#relevant to my current drawing

[zimbits-my-love]

I still hate coloring 🫠

[cervidaecorpse]

Something something about how both care so much about each other that Phaser founded an entire organisation for Tremolo to no longer be afraid, and Tremolo risking his freedom just to keep one secret of Phaser hidden, yet they lack communication in the worst sense that when Tremolo has an outburst of anger, Phaser goes along with whatever Tremolo asks of him, and Tremolo follows Phaser’s orders no matter how bad or unreasonable they are, instead of doing the rational thing of sitting each other down and talking about the actual problem and solving it like well-adjusted people.

It's like they share one singular braincell that only activates while thinking about solving the problems of others (or the current big problem at hand), but once it's between the brothers it instantly shuts down and "make sure your brother stays unharmed and happy – emergency_protocol.exe" is activated.

Obviously, the one braincell is a joke because the plan they crafted with the other rebels was genius, considering the information they had at the time. The way they communicated with Rovian, Luge and Manya to avoid detection from Yuna was beautiful. Not to mention the way Phaser saw the integration of the MIK employees into Goha Cooperation. Sure, it was involved with a cover up, but the very reasonable thought was still there.

I'm not trying to make light of Phaser and Tremolo or their issues. I don't really want to address their overall problems (and neither do they, like ever) or analyse them, because I'm very bad at analysing anything, lol. I just think they are silly and the absolute worst.

I love them.

Thank you, for coming to my yap session that had me searching the right words to express myself with for almost two years. I'm certain there are other reasons to love them and all of them are valid. These are just my main ones after looking past the pretty privilege and the ocean and mythology themed decks, lol.

[starry-907]

when the character associated with red and black has a stoic outward appearance but is often headcanoned as a bit weird, was initially created as a weapon, watched their sibling (or headcanoned sibling) get killed in front of them, probably has some kind of trauma, has a vauge connection to someone who has a lot of friends, menaced the world they live in for somewhat misguided reasons, can shoot fire from their feet, and are/have been entangled with an organization that has at least vauge ties to the government

[strawberry-jan]

got carried away with a warm-up doodle because I was thinking too hard about minekata, as one does

[gremnda]

why do i have a bajillion wips.... i'm trying to go through them and it feels like i'm making no progress sobs

[takitori67]

Doodles while I'm struggling to draw a short comic

[jonquilandlace]

Someone should hire me for ideas on building a superior word processor specifically for dissertation writing I have so many good ideas

[lilacerull0]

the most touching and the most influential aspect of elena's writing is that she takes these people who exist as representatives of the universe, of something intergal to human nature, their lives not in any way original, their destinies shared with thousands and she makes sure, almost instinctively, that we as readers remember them by their specific names. how many people have taken their own life for the same reasons franco mari did? how many people suffered alfonso's faith in exchange for one second of owning their identities? how many girls didn't get to go to school the way lila did? but that doesn't concern elena, does it... those numbers... she thinks of lila and she sees lila and these people who have done nothing but repeat the past exist in this space, exactly as elena remembers them, exist and belong entirely to themselves... these people are gifted originality and importance simply because this woman remembers them... and that means something!!!!!!!!!!

[seaofreverie]

So busy with Sparkstember that I almost forgot that I go back to school on tuesday

[blackwaxidol]

"A desk would fix me" is such a simple but truthful declaration... I see it, the end is in sight...

Lumbar support...

[1800duckhotline]

what if you drew them as animal crossing villagers

OOOH I SHOULD TRY SHOULDN'T I. THAT'D BE CUTE....

[angeygirl]

Day 4:

[fastepp]

i need YA to be better written and I need full grown adults to stop recommending me YA. these two things are related.

[akechis-special-case]

What To Pay Attention To

Selfship Fic Collection

Words: 480

Out of all things I expected Goro to do, it isn’t this. To my surprise he can act a little needy whenever he wants to. Honestly? It is a rather interesting discovery. I giggle when thinking back on it. Looks like even he can get a little jealous.

I didn’t really do much I think. I sometimes tend to talk to one of my friends for some time over text. But not just any friend. It wouldn’t be that big of an issue otherwise. But when it was his rival… Oh, that is a different story.

Akira and I tend to just goof off no matter what. Sometimes we send each other texts back and forth. It is usually random, like sending images or starting nonsensical word chains. But it’s funny. That or we just send pictures of the cats back and forth, Morgana and Ole. It is just the usual banter.

But sometimes Goro would catch a glimpse, by sheer accident. Usually he doesn’t say anything. At most I hear him huffing. But today? Before I knew it he had grabbed both of my cheeks and turned my face into his direction. We are both looking at each other. I am a little caught off guard by it.

He however looks a little grumpy. ‘Why spend time with him when I’m right there?’ Even if it is a thought left unsaid. I can already see it written all over his face. His disapproving frown especially is giving it away.

I can’t help but chuckle. “Aww, is someone jealous?” I ask, not holding back my teasing tone. I move my hand, stretching out a finger and suddenly poke him on his nose.

He reacts to this gesture, flinching while his cheeks catch a hint of pinkness on them. “N… No. Not at all.” Goro responds stubbornly. Even if it’s so obvious he just can’t admit to it.

“No? You’re not scared that Akira might—”

“Don’t you dare talk about him right now!” A sudden hiss, or almost. Yet that gives it all away. 

Instead of flinching I only chuckle. “Right, right. You’re not afraid to lose to him again, are you?”

“L… Lose!? That’s total nonsense!” And yet he squeezes my cheeks a little tighter. It is not hurtful at all though so no worries! Not just that but he also leans a little closer all of a sudden. “Now shut up before—”

“You make me?” I interrupt, noticing the cheeky grin on my face. Not like I’m sorry though. “Go on then. I dare you.”

He doesn’t respond right away, not verbally at least. All he does is get closer all of a sudden, so close that his breath starts hitting my lips. “Fine. You asked for it.” Only then to close the remaining distance between us.

As for my chat earlier… Eh, not important. I’m sure Akira will understand.

[racmune]

actually awful that im able 2 watch the dn musical coming back to the anime 2 finish up the last arc is even more torturous atp like WHAT R U SAYING THIS IS WHAT I COULD BE WATCHING RIGHT NOW...

[reiderwriter]

505

Week Four of my yearly playlist challenge!

Summary: When you fall asleep on the overnight drive between one case and the next, Spencer gets awfully distracted by your sleep talking.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Partial Spencer POV, dom!Spencer, brat!Reader, pain play (scratching, choking, spanking, etc), degradation (use of whore, slut), masturbation (m and f), orgasm denial, breeding kink, creampie, cockwarming.

A/N; Thank you to the Arctic Monkeys for fuelling my delusions and for gif makers everywhere for their services to horniness. This was the first playlist fic chosen from a recommended song, so if you enjoyed it, don't forget to send me more song recommendations for the playlist!~

Masterlist || Playlist

Spencer was never the most confident driver in the BAU, but between the two of you, he was the only one who possessed a licence. 

Which is how he found himself driving through the night with you asleep in his passenger seat, trying not to be distracted by the small whimpers and sighs dropping from your mouth. 

You'd been sent across state lines to investigate a recent homicide that may have been linked with your current case, and now that you'd deemed it relevant to your case, you were driving back to the rest of the team with all the documents you needed in tow. 

He'd been happy to drive when you left, with the sky black and the air cold, knowing that the country roads that would lead you just over the border would be practically empty. He'd even been content to let you sleep the majority of the journey, having noticed how little sleep you'd managed to get so far on this case. 

He'd been happy until your lips parted and you'd whispered his name in a moan. 

He'd thought you were awake at that moment and assumed you were about to ask where you were or what time it was. But you hadn't opened your eyes, and your breaths were still even and steady. 

You did it again five minutes later, and the gentle sound hit the hairs on the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine that settled comfortably in his now tight pants. 

‘Shit,’ he thought, sparing a glance at you whilst keeping his hands comfortable at 10 and 2, his posture rigid as he willed other parts of his body to relax. 

Your legs had splayed open, your hand having fallen unconsciously between them for some kind of relief. He didn't let his thoughts linger where his eyes had fallen. 

He tried to convince himself that you were just dreaming about a case. Maybe he'd been shot in your dream, and you'd felt sad. Maybe your moans were ones of sorrow. 

“Spencer, fuck…”

Maybe he was going to hell for the thoughts flooding his brain because he wanted nothing more than to slide a hand into your pants and start giving you the relief you so blatantly begged for. 

He settled for turning into the next motel he saw advertised on the road. Hotch had told them, of course, that they could rest up for the night if needed, but he'd been too eager to get on the road while it was clear. But with his mind fogged with less than ideal thoughts, and your obviously aching body moaning beside him, a motel honestly couldn't hurt. 

You woke up slowly as he parked the car, the lack of motion wearily drawing you from your dream. He looked across at you and let out a sigh of relief to see you conscious. 

He'd been willing to carry you to whatever room you'd get, but he didn't know whether his hands would linger over your body. Wouldn't know if he'd be able to retract his hands at all if you reacted like that in your sleep. 

Now you were awake and looking at him, talking to him even, but all he could think about was whether you'd react better to his touch when awake. How could he get you to moan his name again, and how loud would you dare do it?

“Spence? Hello, are you listening?”

“What?” 

“Okay, I'm glad you pulled off the road if you're so tired you're not even hearing me speak,” you laughed a little, and the sound shot straight to his cock. 

Your voice was thick with sleep, and the phantom of his name hung on your lips, having been the last words to drop from your tongue. He usually had better control of himself. 

“Yeah, let's go get some sleep. You sounded pretty tired, too.” 

“Sounded?” You asked, and he watched your face warp in gentle confusion. He bit his tongue, trying to retract the statement, choosing the cold, biting winter air over the sight of you with a pout on your lips. 

His brain was addled with thoughts of those two plump cushions pouting around his cock as he held your hair back and- and yes, the cold air was definitely necessary. 

“You stretch your legs, I'll go organise the room,” you said, climbing out of your side of the car. He nodded along, not trusting his voice not to break like a prepubescent boy and turning his back to you, not trusting his eyes to linger awkwardly on your ass. 

It seemed like seconds, and then you were back leading him to the rooms you'd booked. 

When you unlocked only one door, with only one key, however, Spencer found all the progress of the last few minutes squashed immediately. 

“We're sharing?” He hung around the door, not sure whether to step inside or just resign himself to sleeping in the car. He made a mental note to grab some tissues before heading back out to the car if this conversation ended the way he thought it would. 

“Yeah, they only had one room cleaned and ready right now. It's fine, right? We've shared rooms on cases before.” 

You’d shared rooms on cases before, but never after he'd driven for nearly a half hour listening to you moan his name. He'd usually been too exhausted after full days of work and had regrettably fallen asleep first each time you'd been roommates. 

“Yeah, it's cool.” He cleared his throat, trying to make the octave jump his voice had just made it seem like a symptom of some kind of sickness he was coming down with. 

“Great, let me just go shower quickly, and then we can get into bed.” 

Warnings signals rang throughout his head, but he still sat patiently listening to the water running in the shitty motel bathroom. Grabbing his go bag, he readied himself for sleep, trying to ignore the fact that you were hot and wet and naked just a wall away and that he could hear everything. 

Every sigh you released, every trickle of water running across your skin. Every mumble of his name. 

Again, he thought he'd imagined it, but now he was sure you were torturing him. 

Your gasps of air were less innocent than they were four minutes ago, chest having faster and faster, and he thought it was clear that your hand covered your mouth to make you less audible. He didn't know what you were doing, but it didn't matter much to his cock, which had stiffened painfully once again. Unconsciously, his hand reached for it, needing to give himself some release. He'd already pulled off his slacks and put on his baggier sleep pants, which did nothing to hide his affliction. 

Instead, it was somehow more obvious, painfully so. And his hand was pawing at it through the thin material, chasing that high that you yourself were likely close to in the bathroom. 

It was only when the shower shut off once more that he realised how fogged his brain had been. His cock throbbed in his hand, and it certainly wasn't going down anytime soon, and you'd be out of the bathroom in minutes if not seconds. 

With no other choice, he dived under the bed sheets and pulled them up across his chest, too, and began to pretend to sleep. 

When the light spilt from the bathroom, he screwed his eyes shut tighter, even as his brain willed him to sneak a look at you. 

But he held firm, telling himself that he just needed to wait for you to fall asleep and then he'd relieve himself. 

At least those were his plans until he felt the dip in the bed, the movement of his sheets, and the warmth spreading across the bed from you to him. 

You'd climbed into bed right next to him. Your ass was mere centimetres away from his crotch, and he shuddered in pleasure. Shuddered. 

He tried to keep his breathing still, even, and he really thought after a few minutes that you too had fallen asleep. It was all but impossible as your body cuddled in closer to his and he found your ass pressed comfortably against his straining cock. 

“Y/N, you need to move,” he warned, breath shooting out of him as he resisted digging his hands into your breasts and holding you tight so you couldn't move. 

“I don't want to,” you replied sleepily, either not noticing the danger you were in or not caring. 

His hands rested on your hips, trying to press you just slightly away so his own hips could scoot back, but you clung to his heat. 

“It's cold in here, Spencer, and you're like a furnace right now.” With those pouty words, you turned your body around and wrapped your hips up and around his body. He scooted back as you did, though, just an inch too far, and instead of landing softly against his chest, the two of you landed in a tangled mess on the floor. 

“Spencer,” you moaned again, this time in shock, as you perhaps finally felt his aching length poking the inside of your thigh. 

He'd dampened your fall on the way down, clasping you to him as he flailed in the air for a few seconds, bringing his downfall on faster with your ass cupped in his palms. 

“Fuck, Spencer, you're so hard.” His dick twitched at the sound of your tired voice pressed against his ear. 

You pulled away slowly, head peeking down between you, trying to catch a glimpse of his still hardening cock between the two of you. 

“Don't look, it'll get harder,” he grunted, grasping your hips harder and trying to catch your attention again. But that just had you grinding down into his hips again, and your mouth widened in that perfect ‘o’ as you felt the desperation and need drip from him. 

“Spencer,” you said, hips reacting slowly at first as they kept up the small movements of pressing down on him and lifting your hips slightly to do so again. 

You were grinding your cunt into his hard cock, pinning him to the ground and using his body to get yourself off. 

It was the most deliriously arousing thing he'd ever born witness to. 

“Y/N, stop it before you regret it.” His tone was a warning, but his words came out at barely a whisper. You didn't even bother with a reply. 

“Y/N, please I mean it-” 

“Spencer, fuck-” you moaned for the last time before he pushed you to the ground and pressed his lips against yours. 

He'd hit his limit, and now he was going to reach his reward. 

He ran his hands up to the waistband of your sleep shorts and quickly tugged them down, lips not leaving yours as he forced his tongue into your mouth. Your moans were throaty now, and they were loud, your brain so delirious with just you'd completely bypassed any shy feelings. 

After making quick work of your pants, he grabbed your hand in his and moved it over his throbbing cock, showing you what it was you needed from him. 

“Stroke it.” 

You did. Sliding a hand into his pants, you gripped him firmly in your hand and gently ran your fingers up and down his tip, more teasing than anything solid. 

Spencer didn't complain, though, knowing he wouldn't last that long if you took your job as seriously as he was about to take his. 

“Spread your legs. Now.” 

You weren't sure what it was about his tone, but you complied easily. His fingers reached out, and he almost sent up a prayer as his fingers came into contact with your wet, heat. You were so aroused. 

“Did you dream about me? Earlier in the car?” He questioned, two fingers slipping easily inside your pussy as his thumb traced your clit.

“Y-Yes.” 

“Did you think about me in the shower?” 

“Spencer, I can expl-” 

“Answer me. Please.” 

“Yes.” 

“You were touching yourself thinking about me, knowing I could hear just how much of a slut you were through these walls. You wanted this, Y/N.” 

He increased his pace as your eyes clouded over, your already sleepy countenance looking decidedly more ready for release and rest. 

But he wasn't in a giving mood. 

“What an impolite little whore,” he whispered in your ear, withdrawing his hands completely and picking himself up from the floor. 

Your eyes shot open in confusion and pain as he sat himself on the edge of the bed. You watched his movements, saw him pull his still erect cock from his pants and begin stroking himself, and quickly organised your limps into a kneeling position by his feet. 

He watched you closely as you let your head fall onto his thigh, your eyes following each pump of his hand up and down, and up and down. 

“Spencer, please fuck me,” you pleaded with him, trying to resist the temptation to wrap your legs around his and hump his leg like a real bitch in heat. Though he'd probably greatly enjoy the view. 

“Why should I?” 

“Because if you don't, I'm going to sit here and finger myself until I pass out from exhaustion. And then I'm going to request a room with you on every other case this year and do it all over again.” 

“You're manipulative, you know that?” 

“I just know what I want, Spencer.” 

“Then come and take it.” 

Though he told you to come to him, it was his hand on your neck that guided you to your place in his lap. 

It was his hand on his cock that lined himself up with your cunt. It was his hips that snapped up into yours as he finally took you. 

But it was your lips that screamed his name as he fucked you roughly. 

Each thrust was most intense than the last, deeper, harder, faster.

You clawed at his hair, you bit his bottom lip when your mouths Mey again. You clawed your nails across his shoulders and back. 

He pressed you back into the mattress, and you wrapped your legs around him one more time, urging him to stay right there for the rest of the night. 

His hands found your breasts, and he grabbed them again, roughly.

It was finally too much, and, as he pinched down on your nipple hard to see that beautiful mix of pleasure and pain one more time, you came around his cock, heat spreading out of you in waves as your thighs twitched under the weight of sheathing him. 

“I'm going to cum, Y/N, I'm going to cum,” he dragged his teeth across your neck, whispering the words like a prayer. 

You couldn't reply, mouth so heavy with lust your tongue couldn't move if his wasn't forcing it. 

“I'm going to cum inside you,” he whispered again, his voice a growl of pleasure as your eyes shot open again. 

All you could do was moan his name as he painted your cunt white, pressing his entire weight down on you without a care in the world. 

You remained locked in that embrace for a long moment, your body tired and brain similarly diminished. Trusting him to take care of things, you let your eyes droop closed and let sleep consume you. 

Your last thought was on his weight still pressed into yours, and the fact that he was still yet to pull out of you and spill his well-placed seed.