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dcxdpdabbles · 1 month

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DCxDP fanfic Idea: Marriage trap the Office supplier!

Danny had developed an appreciation for office supplies. He didn't know where it came from; just that one day, as he was cleaning his parents' office, he noticed their invoices and Order forms were out of order, so he chose to organize the binders.

It was just to make things easier to find the information when Tax season came around, but he found a strange joy in locating the correct stamps to mark each form.

Approved with a little thumbs up.

E-mailed with a flying envelope.

Entered with a little arrow.

Scanned with a picture of a scanning machine. Completed with a little check mark. Even the Cancelled and its accompanying x-out circle made him feel giggly.

Before long, Danny went hunting from some dividers and was excited to assign colors to certain tasks. He even made sure to separate everything by the order in which it was completed. By the time he was done, he realized he had no more use for his stamps, so he chose to go about the rest of the office.

He did not sleep that night. The next morning, the Fentons woke to their office lab in its best state since they had moved in. Everything had a place, and everything was neat and tidy with Danny happily explaining his organization system- all written down and marked on colorful legal pads he found shoved in a box.

Since then, Danny would excitably talk about the newest pen, sticky note, paperclips, or paper clamps he had found. Often, they were in strange shapes- "Look, Dad, these are sticky notes shaped like toast inside a Toaster holder!"- and no one could tell why it bought him such joy.

Even desk organizers excited him, often seen changing up his things every once in a while with new highlighters or traveling pens. His two best friends were often spotted walking behind Danny at any store within a fifty-mile radius of Amity Park that sold office supplies.

But that meant no one was surprised when Danny eagerly announced he would work in an office until he had enough money to open his own stationery store. What was surprising was that Danny somehow managed to find a job at Wayne Enterprise right out of high school as an office admin assistant.

A high-ranked one. He was the right-hand man to Bruce Wayne himself, working as a personal assistant then anyhting else.

It was clear across state lines no one knows how Danny even managed to land an interview since Mr. Wayne asked for at least a bachelor in office management to even apply or that Danny seemed unworried about living in a crime-infested city working for the man that was target a lot due to his wealth.

Danny only talked about all the superb brands of pens and notepads he would get with his new salary.

What was more shocking was how efficant Danny was at his job. He breezed through his work like a pro, getting Mr. Wayne on time every time (no one knows how) and cheerfully gaining the approval of the board.

Danny often stepped in for Mr. Wayne, Mr. Wayne-Drake or Mr. Fox, quietly becoming known as "Third-in-Comand" at WE despite the fact everyone knew him as "just the admin assistant"

He was also known for being very excited to show his desk to the office, covered in cute or interesting supplies from around the world. He spent hours schooling through websites and making wishlists of things he wanted to buy and try out.

Danny Fenton was a gift among the staff. He ran the office like a smoothly oiled machine, employing new systems and communication means that errors rarely happened in different departments.

WE genuinely feared the day he would leave the company to open that store. They tried to bride him by offering to pay his entire college career and make him a head of any department he wanted, or even officially give him Mr. Wayne's PA position but Danny insisted he wanted to open his store someday.

A plan was hatched by a low-level intern who had personally seen Danny take minutes with an invisible-ink pen and black light at his interview, only to witness the man fight for his right to have a paid internship and full benefits.

He mentioned how convient it was that Danny was close to every member of the Waynes. Yes. Bruce Wayne made it clear he would not be adopting the boy seeing as he was too old for that but what if....they ensured Danny stayed with WE if they made it the family bussiness?

Danny could still be a Wayne. They just had to get him to marry into the family, and WE could keep the embodiment of an office employee forever.

His idea spread through the company like wild fire, and not long, every single person who's checks were signed by Bruce Wayne was gunning for a chance to give Danny and a Wayne a wedding.

(Unknown to them, Danny is the hero Phantom, who, upon learning Batman's ID, instantly asked to work for him in an office setting because he wanted to open a stationery shop one day. Feeling blackmailed, Bruce allowed it, thinking he would catch Danny lacking, only to....find out the kid genuinely loved his job? And was good at it?

His kids are close to him as fellow vigilantes and are unaware of the WE employee's goal.

Danny just really likes Office Supplies. It might have something to do with his Ghost Obsession changing, or it's a Specail interest. He doesn't really care for the reason)

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Danny is just vibing #The Bats too #Told through the WE employee's pov #They don't want to lose the only guy that answers his emails quickly #Or gets all the approvals done within the hour #He's so good at his job\#Marriage trap the office supplier!#Part 1

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misserabella · 11 months

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what girls can do

abby anderson x fem masc! reader

summary; abby wasn’t gay… right?

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, abby being scared of liking girls, reader is masc presenting!!!, reader fucking another girl (she has a reputation) and abby hears, switch reader and abby, masturbation (abby), kissing, make out, tension and touching in the showers, teasing, praising, praise kink, use of good girl, oral (abby and r receiving), boob and nipple play, hair pulling, hickeys, abby’s first time with a girl…

abby anderson wasn’t gay.

she had liked owen for as long as she could remember. she had even dated him. and sure, the sex was…, boring, to say the least. but that didn’t mean she was gay.

but then…, why couldn’t she look away?

you were working out at the WLF’s gym, white wife beater and grey sweats, hair up on a low bun as you grunted at the effort of lifting weights.

your thighs were spread, shirt slightly sliding up your stomach as you bench pressed. abby’s eyes lingered on the soft plush skin, wanting, no, needing to see more.

she bit down on her bottom lip, too out of focus of her own rutine. she was staring.

even more when she noticed angela passing by. she stopped to talk to you with a flirty smile, which you returned, smirk on your lips. abby heard rumors. rumors about how good you were in bed. how good you could make a girl feel. how they always came back to you for more… angela was an example of it. you had fucked her just a mere couple of days ago and there she was, looking for more.

abby watched as one of your hands landed on the back of her thigh, since she was standing up and you sat on the bench. she wondered how it would feel like. skin against skin. how your eyes would feel like on her.

she shook her head. yeah, no. she was just curious. pure healthy curiosity. she couldn’t imagine herself fucking you, or imagine you in between her legs, tongue out, mouth and chin dripping in…

she huffed, getting up from the machine she was working on and picking up his towel and bottle of water. she was not on the right head space to work out.

her way to her and manny’s room was not long, plopping herself on her bed with a huff and taking from her nightstand a book she had been meaning to finish in hopes to avoid thinking about you at all, which lately seemed to be the only thing she could think about.

that was until she recognized your voice though the other side of the wall, and angela’s, as you entered on your room, which stood next to abby’s.

the walls were so thin she could even heard the first contact of your lips against hers, the lewd smacking and the wet sounds of your tongue sliding against hers.

“you missed me, huh? needy girl…” you voice sounded muffled, but still high enough for her to hear, along with angela’s moan.

abby tried her best to ignore it, focusing on the ink letters of her book. but it was impossible to simply ignore you.

“you’re so wet…” abby’s cheeks flushed, feeling her cunt throb at your words. “you’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you? of course you have…” abby closed her eyes, trying to recompose herself. she should probably leave her room and go somewhere else, maybe pound on your door and ask you to keep it down. but somehow, she couldn’t move. she was glued down to her sheets.

suddenly, angela was moaning, and you were grunting. “that’s it. taking my fingers so good, good girl.” abby’s throat dried up. holy fuck. her thighs clenched, and her heart was beating so fast…

“fuck.” she sighed, embarrassed of herself. she shouldn’t be listening to this. but you sounded so good… and she was getting so wet… why was she getting wet? she didn’t like girls!

she tried and think about owen and the times the two of them fucked. she always struggled to get wet, and now? her hand pushed inside her sweat shorts and into her panties, fingers sliding through her folds.

she was fucking soaked.

“holy shit.” she muttered, her index finger touching her throbbing clit, her mind filling up with images of you. of your eyes, your arms, your muscles, your thighs, your chest, your mouth, your hands, your fingers…

she had to bit down on her lip to not let out a pathetic moan.

“look at you. what a dirty girl, i bet you’ve been thinking about this. about my fingers in your pussy, huh?” abby then pushed her ring finger inside her tight warmwalls, a gasp leaving her lips as she followed your voice, imagined it was you who touched her.

she was supposed to be embarrassed, touching herself to you while you fucked another girl on the next room… it was sickening. but she couldn’t stop. it felt good. better than it had ever felt before. and she hadn’t come in so long...

“that’s it. doing so good for me. want my cock, baby? want me to fuck you dumb?” she added another finger in, crooking them against her g spot as her other hand came up her shirt to squeeze one of her breasts, pinching her nipple. she nodded, imagining it was her you were talking to, you were touching and fucking. “you’re gonna cum? gonna cream my fingers?” she could hear angela’s moans, how they became more repetitive, gasps and huffs leaving her lips.

abby was getting closer, her thighs shaking. little low grunts we’re leaving her throat.

“yeah, go ahead. let me see it drip.”

she’d never come so hard before, vision turning white, breath leaving her lungs, mouth falling ajar in a silent scream as cum coated her fingers. her free hand, the one that had been playing with her chest gripped the sheets as her back arched. “fuckfuckfuckfuck…” she fucked herself through it, stilling her fingers inside her cunt once she had fully come down from it. she took a deep breath, her fuzzy brain finally reconnecting to reality. she realized what she had done, and quickly pulled her hand out of her pants, cheeks flushed and eyes unable to stare at the cum making her fingers shine. she hurriedly got up from her bed, quickly taking a change of clothes as she heard still muffled moans and voices. just as she rushed towards her door manny came in, and it only made her flush even more. holy fuck, she could have gotten caught.

“hey abs, wanna-“ before she could finish she was getting out the room. “okay… tremendas prisas…”

she went to the community bathrooms and took a towel, getting rid of her clothes to get into the showers. she slightly cringed at the feeling of her slick making her cunt stick to her panties. the water was just what she needed to calm down, splashing it all over her face.

she wasn’t gay… right? maybe she had just slipped. she was really pent up. maybe it all clouded her mind.

and then, there you were, opening the door and getting inside the bathrooms. abby’s eyes widened as she watched you slowly take off your clothes. you started by your wife beater, your hands gripping the rim to pull it up your toned stomach and chest, one of which hands you had just used to touch someone. abby wondered if you had already cleaned the cum out of your fingers, probably used your mouth and sucked it clean. her cunt throbbed at the thought. even more when she took in the sight of your exposed chest, beautiful perky nipples hardening due to the cold air hitting your newly exposed skin. you shimmied your grey sweats down your strong thighs, staying on your boxers as you made your way to grab a towel. abby’s eyes trained on your ass, even more on the wet patch on your crotch, she wondered if you were as wet as she had been thanks to your voice, if angela had touched you. had she made you feel good? had she made you cum? had she eaten you out? how would you taste? how would you sound? how…

she tightly squeezed her eyes shut, dipping her head back under the water.

“hey.” you said as you got beside her in the showers, opening the water. abby had to control herself to not look at you.

“hey.” she answered.

abby was cute. hell, she was beautiful. with blonde hair, broad shoulders, thick thighs and the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. you’d lie if you didn’t think she was attractive. but she was straight. sadly enough. so you two had a pretty standard relationship. that being said… why was she blushing? maybe due to all the steam inside or here?

you discretely looked at her.

your eyes trailed down her toned arms to her little breasts, strong thighs and her plump ass. your tongue darted out from your mouth to wet your lips. she was hot. really hot. owen was, or had been, a lucky motherfucker.

abby caught you staring and her whole face seemed to burst in flames, but of course, you caught her too as you soaped up your body, slippery hands over your chest. you two stared at each other, and suddenly, the room was heavy.

you smirked as you watched her eyes follow your touch over your boobs. maybe she wasn’t that straight, you thought, but then she was looking away.

“abby?” you called for her, and her whole body seemed to tense up. bottom lip in between her teeth.

“yeah?” she inquired, and you leaned against the tiles of the bathroom, looking at her.

“you can look.” you said, softly. you could sense it, the nervousness, the inquiries. you could almost read her anxious and confused mind, could see yourself on her.

abby’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, her wet unbraided hair falling over her face before she would slightly peek at you. she gulped at the sight. you were completely bare, soft skin in display for her hungry and curious eyes. and you were beautiful. she took everything in. the curve of your breasts, the dip of your hips, the curls on your mound, your toned stomach and thighs…

you slowly walked closer, until you were caging her against the cold tiles, chest almost brushing hers.

“i thought you didn’t like girls.” you muttered, her blue eyes on yours.

“i don’t.” she said, and you scoffed, watching as she shivered when one of your hands took her hip. she was so soft…

you slowly leaned in, ‘till your breaths intertwined. abby looked down at your lips. what the hell was happening?

“are you sure?” you muttered, your lips brushing hers. she felt her heart beating faster inside her chest. “ ‘cause it seems like you wanna kiss me… do you wanna kiss me, abby?” you teased, fully pressing your chest against hers, making her groan. “i think you do…” your free hand came up her face to her chin, thumb pressing against her bottom lip. “why don’t you open up for me, hm?” she followed, her jaw falling and lips parting. “good girl.” you whispered against her before you’d close the distance, hearing her moan in your mouth, your tongue pushing inside her own. her hands came up to your shoulders, fingers gripping you as you lewdly and softly kissed her. for a moment it seemed like she was gonna push you away. she probably should’ve. but she didn’t. instead only pushing you closer, making you hum. your hand trailed down to her neck, where you left it, keeping her in place as you hungrily kissed her.

holy fuck. you were kissing abby anderson. you couldn’t remember for how long you’ve been dreaming about this. you’ve had a little crush on her for years.

abby should’ve feel weird about it, you’d just fucked a girl, put the same tongue that was on her mouth on angela’s, used the same hands that you were touching with to touch the brunette, but instead, she couldn’t just think about how fucking good it felt.

you pressed her against the wall. the hand on her hip going up to her chest, where you cupped one of her tits, kissing her harder. her body arched against you, and her hands found your hair, tugging.

she groaned when you pulled away, kissing the side of her neck.

“fuuck.” she sighed, feeling your index and thumb pinch her nipple.

“that’s it. you like it, hm? like it when i touch you like this?” she nodded, and you smirked. “shit. never thought you’d go for girls.” you incredulously said, to what she reacted.

suddenly she seemed to be lucid, pushing away from you.

“abby?” you inquired, but she was quickly taking her towel, draping it around herself and picking up her stuff. “abby!” you watched as she hurriedly left the bathrooms. her heart was on her throat. she thanked god her dorm was a few steps away from the bathrooms or else the whole WLF would have seen her running practically naked around the halls.

that afternoon abby locked herself on her room and didn’t even got out for dinner.

days passed by in which you hadn’t heard anything from abby. days in which the only thing she had done had been think about your time in the showers. in which she hadn’t gotten any sleep, feeling your touch all over her body, your kisses, your breath against her skin…

she could hear your voice, remember your teasing. she’d touched herself to it over and over again, facing the fact that yeah, she liked girls. she liked you.

that’s how she had ended up here, in front of your dorm’s door, knocking in the middle of the night. she was biting down on her bottom lip, hands sweaty and shaky and pupils blown. her cunt was aching and her heart was beating fast. way too fast.

she wanted it. she wanted to feel your touch again. she wanted you to kiss her again. to show her what pleasure really felt like. she wanted to know what fucking you felt like. would she moan like angela did? would you talk to her like you’ve talked to angela?

you opened the door, only a pair of boxers and a wife beater on. you seemed to had been still awake.

“abby?” you inquired, fully opening the door. “what are you-“ but before you could finish she was jumping at you, her warm hands cupping your cheeks to bring you in on a kiss. your eyes widened in surprise, still quickly closing when you felt her lips on yours. you hummed, stepping backwards and closing the door once the two of you were inside. you pushed her against it, her tongue inside your mouth, her hands on your hair, tugging as you took her by the waist. “what are you doing?” you pulled away, breathing on her lips with a smirk tugging from your own. instead of answering, she tried and kiss you again, but you didn’t let her, dodging her lips. “nuh-uh. speak.” abby groaned.

“isn’t it obvious?” she inquired, eyes on your lips. she wanted to taste them over and over and over again. she wanted to suffocate.

“i mean, i’m not complaining.” you said, crooking your head to the side. “don’t get me wrong. is just that the last time we kissed you ran away…” abby’s cheeks flushed. “so… what is it that you want, abby?” you inquired, your free hand coming up to push behind her ear a strand of her blonde hair. she shivered.

“i want you to kiss me.” she said, voice low and decisive.

“i can do that.” you said with a smirk before leaning in, pushing your lips against hers before your tongue would enter her mouth, wetly kissing her. you made her knees almost buckle. abby moaned against you, and you pulled her closer to you. your hands, which stood on her waist, crept under her shirt, feeling her abs. “is this alright?” you asked. you didn’t want her to get scared again. she nodded, her hands taking yours to guide them over her chest. “oh yeah?” you smirked. “you want me to touch you?” she nodded. “words.”

“yes. yes, please.” she gasped, and you tweaked her nipples, making her moan.

“fuck. you sound so good…” she sighed as your lips met her neck, crooking her head to give you more space. abby’s hand left your hair to get the rim of her shirt, pushing it over her head to leave her chest exposed. your mouth watered at the sight, a sight that you’ve missed the last couple of days. your kisses trailed down her neck to her chest and her boobs. her hands were back on your hair as your tongue darted out to lick at your nipples, one of your legs pushing in between her legs.

“shit.” she hissed, tugging on your hair. you hummed. “please touch me, please.” she begged, her hips rutting against your thigh.

“get on the bed.” you grunted, and you two quickly made your way to your bed. you thanked god you didn’t have roommates. abby’s thighs parted for you, your lips against hers. she moaned as you pushed down her legs her pajama pants and boxers. abby shivered when the cold air hit her wet folds, moaned when your fingers dipped in between her slicked lips. “fuck. you’re soaked.” you groaned. “you really want this, don’t you?” you teased her. “want me to fuck you? want me to make you feel good?” she nodded. your fingers met her clit, drawing little circles on it and hearing her moan, hips pushing against your touch. “that’s it. just what you needed, isn’t it? poor thing just wanted to feel good…” abby’s mouth fell agape when you plunged one of your fingers inside of her warm walls. “what is it, hm? your little boyfriend couldn’t fuck you good enough?” moans fell from her lips at the pumping of your finger in and out of her, your lips brushing against her own, eyes never wandering from her face. you wanted to see her fall apart. “of course he didn’t, i’m sure he couldn’t make you cum even if he tried. but i can. i’m gonna fuck you so good… gonna make you come so hard you’d be coming back for more. begging for more.” you added your ring finger, curling them and making abby whimper. “is that what you want? want me to fuck you dumb, abby?”

“yes, fuck. yes.”

you hummed. “wanna taste you.” you muttered against her lips, and in a blink you were in between her thighs. abby’s back arched and she gasped when your tongue licked at her throbbing clit.

“oh my god.” she moaned, and you hummed as you felt her grip at your hair. you kept her thighs spread as you sucked on her clit, fucking her open on your fingers.

“pussy taste so good…” you groaned, lapping at her arousal. you were slurping on every drop of her juices you could get. you noticed her squirming, moaning non-stop. it was as if she’d never… “have you never gotten eaten out?” she shook her head and you cursed under your breath.

“owen said it was disgusting.” you felt rage flowing through your body. disgusting?

“does it seem like i’m not enjoying it?” you inquired, and her cheeks flushed, shaking her head no. “exactly. that’s because i love it.” you licked a fat strip up her cunt. “i could drown in this pussy.”

you curled your fingers, hitting her g spot over and over again. her moans were getting louder, her thighs trembling and walls clenching around your fingers.

you knew she was close.

“i’m gonna cum.” she whined, and you only thrusted harder with your fingers, sucked harsher on her clit until her moans came to a stop in a silent scream and cum poured from her hole and soaked your fingers. “fuckfuckfuck!” you hummed as she whimpered, fucking her through it.

you kissed her inner thighs, and left a little peck on her clit before pulling away. she looked absolutely fucked out as you crawled up her body, pushing your lips against her and hearing her hum when she opened your mouth for your tongue. she could taste herself on your tongue. and it was making her wonder how would you taste.

“can i do it too?” she inquired against your lips.

“you don’t have to if-“

“i want to.” she cut you off, and you smiled, kissing her back. “you’ll tell me how, right?” you nodded.

“yeah, i’ll teach you.” and somehow, abby was getting wet again at those words. you pushed your wife beater off, along with your boxers before exchanging places with the blonde, who once she was on top of you couldn’t help but groan.

“so beautiful…” you sighed when you felt her kisses trail down your neck, sucking bruises that had you wanting more. usually you’d ask the girls that you’d fuck to not leave any marks on you. but you wanted abby’s. and you weren’t ashamed of it. her warm big hands cupped your tits. “couldn’t stop looking at you in the showers… you looked so fucking hot.”

“what do you mean the showers? you were staring at the gym too.” you teased her, and her cheeks flushed.

“shut up.” she said.

“why don’t you make me?” you smirked, your face quickly changing to one of pleasure when her hand cupped your cunt, fingers pressing against your puffy clit. “you’re wet.” it was as if she were surprised.

“no shit.” you let out a chocked laughter at the little circles she draw on that little bundle of nerves. “you’re hot, abby.”

“yeah?” she inquired and you nodded.

“been wanting you since the start. too bad you were with owen.” you said.

“yeah. too bad.” she agreed, slowly trailing down your body to lay in between your legs. “but you have me now, don’t you?” she inquired, eyes on yours and you hummed.

“yeah.” but then you were moaning at the experimental lick she made up your pussy, the heavy and earthy taste of your arousal hitting her and making her groan. it was over for her. she knew she’d become addicted. “oh, fuck.” one of your hands laced on her hair, your hips rutting against her tongue. “just like that.” abby hummed, lapping at everything she could get, her strong arms surrounding your thighs to push them over her shoulder and keep you there, at her mercy. “shit, abby.” you moaned her name when you felt her slightly suck on your clit. at your reaction, she did it again, harder, hearing you whine as your back arched.

“you’re sensitive, huh?” she teased, licking at your throbbing clit, and you hissed.

“why don’t you be a good girl and keep your mouth busy with my pussy, hm?” abby swore she could come, her stomach flipping at the nickname. you noticed the blush on her cheeks. “you liked that, didn’t you? like it when i call you my good girl?” she nodded. “speak up.” you ordered.

“yeah.”

“of course you do…” you cooed, taking the hair out of her face. “then earn it. make me feel good.” that’s all she needed to go back in between your legs, sucking and making out dirtily with your pussy. “just like that. atta girl.” abby moaned, her hips rutting against the sheets in need of friction. “use your fingers, come on.” one of her hands came in between your legs, her middle fingers prodding at your hole before slowly pushing in, making you sigh in pleasure.

she started to slowly pump it in and out, relishing in your breathy moans and grunts as she sucked on your clit, after a couple of minutes pushing in a second. wet squelches coming from your pussy taking her thick fingers filled your room, along with her hums and your groans.

“good girl abby, fuck, good fucking girl.” she was eating you like a starved woman, hungry for more. she couldn’t get enough of it. of your taste. of you. “i’m gonna cum. you’re gonna make me cum so hard…” your hips were subconscious rutting against her mouth, chasing your upcoming orgasm. she only curled her fingers faster, sucked harder, until she felt it; the squeezing of your walls around her fingers and your thighs against her face and the cum coating her fingers and tongue. she hummed, suckling and slurping on your juices, on every last drop, making a mess out of her cheeks, lips and chin until you pushed her away due to the overstimulation, pulling from her blonde hair. her hazy blue eyes looked at you, and your heart shuttered. you pulled from her so she could lay on top of you. “so pussy drunk… did you like it baby? liked eating my pussy?” she nodded, opening her mouth for you when you kissed her, feeling your hands cup her ass to thrust her against your pussy, making the two of you moan. “why don’t i teach you what else girls can do, hm?”

a/n;🤭

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yandere-daydreams · 6 months

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file #4: the body mod fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!wriothesley x reader (genshin).

length: 3.1k.

warnings: non/con touching + groping, nonconsensual piecing, dubiously consensual tattoos, permanent body modification, intimidation, needles, obsessive behavior, and unbalanced power dynamics.

“Just one?”

The question had been hushed, meek, directed more towards your lap than the man sitting across from you. The warden – Wriothesley, you chided yourself, biting the inside of your cheek and attempting to remember what he’d asked you to call him, Wriothesley – broke into a wry smile, but nodded, leaning back in his armchair. “Just one,” he reassured. “And you’ll taken care of until your release date.”

You didn’t respond, but he must’ve seen the way you paled at the suggestion. “Having second thoughts?”

“No, it’s just—” You grit your teeth. Your eyes flitted up momentarily, but fell back to your legs just as quickly. “I… I’ve never really liked needles, I guess.”

You could see his eyes light up, his grin broadening as he tried to stifle his laughter. You scowled, but couldn’t blame him. He was used to dealing with hardened criminals, the scum of Teyvat, thieves and spies and murderers, and here you were – on the verge of fainting because he asked you to get a tattoo. “I promise, you don’t have anything to worry about.” At least he was trying to sound comforting, even if it was clearly a half-hearted effort. “I’ll make sure you’re in good hands.”

And he had, in a way.

You just wished he would’ve mentioned that those hands would be his own.

Calloused fingertips dug into your bicep as a scarred palm pressed into your skin, keeping one of your arms loosely secured against the mattress of the cot while the other was pinned between the bedframe and his chest (the placement unintentional, or so you hoped). You’d been shaking when he brought out that terrible machine – a vial of dark ink trapped inside of a cage of copper and steel; a single, silver needle protruding out of one end and a leather grip wrapped around the other – but it’d only taken an hour for fear to fade into boredom, another for boredom to drag on into a rotting, discolored sort of exhaustion. For as much as you’d been dreading it, there was more pressure than pain. It was repetitive, if anything – a monotonous pierce, stab, pierce, stab that you could only try your best not to focus on. You could already feel an ache settling below the skin of your shoulder, already knew that you wouldn’t be able to lift your arm for days, but you tried not to—

His needle stabbed into the thin skin over your shoulder blade, and you couldn’t stop yourself – letting out a low hiss as you flinched into the cot’s thin mattress. You expected Wriothesley to laugh, to drag a damp cloth over the affected area and mutter something like ‘bear with me’ or ‘my bad, love, my bad’ like he had a dozen times before, but instead, there was a muffled click as he switched off his awful machine, a dull clatter as he dropped it onto a bedside table already crowded with bottles of disinfectant and the nurse’s bizarre tools. “We’ll stop here. It’ll take another session, but I think you’ve been through enough for one day. For a virgin, especially.”

You were only half-listening; the phantom of his machine still buzzing in your ears. “Are you sure?” You asked, trying to hide how desperate you were not to spend another night in the empty infirmary with a man you barely knew. “It’s not that bad, I can go for another—”

“I’m sure. Sit up, I’ll let you have a look.”

You pursed your lips, but didn’t protest. You could see how Wriothesley had gotten into such an authoritative position. The way he spoke, his constant undertone of stern stability – it was hard to so much as imagine talking back to him, let alone breaking one of the rules that’d been meticulously and painstakingly drilled into you when you’d arrived at the Fortress of Meropide a little under a week ago. Still, you’d been terrified – too scared to so much as speak to another prisoner for the first two days. You weren’t dangerous. You couldn’t hold your own in a fight, or protect yourself if someone else, someone stronger decided they had a problem with you. You could barely even call yourself a criminal, but apparently, the Iudex hadn’t agreed. You’d been on your way to the fortress before he could finish reading out your sentence, and now, you were trapped in the darkest, deepest place in all of Fontaine, alone and so, so painfully vulnerable. If it hadn’t been for Wriothesley, you probably would’ve requested to forgo your imprisonment entirely and be sent straight to the gallows.

A hand on your shoulder, a softened lull to his voice. “You can sit up, can’t you? I’ll have to call Sigewinne, if you’re in that much pain.”

“Right, I— uh, sorry,” You stammered as you shook your head and pushed yourself up, careful to keep the thick, overly starched cot sheet pressed to your chest. The infirmary was empty, the door locked and sealed, and while Wriothesley hadn’t seemed to think much of ordering you to take off your shirt and lay face-down, you couldn’t bring yourself to brush off the stark, damp chill that came with any amount of exposure in the fortress so easily. You guessed that, after enough time, you’d get used to it. You guessed that, when you did, the thought of not being so cold so constantly wouldn’t make you feel so sick. “I… I think I’m still getting used to this,” you went on, with a strained smile. “Still a little out of it, I guess.”

“That’s alright, love. We all take a few months to find a way to cope.” When you glanced over your shoulder, there was already a mirror in his hand – a compact, small enough to fit in his palm. You had to crane your neck to see it, but Wriothesley knew how to strike the right angle, and soon enough, the sprawling, spiraling pattern stretching from the lower curve of your shoulder blade to the ball of your shoulder came into view. It took you a moment to make out the pattern, but relief accompanied the delayed realization. Lumidouce bells, all blossoming and linked together by a single vine. He’d finished the linework, and there was a smattering of color in the bottom corner – only, oh, he’d gotten the shade wrong. Rather than deep violet, he’d used a light blue, more similar to ice than the water nearly everything in Fontaine stole its palette from. Judging by his expression, though, all beaming pride and low-brewing mirth, he hadn’t caught the mistake. “What do you think? Don’t keep me in suspense, now.”

“It’s… nice,” you said, the sentiment sincere despite your hesitance. And then, laughing, “I was—Well, it feels a little silly now, but I was terrified you’d leave me with, I don’t know, a sea monster or a giant wolf or something.”

“Maybe next time. Not a wolf, though - you don’t strike me as that vicious.” You bit your tongue, forcing yourself not to tell him there wouldn’t be a next time and opting to focus on the soreness starting to knot in your shoulder, instead. You swung your legs over the side of the cot, moving towards where you’d left your shirt draped over an unopened crate, but Wriothesley caught your wrist, tugging you gently back onto the thin mattress. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his playfulness suddenly more irritating than it had been, a few second ago. “I don’t think we’re finished, yet.”

Not for the first time, your smile wavered. “I… I thought we only agreed to one, sir.”

“Of course.” He squeezed your wrist teasingly. “One of each.”

Something heavy and spiked dropped into the pit of your stomach. This time, you couldn’t help the way your expression dropped. “Sir, that’s really not what I—”

“It’ll be worse the longer you put it off.” You weren’t dangerous. You weren’t a criminal. You weren’t strong, but Wriothesley was. Before you could so much as push yourself to your feet, his arm was around your waist and he was perched on the edge of the cot, one leg tucked underneath him to make more room for your body, soon pulled between his thighs. The back of your shoulder screamed where it pressed into his chest, but you managed to swallow the little, pitiful sound threatening to bubble past your lips and clung to your sheet – suddenly so much thinner than it’d seemed, seconds prior. If Wriothesley noticed your apparent panic, the distress of his prisoners was an inconvenience he was willing to endure. Only half-consciously, you tried to shove yourself away from him, but his muscle-bound arm was snaked around your waist before you could gain any distance, keeping you flush against his broad chest. He was so much bigger than you’d realized, when he was on the other side of that desk, when he was engraving something intrusive and permanent into the very fabric of your being. This had been a bad idea. Trusting anyone here had been a bad idea. You should never have—

Your elbow slammed into his diaphragm, and Wriothesley let out a slow grunt, his fingers burrowing into the plush of your side. “Easy now, love,” he half-muttered, half-breathed, bowing his head to speak into the side of your throat. “We had a deal, remember? Can you tell me what it was?”

“You—you said I wouldn’t get hurt if—” You forced yourself to stop, to swallow, to breathe. “But, I only agreed to get one tattoo, and you—”

“I said I’d take care of you. Get you a nice, cushy job with the fortress administrator, keep you out of any over-crowded bunks, make sure the other prisoners don’t cause you any trouble – that kind of thing. I’m really not supposed to play favorites, so even doing that much is going to take more than a little discretion on my part.”

“But, you offered to—”

“I said I’d take care of you, and I’m going to.” You could see him fishing something off of the bedside table with his free hand, but you forced yourself not to look, not to make the ever-growing pit in your stomach feel that much more hollow. “You’ve heard a few stories about what it’s like in the underworld, right? I try to keep all of you nice n’ safe, but a few are bound to fall through the cracks. Rehabilitation can only do so much and—well, I’m sure you know all about how bloodthirsty desperation can make someone.” There was a pause, an ebbing lull to the tenderness in his voice. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, sweetheart. Are you going to help me get a little practice in, while I do that?”

Practice. If he wanted practice, you were sure there were another hundred prisoners who’d willingly lay down and let him carve a hole through whatever he wanted to. Still, you did your best to calm yourself down, to stop thrashing, to shut your eyes and try to ignore the large, pulsing thing you could feel pressing into your ass. You didn’t nod, didn’t give him permission, but when his fist balled around the infirmary sheet and tugged it away from you, the only resistance you managed to scrape up was a slight frown and a wary glance in his direction. “You’re already in for a rough night,” he explained, as if that was any excuse. “Might as well get the hardest one out of the way first, right?”

You refused to let yourself linger on the implication that this wasn’t going to be the last, too.

You clenched your eyes shut as his large hand pawed at the right side of your chest, kneading into the softened flesh with an almost delicate sort of care. “It’s easier after a little stimulation,” he murmured, as if that meant he had to spend so long circling your nipple with a calloused thumb, occasionally swiping over the sensitive bud in a way that made your thighs twitch and your face burn. When your nipple was stiff and pebbled, he pulled away, but it was a momentary reprieve – torn away from you with a splash of freezing disinfectant. It dripped down your chest and filled the stagnant air with a thick, chemical haze as Wriothesley caught your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching tightly. You felt the long, curved tip of his piercing needle against your skin, and braced yourself for the pain. Wriothesley wasn’t kind enough not to drag it out, though. “Wanna count me down?”

You shook your head, pushing yourself that much closer to his chest, desperate for any kind of stability. You’d hoped that Wriothesley would take your clear obstinance as a sign not to drag it out any longer, but he seemed to savor it – the agony of the wait, the way the dread seemed to multiply tenfold every time you forced yourself to suck in a ragged inhale. Seconds seemed to pass like frozen honey, only just beginning to drip. You’d started to think he wouldn’t do it, that he’d just laugh and admit this was all part of some bizarre, invasive hazing ritual when Wriothesley let out an airy chuckle and plunged his needle into you.

Oh, archons.

You really thought the tattoo would’ve been worse.

It was faster, at least; a bright shock of pain followed immediately by a steady, throbbing sort of ache that seemed to drown out every other sensation and fill your mind with a buzzing, numbing static. You didn’t realize your eyes had shot open on reflex until tears blurred your vision, until you glanced down just in time to watch as he dragged the needle through and replaced it with a small, silver stud – a barbell, as wrong as it felt to think of yourself having something so vulgar attached to you. You were crying unabashedly by the time he finished, pain and humiliation dripping down your cheeks in hot, wet streams, but Wriothesley’s shallow pool of sympathy must’ve run dry. “Ah, don’t make that face, sweetheart – we’re only halfway done.” You felt him panting into the crook of your neck as his hand found the other side of your chest. The last threads of his veil of composure frayed and broke apart as he groped unabashedly at your chest, toying with your nipple as your sobs echoed off of the clinic walls. You felt something thick and hot and wet crash against your collarbone and drip down the curve of your chest, and forced yourself to believe it was only disinfectant. That there was nothing it could’ve been except disinfectant.

Wriothesley’s hips rocked against your ass, the rigid outline of his cock pressing into you, incinerating any lingering delusions you might’ve had of helpful prison wardens exchanging one favor for another. Five fingers bit into the plush of your chest as he brought his needle to your unmutilated nipple, his hand surprisingly steady despite the airy, drawling moans he was pouring into your throat. “P-please don’t,” you managed, fighting to speak above the pathetic cries and choking fear doing their best to strangle out your voice. “Please, I can’t—I don’t want to—”

But, Wriothesley wasn’t listening. It wasn’t a spark, this time, but a red-hot knife, stabbed deep into your chest and twisted as far as it could go. You heard Wriothesley let out a rough groan, felt something warm and damp against your ass, and then, you were gone.

You startled awake hours later; bolting upright as you heaved in jolting, uneven inhales. Immediately, pain knocked you out of your panicked daze – sharp and piercing, imbedded into the back of your shoulder and either side of your chest, strong enough to remind you to measure out your breathing and calm down before you blindly threw yourself back into a seething pit of violent criminals. It took you a second to realize that you weren’t on an undersized infirmary cot, anymore, and another to piece together where he’d taken you – a bedroom nearly triple the size of your bunk. The warden’s chambers, you figured, as you scanned over the limited decoration and piles of dust-coated paperwork stacked onto every possible surface. Wriothesley’s room.

Wriothesley’s bed, at that. A cold chill ran down your spine as you realized that he��d taken the time to strip you out of your ill-fitting coveralls and redress you in a shirt sizes too big to be one of yours – the bleached, threadbare material a stark contrast to the satin sheets draped over your legs. You started to push them away and move towards the edge of the mattress, but froze as a door on the far side of the room creaked open – Wriothesley slipping inside and letting the door shut behind him. He moved away from it quickly, but as it closed, you could’ve sworn you heard the muffled, deafening click of a lock sliding into place and cutting you off from the rest of the world – or, the rest of the underworld, rather. As if there was anyone out there who would bother to save you, even if they could try.

“There’s my sleeping beauty.” He grinned as he lowered himself on the side of the bed, positioning himself closer to you than he absolutely had to. He reached out, moving to cup your face, but quickly let his hand fall back to his side when you flinched away. His smile dimmed, but didn’t fall away. “Get a chance to see the improvements, yet?”

After a second of hesitation, you shook your head, and he nodded to your chest - the gesture more of an order than a suggestion. Reluctantly, you pinched your collar between two fingers and peeled away from your skin. Through the narrow sliver, you could see his handiwork: a pair of twin rings hanging from either nipple, connected by a thin, lax, silver chain – so light, you could barely feel it brushing your diaphragm as the air caught in your chest.

You dropped the collar before you could give in to the nausea beginning to coil in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t bear to look at Wriothesley, so you kept your eyes on the sheets, kneading at the fabric half-consciously as you struggled to find your voice. “That wasn’t what we agreed to,” you muttered, mostly under your breath. “Can I go back to my bunk, now?”

His smile took on an almost apologetic note. You tried again. “Am I... Am I going to be able to leave?”

This time, when he reached out, flinching away wasn’t enough to stop him – his hand catching your chin and drawing you that much closer to him. You tried to lurch away, but it was too late, his lips were already crashing into yours, his tongue already slipping past your teeth and raking over your own. While your eyes widened in shock, his went half-lidded, closing just a second too late. Abruptly, it occurred to you that you’d never really noticed the color of his eyes – a pale, faded blue. The color of the half-formed flowers currently stretching across your back.

Wriothesley’s hand slipped to the nape of your neck. You let your eyes fall shut, and did your best not to think at all.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere wriothesley #wriothesley x reader

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jakeperalta · 8 months

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I am very intrigued by the idea of this album being focused on taylor herself as the artist/writer/creator.... I think signing off the announcement as "the chairman of the tortured poets department" very much puts herself at the forefront (as both a creative and a boss), as opposed to other album descriptions which maybe emphasised the stories or a specific emotion or concept. the line about "my veins of pitch black ink" reminds me of ts eliot referring to poets "turning blood into ink" (often misquoted as "the purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink"). also the play on words in "all's fair in love and poetry" suggesting a connection between poetry and war immediately makes me think of king by florence & the machine saying "you need to go to war to find material to sing". in fact the whole excerpt reminds me of that song — the line "the very thing you're best at is the thing that hurts the most" feels very fitting. I just love the idea of an album about the act of creation and writing itself (and how this shapes and is shaped by experiences like heartbreak).

#i mean i'm probably way off and it's just a standard breakup album or something #but idk i just think there's soo much there in the choice of title and the glimpse she's given us so far #talking #taylor swift

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thegnomelord · 7 months

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If Makarov managed to capture Hound again, how do you think he'd punish Hound for letting himself be taken away?

OOOOH anon you're gonna give me more ideas for the angst lol

The punishment wouldn't be as much for getting captured as it would be that Hound let someone else touch what belongs to Makarov — Hound. And what a bad dog you've been, evidently he's been too lax with the leash if his hound got this spoiled and disobedient.

Here's 2 scenes that just came to mind that may or may not become cannon idk yet:

CW: NSFW, blood and gore, torture, angst, toxic relationship, cock-warming, dub-con at best non-con at worst

1: Blood. There's so much blood. You feel it creep from the wounds on your head down to the space between your eyes and the blindfold, your carved open back throbbing like one giant wound, shallow cuts weeping blood down your skin. Every harsh breath forces the scent of death and blood deeper into your nose, copper and iron staining your tastebuds. Scraps of flesh dig into your gums between your teeth — the throat of whichever man had stabbed you last.

Adrenaline keeps you standing, muscles trembling in preparation of another stab of pain, gums itching to bite and kill. "Good," You just barely hear before a sharp yank of the leash pulls you down. Light floods in as the blindfold is suddenly ripped off, your eyes stinging from the bright light but you force yourself to look.

Makarov smirks as he watches your eyes fly to look around, wild and feral only to focus on him. There's his hound, blood dying your world red, violence blurring the edges of your vision until the only clear thing you see is him — the one who owns you. Keeping the leash tight so you nearly choke he reaches out to grip your jaw, shoving his thumb into your mouth. There's a second of resistance he'll need to beat out later, but you open your mouth wide, blood glinting on your metal capped canines. "That's better." He presses his thumb on your tongue to keep you silent when he senses you about to try and speak, forcing your mouth to open even wider until a low whine escapes you.

A big mistake; you were ordered to stay quiet. Your muscles tense, but you don't dare anger him further and keep your eyes on him. "A disobedient dog, but at least you're smart." He tuts. You don't know why your eyes want to close when he spits into your mouth, something acrid burning beneath your skin as you feel his saliva rapidly cool on your tongue. (dumb dog, be grateful he's giving you this much)

"Good." Makarov sounds pleased, letting go of your jaw and pushing the blindfold back over your eyes. "Next." His voice rings, and you feel your stupid heart ache as violence rushes through your system as another man approaches you, ready to make you bleed even more until you can get your teeth around his throat.

2: You've experienced it all: cuts, bruises, internal bleeding, broken bones, starvation and so much more — a thousand little deaths. But the sting of tattoo needles hurts more than all of that, like they're piercing deep through your flesh to ink Makarov's initials on your heart. Your head is tilted back so far your skin stretches taught across your Adam's apple, the buzz of the machine rattling your ears.

The tattooing stops long enough for you to hear Makarov scoff before a harsh slap nearly knocks your head off your neck. You realize only then that you'd closed your eyes, quickly snapping them open to look at Makarov as he looms over you. "That's better." Makarov hums, pulling on your throat skin to make it even tighter. "Evidently I spoiled you too much."

You feel Makarov shift, his gummy hot walls clenching around your hard cock as the needles return to your throat. The pain and pleasure blur in your skull, but something about the way his cologne — much harsher and crisper than the scent's of the 141 you'd grown used to — curls in your nose that makes you feel weird. You don't know what it is, but it feels like your heart wants to vomit, the sweet sensation of Makarov taking pleasure from your body buzzing on your tongue like battery acid.

A low sound escapes your chest as he finishes, a pleased look in his eyes as he traces the black lines across your throat. Just from how your skin throbs you know they're big and bold, his claim on you clear. (as it should/n't be -- dumb brute, what is wrong with you?)

"There, now you're a proper hound." Makarov hums, tracing the crisp lines — he's a good owner, he wouldn't make a sloppy job of ensuring everyone knows who his hound belongs to. "That feels better, yes?"

"Yes sir." You say.

You don't know why those words sound like a lie to your ears.

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #trinkets from the hoard #vladimir makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x male reader #vladimir makarov #good dog fic #Hound-reader

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bucketsquid · 15 days

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a tired octoling's advice for gold ???? salmon run rotations

so i'm in evp950-999 bracket right now and seeing people clearly not use their weapons correctly and it's kind of driving me bananas. i don't know why this is happening. but it makes me want to make a cheatsheet for Grizzco weapons and what they should be doing to make the shift smoother.

note that anyone can deal with maws because of how you dispose of them, same with flippers. "grounded bosses" refers to eels + big shots + scrappers (not steelheads bc you need range or piercing to get them).

so here's some weapon-based tips for anyone who may need them during the last few hours of big run + for later gold rotations:

grizzco slosher: like the explosher, a flyfish killer. hitting the cockpit of a flyfish with a gslosh projectile is an instant splat. aim well and move fast. prioritize flyfish. also armored bosses (drizzlers, steelheads, sometimes scrappers + lids) because you two-hit all of them regardless where you hit them. mind your ink, you have 4 shots on a full tank.

unless you have 3+ gsloshers in team comp, please don't waste your shots on fish sticks i beg you

grizzco brella & blaster: as rapid-fire, you need to help handle fish sticks and stingers the most; deal with them as they show up. but outside of that, you are the flexible team slot(s) and can generally handle a lot of threats.

grizzco roller: your speed and contact damage helps you destroy hordes of lessers as well as grounded bosses. use your speed to run eggs and revive teammates, too. your flick is slow and can easily get you splatted; use it to fell steelheads, ink fish sticks, etc in a pinch. you can also use your speed to set off slammin lids very safely.

also please note the knockback from running into scrappers, it can and will get you into trouble. ALSO this weapon completely trivializes Glowflies/Rush. move slowly at the swarm.

grizzco dualies: like the rapid-fire weapons, you destroy stingers; unlike them you can't climb fish sticks easily without help. work on thinning hordes of lessers, reviving teammates, running eggs and dealing with grounded bosses. your dodge roll is a very safe bet to get slammin lids to go off. PLEASE be mindful of where you end up after you're done dodge rolling or you will get splatted.

if you don't have anything better to do, just run eggs or throw bombs at flyfish.... but this is advice for most generalist and low-range weapons.

grizzco charger: first get used to spamming it at max charge. good? okay, you handle steelheads, slammin lids, stingers, and sometimes drizzlers. you can also spam shots at steel eels and scrappers pretty effectively. in a sense you are a generalist with a lot of range.

for the love of fax machine kamisama, DO NOT WASTE YOUR SHOTS ON FISH STICKS. DO NOT. even a groller will do it better and faster than you. ink the side of a fish stick for a teammate and go do something better. please

grizzco splatana: all power, no range. focus on armored foes like drizzlers + steelheads, grounded bosses and hordes of lessers. you can kill flyfish in a pinch but you risk being hit by their exhaust and they need to be on land.

grizzco stringer: another generalist/flex team slot. you have the reach for steelheads and slammin lids but you need to align your shots well to oneshot them. i suggest helping with grounded bosses + fish sticks + stingers and then doing general duties like bombing maws/flyfish, running eggs, reviving allies.

a lot of this does rely on your whole team having common sense and knowing what each weapon is best at. and that's not always reasonable in random queue! but if you know what you're doing, then you're already doing a great job. if you're doing your best and your team still fails, it's not really your fault. it happens.

be willing to be flexible based on team composition. sometimes you get 3 stringer 1 splatana and you just have to deal with it. i've had multiple 2 roller 2 dualies compositions this weekend... and had times where the only bosses that spawn in the first 20 seconds are flyfish, with no slosher present. you gotta do stupid things to survive and hit quota and that is okay!

but being informed about what each weapon can do is very helpful too. i hope i could help. :3 please feel free to add since this is just for normal wave!

#splatoon #salmon run #salmon run next wave #marine.txt #this is secretly a rant about how many sloshers + chargers ive seen in evp 800-900 who don't know their jobs.

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aerynwrites · 1 year

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Late Nights

Gale Dekarios x GN!Reader

A/N: thank you @chaoticlicense for this request, it was so fun to write for this lovely Bookworm of a man and I can’t wait to do more for him soon! Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: none

You wake to the faint light of the moon streaming through the window and the familiar feeling of cool sheets beside you, signifying the absence of your lover.

A sigh leaves your lips as you stretch, your hand reaching out to brush the empty spot next to you, joints popping as sleep slowly creeps away.

He’s probably in the library again, you think, used to Gale’s late night musings.

It truly is a chore trying to keep that man in bed sometimes, his mind always wandering and keeping him up at all odd hours of the night.

Missing the warmth of your other half, you begrudgingly slide out from the sheets, feet hitting the cold stone floor as you sit up.

Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you stand, reaching out to tug a blanket from the end of the bed to wrap around your shoulders. The tower stays chilly, and with autumn creeping in day by day, the cool air is becoming a constant.

With the soft fabric providing you a little warmth, you make your way from the bedroom and down the stairs towards the library on the bottom floor.

Your feet pad quietly on the worn stone, the ends of the blanket whispering behind you until you finally reach your destination.

The door is cracked slightly, and you slip into the room near silently, eyes adjusting to the light. It’s dimly lit, candles and sconces being the only source of light down here..

“Sunlight will ruin even the most well-made tomes, best to keep them squandered away from her harsh rays.”

You smile at the memory of Gale's explanation when you had asked why such a beautiful room was in the basement of the tower.

Hundreds and hundreds of books fill the room, stacked neatly on various stone and wooden bookcases. So much knowledge in one room, and you’ve barely managed to graze the surface in your time living here.

You navigate the maze of shelves seamlessly, having some idea of where Gale just might be hiding away, smiling softly when you’re proven correct in your assumption.

There’s a small sitting area in the back corner of the library. Two chairs in front of a small table and various rugs and pillows strewn about the floor.

Gale sits in one of the worn leather chairs, a book held open in one hand as the other toys with the corner of the pages. You slow to a stop several feet behind him, taking a moment to take in the man who has captured your heart.

He flips the page after a second or two, a small hum of approval leaving him as he reaches over for a quill and ink sitting on the table, scribbling something in the margins of the book’s pages.

You can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips as you watch him in his element. Yet, despite enjoying wanting him from afar, sleep still tugs at your mind, and you take the last few steps until you are standing behind him.

Your hands fall to his shoulders, making him jump ever so slightly, head turning just as you lean down and place a kiss on his temple.

“What are you doing up, my love?” you ask, voice still thick with sleep. “It’s much too early to start work.”

Gale lets out another hum, leaning into you as your hands slide down his chest and you rest your chin on his shoulder.

“Knowledge knows no such thing as the constraints of time,” he says, and you can feel the way he smiles. “My mind often wanders even when it is most inconvenient. I feared if I stayed with you in the comfort of our bed my mind's machinations would sooner wake you up with my tossing and turning than let sleep claim me once more.”

Humming, you press another kiss to his cheek before directing your attention to the book he was reading, now laying open in his lap as he reaches up to take your hands in his own, placing delicate kisses to your knuckles.

“Well…has your studying quieted your mind at all or…” Your words trail off as you move to step around to the front of the chair, taking the book from his lap and setting it on the table before taking its place in his lap. “Do I need to assist in luring you back to bed?”

With the blanket still draped around you, you let your hands reach out to rest on his shoulders again before sliding up behind his neck, fingers toying with his soft hair.

Now that you can see his face, you see Gale smiling warmly up at you from your position perched on his lap. His eyes reflect the warm orange light of the candles and you’re not sure if it’s that or a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as his hands settle on your hips.

“With you? Here in my lap?” he chuckles, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I can assure you my mind is far from quiet. However…” His thumbs run soothingly over your hips. “I believe my late night musings have subsided for now, and I will admit I crave nothing more than to end the night in your arms. In whatever way you’ll have me.”

You can’t stop the giggle that slips past your lips as he raises his eyebrows suggestively, but you shake your head.

“As much as you know I love that, I’m still very tired,” you admit sheepishly. “I only woke up because I realized you weren’t next to me.”

Gale lets out a little ‘ tsk’ sound despite the smile still on his face. “Well, that just won’t do. Come, let me take my lover to bed - my studying can be saved until the morning,” he says, leaning in to place a quick kiss to your lips. “I’d much rather have you in my hands than a dusty old tome. You’re much warmer, and much prettier to look at.”

You roll your eyes as you move to stand, reaching out to take his hand as he does the same. You don’t reply to his words, instead moving to help him blow out the candles before taking his hand again and leading him up the stairs to your bedroom.

The journey is quick, and before you know it, Gale is taking the blanket from your shoulders and helping you into bed, slipping into the space behind you after toeing off his shoes.

You immediately sigh as his warmth surrounds you, his arm slipping around your waist as familiar lips brush your shoulder.

“Every time I return from a late night journey to the library, I always wonder what fool would leave the comfort of their lover's arms simply because their mind’s thoughts would not cease.”

You turn in his arms then, capturing his lips in a kiss before pulling away to nuzzle into his chest. “You’re not a fool, Gale, far from it. I just…worry about you sometimes, and I…even though I know you always return, I always miss you when you’re not by my side.” Your words are a mere murmur now, sleep pulling incessantly at your eyelids, threatening to pull you under any moment.

With a press of lips against the crown of your head, Gale pulls you closer. “Well, worry not, for I intend to spend the rest of this night here with you until the dawn demands our attention.”

You smile. “I love you, Gale.”

The wizard returns the gesture, tightening his arms around your waist.

“And I, you, my love.”

#Gale x reader #bg3 gale x reader #bg3 x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios #bg3

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littlemisskookie · 1 year

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Crocodile Tears: Chapter 1

Crocodile Tears: Index Ship: Stoner!Reader | Stoner!Jungkook Description: You accidentally eat brownies with aphrodisiacs in them. Even worse one of your asshole friends catch you reading smut to cope, and decides to airdrop your collection of your dirtiest fantasies to the rest of the house. Just your luck. Warnings: Dub-Con, Free Use, Degradation, Humiliation, Dom!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, Step-Sibling Roleplay, Choking, Slapping, High Sex, Intercourse, Jungkook is super mean, Cumplay, Creampie, Oral (f. receiving), Fingering, Squirting, Sex-Toy? (They do it on a drying machine), Dirty Talk, Name Calling, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Dumbification, Lots of Manhandling, Spanking, Kink Shaming?, PWP, dear god this is a lot Word Count: 3,281 A/N: Here it is. Pure Filth.

You stared blankly at the balcony door, mind whirring with possibilities as to what your fate could be. Your mind flashed back to every time one of the guys’ eyes lingered on you too long, or every moment of heated tension you had with them. Just today you were locking eyes with Jungkook as he knelt before you on the couch and prepared a wax bong for you; the moment felt so intimate despite the fact it was simply stoner etiquette. You had also ended up shotgunning your hit to Yoongi, who had turned your chin towards him so you could properly aim the smoke between his parted lips. Or when you had dug into Jin’s pocket for his lighter, oh lord, you really had been nothing but a tease since you stepped through the door. How could you resist, though? Hot stoner boys were your weakness admittedly. Still, you didn’t think this would be the way you’d have to address it.

Oh god, they’re going to know what a depraved freak you are! The content you had saved flashed across your mind, each tag and topic more raunchy than the last. To have your most dark fantasies on display and exposed to- you didn’t even know who!- was undoubtedly an absolute nightmare.

Fuck Park Jimin, conniving fox of a man, taking his teasing with you so far as to put you into this predicament for his own amusement! You would’ve never guessed he had such a sadistic streak. You would’ve pegged Hoseok as more of the type.

You weighed your options. Option 1.) jump off the balcony and plunge to your indisputable death. That seemed very reasonable. Option 2.) stay on the balcony forever and ever. Didn’t seem likely. Option 3.) be a big girl and get into the house. What you’d do once you get inside is yet to be decided. Baby steps.

You spent far too much time merely stressing out and pondering over your options. Ultimately you took in a deep breath and hesitantly (reluctantly) go for Option 3. You tried to reassure yourself that it wouldn’t be nearly as bad and nerve wracking as your anxious mind is making it out to be. What could possibly happen?

You kept those words in mind as you closed the door as quietly as you could behind you. You snuck past the living room as best you could, still too scared to face the possibilities head on with confrontation. Jimin was no where to be found, as were a few of the other guys.

You almost allowed yourself to take a breath of relief, believing yourself to be in the clear, when you felt a surprising weight on your shoulders. Your eyes flashed to the inked arm, the identity immediately revealed. Your gripped onto the arm slung around you, face whipping around to face Jungkook. Your heart is leaping out of your chest, the gears in your mind spinning, when Jungkook smiles. It disarms you. Despite his bad boy appearance and sexual charm, that bunny-like grin just seemed so innocent. He couldn’t possibly be one of the ones who knows.

“Hey Y/N, been looking everywhere for ya!” He tugs you along, bicep curling closer to your neck, his muscles bulging slightly. You let yourself be dragged away, your eyes locked in on his arm as you thought about how nice it’d be to sink your teeth in. “Where’ve ya been?”

“Oh you know… smoking outside,” you murmur, trying to act as normal as you could. Was Jungkook one of the people who opened the airdrop?

He seemed to be acting normally enough, his usual overly touchy and friendly self. It made sense for Jungkook to be the first one to find you. After all, he was probably the most attentive to you. You wondered how attentive he would be in other scenarios.“How ya feelin’?”

“Oh?” You’re pooled out of your thoughts of lust, the hazy, dark cloud in your eyes temporarily clearing as you try to keep up with Jungkook, your feet stumbling beneath you. Jungkook looked down at you fondly, pinching your cheek to annoy you. You stare up into his eyes, trying to search for the truth in his eyes, but finding your mind wandering to indecent places again. After all, his eyes were rather distracting.

“Y’know, with the brownies you ate?”

“Oh, I-I’m fineeee,” you drawled out the words, squeezing his arm assuringly, doing your best to seem as casual as you could. You didn’t want to give it away that you were on the brink. “Don’t worry about me, Kookie.” You hope the cute nickname would throw him off your trail if that were the case.

“Really?” His smile suddenly looked more sadistic, a knowing glint in his eye. It’s his tone that sent chills down your back. It was his ‘I’m gonna call you out on your shit’ tone, the teasingly accept a dare tone, the prepare yourself tone. Before you know it you’re pulled into a room down the hallway. It was a laundry room, the washer and dryer both already on and filled with laundry. Before you could question your scenery change, Jungkook’s let you go and closed the door behind him. “Something tells me you’re lying.”

“W-What do you mean?” You couldn’t help but flush as you stammer out the words, as though you were clearly guilty.

Jungkook’s smirk looked practically sinister, and you feel the color drain from your face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Is this blog not yours, Y/N?”

“N-No,” you blurted out, denying it outright despite how clearly he could see through you.

“No?” He snickered at that, pulling up the blog, letting it stare you in the face. You tried to move away, but his arm juts out beside you, trapping you against the linen closet. You jumped as you feel the wood against your back, Jungkook’s bright screen glaring at you with malice. “But it’s got your name right in the bio. And it was airdropped from your phone.”

“What a coincidence,” you murmured, biting your lip as you blatantly lie. Your voice was quivering. You’ve never been a very good liar.

Jungkook’s scowl only deepened, and his hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to look up at him in the eye. “I wouldn’t recommend lying to me, little girl.” You shuddered at that, hands wrapping around his wrist, nails slightly digging in as you whimpered in his hold. “You’re going to tell me the truth now, aren’t you, stupid girl?” Your head was roughly jerked up and down in his hold to nod yes. He chuckled at that. “Good girl. Now, is this your dirty little blog, Y/N?”

You closed your eyes, not wanting to look up at him in embarrassment. “Yes.”

“Look at me,” Jungkook sneered, hand slightly tapping against your face in punishment. Your eyes shot up to his once again at his command. “Act like a big girl, why don’t you?”

“Yes, it’s mine,” you admitted, lip trembling between your teeth.

“Why didn’t you show me this before, baby? You should’ve shown me your little fantasies sooner.”

“Because it’s embarrassing!” you practically whined in frustration.

“Embarrass yourself for me then.” The words were an intimate purr against your ear, enticing you with the seemingly outrageous demand. “In fact, you should be embarrassed. I thought you were a good girl. Good girls don’t want to get fucked like that. You don’t want me to treat you like a good girl, huh?” His chuckle sent chills down your spine. “Don’t worry, I got the message, loud and clear.”

“I didn’t m-mean for you to-“

“To what? Discover you’re a perverted little slut? I mean look at this.” The screen was brought back to your attention. Clearly Jungkook wasn’t going to let this go, too excited about shaming you for his amusement. He snickered in your face, enjoying how you writhed beneath him in embarrassment with no where to escape. The different tags scrolled past on his screen, each one making you want to curl in on yourself in humiliation. “Wolf fucking? Stalkers? Step-Brother?” He finally placed his phone down on top of a countertop, and you’re allowed only a sigh of relief that was over with when he’s grinding against you, his hard on pressing against your thigh. Your eyes widened as you felt how big he was against you.“You touched that cunt to the idea of having a step brother rail the shit out of you? Gross little slut. You really get off on this sick shit like a fucking freak?”

You felt your cheeks burned as you thought of all the fanfictions you saved of stepbrothers teaching their bratty little sisters a lesson, fucking them like they were nothing more than toys to be degraded for fun. You regretted waiting so long out the balcony. Who knows how much time Jungkook had to scroll through your personal stash and discover your greatest weaknesses. He was basically a living wet dream, acting out the depraved fantasies you’ve only been able to imagine before. The fact that Jungkook had seen it and chose this specific scenario to use it against you only made you more hot and bothered, attempting to rub your thighs together as Jungkook further intimidated you.

Your hands reached up to grip his shirt, wanting to bury your face against the cloth to hide your embarrassment. Jungkook was cruel, however, gripping your chin again to force you to look up at him. You looked so docile and submissive in his grasp, his large hand enveloping your chin, causing your lips to form a cute pout as you stared up at him with big doe eyes.“Did you?”

“Yes…” you shamefully confessed.

“Little pervert,” Jungkook hissed, lips pressing against your neck, harshly nipping against the sensitive skin. “Don’t you think that’s a bit cliché, Y/N? I didn’t know you were this dirty.” His hands stroked beneath your shirt, fingers teasing the underside of your breasts, his thumb tracing the curve underneath. His lips slid up against the shell of your ear.“I guess I get it, though. If you were my step-sister I’d be sneaking into your room every night to eat your little cunt while you slept. I’d be finger fucking you under the table every family dinner and fucking you on every surface of the house. I’d be fucking you seven days a week, every hour, every second. You’d be my personal slut.”

You gasped at that, and Jungkook took the opportunity to slip his thumb into your mouth, his other hand pinching on your nipple, the pull rough enough to sting pleasurably. “You want that, Y/N? Like the idea of me fucking you like the bratty little step-sister you want to be so badly?”

You moaned against the thumb in your mouth, causing Jungkook to grin. “Shame Namjoon’s machines are busy. Otherwise I could have you get ‘stuck’ and fuck you without you being able to do anything about it.” He slipped his thumb out and dove in, mouth against yours to devour your moans. Your knees went weak as you felt his tongue slip into your mouth, dominating yours with ease. Jungkook was an exceptional kisser, a talent that was rare to come by. It left no room for question. He pulled away to let you catch your breath, still swept up in the sensation of the kiss. “But I think I have another idea…”

He pulled your arms up to wrap around his neck, giving you little warning as he roughly started to tug down your shorts and panties in one go. You gripped onto his broad shoulders, burying your face in his neck and squealing quietly. Jungkook’s palm enveloped your pussy, feeling the warm heat radiating against his palm. He ground the heel of his palm against you, enjoying the expressions you were making. “‘Course this pussy gets wet from this shit. Stupid slut getting all worked up?” He manhandled you, picking you up to sit on top of the rattling dryer, the vibrations giving pleasure against your wet cunt. Your hips jumped at being stimulated so much so quickly, but Jungkook’s hands pinned you down, making sure you felt every bit. His nose brushed against yours, watching your pitiful expression carefully and wickedly grinning as he watched you suffer, not letting you lift even a centimeter. “Say the line.”

“W-What?”

“That cheesy, corny line in the disgusting step-sibling porn you like,” Jungkook scoffed condescendingly, rolling his eyes in annoyance and lightly slapping your face again. “Say it if you want your precious step-brother to dick you down the way you’ve always wanted.”

Tears sprung at the corners of your eyes as you trembled on top of the dryer, Jungkook’s grip holding you firm. You internally cringed from the humiliation Jungkook was making you endure, his sadism milking every moment he could to watch you squirm in embarrassment for him. “W-What’re you d-doing step-b-bro?”

Jungkook laughed at that, a cruel howl that made you even more flushed. “You really do sound like a pornstar, Y/N. You should be proud.” His thumb slides down to your clit, the added pressure also vibrating against your core. “Say thank you.”

“T-Thank youuuu,” you rode out your orgasm, shaking as you slump against Jungkook, gripping onto his shoulders for support.

His nose nuzzled into your hair, hands dragging you closer to the edge of the dryer. He pulled your legs apart, angling your hips up to reveal your bare pussy to him. You moaned out when he slaps his hand against your mound. His palm pressed against your mouth, muffling your cry as he scowled at you. “Want our parents to hear what a slut you are? Shut the fuck up.”

He plunged two fingers into you, the digits vibrating as he curled them against your sweet spot. Your eyes were almost crossing, still feeling sensitive from your previous orgasm. You tried to moan out his name from under his palm, but he pressed it harder against you. “You’re a big girl, right? Then fucking take it.”

You’re forced to submit to his punishing pace, moan suppressed as he moved his fingers consume all of your senses. Watching his tatted forearm flex before you in an effort to make you cum was such a turn on. You bent to his whims, fluids spilling from you as you squirted, your legs spasming. Jungkook got wet in the process, a large wet spot covering the lower part of his shirt. Looks like there was more laundry to be done. He cursed under his breath, yanking his fingers out to rub his fingers quickly over your clit, making you whine. “Messy little slut. Got everything fucking dirty.”

He dipped down to give a few licks to your swollen pussy, making you cringe in overstimulation. Your thighs tense and twitch near his head, but his grip is too firm, not allowing you to close them together. He bullied his way between your legs, thumbs parting your folds to properly inspect your twitching and swollen cunt. “Jungkook, please, want…”

“Want what?” He dove his tongue into your pussy, your sensitive walls twitching around the wet muscle. “Want more? Want someone to catch you riding your step brother’s face because you couldn’t shut up like I told you to? Want to cum on my tongue and let me use you? Those sex brownies still have you horny after you squirted for me?”

“Want your cock,” your fingers curled around his locks, whining as you felt him toy with you a bit more.

“Yeah? Need it?” He licked you a little more until he was satisfied before coming up and kissing you, forcing you to taste yourself of his tongue. He pulled back, lips ghosting over yours teasingly. “Need your step-brother’s cock in your little pussy?”

“So much,” you begged, nodding as you grabbed his face, locking lips. “Want your cum.”

He growled out at that, quickly dragging you off the dryer with little patience, roughly twisting you around and bending you over it. “Nasty little bitch, begging for cum without being asked. Fucking greedy.”

You shook your hips when you felt him against your entrance, but it only earned you a stinging spank to the ass for your impatience. You couldn’t help it, though, your body throbbing with need that only Jungkook could fulfill. Jungkook bent down to have his chest press against your back, hand coming to the front of your neck to squeeze lightly. “Here’s the dick you craved so badly, dumb slut.”

It was a tight push into you, but the feeling of having him fill you up so completely was so worth the delicious stretch. Your head went dizzy as Jungkook’s grip tightened, hissing as he adjusted to the feeling of you wrapped around him. “Fuck!” He cursed, slapping your ass as you squealed and sunk down deeper on his cock. “Of course you get this wet over being used like a fucking toy. Should’ve known you were a whore, I would’ve dicked you down the way you deserved sooner.”

He tenderly kissed you, hips pulling back as he begins to thrust into you. His hand glided up to your jaw, keeping you in place as he devoured you, hungrily swallowing every whimper and moan that escaped your lips. And he called you the greedy one. “Take my cock so fucking good,” he mumbled against your lips. “Knew a dumb slut like you was good for something.”

You nodded along, feeling yourself get closer to the edge with his degradation. “Am I the first one to fuck this slutty pussy so far?” he questioned, growling out the words as he focused on battering the sweet spot inside you.

“Yes, y-you-“

“Good,” he grunted. “Your step brother should be the first one to feel how tight this wet cunt is. It’s my right.”

“Yes, it is!” You whined against him, rolling your hips against his. “J-Jungkook-“

“Gonna cum again? Horny fucking slut.” His digits travelled down to toy with your clit. “Fucking cum then while I fill you up, pretty.”

You let go, shaking beneath Jungkook as your orgasm washed over you. You felt the strange, warm sensation of Jungkook’s cum painting your walls white. Quickly, he turned you around, yanking out his cock to give the last few strokes, spreading your legs before cumming on your swollen pussy, covering your folds in cum. He let his cock stroke against you, smearing the cum against you, making you bite your lip in arousal. Feeling it drip out of you and smeared on top of you felt super degrading, like you were just something for him to dump his load on.

As if to further his point, he plunged his fingers inside, watching the milky white substance coat his fingers along with your slick. He wiped his fingers against your cum covered skin, smearing it on you to dirty you further, biting his lip as he admired his art work.

Jungkook kissed you slowly, kisses soft, calming you down as you both came down from your respective highs. He was practically the only thing holding you up, his arms wrapped around you tightly as you processed the intensity of what you just did. His hands ran over your trembling body, helping to bring you down to Earth.

“Fuck,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, gazing at your fucked out expression. “Knew you were a little freak.”

#jungkook #jungkook smut #smut #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario

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saint--claire · 8 months

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When I was a little child, there was a particular library book I checked out week after week, endlessly renewing it as much as I was able. The book, How to Raise and Keep a Dragon by John Topsell was a quasi-nonfiction guide to, as you guessed, rearing different species of dragons. I loved it. Tiny-me had plans.

As an adult, I tried to buy it a few times. No dice. The book was so old that no mainstream bookseller stocked it. Even when I tried niche websites recommended by various booksellers and librarians, I still couldn't find it. It was sadly lost to time, apparently not popular enough to make it into the archives.

But.

My best friend had a copy of that book. We're going to call her G, for several reasons not relevant at the moment. I was discussing my search with G one day, for some reason I can't remember now. She got a funny look on her face, asked me a few questions about the cover, listened to me do a very poor job of explaining with my hands how the hardcover copy had included a real gemstone in the dragon's forehead, and then went off to fish it out of her bookcase.

I was Gobsmacked.

I should not have been, given that the history of shared childhood books between us both would have made a circle with ragged edges, more so than a venn diagram, but I digress. The book came home to live in my house for a few months, and I was delighted by the chance to read it again.

Do people remember those type of books? Dragonology, Egyptology, The Stone Age - a way of introducing children to non fiction. They very earnestly spoke about the responsibilities needed to raise dragons, the practicalities involved. There was a record of registration you could fill out, if you had carefully considered the information to your self and felt you were responsible enough to to go through with adopting a dragon.

I vaguely remember filling out some of the riddle and puzzle questions in the Dragonology books. I would never have written in John Topsell's book, it was a library book.

But.

When I re-read G's copy at home, smiling over the familiar artwork, I was surprised to turn the page and find the painstaking, somewhat-wonky handwriting staring back at at me. Baby G, with her name spelled out in freshly-joined but still-not-quite-got-the-hang-of-this-yet cursive lettering. Baby G had filled the registration out in her best handwriting, in glittery green gel pen to denote the importance of the document. This was compared to the earlier, less important checklists done in plain black ink.

I read the registration certificate. Smiled. Smiled some more at the names listed for G's dragon, her dam, and her sire - Eragon was also a great book. Go off, Christopher Paolini.

Breed; standard Western Dragon. The box 'miniture' was ticked, to show that G's dragon was of the minature specic variety, rather than a full size dragon. This was, as she would later explain to me, chosen on the basis that baby-G felt it was the more financially responsible choice. Also so she could keep her dragon in her house with her, but we're not there yet.

I looked at that certificate. Looked at it again. Looked at the calendar, and then looked at the sewing machine I had just been given for Christmas.

G celebrates her birthday in January.

The template came first. I studied the different images of the standard western dragon through the book, picked my favourite, and re-drew it to a significantly larger scale.

Inking the design to the fabric, four times over probably took the longest.

I very subtly asked G the next time she was over (after hurling all dragon-related materials in a panic into the depths of my wardrobe) what type of colour dragon she would have, should it come up. As G later said, that type of question from me truly did not register as anything other than a question asked from theoretical interest. I transitioned the topic as discreetly as I could after she answered, and delightfully, my sneakiness went in one ear, out the other, and she forgot I had ever asked until several weeks later.

I enjoyed painting them.

Don't ask me how many mistakes I made through this process. So many. I do already know how to sew, but it's been a long time. I'd been meaning to get back into it for a while.

Given that various aunts and grandmothers and my mother had a knack for calling when I was up to my elbows in either paint or pins, it became a family affair. Each of them peered at the project through face time and offered their advice.

Some of the advice I took, some I didn't. No regrets about sewing it in pink thread. Considerable regrets about accidentally slicing one of the feet in half and having to fix that.

In the end though, she was finished.

I carefully pinned on her name tag, with the name baby-G had chosen with a little blue ribbon. A collar was unacceptable, this is a dragon, people, come on. Dragon's don't wear collars.

I put the book in the box, open to the registration certificate, and put the dragon on top. Wrapped the whole thing up with a bow and then refused to touch it before I sent myself mad trying to fix details that didn't really need to be fixed.

A bit late for her birthday, sure, but there we are. We'd gone for a trip off to nowhere for a weekend, to go try wine made out of blueberries and hike up a waterfall. (And climb on it. And swim in it. It was a very good waterfall).

I gave her the box, informed her she wasn't allowed to keep the box, just the contents (it was the only thing I had that was big enough for me to keep all of my A3 portfolios in, it had only been temporarily-repurposed as dragon housing), and then left the next bit up to the gods.

A surprise, sitting un-awaited for some 15 years in amber, to catch up to baby G and adult G together.

Happy Birthday, baby and adult G.

#StClaire speaks #How to Raise & Keep A Dragon #John Topsell #Joe Nigg #the thing about problems hammers and nails #except in this case it was childhood wishes and sewing machines #and as someone said #you were relearning to sew and you started with THAT?#well no #I started with a scrub hat #which kept the hair out of my face while I painted this #and then also that apron my aunt gave me the pieces to years ago that I refused point blank to do by hand #but yeah #101 mistakes later #and one re-attached foot #pretty happy with her #dragons

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