#its making me crazy suspicious
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dissociative-degenerate · 1 year ago
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He stresses me out. I feel like I'm going to puke. Who the fuck is he talking to, he doesn't tell me shit. Lord knows I never see his phone.
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oceanwithouthermoon · 11 months ago
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https://x.com/d3kutism/status/1741579841764475157?s=46
it should be illegal to be this fucking stupid so loudly and confidently omg..
mfs on the internet preach about "media literacy" yet they completely gloss over the fact that the only damn things that kusuo "canonically" is are a tsundere, an unreliable narrator, and a fucking liar LMFAOOO.. babe thats like basic reading comprehension, im sorry..
EDIT: it should go without saying not to send a person hate just because of a silly post like this one(+i dont have any reach anyway so im sure it wouldnt happen, but i wanna say this nonetheless lol) but i would just like to say that i just checked and realized that this person is 15 years old, so like... yeah, too young to be arguing with grown people on the internet. dont take this too serious or send this person hate pls lol..
#nobody who isnt aroace is allowed to tell ME what character has to be aroace#yall forget that we aroaces (+ESPECIALLY autistic aroaces) dont want or need your ugly white knight savior bs#'oh but im aroace n i also think hes aroace🤓' ok?? should i care about your hcs?#have your projection hcs or your regular random hcs- i literalky DONT care#but it becomes an issue when u try so desperately to defend it like this#like babe u sound so dumb☠️#its so confusing to me how u chronically online weirdos insist on making ur hcs canon#i promise u guys ur hcs dont have to be canon for u to enjoy them#its a VERY popular hc too like tf more do u want#im autistic and aroace and i say kusuo is demi and autistic#i am him and he is me so i know factually/j#so still on the aroace spectrum but either way i dont force my hcs on other people like u selfish weirdos do LOL#also this person and the replies being like 'just cuz not all autistic ppl r aroace doesnt mean none can be' YEA OBVIOUSLY?#UR ARGUING WITH THE WALL AND ITS CRAZY CUZ NOBODY EVER SAID THAT#literally not one fucking person said he cant be aroace- just that it isnt canon#do u even fucking hear urselves.. YOURE the ones saying he cant be anything other than aroace.. so YOURE the one doing the forcing..#u guys love pushing ur stereotypes on others and then defending it to high fucking hell#anyway sorry i dont have a public twitter so im saying my piece here#the link looks suspicious as hell twitter pwease give me a better link#saiki k#tdlosk#the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki kusuo#meows post
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scalene-triangles · 8 months ago
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send help im combining 2 things i like
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Awhile ago I was thinking about how some aspects of the ending of Metal Gear Solid 2 can link up with the ideas and themes of Deltarune, and now I've given the fun squad some mgs2-style designs! Kris is Raiden (makes sense if you've seen the end of mgs2), Susie is Iroquois Pliskin and Solid Snake, Ralsei is Otacon, Noelle is Rosemary
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good-beanswrites · 1 year ago
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Could I request "cooking is an art form" with mahiru and presumbly orekoto? I read your Night drabble of those 2 and now the idea of a potential friendship has been stuck in my mind for days, that was probably the sweetest interpretation of him I've seen! Mahiru can't cook in the current state she's in though so I guess orekoto could act as her hands...?
Ah thank you so much!! I was so worried about doing Orekoto justice, that's so exciting you enjoyed 😭 We still don't have a ton of characterization for him, so bear with me, but I absolutely loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request -- with food playing such an important role in Mahiru's story/symbolism, and the pair's unique relationship, this made me so crazy to think about !!!
The knife twirled through Mikoto’s hands. He brought it down with a grunt. Emotion pulsed through his veins. He went back for another swipe, much harder than necessary. He wiped spatter from his face.
“You’re making a mess.” Mahiru observed from behind. 
He glanced back to find her scowling at the tomato he was taking out his frustration on. “Who gives a shit? We’re not on cleanup duty.” 
He wasn’t supposed to be on cooking duty, either. It was Mahiru’s night according to their usual rotation, but she was in no shape to do any physical activity. Mikoto must have volunteered, and also gotten into some fight about it, because now there he stood: angry at an unknown source, full of adrenaline, and worst of all, in charge of tonight’s curry.
“I suppose…” Mahiru said. “I think that’s Muu tonight, I’ll apologize to her later.”
It was unsettling, how she remained positively cheery as she walked him through each step of the recipe, despite her current condition and his bad attitude. Not that he’d ever turn his anger on her. Mikoto approved of her, and that was enough for him. She’d been going through so much at the hands of their common enemy, he wouldn’t say a single thing against her. Even as she tested his temper with her cooking instructions.
“No, no!” With her good hand, she tugged on the side of his uniform. “You have to turn the carrot as you cut it. Like -- yes, like that!”
Mikoto rolled his eyes as he did what he was told. “It’s all going to get cooked together anyways, it’s not a big deal.”
“It is! You have to take your time with things like this.” She placed her hand over her heart. “It’s about the process, not just the final product. Cooking is an art form!”
“It’s about the final product to me. I’m fucking starving.” 
She was briefly distracted with the next set of instructions, telling him how to combine everything over how much heat. When she returned to the topic, her lighthearted voice was laced with a bit of desperation. “I mean it, there’s something magical about pouring your heart into something for someone else. Putting in your time. A little finesse here and there.”
“I know what it’s like to do something for someone else -- and there is absolutely no finesse involved. Or potatoes.” He gestured to the cut pieces before dumping everything into the pot over the stove.
“One of the most universal love languages is food, you know? People make meals and treats for their loved ones in every culture, in every time.” 
“They do a lot of other things, too.”
“You went to art school, you understand. This is an expression of yourself!”
“It’s a waste of time.”
“It’s the surest way to help someone!”
“That’s a load of bullshit.”
There was a pause. Then a nervous laugh. Then, “yeah.” As she dropped into more uncharacteristic silence, he stole a glance at her. 
Tears poured from her eyes. 
“Mahiru?” Fuck, he didn’t mean to make her cry.
“It is.” she hiccuped. “I thought… I thought it could save him. I made this big meal… I thought… But I was so stupid…”
She buried her face in her hands, offering weak apologies for the sudden outburst. He threw the lid over the pot before stepping back to her.
“Hey, hey. Come on. Don’t cry.” It was a command rather than a comfort. 
She didn’t listen. She just continued sobbing and blubbering on. “It was all stupid, worthless… I should have known…”
He crouched by the wheelchair. There didn’t even seem to be anything wrong, they’d just been talking about food. Why was she such a mess? He gave an impatient sigh. No reaction. What was Mikoto’s nickname for her again? “Listen, Mappi --”
She snapped her head up to look at him. 
Her teary eyes flicked all over his face, making him scowl. “What?”
“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed, though her breath still hitched. “Sorry. You said… and well… I thought you’d gone away. I want you to stay.” She took his hand. “You.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because you understand me.” 
He did not. Like, at all. But he kept his mouth shut.
Thankfully, she was too talkative not to explain herself. “You love someone very much. That love turned out to be dangerous -- deadly. And you weren’t forgiven for it.” She pressed her lips together, suppressing the wave of emotion that almost overcame her. “And now we’re both getting what we deserve for it.”
“Like hell we are.” He felt the spark of rage again. “Neither of us deserve any of this shit, okay?”
“But --”
“No.” He glared at her. That familiar fire rose up inside him. “I’m tired of all your speeches and optimistic crap. You’re always falling over yourself for others. You’re pathetic. This place is hell, so you need to get your shit together and act like it. You might be willing to forgive the others, you might be able to treat them with that stupid sweetness all the time, but no one’s going to do the same for you. Stop letting them fuck with you.”
She gaped at him. He realized he’d leaned in very close. He prepared himself for more tears, or maybe some cowering away from him. Good. Mikoto didn’t need people like her who would convince him this verdict was deserved. He didn’t need any of these people. It was fine to push them all away.
Mahiru surprised him by leaning over. Her head rested on his chest. “It’s hard. It’s so hard, Mikoto. But… I’ll try.”
His attention was quickly ripped away by a hissing behind him. He yanked himself away from her to run to the curry, which was bubbling and burning and spilling out of the pan all over the stovetop. 
With an outpouring of profanities and clattering of dishes, he cleaned the sad remains of dinner off the burner. When he looked back at Mahiru, she had dabbed at her eyes and composed herself slightly. 
“It’s okay,” she said, “I’ll pick something easier you can make instead.”
“Nah, I’ll make more curry. Tell me how much of everything again.” 
“A-alright.” 
His agitation slowly faded as she began her gentle instructions again. Though he had just tore her apart for it, he was grateful for her patience with everyone around her. He probably could have left, then, seeing how calm the kitchen became. But he wasn’t risking ruining the meal a second time with an unexpected switch. 
And maybe Mahiru’s words still played through his mind.
The food was back on the stove in no time. He stood diligently next to it. They’d lapsed into a content silence. He still didn’t know what had set her off earlier, but wasn’t about to ask questions.
Mahiru had regained her usual bright smile. “Hey, when I get better, I’ll cook something for you, okay? I think you don’t appreciate cooking because no one’s made something special for you before. I want to do that.”
He sneered. “Heh, sure. And I’ll let you in on my preferred art form.” His words were layered with sarcasm. By now, she could guess that included destroying things by putting all of one’s might behind a powerful swing. 
But she giggled, completely unfazed. “Well, friendship is about give and take, right? I’d love to try.”
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t4tstarvingdog · 2 months ago
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had the craziest nightmare today. hit every nightmare genre and added a new one just for me
#timothy's txts.#late getting off my break at work for my worst manager BUT at the worst place i worked#walked into my manager in a meeting with EVERY head person in our district and they all chided me for being late and told me to hurry and#then i couldn’t find my apron#and then the street turned into a riot with cars being targeted by rockets and pedestrians being. also hit by rockets ?#this lady and i were by each other and we were like well normally we wouldn’t steal these motorbikes (they were hot pink though and swag as#hell) and then we started trying to escape but my seat was too high so i couldn’t drive safely#eventually we made it to her house with a small group of my coworkers / friends#and then a coworker i really liked got targeted and killed bc of me and the killers were shouting my name and hunting me down#so i go inside this lady’s house and it’s huge and honestly really nice#and i’m like hey do you have a toolbox PLEASE i need an alan wrench to lower the seat so i can drive safely and get away#and she was like yeah second floor#i asked which room? give me a landmark of the room so i don’t search every one#and she said it’s directly on the landing you can’t miss it#i go upstairs (the people hunting me in a red minivan have pulled up to her house and are suspiciously pulling all around it and backing up#and looking in the windows and i don’t know if this lady would sell me out) and ITS A TOY HOUSE. ???!??? not a toolbox…#so i’m searching but the people come in so i’m running through rooms and being quiet and make my way down to the basement that connects to#the garage and look desperately for a fucking alan wrench and they’re getting closer and i go through a small closet and there’s a trap door#and i go in there where there’s another hidden door and i finally get to the garage#and i find a tool box and decide to write the lady a note thanking her and telling her why i left so quickly#but all the papers i find are filled with scary notes and i’m wondering why they make me so uneasy#until i realize they’re notes that were written to Me from. a guy who really fucked me up#and one of them says ‘trans hot’ and i literally go :( i don’t want to be trans hot…#<- specifically from him because of the issues.#and then i realize that he’s the one hunting me down to Get me (the red van was irl his family’s car lmao)#and i’m panicking in an increasing amount and i won’t be able to get to the motorbike and escape with my coworkers and friends#and then my sibling woke me up asking if i wanted a breakfast sandwich or pancakes. so. crazy dream to have at nine in the morning#ask to tag
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sea-buns · 1 year ago
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I can't help but be so unsettled by Bor'dor's questions in the recent ep. And I wonder if it's just me having a poor read, but like Deni$e was asking some of the same things and I felt completely fine with her. First of all, I wish the "Was he born evil?" had been corrected at the table. No one is born evil. I feel like even in the twisted and chaotic world of Exandria, this should still resonate the same. Even from the standpoint of a guy who's lived such a simple black/white existence– it felt like an incredibly radical statement.
But then asking how many people they killed? And being incredibly insistent about it?? "Do you think you killed enough?" It was never about killing as many people as possible. It was just about killing one guy. And if his followers got in their way you kinda have no choice but to fight back or give up now and it all goes to waste. But was that an odd question or had the team just not been clear enough the many times they described their enemy in past discussions? I felt like they had been... but then again I'm as invested as they are, fully capable of forgetting to include info that would be vital to someone who had never even seen a wizard until a few days ago.
There was just something to Bor'dor that felt incredibly off. No one of bells hells ever set any expectations that these three would join them after they found a way off the continent. His talk with Orym in the last ep was very supportive and kind and gentle. But this discussion felt like a complete 180. There was an air and tone to it all that seemed so aggressive and accusatory. The stark contrast from "if this is so important to you I hope you succeed. I'll help where I can while we're together" to the "is this what you wanted? Are you satisfied? What makes you think you can change anything? You should just cut your losses and go home" had me reeling. I feel a bit trapped between being genuinely suspicious and doubting my judgement cuz maybe I'm just not reading it right.
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fungi-maestro · 1 year ago
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God I saw such a bad opinion earlier and I don't want to post too much about it in case the person who posted it sees this. So I will just generalize and say that reducing character dynamics down to "badass man" and "damsel in distress" is downright criminal. When will people stop having bad opinions about characters I like.
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todayisafridaynight · 1 year ago
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Pssst, I'm messing with their brain and showing them your art to make them into a Masato simp 😈 I'm so evil
showing them my art is like air dropping them straight into chernobyl you're going to kill them
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mybelovedpeepy · 10 months ago
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NEW PEEPY UNLOCKED
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Roman Baby Rattle || Peepy
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joonie-beanie · 7 months ago
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A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]
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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"
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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?”
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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.”
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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.”
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charlotteking23 · 3 months ago
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Pet Names Bro - LN4
Lando Norris x reader
Summary: Lando won't stop bothering you about your pet names for him, so as revenge you texted Lando bro to see his reaction.
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"Hey baby", Lando said walking towards you with his hands in his pockets. "What are you doing?".
You look up from the TV, hearing Lando's voice, "Nothing, just laying down".
You could feel Lando join you in the couch wrapping his arms around your waist.
"Hmm baby I have a question?", Lando said propping his elbow up leaning against the couch. "Why don't you have a nickname for me".
You laughed at Lando question seeing his pouted face. "I just don't like pet names".
"But whyyyyyyy??", Lando complained in a whiny baby voice.
"I don't know It just gives me the ick", You replied not understanding the big deal.
"Everyone on the grid always wonders why you never call me a pet name", Lando said crossing his arms on his chest.
",Fine, I'll call you a pet name", You smiled seeing Lando jump to his feet in excitement.
"Yes, What pet name?", He asked eagerly.
"I don't know", You replied going back to the TV. You could feel Lando eyes watching your every move, making you feel uncomfortable.
"You know its going to take me some time to think of a pet name right", You said looking away from the screen to Lando's eyes.
"Hmm, enough time for me to go to sleep for an hour or two", Lando said with excitement before running away to bed.
"I don't kn-", You were saying before being rudely interrupted by Lando, "Okay goodnight baby", he yelled out already far gone. You only rolled your eyes at his antics.
"He never listens to what I say maybe it's time for Lando to get what he wants... a nickname", You grinned devilishly a plan already forming in your head.
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You arrived in your and Lando's bedroom as demanded, seeing Lando on top of the bed sheets pouting like a baby.
"Are you that mad about the nickname", You laughed going over to the bed.
"It's not funny, I asked for a pet name not a weird nickname", Lando complained, putting his hands on his waist in disapproval.
"Should have been more specific", You said shrugging at Lando flabbergasted face.
"I WAS", Lando shouted out to you as you Laughed at his frustrated face. You wipe off an imagery tear seeing Lando's meme worthy face right now.
"Baby come on pleasee", Lando whined out.
"Lan, I just don't like pet names, they're just not for-", You were about to finish your sentence before AGAIN being rudely interrupted by Lando.
"Babe, say that last part again", He said looking suspicious.
Okay 1. stop interrupting me Lando. And 2. um I don't like pet names", You said looking at Lando meme expressions.
"Before that", Lando said moving his arms around exaggeratedly like an ape.
"Um Lan, I don-", AGAIN for the third time interrupted by Lando and at this point used to it.
"Their, baby that's it", Lando said snapping his fingers like he just solved the world hardest math problem.
"That's great Lando, but what?", You said annoyed Lando taking forever to say his amazing discovery.
"You can call me Lan, for the pet name, It's not cringy and it's sentimental and sweet", Lando said in appreciation of his discovery.
"Hmm, that's not a bad idea, I mean it doesn't give me the ick so that's good news", You said feeling comfortable with the nickname.
"Yess, I did it", Lando said doing a victory dance in celebration.
"This is the only idea you have had that is actually good", You said rolling your eyes at his crazy antics.
But you couldn't help yourself in also joining in Lando celebratory dance.
Lando took your hand delicately twirling you around the room like a princess you were.
Humming quietly to your favorite slow song as you both danced hand in hand slowly with his hands on your waist and yours on his neck.
He twirled you around again before placing his forehead gently on your, taking your hand in his intertwining them together, with his other hand on your waist and yours on Lando's shoulder.
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yumeboshi · 7 months ago
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𝜗𝜚。..❛ #02. XXX!
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𐙚 topic。.hcs of random things that turn on hsr men
.。𝜗𝜚 cw。suggestive content, i wrote this with no brain, MINORS DNI
.。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and blade. I wanna write for my bootyhill but i need to study him more to get a grip of him lol
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#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ rebuking his argument in a fight
。i js know he would go crazy when you do this 。he’d find people who just agree with him as boring. To him it may look even insincere 。but you? countering his smartly crafted arguments with irresistible logic with your pretty brain, glaring at him as you do with those adorable eyes? 。this man would go from being mad to being horny. tbh he would have probably already been horny in the argument 。nobody can be more masochistic than he is
“ARE YOU STUPID?” You glare at your boyfriend who looks nonchalant as he idly examines the coin between his fingers. “Fucking look at me. Do you know what happens when you join forces with them? You’re just risking the IPC and it will eventually lead to your unfortunate befall.”
You continue barreling on furiously with concrete points. Every time you prove him wrong, his eyes dance and he tries his hardest to bite back the grin that plays at his lips as you rant on. You are so perfect, he thinks- he is nonetheless impressed at you, your wondrous little brain. Something snaps inside of him when he sees you focused on derailing his points, your lips moving quickly to spit out syllables. He feels a loud moan caught in his throat.
“I get it, I’m sorry, princess, I won’t do it.” he suddenly surrenders and you eye him suspiciously as he advances, hands sneaking up to your back. “Let’s talk this out in bed, ‘m gonna apologize to you there.” He says softly, giving you lovely kisses along your neck but the way his fingers dig into your skin lets you know he’s not going to wait any longer.
And you will be confused as hell, because although you did win the argument, you feel like you just lost something else, a hidden little game he never taught you the rules to.
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#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ whipped cream on your lips
。hear me out… i have a gut feeling he likes it a little too much 。ik it’s totally random but he will go nuts when he sees you bite down a particularly creamy cake that promptly smears its remains over your mouth- he tries to think of something more dignified, but he just can’t. His poor brain keeps returning to the most vulgar visuals of you. 。he will always point out whatever you had near your mouth when you two eat, because he’s such a clean freak, but anything with cream, specifically white whipped cream, he will be unable to comment on it and fall weirdly silent to he point you are confused why you not hear his scolding to wipe your mouth. 。he’ll just watch you eat dessert with a smile on your face as you savor the taste innocently. Unfortunately his brain is not, and he will start to feel his cock struggle under the fabric. 。”you have cream over your mouth, sweetheart. should i clean it for you?” he’ll sound restrained, like he’s being choked but his expression doesn’t waver. 。and after he found out his new obsession, he will literally only buy you huge whipped cream cakes for dessert.
“THE CAKE HERE IS SO GOOD.” You savor the taste happily and dig into the whipped cream cake and eat without much care. “Where’s it from?”
Sunday is too busy staring at you to register that. The creamy ring around your pink lips. It bothers him in a bad way. It’s making him feel like he is out of breath. His wings flicker wildly like a cooling fan, trying to blow off the heat that suddenly started to build inside his stomach like a raging primal flame that’s trapped by his own conscience.
You tap his shoulder gently and he snaps back to reality and tries to stare at your eyes instead, yes, lovely eyes, he thinks- your words phase in and out as he gulps, darting his eyes back to the cake.
“…the brand? The cake brand?” You ask again, frowning at his silence.
“Ah, yes, sorry, sweetheart. I was thinking of something else for a moment.” He breathlessly apologizes, the words spilling out a little too quickly like an excuse that makes your frown deepen in confusion— he closes his eyes and opens them again so the heat will ebb away. But his plans are obliterated when you take a portion of the cake and eat it, all while looking at him in the eye with curious doe eyes.
That’s when he can’t restrain himself anymore. He suddenly seizes your chin with his gloved hand, making you squeal in surprise when he practically devours your lips, licking up the cream residue around them roughly before shoving it inside your mouth with his tongue. The sweet cream melts when it gets to your mouth, mixing with his saliva that dips down your chin to make messy thick lines.
“It was from a shop at Golden Hour. I hope you like the taste,” he’d say as if he didn’t just feast on your mouth like a starved beast. “Me personally, i think it’s a tad too sweet.”
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#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིLADE ⇢ treating his wounds
。it’s ironic because Blade doesn’t want to be healed at all 。but how could he refuse you you’re frantically at his door with an emergency kit, worry written all over you- you are like a cute puppy that keeps following him around. 。he lets you do it reluctantly at first, grumbling about it inwardly 。but when you lift up his shirt with no hesitation to put gauze to soak in the blood, his muscles tense visibly, when your touch ghosts over his skin like tiny little lilies blooming in their wake. 。what have you done to him? He feels nothing but tension and something he didn’t want to register, something a little too pleasant to him. 。and at some point he will actually look forward to having his would treated by you. He still likes pain, but he likes your touch drifting over his bruised skin like an innocent butterfly way more.
“DOES IT HURT?” You softly pat the ointment around another fresh scar on his broad chest. It pains you to see that most of the scars are near his heart. You sigh like a worried mother. “You worry me.”
“I enjoy it,” he grunts in response, but his brain ran a quick recap. Enjoy what? The pain? Or your smooth touch?
“Stay still,” you say, and he does, as you carefully squeeze in another ointment into an ugly looking scar. His eyes never leave you the whole time, his muscles tense at the pain but otherwise he’s relaxed. His intimidating stare makes you scared a little, considering this mysterious man didn’t speak his mind often.
“I think that’s it,” you say, quickly trying to lower Blade’s shirt back- but the man grabs your wrist mid-action. You jump, confused. His eyes are unreadable but he states, “You’re not done.”
you frown in puzzlement. “I double-checked, im pretty sure I didn’t miss a spot.”
He lifts his shirt up and with his bandaged finger, cuts open the scar you just treated for him, making it ooze another layer of fresh blood around the dried wound. His lips form a rare smirk as he looks at your wide-eyed stare.
“There, you have a new wound to work on.”
He will do that until you are out of ointment, and the next day he will come visit you first this time with another set of fresh scars.
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autolenaphilia · 3 months ago
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God I think I actually prefer explicit fascist transmisogyny in comparison to the disguised dogwhistly liberal transmisogyny.
Like the people who openly call me an autogynephile and other various slurs and tell me to kill myself are at least being honest. They don't bullshit me about hating my very existence and wanting me to die.
It's all the faux-loving forms of transmisogyny that really make me angry. Like it makes my skin crawl in its dishonesty and hypocrisy. And it takes so many forms. Like the transmisogynist christian "hate the sin, not the sinner" approach where they claim to love me and just want me to accept Jesus in my heart. The necessary condition for accepting their version of Jesus however is me detransitioning, and that would kill me.
There is the terfy "people with gender dysphoria are suffering and they need help but we can't endanger women's sex-based rights for them." i've even seen in arguments about legal gender changes the following: "of course trans women deserve to use women's spaces, but if we allow legal gender self-id evil cis men will take advantage of that. So trans women will have to have their rights restricted." Even J.K. Rowling used it in her terf manifesto.
It makes one yearn for the days of the ur-terf book "The Transsexual Empire" which had the "shemale" slur in its subtitle and in which the author Janice Raymond argued trans women rape real women by the fact of their very existence. That kind of brazen transmisogyny at least had some kind of honesty about it.
There is also the transmisogynist callout culture fandom, or as the japanese fittingly call them: the american feelings yakuza. They callout transfems for problematic kinks like at least once a week but deny transmisogyny. "oh we don't believe all transfems are evil predatory sex perverts, it's just that this particular transfem is."
Their evidence for her being sexual predatory is that she ships two fictional siblings. Or in meatspace meetings, things like her having "bad vibes" ("bad vibes" or "gut instinct" are polite words for what more sensible people call "ingrained bias") .
And they suspiciously keep on making callouts for transfem after transfem in a neverending series, trying to ruin her reputation and socially exile her, but of course they are not transmsiogynists.
There is also the sofboi transandrobro type of transmisogyny. They spread the vilest transmisogyny but always falls back on a terfy bioessentialism to claim ontological innocence and perpetual victimhood in all situations. I've literally seen someone say "how can i be a misogynist, i'm literally afab." These people will not say directly "shut up about your oppression, stupid tranny", but say it in coded form. I had one guy traumadump to me about his rape in vivid detail to make the point that (trans)men suffer more and imply that transfems don't suffer from sexual violence.
And that's the crux of the issue. Open hate barely fazes me anymore, unless there is an immediate threat of physical violence. But being condescended to, being emotionally manipulated, being faced with people veiling their hatred of transfems behind a veil of superficially loving rhetoric, that does make me angry. And these people always use my anger against me. "Why are you so angry when these people are being so polite and nice to you?" And that's because the point of these rhetorical approaches is to have plausible deniability for your bigotry and make transfems look crazy when they point it out.
Yet it's the same bigotry as the explicit version, it's just more dishonest about it. Like if had the They Live glasses and looked at the rhetoric, it would just read "exterminate all transfems." All those polite liberals believe the same thing about transfems as the neo-nazis openly calling for us to be hanged, they just lack the virtue of being honest about it.
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girlgenius1111 · 9 months ago
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say it again
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alexia x reader something... slips out accidentally. alexia is more into it than you expected. smut. 18+
cw: mami kink. breeding kink. thigh riding. fingering. strap on use. dom/sub dynamics. praise kink.
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Both you and Alexia had been busy beyond belief in recent weeks. So, when she slid out of bed early on the day  you were both supposed to have off, you latched onto her shirt and refused to let go. 
“Amor, I have to go,” Alexia whispered, although she slid back into the warm cocoon of blankets, and wrapped you back up in her arms. 
“No. Stay.” You grumbled, tightening your arms and wrapping your legs around her too, for good measure. 
“I have to go,” she repeated, kissing your temple and attempting to slide out of your grip. You were about to remind her that neither of you had training that day, when you remembered somewhere in your sleep-hazed brain that Alexia had mentioned coaching a game at the Barça academy that morning. An idea found its way into your brain, and you forced yourself to sit up, allowing Alexia to escape the bed. She looked at you suspiciously as she headed for the bathroom, never having seen you give in so easily. In fact, she still had 10 minutes to lay in bed with you, having set her alarm early because she knew you’d capture her for more cuddles. 
“I’m coming with you.” You declared, smiling happily at your girlfriend when she poked her head out of the bathroom, a slight frown on her face. 
“Bebita, you will be bored, and you will distract me.” Alexia was referring to your rather interesting habit of watching Alexia. There was a certain look you got on your face when Alexia took charge on the pitch that made her crazy. You both kept it under control when you played together, but when one of you was out injured or on the bench, there were few games that didn’t end in rather passionate sex once you arrived home. You both loved to watch each other, and you really loved to watch Alexia be in charge. This was why Alexia absolutely did NOT trust you to accompany her to coach this youth game. 
“No, I won't, I promise. I’ll sit in the stands the whole time. No one will even know I’m there. ” 
Alexia simply raised her eyebrow at you doubtfully, before turning away to head to the closet. You scrambled out of the bed and followed after her, wrapping your arms around her abdomen. She chuckled, but continued to rifle through her sweatshirts, picking out the right Barça one for the day. 
You kissed her shoulder blade, peeking out from the small tank top she was wearing. “Please, Ale. We’ve barely seen each other these past few weeks. I miss you.”  
Alexia melted, turning around and wrapping her arms tight around you. “Okay, bonita. If you promise not to distract me.” 
-----
You’d had every intention not to distract your girlfriend, really you did. Watching her with the kids, though, was much more challenging than you expected. It wasn’t stern Alexia that you got; it was soft Alexia, and it was making something inside of you melt into a puddle. 
Alexia with a whistle slung around her neck, leading the very little kids through some basic drills. Patiently directing them around the pitch. Very softly kicking the ball in their direction. Shouting words of encouragement every second, even when it was just in response to one of the kids falling down and getting up. 
Alexia, standing on the side lines, whistle caught in her mouth, hands on her hips, taking the match just a touch too seriously. 
Alexia in a tight pair of athletic shorts, ass on full display, although it always was, regardless of what she was wearing. 
Alexia rushing onto the pitch when one of her players fell; it was nothing more than a scraped knee, but she carried the sniffling boy off the field and over to his parents, ensuring him that he was being very brave. 
You’d never really gotten the appeal of being pregnant before. And sure, you wanted kids, but you’d never craved them, never desperately wanted to watch your partner turn into a parent with you. Sat in the stands, though, watching Alexia interact with these kids like she was born to do it, you rethought all of that. 
You were staring, and you knew it, eyes firmly trained on your girlfriend as she turned around, bringing her shirt up to wipe at her face. It was a hot day, and she was standing directly in the sun. Her eyes caught yours as she did so, lips pulling up into a very small smirk, before she turned back around, taking a sip of water. You realized your mouth was, embarrassingly, hanging open. The things Alexia could do to  you, without even trying; it wasn’t fair. 
The midfielder could feel your eyes on her for the remainder of the match, and she struggled to stay focused. Her mind, too, was elsewhere, somewhere in the future. Where she was coaching your guys’ kid, with you watching proudly from the sidelines. She wanted it, desperately, and it caught her off guard. The rest of the match passed slowly as both of you were eager to get home. Even though you’d known what you’d been signing up for when you forced Ale to let you come watch, you couldn’t help but feel a little starved for attention. It was ridiculous, but you weren’t one to shy away from the things you wanted. So, when the match ended, and Alexia led the kids to shake hands with the other team, you headed down, impatiently waiting for her. The hug you brought her into was one that belonged at the end of a difficult match, not at the end of a children’s match where most of the goals were accidental. 
“Hola,” she sang softly in your ear, feeling you inconspicuously press a light kiss to her neck. Your lips didn’t leave, though, and Alexia pulled you back, giving you a warning look. 
“You are all red, amor, are you warm?” The question was paired with an adorable look of concern washing over her face; Alexia was always very aware of your less than impressive heat tolerance, and she grabbed the hat you were holding in your hand, placing it on top of your head. 
You were warm, but the redness was due more to Alexia’s close contact with your body, when you were already very aware of her, than the heat, although it wasn’t helping. 
“It’s warm out.” You agreed anyway, before smiling innocently up at her. “Can we go home, baby?” 
Alexia’s lips twitched. “Of course.” 
-----
Alexia had parked in a different parking lot than the rest of the attendees, and by the time you made it over there, you were debating whether you could wait until you arrived home for Alexia to touch you. The way she led you through the parking lot, hand in yours, body hovering protectively in front of you even when there was no one around, was only increasing the deep need for her to do anything to you. 
You decided to take matters into your own hands, noticing that the area around you was devoid of other people. When Alexia opened your door for you, something she insisted upon even though you were completely capable of opening your own door, you smacked her ass, climbing into the car like you hadn’t done anything. Alexia jumped slightly, and her eyes narrowed at you as she shut the door behind you. 
The minute your girlfriend was in the driver's seat, you were leaning over the center console, attaching your lips to her neck. Alexia exhaled sharply, minutely tilting her head to the side. 
“You promised to be good.” She said quietly, and you noted the very slight shake to her voice that told you she was, in fact, feeling the effects of what you were doing to her. You pulled back briefly, nipping at her ear as you did so. 
“Are you not enjoying this?” 
“It does not matter. You promised to be good, and you are breaking that promise.” She warned, gently shoving you back to your seat. You blinked at her, not used to the hard edge her voice had taken on. 
“Ale,”
“No. You will take what I give you at home.” 
You couldn’t pretend the way Alexia was looking at you disapprovingly wasn’t filling you with arousal. As badly as you wanted to be good for her, you also desperately wanted her to make you be good for her. And it seemed this was her plan. 
-----
You trailed into the house behind her, not quite sure what to expect when you were behind closed doors. It wouldn’t be the first time Alexia was rough with you, and you enjoyed it. Something seemed different, though, and there was a tension in the room you couldn’t quite identify. Or, if you could, you weren’t quite willing to admit it yet. 
Alexia backed you up against the wall just inside the front door, her face mere inches from yours, capturing your wrists in her hands and pinning them behind you. She was looking at you, sternly, but also so… softly. Like she would take care of you, even if she made you work for it first. Your stomach was filled with butterflies, in a way it hadn’t been in a while around her. You were beginning to have an idea of what you wanted, you just weren’t quite sure she wanted it too. 
“You have been very bad today, bonita. I do not know what I am going to do with you.” 
“M- Ale, please, take me to bed.” You almost slipped up, and you blinked at your girlfriend, hoping to god that she hadn’t caught it. 
Alexia leaned back and was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching yours.“What was that?” 
“What was what?” You replied, feeling blood rush to your cheeks, avoiding your girlfriend’s gaze at all costs. 
“You almost called me something… it sounded like it started with an M…” Alexia whispered, moving closer to lay kisses on your neck. She knew where your head was at, somehow, as she always did, and she was very on board. It had been something you’d both been thinking about for a while, but neither of you were brave enough to bring it up.
“Alexia,” you whined, struggling to form a single coherent thought. 
“That is not my name, amor. Not right now.” She whispered, her teeth capturing your ear and tugging lightly. You went practically limp in her arms, a low keen escaping your lips. 
“Mami,” you whispered, feeling Alexia’s grin against the skin of your neck. You realized that Alexia liked the title just as much as you did, if not more. 
“There you go, bonita. Mi mala niña, you can listen, hmm?” 
“I can, I am listening. I’m your good girl.” You argued, pressing your forehead to the blonde’s somewhat desperately. 
Alexia tutted quietly. “You were not listening before. I am not sure you are mí buena niña.” 
“I am, mami, I promise,” 
You’d barely finished speaking before Alexia was capturing your lips in a heated kiss, her tongue licking into your mouth, her teeth nipping at your bottom lip, in a manner that was almost overwhelming. She pulled away from you with a wet smack, her smile beyond devious as she took in your blown pupils, the downright submissive look on your face. 
“You want to prove to me you are my good girl?” She murmured, dragging her finger lightly down one side of your face, watching as your eyes fluttered shut, struggling to answer her. 
“Sí, por favor. Let me show you.” 
“Vamos, mí zorrita.” With that, Alexia swept you up into her arms easily, throwing you over her shoulder and heading for the bedroom. 
It wasn’t unusual for Alexia to take full control, as she was doing as she carefully placed on the ground, removing her clothes and directing you to do the same before scooching up the bed to lean against the headboard. What was new, though, was the feeling filling your body, like Alexia didn’t even need to ask you to do anything; you’d just do it if it was what she wanted. Making Alexia feel good would make you feel good. And Alexia knew better than anyone on the face of the earth what you needed. 
So, the minute she gestured for you to move on top of her, you were scrambling forward. Ignoring the slightly condescending smirk Alexia sent your way, and the blush that lit up your cheeks as she did so. 
Alexia settled you on one of her thighs, the smooth skin hitting your core perfectly. You barely contained a whine at the contact, and Alexia smirked up at you. 
“You are wet for mami, no?” 
“Yes, for you, only you,” you stuttered, feeling incredibly turned on considering Alexia had barely touched you at this point. 
Alexia’s voice was low and possessive when she spoke next.“You want to make a mess on my thigh, bebé?” 
“Yes, please,” you begged, her hands still keeping your hips completely still, even as you tried to grind down against her, 
“Yes please what?”
“Fuck, please mami, please,” 
“Buena niña,” she replied softly, the quiet, affection filled tone she was using making you fall against her, wrapping your arms around her neck almost desperately. Your motions were stuttering, no rhythm to them. Your head was too empty, your body too aroused to get you where you needed to be. “You need my help, bebé? You need mami to do it for you?” 
You thought you might be dying. Everytime Alexia said the word, you crumbled just a little bit more. You’d never felt this desperate, this needy before in your entire life. It was almost beyond words. You just needed her. And at the same time, you couldn’t do it yourself, couldn’t get yourself to move the right way. 
“Need you,” you cried out. Luckily, Alexia seemed to take mercy on you, her hands beginning to guide your core to slide against her thigh. She leaned up, pressing her lips to yours in a slow kiss, almost as if she knew you could only take so much at once. It was intoxicating, being pressed up against her, feeling her wet thigh on your dripping cunt, her hands in your hair, her teeth tugging on your lip. 
You whimpered pathetically into her mouth, encouraging her to speed her motions up. 
“Am I making you feel good, princesa? Tell me.” She murmured, pressing her forehead against yours, her face so close you could feel her hot breath on your lips. 
“So good, mami. You feel so good,” you whined, and Alexia almost moaned, too, at how entirely gone you sounded. 
“You are being so good for me, hmm? Do you like it when I take control? When I help you get yourself off on my thigh like a needy slut? Does it make your pussy drip, princesa?” 
“Jesus christ,” you replied, every word she spoke edging you closer and closer. It had been minutes, only minutes, and you were already about to fall apart on top of Alexia. 
“I want you to come on my thigh, sí?” She said lowly, and suddenly, as soon as she said the words, you were teetering on the edge, just one perfect movement away from coming. 
“Mami, fuck, please,” you gritted out, teeth clenching together as Alexia worked you harder and harder against her, until your body tensed for a minute, and you fell silent. 
“Que buena, princesa, que bonita.” The blonde woman whispered, watching your face in awe as you collapsed against her, breathing heavily. Her hands slowed their movements, until you were left rubbing yourself against Alexia’s thigh very slowly, and very jerkily. 
Alexia didn’t wait very long until she was easing you away from her, gripping your face in between her hands. 
“I want to fuck you,” she whispered, watching as your breath stuttered. “Can I fuck you?”
“Yes, mami, I need your cock,” you begged, knowing you said exactly the right thing when Alexia rolled you off her with a smirk, and headed for the bedside drawer. 
Alexia liked to fuck you from behind, more than anything. She loved your ass, loved to watching it as she fucked you, so you rolled onto your stomach, looking questioningly at her when she tapped your side. 
She was kneeled behind you, gazing down with a hungry look on her face. “No, on your back. I want to see your face when I fuck you wide open,” 
You barely withheld a moan, then, as you rolled over and spread your legs. Alexia roughly pushed them to the side, settling in between them, and plunging a finger into you without warning. 
“Shit,” you cried. 
“You are soaked, mi amor. You need mami to fuck you now?” She asked, quickly adding a second finger when it was clear you could take it. 
If anything was hotter than calling Alexia mami, it was hearing her call herself mami. 
“Need you, mami,” you repeated for what felt like the 8th time so far. It was all you could think or articulate. You just needed her. 
When Alexia pressed her cock in, you knew instantly that you wouldn’t be lasting very long. You were already gripping the bed sheets in your hands, and Alexia was already starting an unforgiving pace. 
Alexia fucked you harder than she ever had before, her hands pulling your hips to meet her thrusts, her thighs burning, her breath heaving as she worked herself in and out of you. She was getting worked up herself, watching the way her cock disappeared into your dripping cunt, the way your clit throbbed, the way you looked up at Alexia like she was the only other person in the world. 
You were so far gone, so lost in the pleasure, and you knew Alexia was getting close too by the way she whimpered every few thrusts, a sound very un-Alexia, but one that made you bite your lip all the same. You wanted more from her, needed more. And what did you have to lose, really?
“In me,” you muttered, almost completely incoherent as Alexia moved herself in and out of you. 
“Que?” she asked, not slowing down for even a second. 
“Inside me, please,” you begged, blinking up at her with a look in your eyes that she’d never seen before. 
Alexia was confused, momentarily. She was already inside of you. She watched you grow closer and closer, suddenly hit with your meaning. 
She pressed her hand down on your lower stomach, and your back arched right off the bed. You threw your head back, practically screaming at this point at the sensation. 
“Mami, mami, please,” you cried. 
“You want me to come inside you?” She gasped, absolutely pounding into you now. 
You nodded frantically. “Fill me up, mami, I need it” 
“Mierda,” Alexia groaned, she was close too, suddenly, even though normally the friction of the strap wasn’t enough to get her off. Everything you were doing, though, everything you were asking for was almost overwhelming to her, and it was all she could do to keep pumping in and out of you, moving her free hand to circle your clit. 
Your voice cut off abruptly, and your eyes slammed shut. You reached for your girlfriend, and she reached for you, too, removing her hand from your stomach and lacing her fingers with yours. Her forehead fell to your shoulder as she got louder than you’d really ever heard her.
“Gonna come, princesa, gonna come in your pretty pussy,”  she managed, her words making you shudder underneath her. 
It was the most intense thing you’d ever experienced. You felt yourself tighten around Alexia’s cock deep inside you, felt Alexia thrust one more time stop, frantically grinding herself against you as she, too, fell over the edge. Pleasure washed over the both of you, and you held tight to each other, as if your lives depended on it. 
When it was over, you fell limp into the mattress, every clenched muscle unclenching as Alexia’s full weight dropped on top of you. It was the most comforting sensation, her hand shakily running through your hair, her hot and rapid exhales on your shoulder blade as she came down. You were still throbbing around her, and it was becoming too much, she was too big, too deep. 
“Out, Ale, pull out,” you murmured. Alexia broke out of her mindlessness, sitting up and very delicately removing her cock. You whined deeply when she pulled it out all the way, brow scrunching as you squirmed underneath her. 
If someone had asked you your name or what club you played for at that moment, you weren’t sure you’d be able to respond. You weren’t sure you could form words at all, really, only capable of reaching out for Alexia again, and sighing happily when she laid back down, pulling you to lay flush on top of her. 
“Are you okay, amor?” She asked after a minute, when you still hadn’t spoken, and your eyes were still shut, face crammed into the crook of her neck. 
You only hummed in response, barely registering that she was speaking to you. That was not good enough for your girlfriend, though, and she rolled you both over, until she was hovering over your body again, finger delicately tracing a pattern on your cheek. You opened your eyes, a faint smile on your lips. 
“Bonita, are you okay?” She asked again. 
“So good, Ale. My god. So so good.” You promised her, your smile only growing when Alexia’s face broke into one of relief. 
“Muy buena,” she murmured, ignoring the annoyed whine you let out when she sat up off you. Alexia was undeterred, even when you reached out for her. The blonde left the room, briefly, and you felt your eyes inexplicably filling with tears. 
When Alexia returned with a water bottle and granola bar in hand, she quickly grew frantic when she saw the tears dripping down your face. She dropped the items onto the bed, sitting you up and pulling you into her, your back against her chest. 
“What is it, what is it?” She asked, panicked, wiping away the tears so gently, you almost started to cry again. 
“I don’t know,” you cried, the words somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” 
Again, Alexia deflated, relieved, knowing that she hadn’t upset you. “Okay, that is okay. Drink some water for me please?” 
The adorable grin on her face as she held the uncapped water out to you had you reaching for it without question, taking a few sips before handing it back to her. 
“You too.” You reminded her. Alexia dutifully took a few sips, placed the bottle back on the table, and manhandled you until you were laying down next to her, her body wrapped around yours. 
“Love you, love you, love you, love you,” she murmured in your ear, and you laughed in response, feeling happier than you think you’d ever felt in your whole life. 
“I love you so much.” You whispered back, feeling Alexia smile hugely into your neck. 
“Mi princesa,” she sighed. “How are you so perfect?”
“Because I’m with you,” you replied easily. “And you’re perfect.” 
Alexia disagreed. In fact, she thought the opposite. She wasn’t going to argue with you now though, not after you’d made her deepest desire come true. Instead, she tugged you closer, kissing your neck repeatedly. There’d be time to remind you of your perfection later. Now, though, both of you were drifting closer and closer to sleep, and all Alexia wanted in that moment was to hold you close to her forever. 
You’d happily let her. 
------ 
this has been in my wips for actual weeks im im thrilled to be done with her i hope you like :)
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tiredfox64 · 6 months ago
Note
Hello, I wanted to know if you accept requests and if so… could you make the Lin Kuei brothers who are discovered spying on you while you shower?
Peeping Toms
Prior notes: They could never do that with me they would see me starting arguments with my conditioner.
Pairings: Lin Kuei Bros x Gn reader
Warnings ‼️: Suggestive
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The water ran down your body. It cooled you after that hectic mission you just finished. The water felt wonderful, you could stay in the shower for hours.
Yes, please, please do stay. Enjoy your shower to its fullest. You deserve to relax your muscles and wash the filth off of you. It will do you good and the men next door.
Oh, you don’t know? You don’t know that there will soon be three men that you thought so highly of and saw as honorable waiting to take a peek at you? All of them are dying to get a look at your naked figure as water slips down. Ain’t it crazy that hormones can drive men to do such acts? Well, enjoy your shower.
Enjoy the view, boys!
══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══
It was by accident at first, they swear. If you don’t believe them then it was Tomas’ fault. Seriously it was. He was the one who found the hole in the wall. He didn’t know at first that the hole was even in the room beside yours. But when he went into the room to grab some supplies that Bi-Han needed, he heard running water nearby. Following his ears he found himself getting closer and closer to a hole in the wall. When he peeked in, he was pleasantly surprised to see that the hole allowed him to peek into your shower. And you were showering at that moment! He gasped before backing away from the hole. Oh that can’t do. You were in a vulnerable state and anyone could take a look at you. Maybe Tomas should do something about this.
Or…he could keep this hush hush. No one goes into this room since it’s only meant to store weapons and other supplies. In all honest he didn’t want an opportunity like this to disappear. When else would he have the chance to see you in all your glory?
It felt dirty to do but it can’t be all that bad. It’s not like he told the whole clan about the hole. He won’t do anything nasty while looking at you. He would make a mental note instead.
It began a pattern that Kuai Liang and Bi-Han started to notice. Every time you went to shower after training or a mission, Tomas had somewhere to go. Every. Single. Time. It was highly suspicious to the point that Kuai Liang had to investigate for himself. This day was the day he would find out what Tomas was up to.
At this moment you were scrubbing your hair with your shampoo as Tomas took a peek at you through the hole. His breathing grew heavy as his mind ran wild. The thought of showering with you made his hormones rage. He would hug you from behind, feeling his skin against yours. His lips and hands would travel on your body. His tongue would trace up your neck while his hands would go down between your legs…
“What are you doing?” Kuai Liang asked in pure confusion.
Tomas gasped but quickly covered his mouth as he turned towards Kuai Liang. He didn’t realize his brother had snuck into the room. He was stuck in his mind having his dirty fantasy. Kuai Liang’s eyes drifted to the hole in the wall and heard the sound of running water. Before he could get closer, Tomas caved. He doesn’t like hiding anything from Kuai Liang so he spilled everything. How he found the hole, where the hole leads to, and how he does this every time. This was a surprise since he didn’t expect his brother to act this way. He would have scolded him but…he too was curious.
He's human too. His hormones sometimes drive his decisions and right now they were taking the wheel. He had the same thought process as Tomas: this is an opportunity to see you in all your glory. He felt shame in this but he assumed it was only him and Tomas who knew of this hole. They will keep their lips zipped.
Kuai Liang signaled for his brother to quiet down. He knelt down beside him and slowly leaned his face towards the hole. Oh yup, that’s you all right. Wet and naked with the suds of the shampoo washing off of you. His eyes followed the bubbles as they traveled over your curves. He slowly pulled back and looked at Tomas. He thought Kuai Liang was about to yell at him before he said in a calm voice,
“How long do they shower?”
Tomas stared blankly for a few seconds before responding, “About forty minutes. They do their hair, then their face, then the rest of their body. They make sure to clean everywhere.”
“We will switch every five minutes, understood?” Kuai Liang asked.
Tomas nodded frantically. Kuai Liang immediately went back to peeking at you. He’ll right his wrongs when you finish your shower. He’ll tell Tomas they can’t ever do that again no matter how tempting it is. He will take what he has gained now and cherish it in his mind. He has a good memory. So that image of you letting the water run over your hair with the front of your body right in front of him will stay in his head for many years. That will be useful when he is struggling to fall asleep.
Twenty minutes into your shower and the brothers were eating this up. It was like they were in their own world where they were fantasizing about you. They were so stuck in this world that they had no idea that Bi-Han was looking for them. They were gone for too long. He asked all the clansmen and they all pointed him towards the direction of the supply room. When he found him they were bickering silently about whose turn it was.
“What is going on here?” Bi-Han questioned as he got closer.
They both shushed him which left him stunned. Who do they think they are trying to silence their grandmaster? Bi-Han was already set off. He didn’t allow them to explain the whole situation. His eyes drifted to the hole since they were arguing near it. He already concluded that it was the issue. He pushed Kuai Liang and Tomas out of the way before kneeling and looking for himself. Alright, he moved too fast. He was not prepared to see you naked with soap all over your body. He just found his new favorite thing. Soapy bodies are hot.
“Were you both-“He was about to ask them if they were peeking at you but they covered his mouth. They couldn’t risk you hearing.
Except this time you did hear it. You were already hearing the bickering and whispering on the other side but you passed it off as you hearing things. But hearing Bi-Han’s voice also clearly was the nail in the coffin. You started looking around to figure out where they could have been and why you were hearing them. You did a double take behind you when you saw…a hole! Oh no! You had no idea how you could have missed that. It must have been because you were always tired when you went to shower that you never noticed little things like that. You started connecting the dots in your head and you decided to press your ear against the wall to see if you could hear anything they were saying.
“And you decided not to tell us?” Bi-Han growled.
“If I told you would you have done anything different to what we were doing?” Tomas shot back.
“Do not accuse me of anything, Tomas. You are the guilty one who has involved us now.”
Involved? What does that mean?
It means Bi-Han wouldn’t have done anything differently. He would have peeked at you multiple times as well. He’s more upset that Tomas was keeping this fact from him than being upset with him looking this whole time.
“Do not prevent me from looking.” He ordered them.
“But brother-“
“Obey your grandmaster, Kuai Liang.”
He kept Kuai Liang and Tomas at a distance before looking back. You already moved away from the wall and tried to act natural. This shower cannot go on for much longer. You washed the soap off your body quickly. Your hands ran over your body which excited Bi-Han. Your hands went over every curve, bringing his attention to all of them. But when it was just getting good you turned the water off. You quickly grabbed your towel and wrapped it around yourself before quickly getting out of the bathroom. Bi-Han groaned in frustration. He barely had time to enjoy you.
When they decided to leave the door suddenly swung open. You stood there, towel wrapped around you and your body still dripping with water. You crossed your arms and looked at them for an explanation. Kuai Liang was about to give you one but Bi-Han was quick to move the blame onto Tomas. Tomas was not staying for what was to come so he threw down a smoke bomb and teleported away. That left you with two guilty suspects. They were stumped. There was no lie that could get them out of this one.
“If you so badly wanted to watch me shower you could have asked. Weirdos.” You said before walking back to your room.
Huh? Did they hear that right? The brothers looked at each other to confirm if what you said was actually spoken. Suddenly Tomas pops out from behind some of the weapons with a look of sadness.
“How were we supposed to know we could ask?”
They stared at him blankly. They couldn’t even get upset with him for bailing on them. Were you actually serious? Well, if you were, Bi-Han will be the first to ask. He deserves it. He is your grandmaster.
After notes: I need to stop biting my fingers because it physically hurt to type this. Can't have anything in this damn state. Adiós!
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on-leatheredwings · 6 months ago
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Secret Admirer
Yandere! Dick Grayson / Yandere! Green Lantern! Gender Neutral Reader
> romantic > tw/cw: yandere behaviors. Kissing. Heavy petting. > rated M > summary: You should stop playing with fire. Because when you do, you make him want to be crazy. Crazier. And Dick’s worked really, really hard to wrap those habits up. > a/n: wow nothing truly despicable in this one i’m so vanilla now <3 the reader is male to me but feel free to imagine what you want. I rlly like writing pre-yandere + pre-relationship stuff, it’s so fun . may write more for actual smut possibilities > word count: 1472
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Newly-acquired powers or not, you are really poking the bear here. 
Dick has known you've been following him since yesterday. He allowed it because who was he if not a performer? He thrived on attention, and especially yours. But today, you had gotten too close to a fight. Sure, you had stayed an appropriate distance away, but the fact it had happened at all was worrying. It made him distracted. Distracted enough that he wasn’t pulling his punches on criminals like usual. 
“Now that it’s getting quite late–” he begins, to which you audibly gasp. An adorable sound. “–how about you finally come out and let me help you?”
He turns around to a swath of darkness that paints the rooftop’s entry door in black shadow.
Behind the corner, you curse. Damn it, he caught you. … Well, you could’ve told yourself this would happen. Dick, the fine friend he was, surely said it would. No one really ‘sneaks up’ on one of the Bats. And definitely not Nightwing, the most tenured of them all aside Batman himself.
You got caught, and lord knows what Nightwing will do to you. You bite your lips, mind running wild. Who knows what Nightwing will do to you, indeed? You feel a pang of arousal at the thought. 
You step out of the shadows, trying to act natural. Nightwing’s eyes lock onto your humble form, and you find yourself warming over every inch of your body. You want him bad.
His body stiffens, for reasons you can’t discern. It doesn’t seem like hostility… you think?
You adjust your domino mask, cursing silently that the adhesive is finally starting to give after a long night of following him around. Stealth isn’t really a natural gift for a Green Lantern, either. Turning down your glow while using your powers to maintain soundless stalking was hard. Harder than expected. 
“What are you doing here?”
You smile, hoping your giddy expression is hidden by the hoodie you’ve chosen to wear on your escapade. 
It certainly is not, which makes Dick pleased.
Now that you've made contact with him, his first thought is that he ought to tell Batman about this. And the rest of the team, while he’s at it. Dick Grayson knows that Nightwing is your 'celebrity' crush, and that you're enamored with the rest of the Bat Family. What if you confronted them someday as well?
On the Batcomputer is a file on John Stewart, complete a footnote that is you. Said footnote has graduated to its own page, now that you have your own hero exploits to document. They'd be less welcoming and more wary of a hero on their turf. He has to protect you.
“I… I…” you croak, tongue heavy with anxiety. You can’t help but be nervous. 
“Sometime tonight?” he teases. 
“You’re beautiful,” you blurt.
He is taken aback, before he recollects his wits. 
“I really like you,” you say again, stepping forward. He lifts his hand in warning. Stay back. You get chills, but don’t stop treading forward. You can tell his eyes are narrowed beneath his mask.
When he’s finally in arms’ reach, you are pushed against the wall. And not roughly at all, you notice. You smile with delight, your hands immediately landing on his shoulders. Nightwing’s glare doesn’t feel hostile at all. Suspicious, maybe. But not hostile.
“... What do you mean by, you “really” like me?” You suspected that he probably wouldn’t believe you.
“Well,” you fluster, “I mean that I really like you.” Dick’s heart jolts. “And I want you.” It nearly flatlines.
Oh, don’t say that, don’t say that, Dick thinks, despite the elation that begins to tighten his throat. You? Want him? If he had known all he needed to do to grab your attention was put on the suit, he would’ve done that ages ago. He felt nearly invisible to you during the day, all his flirtation falling on deaf ears and blind eyes.
At Nightwing’s silence, you lick your lips. An action that makes his eyes dilate behind his mask. 
“I-I’m serious!”
Nightwing leans in closer, as if inspecting the truth in your expression, raking over every atom. 
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he breathes.
“It’s not a game at all to me,” you say, feeling lightheaded from the small distance between you two. This doesn't feel real.
To love and be loved is all you’ve ever wanted. You’d think that would give you the violet ring of Love. Instead, the ring that had appeared in your hand one fateful night was acid green, sparkling and mesmerizing. Apparently, instead of embodying love, you simply were driven enough to seek it at any costs. Driven enough to never be alone ever again.
You have the ability to overcome great fear. Welcome to the Green Lantern Corps, it said. You had taken it without hesitation.
“Kiss me,” you say, hands rising to cup his jaw. As if he’s not already leaning in.
Your lips meet in an unabashed frenzy. You’re nearly blown away by the pure amount of feeling in his kiss – that's quite a lot of emotion for a stranger. Not that you aren’t equally impassioned. You feel so raw and naked, kissing him. You hope he can't feel all your insanity, your obsession, your infatuation.
However, Dick certainly does, so much that he moans openly, the sound making both your lips buzz.
You make him want to be crazy. Crazier. And he’s worked really, really hard to wrap those habits up. 
You shudder, feeling the pressure of his cup press in between your thighs. God, you wished you could feel the real thing. Your hand slips in between you two, tracing the lines of his abs. Dick shivers. He peels off your domino mask, but you don’t even flinch. You don’t care if he knows who you are. You want him to know everything. Inside and out.
Your eyes flutter open as you gyrate against his hips, sinful and frustrating. You peer up at him, cheeks blazing. You want him.
He looks into your eyes, and it's as if he can read your mind. He wants to swallow you whole. He wants to map every inch of your body. His cock is painfully straining against his suit. You are not a want, but a need.
But Dick is trying to be good, he really is. The night’s not over. He’s still on patrol, technically. You may want Nightwing, but do you want Dick Grayson? If he fucked you on this rooftop, throwing restraint into the wind, would that be taking advantage of you? Do you just hero worship him? All the questions fly through his mind at rapid speed, and he wants them to quiet, before the Angry Orphan inside him decides to just stop caring completely. 
But he… he’s strong. We don't have to be, his mind interjects, screaming at him. But he quiets it. He whimpers at the tightness against his groin, a sound that makes you look at him curiously. You are completely blissfully ignorant to his inner strife. Completely innocent.
Dick narrows his eyes, channeling his best Batman impression.
“You should go home.”
You balk almost comically. “W-wait.” Nightwing retreats, but not before you can grab his wrist. “At least– at least, can we go on a date? Or even hang out? Or–” His thumb traces the curve of your lips, silencing you with a shiver.  
“Go home.” Firmly said, yet gentle.
You frown, though it’s more like a pout. Man, you’re cute, he thinks. “When can I see you again?”
Dick certainly isn’t strong enough to be responsible and say “You can’t.” 
So Nightwing just stares at you, looking… hesitant. The pieces click in your mind. Ah, so he liked it. Your lips curl, like a cat with cream. You take that as a victory.
“... I-I’ll come back tomorrow night,” you state boldly, stealing a chaste kiss before he could argue. Dick has to basically pull himself away, despite his desire to keep your bodies flush and perfectly fitted against one another.
You slip your ring onto your finger, and your entire body glows, rampant with Lantern light. You begin to float.
“Tomorrow!” you blurt, already wanting him again. You zip away, flying home. All the while, you slap at your warm cheeks, trying to see if this is a dream, laughing with glee, mind going haywire with heated fantasies. You kissed Nightwing. You basically groped him. And he didn’t stop you. Oh god, wait until you tell Dick. 
The confrontation went better than expected. At worst, you figured Nightwing would shoo you away, reject you. Despite the abrupt ending, he at least seemed… interested? You try not to dwell on it too much. It doesn’t matter.
You’re a Green Lantern. You’re powerful. Willful. He will be yours, someday.
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