#i have still been consistently drawing her

[imaginative-joy]

After I saw Inside Out 2 (and cried profusely), I started doing sketches of Taylor Swift eras as if they were the emotions. I thought about each era and which emotion I thought it best represented, then just started sketching. It was a fun little personal project, and I challenged myself to really push my poses! I also wanted each era and emotion to match as best as possible (at least in my mind) and didn't want to just assign each era to its corresponding colored emotion (i.e. Debut is characterized as green, but I didn't think Debut matched with Disgust).

I had so much fun drawing these that I turned them into a sticker sheet!

Thoughts I had when picking out the emotions for each era under cut:

Debut/Embarrassment (not pictured because tumblr doesn’t allow that many images): Okay, I don’t think ANY era truly embodies Embarrassment, so I was going for more Shy with her. She’s the first one and she’s not sure how it’ll go! Also, I’m Inside Out 2, Embarrassment is really the only “new” emotion who is consistently connected with Riley’s core beliefs. He recognizes when Anxiety, Ennui, and Envy are making Riley do things out of character. I feel like that’s Debut: She’s a little quiet, but she truly understands the core of Taylor Swift.

Fearless/Joy: C’mon, this album radiates joy and happiness! She’s confident and having fun!

Speak Now/Fear: It’s gotta be nerve-wracking to speak up at a wedding, and also be “Haunted” by past relationships. But even though she may be scared, she still fights for herself! This was also Taylor’s first album where she wrote every single song, and I imagine that must’ve been a little scary!

Red/Nostalgia: I see this album as looking back on the past with some bittersweet feelings, especially with “All Too Well,” “Red,” “The Last Time,” and others.

1989/Envy: This is the “I Want!” album. Songs like “Welcome to New York,” “I Wish You Would,” and “Out of the Woods” are about wanting to have something or achieve a state of being.

Reputation/Disgust: Need I say more? She’s through with insincerity and is keeping away from toxic situations and people.

Lover/Anxiety: With songs like “Afterglow,” “The Archer,” and “Cornelia Street,” this album is riddled with the anxiety of starting a new relationship and imagining everything that can go wrong.

Folklore/Sadness: How could the love triangle of Betty, James, and Augusta be anything BUT sad? Broken hearts and betrayed trust make up the majority of this album.

Evermore/Ennui: I see Ennui not as boredom, but apathy with an underlying tone of wanting or needing SOMETHING for a sense of greater fulfillment. I hear that in songs like “Champagne Problems,” “Gold Rush,” “No Body, No Crime,” and “Evermore.”

Midnights/Riley: I chose this to represent everyone since it’s the closing album of the tour shows. Of course, you can find every emotion on every album, but Midnights is such a smorgasbord of emotions! The embarrassment of “Anti-Hero,” the ennui of “Lavender Haze,” the anger of “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve,” the sadness of “You’re Losing Me,” the anxiety of “… Question?,” the joy (and little disgust) of “Karma…” this album has it all.

TTPD/Anger: She calls this album “Female Rage: The Musical.” I think that says it all.

[theheartcollecter]

GHOUL

Chapter 3: Hologram

Warnings: Cannibalism, blood, mentions of hate-fucking, mentions of death, fighting (lmk if I missed any)

A/n: I mention her mask in this chapter, please refer to this for a visual. I also mention different types of Kagune in this chapter, so please use this post as a reference.

After the hybrids had digested the idea that ghouls, like wraiths, eat humans they didn’t show up to visit me for a few days. Occasionally Johnny would bring me my meals, which consisted of raw pig and the blood or some other animal. Regular foods and drinks tasted like ash to Ghouls, the few things that didn’t were simple liquids like black coffee or water. I started to get overwhelmed with boredom, my feet had stop hurting and I was ready to hunt again. Hm, hunting. I haven’t done that in a while, usually Ghouls hunt every month, they are able to control their desires for just that amount of time. Of course, there are the frenzied ones who kill over 5 humans each month, complete waste in my mind. One-Eyed Ghouls, like me, are mainly cannibals. You get far more nutrients from Ghouls, and since One-Eyed Ghouls already have human blood running through their veins, the thought of it doesn’t appeal to them as much as regular Ghouls.

A knock sounded at my door, when it opened I was surprised to see John come in. My red eyes swirled with excitement, the only reason John would visit was because he had good news, or at least, that’s what I hoped. “How you doing, love?” He asked as he sat down in the creaky chair again. “Good,” I said smiling, it was the truth after all. Sitting around all day was boring, but I’d take it over being tortured again. “Bored in here.” He chuckled, taking out a thick cigar. “Mm, ‘bout that, how’d you like to be apart of the team?” I tilted my head, brows furrowing. “The team? What would I do?” He lit the cigar with a puff of fire from his mouth, my eyes widen like a child at the trick. He grinned, crossing his legs. “Well, we could use ya’ on our team, train ya’ and you’d help us fight against Ghouls and learn more about ‘em.” He took a long drag from the cigar, blue eyes watching me. I thought for a second, weighing my choices in my mind. I had fought Ghouls before, hell, it was a routine by now. Perhaps I was a bit shabby, I could use some training to get back into shape. “Alright. But one condition,” John grinned, “Wot is it?” I gave him a stern look, “I want out of this hospital room, no more being locked in here.” “Done.” With that he got up, handing me thick files. “I’ll be back soon ‘nd have ya’ stuff packed.” I nodded up at him, watching him walk out and shut the door. I opened the files, immediately recognizing the faces inside.

Simon, John, Kyle, and Johnny. Their photos had been taken and below each one listed weights, heights, date of birth and more. I skimmed over the files, learning some new things about them, like Johnny who not only looks like a wolf, but can turn into one. I’m not too much younger than the men, although Ghouls don’t age too much.

A couple of hours later I am given some causal clothes to change into. When John comes back, Johnny is hot on his trail. “Oh lass, it’s gonna be so much fun! Yer gonna love the barracks!” He puts his shoulder around me, a big dumb smile on his face. I roll my eyes but don’t push him away. I look to John who’s shaking his head at the younger wolf. “Cmon sweetheart.” Sweetheart. That’s a new one, it warms my cheeks, in a dumb humanly way. I let the men lead me out of the hospital room, down a couple of halls and outside.

Outside there are more people than I expected, mainly hybrids, but I can smell the faint human smell every now and then. Still, no trace of any Ghouls.

When we get to the barracks Ghost and Kyle and nowhere to be found. We walk past four rooms before reaching mine, one filled with paintings and drawings on the wall, another half the room is taken up by a office desk, one is bare except a skeleton drawing next to the bed, and the other looks surprisingly homely. The hybrids show me to my room, the walls are bare, there is a small twin bed in the corner, a closet, and my own bathroom. “D’ya like it?” Johnny asks, tail hitting the wall. I giggle when he whines and grabs the fluffy thing. “Yes. Thank you.” I walk into the room, setting the few things I have down on the bed. “We will train tomorrow, so rest up.” John gives me a wink before closing the door.

I take out the bag with my belongings, inside is my phone, and…my mask. Ghouls typically wear masks when hunting, I haven’t seen it in so long. I touch the black leather, run my fingers along the fake teeth. Seeing it again makes me feel alive, suddenly aware of how long it’s been since I last used my Kagune.

I sleep well, although by now my body has healed fully and has no need for it. I open my closet, surprised to see it stocked with clothes in my size. I pick out a black tank top along with shorts, if I’m training I’ll need to be able to move easily and efficiently. I brush my hair, the white color now growing on me, I no longer look in the mirror and grieve what I used to look like before. Being a Ghoul takes away almost everything human about you, but no need to dwell on those things now. I braid my hair to keep it out of my face. Someone knocks on my door, “G’morning, It’s John, you ready?” The sound is muffled by the door, I open it and peak out to see a smiling John. “Good morning,” I tuck a strand of hair behind my face, “I’ll be out soon, just need to grab something.” I turn towards my bed, grabbing my mask, clenching the leather in my hands before putting it back down again. I’m not ready yet, I’m afraid to put it on yet don’t trust myself without it.

John takes me through the military base, where I get multiple stares from hybrids and humans alike. Mostly for my appearance, but also because I’m a woman. When we get to the training room it’s empty expect for Simon, Johnny, and Kyle. Kyle is sweaty and gulping down water while watching Simon and Johnny…spar? To be honest it looks more like hate-fucking. Simon has Johnny on his stomach pinned to the mat growling something to him and Johnny is grinning from ear to ear as he struggles under the wraith. The sight makes me feel a bit embarrassed, like I just walked in on the three, but John quickly brings attention to us. “Alright boys that’s enough.” Simon looks up at me before grumbling and getting up, Johnny looks way too excited to see me. He gets up and sprints to hug me, sweat and all. “Ugh, Johnny!” I protest, but the wolf doesn’t care. “Good ta’ see ya lass!” He finally lets me go, his eyes lingering on my exposed legs for far too long. John tells me to follow him over to a big area enclosed in glass, we go to the door and John’s types in something on the panel. “Would you rather fight Ghouls or other hybrids?” He asks, eyes still glued to the screen. “What?” I question, looking down at the panel, John typed in ‘Ghouls’ pictures of hologram Ghouls fighting come up on the screen. “Ghouls then.” He says before clicking a few buttons and then door opens in front of us. “Alright, do your best, show us what you got.” His hand comes up to my back, pushing me inside. “Wait, what?!” I stumble inside as the doors close, banging on the door for John to let me out. The hybrids line up outside and watch me, I snarl. What the fuck is this about? A countdown begins, I look around me, standing in the middle of the platform.

When the countdown gets to one i watch as a hologram Ghoul forms, Kagune and all, comes rushing towards me. My eyes widen as I barely dodge the Ghoul, my instincts kicking in. The whites of my left eye disappear as black overtakes them and my Kagune, also called Rinkaku, comes out from my back, ripping the my tank top. I should’ve brought my mask, because the look on the hybrids faces is horrifying. I dash around the Ghoul, the hologram is sloppy but not too unrealistic. The Ghoul has Ukaku, a defensive type of Kagune, it blocks all my head on attacks. I will tire myself out if I keep this up, thought it’s unlikely this hologram is capable of afflicting any real damage. I run up the side of the wall, before pushing off it and stabbing the hologram Ghoul in the back, ripping the ghoul into two. The hologram disappears, and as I catch my breath I look over to see the hybrids all staring at me in wonder. Johnny starts clapping and i wipe the sweat off my forehead as I chuckled.

(Please lmk if you want to be added or removed from tag list) Tag list: @sleepisfortheweakpooh @sugarrush-blush

[rainsleeper]

just testing the waters a little by sharing this

I've posted her before, about a year ago, and I guess she's back (she never really left)

(sorry for the abominable tags i'll probably screenshot them and reblog at some point)

[notyouraverageaardvark]

uh something something he asked for no pickles

rare art post from me, this is a WIP of katelyn from AFTG that i never finished (and probably wont, so i decided to just post it)

ive only read the series once and i dont remember the details of her description so this is all very much headcannon-y, much love to her for putting up with minyard, he doesnt deserve her

[affluent-havoc]

Sometimes, I feel Kyoko is like the Bonnie of Trigger Happy Havoc.

This sounds very weird to say but hear me out. Or... read me out since this is text.

This is unserious by the way but also a part of me is curious cus my gosh is she a hassle to find a good color to consistently give her.

Basically, in FNAF, the consensus on what the hell Bonnie is colored is all over. Is he blue? Is he purple? Indigo? It's always been questioned. Meanwhile, with Kyoko, though I haven't seen a ton of discussion around this, like, what IS her hair color. Actually. Cus sure. She's always been associated with purple and when you color pick her hair, it's almost always near the purple part of the color wheel. But also like, what color IS her hair?

I've seen it been drawn more purple, sometimes even white or silver. Hell! Her hair is described as silver in the first chapter of the game! So, what gives! Like, it's never consistent, even in official artwork!

Case in point:

This is how pale her sprite hair is btw

Also, it's not that any other character's been consistent with this in the series. Then again, at least I can tell that Byakuya's blonde, Makoto's a brunette, that Sakura has white hair and that Leon's a red head.

Plus, I feel that the shade of her hair is what MAKES it look purple. Which leads me to question more. Is it leaning closer to white? Silver? Does she just have purple undertones but it's not actually purple. And like, did her purple hair lighten with age or something cus novel Kyoko's hair is a lot more obviously purple compared to when we first me the girl. Or, does she dye it? Like, make it look like a darker purple in Dr3? Would she even have access to hair dye with the state of the world?!

And like, girl, I get it. You got your mysterious bit going on. But, dang it girl! Pick a lane!

[teardroprosa]

♦︎ girl, goddess, queen ♦︎

I haven’t had much time to art lately thanks to uni but I drew Miss Bylie to keep up with my tradition of redrawing her every year in December :D

and here is 2022’s version ♡

[jewishcissiekj]

hiii quick random question do you guys prefer it when Asajj's forehead markings/tattoos are big or small or when they look like eyebrows or when she actually has eyebrows and not them

I know what's accurate to TCW but my question is about artistic interpretation and personal preference not that (first pic is from the age of republic special, second is by Aaron McBride as an early dooku jedi lost cover concept, third from a lego short i believe, fourth from clone wars 2003)

[the-casbah-way]

even though i really love what hrt is doing to me it has made me so self conscious because i know my body is changing more visibly now and i don't like the idea that people who know me very well will be able to see that. i just hate the idea of people looking at me. and i worry that the people i care about will like me less the more they look at me because i'm ugly

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt Sif Odile duo looping au again and I wanna be able to plot everything out more coherently but act 5 eternally looms overhead and boy I do not wanna look up

[safyresky]

Scrimbly Jacqueline 49/52: T-Posing to assert your dominance is definitely NOT how Jacqueline was envisioning taking down the Clifton Society.

Charlie heard the metal clicks again as something came shooting down from the opposite side of the room. He lunged, covering Jacqueline’s back as the strips came flying towards him. They hit his chest. He let out a whoosh of air from the impact, watching as they fell to the ground with a clatter. Surprised, Charlie pat his entire torso. "They don't work on me?" Two more hit his forearms, promptly falling to the ground. He shoved back his sleeves as best as he could. No shiny marks. “Oh!” Throwing his weight, he shoved Jacqueline to the side, switching places with her. “Charlie, don’t—” “It’s cool! They don’t work on me!” He stuck his arm out for emphasis, another one of the strips bouncing right off him. Jacqueline looked surprised. “Well, shit! That's handy." Colin sneered, the baton tip tap tapping several more spots around him. “You can’t hide behind your human friend forever!”  The pair of Legates heard the metal clanking fill the room as Lady knows WHAT armed all around them. Trying to make himself as big as possible, Charlie stood in front of Jacqueline, arms wide. "Yes she can!" Behind him, Jacqueline looked perplexed. She rolled her eyes with a huff, moving closer to Charlie. “We literally do not have time for this. Hang tight, Charles." And before Charlie could even form a reply, he felt himself be yanked down, snow blasting all around them as they fell towards the couch.

(You can read Part 2 of the Clifton Society Incident HERE and HERE)

Upon editing that behemoth, the MOMENT I realized Charlie was T-POSING IN THAT SCENE?!?!?!?1 I had to make it a scrimbly. I just. HAD to.

This was LAST WEEK'S! This week's is coming to you probably Saturday :)

[Husbando and I are going on an evening adventure to check out the geminid meteor shower outside of the city, so I'll probably get to posting it Saturday depending on how late we stay out--and if we can see anything given we're going in and out of cloud cover around here today! Also, uh, I was a wee bit bad, hehe. I doodled it at work today bc it's about that time chaps (i.e., exam season is waning and there is nobody on the floor but me and my coworker lmao) and they look SO CUTE 🥹🥹🥹]

This week's was ORIGINALLY going to be ANOTHER redraw, this time of THIS scrimbly, but man, Charlie and Jacqueline's shenanigans somehow managed to yeet Jacquie ogling Dite to the curb. WILDIN. Good thing this week's scrimble was a planned diteline, LOL.

Charlie LOOKED good in the sketch, but somehow the hair ended up "late 00s, early 2010s hat hair boy" and I am. Unamused. I've drawn WAY better Charlies, UGH. Gonna have to rewatch the movies, I guess 🤷🏻‍♀️ oh nooooooooooooo 😼

[screamingay]

unfinished sketch of my ocs just for funsies. butch is pj femme is renee sorry for literally never posting abt them lol >_>

[therantingsage]

Drew Frozenclaw again but like....made her look more Warrior Cats™

[foldingfittedsheets]

The location of the sex shop I worked was a haven for spiders. We had tall ceilings and skylights and unused storage rooms. It was a spider paradise. We quickly sussed out which coworkers to call on in case of emergency. The Dorito lady was a solid ally for spiders but absolutely petrified of moths.

But there’s actually a hierarchy of fear. Most people don’t realize. The person least afraid is the one forced to deal with the bug in question. If coworker B was scared, but coworker A was petrified, well coworker B was gonna have to screw their courage to the sticking place because by the law of fear they were the most competent person on scene.

Thus enters Rick. Rick first appeared in the back storage room. This room doubled as a second bathroom so we went in on a semi frequent basis. The girl who’d gone in to pee shot out again gibbering with fear about the biggest spider she’d ever seen had just run across her boot.

We sicced Dorito lady on it. She returned, shaking her head. “He was squatting on a power cord where it plugs in. I couldn’t get a clean shot at Rick.”

“Rick?”

She shrugged. “Spiders that big need a name. Seemed like a Rick.”

Rick, freshly named, became a store menace. I’d normally say this was probably a case of multiple spiders being mistaken for one but everyone who encountered him swore up and down there could be no mistake. This spider was massive, fast, and distinct. A gladiator among arachnids.

I never encountered Rick. His exploits grew in the telling but the theme was consistent: no one could kill him. He’d hunker in places that no one could reach and dart away when a strike missed. He also chased off the more faint hearted, charging them in bold dashes. There could be no benign cup transplant to remove Rick from the premise. He was not leaving.

The saga of Rick continued for two months. Not seeing him was almost worse, a fearful wariness when going to the bathroom or stepping into quieter areas. I waited with dread, hoping my eventual run in would have me on shift with Dorito lady to protect me.

It was not to be. There was a girl the same who hated my one moment of singing that was absolute piss-herself scared of spiders. She’d slam straight into a panic attack and couldn’t think or speak. And so it was that one night on shift, I heard her scream.

It was unmistakable. I was in the front window turning off the open sign. Through an obstacle course of mannequins and lingerie I performed an acrobatic sprint out of the window, darting up to find her quivering at the front counter, fully crying. I radiated calm at her and said, “Just point.”

I knew it was Rick. Our destinies were intertwined and we had always been pulled toward the inexorable battle that was drawing nigh.

Her hand raised to point to our sandwich board sign at the front of the store. So Rick had the metaphorical high ground. There was no quick easy strike on the slanted signs surface.

I armed myself and marched into battle, my knuckles white on my chosen weapon. I would do this, because I must. Because there was no one else. And because I wanted to close and go home.

I saw Rick immediately and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger spider since. Outside of a tarantula, he was truly the most massive spider I’ve ever beheld outside a zoo enclosure or terrarium.

We regarded each other. Rick launched off the sign toward me and I stomped my foot reflexively, making him pause in his charge. Then I raised my weapon. Anything else, I believe Rick could have evaded. He’d bested most of the store thus far. But I had chosen chemical warfare.

I doused the shit out of that spider with cleaning spray, stunning him with a barrage of chemicals. While he froze, choking on the unexpected deluge, I dropped a paper towel over him. My foot came down.

I felt his exoskeleton crunch and I can feel it still to this day. The shattering was as of bones and I truly mourned that we had been forced into senseless war. If only he has cleaved tighter to the shadows. If only he’d crawled willing into a cup for relocation. I released a full body shudder of horror, fear, and adrenaline as I stepped back.

I took several quivering breaths. I donned a veneer of calm and tidied the battlefield of it’s corpse then went to reassure my coworker that all was well, while internally I still shook.

You fought well, Rick. I hope you sired many more monstrous children to haunt retail workers in the years to come. Rest in valor, you monster.

[burymagdalene]

New Year's Wish - S. Reid x Reader

In which reader has to "deal" with their horny boyfriend attached to their hip all night, leading them to sort him out in the bathroom.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Fluff & Smut (18+ pls pls) tags: subbyish spencer, semi-public sex, fondling, masturbation (m receiving) just a bit of crying, overstimulation.. smut, and love! wc: 2.2k. a/n: My first fic that came to fruition after a flu spell! I had a vision for the vibe of this but didn't know how to attach them in the cute 3 pictures above a fanfiction way.. sorry-- I DID IT

New Year’s Eve always feels like that holiday where you always have high hopes for, but consistently falls flat. Luckily, this year you have your sweet boyfriend, Spencer by your side to help you through the social interactions with mutual friends all night. Though, the alcohol helps alongside that as well. 

You’re looking into the mirror with squinted eyes at your reflection, analyzing what more to add to your outfit as Spencer gawks at you from your bed. “Spence, should I have my striped tights with this dress, or no tights? I’m worried I’ll be freezing.”

Spencer forcibly peels his eyes away from your curves in the tight dark gray dress you have on. “Tights. Yeah.” He pulls his lips in for a polite smile.

“Roger that!” You walk over to retrieve the tights from your dresser, Spencer’s music plays softly from a speaker and you sway along to it, “I like this one.” You walk back over to your boyfriend who still sits rigidly on your bed, despite how many times he’s been in it. 

“Would you like to do the honors?” With a hand reached out, you display the tights to Spencer.

Spencer gives you a full-tooth grin, “Why yes I would” and pats the space next to him on your bed. You dramatically plop down as Spencer stands up, between your legs. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you smile at Spencer as he starts to pull one of your stocking legs up your foot. Slowly shimmying it up, he traces over your ankle and up your calf. 

“I’m a little nervous for tonight, I haven’t been to this house party in a couple years, but it was pretty fun last time,” you make conversation. Your good friend Tatum had invited you and Spencer to come to a New Year’s Eve house party at her boyfriend, Eric’s house. You had been a few years prior in support of her endeavors of seducing said Eric, which obviously went well. 

Spencer hums and once the other leg has been covered, takes your hands to pull you up so that you’re standing and he can pull the tights up your waist. His hands flip your dress up to pull over your underwear and straighten it back down once the tights are on. “So pretty,” he starts laughing “you look so pretty you don’t have to be nervous about anything ever.”

“Shut up,” you giggle and pull him by his neck in for a kiss. “Let’s go, the sooner we leave the sooner I can rummage through Eric's stuff.”

Within 30 minutes you have arrived at Eric's, made pleasantries, taken a shot with your friend and some of her friends you pretend to know the names of, and are sitting on the couch side-by-side with Spencer, who has his hand freakishly high up your thigh.

Conversation goes better than your pre-party nerves prompted you to believe, there’s a good amount of people so that you can watch, and the wine being served was not bitterly disgusting. 

Spencer now rests his head on your shoulder, his side pressed neatly up against yours as he draws mindless circles into your patterned tights. He slowly moves up to your ear “kiss?” he mumbles softly. 

You position yourself so you're craning down a bit to make eye contact, and raise a suspicious eyebrow. PDA is not something Spencer is obsessed with, so kissing in a room with a large group of people should’ve been your first warning of how Spencer was feeling tonight. Regardless, you relent, how could you not kiss him in any circumstance? You lean down and peck him softly. 

Spencer sighs into the kiss, and sighs even harder when you pull away. You giggle and poke his side softly with your index finger. “I think we’re supposed to save all the kissing for midnight, love.” 

He lazily laughs, shifts his head and plants a wet kiss onto your exposed neck, which causes you to blush with how open he’s being in front of everyone. “Who made that rule,” he whines “I thought you’re allowed to kiss whenever but are supposed to especially kiss at midnight.”

“Hmm, well actually I don’t kno-” he cuts you off with a giggle and a firm kiss to your lips. You pull away, blush covering your face. “Okay.. ummm” you fidget a bit and stand up for a moment after plotting, pulling Spencer up by his hands. 

You take him upstairs to the bathroom for guests of the host, not the bathroom downstairs for every other partygoer, and shut the door behind you both. “Spencer!” you laugh as he softly pushes you up against the door and whines a pitiful “sorry” between the kisses he’s peppering on your neck and chest. 

Your eyes instinctively flutter shut for a moment as you whisper “just for a bit.. I wanna hang out some more still…”

Spencer laughs against your neck, “yeah, sure.” You shake your head in disbelief at how cocky he is, well, rightfully is. He pulls away and tucks your hair behind your ears, eyes staring at your face. Spencer trails his hands from where they’re cupping your face slowly down your neck, tracing your skin, to where your dress scoops down on your chest. “This dress.. So perfect.” He smiles at you. 

“Hmm, thank you. Thought that you might like it.” You play with his tie around his neck, untightening it just a bit. You use it as leverage to pull him towards the sink, which you are now hopping up on to take a seat. Spencer menuevers himself between your legs, wraps his hands around your waist and deepens the kiss. 

Typically, it shouldn’t shock you that Spencer can get hard relatively quickly when kissing you, because you yourself are getting a little shifty with desire as the kiss continues. However, the firmness of his boner against your inner thigh makes you want to mock him for it anyway. 

“Spencer! You’re hard!” You laugh and push him back a little so you can look at it. Though you enjoy embarrassing him for it, the desire you have to immediately look at it, touch it, talk about it, reveals how excited you are about it. 

Spencer lets his head fall back, “I can’t help it! Please stay here a little longer.” He begs softly with a grin of amusement. 

You trace your fingertips down his button up shirt and unbutton the bottom three buttons slowly, moving them to his side so you can properly graze your nails against where his happy trail begins above his pants. “I dunno…” you tease and work your hand around the outline of his dick through his trousers, a rush of air blowing out of Spencer's nose. “It sounds like they’re having a lot of fun down there.” 

“I could be having a lot of fun down there!” Spencer quips, referring to his boner that's painfully twitching against his leg now. 

Testing his limits, you slip away from him and jump back down to the floor, readjusting your dress. “How about you just take care of yourself baby?” You joke, expecting a huff and a petulant eye roll coming from Spencer in return.

Instead, he lets out a deep sigh immediately followed by a quiet “kay,” as he quickly unbuckles his belt, stunning you. 

You stare at his ministrations, quite frantic with how desperately he’s trying to take his dick out. Spencer pulls his underwear down just enough so that he can grip himself, his leaky tip not going unnoticed with the carefully constructed bathroom mood lighting. 

Spencer takes his shaky hand and carefully rubs his tip with his palm covering it, he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure as his jaw drops.

Your jaw is also dropped as you watch your boyfriend whine with every tug he’s giving his dick. You’re stuck between staying and watching, maybe even giving this poor soul a break and helping him out, and continuing your teasing nature with getting ready to go back downstairs. You two make eye contact in the mirror.

You pull up your purse from the ground onto the sink, rummaging through it to find your lipstick. Looking in the mirror, it's all smudged off and your hair is a bit of a ruffled mess with how Spencer’s fingers were just pulling through it. 

Spencer continues to work himself staring at you in the reflection. You apply your lip liner and he twists his fist around his dick, a small trail of precum dripping from his knuckles. You take out your ruddy lipstick and he grabs the counter with one hand, watching and working desperately hard to keep his eyes trained on your reflection. “Ah, my god, baby-” Spencer mumbles, the high pitched tone in his voice indicating just how unfair you’re being towards him. 

You gulp, feigning apathy, and toss your hair a bit in the mirror, fixing some strands and making it look like you were not being groped in the bathroom moments prior. Giving Spencer an award winning smile in the mirror he grips the base of his dick, holding off the inevitable so he can stare a little bit longer at you in the mirror.

Reaching over beside him to grab toilet paper, ignoring how his whines escalate as your body brushes his, you put the small piece of paper between your lips, dabbing off access lipstick onto it. You look over at Spencer's pinched eyebrows and hand him the toilet paper with your lipstick stain with a chuckle. 

Spencer makes a high pitched “mmn” as he grabs the paper, shaking his head at the situation, embarrassed with himself. Between his pointer and middle finger of his left hand the toilet paper is held loosely, his right hand starts moving up and down again.

Shuffling from side to side, every pass of his fist, every soft moan, makes your legs numb to the directions from your brain screaming at them to leave the room, join the festivities downstairs. “Jesus, Spence.” Your eyes travel directly to where he’s pumping himself, breaking eye contact. 

“Don’t want you to go,” he mumbles again. You can tell by the way he’s talking, mumbling and hushed that he’s focused only on cumming now. “Want, uh… wanna watch you till I-”

As much as you pride yourself in being a nonchalant, charismatic tease, the way your boyfriend's bottom lip quivers and his eyes wet, you absolutely cannot bring yourself to leave his shaking frame to cum in solitude. You’re not evil!

So you scoot towards him, butt pressing against the sink again as you pull Spencer in by the tie, sucking a mark into his flushed neck. He gasps and runs his thumb over the spot below his tip that makes him see stars and cums all over the lipstick printed toilet paper you gave him. The right side of Spencer’s neck now sporting the same lipstick print. 

The first time you try to help him out through this process is also a form of torture for Spencer. You push his hand aside and grip him yourself, sticky cum covering your hand immediately as he sucks in a sharp breath “I dunno..” he says through gritted teeth.

You pump him into overstimulation as he rocks his hips into and away from your fist, not knowing if he wants to accept the red hot pleasure coming from your hand right now or to hide from it. Pressing your body close to his was a mistake since now your pretty striped tights now have a suspiciously cum-looking stain on them.

“S-sorry,” Spencer feebly makes out as he catches his cum rolling down the fabric. “Shitt.” He draws out and squeezes his eyes shut in remorse and the only reaction you have is to laugh. The dramatics of his cum on your leg not impacting you as hard as Spencer, who is the one with oxytocin flowing down to his toes. 

You hum softly, slow your hand down his softening length and run your clean hand through his hair, moving it from his face. “That's okay baby, feel good?” Smiling dreamily at him, he cracks his weepy eyes open with a nod. 

“You actually c-cannot put that dress on again. I feel like a neanderthal.” Spencer's head falls against your shoulder. 

“Huh, well you might be in luck because I’m not sure I can put this dress on again because there is a gnarly cumstain on the bottom of it now.” You tease lightly and take his jaw in your hand for a kiss. 

Spencer winces and looks down, “Nuh uh! Just the tights. Cruel woman.”

The efforts you made to make yourself presentable earlier had to be repeated, alongside Spencer who you cleaned up with toilet paper and dabbed his eyes dry again. The two of you had actually missed the countdown into New Year which you are sure is because Spencer was whining too loudly for you two to hear the “3…2..1..” from voices downstairs, but most likely you two were kissing anyway, so whatever the rule is for kissing on New Years, you and Spencer rang in the New Year properly.

[hirookouji]

sorry ive been just dumping art on this blog... but at least im not posting all my wips here

[mariasont]

TEDIUM - S.R

a/n: found this dress on pinterest and just needed to write something about it

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: spencer is not having the best time at the FBI Gala, well, until you show up

warnings: just cuties being cute, spencer swooning, maybe suggestive if you squint, spencer asks out bimbo reader!!

wc: 1.1k

Spencer was bored, more than bored, he was tedium. The word, meaning a dullness in routine, had come to him during a lecture about the history of timekeeping, illustrating the repetitive tick of a clock which can lead to such a state.

That is what he felt like, like the monotone ticking of a clock was more consistent with a sonic boom bouncing off the walls of his brain. His hand was wrapped around a beer, not his typical drink of choice, but the stale surroundings seemed to demand a departure from his usual routine.

To anyone else, the surroundings would have been anything but stale. The air vibrated with music, elegant attire sparkled under the light, important people exchanged pleasantries, and drinks flowed like rivers. However, Spencer found himself disengaged, the usual allure of the FBI Gala eluding him, leaving him feeling oddly detached.

At his elbow, Penelope was sipping on something pink, the glass seemingly more decorative than practical. She was talking about something, something about how she wished Morgan was here and how he'd love the dress she was wearing. But Spencer's mind was elsewhere, locked on the door, his body immobilized by a sudden alertness.

The frothy concoction of pastels and ruffles you often wore were nowhere to be seen tonight. He felt as if his whole body was reprogramming itself as you descended the stairs, the green fabric of your dress seemed to flow like water, the peaks and swells of your body calling to him in a language that his rational mind struggled to ignore.

Your smile reached him before you did, the apple of your cheeks straining with a grin so effortlessly bright. You waved at him, your gold-heeled feet gliding across the floor towards him. Time seemed to slow. His fingers tightened around the beer, the chill of the condensation battling the warmth spreading across his brow. He wanted to memorize you, taking a mental screenshot that might come in handy later.

"Oh my gosh, look at the two of you!" Juggling your matching purse, you managed to slide it under your arm, freeing your hands to wrap Penelope in a hug.

Your hands then moved to Spencer, arms looping around his neck. He took a beat, his beer finding its place on the counter, before his hands settled on your waist, pulling you close. The sweet scent of coconut wafted from your hair, intoxicating him in a way that made him reluctant to let go. But he restrained himself, allowing you to be the one to draw back first.

"Makes a girl feel a little outshone." You were joking, he knew that, but he still couldn't help to reassure you.

"You look beautiful."

He caught the hint of a smile you were holding back, feeling it in the way your hand clasped his. You mumbled a thanks, so faint it was almost lost, uncharacteristic for you.

"Are you kidding? You look like a goddess. I feel like I should be asking for your autograph," Penelope gushed, her hands dramatically gesturing to you.

It was impossible for Spencer not to notice the way your hand didn't leave his, fingers laced together naturally, your thumb moving in soft strokes. His heart was failing, he was sure.

Penelope's attention was drawn to where Spencer's focus lay, eyebrows shooting up. A knowing grin pulled at her lips as she looked between you. "Oh my, I totally spaced that I was supposed to meet up with Luke! You guys will be okay without me, right? Hugs and kisses, I'll be back!"

Spencer laughed, his free hand reaching for his discarded beer, lifting it to his lips in an attempt to counter the heat coursing through him.

It didn't. Not with you so close, touching him. He was putty in your hands.

"Is it, like, super weird seeing me outside of work hours?" you asked, dropping his hand as you reached to dig inside your purse, signaling for the bartender. "It's like bumping into your dentist at a party—doesn't really happen."

As you ordered your drink, Spencer was already in motion, intercepting with his own card.

"I've got it," he insisted. "And yeah, it's a bit unusual, but a good kind of unusual."

"Thanks, Spence. Next one's on me." He definitely wasn't going to let that happen. You swivel the face him with a cherry-topped drink in hand. "I totally agree, it's the best kind of unusual. We should do it more often."

"Yeah, we should," he replied, the word floating on a shaky breath.

The opportunity was there, ripe as the cherry you were now teasing with your tongue. The question, however, refused to materialize, trapped as he watched your tongue slide over the fruit as it were second nature.

You didn't even realize what you were doing, looking up at him with a pure innocence, but somehow as if you knew he was toying with the idea of asking you out. 

The intimate bubble that had formed around you two burst suddenly when Emily called out. You turned sharply, inadvertently pressing flush against Spencer as you tried to pinpoint her voice.

Spencer's muscles tensed, his arm instinctively finding the curve of your waist in an effort to steady both himself and you. Your hand lifted in a wave, presumably to Emily, while your other hand found a place on his bicep.

"I'm pretty sure Emily wants us over there," you mentioned casually, making no move to distance yourself or approach Emily.

Spencer's response was a nod, his eyes drinking in your face—the lushness of your lashes, the specks of color in your eyes, the gentle slope of your nose, the swell of your lips—each feature distinctly yours.

"Let me take you on a date." It was as if the phrase had a life of its own, announced from a version of Spencer that even he didn't recognize.

Your mouth, glossed in pink, paused mid-motion, opening slightly. "Like an actual date-date? I'd love to go on a date with you. I've been not-so-patiently waiting for you to ask."

The thumping of his heart was loud in his ear, his cheeks tinged with pink as you looped your arm through his. "You have?"

You let out a laugh, the kind that bubbled up effortlessly and seemed to warm the pit of his stomach. He was sure the team's eyes were on the two of you, but he wasn't sure if he cared.

"Oh, totally! Probably since my first day when you had the meeting with Chief Cruz. I was like, wow he's smart and cute."

The ticking of the clock seemed irrelevant now. Spencer realized that the tedium he felt might not have been a symptom of the event but the absence of you. Now, with your arm linked in his, everything felt like it took on a new hue, brighter and thrilling, as if the clock had been reset. 

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