#or just being kind of being mean for no reason

[xenodile]

"Shuro loves Falin for the same reasons he hates Laios" Completely and utterly wrong, could not be further off base.

I get the impression a lot of people watching Dungeon Meshi as it airs, or are a bit removed from its original manga run, have forgotten that Laios and Falin being monster freaks wasn't actually apparent until the events of the story. The only person that knew Falin loved monsters as much as Laios was Marcille because they were best friends at school.

Once Laios and Falin were in an adventuring party together, they both had public facing personas because they had both learned through their separate upbringings that being super interested in monsters and dungeons wasn't normal. Laios is the blunt but well meaning, outspoken and opinionated guy we all know, but Falin was way more withdrawn and soft-spoken, non-confrontational, easy to get along with. Everyone that interacted with Falin would say she's a sweet, gentle girl that everyone likes. Because she was, frankly, kind of a doormat.

The whole thing with Toshiro's infatuation with Falin is he doesn't actually know her. She is outwardly very polite and reserved, and that appeals to Toshiro because it meshes with his cultural sensibilities and how he was taught people are supposed to behave. Then he sees her marveling at a caterpillar in a private moment and decides on the spot that she's the ideal woman and proposes without actually talking to or getting to know her.

And his lack of understanding of Falin as a person is brought to the forefront in every action he takes after she gets eaten. He leaves the party and makes no attempt to contact the two people that Falin loves the most. Whether it's a matter of him just not knowing how much Falin cares about her brother and Marcille, or actively avoiding Laios to rescue Falin himself, he's demonstrating that he doesn't actually know what's important to her or understand how she feels.

Then when he meets Laios's party on the lower floors and they go over what happened, it's made even more blatant that Toshiro's affection is shallow and half-baked. He came into the dungeon a week too late and neglected his health the whole way down, so he was in no state to actually try and save Falin when he got there. When Laios talks about eating monsters, something Falin was thrilled about, Toshiro is disgusted. He threatens to kill Laios and turn Marcille in, which would never fly with Falin. His anger at the use of black magic is entirely based in his selfish idea of Falin being tainted and blaming Laios and Marcille for "ruining" his attempt to rescue her, as Kabru points out that Toshiro would have done the exact same thing in their shoes and that he's being a hypocrite. To say nothing of how he'd rather kill Falin after she's been transformed and "put her to rest" rather than put any effort into saving her, because that would require further involvement from Laios and Marcille and methods that Toshiro doesn't approve of.

And there's the fight he has with Laios, and Toshiro's subsequent confession that he had hoped to just take Falin home with him. He at no point gives consideration to what Falin feels or what she might want, only what he has decided about her based on the most surface level observation. Just like how his problem with Laios arises from his refusal to just talk to him about his boundaries, he has no actual connection with the woman he claims to love because he just wouldn't actually talk to her.

Like it's not a coincidence that every time his attraction to Falin is brought up, another character goes "yeah he's being weird about it".

#Dungeon Meshi #Toshiro isn't a bad person. He has communication issues and makes very bad decisions based on his own refusal to communicate.

[egophiliac]

Hi there! I really love your comics and how expressive they are. How do you go about making the characters in your comic so expressive?

thank you! 💚💜💚 I am REALLY bad at explaining things, so my apologies if this doesn't make a lot of sense, but maybe there's something helpful in here somewhere. :')

1. warm up! drawing is a physical activity, after all! so if I'm planning on sitting down and drawing for a while, I usually start off by taking a couple of minutes to doodle a bunch of circles and lines and random shapes, just to get my drawing arm goin' again and get back into the physical groove. just stuff like this:

and just do that for however long you feel like! you can kind of feel when your arm starts to loosen up and your strokes get more confident. it makes it a lot easier to get those swoopy big lines and gestures!

2. play around with how you use your lines! paying attention to the shapes that they're making will change a lot about how much force and life your drawing feels like it has. (no way is better than another, it just depends on what effect you're going for and how it looks as part of the larger whole.)

and you can also use lines against each other to get different vibes:

it's not really a matter of "you need to make sure all your lines are always doing this all the time", it's more like...being aware of it, and getting that into the general thrust of a pose, if that makes sense? like a lot of smaller lines of action, beyond the big one that goes through the spine.

(just gonna use my own art as examples, apologies)

if you have a good foundation of tension, then all of the little bumps and contours of a character's details won't get in the way of it, and it'll still come through.

and don't forget about negative space either! the spaces between things have their own interesting shapes too!

I don't mean this to come off as, like, all these extra things that you need to be constantly thinking about and stressing over. more like...just try different stuff and then see how it works and how it changes the feeling! if you find a good shape, see if you can exaggerate it and make it more interesting, and how that affects things! angles and shapes are a LOT of fun to experiment and mess around with, especially when you're going more cartoony. :D

3. acting!

just...spending a little time to think about what the characters are actually doing! (aka the "figuring out what everyone is doing with their hands" bit.) this is more a personal preference, but especially in multi-panel comics, I like to have them be in the middle of doing stuff. not just big actions, but smaller things -- like even just how they're sitting or standing -- so that it feels like we're looking in on the middle of a scene, instead of a couple of characters just standing around neutrally and staring straight ahead while talking at each other.

this probably sounds really obvious, but it is one of the most fun parts for me! I love trying to find some little action or something that they can be involved in, especially if it's relevant to their character or adds an extra joke. (for some reason this usually involves me being mean to Sebek) (I'm sorry)

it doesn't need to be everyone Always! Doing! Something! all the time, especially if starts becoming distracting (sometimes they do actually need to just be standing around neutrally and staring straight ahead, especially if there's a bigger action going on that you want the audience to focus on instead). but even just figuring out some kind of non-neutral pose for them to be in can add a lot and make it feel less generic!

3. thumbnailing!

this is, again, very much a personal preference; unfortunately, every artist really is different, and we all have different processes that work better for us. so I can only speak to my personal experience! but I find what helps is to start REALLY rough -- not so much as in messy, as in not trying to start right into actually drawing everything out. like, literally just starting with stick figures and :O faces.

it probably doesn't sound relevant when talking about Drawing Expressively, but I find it's really, really helpful to have already figured out what everyone should be doing (acting!) and what the overall general layout and flow of things should be, before getting into the actual meat of drawing the characters. like having a sketch for the sketch!

(good compositional flow is something I struggle with, and text layout especially, so this stage also helps a LOT with making sure things are fitting where I want them and staying consistent/not breaking screen direction/etc.)

then after that, I can go ahead and focus on getting those Shapes and Lines and Angles and all that, without having to think too much about the layout or where things should go!

(of course, the downside of that is that my thumbnails are usually way better than my actual drawings, alas alas.)

4. this is more philosophical, but...give yourself some slack. the stress of Making Things Look Good is, ironically, often the biggest problem. (see: thumbnails looking better than the actual drawings.) so...let yourself draw shittier and without regards to accuracy. make things just for yourself without thinking about posting or showing them to anyone else. draw stupid faces and wrong proportions because they feel better that way. focus on what's fun and not on getting a perfect end result. "draw expressively, not well", as they say -- you can always tighten up things like proportions and details later, if you really want to.

that's all WAY easier said than done -- god knows I haven't really managed it -- but even just aiming for that attitude really, REALLY helps. if your lines are confident, they'll look a lot more alive and expressive than lines that are exactly technically precise but have no rhythm in them. (this is why tracing photographs tends to look so weirdly stiff and unrealistic, by the way -- even if you're drawing realistically, you usually need to exaggerate and stylize a little bit so it doesn't look lifeless.) it's a balance between caring about what you draw, but also being willing to let things go a little bit.

↑ I hope some of this helps! I don't know if any of this was actually what you had in mind, let alone much of it actually made sense outside of my head. :') but hopefully you (or other people) will be able to get something out of it!

#art #twisted wonderland #(not really related but since that's what the examples are) #i'm so sorry most of my art advice boils down to 'SHAPES ARE FUN' #(they are though)

[wren-kitchens]

so shiver, but shiver with a friend

1034 words

the boat is creaking. that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running. but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so. 

this fic exists for two reasons, which are stiff stiffyck's love for qpr elven duo (gem and scar) and also me overthinking scar's wheelchair worldbuilding in the hermitcraft world

this could be a lot better but alas I have been consumed by depression writers block, so honestly i'm just proud this ended up as a finished fic

btw this is one of my first times writing wheelchairs, and whilst it is fantasy so things are gonna be a little different, I would appreciate if someone could tell me if I did something wrong/insensitively!

the boat is creaking.

that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running.

but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so.

anyway, all of this to say that gem is pretty sure someone is on her boat at the middle of the night for what she deeply hopes are not nefarious reasons. although, she cannot think of any reason someone would be sneaking onto her boat at two in the morning—nefarious or otherwise. maybe it's grian trying to lag some things out of her chests? but why on earth he wouldn't do that in the day when she wasn't on board, gem has no clue.

there's a new noise now, one that suggests against the idea of nefarious deeds, but only confuses gem more: a kind of squeaking, like a rubber ring being taken off, or an air mattress being slept on. okay, that doesn’t rule anything out at all, and only serves to make everything far more complicated. who is bringing a rubber something onto her boat at 2am? what is happening here?

overtaken by an amounting curiosity to whatever the hell is actually going on, gem climbs out of bed and pads softly along the floorboards in her slippers to her door. she regrets not installing one of those peepholes, because now she actually has to engage with the something that's happening outside in order to investigate. gem is sure there isn’t anything especially dangerous that could be going on, but she pulls out her sword preemptively as she opens the door slowly to find-

to find..

well, she's not sure what she's found.

"gem!" says a cheery scar, who is. on her boat? how is he on her boat- he uses a wheelchair, and the boat is in the middle of the river.

except- no, hang on, his wheelchair seems to be completely lacking wheels, which gem would argue is the main point of a wheelchair. where the wheels should otherwise be, there are floatation devices—seemingly rubber, which explains the noises gem was hearing earlier—in patented hotguy colours, so she assumes that's intentional. okay, that's- that sure is something.

"you-" gem scrambles for any words to express how bizarre this situation is and fails miserably. "you’re on my boat." is all she manages. void, it is way too late (early?) to be trying to figure this out.

"I am on your boat!" scar says, looking rather proud of himself. it's kind of sweet, to be fair—even as it only adds to the crazy situation. "y’know, I didn't think i’d actually manage it. last time I tried, I sunk."

gem blinks, giving up on making sense of the situation now and letting herself just go with the bizarre. "yeah, I can imagine why scar." she gestures at the rubber wheels (they look a bit like wheels, anyway). "how did you get those?"

"cub helped me!" scar smiles, as if this was a normal conversation to be having. does he even realise how strange this situation is, or is this just normal for him now? "see- you know how my chair has an elytra mode?"

"uh huh."

"well, now it has a swimming mode!" scar says, and he clicks a button on the underside of the seat. within an instant, the floatation devices deflate, replaced swiftly by the regular wheels. "ta da!"

"that- I mean, that's very cool." gem says, and she means it, despite how unenthusiastic she knows she must sound. in her defence, it is the middle of the night. "I just- why are you here?"

something changes in scar's expression immediately, and gem panics a little until scar says meekly, "it- okay, well. now it sounds silly."

gem snorts. "because showing off your inflatable wheelchair at two in the morning is normal?" she tilts her head, and her voice is fond when she says, "you know you can tell me anything, right?"

a smile tugs at the corners of scar's lips, and gem feels something warm in her chest to see it. "I know, I know." he hesitates for a second, before giving a huff of exasperation. "I wanted a hug." scar admits, glancing at the floor.

"wh- scar." gem finds herself beginning to smile. "do you really think I would ever turn down a hug from you?"

scars grin is almost shy as he opens his arms, and gem practically falls into them, burying her face in his jacket. man, she has missed hugs from scar; she loves the way they fit together so well, like pieces of a puzzle, perfectly matched to one another. there are very few places where gem feels entirely at home—she's been pretty much everywhere, so she knows what home feels like—and scar is closer to home than any place has ever felt to her.

before she knows it, scar has scooted forward just enough to unbalance her, and she lands on top of him. gem scoffs playfully as scar laughs to himself, holding her closer.

"I can't hug you properly if you’re stood up, y’know." scar mumbles into her hair.

gem rolls her eyes, fond as anything. "well, i’m not complaining." she's quiet for a moment, letting herself appreciate the moment—breathing it all in. "I love you." gem murmurs.

scar squeezes her, and gem can almost hear his smile when he says, "I love you too."

#hermitfic #wren writes #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #geminitay #hermitcraft #please don't tag as ship <3 #elven duo #hermitblr #I can’t figure out any more tags tell me if I need something else GKDHS

[cloudwisp]

Wriothesley falling in love means you being the reason for his smile when he sees you for the first time that day. Even if it’s just the tiniest quirk at the corners of his mouth, it’s most definitely there and he’s usually seen in a better mood for the rest of the day. The Head Nurse notices this and after she made a passing comment, he can’t help but catch himself doing it the moment you come into his view and dammit was Sigewinne right about you—you do make him happy, more so than you could ever imagine.

Wriothesley falling in love means he can believe these things you tell him—about himself. You’re by no means naive but you always strive to see the good in people and understand their circumstances. Even when he questions what kind of man he is, you tell him he’s a nice person who looks after everyone beneath his care. Even if he’s got blood on his hands and has his regrets, you tell him it wasn’t really fair that he was pushed into that position in the first place. He still has some reservations about his past, but he appreciates being seen in a different light.

Wriothesley falling in love means he’s always a bit romantic with you. When you mention you miss feeling the sun’s warmth on your face after having to spend most of your time at the Fortress of Meropide to be with him, he plans a small outing in a scenic location to watch the sunrise/sunset together. (And he makes a mental note to take you on dates in the overworld more). When you pretend you’re getting overheated by snuggling too close to him and move away slightly, he pulls you back with purpose and a teasing smirk on his handsome features. “It’ll be cold outside of my embrace. You want to stay here… forever, right?”

Wriothesley falling in love means he’s allowed to be incredibly sappy and a touch playful and say all these sweet things because if there’s one thing he loves most about you—it’s the way you bring out the softness in him and you make it so easy for him to just be himself with you. Even someone like him who hasn’t been dealt the easiest hand in life is deserving of a tender and healing kind of love whether he believes it or not.

#ᨳ ₊˚ 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐩.𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 #wriothesley #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines

[joonie-beanie]

A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”

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

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

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

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

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

You cock an eyebrow at him.

“What kind of change?”

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

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

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

…

Huh?

“Here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...did he consent to this?”

Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.

“Not yet, but he will.”

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

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

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

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

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

Wriothesley sighs.

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

You grin, holding your head high.

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

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

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

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

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

Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.

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

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

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

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

“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alright then, time to break out the big guns.

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

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

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

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

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

Both men look your way. You smile.

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

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

“Good! Glad that’s settled.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, what can I assist you with?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.

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

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

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

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

“I'll have to keep that in mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You may go home for the day.”

You blink, looking around for the time.

“...will you continue working?”

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

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

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

“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”

“9am will be fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

And really, who would pass up that offer?

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.

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

“Nonetheless, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

And he seems to be…for the most part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it possible that you’re sick?”

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

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

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

A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.

…huh.

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

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

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

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

You jump to your feet.

“Neuvillette—?!”

“Leave.”

There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.

“What—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A scent that he wants to chase after.

He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you not to return here.”

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

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

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

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

“I sent you away for a reason.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.

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

“Me,” he responds.

His words send electricity up your spine.

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

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

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

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

A rut.

The word hits you like a train.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Run.

Run.

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

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

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

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

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

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

In fact, it will probably be painful.

Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.

You’re scared, but—

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you leave, you—”

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

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

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

Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.

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

The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.

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

“This is wrong of me…”

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

A quiet laugh leaves you.

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

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

And, of course, it does.

He takes a deep breath—

“Thank you—”

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

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

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

He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pries your legs apart. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first taste of his meal.

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

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

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

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

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

You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.

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

You've never felt anything akin to this before.

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

His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours. 

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

Then, his tongue starts to move.

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

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

He can't stop. 

He bullies your g-spot incessantly.

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

You can't control yourself.

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

“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.

“Neuvillette, you're—”

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

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

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

Finally, you're bare beneath him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You trust that he won't hurt you.

“Ah—!” 

He slips a second finger inside of you.

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

It's all so much. 

“Neuvillette—”

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

Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.

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

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

Instantly, you lose it.

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

“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”

“Cum.” 

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

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

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

Then, he finally relents.

Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you. 

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

You’re ready.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…oh.

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

Speaking of—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drunk with desire, he actually growls.

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.

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

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

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

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

You’ve never felt so full.

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

…then, he begins to move his hips.

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

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

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

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

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

Ah…you’re going insane.

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

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

“Ahh…”

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

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

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

And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

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

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

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

He’s getting close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did so well,” he tells you. 

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

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

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

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

“However…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pushing the door open, he heads inside.

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

The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.

“Come in.”

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The office sits in silence for a moment. 

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

Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.

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

Both men smile.

“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”

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

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

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

Wriothesley hums.

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

Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

Understanding passes between them.

“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

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

Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.

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

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

“I shall hope for the same.”

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

[stayinlimbo]

We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note:  i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it? 

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee. 

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you. 

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers. 

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls. 

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.” 

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them. 

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth. 

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row? 

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face. 

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh. 

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief. 

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep. 

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too. 

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

#lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know #lee minho #skz x reader #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #lee minho imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids lee minho #stray kids lee know #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #skz #kpop imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #lee minho x y/n #lee minho x you #stray kids x you #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #stayinlimbo

[plutoispurplw]

Guilty As Sin?

Summary: You are new at the bau and you finally meet Spencer, you fall for him but he started to avoid you.

Couple: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.2K

Warnings: Smut, little angst, legal age gap of ten years (35 & 27), happy ending.

A/N: Hi everyone, guess who is back! This is inspired by Guilty as Sin by my favorite blonde. Stream The Tortured Poets Department.

When you began to work at the BAU, Penelope had told you that one of the members of the team was in prison, she said that he was innocent. 

Months later, when he was out of jail you finally met him, you were mesmerized by him, he looked like something out of your wildest dreams. 

You notice the dark circles under his eyes and how he looks tired but still, you are under a spell by him. 

"Hello, nice to meet you, Dr.Reid, my name is Y/N" You were acting like looking at his eyes was nothing while you felt how your heart was beating like crazy. 

If he noticed it he didn't make an effort to say something about it. "Nice to meet you too and you don't have to call me doctor" He gave you an awkward smile, that was instantly engraved in your brain. 

Even if you were attracted to him, that didn't mean that the age gap between you two was uncomfortable, it was weird to try to have a conversation with him, there wasn't any type of conversation themes to have. 

But as time went by, the age gap seemed to be less uncomfortable, you began to open up a little more to him and vice versa, the conversations you both started to have were nice, and you liked to listen to his ramblings. 

After some more time, you two started to go to a café in your free time to talk, when you talked about something that you liked he gave you his attention, and he didn't make you feel weird. 

Then it started the glances, the quick brushes against each other. The tension was growing like crazy, but only happened when you two were alone. 

Something magnetic was pulling you towards him, maybe was destiny or chemistry but it didn't matter, because you couldn't escape from that feeling. 

When you touched yourself, you would fantasize about him, but how could you be guilty if he hadn't touched you yet? 

Only in your mind, his name was written on your inner upper thigh. 

And finally, the tension just broke one night. 

After solving a case and being back home, the team went to a bar to relax after those stressful days. You were tired and you asked Spencer to take you home, and he accepted. 

When you were at the entrance of the apartment and were about to say goodbye, you felt how his gaze was fixed on your lips, you couldn't stop looking at him like a lovesick teenager at that moment. 

Then it snapped, he stole you a kiss, and you reciprocated it, you felt the passion and desperation that he put on the kiss, your whole body burning because of the need for his touch. 

The kiss didn't last too long because then he pulled away, and regret was written on his face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." Before you could say something he was gone, you just lay on the bed until you fell asleep with thoughts running through your mind. 

After that, he started to avoid you if it wasn't important like you were some kind of plague that could kill him. 

You started to think if you did something wrong but nothing came to your mind. 

You felt hurt and after a time you didn't try to make amends for something that you were sure you didn't break anymore, it was better if you were alone or that was what you tried to tell yourself. 

After some time, in a case. The team was staying in a hotel like always, you were in your room when you noticed that the air-conditioning wasn't working, you went to the lobby to ask for another room but they told you that there weren't any more rooms available 

It was summer and you knew that wouldn’t sleep with the heat. 

You decided to ask Spencer to share because his room was the closest one to you, that was what you tried to think, but deep inside you knew that the true reason was to just be close to him. 

You knocked on the door, and moments later she opened it, he was sleeping in sweatpants and a shirt. His went wide when he saw that it was you.

"Hi, Y/N" His voice sounded deep like have been sleeping before you knocked. The door. He looks at you in the eyes with shame and guilt. "What do you need?" 

"Sorry for waking you up but the air-conditioning doesn't work and there aren't more rooms available so I was wondering if you let me sleep here? Tomorrow I'm gonna ask for another room." 

"Okay, don't worry, I leave you the bed and I sleep on the floor so you can be comfortable." He sounded sincere and you felt how you were falling again for him. 

"We can share the bed, we just put a pillow between us, what do you think?" You look at him with puppy eyes so he can sleep on the bed and don't wake up in the morning with pain in the back.

He just gave you a nod and let you enter, you two started to accommodate the bed again so the two could be comfortable, and while doing that you started to speak again. "What happened that ni-" 

He interrupted you and didn't let you talk. "Let's just forget about that please, I'm tired and you're tired." His voice sounds annoyed by your words. 

You looked from the bed to his eyes. "Stop trying to avoid the theme like it's some kind of explosive, please let's just talk." Your voice sounded like you were begging and maybe you were but you just needed to know why he avoided you like the plague. 

At that moment something snapped inside of him. "I don't want to fucking talk about that Y/N" His voice was louder and now he sound angry at you. 

In other circumstances, you would stay quiet but you were tired from all of this, you didn't want to see him every morning in the office knowing that he didn't want to have any interaction with you like before that night. 

Now you were the one yelling, all the pent-up anger spilled on your words. "Well I need to know why you have been avoiding me like I'm some kind of fucking bad drug for you, I prefer to spend all night awake uncomfortable than being here." You immediately felt guilty of saying something like that to him knowing his past but you didn't say anything and started to walk towards the door. 

Then to your surprise, he stopped you in your tracks grabbed you by the wrist, pulled you towards him, and started to speak. "You know why I been avoiding you? Because if I let you get more closer I won't be able to stop." 

His eyes fixed on yours like they were some kind of gems. "I want to make you mine, I want to consume all of you, you're a drug for me that I know if I taste it's gonna be the death of me." 

He stepped back and stopped grabbing your wrist. "But it wouldn’t be fair, I have more experience than you, your frontal lobe got fully developed two years ago and mine almost a decade ago." 

Before he continued talking you were the one interrupting him this time, you got closer to him. "I want you to be the one to ruin me, I have been thinking of you since I met you, it feels like I'm under a spell that makes me need you, I need to wake every morning next to you." 

In seconds you were kissing each other like it was your last moment on earth, the kiss was filled with desperation and pent-up passion from months accumulated. 

His hands were everywhere making you moan against his neck while you kissed him. 

He pulled away from you and sat on the edge of the bed, his hands pulled towards him making you fall on his lap. 

Your lips against his jaw and neck, his hands started to descend towards your hips carefully and slowly to not startle you like you were some kind of animal. 

Then he started to talk again and you didn't have more patience left. "Are you sure you want this? We could stop if you-" You stopped him before he continued talking. 

"I wanna do it, Spencer, I'm sure" He stopped in his tracks and then his lips were against yours again in a passionate and intense kiss. 

He continued to descend his hands until they were on the waistband of your shorts, he looked you in the eyes, and you just gave a little nod to let him know that was okay to do it. 

He started to pull it down in a slow motion to make you more desperate,  now he could see your lacy underwear. You didn't know if it was worse for him than for you to wait. 

You stood up and took the shorts off completely, then you took your T-shirt off too. His eyes laser-focused on your chest when he realized that you weren't wearing a bra or anything. 

You blushed at his indiscreet gaze and tried to cover yourself but he pulled you towards him again, you fell on his lap again, and his hands were quick to move from your hips towards your breasts. 

He just started to caress them playing with your nipples. "You look so beautiful like this." His kisses started from your neck to your chest, his mouth was on one while the other was being massaged by his other hand. 

After minutes like this, he switched giving attention to your neglected breast. You were just a mess already, letting out little moans and sighs. 

You felt how his hands were on your hips again, then he lay you down on the bed carefully like you were made of crystal. He raised from the bed and then he got on his knees getting a gasp of surprise from your lips. "You don't have to do that if you don't want to." 

"But I want to, I want to see if you can come just from my hands and mouth or if you're gonna need more." His words made you feel a chill run down your spine. 

His hands spread your legs open letting him see how the underwear was wet from your arousal. "Look at this, you were really desperate for my touch, didn't you?" You just gave him a nod in response. 

He took your underwear in seconds so that you were sure that he tear it apart but it didn't matter anymore, you were just focused on his breath against your cunt. 

He started to kiss your inner thighs while his middle finger and index finger entered you and started to move inside you. Moans started to escape from your lips. 

Then his mouth was on your clit making you were seeing stars, saying his name like a mantra, you felt the knot on your stomach starting to get tighter until it exploded and you scream his name, you felt how every wave of pleasure washed over your entire body. 

He got up from his position and you see how he started to to take off his sweatpants and his boxers, you help him take his shirt off. 

All the clothes were scattered on the floor. 

You lay down on the bed again spreading your legs open, he got between your legs, and you could feel his member brushing against your folds teasingly. 

"Please, Spencer, I need to feel you inside." Now you were sure you were begging him to be inside you, you needed it and he need it too. 

In a moment he pushed slowly inside you, and you felt him deep inside you. In his perspective, you were a complete mess, cheeks of a scarlet tone and moans escaping from your rosy lips. 

"You look so pretty, you feel so good, angel." His voice was an octave lower than usual making you shiver. His eyes were full of affection for you. 

He pulled almost out and then his hips snapped against yours making you moan so loud that you were sure that the other persons were hating you two by all the noise. 

The bed started to move with the movement of your bodies, the wood headboard was hitting against the wall again and again, the room full of the noise of moans and curses, and the smell of love. 

He moved to be closer to you and started to whisper sweet nothings against your lips and neck, moans of his name escaping of your lips along pleads of never stop. 

Then everything went quiet when the two of you felt the knot snapped. He pulled out and kissed your forehead with love and you gave him a giggle. 

"I love you" He whispered against your hair while he covered your bodies with the sheets hiding the mess that both of you made. 

"I love you too." You whispered against his neck and gave him a little kiss, now you felt at peace.

#plutoispurple #small account #small writer #taylor swift #criminal minds #smut #doctor spencer reid #X smut #spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #the department of tortured poets #spencer reid #light angst #18+ content #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #female writers #criminal minds angst #one shot

[rebelfell]

cold dry stone

gator tillman x fem!reader ┃ 18+, MDNI 3.5k

Revenge is a dish best served immediately and relentlessly.

cw: hate-fucking/revenge sex, references to infidelity. pretty much just blatant bullying of Gator ‘cos it’s actually sooo fun to be mean to him?? hand job, bareback piv sex, finishing inside (consensually, despite the dialogue)

What’s the opposite of a breeding kink?

Gator’s party was too fucking loud.

You weren’t even inside yet and you already regretted coming here. A veritable horde of trucks and cars and more than a few cruisers littered the gravel drive and lawn, parked haphazardly over the dying grass with no rhyme or reason.

The walls of the house practically shook from the bass of the music playing inside and the drunken revelry could be heard clear across the fields.

The elder Tillman was away for the week—off taking care of some vague and surely nefarious business—and now his pissant son was throwing a kegger while daddy was away, carrying on with his dumbass friends like a fucking adolescent despite his ripe age of nearly 30.

You wouldn’t have shown up in a million years if not under such extenuating circumstances.

The back of your neck still burned at the memory of catching your so-called fiancée naked in bed with someone who was very much not you.

The ensuing fight left you in a kind of fugue state— speeding recklessly along deserted highways, knuckles throbbing as you gripped the steering wheel with one thing on your mind: revenge.

There was no shortage of people Drew hated in this shitty little town you had both grown up in. And any one of them would have sufficed for your purposes. But you didn’t just want to get back at him. You had to destroy him. You had to humiliate him the same way he had humiliated you.

And no one said “humiliation” quite like Gator.

You spotted him as soon as you walked in the door—all 5’11 of his stupid frame leaning against the stone mantle; sunglasses sitting on the back of his head; arms bulging in that same black polo he loved to wear under his Sherrif’s vest; the tips of his fingers brushing those two slits shaved into his hairline he thought made him look so tough; sucking down a hit from that lime green excuse for a phallic symbol he never put down.

He was talking to some girl. A pretty little thing in a pretty little dress looking up at him all demure and coy with fluttering lashes and puckered lips. She was the exact type he always went for—all pliant and willing, taken in by the veneer of status and power afforded to him both by his badge and being the son of the most powerful man in town.

Tough break, hon. Maybe some other time.

Thumb and middle finger pinched together, you pushed them between your lips and blew.

Your shrill whistle rang out over the din, silencing the party save Gator’s godawful choice of music. Every pair of eyes in the room was on you now, including the round hazel ones you were after.

Good. The more people Drew heard this story from, the better.

“Let’s go, Tillman,” you barked.

With two fingers motioning in a succinct come here, you beckoned him forward and jerked your head in the direction of the staircase, heading up them before he’d even started to follow.

You made your way down the narrow hall, cracking open doors as you went in search of Gator’s room, shocked you couldn’t smell your way to whatever dirty hamster cage he slept in. Behind you, the clomp of his boots alerted you to his presence as he reached the top of the stairs.

“You can’t just whistle at me like a dog. I’m a fuckin’ deputy—”

The family pictures in their gaudy frames rattled as you pushed him against the wall, your forearm planted in the center of his broad chest. Your face assaulted his, neck stretching to kiss him, tongue pushing past his teeth into his mouth—the sting of bourbon tempered by the sickly-sweet taste of his Mountain Dew mixer and…something with a synthetic smokey flavor.

Was he just eating jerky? Seriously?

His hand came up to try and grip the back of your neck, but you slapped it away with your free arm as your other drove a bit harder into his pecks.

He whined into your mouth, a choked-up simpering sound that made your heartbeat pulse between your legs. You pulled back to look at him, eyes flickering over his face, his lips spit-slick and swollen, his chin bobbing like a chicken’s head as he tried to chase your mouth, eyes round and pleading. Desperate and messy. Perfect.

He flinched as you ruffled his over-gelled hair, snatching his sunglasses off the back of his head and tossing them away, letting them clatter on the wooden floor as they fell.

“It’s the middle of the night, you idiot,” you sniped. “Now where’s your room?”

Jaw clenched, mouth forming into a hard, thin line as he bit back what he wished he could say, he made a loud sucking sound with his tongue behind his teeth. He pushed open the door to his room and you yanked him inside, closing it back by shoving him up against it on the other side.

It was a sty, no surprise there.

Dirty clothes scattered across the floor, mixing with (clean?) ones spilling out of hampers. Empty pop and beer cans dotted every available surface, alongside bottles of e-juice that sat in sticky rings made by their own drippings.

Half-dressed girls cut out of skin mags were pasted up on the walls along with some wrinkled posters of movies and bands you liked a little less just because he enjoyed them. He really was just a teenager frozen in time, wasn’t he?

You tsked at him as you looked around, your voice ripe with judgment. “Think you oughta move out of daddy’s house one of these days?”

Gator’s eyes hardened. “He likes having me close by when we’ve got business to attend to.”

He’s clearly irked, getting that look in his eyes like when you would mock and goad and tease during recess in grade school, and challenge him to races he never, ever won.

Most everyone knew there was no love lost between you and Gator. You had always been a little extra mean to him growing up, probably as a retaliation for all the knowing glances and nudges and so-called “jokes” people liked to make about you two getting married someday.

If he hadn’t turned into such an insufferable ass along the way, maybe you would have.

The old Gator, the soft and gentle boy who was so desperate for kindness and love and approval and encouragement he’d never gotten enough of, was nothing more than an ever-fading memory now—snuffed out by Roy’s influence and all his hyper-masculine, abusive, racist, cultish bullshit.

You might even miss him if you thought there was a chance that side of him still existed. But every day that possibility seemed less and less likely.

He jammed a hand into his cargo pants pocket to retrieve his vape, probably trying to recover some vestige of his dignity; or to pretend like he hadn’t been totally at your mercy since your whistle.

Mid-pull, you snatched the lime green machine out of his hand and stuffed it down the front of your dress so it rested between your cleavage.

He started to whinge in protest, only for you to cut him off with a harsh kiss, punctuated with a punishing bite to his bottom lip.

“You’ll get it back if you make me come,” you burred, fingers now making fast work of his belt.

Once it had been pulled through the loops and tossed to the side, your fingers curled around the waistband of his pants and you hauled him over to the bed. The ancient metal frame creaked in protest as he landed on it with a bounce, his legs spreading wide and eyes flashing with need.

He would never admit to this, but he loved how strong you were—the way your arms rippled when you threw him around, the latent strength built up by a lifetime of farm chores. If he had it in him to struggle or fight back a little, it might not be so easy for you. But he never did.

“Get undressed,” you said as you stepped out of your shoes, gaze as bored as your tone.

Muttering something unintelligible under his breath, he clumsily started stripping off his polo, toeing off his boots, and tugging down his pants and the briefs he wore underneath.

They pooled around his ankles and he leaned back on his elbows to kick them away, smugness now polluting his face. He smirked up at you, eyes flitting between yours and his substantial length that flopped across his thigh, as though waiting for your awed reaction.

He was an impressive specimen, as much as it pained you to admit. But you sure as shit weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of confirming it.

You tilted your head, studying it quietly.

“I remembered it being bigger.” You shrugged as Gator’s face fell. “I guess it’ll do.”

His cocky smirk disappeared, now looking all sour and deflated as he went to pull his white singlet over his head. You placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back to lay flat.

“Leave it,” you told him, tugging the hem back down. You much preferred the way his muscles bulged out of the too-small tank more than you liked the sight of his bare chest.

He licked his lips and nodded, jaw going slack as he watched you drop to your knees, the spread of his legs widening to accommodate you as you knelt on the floor between them. A shudder ran through him as your hand wrapped tight around his length and you let your tongue loll out of your mouth, the pool of saliva you’d collected there dribbling out all over his cock.

The tip of your tongue just barely grazed his slit that was already leaking and he moaned deeply at the feeling, knowing it was as close as he’d ever get to you sucking him off.

Your hand curled around him and began to move in a slow, even stroke. It was perfunctory. Totally emotionless. Gator couldn’t stay hard unless he got jerked off a little first—probably some kind of performance anxiety holdover from puberty.

Truth be told, you didn’t mind it so much.

You sort of liked watching him fall apart from nothing but your fist and spit. Making his brow scrunch and his mouth slacken, seeing him throw his head back and the muscles in his thick neck strain as he huffed and gasped out his labored breaths, cheeks puffing as he panted.

“Wh-where’s your ring?” he asked, his voice already weak and pitiful as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better view of the work your hand was doing.

“Bottom of the lake,” you said shortly, giving him a steady glare over your pumping fist.

“That why you’re here, then?” he grunted. “Cos you two had a fight?”

“Not a fight,” you corrected, hacking another glob of spit on his cock. “We’re done. Found him in bed with some floozy from the Family Fare.”

Gator scoffed. “S’that it?”

“Yes, that’s it,” you snapped back. “That not a good enough reason for you?”

“Just seems kinda harsh s’all. It’s not like you and I haven’t been—ah-ah-ahhh!”

Your stroking ceased abruptly, a mean glint in your eye as you closed both fists around him and started to twist—not unlike the burns you used to give his arm on the playground.

“That’s different,” you seethed through gritted teeth. “We didn’t get caught.”

Gator whimpered at the harshness of your touch, his abdomen flexing under thin white cotton as he squirmed. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he stammered. “You’re right, you’re right.”

“Damn fucking right I’m right,” you grumbled, releasing your hold on him.

With a couple of strained gasps, Gator struggled to regain his breath as you got to your feet and began to drag your panties down your legs.

He was hard as a rock now—no surprise there.

He pushed himself up to lay on the bed, his toes already curling over as you climbed on top of him. You straddled him at the waist, knees bracketing his hips as you lifted your dress.

His eyes strained in the dark for just a glimpse of you, watching hungrily as you bunched your skirt in one hand and made a few cursory swipes across your clit with your other.

“Suck,” you instructed as you brought your fingers to his lips, request redundant as he was already eagerly taking all three into his mouth.

He mewled around them, licking sloppily at the wetness there, the tang of your arousal covering his tongue. Bullying him always got you riled up in a way you never fully understood.

Fingers now thoroughly coated in a mix of your slick and his spit, you reached down to align him with your entrance. His cock twitched excitedly in your hand as you rubbed his head through your folds, and he made a sniveling sort of noise as you began to lower down onto him.

His hands came up and he reached for your chest only to be slapped away as you sank further, your body stretching to take him in until he was seated fully in your heat. The slow and deliberate grind of your hips had him squirming under you already, whimpering at the sensation as your walls squeezed around his shaft.

Letting your head tip back and your eyes flutter until they closed, you lost yourself in the rhythm you set rocking back and forth on his cock.

Tentatively he reached out again, this time aiming for your hips, and you surprised the both of you when you let his hands settle there to hold you.

He was nearly silent, emitting only a few soft grunts and quiet huffs of pleasure as you rode him at this punishingly slow pace. He could be such a fucking jackrabbit sometimes, it was like pulling teeth getting him to bend to your will and go at your preferred speed.

But he was behaving surprisingly well this time.

For a moment, it didn’t even feel like you were fucking someone you hated. It was as if Gator wasn’t the one under you at all. At least not the Gator you’d despised for most of your life, but a good Gator. A Gator who listened to you and cared about you and did whatever he could to—

“That’s right, you love that dick, don’t ya?”

The sound of his voice effectively shattered the illusion you’d built in your mind, and you felt your eyes narrow as they snapped open, reality rushing back in. Below you, Gator was totally unphased, lips still quirked and his brow raised as if expecting praise. Idiot.

“Feel’s good, eh?” he asked.

“It did,” you hissed at him. “Until you opened that stupid mouth.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged with a knowing smile as his fingers tightened briefly on your hips. “I think you like my stupid mouth sometimes.”

Well…he’s got you there.

And the thought, unfortunately, has a wave of arousal crashing through your body that Gator can now feel gushing around his cock.

You slid forward roughly in retaliation, rolling your whole body against his as you started to fuck him harder. The motion and shift change made Gator suddenly buck up from underneath you, sending a jolt through your core. You glanced down at his face, all scrunched up like he was in pain, biting down on his bottom lip to hold himself together, even though you knew it was taking everything he had not to blow now.

“Don’t you dare come in me, Gator,” you warned, the grind of your hips still speeding up. “You keep your dirty fucking seed to yourself, you hear me?”

His long fingers squeezed harder at your waist, digging into your flesh like he was trying to bruise you through the thin material of your dress.

He started pushing you down to meet his thrusts as he in turn fucked up into you. Sweat beaded on the ridge of his strong brow, his rosy lips parting in a gasping moan. He threw his head back, the muscles in his neck flexing under freckled skin.

If he wasn’t such a tool, he might be handsome.

The lewd sound of slapping flesh filled the room as you worked up to a bounce to meet his thrusts. You leaned forward to brace yourself on his chest, a low moan escaping as you gripped the material of his white tank in your fists. He smirked at you, that insufferable smugness returning when he heard the sound you tried to hide and failed.

“Don’t you fucking smirk at me,” you sneered. “You think I want your melon-headed spawn? Think this town actually needs more of your godforsaken DNA in it?”

With a mean sneer of his own to match yours, he planted his feet on the bed and gave himself the leverage he needed to slam upwards inside you. The unforgiving punch and drag of his cock along your walls made you keen and grasp more desperately at his shirt, threatening to rip it apart.

“Whas the matter, hon?” he asked, his smile all teeth. “S’not me making you feel so good, is it? Can’t be—cos I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing? Right?”

He punctuates each word with an especially deep thrust and you hate how close he’s got you now.

You push back against him, returning each thrust with a squeeze of your walls. Everything else falls away as he strokes that spot inside you hate him for reaching. Especially now, as you’re going to come and you know he can tell.

With a guttural groan and making the ugliest face he’s pulled yet, Gator’s spend spilled out of him. The warmth of it flooded your whole body—never more grateful for the IUD you made that special trip out of state to get placed. Your body was still radiating from your own orgasm, all that tension and rigidness in you loosening at last like spaghetti finally starting to cook.

“Fuck, Gate…”

A languid sigh tumbled past your lips and your body slumped forward, limp and exhausted. You were closer to him now, hands still on his chest to keep yourself up, not quite laying against him, but close enough so he could slide his large hands up and down your back in a soothing rub.

“Oh, c’mon now, tough stuff,” he teased from beneath you. “Don’ tell me yer goin’ soft on me?”

“Only one goin’ soft is you,” you snapped, arms trembling as you pushed yourself up so his dick could slip out and flop over, slick and spent.

His hand came up and caught your face as you started to move off him, stilling you as he cradled your jaw in his wide grasp and a calloused thumb brushed across your soft cheek. And even though you knew he couldn’t, it almost felt as though he could see the faint remnants of tears that spilled there—the ones you despised yourself for letting fall; the ones you’d scrubbed from your face until your skin was raw and dry; the ones that made you feel so weak.

You withdrew from him, swatting his hand away as you climbed off him and the bed, ignoring the way his head had started to lift to kiss you.

Silently, he watched you gather yourself to leave.

The straps of your dress hung loose around your shoulders and you made no attempt to straighten the crooked bust or to fix your smeared mascara.

You picked up your shoes, but you let them dangle at your side, planning to stop at the front door downstairs to put them on—smiling out at the party, letting everyone get a good, long look. A big you-sized middle finger to Drew.

“Wait a minute—” Gator said suddenly, his voice hoarse and strained.

You paused at the words and glanced back at him over your shoulder. He sat up further, the heaving in his chest having started to slow, his eyes shiny in the harsh blue light of his computer monitor.

He gulped, inhaling a shaky breath as you arched your brow at him.

“Vape?” he asked, his gaze flitting to your chest.

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you sauntered back over towards the bed. You leaned forward on your fists, his lumpy mattress sinking under them as he scooted closer and you kissed him. Sweet and soft this time.

Far nicer than he deserved.

He breathed into it, sucking you down as desperately as he did those strawberry-kiwi flavored hits, his hand coming up to finally, finally palm the breast you’d refused to let him touch.

So distracted by the kiss, he didn’t notice you slipping the lime green device from the front of your dress. You pulled back from his face, grinning at him now all sly and catlike.

And flung it straight out his open window.

#gator tillman #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman smut #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman fargo

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi , miss Raven

Their is something has been on my mind for while ;

In rook suitor suit vignette he Compose a flattering poem about Crowley

While Ace and Epel was talking about how rook would compliment anyone , rook insisted that he mean every word he say .

And there's this specific weird line

"if it weren't for your presence , I wouldn't be here"

Like what do you mean?????!!

Do you think this line is hinting at the fact that rook didn't join NRC via traditional way or he wasn't chosen by the dark mirror , since he is one of the light trio

Or To the fact that he transferred to another dorm smoothly without any problem?

For some reason I started suspecting rook recently 😭

The fact he was one of the reason vil overbloted by convincing him to watch neige performance and also he is the one who convinced vil to add Ace and deuce as part of VDC team while I thought lilia and cater was a better option

I would like to hear your opinion about it 👀

Ah, so if I'm understanding you correctly... You're theorizing that Rook might be an outside agent of some kind? One that Crowley intentionally brought into NRC to facilitate triggering overblots??

I’ll try to respond to one question at a time; hopefully this will make it easier to follow along! The post got quite long, so it's all below the cut~

Beginning with Rook’s poem, and, more specifically, “If it weren’t for your presence, I wouldn’t be here”. It’s funny that you mention this line, because when the vignette first came out (in JP; the terminology used is similar to “I would not exist/be here”), people interpreted it VERY literally. As in… “Rook is Crowley’s son because he literally could not be conceived without a father! They’re even both named after birds! They have to at least be blood related somehow!” Strange how in 2020, Crowley was suspected of being Rook’s father but now in 2024 Crowley’s being suspected of being Malleus’s father. The poor headmaster just can’t catch a break 😂

Personally, I don’t think that line is implying anything strange about Rook’s enrollment. As far as we know, he did not join NRC though any abnormal means, and nor did Silver. Of the “light trio” (a label that I must stress exists within the fandom but is not endorsed by TWST), only Kalim fits the bill. Kalim was originally homeschooled, but received an acceptance letter to NRC a month into the school year. Another month later, he transferred in. As far as we know, all students at NRC (save for Yuu and Grim) were chosen by the Mirror of Darkness, even the light trio. Again, I want to emphasize that TWST does not use “light trio” or a similar term to refer to or to characterize Kalim, Silverc and Rook. We’ve gotten no formal in-universe explanation as to why those three in particular have light cosmic magic instead of everyone else’s dark cosmic magic. (This is entirely separate from meta theories, which are out-of-universe explanations for why the “light trio” exists. The popular meta explanation is that it’s because Silver, Kalim, and Rook are not twisted from Disney villains but rather “good” characters like Aurora, the Sultan, and the Huntsman.)

On the subject of transferring dorms, the option is always on the table. We see mob students talk about transferring dorms as early as 1-14:

In 6-67 (part 20 with the Pomefiore group), Vil describes the transfer process as being tedious and involving a lot of “complicated paperwork and ceremonies”. Crowley also says the process is “burdensome” in 1-20, but this phrasing is quite vague and could mean any number of things. (Burdensome to whom, the staff or the students? Why exactly is it burdensome?) Overall, it seems like transferring dorms would take a long time and require various formalities, but not necessarily be full of problems.

As long as you’re dedicated and consistently complete what is asked of you to complete the process, transferring should be no issue. I don’t think it’s a given that you’d normally experience troubles in trying to transfer. It should be smooth by default (unless the student backs out, is uncooperative, and/or fails to complete the required steps). So following that logic, I don’t think the poem line is saying anything about Rook’s dorm transfer either.

While it’s true that Rook encourages Vil to watch Neige’s performance and advises that Vil pick Ace and Deuce for the VDC/SDC Tribe, I do not believe there was malicious intent behind these actions. It’s hinted throughout book 5 that Rook’s reasoning for doing these things was to help Vil recognize the value of his “beauty” is something he gains from himself, not from the approval of others.

This is most likely Rook’s motivation for suggesting Vil observe the competition or to consider freshmen for the team. It’s exposing Vil to the contentedness that can come with imperfection or not being at the very top, something Vil fails to recognize in himself until the end of book 5. Being as perceptive as he is, Rook would have realized that outright telling Vil the moral of the week would not sway his strong-willed friend’s mind. Thus, Rook devised a more roundabout plan and involved Yuu (who, at this point, has a reputation for settling dorm-wide disputes) and co. (unpolished and clumsy underclassmen that Vil could shape as well as potentially also learn from in a reciprocal manner). Maybe Lilia and Cater would have been more technically skilled, being members of a club band and all, but they wouldn’t have provided the same opportunity for growth that Yuu and Adeuce did.

Rook is someone who has always been portrayed as a supporter of Vil’s, a good friend and a trusted confidant. He does have a nefarious side and is 100% capable of deception (like the time in Endless Halloween Night when he quickened his heartbeat to convince Sebek he was also scared and therefore was not a traitor). However, I don’t think Rook would want to betray his friends by actively harming them and putting their lives in danger (both during book 5’s overblot and immediately after in book 6’s rescue mission); he truly cares for them and wants to see them happy and healthy. (One could argue he should have voted for NRC instead of RSA to help Vil achieve his dream instead of betraying him, but that’s another discussion entirely.)

There’s no reason why Rook would go out of his way to do innocuous things like helping Epel with his UM or imparting wisdom to Deuce unless he actually cared and wanted to see them develop. Beyond the scope of book 5, why would Rook do even more innocuous things like trying to make Epel feel welcome and assisting him with learning table manners? Why wouldn’t he go out of his way to provoke Vil more often? Did Crowley hypothetically have even all of these little details down and instruct Rook to do (or not do) these things??? It sounds too far-fetched to attach a hidden motive behind everything Rook says or does. It could be as simple as “he wants to be there to support his friends”.

Before we wrap up, I’d like to quickly touch on the suggestion that Silver and Kalim too were catalysts for Malleus and Jamil’s OBs, respectively. It’s true that they were, but I doubt Silver or Kalim were aware and did so intentionally. Both seemed genuinely ignorant as to the true stress that Malleus and Jamil were under, and Silver + Kalim do not present as toxic people who would want to inflame their friends’ negativity. Of course, there’s always the possibility that Puppet Master Crowley (™) is orchestrating everything from the shadows (but I’m not going to get into the “time loop to gather all the necessary information and learn what the correct choices are” theory here www). I just don’t think Rook is Crowley’s accomplice in all of this if the time loop + intention overblots theories overlap.

This is one of those instances where I see Rook as being very honest with his intentions and because of his… generally strange character (?), his peers and players alike still suspect there is a deeper meaning to his words. I interpret his poem as nothing more than waxing poetic to expressing gratitude to the one man that makes it possible for him to be at NRC as a student: Crowley. Rook states that he wanted to give an exemplary poem using a subject that both Ace and Epel were already familiar with, so he went with the headmaster. Furthermore, we know that Rook is able to witness many wonderful and beautiful things at NRC, as well as make meaningful relationships with interesting people like Vil. He would not be able to do any of these things were he not extended an invitation to NRC—and it is for this reason that it would make sense for him to genuinely be appreciative of Crowley.

Those are all my thoughts on this matter all for now ^^ Hope it was an interesting read!

#twisted wonderland #twst #Rook Hunt #Dire Crowley #Kalim Al-Asin #Silver #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #question #twst theory #twisted wonderland theories #twst theories #twisted wonderland theory #Cater Diamond #Lilia Vanrouge #Ace Trappola #Yuu #Deuce Spade #Vil Schoenheit #Jamil Viper #Malleus Draconia #book 7 spoilers #book 4 spoilers #book 5 spoilers #notes from the writing raven #rook suitor suit vignette spoilers #Epel Felmier #Pomefiore #Neige LeBlanche #endless halloween night spoilers

[aliidarling]

i need to purge my urges, shame shame shame pt. 2

RICK GRIMES x fem!reader

part. 1

nsfw content — please scroll if uncomfortable

summary: rick has been slowly trapping you with him, but someone comes up which ends in him having to remind you who u belong to

warnings: nsfw, p in v, fingering, noncon pretty much, manipulating, gaslighting, toxic rick, creampie, baby trapping, rough sex

i took inspo from an anon who requested baby-trapping :3

dark content below !!

You thought after a few days or weeks of being a B at the CRM would fill the void in your heart, the need to go back home and reunite with your friends and family. You could only imagine their smiles and faces, as now you had no way of contacting them. Rick was watching you like a hawk, eyes always on you even when he wasn’t in the room.

The sound of Judith’s laughter echoed in your head as you sat in your new apartment, his. He had just recently asked you to move into his commander suite, which you really couldn’t say no to, who would? The chance to be closer to your husband? You would be crazy to reject such an offer.

Every day of the last week had gone the same. You’d wake up in his arms, make love, eat breakfast, and split ways, Rick off to command and you on your way to stab walkers at the gate for hours in the heat. The thick uniforms were annoying but you were starting to get used to it.

What didn’t sit right with you was how *casual* Rick was with this whole thing. You had made the mistake of trying to reason with him a few weeks ago, which now was a reminder in your head not to anger him.

“The hell do you think you’re doin’?” He says angrily, glaring at you. He was livid, frustrated, and mostly offended. He had been so gentle and kind with you, and you go off and try and run away.

“I was trying— I was, I just got lost, Rick.” You plead quickly, your words a mess as you look up at him pleadingly. Your lips tremble as you see his fists clench and his nose flare. He was pissed off.

“You’re trying to leave me, aren’t you?” He scoffs, turning away to shake his head in disbelief. “Un-fucking-believable.” He sighs to himself. You shrivel up, tears pricking at your eyes. You didn’t want him to be angry at you, why was he angry? You loved him.

“I swear, I swear I’m not. I won’t try to leave, Rick.” You step forward and pull him into a hug, burying your face into his chest as you whimper. He lets out a dramatic groan, rolling his eyes and reluctantly wrapping his arms around you.

“You can’t keep doing this, sweetheart. You know I care about you. How am I supposed to take care of you when you’re not with me, hmm? You’re so small, someone else could just,” He initiates a pew pew sound, making you flinch and curl up further into him. He holds back a mean snicker.

“Say, why don’t you start staying with me? I’ll keep you safe. You’ll wake up in my arms every day and I can stuff that needy pussy whenever you want.” He coos lovingly into your ear, gently picking you up.

The rest was history. Shortly after, you moved in with him, and now you woke up every morning in his arms and fell asleep in them. He would manage to sneak into some of your shifts as the Commander to keep watch, but you could feel his eyes burning through your uniform, you knew you were the only reason why he was there.

But today, something felt off. You were talking with one of the friends you had made in the past month, Micheal. He was one of the B’s as well, you saw him from 8 am to 6 pm every day and during meal breaks. He was sweet, fluffy hair with a killer smile and dimples to die for.

“Did you know one of the a B’s broke into the cafeteria last night and stole a bunch of food? The commanders were all talking about it this morning, they’re pissed.” He innocently gossips. He smiles at you, turning to face you slightly as he stabs a walker right in the face.

You remember Rick slightly talking about it earlier. You give Micheal a nod, politely smiling back at him.

“I dunno who did it, but I hope they got enough for me. I’m starving.” You joke softly. He chuckles and nods, his hands at work but his eyes on you.

As the two of you continue talking happily, relieved at the small distraction from the labor you were forced to do, you feel a pair of eyes burn onto your back. Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly knew who it was. You could recognize that grumpy aura from anywhere.

Peering behind you, you made quick eye contact with a tall commander. Even with the mask on, you knew it was him, you could tell. He was staring right at you, arms crossed and body language annoyed.

You shrink slightly and glanced back at Micheal, taking a small step back. You cough to yourself.

“Sorry, I’ve been kinda sick recently so.. We should keep some space, don’t wanna get you sick, do I?” You laugh softly.

He blinks in surprise before nodding quickly, a small blush coming over his cheek as he realizes his close he was to you. It was cute how giddy he was when it came to you, it was obvious the boy had a crush.

“Of course! What do you have? A cold? Fever? Do you want me to bring something over later? I have some medicine at my place.”

It was as if Rick had heard those words because next thing you know you’re getting shoved back into a hard chest.

“Consignee, you’re being called.” A rough voice says. You look up behind you to see the tall commander you already knew who was gazing down at you coldly. He diverts his attention to Micheal, and his gaze goes angry. You can see the dents between his brows that he has when he gets angry.

“Yes, commander.” You salute, glancing at Micheal and giving him a weak smile before walking off.

Rick stands there for a moment, glaring at Micheal, before following you.

Once you’re inside the building and in a private hall, he doesn’t waste a second and shoves you against a wall, his mask already off and his face all up in yours.

“Who the hell do you think you are? Flirting with others in front of my face like I’m some fuckin’ idiot.” He snapped. His rough hands go to hold your shoulders flush to the wall, his eyes narrowed with a glint of menace in them. He was angry, pissed off, and confused.

Why would you go and flirt with someone else when you have him? He was the perfect husband— talk, handsome, sweet personality, and amazing bed skills, something he was sure Micheal didn’t have. Stupid Micheal probably didn’t even know how to be a real man. Rick was a real man.

“What are you talking about?” You gasp. “I wasn’t flirting with him— what?! Me and him are just friends!” You counter immediately, getting defensive and offended.

“Like hell you are,” He scoffs, pushing you closer. His eyes gaze down at you coldly, narrowed and furious. He stares at you before pressing his nose against you, his hot breath on your face. You shiver and try to lean back but the wall has you trapped.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill him right there, would have painted the gates with his blood. Would you of liked that?” He sneers. You go still momentarily, thinking over his harsh threat, your heartbeat racing.

“No, no Rick. You don’t need to do all that— I won’t talk to him.” You say quickly, reaching to gently cup his face with your shaky palms. You gulp nervously and attempt to soothe him, rubbing gently and pressing a little peck to his lips. He growls against your lips, pulling you back in when you attempt to part. He doesn’t want to be away from you right now, he wants all of you and your loyalty entirely.

It had been a few days since then. Everything was supposedly fine, you guessed. Rick was still watching you like a hawk. You could feel the glare on your back whenever Micheal goes anywhere near you, so you make sure to come up with excuses to leave the young man alone for the sake of his safety.

You didn’t want anything to happen to him. You knew Rick. You used to, that is. You had no idea why he had changed so much, but you couldn’t just leave him. No— You loved him. You wouldn’t leave. Maybe you could help him go back to his old self, maybe he was just damaged.

Yeah. That’s it. He needs you. You have to help him. Aid him in returning to his old self so you can have *your* Rick back.

You were out by the lake when you heard leaves crunching next to you. You turned to face the disturbance, your heart skipping a beat when you thought it was Rick— but the sight of the blonde boy had you relaxing for some reason.

“Micheal.” You greet with a polite smile, shuffling on the bench to make room for him. He smiles back at you and sits down, a few inches between your thighs.

“You alright? I’ve uh, noticed you’ve been a little distant recently.” He frowned, leaning back on the bench and gazing at the beautiful lake in front of the two of you. It was fall, the leaves were falling and the sidewalk was covered in a variety of red, orange, and yellow.

Your smile twitched as you picked at your hair.

“It’s nothing, just haven’t been feeling well. I think I caught a cold.” You chuckle softly, facing him slightly. You put your arm on the back of the bench, leaning on your palm. You gazed at him closely.

Knowing Rick wasn’t here, you felt oddly comfortable. You weren’t scared of accidentally angering him by being friendly with Micheal like you could breathe clearly for once.

He gives you a concerned look, brows furrowing innocently.

“Oh, that’s not good. How do you feel today?”

A small sigh left you as you squirmed in your position, not sure what to say. Pressing your lips together for a moment, you pondered.

“…Peachy.”

A small giggle left the both of you as you sat and conversed freely, no commanders breathing down your neck or glaring daggers.

You should have known that the peace never lasted long when it came to being married to a ticking time bomb. The second you entered your apartment, the air was tense and you could tell by the way Rick was looking at you that you did something wrong.

“What’s wrong?” You said immediately, rushing forward to him. You gently place your hands on his forearms, frowning up at him innocently. What did you do? Why is he angry?

He grunts lowly and grabs you by your shoulders, pushing you back until your back is against the wall. You failed to speak as your throat went dry, your heart stopping for a good second.

“Rick—“ Your voice cracked, a yelp leaving you as his fist landed on the wall just inches from your face.

“Shut the hell up, you ungrateful little,” He inhales deeply before he says something he knows he’ll regret. One hand next to you clenched in a fist, the other rubbing his jaw in a stressed manner, he finally looks down at you with a harsh glare.

“Do you even love me?” He chokes out, blinking. His voice was scratchy, the southern accent from years ago a subtle hint now.

You blink in surprise, lips parting as you stand there confused and fearful.

“W-What? Of course, I do! You're my husband, I searched for you for years,” You were once again interrupted by him as he raised his voice at you, making you flinch and cower in his presence.

“The hell were you doin’ with Micheal, huh?! That skimpy little boy— Out there by the lake, talking like you’re two little love birds, who the hell do you think you are?!” He snaps.

His hands come up to your face aggressively, making you flinch as you think he’s gonna hit you. He instead cups your cheeks and leans down so he’s breathing down your cheeks.

“You thought I was gon’ hit you? Is that how low you think of me? What the hell?” His raised voice has you practically trembling in fear, legs wobbly and bottom lip quivering pathetically.

“N-No Rick, you know I don’t think of you like that. You’re scaring me, please.” You whimpered out, attempting to squirm out of his hold. He tightens his grasp on you, pressing his body against yours.

“You shut that pretty mouth of yours, baby, before I do something you really won’t like. I’ll give you a reason to cry, got that? Huh?” He shakes you, making your eyes burn with humiliation and tears.

“Y-Yes.” You nod, your hands shakily reaching for him as you weakly attempt to push his hands off your face. In response, he slightly slaps your cheek as a warning, a pressurized pat.

You blink hard, trying to hold back the tears. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

He stares you down, thinking silently in his head. He was quiet, and his silence was more threatening than his words for some reason. He was unrecognizable when it came to reading him. He used to be easy to calm down, but not anymore.

“Y’know, I never got to see you with a baby bump. Saw you raise Carl with me, but never saw you pregnant. Never.” He mumbles. His eyes narrow as he looks you up and down. His words send goosebumps down your spine, the dark reasoning behind them known to you. You attempt to push him off more firmly now, sniffling.

“Don’t do this,” You choke out. He ignores your pleas and grabs you, manhandling you into his bed and pressing you down. His body was big and muscular, he had grown a lot. Small pleas leave your throat as you squirm and thrash, but it’s all useless to him.

“Shhhh, I’m not gonna hurt ya’, is it so bad I wanna see my wife pregnant? You’d look so cute, belly full of my babies.” He whispers, smiling down at your form. He pushes his hands under your shirt and pulls it up over your head. It gets stuck on your head because of your thrashing, making him roll his eyes in annoyance.

He slaps your thigh once he has the shirt off you, scowling down at you.

“Behave, or I swear to god.” He hisses. He watches as you start to let tears stream down your cheeks, and he holds back the smile as he reaches down and gently kisses them away.

“Don’t cry baby, you’re gonna be the prettiest mama I know.” He mumbles as he starts to kiss up your belly, pampering you with affection that only makes you feel worse. Every kiss has you sniffling and hiccuping under him, your body trembling.

“Can’t run from me when you’re pregnant with my child, right?” He chuckles darkly, large hands cupping your belly. He squeezes it gently and smiles at your reaction.

He pulls you in for a kiss, hands tugging down your pants and panties, not wasting any time. He was impatient, he’d admit it. He didn’t want another second to go where you weren’t stuffed full of his seed.

Spreading your thighs was hard with the way you were squeezing them shut. He rolls his eyes at your fight but easily holds them apart, the other hand going down to your pussy.

He clicks his tongue as he feels how barely wet you are. “Whatever, it’ll do.” With that, he shoves his fingers into your mouth. He glares at you, waiting for your saliva to coat his fingers before he pulls out and shoves them knuckle-deep into your cunt.

“A-Augh!” You gasp at the sudden burn in your lower region, your body tensing and eyes fluttering. Even with your salvia around the fingers currently thrusting deeper into you, it still hurt like a bitch to be stretched open so suddenly. Rick’s fingers were thick.

“Shhh, take it, c'mon.” He mutters, eyes narrowed as his fingers keep sliding in and out roughly, not giving you a chance to breathe as he makes scissoring motions.

Your moans are forced out of your throat. Even with how hard you were trying to hold them back, Rick knew exactly how to make you feel good, knew which spots make your toes curl and which ones made you cum the hardest.

He ignores your shaky cries and how you begged him to stop, his fingers only going harder. You curl up at the feeling, gasping. You were already feeling close to cumming to your embarrassment.

“So close already?” He snickers meanly, pulling out swiftly and rushing to unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans. He was in a hurry, a hurry to get balls-deep in you and fuck you until you’re leaking cum. “Poor baby.” He tsk’s at your whimper.

“No, don’t— Rick,” You beg desperately as he pulls out his hard cock and positions himself on top of you, tip against your opening and his hands holding you down. You feel more tears coming as your legs are forced open and your thighs are pressed against your chest, knees almost touching your chin.

You sob under him as he slowly thrusts inside, his eyes rolling back at the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him. Even with how he stretched you open, it still felt like he was ripping you open whenever he slid himself into you.

He presses his chest down onto your thighs, legs over his shoulders, and his hands grab yours to hold them above your head. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, trembling in a mix of fear, pain, and arousal. You didn’t k is what to do.

“Please—“

“Shut up, shhh.” He starts to thrust, and you immediately start to moan at how deep his cock hit inside you. Gasping for air as you choked on your tears, his grunt grew louder as he picked up a smooth pace.

“Gonna stuff this pussy full of my babies, you’re gonna be so pretty pregnant, baby, don’t cry, don’t cry.” He soothes you, thrusting harder into your wailing hole.

Even with how good it felt to have him thrust into your body, his body pressing against yours with his lips pressing gentle kisses all over you, you couldn’t focus on any of it. All you could think of was how much he had changed. The Rick you knew would never do this to you.

Your body was being pleasured, but your heart was being stabbed over and over again, aching and throbbing painfully. You just wanted this all to stop and for him to hold you close and comfort you. Was that too much to ask for?

He groans and reaches down to get as close to you as possible, saying, "Fuck, fuck." He intended for you to feel every single inch of him, the depth of him being there in your tiny little pussy, and every feeling he gave you.

“Ya’ feel that? Yeah? Can you feel how deep I am in that pussy of yours? I can feel you gripping me, my love; must feel so good, doesn't it?” Your cries are muffled as he successfully presses his cock further, his fat head grazing your tender region and making you clench up.

“Gonna cum inside you and force you to take every drop, knock you up, and then you can’t leave me. You’re not going anywhere, all mine sweetheart.” He rambles into your ear as his thrusts continue, your eyes rolling back at the force and pace. You sobbed under him for mercy but he didn’t listen, instead tightening his grip on your wrists.

“Fuckkkk, feels so good,— Take every bit of it, kay? Gon’ make you cry so much harder if you don’t,” He groans. He buries himself as deep inside you as he can, hugging you tightly to his chest as he releases his thick load in your walls. It takes him a moment to part from you, sweating and panting. You had him whimpering on top of you, still holding you down. He starts to sloppily thrust again, making you flinch at the feeling.

“No, please stop! I can’t take anymore, please!” You plea, whining shakily as he rams into your sensitive hole over and over again. You already had his cum dripping out of you, the squelching sounds making you blush in embarrassment as he kept going. He invokes your words and continues his torturous pace.

“We’re gonna be here for a while, sweetheart.” He chuckles darkly. With a raspy groan, he grasps your waist, letting your wrists go finally and holding your waist as leverage to batter your insides easier.

“If you think I’m goin’ to sleep tonight without a shit load of cum inside you, then you’re stupider than I thought.”

Yeah, you were definitely getting pregnant after this.

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x reader smut #rick grimes smut #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x reader smut #the walking dead smut #twd #towl #twd towl #the ones who live #twd the ones who live #Spotify

[bellasprettywords]

Crappy day at the office (Spencer Reid x Reader)

a/n: This time I bring to you a little conforting one shot, as I had a really bad day at work and all I craved was some lasagna and cuddles

This is not proofread yet, srry, you guys

My masterlist

Warnings: Fluff, and this is kinda lame, I'm just tired and needed comfort

Word count: 962ish bc there are emojis

Being an Assistant District Attorney was all fun and games, until you had your ass handed to you in Court. Sometimes it felt like no matter how much work you put into a case, if the evidence is not completely convincing, and reasonable doubt just shatters the case you so much time and effort you had put in.

After the disaster at Court, the way back to the District Attorney’s Office was hell: there was a huge road block which caused a traffic jam that made you late for a meeting at with your boss; the printer wasn’t working properly, so you had to struggled when printing some files you needed for a deposition, and you still had at least six pending report for the day. Your head started spiraling, but your train of thought seemed interrupted when your boyfriend’s name popped on your phone screen:

“Hey Spence! What’s up?” you tried to answer as casually as you could

“How’s the most beautiful woman at the District Attorneys is doing?” Spencer said, and you could hear the smile that was forming into his lips as he was talking

“The day has been hectic, I don’t think I’ll be home early today; what about you? How’s San Francisco?” you asked hoping your boyfriend’s day at work would take your mind off from the crappy day you were having

“San Fran was great, I mean, it’s great, but actually, I should get back to work. Talk to you later?” Spencer said in kind of rush, which weirded you about a little, but you didn’t mind, at the end of the day, Spencer quirks were a huge part of what made you fall for him

“Alright then, I love you” you said with the hint of a smile curling up on your lips

“I love you too, honey” he said, blowing one last kiss before hanging up the call

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Finally, after a day that felt immensely long, you were finally pulling up into your apartment building, all you could think about was taking a long, hot shower, eating some takeout, and finishing the day watching reality tv to apace your mind. The way up to your apartment you were just eager to call your boyfriend, hoping this time he had more time to ramble about your crappy day, sure Spencer always tried to rationalize your problems with logical solutions, but you just needed to hear his voice to feel at ease.

You were clicking the key into your door, when suddenly, you realized there was a lovely smell coming from your apartment and with a huge grin, you opened the door to see your boyfriend, mighty Doctor Spencer Reid, struggling to take lasagna out from the oven without burning himself or making a mess.

“Hey… youuuuu” you said rushing to hug your boyfriend and you couldn’t help smiling from ear to ear

“How are you, beautiful?” Spencer hugged you back and you couldn’t help yourself to burry your face in the crock of his neck and take a deep breath, inhaling his scent of muck and coffee “I flew in here when I first called you, but I could tell something was wrong from your tone, so I wanted to do something nice for you”

“Damn it with the profiler abilities” you said, laughing playfully and merging into a sweet kiss

“What happened today? You sounded really odd?” Spencer’s voice was filled with concern, and you could see it building it up on his beautiful eyes

“Nothing, everything, it was one of those days, when everything just goes wrong” you started rambling about everything that went wrong through the day, and nothing filled your heart with more love, than seeing Spencer paying full attention to you, memorizing every detail and nodding empathetically sporadically. You rambled and rambled, while Spencer held you and caressed you, immediately making you feel better.

“… So, that’s enough rambling about me, and my tragic life, when I was coming into the apartment I saw a lasagna being taking out of the oven, so I’m guessing it’s for me?” you said trying to wrap it up, and eager to try your boyfriend’s cooking

“As a matter of fact, I did prepare a lasagna, and I’m excited for you to try it, so let’s sit down and have dinner” Spencer said excitedly, serving one generous plate of lasagna while you poured yourself a glass of wine “Here you go ma’am” he said placing the plate in front of you

“Thank you, very much!” you said placing a kiss into Spencer’s cheek; you watched him placing his plate and sitting down, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you had gotten with Spencer; he really was the whole package, he was crazy smart, sweet, considerate, and sometimes you felt that his only motivation was making you happy.

“What are you spiraling about?” Spencer said, taking you out of your train of thought

“Nothin’, I was just thinking how lucky I am to have such an amazing boyfriend” you said, grinning from ear to ear, ready to dig in on the lasagna; you watched as Spencer blushed and chuckled like a kid, so you said the magic words both you and your boyfriend loved the most to hear: “I love you”

“I love you even more, now dig in and tell me how amazing my lasagna is” Spencer said with a smug smile and you decided to comply, trying what was definitely one of the best lasagnas of your life, because of course, it was made by the man that you love

Sure, your day had been crappy at the office, but with a boyfriend as affectionate, caring and understandable as Spencer was, you knew even in your most difficult days, you’d be okay.

This is a little shorter than usual, and defenetly is over the place, but I just needed a little fluff for my night

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[bananonbinary]

rewatching danny phantom and i think part of why i like this show is the complete lack of butch hartmanish family dynamics. the world is....basically kind to danny? i mean, yeah, he gets bullied by other kids, but his parents are well meaning, if clueless, and his sister is genuinely supportive, and even his teacher who is framed as an antagonist a lot of the time genuinely cares about him. hell, his evil arch nemesis wants to adopt him! its a lot easier to stomach as you get older than other kids shows because the adults are genuinely NOT just randomly evil child haters, they just...don't know what's going on.

#i never liked that aspect of fairly odd parents #a lot of the characters were just...mean. for no reason. #binging the show really shows how like. lancer was kind of a dick in the first episode or so #but that was pretty quickly dropped #in favor of him just being an incredibly overworked underpaid teacher trying to motivate a problem student #he reminds me of like. jim from code lyoko. often in the way of the heroes but trying his best.

[maniculum]

One of the things I’ve noticed working in a bookstore is that a surprising number of people are completely unfamiliar with the normal way books are organized.

(I mean, in the part of the store where we keep the used books, I frequently have to assure people that the books are organized at all, but that’s because we have way more books than we have shelf space and there’s no way to handle that without it looking a bit of a mess.)

On one hand, we get customers who are apparently a completely blank slate in this area. I frequently have to walk people through, like, “Okay, it’s organized by subject / genre, then by author. Oh, ‘by author’ means in alphabetical order by the name of the author. No, their last name.” (Most of the people I give this talk to are, I think, college kids — it’s a bit strange to me that you can reach that age without knowing how bookstores work, but then again, I can kind of see how these days it’s possible to mostly get your books online where you just use a search function.)

One customer responded to the above explanation with “oh, it’s the Dewey Decimal System!” and I had to be like… no. Similar in broad concept, yes, but the Dewey Decimal System is a very specific thing (involving… decimals) and it’s really only used in libraries, not bookstores, because it kind of requires you to label the spines of your books, which bookstores generally don’t like to do for obvious reasons.

On the other hand, we also get customers with pre-existing incorrect assumptions, which are so often similar that I think they’re being imported from other media (though I’m not sure what).

People seem to expect the organization of Fiction to be much more granular — e.g., “where’s historical fiction?” “oh, that’s just in with general fiction.” I think some of that comes from movies (people ask where the “rom-com” section is, and that’s definitely a movie thing), but I’m not sure that’s always the reason.

(Admittedly the fiction organization is a bit more granular in the Used Books area than it is in the New Books, but that’s because there are certain genres that we get tons of from people selling us their old books, but we don’t buy enough of on purpose to justify giving them their own section in New Books.)

At the same time, people have the opposite assumption about Non-Fiction — i.e., they expect there to be one singular section labeled “Non-Fiction”, which is not the case. I’ve had multiple conversations that go like:

Customer: Where can I find non-fiction books?

Me: You’ll have to be more specific.

Customer: You know, non-fiction.

Me: [gesturing at the signs hanging from the ceiling that say things like “science”, “philosophy”, “art”, “history”, etc.] All of these are non-fiction in their own special way.

I try to be nice about it, but I don’t think I always succeed, just because I’m so often legitimately surprised and confused when someone just doesn’t know How Do You Books. I’m getting used to it now, but I’ve been working there for almost five years, so there’s been quite a long adjustment period in between.

Anyway. Just some observations.

#retail #books #bookstore

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Brand New One Shot - Last Preview

Last preview before I post the full thing either later tonight or tomorrow! No active warnings but the cliffhanger is suggestive~

"Stay...please..." you managed to respond. You made your way over to your bed and gestured for him to follow. You sat down crossed legged near the edge of the bed, Lucifer mirroring your actions. You took a deep breath before speaking once more. "I'm not angry with you, you know."

A strange mixture shock and confusion flashed across Lucifer's face. "Y-You're not?"

You smiled wearily. "No, I promise. I mean, I'm a little taken aback..." Lucifer winced. "...but not in a bad way! If anything, I feel...flattered, you know?" Your face burned at your own candor. A quick glance at him showed he felt the same heat in his own cheeks.

"R-Regardless," Lucifer cleared his throat, "it was still wrong of me. I could try to give excuses about...my ex-wife being gone for more than 7 years now, or tell you that watching you from afar just sparked something in me that I hadn't felt in God know how long, or..."

"You've been watching me?" you teased, flashing him a small grin.

"Shhhhit, well, I uhh...only sometimes!" Lucifer tried to reason. "A-And not for very long! I just, umm, I just noticed how kind you are with everyone you come into contact with, and you're extremely helpful when it comes to the hotel! And your smile...I MEAN, uhh, C-Charlie absolutely adores you with the way she goes on and on about your progress! We both wonder how you even ended up down here in the first place. And well, you...you're," he gulped, "you're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on..."

You sat there frozen, your body trembling slightly. Your mind raced a million miles a minute. You tried to get your mouth so form any sort of words, but nothing. Lucifer started to panic.

"I-I'm sorry! That was really forward of me! I shouldn't have-I uhh...God, this is the worst fucking apology imaginable!" Lucifer brought his hands to his face, covering his eyes and lowering his head. "Maybe it would be best if I just g-MMPH!"

You don't know what came over you, but somehow your lips crashed into Lucifer's. His hands flew from his face, now gripping the bed sheets beneath him. He sat perfectly still, but only for a moment. He couldn't help but give into you, letting his eyelids flutter closed and melting under the kiss. You pulled away after only a few seconds, Lucifer leaning his head forward slightly, still needing more. His crimson irises had grown into saucers, his face hot as the sun. Having the literal King of Hell flustered beyond belief from a single kiss was a sight you absolutely wanted to see more of.

"If you think I'm beautiful, then you are someone who is beyond beauty, your majesty," you cooed. You weren't completely sure where this sudden burst of boldness had sprung from, but you liked it. And from what you were witnessing, all signs pointed to Lucifer being completely enamored with it as well.

You went back to your seated position, but now Lucifer was on all fours, crawling ever so slowly towards you. "P-Please..." he begged, "I-I need more..." His face was now mere inches away. He rested his forehead on yours, waiting for your lips to touch his again.

"You want me to kiss you again?" you asked playfully. "Then you need to tell me something, darling."

Lucifer's breathing had picked up at the sound the pet name you'd given him, his eyes screwed shut. "A-Anything!"

"Tell me then," you said as you began to stroke his soft blond hair, "what were you thinking about when you were touching yourself to me?"

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #my writing #preview #hehehehehe get cliffhangered losers!! #jk i love you all <3

[aquariusmind0122]

1Am Astrology Observations!!!

These are my observations of some zodiac placements, some may apply and some wont. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't :)

I know Gemini and Aquarius are good matches but when these two are on each other's bad side it's like a battle of who can cut who the deepest with words. Things can go one or two ways, both signs communicte it out or argue it out. The arguments can become heated really fast due to both Air signs being so direct yet cut throat with their intelligent comebacks.

I've noticed a lot of Sagittarius suns/ moon/ risings in open or poly relationships.

8th house synastry is very interesting to me along with 12th house synastry. It's always a game of "will this be a lover or a enemy, or both?!"

I don't like how Taurus placements get called "lazy", they are not lazy they just choose to take their time. Change isn't easy for Taurus placements, it can even cause some to have anxiety. Taurus placements get things done on their own time.

The pisces and libra duo just makes so much sense, Libra being exalted in pisces. These two signs are always bumping into each other, platonic or romantic.

Virgos either love Aquarius or hate them, there's no in between.

Aquarius mercury people are genuinely so smart and funny, they are intellectual yet so unserious??

I don't know one pisces who hasn't been in some odd love triangle.

Capricorn and Aquarius risings can be just as intense as scorpio risings, Saturn ruled people have this bold/ mysterious look to them.

I've noticed many scorpios and sagittariuses are attracted to Aquarius or vice versa.

Libra placements can be such good siblings, they care so deeply for their families.

4th house synastry can be very beautiful, the person you share this synastry with could remind you of home in some way.

Aquarius/ sagittarius/ leo are trendsetters, I've seen these placements get their ideas stolen or copied first hand.

If a Gemini chooses not to speak to you it's probably because you bore them.

If someone's moon is in your 6th house it means that person will care so much about your well being. It may feel smothering at times but it's truly because they care.

I've seen leo and virgo in relationships a lot, it's not really healthy but both seem to gravitate towards each other.

Sagittarius suns need hugs. A sagittarius will light up a room and then go home to their darkness. They hide their vulnerability almost as well as an aquarius. Sagittarius are sidereal scorpios so it makes sense why they would be so secretive of their hard times.

Sagittarius and Aquarius are so similar, people don't talk about it enough!!

Cancer placements can be thee most caring people on earth; but as soon as they shut the world out to focus on their well being they get attacked.

12th house hidden enemies is so so true!! I have a 12th house scorpio and scorpio suns just hate me for some reason. Even when I'm kind to them they become bitter?!?. Nevertheless I'm obsessed with scorpios lmao.

Thank you for reading my zodiac yap session♡♡

#aquarius #astrology #taurus #aries #cancer #gemini #leo #pisces #sagittarius #scorpio #virgo sun #zodiac aesthetic #zodiac #astrology observations

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hiii! It's me :D

Anyways can I request a whitebeard pirates x fem child reader?

Reader is a clone of whitebeard having his haki and devil fruit ability (like the seraphims) basically reader is a little insane from being stuck in a lab

The reason why whitebeard has a clone because reader is a weapon for the Marines

Reader is a bit rude and a brat because she's scared of adults

Let's say back in marineford they tried forcing reader to fight back at whitebeard but whitebeard just scoop her up and took her back to the Moby dick (thatch, ace and whitebeard lives)

Reader has a brand on the back of her neck 'W. B CLONE' (whitebeard clone)

Reader also wear a pair of season earrings because she hated using her devil fruit abilities

So basically the whitebeard pirates are doing everything to get reader better because she suffered mental, emotional, and physical pain

(Can you also base reader of this? Reader is kinda base of my oc hehe)

Oh and reader has a sentient plush that listen to her commands and is mute

Don't forget to eat sleep and drink! Have a good day!

-Nobody knew why a child was on the battlefield at Marineford, one that looked like a little doll, holding a stuffed rabbit toy, dressed in a delicate looking dress with bows and lace.

-You were on the side of the marines, but you looked almost angry, like you were upset as the scientist beside you, your handler, shouted at you, “Attack them!!”

-The pirates were appalled, seeing a child soldier, one so young looking, being commanded.

-The scientist lifted his hand to strike you, to get you moving and the moment you flinched, Whitebeard’s giant fist slammed into his face, sending him flying.

-You could feel the pressure he was exerting, Haki from what you remembered as you were facing away from Whitebeard, seeing where the scientist landed, and Whitebeard saw the brand on the back of your neck.

-He had been hearing rumors that the government had been cloning strong pirates and marines, to create an unstoppable army. And this brand was something he had seen in the reports he had been receiving, realizing that you were a clone.

-You turned back, and you squeaked as he instantly scooped you up before leaping back to his ship, putting you safely on the figurehead, “Stay here. You’ll be safe.”

-You didn’t believe him, all your life, despite being so short, you had grown not to trust adults, they were the ones who beat you, who locked you up, starving you, forcing you to hurt others, and with it, your mind broke, becoming a bit unhinged.

-You did stay however, as you saw the scientists and marines who had been so mean to you, trying to get to the ship, telling you to come back to them.

-This was your chance to escape and finally be free!

-When Ace was freed and all pirates were retreating, you grabbed your rabbit, feeling a little scared as all the pirates made it back, including the giant man who grabbed you earlier.

-As you started to sail away, many were looking over at you, before you heard a sound, “Let’s go back Y/N~”

-You turned, seeing Kizaru there and your eyes went wide as you took a step back in slight fear, not wanting to go back to the lab, while the men behind you were ready to charge in.

-Kizaru ran for you, and you clenched your eyes shut, throwing a hand towards him in a slapping motion and instantly he hit a wall, being blown back, just like Whitebeard’s ability, making jaws drop as you sent Kizaru flying.

-Everyone turned to you, eyes wide in shock as you sniffled softly, tears trying to well in your eyes. You hated using your ability, if felt weird and it made you tired.

-Marco came over and you instantly bristled, “Stay back pineapple head!”

-Your sassy words stunned everyone as quickly everyone was roaring with laughter while Marco was trying not to be mad at you as he kneeled, “What is your name?”

-You immediately bit back, “What’s it to you?” okay… you were kind of a brat, but Whitebeard spoke next, “You don’t need to act like this any longer, you’re safe here.”

-You didn’t bite back to Whitebeard, who was looking down at you like you were a shy little rabbit, now knowing that you were his clone, as you had his abilities, and his white hair. You knew this as well, as you had seen him fighting, using the same ability you had.

-Whitebeard turned to all the others on the ship, “Everyone- this is my daughter and your new sister, Y/N!” the ship was quickly filled with cheers, and you felt weird, why were they so happy you were with them as you glared, “Who says I’m your daughter?”

-He ruffled your hair gently, surprising you as you were expecting to be hit, your eyes going wide, which some of them saw, making them curious, and angry, about what you had dealt with.

-Whitebeard just chuckled softly, seeing the front you were putting up, “I do- so let’s go on an adventure together!” You knew about adventures, reading about them in your picture books as tears quickly welled in your eyes.

-Ace came over with a teasing grin, “Aww is our little sister crying?” you instantly glared, holding your bunny up like you were going to beat him with it, “I’m not crying!” They just laughed, thinking you were cute.

-You still didn’t trust them yet, but so far, they were being nice to you and not hurting you. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to stay with them for a while.

#one piece #whitebeard #one piece x reader #marco #portgas d ace