engineering, chemistry, physics, you name it."

"It must've been hard, just you two." Bucky said softly.

Looking up, you shook your head, "Don't start that," You said.

"But it's my fault-"

"For the last time, Bucky, that was the Winter Soldier, not you. I do not blame you, there's no reason to keep hurting yourself over this." You cut Buck off, voice slightly sharp with intention. Bucky's eyes fell on the other side of the room as you sighed, "Tony would have forgiven you, too. He just needed time."

Bucky scoffed, "He had five years."

"Of which we were gone," You countered. "I forgive you for him and myself, okay?"

“Don’t say that,” Bucky shook his head. “Just.. don’t?”

You set down your tool, staring at him. “Do you want proof?”

This gained Bucky’s interest, “Proof?” He asked, voice laced with doubt. “What proof?”

“Who do you think protected your whereabouts in Wakanda?” You asked, “Steve and Sam were on the run. Of course Tony knew you were there. I remember when he got the call. He just sat there for a while, thinking. When we talked about it, he said he was glad you were getting help.”

“What else did he say?” Bucky said with a knowing look in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s Tony, Buck. He says anything and everything and means almost none of it.” Bucky didn’t expect you to use his nickname. He liked the sound of it coming from your voice.

“That doesn’t mean he forgave me.” Bucky said.

“Well I do, okay? So stop being such a grump. I’m trying to be your friend, just let me, would you?” You sighed as you began to work on his arm again.

The soldier gave a small sigh, “Stop wasting your time on me when you have a company to run.”

“Stop trying to push me away. Also, Pepper’s helping me run it, so I have all the time in the world.” You argued.

After a brief moment of silence, Bucky spoke again. “I’m still not sure I’m safe to be around,”

The honesty surprised you, making you glance up at him to observe his face. “I’m literally face to face with your arm, tool inside it, and you wanna say you aren’t safe?”

Your comment made Bucky give a small chuckle, “That’s not really what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” You asked.

Bucky gave a shaky breath, “In Madripoor, when I had to take down those guys when I was pretending to be.. him,” Bucky explained, “It’s like I could still feel him trying to break free.”

You set a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, making sure to avoid his scars. “Bucky, Wankanda said you’re a free man. The Winter Soldier’s gone.”

“Maybe I’m just so used to violence now.” Bucky offered, “Maybe it’s who I am.”

“No,” You replied quickly. “You are Bucky Barnes. You’re Steve’s best friend, Sergeant Barnes. You’re Sam’s friend, my friend, and you’re a survivor. You’re one hell of a fighter, you’re a victim who pushed through all his pain and suffering to become a better man, and that’s exactly who you are.” Your words left Bucky feeling like he could cry, but he just looked away. You didn’t know whether what you said was right or wrong.

“Thank you,” Bucky muttered as you began to work on his arm again.

“It’s no problem, Bucky.” You responded. You silently worked, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Bucky’s eyes poring holes into your head.

"This world doesn't deserve you," Bucky muttered as you worked. You simply hummed in reply, making Bucky's forehead crease. "I mean it, Stark. You're one of the best people in this world."

Rolling your eyes, you put away the last of your tools. "Bucky, I'm just being a decent person."

Bucky's eyes burned with a new passion, "No decent person would do all you've done for everyone you've ever come across." Before you could protest, Bucky's metal hand grabbed your chin softly. "Don't even try to argue, I know it can be hard for a Stark but can you hold your tongue?" When you didn't reply, Bucky continued. "You're so humble, so fuckin' sweet. I mean, you came all this way just to fix my arm."

"And to check on you," Your voice came out babbled as Bucky's hold on your chin was still present.

"I don't deserve your kindness," Bucky admitted, "But here you are, giving me all of it." His eyes bore into your own, his own actions betraying his mind as he slammed his lips tightly onto your own. It took you by surprise, but you happily returned the heated kiss as Bucky's hand slithered behind your neck.

"You deserve all of it, the whole world," You mumbled as you pulled away breathlessly. "The world did you dirty, and I'll be the one to wash you of it." With your words, Bucky felt his eyes water as he kissed you passionately again.

Once you pulled apart, Bucky wiped your lips with his thumb, a small smile on his lips. "Does that mean you're gonna stick around?"

"Yeah," you giggled, "I think it does."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fic #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #bucky x you #bucky x reader #winter soldier #sebastian stan x reader

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a-b-riddle · 7 months ago

Text

Continuing this idea.

You should be scared. Very scared. Instead you were just stupid in thinking that this person who had repeatedly broke into your home, admitting to watching you, and completely invading your privacy didn’t mean you any harm.

Your logic that if he wanted to, he would have. You just hoped to god that your intuition about him was right. You had met monsters before. They didn’t make themselves known until it was too late.

But he was different. The small things he did to make your life easier weren’t things men intent on hurting you did. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have the opportunity to.

You had gotten a dog and a cat. A bonded pair that had been left when their family moved away, leaving the partners stranded.

When you came home with the adorable mutt you sent your shadow a cheeky text.

Don’t worry. I made sure he was good with men. Just not sure if he cares for masked ones.

More worried about the cat.

This little guy? Cheese is harmless. You attached a picture of your new orange cat sleeping peacefully on your couch.

You named the fucking thing Cheese?

Dog’s name is Mac.

That only earned you a thumbs down emoji.

It had been three weeks and you were certain he hadn’t been back into your apartment. You had to do mundane tasks again. Take out the trash. Get your mail from the box. You weren’t sure how he was managing that one.

It wasn’t until you got held up at work that you sent him a text. You felt like you were asking too much, but thankfully he had crossed the line from breaking into your place.

Could I ask a favor?

Almost instantly he sent back a reply.

You could

Can you take Mac out? I’m not gonna be out of here for another 3 hours. Another waitress quit last minute and I’m stuck here. 😭

You added the crying face for effect.

Could test out that biting theory.

He won’t bite you.

Wasn’t talking about the dog, Love.

Forty minutes later you got a picture of Mac looking up. His pink tongue hanging out of his mouth, looking up in excitement.

Be careful if you pass by the guy who hangs out back by the play area. Mac dislocated my arm this weekend being a little asshole and lunging after him.

Thought you said he wouldn’t bite.

Wouldn’t bite YOU. He’s a good judge of character.

He’s a good boy.

The following shifts, your shadow would send you photos. All of Mac. All outside. None giving you the slightest idea of what he looked like.

You gave him a heads up that you’d be able to take him out yourself. You don’t know how you’d react to finally meeting him. You could have easily stalked him as he had done you, but there wasn’t any fun in that. And he had made this fun.

You didn’t however count on Mac scratching at the door at 10 pm that night.

Or the next.

His entire schedule was thrown off. The vet said it was a UTI and your only options were keep letting him out as needed or he will try and hold it in and risk his bladder getting inflected. Or even his kidneys.

You were standing in the flood light at the edge of your apartment building when your phone buzzed.

You need to stop going out this late. Not safe.

Why? You text back, grinning. You’re out here too. Not anything to be afraid of.

Careful. Sounds like you like having me around.

Who says I don’t?

He didn’t respond. You try again.

Am I ever gonna be able to meet you?

Three dots appeared after moments of silence

Don’t think so pet.

What’s the point then? Isn’t a hunter’s goal is to get close to their prey?

Is that what you think you are to me? My prey?

You couldn’t tell if he was actually offended. Fuck. How do you make this better?

Is it bad if I want to be?

What the fuck? Your reaction was to turn things sexual? But you weren’t lying. You often found yourself imagining him, a masked stranger coming into your room while you slept. Looming over your defenseless body until the exact moment he decided to strike.

In an instant he would have your hands restrained and a palm covering your mouth. He’d tell you to hush. The fantasy hard to imagine in that moment when you wondered what he would sound like.

I’m not actually afraid of you, you know?

Oh really? Someone is feeling brave tonight. Going out into the dark. Taunting their stalker.

You swear your could feel your heart trying to beat out of your chest. He was into it. Just as much as you were. You thought maybe given the initial cute acts of service it was more of a guardian angel kind of thing.

It wasn’t until you noticed underwear missing did you know he was just as filthy as you hoped him to be. Even though you never brought it up. Too afraid to get in too deep with someone who could be a sociopath.

You could come and see how brave I am.

He didn’t respond immediately and Mac was done dribbling out the last hit of pee. You were in the stairway when your phone chiroed.

Fine. See you soon.

A picture followed. It was dark. So dark you had to turn up your brightness. When your eyes focused, your stomach dropped.

It was you.

A stilled image of you walking into the building your back turned. The image too clear to be taken from a distance. If you had to guess it was no more than ten feet away.

Ten feet away and you didn’t hear a fucking thing. Completely oblivious to the danger close by.

That night you had came so hard you had half a mind to text him a thank you for being the inspiration behind your bliss.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #stalker ghost #stalker bf

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elllisaaa · 7 months ago

Text

MR. POLICEMAN - C. SEUNGCHEOL

KINKTOBER DAY 14 - AGE DIFFERENCE

SUMMARY : "everybody knows that i'm a good girl, officer" is what you said to him when you got arrested for selling drugs. and despite seungcheol having a wife and kids, he can't help stumbling over his words when you ask to suck his cock in exchange for letting you go.

-> pairing : police officer!seungcheol x fem!reader

-> words count : 1.4k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : age difference (obviously), cheating, mention of drugs, oral (m. receiving), begging, dirty talk, deep throating, face fucking, cum eating, swearing, praising, hair pulling, dacraphylia, use of 'good girl'

+ the way i'm depicting seungcheol does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | svt masterlist | kinktober 2024

“- I didn’t even do anything !

- The marijuana we found in your apartment seems to tell otherwise. If you want advice, you should really confess. The judge is gonna be a lot more lenient if you do as I say.”

A pout formed on your face as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, turning your gaze away from the officer in front of you. If you found the little bastard that had reported you, he was not going to make it out alive, for sure. In your mind, you did nothing wrong. Drugs helped you relax and focus on your writing in a way that your normal state didn’t allow, what was the harm in that ?

“- It’s not mine, I don’t know why it was there. Everybody knows that I’m a good girl officer.

- I hear these lies at least four times a day, Miss L/N. You should really tell me the truth if you want to avoid a serious sentence.”

But his words were going through one ear and out of the other, your eyes fixed on his face and his attractive features. You must admit that the man was handsome, and that his uniform was suiting him perfectly. He was obviously way older than you, and a framed photograph of his wife and two kids was sitting on his desk. But that wouldn’t deter you from the idea that had formed into your mind. You locked your doe eyes with his again, your crossed arms pushing your boobs together and making them almost spill out of your top. You tried to contain your smirk as the eyes of the officer flickered down to your chest - everything was going according to your plan.

“- Okay… I did have some weed, but it’s only for me and my friends, to relax, you know ? We did nothing wrong…”

You saw him gulp down as you leaned over his desk, hands pressed on the cold wood and your boobs now directly in his line of sight. It was impossible for him to ignore them as they were right in front of his face. But he looked away to his computer, trying to appear busy. Your own eyes roamed around the things scattered on his desk, catching his first name on one of the papers.

“- Please, Officer Choi… I really don’t want to go to jail, can’t you help a girl who made a mistake ?”

Seungcheol should say no, he should frankly say that he could do nothing about it, that you must understand why you shouldn’t do it again. But the way your fingers were slowly crawling up his arm made his brain malfunction.

“- I… I can’t do that. It’s illegal.”

It was as if he needed to mention the law because it was the only thing holding him back from giving in to your advances and letting you go. He felt guilty, the ring around his finger seemed like it was burning when he looked at your lips for a little too long.

“- But, please, I swear I won’t do it again !

- That’s still illegal, there are laws for a reason.”

You pretended to think for a moment as your hand rested on his shoulder, like a reminder of how naughty all the things going through his head at that moment were.

“- I’ll do whatever you want if you let me go, I can… Repay you in other ways…”

Seungcheol was so unprepared for your bold proposal that he barely even reacted when you dropped to your knees and crawled under his desk until you could settle in between his legs, looking up at him with your hands placed high on his thick thighs.

“- Let me do something for you, yeah ? And I promise you’ll never hear from me ever again.

- You… Get up, I can't… I can’t let you do that.

- Please, you won’t regret it, I swear.”

Your sugary sweet voice, your big doe eyes and the way your palm was already rubbing against the bulge deforming his crotch were slowly making his resolve crumble. The uniform was only making him hotter, your eyes roaming around the way the muscles of his biceps tensed as he gripped the armrest of his desk chair, his jaw clenching as his gaze got darker.

“- Please, Officer Choi… I’ll be good, I promise.”

All Seungcheol needed was one more of your begs in that whiny voice for him to give you the green light. A grin stretched out your lips as you pushed his uniform pants down enough to free his cock. You licked your lips at the appealing sight, his length heavy in your hands as you spat on him and started to stroke him at a quick pace, your eyes never leaving his. His lips were parted, his cheeks lightly dusted in pink, and his gaze was filled with lust as you stuck out your tongue to kitten-lick at his tip.

“- Fuck… Take it into your mouth.”

You smiled at him, your ego inflating because you did manage to make him completely give up on his morals. You didn’t make him wait any longer, pushing half of his hard cock in between your lips, slowly working on relaxing your throat enough to take him whole into your mouth. With every inch that met your eager tongue and your warmth, Seungchol's breath became more and more unheavy, the sight of you on your knees for him, doing your best to convince him when he still had the power to send you to prison was delicious.

“- Shit… You feel so good…”

His praise made you moan around his cock just as his tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag and drool even more. You knew that you could get him to let you go if you did good enough, you knew that by the time you would have made him cum, he was going to be unable to keep you there anymore. So you doubled your efforts, bobbing your head up and down as you looked up at the way his face contorted in pleasure, at the way his parted lips were letting out the prettiest groans. His hips bucked up into your mouth, making you whimper and gag again around him, tears welling up in your eyes.

“- I’m gonna need more than that to let you go, angel. But if you let me fuck your tight, little throat, I might say yes.”

You hummed in approval, bringing one of his hands to the back of your head, letting him tangle his fingers in between your strands of hair. He hesitated for one second - one second that let you enough time to swirl your tongue around his cock in a way that made it impossible for him to hold back anymore. He put your hair up in a messy ponytail, tugging on it to force his cock to the hilt into your throat. The loud gagging noises you produced as he thrusted forward again and again were drowned out by his loud groans and grunts of your name. He shouldn't love what was happening right now, he shouldn't love the way he was bruising your throat, he shouldn't love the way tears were running down your face and ruining your mascara. He shouldn’t but he loved it, he loved it way more than he thought he would.

Your nails were digging into his thick, muscular thighs as Seungcheol fucked your throat. You could feel his big cock throbbing against your tongue, could feel that he was close. And maybe you shouldn’t love how humiliating this all was, maybe you shouldn’t love the fact that you were about to make this married man cum into your mouth, maybe you shouldn’t love how rough he was, but you did. You did and it encouraged you to hollow your cheeks around him, giving him that last rush of pleasure he needed to shoot his load down your throat. You did your best to swallow his cum, letting go of his cock to take a deep breath.

And then, you looked up at Seungcheol to find him already looking at you. His thumb came down to swipe up against your bottom lip, gathering the remains of his release to push them back into your mouth, groaning at the way you immediately sucked on his finger, cleaning it off his cum. He patted your cheek, covering it in your saliva.

“- You really are a good girl. You can go.”

Seungcheol made a promise to himself to never ever think about you again, even if your big doe eyes were haunting him day and night. But when he saw you sitting in his office, your hands handcuffed, only a few weeks later, with that same sultry smile and that same lust burning into your eyes, he quickly locked the door behind him, and he stopped thinking as soon as your lips made contact with his cock again.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

kinktober taglist (dm or comment to be added) :

svt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @heevllog @foxinnie8 @bewoyewo @jaderabbit-98 @lala-----------lala

@d-dilemma @bath1lda @anxiousskylar @mikaelless @leeknowinggg

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kinktober fic #seventeen fic #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #choi seungcheol #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol kinktober #scoups x reader #scoups #scoups smut

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revelboo · 7 months ago

Note

hiii, I love you and have been brainrotting over your works for the past 20 hours 🫶

I just write the silly things that pop into my head, but I’m glad, and surprised, other folks enjoy them.

Skin and Bones Pt 3

Megatron x reader- playful

• Shrill and painful as a something drilling straight into his processor, Megatron winces as the sound finally cuts off. An alarm or..? No, of course not. There’s the human running full tilt from an open doorway, Soundwave’s cassettes in pursuit. As Ravage pounces near, the human screeches again in mock fear despite their grin.

• They’re… playing? How long has it been since he’s heard any Cybertronians cutting up? Having fun. He just stops, not sure what to make of it. Especially as Rumble catches the human around the waist to sling over a shoulder upside down. Prey caught, the cassettes finally notice him and go still. It takes the squirming human longer, but their grin fades when they realize the fun is over and spot him.

• And even thought they’re all grown, they react like sparklings caught doing something wrong- they all bolt, Rumble dropping the human in his haste.

• That jerk. You land mostly on your shoulder and back in an inelegant sprawl, staring upside down as Rumble runs like all of hell is right on his heels. Which might not be too far off, you decide as you roll to your knees and keep your head down. Because the Decepticon leader is staring at you with a frown so severe you want to hide and there’s nowhere to go.

• Venting heavily, he kneels down to offer you a single servo, his big hand hovering close as if he wants to pick you up, but isn’t sure. Cautiously, you grab onto that servo and allow him to gently pull you to your feet before letting go. And he just stares at that servo in silence. Probably wondering what all germs you just got on him, you guess. He certainly doesn’t look happy about it and your shoulders droop slightly.

• “Do you fear me?” He asks, not quite sure why when he knows the inevitable answer. Fear is the currency he’s learned best how to spend over the decades. It keeps his motley ranks mostly in line. He’d accepted a long time ago that it was better to be feared than loved. Safer, too.

• Head tipping back to stare up at the huge mech, it’s a surprise to realize that, no, you don’t exactly fear him. He’s had plenty of chances to hurt you and hasn’t. Oddly enough, Skywarp is much scarier. This one? The big, bad warlord? Honestly, he just seems too exhausted all the time to bother with being a threat. Though, come to think of it, you have seen the other side, too. Little glimpses of an ice cold, barely restrained violence in his tone when speaking with his subordinates. Apparently, you’re not worth the doom voice. “Should I?”

• Probably. He’s not sure if it’s naïveté or bravery when you meet his optics, seeming genuinely curious about his answer. “Why were they chasing you?” He asks instead.

• Nose wrinkling as he ignores your question, you shrug. You’re an adult, but yeah, it’s not like it really matters what the giant aliens think about you. You get bored. “Playing tag,” you admit. And losing badly at tag, because you’re so much slower than they are. His stare is still blank and you throw out your arms. “Someone’s it. They have to tag someone else to not be it. Being it is bad,” you ramble.

• More silence. You’re definitely being judged by an ancient, evil robot. Exasperation winning out over caution, you lunge over to swat his servo. Hard. “You’re it.” Glowing red optics slide from his servo to you and you still have no idea what he’s thinking. What you’re thinking? You really, really wish you hadn’t done that. “No tag backs,” you yelp, realizing his retaliation is likely to smear you on the floor.

• Instead he vents softly, rises and stalks away. For a second, one corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. You suppose evil warlords don’t play games. Probably ruins the whole evil appearance he has going. Heart racing, you start back toward Soundwave’s quarters, not at all surprised when Frenzy and the other cassettes are waiting around a corner safely out of range of retaliation to ambush you. And you’re it again.

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#transformers #idw megatron #megatron x reader

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sugarlywhispers · 2 years ago

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b.katsuki + lava Quirk!wife (both Pro Heroes)

☆—a.n; i woke up today feeling feisty lol not really xd just wanted some "i'm crazy as you are" type of love today lmao✌🏼🖤

Bakugou Katsuki is obsessed with you.

And he doesn't even try to hide it.

You're his sidekick. You had trained in his Agency since you were a mere brat doing your internship your first year at UA. Of course, there were literally counted the times you had encountered him in person. The other Heroes that joined his Agency were the ones in charge of the kids. They had told you how Dynamight hated when babysitting time came every year, he wouldn't even participate in those actually. So they would advice to not cross his path.

From time to time, Dynamight would watch their sparrings sessions, gave them a bit of advice–more like mean criticism yell at them. But he had better things to do, people to save, villains to get their asses destroyed by him. He was not going to waste his time with annoying brats like you.

He had heard of you, of course. The one brat that could control and handle freaking lava like it was fucking nothing. Of course when he saw you, he thought his sidekick had pulled a prank on him, joking to see if would be excited about the idea of having someone with that type of Quirk in his Agency. You couldn't be the one with the lava quirk. You looked... normal. Quirkless even–if this were other times and if he would judge people about it. He had changed, okay? Thank you very fucking much. But he did think it was impossible that you were that amazing brat the other heroes were talking about. They had even compared you to him, in witty and determination to become the number one Pro Hero on the ranks, in strength and no mercy against villains, or other heroes and classmates.

When he stood right in front of you one day, towering almost three heads over you and almost one more person's size to the side, Dynamight laughed. You looked like a little bunny caught red-handed, terrified by everyone around you–especially by the size of him–and skittish, almost like what Deku had been as a kid.

That should have been a first warning for Bakugou–never judge a book by its cover.

You have trained in his Agency the three years you had been in UA, and he has never once seen you nor your Quirk on display, nevertheless in real action. He had only heard how good you were in trainings from the other heroes. But he didn't care enough to actually sought-after. He was already fighting Deku for the number one spot on the rankings, he didn't have time for brats like you.

Until one day, a dangerous villain, that created enormous monsters of metal almost to the size of a ten flour building, was causing too much disaster appeared. It was more than chaos, it had been a destruction like no other.

Dynamight nor Deku could contain the motherfucker.

He was bruised, his hands beat with agony at the amount of times he had used his blasts and the push to keep going, his body muscles were screaming for him to stop. A quick glance to his side where Deku was, and the guy wasn't better than him, breathing like his lungs couldn’t no more. Every other hero in the scene was in the same shape.

They were fucking losing.

And then, like an angel sent from heaven–or better said, a demon sent from the deepest hell for the way you fucking looked, you appeared in all your majestic glory, lava making you slide in between them, surrounding you like it was nothing, like strings coming from inside your body, and began a new fight with that fucking villain's monsters.

Bakugou saw –an enamored expression on his face– how you your whole demeanor changed, your skin, your eyes, everything in you became so menacingly, so evil looking, so freaking scary, that if you weren't training to be a Hero, he thought you would be one the most terrifying villains of all times –even more than that piece of shit AFO.

The lava was visible in all your body, and you fought, a crazed smile and eyes opened wide, enjoying the damage you were doing to the metal monsters; your joy was shining bright for everyone to see, as you yelled, "DIE, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" as the monster melted under your hands and body.

He was captivated, fucking spellbound, by the sight in front of him. He fell to his knees, watching you melt every single one of the monster in one more movement of your hand, as lava flowed towards them, capturing and melting them as you stand straight, the expression on your face serious and deadly. You then walked towards the source, the main villain who was creating this chaos, and the guy literally fell to the floor in fear, trying to crawl away from you in tears. When you stood before him, you crouched to his level, and smiled devilishly.

The villain pissed his pants.

And Bakugou's cock twitched.

He then murmured, "I'm gonna marry the shit out that woman."

Deku chuckled, shaking his head and letting his body fall to ground in tiredness. Everything was okay now.

From then on, you were by Dynamight's side all the time. The second you graduated –Bakugou Katsuki of fucking course attended the graduation ceremony– he offered a job on his Agency for you. And you said yes, even though you had options like Deku's Agency, or Hawk's, and even Endeavor had offered you a big place on his, trying to win you by saying that most of his sidekicks were fire-like Quirks and that his mother had a Quirk similar to yours, he could ask her for advice for you. Bakugou's stomach turned thinking he might had won you over that. But before he could finish the sentence, "Would you like a spot on my Ag–", you exclaimed a big YES, smiling warmly and eyes shining in excitement.

He had to clear his throat and look away at your expression, making something tingle in his chest. Was that his heart?

You became his partner then, in missions, in interviews, in meetings with other Agencies when some big villain appeared and they had to join forces. You were always there, not behind him but next to him.

In interviews he would always let you speak about how everything went and thank every body who helped. But Katsuki would look at you. Look as the lava started to dissipate from your skin, slowly turning down the temperature and going back to your normal color. Your hair that became liquid lava slowly became the color of greyish-black rock and then smoothed its way to your normal texture and color. He always felt mesmerized watching the process, and he would look at it any opportunity he got.

It wasn't until one night out with his old friends that Pikachu said, "Dude, tone down your thirst a lil' bit," in between laughs with Raccoon Eyes and Shitty Hair.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Kirishima patted his back, shaking his head, "Your sidekick, man. The lava girl?"

"What?"

"What we are trying to say," Mina smirked, "is that everytime you look at her, its almost palpable the way you want to eat her."

Bakugou gulped. "Shut the fuck up. I don't look at her like that."

Mina winked at him, "If you say so..."

That night he searched on the internet in his phone for interviews, desperately. Fuck, his friends were right. He did look at you with a fascination and hunger he had never saw himself do. He remembered thinking about marrying you back in the days, but that had been the heat of the moment, right? This annoyed the shit out of him. But watching you again in those videos, as you smiled so kindly to the reporters or other Hero friends or to even civilians while looking so freaking scary when your Quirk was activated, made something stir inside his belly.

Fuck, you're gorgeous. You're everything he didn't know he wanted.

And that's when he decided he would not hide his feelings for you anymore.

So now, a few years after, when you are married to number two Pro Hero Dynamight, people always talk about how your husband always looks at you. How he always encourages you in your fights to "kill those fucking piece of shits, baby!!" as he is very close to you fighting his own set of shitty villains and you encourage him saying "show them who is the number two hero, love!" He looses it then, a blast that ends it all.

They talk about how he would always kiss you after a fight, even after all that adrenaline that makes him want to bury himself deep inside your warmth, he only holds your face gently, gloved thumbs caressing your cheeks lovingly, eyes locked onto each other like the world doesn't exist outside that moment, and he kisses you softly, a simple touch, a cute press of lips that lasts a millisecond so he doesn't burn the skin of his face and lips. And then he pulls one of your hands with his up in victory.

He didn't only win the battles, he won you each and every time he got to simply look at you, be next to you, kiss you.

He is obsessed with you, and he doesn't want to fucking hide it from the world.

#mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha smut #bnha smut #mha bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki x reader #mha bakugou x reader #mha bakugou

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hans-wh0re · 4 days ago

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FRICTION

Synopsis: There's something seriously wrong with your boyfriend, and it's called chronic humping syndrome. or the one where Changbin literally cannot stop grinding against you (or anything that smells like you) for even five minutes, and tonight he's more desperate than you've ever seen him. W.C: 2.5 K Pairing: changbin x afab reader smut tags: humping kink, desperate grinding, dry humping, clothing ruining, thigh riding, clothed sex, possessive behavior (kinda?), multiple orgasms, begging, whimpering, precum soaking, rutting, unprotected sex, cream!pie, overstimulation .... A.N: this has been sitting on my drafts for a while. I'm not 100% satisfied with it, but i haven't written anything these past few days due to health issues, so i figured i'd post something. Anyways enjoy.

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You've barely put your key in the lock when you hear that familiar, telltale whimpering from behind your apartment door.

"Fuck" you mutter, already knowing exactly what you're about to walk in on.

The door swings open to reveal your living room and, more importantly, your boyfriend Changbin on your couch. He's face-down, fully clothed, desperately rutting against what appears to be—yep, that's definitely your favorite hoodie wadded up beneath him. His hips pump frantically, the fabric of his sweatpants stretched tight across his ass as he grinds his cock against your clothing with single-minded determination.

He's so lost in it that he doesn't even notice you standing there, watching as he humps your hoodie like a teenager who just discovered what his dick is for. The little desperate whines escaping his throat make your pussy clench involuntarily, and pathetic as it is, the sight of him grinding against anything that smells like you never fails to turn you on.

"Couldn't even make it to the bedroom this time?" you ask, dropping your bag by the door.

Changbin's head whips around, his eyes wide and glazed with arousal. His hips don't stop moving though, not even for a second.

"You're home," he gasps, his voice strained. "Early."

"And you're humping my clothes. Again." You kick off your shoes, oddly calm about finding your grown-ass boyfriend dry-humping your hoodie on the couch. This isn't exactly a rare occurrence.

"Missed you," he groans, still grinding. "Needed—needed something."

You approach the couch, taking in the state of him. His hair is disheveled, forehead glistening with sweat, and there's a large wet spot at the front of his gray sweatpants where his cock has been leaking. He looks wrecked, and judging by the stuttering rhythm of his hips, he's close to coming but trying to hold back now that you're here.

"How long have you been at this?" you ask, genuinely curious. Sometimes Changbin can go for hours, just rutting against various surfaces like a dog in heat.

"Since—fuck—since you left for work," he admits, his hips still moving in desperate little circles. "Been so hard all day. Couldn't stop thinking about you."

Nine hours. He's been humping your stuff for nine fucking hours.

"Have you even eaten?" you ask, though you already know the answer. When Changbin gets like this, everything else ceases to exist.

He shakes his head, whimpering as a particularly good thrust sends a visible shudder through his body. "Just needed this. Need you more though. Please—"

The desperation in his voice makes your core throb with arousal despite your better judgment. It should be ridiculous, pathetic even, to find a grown man humping your clothes this hot. But there's something about the raw need Changbin displays and the way he completely loses himself in seeking friction, that never fails to ignite your own desire.

"Let me change first," you say, stepping back. "And you should probably drink some water if you've been at this all day."

"No," he whines, reaching for you. "Please, just—just let me—"

You know what he wants. What he always wants. With a sigh that's more for show than actual exasperation, you step closer again, presenting your leg.

Changbin abandons your hoodie immediately, scrambling to position himself against your thigh with an urgency that would be comical if it weren't so genuinely desperate. He hooks one leg over yours, pressing his sweatpants-covered cock against you, and groans in relief.

"Fuck," he breathes, his eyes falling closed as he starts to move. "Needed this so bad."

You stand there in your work clothes, your boyfriend attached to your leg like some kind of horny koala, rutting against you with an intensity that should be embarrassing but is somehow just… Changbin.

"Better than my hoodie?" you ask, unable to keep the amusement from your voice despite the heat building between your own legs.

"So much better," he whimpers, his movements growing more frantic. "Nothing feels as good as you. Nothing."

His hips work against your thigh in a desperate rhythm, his cock hard and leaking through his sweatpants. You can feel the dampness seeping through to your skin, evidence of just how worked up he truly is.

"Please don't stop me," he begs, voice breaking. "I'm so close. Been edging all day. Need to come so bad."

You reach down to stroke his hair, oddly tender despite the absolute filth of the situation. "Go ahead, baby. Make a mess for me."

That's all the permission Changbin needs. His hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as he grinds himself hard against your thigh. A broken moan tears from his throat as he comes, his body shuddering against yours. You can feel the warmth spreading through his sweatpants as he pumps his release against your leg, his face contorted in pleasure.

For a moment, you think that might be enough to take the edge off. That maybe, just maybe, you can now change clothes and have a normal evening with your boyfriend.

You should know better by now.

Changbin's hips slow but don't stop, his cock still hard against your thigh despite the impressive wet patch spreading across the front of his pants. He looks up at you, his eyes dark and hungry.

"Need more," he whispers, almost apologetic. "Still so hard."

You sigh, resigned to your fate. "Let me at least change first."

Changbin whines but reluctantly detaches himself from your leg, already palming his cock through his soaked sweatpants as you walk toward the bedroom. You know without looking that his eyes are fixed on your ass, tracking your movements like prey.

The second you're in the bedroom, you hear him behind you, his breathing already labored again. You don't even make it to the closet before his front is pressed against your back, his cock grinding insistently against your ass.

"Binnie," you warn, though there's no real heat in it. "At least let me get out of my work clothes."

"Take them off," he agrees, but makes no move to step back, continuing to rut against you as you attempt to unbutton your blouse. "God, your ass feels so good."

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he grinds himself against you in tight circles. You can feel how wet his sweatpants are from his earlier orgasm, the dampness transferring to the back of your skirt.

"You're ruining my clothes," you point out, finally managing to shrug off your blouse despite Changbin's octopus-like attachment to your backside.

"I'll buy you new ones," he promises, his voice strained. "Need this more than you need that skirt."

You can't argue with that logic, not when his desperation is so palpable. You reach back to unzip your skirt, letting it fall to the floor and leaving you in just your underwear and bra. Changbin moans at the increased access, his cock now grinding directly against your panty-covered ass.

"Much better," he groans, his movements becoming more frantic. "Fuck, you feel so good. Been thinking about this all day."

"I can tell," you say dryly, reaching back to unhook your bra. "You couldn't even make it five minutes without humping something."

Changbin doesn't deny it, too far gone in his pleasure to formulate a defense. His hands slide around to cup your breasts as soon as your bra falls away, earning a small moan that went straight to his cock, his hips never ceasing their relentless grinding against your ass.

"Can't help it," he admits, his voice breaking on a particularly good thrust. "Just need it so bad. Need you so bad."

You turn in his arms, pushing him back just enough to get a good look at him. His sweatpants are absolutely ruined, soaked through with cum and precum, clinging obscenely to his still-hard cock. His t-shirt is rumpled and damp with sweat, his pupils blown wide with arousal.

"You're a mess," you tell him, but there's fondness in your voice. "Take off those pants first."

Changbin scrambles to comply, shoving his sweatpants down his legs with such urgency that he nearly trips. His cock springs free, angry red and glistening wet, bouncing against his stomach. It's clear from how swollen and sensitive it looks that he's been playing with himself all day, probably edging for hours before finally letting himself come against your thigh.

"Your shirt too," you direct, stepping out of your own panties and moving toward the bed. "Since you can't keep yourself under control for even five minutes, we might as well do this properly."

Changbin nearly rips his shirt in his haste to remove it, his eyes never leaving your naked body. The moment you sit on the edge of the bed, he's there, positioning himself between your legs, his cock sliding against your inner thigh.

"Can I?" he asks, breathless with need. "Please, baby, I need to—"

"Yes," you cut him off, spreading your legs wider. "But you're going to make me come first."

Changbin nods frantically, dropping to his knees in front of you. But instead of using his mouth like a normal person might, he grips your thighs and pulls you forward until your pussy is pressed against his cock. Then he starts to rut, sliding his shaft through your folds without entering you, the underside dragging against your clit with each movement.

"Fuck," you gasp, surprised by how good it feels. Changbin might be obsessed with grinding, but he's perfected the technique over countless sessions.

"So wet already," he groans, his eyes fixed on where his cock slides through your slick heat. "Love how wet you get for me. Fuck. Love how you let me hump you wherever, whenever I need it."

His shameless admission should be a turn-off, but instead, it sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. There's something undeniably hot about how completely gone he is for you, how he can't control himself around you or even things that remind him of you.

Changbin's hips work in frantic circles, his cock sliding through your folds with increasing urgency. The tip bumps against your clit with each pass, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

"I-i'm gonna come again," he whimpers, sounding almost pained. "Fuckkk. Can't hold back. Feels too good."

"Wait," you command voice barely audible over Changbin's moans, gripping his shoulders. "Inside me this time."

You don't have to tell him twice. Changbin surges forward, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance and pushing in with one smooth thrust. But instead of pulling back to establish a proper rhythm, he grinds deep inside you, his pubic bone pressed firmly against your clit.

"Fuck," he groans, his head dropping to your shoulder as his hips work in tight circles. "Nothing feels as good as this. Nothing in the whole fucking world."

The constant pressure against your g-spot and clit has you seeing stars, your hands clutching at his back as pleasure builds rapidly. Changbin's movements grow more desperate, his cock twitching inside you as he fights to hold back his orgasm.

"L-let me feel you-fuck- come," he begs, his voice wrecked. "Need to feel you squeezing my cock. Please, baby, come for me."

His words, combined with the relentless grinding, push you over the edge. Your walls clench around him as pleasure washes through you, pulling a broken moan from your throat.

Changbin follows immediately, unable to resist the feeling of your pussy pulsing around him. He grinds deep into you as he comes, whimpering your name against your skin, his entire body shaking with the force of his release.

For a moment, you both stay frozen, catching your breath. Then, almost imperceptibly, Changbin's hips start to move again.

"Binnie!," you groan, oversensitive. "Seriously?"

He looks at you with an expression that's half apologetic, half desperate. Again. "Can't help it," he admits, his cock somehow still hard inside you despite coming twice already. "Just need a little more."

You fall back on the bed, resigned to your fate. "Fine. But I'm not moving. You do all the work."

Changbin's face lights up, as if you've just offered him the greatest gift imaginable instead of grudgingly allowing him to continue rutting against—well, inside—you.

"Thank you," he breathes, positioning himself over you, his hips already resuming their grinding motion. "Promise I'll make it good for you too."

And somehow, he does. Despite the absurdity of the situation, despite the fact that your boyfriend seems physically incapable of not humping something for more than five minutes at a time, he knows exactly how to move to bring you pleasure.

His grinding continues, relentless in its precision, hitting spots inside you that make your toes curl. His hands find your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples as his hips maintain their circular rhythm.

"Could do this forever," he groans, his face contorted in pleasure. "Just grinding inside you, feeling you so tight and wet around me. Nothing better than this."

You believe him. The single-minded focus with which Changbin approaches humping, whether it's against your thigh, your ass, your hoodie, or now, inside you—borders on religious devotion.

"You're so fucking weird," you tell him, but your body betrays you, responding to his movements with building pleasure.

Changbin just laughs, breathless and strained. "You love it," he counters, grinding particularly deep. "Love how desperate I get for you. How I can't control myself."

He's not wrong. There's something deeply flattering about being wanted this intensely, this constantly. About having a boyfriend who's so obsessed with you that even your laundry can get him off in a pinch.

"Gonna come again," he warns, his rhythm faltering slightly. "Fuck, I can't—can't stop—"

"Do it," you urge, your own pleasure mounting as his grinding becomes more erratic. "Fill me up again."

Your words send him over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you as he comes for the third time. The feeling of his release flooding your sensitive walls triggers your own orgasm, less intense than the first but longer, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Changbin collapses on top of you, his cock still buried inside you, his hips still making tiny, involuntary movements even as he fights to catch his breath.

"Thank you," he mumbles against your neck, pressing sloppy kisses to your skin. "Needed that so bad."

You stroke his hair, that is stuck on his forehead from the filth of the past hour. "I know you did, baby. Feel better now?"

He nods, then hesitates. "Maybe… maybe one more time? In a little bit?"

You can't help but laugh at his endless appetite. "What are you? A humping machine?"

Changbin lifts his head to look at you, his expression surprisingly earnest. "Only for you," he says. "Nothing else feels right. No one else feels right."

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten with unexpected emotion. Because as ridiculous as his humping habit is, as inconvenient as it can be, there's something undeniably special about being the sole focus of such intense desire.

"I love you," you tell him, meaning it despite everything. "Even if you're a horny little freak who can't keep his dick to himself for five minutes."

Changbin grins, unashamed. "Love you too," he says, already beginning to harden inside you again. "Now, about that one more time…"

As his hips start their familiar grinding rhythm, you resign yourself to another round, and probably several more after that. Because that's life with Changbin.

And honestly? You wouldn't have it any other way.

#skz #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz changbin #changbin x reader #stray kids changbin #changbin smut #changbin imagines #changbin stray kids #kpop smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader

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