#wc: 187

[fletching-scar]

Mauvier stands like a marble pillar might, something that hadn't moved for centuries. There might be some gravitas in it, if his face wasn't so damn sour, if his armor wasn't creaking louder than the rolling thunder.

And then he starts in scolding, like Shinon is some brat. Like Shinon's going to give a shit. There's only one man who can really chasten him, and that man is dead in the ground.

Shinon laughs, bitter as lemon rind. His attitude, his composure, his renown. None of it's worth a damn when he's half-frozen, soaked down deeper than the marrow.

The only little sun-spot here is the annoyance on Mauvier's face. Or--call it consternation, for a jumped-up bluestocking like him. Shinon likes the way his brow crinkles, a deep crooked furrow right over his nose.

"As y'wish," he drones, "Y'r Highliness."

Rolling his eyes, Shinon shoulders past the great bastard, ducking into the tent. Dripping all over the floor he's meant to sleep on tonight. Fuck.

With a great growling gravelly sigh, Shinon wrings the deluge from his hair--and, without ceremony, begins to strip out of his jacket.

i'm a plow and you're a furrow / i'm a fox and you're a burrow

starter for @contempenitent

Shinon knows, in the rotted-out catacombs of his mind, that the bandit camp is empty. They saw church-men raise the flag of Seiros over Garreg Mach's burnt husk, and anticipated exactly this.

This, a dispatch of watchful eyes, of arrow-points and spearheads. This, a solemn vigil, this, two sodden bastards and a pup tent and a stakeout in the pissing rain.

Shinon and--and some other guy, whatsit, Mauvier--surveilling the movements of a buncha schmucks who cleared out days ago.

"There's no one here," grits Shinon, for the nth time, even though he's damn sure he'll be flogged if he crawls back to Garreg Mach before the two-night vigil is up.

He grinds his teeth. Paces. Snaps a thrice-damned twig under his foot, loudly.

There are no ruffians about to mark the sound. He knows this.

He knows this, and there's sweet fuck-all he can do about it.

"I'll throw a fuckin' rock down there," grunts Shinon, with a sweeping gesture to the barren camp below. "See if I don't, and nothing's gonna happen."

[seasprincess]

Yapping

gf!reader x early seasons!Spencer ☆

In which your nerdy boyfriend won’t just stop talking. So you make him….

warnings: MDNI, sub!Spencer, handjob (m receiving), whiny Spencer, he’s a bit pathetic x

wc:811

♡₊˚ ・₊ ♪ ✧ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ♡₊˚ ・₊ ♪ ✧ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

After working for the past couple days on a hard case that took a lot out of you and the rest of the team. It’s a tough time sometimes. Wearing all of you out.

Apart from one genius who just won’t be quiet now that you two are home alone.

“A vast majority of unsubs have that MO.” He says before getting cut off by you placing your lips back on his. You’re sitting on his lap trying to just make out with him. And of course he’s speaking at a million miles per minute. Nothing out of the ordinary of course.

“They usually aren’t driven by-“ He’s cut off again, lips reconnecting making a sound that makes your cheeks flush. Why is he still talking? Sometimes this man cannot take a hint.

Your hands come up to his cheeks as you try pull him closer in the kiss but as soon as your lips leave his he’s back at it again.

“-The killing. They’re more interested in-“

Another kiss. Hand on his shirt pulling his chest towards yours, feeling him against you is just what you needed right now.

“They’re more interested in the body parts. So psychologically the-“ His voice goes up in a squeak at the end of his sentence when he feels your hand on his crotch.

“For the love of god Spencer. Please shut up.” You say as you close your eyes. Taking a breath. “I love you and your rambles but right now I need something else.”

Spencer freezes at your words and touch. His mind which was once preoccupied is now completely on you and only you. He takes a shaky breath as he suddenly snaps into reality.

You’re sitting on his lap, chest to chest kissing him. And what’s he doing? Rambling about a case that’s now solved.

He has a real life beautiful girl sitting on his lap and he’s being a nerd and yapping.

“Y-yeah. Sorry.” He says softly, voice catching in his throat. Finally understanding what you are wanting.

Yes you and him have done stuff before but every time he still acts like an innocent virgin boy who's never touched a woman.

“Good. Thank you.” You say as your lips reconnect with his. Moving slow and passionate against his. Just the way he likes, it makes him a mess.

As your tongue enters his mouth he lets out a little whine. He’s turning to puff in your hands by just a simple kiss. It’s pathetic. He knows it’s pathetic. But he knows you like that.

“Please.” He whines out against your lips as his hand finally touches you. Gently, not fully touching you. Too scared to do anything.

“Please what?” You say as your thumbs stroke his cheeks, smiling down at him before placing a kiss to his head. The poor boy beneath you is practically shaking beneath you with nerves and excitement.

“Touch me.” He manages to breathe out.

You don’t need to be told twice, hand darting to his pants zipper.

Spencer can feel your fingers working over the material that covers his cock. It twitches as he lets out another whine. The man has an IQ of 187 but when he’s with you, you’d never guess.

Your hands slip into his pants, palming him through his boxers with a smile on your face. You love making him feel good. Even if you’re not getting anything. Cause the noises and the way he is is enough for you.

“P-please.” He moans out all needy and worked up for you.

You kiss him again. He kisses you back with more strength this time. Showing you just how needy he is.

Your hands pull his pants and boxers down, him lifting his hips up to help you.

His cock is already leaking and aching for your touch. For any sense of relief as it’s all too much for the doctor.

Your hands wrap around his length before gently stroking up and down.

Spencer breaks the kiss as he moans. Looking down at your hand working on him. The sight makes his stomach tighten.

His head falls back against the couch as he grips the pillows, knuckles turning white as he breathes heavily.

“Oh-oh-“ He moans out again as you look up at him, kissing his lips again.

The noises that Spencer keeps making are drowned out in your mouth. And all you can do is smile.

Your hand speeds up and his brain malfunctions. The pleasure he’s feeling of your hand on his cock mixed with you kissing him is enough to put him in a coma.

“I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-“ He says quickly, the words leaving his mouth followed by a moan.

You just keep going. His cock twitching in your grip before he releases.

You simply just place another kiss on his lips as you smile.

a/n: not proof read. need him x

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡What A Tease｡⋆.

Loki x plus size reader

The one rule of being a girlfriend is to take your boyfriend’s clothes and you are damn good at it.

Warnings: implied smut, fluff, established relationship, wearing your partner’s clothes WC: 663 Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You really liked wearing Loki’s clothes. They were soft and always seemed to partly swim on your plump frame no matter how tight they looked on your partner. You knew he had enchanted them just for you and yet he still complained when you wore them.

You could hear the slamming of the wardrobe drawers as soon as you stepped out of the small library/study where you had spent the morning. 

“By the Norns where have they all gone!” Heat prickled the back of your neck as the love of your life let out another frustrated groan and stormed from your shared bedroom. Wearing only his dark slacks, his toned, pale torso was on display just for you. Your eyes hungrily trailed down the length of his body, paying particular attention to the thick thatch of black hair that poked up just above the line of his belt. 

“You!” In two long strides, he was right in front of you, his chest heaving, dark hair tousled so perfectly.

You bit down on your lip to hold back a giggle. “Me? Whatever could I have done to get you this… worked up?” Your index finger hooked into his belt loop and tugged him closer to your body as you spoke. His eyes darkened just the way you wanted them to but suddenly, he was an arm’s length away.

“No, no. You fucking minx that won’t work on me today.”

“So you’re saying it’ll work on another day. I’ll keep that in mind.” He glowered at you.

“Where are all my shirts?” You smirked, popping out your wide hip. Loki’s gaze snapped to the now exposed top of your thigh, where he suspected that you weren’t wearing anything under the large button-up you had donned this morning. 

“Have you checked the laundry?” 

“Have I checked the laundry? Of course I did! And the bathroom hamper, and the closet, even the living room but it seems I should have checked the study first my darling.” He purred though he remained rooted to the spot, as if moving would break his motivation entirely.

“And what is so important about having a shirt today? I am more than happy to let you walk around shirtless, in fact I prefer it.” You took the step forward, letting your hand hover just above his abs. Loki grabbed your wrist before you could touch him.

“You know I have to leave today and I cannot very well turn up to the TVA like this, no matter how much you like it.”

Your bottom lip jutted out. “I thought you would give me anything I wanted. Do you not love me anymore?”

“You’re a devil.” He sighed and pulled you into his arms.

“Your devil.” You reminded him with a gentle kiss to his collarbone.

“My devil who needs to give me that shirt.” He tugged at the hem which rested just below the curve of your ass. “And tonight, I’ll do whatever you wish of me. I will be your servant.” You hummed and shut your eyes, snuggling in even closer.

“Will you give me a massage?”

“It would be an honour.”

“Get me take-out?”

“From wherever you want, even from the furthest reaches of time and space.”

“Let me peg you?”

He tugged you back so your eyes met his. “Now you’re pushing it.” You beamed at him. “Now, can I have my shirt please my darling?”

“Of course, you just had to ask nicely.” And in one fluid move, you pulled the white shirt over your head and dropped it into his now empty hands, confirming his suspicions that you had nothing beneath. You pecked his parted lips and strutted away.

“Have a good day at work my love.” You cooed.

Loki looked at the shirt, and then over to where you had disappeared into the bedroom. He groaned, tossing the shirt onto the ground as he tugged his belt free. “I cannot keep being late like this.”

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[reidsism]

➳ A PROJECT — S.R

to nav 𓇙 to s.r mlist 𓇙 to records!reader mlist

spencer reid x archivist!fem!reader

dr reid visits basement three for the first time since joining the fbi. it’s… a little jarring, how empty it is. but the records room is quiet chaos and he thinks it’s a fine place to make a friend

wc: 1.1k

warnings: none!!!!!!! all fluff <3

a/n: WELCOME RECORDS!READERRR 🥳 this takes place second in the timeline so far (but i cant be assed to write in order lol)

You’re halfway through reorganizing three decades' worth of cold case files by updated indexing protocol when you hear the knock—soft, hesitant.

It’s still enough to scare the hell out of you, though.

Your yelp is embarrassingly loud, and you bump your head on the open drawer above you, the sound of metal echoing through the room, bouncing off shelves.

“Sorry, sorry!” comes his voice immediately, full of wide-eyed concern as he steps into the doorway. “I really didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”

You’re already scrambling out from behind a shelf, paperclips stuck to your cardigan and a pen in your hair somehow. You look wild and, frankly, you’re mortified.

“Dr. Reid!” you breathe, blinking at him like he’s a painting that suddenly walked off the wall. “Um, yes! I’m fine, it’s just—sorry, it’s a total disaster in here, I was just reorganizing by incident year instead of investigation date, and it sort of…” You wince, looking at the mess. “Escalated.”

Spencer looks around at the utter chaos. Drawers are open randomly, boxes filled with manila folders sit piled on the floor, sheets of paper and stacks of folders labeled in your handwriting scatter the concrete floor. It should be overwhelming, but honestly? He thinks it’s kind of amazing.

“You’re reorganizing the entire cold case section?” he asks, eyes wide.

You nod, nervously fidgeting with your sleeve. “I- It wasn’t in the new system,” you say quickly. “I just thought it might help, y’know… in the future. Make it easier to find them.” You shrug lamely.

Spencer just blinks at you. “...You did all of this by yourself?” He thinks there’s no way. The records room is massive; every single case file dating back to the FBI’s very inception is stored here. There’s no possible, conceivable way that the Bureau rests all of it on one person’s shoulders.

But you nod shyly, glancing away. “I like having a project,” you murmur, tucking your arms in close, crossing them over your chest.

And oh, the way you say that? Like you’re trying to shrink yourself down into nothing, trying to drown yourself in this paper sea of white and beige, like it’s a bad thing to be so smart and passionate and dedicated? He feels it in his chest. “That’s incredible,” he breathes out. He means it. “Really, it’s- it’s genius.”

Your eyes go fractionally wide, the barest hint of a smile twitching at your lips, startled and small. He smiles back. You blink at him like you don’t quite know what to do with the compliment, so you chew at your lip, quickly pivoting back to the task at hand. “Um—what were you looking for, Dr. Reid?”

And it actually takes him a second to remember. He mentioned needing a file, but he gave a fake reason; something to excuse himself from the bullpen and Hotch, and make his way to sublevel three. He could’ve just had it brought up, like always, but something was pulling him downstairs.

He feels… guilty, almost. He’s worked here for twelve years, and not once has he ever stepped foot on the floor beneath the parking garage.

It’s… a little jarring. How empty it is. The short hallway coming off the elevator is barren, all concrete and tile and a single sign reading “records archive”, as if it’s necessary when there’s only one door. The air in the hallway is immediately frigid, but the records room is warm. Too hot. Stuffy. He thinks it’s messing with his head because he can’t remember what he even came looking for. Him—with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.

You’d been stuck in his head since Hotch had requested your assistance on a case a week earlier. He’d heard of you, of course, through the typical office gossip. The goblin that hides in the records room, who talks to the walls and thinks the people in the files are her friends. The mole-person living in the basement, who hasn’t seen sunlight since the Bush administration, the FBI’s very own cryptid. Some people just didn’t believe in your existence at all, insisting that you were some myth, a fable of the archivist who died in the records room, relegated to “haunting it for eternity,” using you as a reason to head home at the end of the day.

He never believed any of it anyway, he knows office gossip is just about as reliable as a conversation with the dead. But it’s the kind of thing that’s stuck with him. Because you seemed… painfully normal, when you were in the round-table room. Nervous, sure. Awkward, very. But certainly not a goblin, or a cryptid, or a mole-person.

Now all he wants to do is watch you, observe the work you’re doing, nearly forty feet below the rest of the FBI. He’s curious about how it all works, how you manage to handle all of this, entirely on your own. He wants to ask what your favourite case is, which ones broke your heart, which one you reread when you can’t sleep. He wonders if you’ve read his reports.

He swallows roughly. “I think I forgot,” he mutters, awkwardly adjusting the strap of his messenger bag.

You blink at him. “You… forgot the case you needed?” Your brows pinch in confusion, and oh. Spencer’s gone. He can feel it.

“I… get distracted easily,” he offers, and it’s almost smooth. Not quite. The lie stings at his tongue and he winces.

But you? You laugh. And it’s soft. It’s the first time he’s ever heard it, and oh, he already wants to hear it again. Endlessly.

He thinks it might be his new favourite sound.

Spencer clears his throat before he can spiral too far to get himself out. “I should, um,” he thumbs over his shoulder. “I should get back.”

You nod, gnawing on your lip. “For sure, uh,” you cough. “I’ll be here if you manage to remember that file you needed.”

He grins, pursing his lips together tightly before backing out of the room. He slams his palm on the elevator button and takes a breath.

You’re weird. He thinks he likes you.

***

You’re standing alone again, surrounded by a tornado of chaos. You blink at the now-empty space Dr. Reid was standing in.

You exhale shakily before allowing yourself a small smile, turning to the shelving unit again.

He’s weird. You think you like him.

[contempenitent]

The new knight, Sin, buries his apparent surprise beneath a veneer of composure. His bow acts like an extension of his hands, and only a blink betrays his disappointment in his off-center shot. Mauvier should have known to time his greeting better. Those aforementioned social graces are hard-earned.

Still, something in Mauvier teeters toward doing things that would otherwise intimidate him. The upcoming dance is on the forefront of his mind; perhaps he could ask the Captain for a mapped layout of Menja, plan the perimeter of his watch route in advance...

"Apologies," Mauvier says, after a too-long beat of silence. "I didn't mean to catch you off guard." He turns his head toward Sin's target, observing where his previous arrows have landed. "You're a great shot. I shall be standing watch at the Ethereal Ball; shall I expect to see you there?"

(His voice already feels strained. He doesn't normally speak at length like this, particularly to those he doesn't know, but...he's still not used to having contemporaries, either. Equals. No one to see him as friend or foe, just...a man doing his job.)

i like to engage in the ancient and noble art of searching for 'cool bows' on Google Images and just, like, really wallow in that shit

What IS the perfect birthday gift, and do YOU have yours ready?

[keirareidss]

suggestive comments and coffee stains -s.r

♡ summary: you're obsessed with teasing your adorable, easily-flustered co-worker pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, suggestive language, case details, wc: 2.7k based on this request

Another serial killer has brought the BAU to Nebraska for their expertise. You were new to the team, but skilled nonetheless. Aaron Hotchner had you transferred from the organized crime division a few weeks ago and this was your second case with your new teammates.

You'd already taken a liking to Garcia and you bonded with Agent Prentiss pretty quickly. The person who intrigued you the most, though, was Agent Reid. He was a genius, an IQ of 187 and he could read 20,000 words a minute. He also had the most adorable blush on his face whenever you gave him a compliment, which you made sure to do often.

Him and his sweater vest stole your heart from the moment you saw him. He'd given you that little tight-lipped smile and a wave when you joined the team and made you a coffee the next day.

Looks like pretty boy has a crush. You heard Morgan teasing him in the kitchen later.

No. I'm just... welcoming her. You hoped that wasn't true. To be honest, you were developing a little crush on the young man. He was endearing with his little rambles and his glasses.

The unsub was kidnapping and torturing young men, signs of sexual assault found when their bodies were dumped. You arrived in Nebraska, heading to the police station to set up. Hotch sent Morgan and Prentiss to the last dump sites, JJ to talk to the press, and he went with Rossi to the morgue. You and Spencer stayed behind to make the geographical profile.

"So what do you like to do in your free time?" You asked, sitting at the conference table, your feet kicked up on it, a file in your lap. Spencer was up at the board pushing pins into the map.

"What?" He looked over his shoulder, brows furrowed at your sudden questioning.

"Like, do you have any hobbies?"

"Oh. I- I don't know. Sometimes I play chess in the park."

"Oh, fun. You should teach me how."

"You don't know how to play chess?" He turned around fully now, tilting his head.

"No, but I know a few chess jokes."

"Really? Tell me one."

"Why does MC Hammer only play blindfold chess?"

"Why?"

"He won't let anyone touch his pieces." You respond, grinning in anticipation for his laughter but it didn't come. Only a furrow of his eyebrows once again.

"What does blindfold chess have to do with touching pieces?" You smile drops slightly at having to explain the joke.

"Well you call out the coordinates, not play with actual pieces. There's no board in blindfold chess."

"If there's no board why is there a blindfold?" You giggled at him.

"You're thinking way too far into this." He frowns, turning back to the map. You stood up, striding over to him. "What about this one?" He looked over at you and leaned closer to him. "I'll play with your pawn all night until it turns into the knight I'm looking for." His face goes red and he looks away.

"I- I think I liked the other one better." He stammered, avoiding eye contact. You headed back to your seat as Spencer kept his back fully to you, hiding his blush.

Caffeine was needed if you were going to get through this, this job truly worsened your coffee addiction, so you were going out on a coffee run, bringing Spencer with you. For help carrying the cups, of course.

You headed to a cafe nearby, wanting better quality coffee than the stale police precinct stuff. It was early enough in the case that you weren't in your groove yet. You didn't have many leads so all you could do was wait for something big to happen. You know when you're cutting something and the scissors just start gliding cleanly? That's the feeling you were anticipating. The smooth glide of the denouement.

Spencer walked alongside you, his hands moving animatedly in the air as he explained growing conditions, processing methods, roasting styles, and whatever came to mind about coffee beans. You'd prompted the ramble, asking him purposefully, 'why does coffee taste different in different places?'

The bell above you dinged as you opened the door to the cafe, Spencer pausing his rant so you could order your long list of requests from the team. He continued talking as you waited for the drinks, standing against the wall. You watched him with a small smile, his excitement in his knowledge clear from his face and demeanor.

Eventually, his rant came to an end and he went silent with an awkward little, 'so... yeah'. He'd somehow made his way from coffee beans to frog habitats and you didn't even remember your initial question.

"You really know a lot." You said in awe. He ran a hand through his hair, looking down with a blush.

"Yeah, I guess." Your name is called and you go to grab the drink holder, Spencer picking up the other two drinks. He follows you to the small counter on the other side of the cafe where you set down the drinks to grab straws. You turned to grab the two drinks from Spencer, not realizing how close to you he was. You walked right into his hand as he was holding it out to you, the drink spilling all over your button up (thank god it was an iced coffee).

Spencer's eyes widened comically and he quickly grabbed a handful of napkins rubbing at your shirt.

"I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, that- I didn't mean to- I was just-"

"Spencer, it's alright." You chuckled, looking down at his hand. If there wasn't a napkin in his hand he would be basically pawing at your breasts. You could feel the coffee staining your shirt, soaking through to your skin as something else was soaking your panties between your legs.

"I'm so sorry." He repeated, wincing when the stain didn't come out. "I- um, you can take my jacket." He stammered, pulling his blazer off.

"It's okay Spencer. You know," You step closer, tilting your head back to look in his eyes. "I would have been wet no matter what, seeing you." You would think he was a malfunctioned robot the way he froze, mouth agape, speechless. You raised your eyebrows, a teasing grin on your face.

"I- I don't-" Okay, he really was malfunctioning. You Took the blazer from him, putting it on before cleaning up the rest of the coffee spill. You left him standing there wide-eyed, heading to the counter to re-order JJ's drink. He'd apparently gathered himself by the time you got back to him, holding one of the drinks and waiting for you to give him the other one.

He was quiet on the walk back, his face still bright red to the tips of his ears. What you didn't realize was that his mind was racing. Sure, he's been flirted with before, but not from someone he liked to call a friend. He couldn't tell if you were being serious. Were you actually interested in him or did you just want a quick fuck? He didn't know which he preferred.

On one hand, he was sure he wasn't in love with you. It was just a little crush. It happens. On the other hand, he didn't know if he'd be able to have a one night stand with you and not catch feelings. He could see it happening pretty clearly, you would fuck him in a hotel room or something, and he'd be lusting after you for the rest of his long, miserable career. God, why did you have to say that to him?

"Are you okay? You've been acting weird." You confronted Spencer a few days into the case. It was looking like it was going to be a long one.

"I'm not acting weird." He instantly defended. You raised your eyebrows at him. He was most definitely acting weird. The past few days he'd been sort of... avoiding you. When you sat next to him in the conference room, your knee brushing his, he'd find some reason to get up. He needed the bathroom or he wanted to refill his already filled coffee cup or some other bullshit excuse.

You were starting to suspect he was upset with you. Had you crossed a line with your comment? Did you make him uncomfortable?

"Yes you are. Look, I'm sorry I said that in the cafe the other day, I was just-"

"It's not about that." He cut you off quickly, a rosy blush already rising on his cheeks. You'd cornered him in the precinct kitchenette, making sure no one was around when you started interrogating.

"What is it then?"

"It's just... I mean... were you serious?"

"What?"

"Like... did you mean it?"

"When I said you made me wet?" He instantly went red, his eyes flickering to find anything else he could look at. "Yeah. I meant it." You stepped closer, crowing him against the counter. "Why? Does that turn you on?" His breaths were coming in quicker now as he stared down at you. Someone cleared their throat behind you and you stepped back, turning to find one of the cops awkwardly going to the coffee machine.

You give Spencer one last sultry glance before heading back to the conference room. Spencer felt his face heat as the officer's eyes bore into him. He quickly left the kitchenette, following you back to the conference room.

The AC had stopped working in your hotel room. Unfortunate, seeing as that was supposed to be where you get rest after working an intense and stressful case, and if you couldn't do that. how were you supposed to get any work done on said case?

You decided to head across the hall, knocking on your coworkers door softly, in case he was asleep. You didn't want to deprive someone else of rest.

"Hey, what's up?" Spencer answered the door, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"The AC in my room is broken, can I stay with you?" Spencer felt his heart speed up at the thought of what that could mean.

"I- there's only one bed. Doesn't JJ or Emily have room?"

"Emily snores and I think JJ had phone sex with her husband. It's a few nights, Spence, please?" He hesitated before sighing, stepping aside to let you enter his room. You grin, heading past him to set your go bag on the desk in the room. He hadn't even seen you holding it when he answered the door, but that might have been because his mind was preoccupied with picturing everything that could happen with the two of you in one bed.

"Mind if I shower?"

"Go ahead." Spencer said, his voice rough. Great, now he was picturing you in the shower. He sits on the bed, poring back over the files while he listened to the sounds of water running in the bathroom. If he strained his ears enough, he could hear the faint sound of you humming softly.

Soon, the water turned off and he could hear your humming more clearly. The door opened and you walked out in your pajamas, hair dripping down your back. You went back to your go bag, putting your work clothes inside. Spencer's eyes caught the pair of sleek black of panties you slipped back into the bag. He quickly averted his eyes when you turned back around, heading for the bed with your hairbrush.

"What are you looking at?" You asked brightly, peering at his files.

"Just the missing persons reports for all the victims. Something doesn't seem right." He mumbles.

"Oh?" Now you're intrigued. You shuffled across the bed leaning against his side to look closer at the files. He glanced at you, feeling the heat of your body through your shirt. Around the neckline and your shoulders were damp from the ends of your hair. "What's not right about them?"

"Just... I don't know, the way they were reported. It seemed so... formal. And they're all so similar."

"Hmm." You hummed, letting your head drop to his shoulder. "How long have you been looking at these?"

"I dunno. A few hours." You sighed, reaching out to clean up all the files. "Wha- no, it's-" He immediately protested.

"Spencer, you need a break. You've been looking at these for too long." You said, gathering them all and reaching across him to put them on his nightstand.

"I'm fine." He said weakly, staring at you, nearly bent over his lap. You sit back, on your knees next to him.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Y-yeah. Shoot."

Do you... do you ever think about me?" You looked at him through your eyelashes and he shifted on the bed.

"Yeah, I guess."

"No, I mean," You shuffled closer, setting a hand on his thigh, dangerously close to where his cock was hardening in his pajama pants. "Do you think about me like this?" Your voice gave off the illusion of innocence. He stared up at you, eyes going wide as he blushed.

"I..."

"Have you ever thought about me touching you?" You asked as your hand trailed further up, palming his cock. He let out a small moan, his hips jerking a bit.

"Yes." He breathed. You grinned, your hand slipping past the barrier of fabric, under his boxer briefs to grasp his cock in your palm. His breath hitched as you began stroking. "Wha- what are you doing?"

"I think about you too. You're so-" You cut yourself off, kissing him as if you'd been holding yourself back and couldn't help it anymore. "adorable, I can't fucking help myself. Every time you wear one of those-" You press another bruising kiss to his lips. "fucking sweater vests, I just wanna-" Another kiss. "rip it off you." He whimpered against your lips.

"Are you being serious?" He asks, pulling away to look into your eyes. He couldn't believe someone like you was actually into him like that.

"Spencer, I'm dead serious." You said, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock, catching the precum that dribbled from the top and spreading it down his length. You pulled his pants down enough to free him from his confines, slowly jerking him off.

You moved your kisses to his neck, the skin feeling warm under your lips. He breathed out shakily, a moan slipping past his mouth. You pulled away from him, shuffling further down the bed and bending down until your lips meet the tip of his cock.

He gasps as you take him into your mouth, taking as much as you can before pulling back up. You take a deep breath through your nose, sinking down again, taking more of him until he hits the back of your throat.

Your head bobs up and down as he whimpers, trembling underneath you. His hand finds your hair, grasping tightly, making you moan, the vibrations on his cock making him jerk.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm close." He whines, his head falling back. His hips jerk up and you move your hands up, holding him down against the bed. You swirl your tongue around the head, and Spencer lets out a high pitched moan. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!" Seconds later hot ropes of cum hit the back of your throat. You swallow it down greedily, hollowing out your cheeks as you drain every last drop.

You pull off his length, a trail of spit following as you lift your head to grin at him. His eyes are closed, strands of hair falling over his forehead. You brush it back, him blinking up at you blearily.

"You're... you're so..." He trails off, staring up at you with wide heart eyes. You chuckled, your hand trailing his jaw.

"So what?"

"Perfect. I can't believe you like me." He breathes and you laugh incredulously.

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Cause you're you. You're... flawless."

"So are you." He scoffs, shaking his head and your eyes widen. "You are! Do you need me to show you?" You asked, your hands trailing up his thighs, making him shudder.

"I don't..." You chuckled as his breath hitches. You lean down, pressing your lips to his.

"Ready for round two?"

Taglist: @superbeaglewitch, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @dramioneforevertilltheend. @cynbx, @diminombre, @tinythebunni

[reiding-writing]

Spencer who learned like a whole sss language or something niche like knitting, so he can teach it to reader cause he heard her talking about how hard it is to find a good teacher???

acts of service [ s.r ]

Summary:

Hobbies are supposed to be relaxing. So when Spencer sees you dwindle into frustration at your newfound hobby of embroidery, he takes it upon himself to teach you better than any low quality youtube tutorial would.

WARNINGS: unserious threat of self-induced harm, lots of mentions of needles and piercing things, horrible description of how to do a chain stitch 😭

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 2.0k

masterlist!!

a/n: i genuinely spent about 15 minutes trying to figure out how to do a goddamn chain stitch because lo and behold, the internet sucks when it comes to tutorials 😭

Spencer watches from across his desk as you re-attempt a stitch in your embroidery hoop for the sixth time before giving up and throwing the hoop down on your desk with a huff and leaving to get a cup of coffee, muttering something under your breath about “Stupid stitches,”

He’d been watching you try in vain to learn to embroider for almost three weeks, and it was getting to the point where he was frustrated for you.

You’d picked it up as a way to relieve your stress whilst working, and instead you’ve manged to frustrate yourself to the point where you’re literally having to remove yourself from your desk to calm yourself down.

“Are you alright?” Spencer raises his eyebrow at you as you return to your desk with a cup of coffee cupped in your hands, and you sigh as you take a seat.

“I’m two minutes away from sticking my embroidery needle in my eye so I don’t have to look at this monstrosity anymore-” You place your mug down on your desk, holding the embroidery hoop to your face to judge your own creation.

“Please don’t,” Spencer’s tone carries genuine care for your well being, but its also followed by a laugh on the back end which indicates he knows you’re not serious.

“Why do I do this to myself?” You ask the question to no one in particular as you lean your head over the back of your chair, swivelling it back and forth with your foot as a pivot and leaving your hand to fall into your lap.

“Studies have shown that having hobbies, particularly creative ones, can decrease the amount of cortisol produced in our bodies over time, leading to an overall more relaxed state of being,” Spencer mirrors the way you turn in your chair as he watches you, answering your rhetorical question as if it were completely serious.

“I can tell you right now that I am the exact opposite of relaxed,” You exhale through your nose, joined by a shake of your head as you straighten your posture once more. “I think its time I cut my losses and give up,”

“No you should keep up with it, it’ll be much easier once you’ve got the hang of things,” He tilted his head slightly at you as he voiced his encouragement.

“Easy for you to say Mr. ‘I have an 187 IQ and an eidetic memory’,” You roll your eyes at him, although your expression betrays the fact that you’re not truly antagonistic towards his intelligence. “Half of the tutorials i’m watching don’t even actually show how to do anything,”

Spencer chuckles as your eyes examine the three straight lines of red stitching in the fabric like you were trying to incinerate them with your mind before discarding the hoop to the corner of your desk to actually get some work done.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It’s two weeks before the topic of embroidery comes up again, you sat cross-legged and hunched over in your jet seat on the way back from a case in Montana, eyes boring into the fabric as you tried to create a shape vaguely resembling a circle.

“You shouldn’t hunch over like that you know,” Spencer sat down in the seat next to you with a yawn, leaning back against the padding of the leather chair with his head tilted in your direction. “It’ll tighten the muscles in your neck and give you a tension headache,”

You huff at his chastising of your posture considering his own but straighten your back nonetheless, holding your embroidery hoop at eye-level as you carefully puncture the fabric.

He’s glad to see that you haven’t given up on embroidery yet. Partly because it’s good for you to have a hobby that had zero relation to your job and partly because it meant that his 18 hours of research over the last ten days hadn’t been in vain.

“If you’re going in a circle it’s better to use a chain stitch,”

Your eyes flicker upwards at Spencer’s suggestion, wonky thread oval forgotten about as you narrow your eyes at him slightly in an accusatory fashion. “How do you know that?”

“I uh-” Spencer blinked a few times, eyes flickering across the jet’s cabin as he tried to find a reasonable explanation for his sudden knowledge in embroidery that wasn’t because he wanted to be able to teach it to you. “I know a lot of things,”

His intelligence was usually a valid excuse for whatever niche bit of information would come out of his mouth, but you knew for a fact that he had no prior knowledge on how to embroider something. He might have known the history of it at a stretch, but how to physically embroider something? Absolutely not.

If he had he would have told you weeks ago. So this was definitely something new.

“Mhmm, apparently so,” You nod with clear suspicion riddling your expression, but you weren’t about the turn away his help just because you were suspicious of the origins of his newfound expertise in embroidery. “Alright genius, show me then,”

You hold out the hoop in his direction and he takes it from you with an awkwardly endearing smile, un-stitching your botched attempt at a circle and turning the hoop at an angle so that you could see what he was doing.

It was only six stitches, but the way he passed the needle through the fabric was effortless, and it left a perfectly symmetrical blue circle in it’s wake.

“Chain stitching is much easier to curve than straight stitching due to the nature of how the needle passes through the fabric,”

If you weren’t so beholden to his ability to be good at absolutely everything he does you’re sure you’d be a little jealous. Or maybe it was the way his eyes glistened as he looked at you. No. It definitely wasn’t that. You were just grateful he was willing to help you, that’s all.

“Show me how to do it then if it’s so easy,” You shift yourself towards the leather arm that’s separating the two of you, leaning your elbows on it to watch him more closely as your eyes locked on the way the pads of his fingers held the needle.

“Here,” He held it out towards you, blunt side up, as an indication for you to take it. “I’ll walk you through it,”

You take the needle from him with a raised eyebrow, one that only continued to rise as he passed you back your embroidery hoop as well and leaned towards to to angle the fabric at a 45 degree angle towards himself so that he could see what you were doing.

“Alright, so first you want to pierce the needle through the back of the fabric towards you and pull all of the thread through,” You follow his instructions as he speaks, nodding once you’ve garnered yourself a big loop of thread that’s connected under the fabric at one end and your needle at the other.

“Alright?”

“Alright, now go back through that same hole from the top, and bring the needle back up through the fabric about a centimetre downwards, only half pulling the needle through,” You furrow your eyebrow slightly but try to follow him, although he stops you as you attempt to pull the needle all the way through with his hand on top of yours.

“Don’t pull it all the way back through,” He adjusts his body to face a similar direction to yours. “Here, let me help,”

His hands brush the tops of yours as one comes to assist you in holding up the hoop of fabric and the other guides your fingers in holding the needle. His skin is frigidly cold against your own, although whether that’s just because you run hotter than him or the fact that he’s so close to you you feel like you’re internally harbouring volcano you’re unsure.

With his hand guiding your own, you reinsert your needle back through the original hole you’d made from the top down and pierce it upwards through the fabric a little further across, leaving both the tip and the end of the needle above the fabric with the middle underneath.

“Good yeah, now this is the complicated bit, you need to get the rest of your thread,” He loops his ring finger around the excess thread, and makes an effort to move his fingers as slowly as possible so that you can see exactly what he’s doing. “and wrap the start of it underneath the tip of your needle,”

He demonstrates his words as he speaks, pulling the beginning of the loop of thread tight underneath the tip of the needle before slowly pushing the needle all the way through the fabric until it’s free once more, and there’s a small looped stitch in the fabric.

“And then to create your next stitch you do the same steps, but start inside of the first loop,” He again demonstrates his words as he uses your hands to make a second stitch that, like the name suggests’ creates a two-stitch chain from where the stitches are connected.

“See, really simple, just a little convoluted in terms of instructions,” His eyes turn away from the fabric and back towards yours once he’s finished his explanation, although yours remain on your needle. “Think you can do it on your own?”

It takes you a second to come back to your senses, and you blink up at him blankly for a moment before nodding, a soft “yeah I think so…” echoing from your throat.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were to distracted by the way his hands moved against yours to listen to a single thing he said.

“Let me know if you need any more help okay?” He gave you that awkwardly endearing smile that reached his eyes and made you want to scream into your hands at the prospect of being so perfect.

You return it with a half-stunted nod as you desperately turn your eyes downwards to your fabric again, unable to look at him any longer without flushing red light a traffic light. “Yeah thanks-”

“I’ll teach you how to do a running whipped stitch next, it uses two different colours of thread,”

Whipped is right-

Spencer’s tone held all the enthusiasm of a child who’d just learned that you could mix multiple colours to create a new one, and it easily rubs off on you as you resign yourself to actually listening to what he’s trying to teach you instead of just fawning over how it feels when he touches you.

“Can you- show me how to do a chain stitch one more time?”

“Of course!”

The minute his hands touch yours again you know you’re done for.

[lollipop-bribes]

Something in Libra's explanation feels very familiar, while other parts feel out of Gaius' reach. No matter how bleak things got during the war, everyone talked tirelessly about fighting for the people they loved. Returning home to their spouses, their children, their friends.

Libra has always had people who need him, for better or worse. There are orphans in every corner of the world, and Libra has enough patience and compassion for every last Naga-damned one of them. But Gaius...

When the dust settled, he was just Gaius. Just the pickpocket, the sugar guy. No one would ever really need him. He was never gonna rise above that in Ylisse, and honestly, why even bother trying?

He sits long and hard with the question. He decides his doll is done; he sets it meekly by the others. It has arms and legs and hair, but no face.

"The part about being...unhindered by your reputation," Gaius says slowly, gaze flitting about as he looks for something else to busy his hands. "That hits home, I suppose. I'm kinda hoping everybody'll forget about me after a little while."

a fish hook. an open eye.

[lowlylux]

Marauders Microfics:

Just a list of microfics based on various Tumblr prompts, dated and in order

6/25/25 | Broom - Jegulus - WC 187

6/25/25 | Legend - Wolfstar - WC 434

6/26/25 | Blossom - Jegulus - WC 245

6/26/25 | Dragon - Wolfstar - WC 350

[underburningstars]

blood in coffee 14

(Part 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27,28,29,30,31)

for @jegulus-microfic prompt forest, wc 187

Regulus is curled over a book in his bed when he hears his front door open. Then immediately, he’s hit with the heady scent of James. His head snaps up and he pushes the book away. He scrambles to get up and almost runs to James. 

“What are you–” But James doesn’t let him finish. He pulls Regulus in an aggressive kiss after muttering an angry ‘shut up’. 

The kiss almost feels like a fight. Regulus could easily overpower James but instead, he melts against the drag of James’ lips and the press of his fingers. 

James’ kisses trail down to his jaw to his neck, where he nuzzles and sighs, “You smell good. It’s annoying.”

Regulus runs his fingers through James’ hair. God help him, he has missed James so much. “Why is it annoying?”

“I’m supposed to be angry with you,” James mumbles against the skin of his neck. “I can’t do that when you smell like the forest after rainfall.”

They are comfortably silent in each other’s embrace before Regulus breaks it. “I’m sorry,” He whispers into James’ hair. 

“Don’t do it again.”

“Promise.”

[encantresse]

"i get that. it's normal to want to know more about the person you care about, though you have to consider that not everyone's proud of their reality."

god intentions aside, she figures it might be challenging for one perched so high above to fathom the humbling experience of bowing one's head under the burden of necessity.

"i can see where you're coming from...but i understand where lapis is coming from, too." dorothea cants her head, gaze softening as she mulls over the thought. "you’ll need to meet each other halfway. be patient and allow her to approach you when she's ready. it might feel like a lack of trust right now, but it’s more likely related to her own struggles than to you."

solemnity shatters with a sympathetic smile, brimming with a hint of teasing delight.

"between us? i think she really likes you. she has ever since i met her, and i doubt that's changed now. you've done all the right things — now, you'll have to put your trust in lapis. give her some time to bloom, yeah? just like you would a flower."

"I am." That was never even a question, and so Alcryst answers without hesitation. "But... I..."

If only he could have that sort of unshakeable confidence in himself as well. Alcryst frowns, struggling to figure out how to put these thoughts into words. "Um, I just wish I knew more. She's never really let me into what her 'reality' is. And whatever I do find out about her, she's upset that I know... I'm not blind to the fact that she keeps secrets from me. But I wish she trusted me enough to let me help her. I can only hope she'll tell me in her own time, but until then I fear I'll always fall short."

...Alcryst bows apologetically. "S-Sorry. Lapis is the one in trouble, and here I am only talking about myself"

[blackbird-brewster]

26,19,13,2

Thank you for playing! [Send Fanfic Author Asks]

2. What's your shortest fic? What's your longest?

Shortest fic: Things You Said Through Your Teeth (WC: 277) Longest individual fic: Fooled Around (and Fell in Love) - Part 3 (WC: 218,729) FUN FACT: Prior to 2022 longest fic was a co-authored fic - Caged (WC: 39,140). In the 2.5 years I've been back writing, I have now written NINE fics longer than that. Soon, Caged won't even be in the top ten!!

13. How many works have you published?

I currently have 187 works to my name on AO3. But, there are about 20+ that I orphaned (or deleted) over the years for various reasons. So, I estimate I've published about 210/ish?!

19. [Answered Here]

26. Do you have use a beta reader before publishing?

Nope 🤷‍♂️ I read/edit my own works before posting, but I've never had a Beta reader.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Get a Grip｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x hybrid!reader

Simon finds your calm down button when fucking you

Warnings: smut, tail pulling, degradation (reader called a dog), as always reader is plus size, hybrid!reader WC: 540 Minors DNI

Library: @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Stop fecking moving.” A whine sounded from beneath Simon’s bulk, muffled by the pillow that you had buried your face in. Despite the biting order, your hips continued to thrash around, your legs kicking back as you desperately tried to escape the stretch of his cock inside of you.

“Can’t.” You pressed your body to the flimsy mattress as if it could lessen the blow of each thrust. Just above the sloppy sounds of his skin plapping against yours and the wetness that steadily leaks from your pussy, there’s the sound of tearing fabric that immediately makes Simon growl. A firm hand is wrapped around the back of your neck, his fingers pinching your airway as he yanks you backwards, forcing your long canines from his singular pillow, leaving behind a perfect imprint of your teeth on the ancient fluff.

“Damn dog.” He snarls into your sensitive ear. “Can’t ever keep your feckin teeth to yourself can you?” Your response was more of a whimper than any sort of words, spurring him on even more. He shoved your face back into the ruined pillow with a harsh punch to your cervix, knocking any remaining air from your lungs. “Keep that damn mouth shut.”

You give a rumbling growl back, your hips canting to the right as you gave one more feeble kick, a pathetic attempt to shake the fuzz of insurmountable pleasure from your brain, causing your tail, now matted with sweat and your wetness, to thwack against his abs. That was Simon’s last straw.

“Fucking brat.” With the same hand that had previously coiled around your neck, he grabbed the base of your tail and pulled you back into his hips, forcing you to take all of his cock. Your body went completely limp, finally succumbing to his rule. He raised an eyebrow, testing this newfound discovery with a cruel thrust downwards into your g-spot that would’ve normally had you howling but now, you only gave a delicate moan, your nose rubbing his pillow like a kitten.

You were docile and Simon was fucked if he didn’t absolutely abuse this off switch he found. 

“That’s all you feckin needed? Someone to grab this tail to make you all quite like you should be? Should’ve feckin known, you’re always throwing it in my face, waggin it like a puppy.” You clenched around him, another thick drop of your combined messes dripping onto his hairy thighs. Moans spilled from your lips just the same, adding to the perverted soundtrack of his bunk.

“Si-“ Your voice crackled like you had forgotten how to speak. Behind your head, Simon grinned and squeezed your tail even tighter, stealing those last words from you.

“Ah ah ah. Dogs don’t talk. They just do what they’re told.” You trembled beneath him, your soft body shaking as he shoved you closer and closer to breaking. “And you’re finally being my good girl aren’t you pup? Takin what I give you like you’re supposed to.” He pulled you back against him as he thrust forwards, your ass jiggling violently with the force.

“And good pups get to cum.” The rough calluses of his fingers against your clit make you sing and Simon grin wickedly. “Be my good pup.”

MW Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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[postsofbabel]

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[ofcourtfables]

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒏𝒐 𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍. 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒏𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏. welcome PLUTO & NEWT, you have been accepted into ofcourtfables. please have your account in within the next 24 hours or you risk your roles and face claims. also take a moment to look over our checklist.

‘ kylie verzosa, cis woman, she and her, 27 / 270 , high fae ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems CASSIOPEIA DRAGOMIR has finally made it to the capital, the LADY from THE SUMMER COURT is said to be SILVER TONGUED and is said to describe themselves with A VEIL OF FLOWERS DRESSED INTO A SINGULAR BRAID OF GOLDEN HAIR, THE SMILE OF A NYMPH BLURRED AT THE EDGES, THE TOUCH OF MIDAS TURNING ALL SHE TOUCHES INTO PETALS, HOW ONE GIRL BECOMES A GOD and with all of this in mind their GLUTTONOUS nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time. ; written by pluto

‘ ji hye won, cis woman, she and her, 26 / 187 , cauldron made fae ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems KI ' MIKA ' MI-CHA has finally made it to the capital, the CITIZEN from THE NIGHT COURT is said to be AMBITIOUS and is said to describe themselves with INTRICATE LINES THAT DANCE UPON THE SKIN OF RING FINGER : A BARGAIN FOR FAMILY IS STRUCK / A BARGAIN FOR FREEDOM IS STRUCK, DARK DRESS SO LIGHT IT GLIDES ON THE CURTAIN OF THE GALAXY, SOFTENED TOUCH OF A DAMSEL TURNS VIOLENT AT THE SLIGHTEST LOVE, MANGLED BODY OF A SOUL ATTACHED TO ANOTHER UNWILLING and with all of this in mind their VENGEFUL nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time. ; written by pluto,

‘ lee jieun, cisgender woman, she/her, 270 / 27 , high fae ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems AREUM ASHWAY has finally made it to the capital, the LADY from THE AUTUMN COURT is said to be TACTFUL and is said to describe themselves with EYES THAT ONCE HELD FIRE, NOW HOLD ONLY EMBERS, A SOFT SMILE AND EMPTY PROMISES, GRACEFUL GESTURES THAT ONCE SCORCHED THE AIR WITH JOY - NOW  HOLLOW,  and with all of this in mind their INDIFFERENT nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time. ; *aeri's sibling wc ; written by newt

[pazaryerigundem]

Edirne Keşan'da ulaşıma zam... Başkan Özcan'a borçlar için kredi ve devir yetkisi!

https://pazaryerigundem.com/haber/175836/edirne-kesanda-ulasima-zam-baskan-ozcana-borclar-icin-kredi-ve-devir-yetkisi/

Edirne Keşan'da ulaşıma zam... Başkan Özcan'a borçlar için kredi ve devir yetkisi!

Keşan Belediye Meclisi’nde şehiriçi ulaşımda minibüsçülerden gelen talepler kapsamında öğrenciye zam yapılmazken, sivil yolcu ücretleri zamlandı. Meclis ayrıca, vergi borçları dolayısısıyla belediyenin bazı mülklerini Hazine’ye devretme kararı alırken, 36 ay vadeli 15 milyon lira kredi için de Belediye Başkanı Mehmet Özcan’a yetki verdi.

Erdoğan DEMİR / EDİRNE (İGFA) –Edirne’nin Keşan ilçesinde Belediye Meclisi, Belediye Başkanı Op. Dr. Mehmet Özcan başkanlığında Haziran ayına ilişkin olağan toplantısını gerçekleştirdi. 

  Toplantıda vergi borçları dolayısıyla belediyenin bazı mülklerinin Hazine’ye takyidatsız olarak tescil edilmesi yetkisi Belediye Başkanı Mehmet Özcan’a verildi. Başkan Özcan’a aayrıca birikmiş borçların ödenmesinde kullanılmak üzere; 36 ay vadeli 15 milyon TL kredi kullanılmı, kullanılacak olan söz konusu kredi için İller Bankası’ndan ana para ile hesaplanacak faiz tutarı kadar teminat mektubu alınması amacıyla da yetki verilmesi kararlaştırıldı.

ULAŞIMDA ÖĞRENCİYE ZAM YOK

Keşan Meclisi, toplu ulaşıma yönelik de zam kararı aldı. Minibüslerde öğrenciye zam yapılmazken, sivil yolcu ücreti S.S. 25 Nolu Keşan Şehirici Minibüs Motorlu Taşıyıcılar Kooperatif’nin talebine göre 20 TL oldu.  S.S. 129 Nolu Paşayiğit Minibüs Motorlu Taşıyıcılar Kooperatifi’nde de 16 TL olan öğrenci ücretine zam yapılmazken, sivil yolcu ücreti 30 TL oldu. S.S. 99 Nolu Öz İzzetiye Minibüs Motorlu Taşıyıcılar Kooperatifi’nde sivil yolcu ücreti 20 TL olması kararlaştırıldı.  Her üç kooperatif için de yıl sonuna kadar başkaca bir artışın yapılmayacağı da belirtildi. 

O ALANDA PARKLANMALAR BELLİ OLDU

Ayrıca Mayıs ayı meclis toplantısında Keşan Belediyesi Çok Amaçlı Pazaryeri Kompleksi alanının halk pazarının kurulduğu gün hariç olmak üzere ücretli parkomat alanı olarak belirlenirken, ücret tarifesi Haziran ayı meclisinde görüşüldü. Plan ve Bütçe Komisyonu’ndan gelen rapora göre söz konusu alanda 0-30 dakika ücretsiz olacak parklanmalar, 1-2 saat 30 TL, 2-4 saat 35 TL, 4-6 saat 40 TL, 6-8 saat 45 TL ve günlük 50 TL ve işyerlerine mal getiren firmalara 0-1 saat ücretsiz olması kararlaştırıldı.

Mecliste ayrıca Keşan Kaymakamlığı ile 4 Ağustos 2023 tarihinde yapılan protokol ile10 yıllığına kiralanan Mecidiye Köyü, Harmantepe Mevkiinde bulunan mülkiyeti Hazine’ye ait taşınmazın 2 bin 187 metrekarelik kısmına 60 adet şezlong, 3’er m2’lik 10 adet WC, 3’er m2’lik 10 adet giyinme kabini, 3’er m2’lik 10 adet duş kabini ve 6’şar m2’lik 5 adet büfe alanının; 3 Ağustos 2033 tarihine kadar kiralama ihalesine çıkartılması da oybirliği ile kabul edildi.

BU Haber İGF HABER AJANSI tarafından servis edilmiştir.