#notes doodles are the fucking best

[benetnvsch]

Going through old notes and found some doodles of my favorite guys,,,,

#I say guys gender neutrally both of them are not Cis u can’t tell me otherwise #kite draws #kunikida doppo #Enkidu #bsd #fgo #pls don’t ask abt my hand writting no I can’t read it either- #art #fanart #notes doodles are the fucking best #the only benefit of being back at school is my art koala tea will increase tenfold

[roemantics]

idk how to insert a cat pun into 'the evil within' but as u can see they are cats

#the evil within #tew #sebastian castellanos #joseph oda #leslie withers #ruben victoriano #ruvik #laura victoriano #cat seb makes me giggle idk #my art #fanart #doodles #sebastian CATellanos #joseph meowda #mewben vicpurriano #mewvik..? #meowra vicpurriano cant forget her #LESLIE WHISKERS #BEST NAME IVE COME UP WITH SO FAR #these notes are so fucking stupid im sorry

[rosie-lav-art]

I didn't have an Anime Drawings phase as a kid, so I get to start at Middle School Level as a 27 year old 😭 at least I can only go up from here!

Please recommend a blorbo or two of yours for me to draw. I need to practice!!!!! I have so many years of practice to catch up on before I find a style I can do easily/consistently 😭

#rosie draws #doodles #Pls don't come for me I am trying my best #I know I'll get better with practice #I've already seen improvements in my anime girl 2000s style with Starlight Starbright #I'm gonna do some ranma 1/2 and inuyasha studies ses if I can't get that style down #If I drew this when I was 12 and watching death note.....i would have been over the moon with ot #I gotta remember that 12 year old Rosie would be so proud of anything I've drawn recently #12 year old Rosie figured wed never be an artist #And now I'm out here trying to learn and grow every day #I started a comic that's fucking crazy!!!! It's just a Lil one but it's something!!!

[movietonight]

whats the best episode of mash

*gestures at my url* no jk it really depends on how you define "best" and what you want the episode to do. M*A*S*H has so many strong episodes and so many of them stand out as excellent episodes in terms or comedy or drama or anti-war satire or balance of comedy and drama.

#mash #asks #like best written? directed? funniest? saddest? best satire? best balance of elements? most mash? #and even then I can probably not objectively answer this #at least not without a full rewatch and taking notes #I've been watching nothing but the finale on loop for months now #But I cited yankee doodle doctor in my thesis and like underrated as fuck #perfect microcosm of mash

[moe-broey]

Drawing Moe and Alfonse being physically affectionate w each other is so fucking funny like. Both of these guys hate being touched. It is EXTREMELY situational if they can allow Being Touched. They both have very strict boundaries. I think they both would hate hate HAAATE PDA. I think they would sooner beat the shit out of or get their shit entirely wrecked by someone than be caught dead holding hands in public. Anyways here's my one thousand drawings of them stacked on top of each other and all tangled up casual-intimacy style all comfy cozy in bed or lounging in a bigass fancy chair they've decided yeah we can share that. We can both fit. We'll make it work.

#TRULY. I JUST WANTED TO SHARE THIS NOTE LMFAOOOOO THIS IS WHAT CAPTURED ME #also from yesterday/greater context was that doodle #intimacy/interpersonal issues georg. #which is WHY i think it is so fun and rewarding to draw them actually being close like . #it's not 'he would not fucking do that' it's IT TOOK. SO FUCKING MUCH. FOR THEM TO DO THAT. #esppppp casual intimacy i am SUCH a casual intimacy bitch. esp if it feels more like friendship than romance #they have to be best friends and they have to be weird about it and it's the most normal thing in the world. actually. #you wouldn't get it 😤😤😤 #fe alfonse #moe tag #summoner oc #my notes

[frostbitedoesart]

thanks for reblog

No problem!! <3 It's kind of rough on Tumblr for artists who post original, non-fandom artwork, especially if they're just starting out, so we should definitely help each other in any way we can 💗💗💗💗

#like I recently posted a 20 minute doodle of Pinkie Pie from MLP #and within days it's gotten more notes than all my other posts #y'know. Like of art I've spent hours of my life on and was infinitely more passionate about #don't get me wrong #I really do appreciate people taking a lil bit of time to like and reblog that post #but it really does go to show that to an extent the amount of TIME put into something doesn't matter as much as what fandom it's in #and if it's NOT from a fandom you're just kind of fucked #small piece of advice for you: #interact with other people's posts more! #even if it's just like leaving a comment or something #it helps alert people of your existence and gets people to check your profile/interact with you #like how you following my blog led to me reblogging your commisions!!! #that's all from me though #best of luck! #anyway extra tags that you can ignore// #frostbitedoesart #artists on tumblr #small artist #small artists

[magpiesbones]

.

#okay tbh I did think howl!Agott was going to be like. a three note post. I didn’t even redesign the howl outfit. #It’s not even rendered!! The background is a screenshot!! #this is like. personally embarrassing oh my god. The proportions are off!! I spent the most time fucking with the perspective and anatomy #Hell I spent the same anmout of time trying to find a fucking screenshot for the background as I did coloring. This is not my best work #Line work and colors took me. maybe an hour. Combined. #and it’s so SKETCHY!! augh #doodled her to get myself warmed up to ACTUALLY figure her head out and maybe do the fic a bit more but like. Aaa??? #Agott my delightful genderful child. Baby butch. All howls have gotta have a bit of gender going on

[vargaslovinghours]

Gosh I am so in love with the dating sim idea <33

Partially because I'm interested in computer programming and partially because, like, the ✨dynamics✨ man!!

The idea of Scriabin internally struggling between "I don't *hate* this person" and "This person trying to steal Edgar from me >:0" is just asdf-

What type of endings would there be?

Could you befriend one/both and not go as far as dating?

Could you date both?

Also love love love the UI concept art so much like the yarn-themed dialogue box and hearts system is so creative aaa

Sorry if this is a lot of questions just <333 going feral over this concept <33

Haha no no, no problem at all ♪ We’re both on the same page here, I love the design side of games, backend stuff is super fascinating to me ♫ Plus I just super love the idea of them in a Dating Sim ah ♥

It sounds like a whole heap’a your questions are answered in my first post in the Dating Sim tag :D

However, since I have The Most fun imagining what it’d be like to write/play a Vargas Dating Sim, I will take this opportunity to talk about it more lol:

As you can see in the Endings flow chart, yes, there are a bunch of different endings, all based on the ✨dynamics✨ that the Player pursues with each of the Vargases. In my current draft there’s not a way to date both exactly - at least, you can’t date both behind the other’s back, they will always be generally aware of the relationship status the other has with the Player, Scriabin moreso than Edgar, but Scriabin can’t help but gloat and they talk in their own scenes, so Edgar still knows. You can positively pursue both of them though, which leads to its own ending!

(You can keep both of them at ~5 ♥s and under, but that will still culminate in the Neutral Ending; at least one of them has to be at 7+ ♥s to get a different Positive ending; so, yes but no but also yes??)

You can also deepen your relationship with one over the other! Those, of course, lead to the Bad and Worst Endings, who could’ve guessed :3c Those are some of my favourites, because who’s “Bad” ending it is really depends on the perspective - the Bad (Edgar) Ending is one of Scriabin’s better Endings, as far as his manipulation and possessiveness is concerned. It’s definitely a Bad Ending for the Player tho lol

While the Best Ending doesn’t get as messed up as the Bad Endings (I mean - ideally lol), there is still definitely a lot of tumultuous emotions! They have to share the Player with each other, and each other with the Player, at least to better get to know each other! Scriabin isn’t the only one who feels possessive, even in routes where the player gets closer to Edgar there are still a lot of mixed feelings about being away from Scriabin, even as he starts to get more violent. They’re always weird about each other, they’re the ultimate package deal! 💕

#💟 #Dating Sim #I am once again shouting my love to Zarla's original doodles that inspired me to think about this concept more #I cannot sing their praises high enough they are unparalleled in my heart ♪ Big inspire #Hopefully this answered most of your questions about the thought I've put into it at least haha ♪ #I really do love talking about it I ended up infodumping to smol about it like a week ago because it's still floating in my mind #I jokingly summed it up as the Vargas Fuck/Marry/Kill game lol // #She also seemed really amused at the Best Ending haha ♥ It made me happy #I'm also very glad you like my UI designs! I like them quite a lot as well :D #I was a little sad because I didn't look over my notes very carefully for Requestober so I forgot the yarn trim on the text box itself :') #But it's mostly there so that's the important part ♪ #It's just such a fun concept ahhh ♪♫

[saturnsuv]

!!!

#i havent subjected everyone to a pathetic personal post about guy i like in a while so here you go <3 #while i was on hold on the phone at work i got bored and started doodling #and it wound up being a sticky note that said FUCK surrounded by flowers and hearts and sparkles #then after i got off the call i put the sticky note on guy i like’s arm and said i drew this for you #and he looked at it and laughed and tried to put it under the keyboard at the computer in the back #and i told him not to do that bc someone might see it so then he took a picture of it instead #the fact he took a picture of it rly makes me nuts besties #unrelated but we have these new like. training modules that they’re making us do at work #but i was busy calling people on the phone so i couldn’t look at it right then #so when guy i like and two of our other coworkers were going to look at the module #guy i like said ‘oh let’s log into yours so we can watch the video for you since you’re busy’ #idk it was just very sweet to me that he thought to do that #he also called me a criminal mastermind better than the regina george takedown in mean girls and that’s the best compliment ive ever gotten #sam speaks

[rxmye]

" 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 "

𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 — you're his entire world, his only thought, the very illness that has corrupted his mind and body . . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / mentions of sleep medication / pathetic yandere / suggestive content / a character slightly aimed towards people with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: edited, Lucas first fanfic is out !! . . click here to read it !! <3

He was someone with fleeting attraction—yet a hopeless romantic, who'd spend most of his class time doodling away in his notebook instead of taking actual notes, writing these scenarios that played out in his mind—tired hazy doodles of small characters, blurry lines of writing, scribbled out text, as he struggled to stay awake—

He had never had a proper sleeping schedule, and if he did he'd never stick to it, a night owl who often faced the consequences of his own actions, sleep medication was something he was all too familiar with, the feeling of being restless without sleep, his nerves always on edge, dark circles under his eyes made him feel insecure, and alarmingly out of character.

He felt something touch his back, he froze, nerves all over the place, a pit growing in his stomach as he turned almost instinctively to face whoever touched him, pushing their hand off harshly . . . "Hey Yoichi . . what's up with you man, why so aggressive?!" Lucas asked . . and then he froze, letting out a nervous and rather embarrassed chuckle, "Ah—um . . sorry Lucas . . just feeling a little tired that's all", he replied softly, voice barely coming out.

To be quite honest, when he first saw you, Yoichi thought nothing of it, he sat at the very back and you for some reason, sat in front of him, not that he minds, you're presence covered him from the teachers eyesight, which allowed him to do whatever he wanted, he was even able to drift off to sleep during that period.

However, it wasn't until he found himself, drawing tiny versions of you in his notebook, little doodles, pink ink staining the paper as he hearted your initials together—his name then your last name . . your name then his last name . . . names of future children—that he realized he was crushing on you . . . big time.

His emotions was fleeting, it had always been, he didn't think much of it . . it was just a simple crush, everyone has one of those, and they go away with time.

Yoichi was a punctual student—and a well organized one—he'd rarely forget his books, much less the notebook with his embarrassing doodles of him and you, it would ruin his image to be quite honest . . yet for some reason he had forgotten it in class today, it could've been his ever-growing restlessness due to a lack of sleep, or maybe the caffeine that's been fucking with his head since early in the morning—he sighed—knocking himself out of his own thoughts, as he twisted the doorknob, hopefully the teacher left the class unlocked.

The door was open, to his utter relieve . . . wait . . . "y/n?", he spoke, taken aback—you were soundly asleep on your desk—you looked so at . . peace . . . calm? . . . Nothing could describe the emotions he felt as he approached you, slowly reaching over to his desk and grabbing his notebook, quickly stuffing it in his backpack—he should go . . , that would be the best course of action . . .

Yet he couldn't . . . he knelt down on the floor, leaning his head on the desk, starring at your face, looking into every curve and line, in his eyes every imperfection just made you even more perfect, the pattern of your breath was soothing to his otherwise restless mind, a soothing scent radiated off of you, and for the first time in months, he felt sleepy . . . like he could sleep without a care . . . everything felt so right. . .—nothing felt displaced or disoriented.

That was the day that started it all, it seems, Yoichi had started forming something that was akin to obsession, he couldn't sleep at all without you—a piece of you—something that reminded him of that calming scent that he felt that day, you calmed his overdriven nerves, you halted his troubles for more than a fleeting moment.

Yoichi knew what he was doing was odd, especially when he found himself picking up the wrapper you threw out, and taking inhaling it, his eyes growing half lidded—he felt like a drug addict—drunk off of you . .

Fleeting touches would tick off his ever delusional mind, a small compliment could set him on overdrive and in the back of his head he knew he was growing addicted, a pit in his stomach grew as he felt slightly disgusted with himself, with the obscene and rather degrading things he'd do, just to get something touched by you.

Lucas stared at his friend, who seemed no better than dead, "Are ya' okay?" he asked, looking him up and down, "You look like a train-wreck", he stated half out of concern and half out of clear disdain and possibly curiosity, "Is it normal?", Yoichi spoke up, taking a gulp of air as he continued, "to want someone so badly that it's hard to explain—like—a part of me feels obsessed, like I feel like carving my own heart out and showing them just to prove my love wont be enough—they could claw out my fingernails—and from where I'm standing, I'd still look at them with only love . . . but at the same time I feel disgusted with the feelings I feel—", Yoichi kept blabbering on, until his friend shushed him, taking a sip of his drink as he jokingly replied, "I mean . . if you love them that much, then their clearly the one . . ."

Yoichi blanked out, as Lucas chuckled, he has no idea how much of his teasing words Yoichi would take to heart that day nor of it's lasting consequences . . .

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

#yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere rambles #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere #yandere male #male yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #male yandere #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #oc x reader #yan oc #yan x reader #yancore #soft yandere #x reader #oc #fanfic #fic #yandere fic #yandere male x reader #yandere fanfiction #gender neutral reader

[sky-scribbles]

Thinking about Gale's spellbook.

Not the old one, the one he carried when he was Gale, the Wizard of Waterdeep - a gorgeous, leather-and-silver bound thing that bulged with a lifetime's worth of accumulated knowledge. There were spells in there penned over wine and cheese with Elminster; in a flow state that bordered on the spiritual after a night with Mystra, remembering her instruction, the feel of her soul against his. That spellbook was the testament to his success, the proof that he had excelled beyond the excellent -

And then Mystra cut him off from the Weave, and it all become meaningless.

His own runes, rendered incomprehensible; beautiful spell-glyphs that turned from condensed power and knowledge to worthless pieces of art. He has to start anew, from the ground up - reforging his connection to the Weave without Mystra's guidance (without her, without), relearning schoolboy spells. Humiliatingly easy magic, the kind he used to do like it was breathing, except this time he has to study and work and try and try, Tara urging him on with firm but gentle words.

He learns different spells, now. Mage Armour, Shield, Magic Missile. Not the kind of spells that he'll ever need on a day-to-day basis; spells that'll keep him alive long enough when he makes an exodus to the depths of the Underdark, or the centre of some desert wastes, and goes supernova.

The new spellbook is a plainer thing, small enough to fit in a robe pocket (because extradimensional storage spaces are no longer things he can make with a thought). And then he's snatched by a Nautiloid, and... honestly, he'd swear that the spine just wants to hold onto blood-spatters, no matter how many times he cleans them out. The pages get spotted from all the times he's had to flick them open in driving rain; the corners get creased from being shoved in and out of his robes.

And absolutely nothing can protect it from the unstoppable force of his friends.

Karlach nearly sends the whole thing up in flames one night by gesticulating a bit too wildly. Wyll laughs too hard one night and sprays wine all over Gale's new notes on Abjuration. Scratch picks up the entire thing and runs off with it when Gale's back is foolishly turned, and it's only a stern talking-to from Halsin that saves the whole thing from becoming a chew toy.

Smiley cat faces, doodled on the pages in Yenna's untidy hand. A helpful comment from Karlach on the Fireball page: 'AKA FUCK YEAH LET'S GO!!!!' A few lines of Wyll's perfect handwriting, a memento from a long discussion about how infernal energies could enhance fire magic; a few observations from Shadowheart on warding enchantments. Some terse comments on psionic magic from Lae'zel that Gale finds himself weaving into his Shields, and they do seem to hold up a little better now. (Other hands on his spellbook! Touching the pages he carries close to his heart! The man he was would never have believed it.)

He thinks of them all, as he writes new spells. Counterspell, because nothing will touch them. Spells that will carry his people from danger and shield them from harm. He watches Astarion pace before the fire one night and inscribes Sunbeam with a cold smile of promise to Cazador; he glowers at Mizora over the edge of the pages as he ponders what spells would be best suited to killing a devil.

A wizard's spellbook, Elminster told him once, is a reflection of their soul. Gale of Waterdeep's spellbook was a marvel; perfect and polished and resplendant. Untouched by any hands but his own.

Gale Dekarios's spellbook is battered and beloved, covered on every page with the fingerprints of his friends.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #i just have feelings about wizards' spellbooks! yes my shadowgast is showing! #sky's writing

[strawbeerossi]

The Ballad Of Dr. Reid

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: When you zone out in the middle of one of your lectures, your professor asks you to stay after class to check in on you.

Content/Warnings: Power imbalance, Professor/Student, age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), minor hand kink, porn with little plot, heated kissing, fingering, spit, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (kinda, right?), reader gets a facial

Word Count: 1.9K

Kinktober Day Two: Power Imbalance

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

You’d always had a liking for criminal justice, so taking the courses in college seemed like a no brainer. You really liked Criminology 1424. It was an interesting class, one that piqued your interest far more than the other classes you were in the process of taking. 

In addition to being genuinely interested in the subject, you were more interested in the professor of the class; Dr. Spencer Reid.

He was soft spoken for the most part, a little on the awkward side but that was okay. He was experienced from his fifteen years in the Behavioral Analysis Unit and would use cases he’d faced for examples in his lessons. His lectures were long and albeit pretty boring at times but you had no problem watching the man at the front of class talk, his hands emphasizing just how prepared he was for the topic at hand. You’d realized that there were topics he definitely enjoyed getting into, his body language and his overexaggerated gestures being proof of it.

You’d always thought the FBI and the darkness he faced on a near daily basis would exhaust him, make him harder and more stoic, the seriousness of the world on his shoulders. No, instead he offered smiles, helped any student who came to him, and was painfully oblivious to the amount of young men and women auditing the class just to admire the attractive professor.

It was like any other lecture, delving into the intricacies of triggers and what could bring them on. It was a lesson he liked, judging by his animation this evening. You’d done your best to keep up, to get plenty of notes jotted down due to this being on the impending final. However, you were too busy drooling over the curly haired beauty, his veined hands flailing with each word that fell from his lips. 

What you wouldn’t give to have those hands on your body, to feel the gentle touch of your professor as he was letting his fingertips memorize all the dips and curves of your body, to familiarize himself with how to pleasure you.

His hands on-

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

You were snapped from your thoughts. The sound of your name falling from his mouth was like sweet honey, drizzling over your eardrums as you could feel your face heat up from embarrassment. Great. Now the whole class is looking at you. 

“Y-Yes, I’m okay. I’m sorry, just, uh, not all the way here today.” You explained, slowly looking back down at the notebook covered in scribbles. So much for getting any work done today. 

The class passed by painfully slowly after that. Even the attractive man in front of you didn’t seem to speed up the clock. You’d sat quietly, giving up with the notes aspect as you’d switched to doodling on the edges of your notebook. You’d done your best to try and be one of the first ones out whenever your professor dismissed the class full of students. However your shoulders slumped with defeat when the sea of bodies filed out first.

There was no clean getaway.

“Y/N, do you mind staying back and having a chat?”

Fuck.

Mustering up enough courage to face the man you’d gotten distracted fantasizing about, you were approaching his desk. Even up close, he was a beautiful man. Even in his early to mid forties, he still looked delicious. “I apologize for getting distracted earlier. I was just-”

“Looking at me? Y/N,” There was a deep breath that left his lips. “You can tell me if this tie is ugly. My coworker Penelope insisted I wear it. I love her but some of her ties aren’t really my style.” 

He was joking, easing the awkwardness and the unknown tension filling the lecture hall. Maybe he’d been feeling the same way about you. He looked at you a lot as is, however you may have just been in a delusional state of mind right now. There was a hope that Spencer would reciprocate those feelings. “It’s not.. It’s a little ugly but that, uh, wasn’t what I was, uh, staring at.” You decided to just be honest. Worst you can do is transfer out of the class. 

Or run away to a new city, start over again at a new university. 

“Really?” 

“Really. Sir, with the risk of coming across as inappropriate, it’s hard to pay attention to you at the front of the class. It’s not a bad thing. You just always look…” You paused and gave him a once over. “Really nice.” You spoke. 

There was a blush that spread across the older man’s cheeks, an eyebrow raising. “You think so? At risk of sounding even more inappropriate and unprofessional,” He paused as he leaned forward a bit, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s hard to teach when you come in looking as beautiful as you do. Makes me just wanna stare at you the whole class.” 

The words were lower than usual, a rush of warmth going straight to your core from the mere compliment. 

“Plus when you come in with a new lipstick shade..” His lanky body was pushing off the desk before he approached, his fingers resting gently under your chin before tilting it upwards. “It drives me insane. You may think I don’t notice but…” This was crossing the boundary of teacher and student, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. “I do. Makes me think of these pretty lips wrapped around me, those eyes glossed over with pleasure.” He hummed, chuckling at the way your breath hitched, eyes locking with his. 

You didn’t know what came over you at this point, however you could help yourself as you were launching yourself forward, mouth smashing against his in a quick kiss that he seemed enthusiastic to reciprocate. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling your frame closer to his chest as the kiss filled with desire and hunger was escalating.

The next thing you knew, you were being sat against the desk at the front of the lecture hall, your eyes widening. “H-Hold on, don't you have another class??” She asked immediately as she let her hands squeeze the broad shoulders. “Yeah, in twenty minutes.” Spencer responded, hands trailing to the waistband of the pants you were wearing. The thought of having sex in a hall where anyone could walk in at any point was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You weren’t one for exhibitionism normally, however you weren’t gonna turn this down. 

“Fuck it.” Your words made a grin spread across Spencer’s face, his lips pressing a chaste kiss against your lips while working on getting your pants pulled off, panties following in one swift motion. Licking his hand, the older male didn’t waste any time before moving the wet hand between your legs, his spit working as lube as he wanted to make sure you were wet enough for the deed. Lord knows that he didn’t want you tearing at any point. 

The feeling of his fingers brushing against your clit had already sent electricity through your body, a light gasp escaping your lips. 

“Such a pretty girl, bet you haven’t ever had any man pay attention to you, huh? I can only imagine you’ve been with selfish little boys who haven’t even attempted to bring you to orgasm..” He sighed playfully, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips once more. He was addicted, drinking in your moans as his thumb was massaging your clit, one finger pushed deep in your weeping hole while he was working you open.

This was definitely something new, you didn’t really sleep around so the few times you’d engaged in casual sex were quick, rushed. You sure as hell knew that the past couple of dudes couldn’t even find your clit. You were intoxicated on his touch the small movements he made eliciting moans and gasps into his mouth. With your hips rolling against the touch, you let your eyes flutter shut. 

“As much as I hate to stop, we’ve got fifteen minutes and I’m dying to be inside of you.” He murmured against your lips, his hands moving to undo his belt before tugging his pants down his legs, boxers being pulled down soon after. The sight of his hard cock had your full attention. “Ready? You’re sure you want to keep going?”

“Yes!” You rasped, making him chuckle while his large hands were spreading your thighs apart, letting a trail of his spit fall onto your pussy before he was giving himself a few tugs. The thick tip of his shaft was spreading the spit onto your cunt, a hum falling from his lips. So pretty. God, I hate having to crunch time like this.” He groaned while letting the thick head push into your hole, your mouth falling open at the delicious burn that came with the stretch of your inner walls. If only you knew about your professor’s cock sooner.. All the stress of studying for quizzes would’ve been a million times easier.

His hips snapped without warning, a loud moan falling from your mouth while the male couldn’t help but chuckle as he quickly clasped a hand over your mouth. “Shh. Can’t have anyone hearing you.” His hand barely did justice to hide your moans and cries as his hips continued to roughly thrust, the desk rocking steadily with each movement.

“Fuck. It’s like this pussy was made for me, look at the way she takes my cock and is desperate for more. So greedy.” The vulgar words from your otherwise sweet and seemingly innocent man’s mouth was strangely attractive, attractive to a level that your inner walls were spasming around the hard cock nestled deep inside of you, so far you felt like he was hitting your cervix. Then again, you could’ve just been exaggerating. 

With your fingernails digging into his clothed shoulders, you could feel a knot in your stomach, tightening so tight that you felt like the floodgates were going to burst open. 

“I-I’m gonn-” You stuttered, words muffled against his hand while Spencer nodded. 

“I’m almost there. Cum for me.” His words were husky, tone dripping with ecstasy as he let out a low groan. 

As your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, the both of you were letting out a mixture of groans, mons and even a few whimpers slipping from the older man’s lips. It was all too much, finally letting the dam break as you were letting your head fall back, mouth agape as your thighs were shaking, your creamy arousal making a ring around his cock.

There was a little whine at the emptiness you felt when his cock wasn’t inside of you, the male opting to gently move you from the desk before putting you on your knees. “Look at you. Fuck. Stick your tongue out for me. Make sure you close your eyes too. I don’t wanna give you any infections.” Even in a huffing and panting mess, he looked out for you.

Doing as you were told, you let your mouth fall open while your eyes fluttered shut, the male groaning at the sight as he roughly fisted at his cock. There was only a few pumps before his cock was twitching, it being his turn for his head to fall back as he was painting your face with his spent. The load was a lot more than you expected.

Maybe he needed this just as bad as you did. 

As the act was coming to an end, Spencer was trying to catch his breath while tugging up his pants and boxers. He’d retrieved a few tissues from his desk before leaning down to wipe your face, a light hum leaving his lips. “Maybe you can talk to me about some extra notes you could add to your doodle book. Say over coffee tomorrow morning?”

“Deal.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #strawbeerossi kinktober 2023 #dr reid #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid thoughts #spencer reid au #spencer reid scenario

[nervousimposter]

Eddie started finding notes in his locker his sophomore year. The first couple of them, he just tossed without reading. He didn’t need to read what those asshole bullies wanted to say about him. But curiosity won out after two weeks of constant notes and he finally opened one. It was the single most impactful thing he’d ever read. 

I think you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. 

He kept that note. And every other note he got from that point on. If anyone were to ask Eddie what he regretted most in his life, it would be those two weeks of notes he tossed without reading. Ten slips of paper with unknown writing that he wishes he could get back. Add them to his ‘mystery boys notes’ box. And he was a mystery, the note writer. Anonymous. Unknown. Impossible to catch. 

Eddie held out for a month. A whole month before he decided to stage a stake out. He watched his locker like a hawk. In between classes, during classes, lunch, after school and even one absolutely horrible day where he came in an hour before school started. But the mystery boy had to be invisible. He never saw anyone approach his locker but his daily note was always there. And Eddie; poor, unfortunate, infatuated Eddie dealt with mystery boys’ notes from ‘82 to ‘85. Four agonizing years of the most heart-warming, loving notes. 

I wish I was as brave as you.

Did you change your shampoo? Your hair looked so soft today.

God, your eyes have to be the biggest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen. So pretty.

I like how long your hair is getting. 

Saw you walking down the hall today and I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more. 

They started cute. Compliments here and there, even a doodle every once in a while. Hearts and smiley faces. But as the months and years went by, the mystery boy got deeper. Confessions and secrets. 

I think if I had a different dad, we would’ve been best friends.

Can you fall in love with someone you’ve never talked to?

I dream about us. 

I’m a boy. I’m sorry.

I want to hold your hand. Those rings are something else. 

I saw you trying to catch me. Adorable.

I wish I could take you on a date. Not give a shit what my dad would say or what people would think. 

I wish I could be brave enough to talk to you. 

You’re still the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.

I’m graduating this year. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. I think I’m going to try to figure out a way to keep dropping these off next year. I don’t want you to forget about me.

The notes didn’t continue when the school year started. Eddie was embarrassed to admit he cried that first night. He wasn’t sure how the mystery boy was going to be able to get the notes to him but he fully believed it was going to happen. He went five weeks with no daily note in his locker. And then, it showed up on a Monday. He almost missed it, the tiny slip of paper. 

Sorry this took so long. Had to figure out how I was going to sneak these in here. I don’t think I’ll be able to call you pretty every day of the week this time around but I’m going to try my best! 

And mystery boy was right. The notes were always there on Monday. Just Monday. But Eddie didn’t complain. One note a week after five weeks of nothing almost had his heart bursting from his chest. It also narrowed down his search. Sort of. Mystery boy was either coming in on those Mondays to drop off the note, sneaking in on the weekends when the school was empty OR after school on Fridays. And look, he’s failed to graduate high school two times in a row now but he wasn’t stupid. Did it take him three months after the notes to start again for him to realize who it was? Yes but to be fair, for two of those months it was Eddie wallowing in denial. 

Five weeks into school was when he restarted Hellfire. Three weeks before that was when he brought in those new little freshman sheepies. The same freshman sheepies that got picked up by Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who graduated last year. Steve Harrington who he catches staring at him from his beemer in the parking lot every Friday night before he takes the kiddies home. Steve who he categorizes as someone who is so far out of his league that it just couldn’t be him. But it’s been three months and there isn’t any other former Hawkins high student running around in or near the school. And now that Eddie’s almost certain Steve has been mystery boy these past few years, he can’t wait. He’s been in love with a figure made out of slips of paper for four years and his nonexistent patience has truly run thin.  

He calls for a break 15 minutes before they normally end their sessions. Tells the boys he needs to run to the bathroom and almost sprints out the door. His locker sits in the hallway just around the corner of the drama room. The door closing shut echos through the empty hallways, alongside the squeaks coming from his shoes as he hustles towards his locker. He freezes as soon as he turns the corner. 

Steve probably only had 30 seconds after hearing the door open and shut to process what he was going to do. He could’ve run or hid, maybe pretend like he just needed the bathroom while he waited. But Eddie watched him pause as they made eye contact instead. Watched as Steve looked him up and down. Watched him relax and lean back against the lockers behind him with a lazy smirk. His arm slowly moved up and Eddie could see a slip of paper held between his fingers. Steve didn’t break eye contact with him at all as he proceeded to shove the paper between the vents of his locker. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Staring. Broken when Steve pushed himself off the wall and walked towards him. He didn’t stop. Side stepped around Eddie before they could collide. A faint brush of his fingers along the back of his hand as he walked past him. And Eddie just watched him pass. Just like he watched him slip that note in his locker, he watched Steve walk back down the hall and out the front doors.

He waited only five seconds after the doors closed behind Steve before he jogged over to his locker. Grabbed the note and shoved it into his pocket before running back over to the drama room. Told the guys that they stopped at a decent spot and would meet again next Friday. Walked with them to the parking lot to head home. To catch a glimpse of Steve. And there he was, sitting in his beemer, staring again. This time though, Eddie smiled at him. He smiled at him and pulled the note out of his pocket. Opened it right there in the parking lot while he stared back at Steve. It only took him a few seconds to glance down to read. And as soon as he did, he threw his head back and laughed. Cackled really. He looked back at the beemer and saw Steve with the widest grin. Watched him lift his fingers off the steering wheel and wiggle them at him before he started pulling out of the lot. He looked back down at the note in his hand and chuckled again. Who knew Steve Harrington knew DnD well enough to draw a perfect rendition of an eight sided dice?

Wanna go on a d8? - Steve Harrington xxx-xxx-xxxx

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fic

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,804

Notes: This is going to be a good one you guys 💙 (yes I know I have a fic titled this already but it’s too good not to reuse, they’re not related btw)

_________________________________________

“I think that’s the last one,” you sigh, setting down a cardboard box labeled Living Room on the stack in the middle of the floor. It’s not heavy—filled with decorative pillows for the cheap futon couch shoved haphazardly against the wall—but the tower of boxes sways precariously and your roommate, Feyre, darts forward to reorganize them from before they all go tumbling down.

You and your roommate had been very organized at the start of your move, putting boxes into piles for which rooms they belonged to, but as the hot sun beamed down and the temperature outside rose, so did your tempers. The process ended with trying to get everything into your new fourth floor apartment as quickly as possible, which was a nearly impossible feat, due to the slow moving elevator.

Feyre sighs, hands on her hips as she surveys the mess of boxes. Neither of you packed lightly—a mistake you’d made the year previous too, and promised not to make again—the both of you refused to hire a moving service, intent on the fact that you could do all the heavy lifting yourselves. 

That definitely had been a mistake.

Panting a little, Feyre shoves the strands of gold-brown hairs clinging to her forehead away, sticky with sweat. The hairs at her nape curl away from her neck, and you’re so glad that she grew out those awful bangs over the summer. Now you don’t have to listen to her complain about how they’d be plastered to her head with sweat. The loose collar of her cropped shirt is damp, and she uses the hem to wipe at the perspiration beading at her hairline. “Fucking finally,” she moans, “I need a drink.”

“Alcoholic or energy?” you tease, but it’s not funny. You’re drained, and all you want to do is collapse on the navy futon that barely fits two, no matter how uncomfortable it is. But you’re hot, clothes irritating your skin from where they’re glued with sweat and your arms and legs burn with effort. A cold shower, tall glass of something icy, and a few hours napping will do you well. A grimace works its way onto your red face, “Tell me there’s air conditioning in this place.”

“Already on,” Feyre sighs, stalking into the kitchen. You follow after her, dodging boxes, and watch as she rips open the refrigerator door and shoves her head inside. It’s completely empty and you wince, knowing that it’s going to be a long weekend while you go shopping and unpack everything before the fall semester starts in a week.

You want to stop by the local art supply too, to gather the last of the material you need for your classes this year. It’s probably why you and Feyre have so many boxes; half of the ones adorning your apartment are stuffed with art supplies: brushes and paints of all varieties from oils to acrylics, graphite pencils and kneaded erasers, canvases both blank and filled. You swear there’s even an entire box dedicated to sketchbooks filled with random doodles and scribbled ideas for assignments that never turned into anything great. Feyre hadn’t been happy when she’d seen you’d left that box for her to carry up.

When Feyre’s had her fill of the crisp air, she hands you a bottle of water from the freezer. It’s nowhere near as cold as you’d like it yet. You’d run into the gas station to get a few bottles and candy bars while she filled up the tank of the U-Haul for your last stretch or the drive. It hadn’t occurred to either of you to grab something with more sustenance until this very moment.

“Ugh,” you groan, choking down the room-temperature water. It helps a little to soothe your parched throat, but nowhere near enough. “Do you have any money left in your account? We should Door Dash something for dinner, and call it an early night.”

“An early night?” Feyre retorts, making a face as she takes a sip of her own water. “We have a lot of unpacking to do. And our beds aren’t even set up yet.” 

“Fuck us,” you sigh, leaning against the marble. The stone is cool where it seeps through your thin shirt, and you ache to rip off your clothing and press your burning skin to it in an attempt to cool yourself off. “Let’s just find the boxes with the pillows and blankets and sleep in the living room, Fey. C’mon, it’ll be like when we were young again! Except now we’re old enough to buy alcohol.” You waggle your eyebrows at your roommate and she cracks a wry grin. “Well, almost old enough, but those fake ID’s Tarquin got us work like a charm anyway.”

“Fine,” Feyre relents, “Dibs on first shower, though.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

While Feyre uses all of the hot water, despite it being nearly ninety degrees outside—blasphemous for the end of August in the middle of Southern California—you take the chance to move the U-Haul from where you’d double-parked it outside of your new apartment building. Thankfully, you and Feyre had saved up enough money from working at an Art Camp for children this summer to have both of your cars shipped to school. It was cheaper to rent a truck and move all of your belongings yourselves than to drive down and let a moving company do it, plus, you and Feyre had wanted to road trip this summer but didn’t have the funds. You both had decided there was no better time for it—until you could properly afford one—than this.

You scroll aimlessly through your social media on the way down, the elevator so slow and creaky that you and Feyre opted to take the stairs for most of your journey. Bigger things like your beds, the futon, and the tv had been squashed into the tiny elevator and taken up with prayers it wouldn’t break down. You can’t help but glance up at the certificate that says the elevator is in running order until its next inspection in two years. 

“Is that forged, George Brown?” you mutter, squinting at the paper displayed in the corner. It’s frayed at the edges and yellowing, so you’re not all that sure this elevator has been inspected when it says it has.

It comes to a jerky halt that makes you sway when it hits the lobby. It’s as nice a building as you can afford on your budget, but the both of you will have to find part-time jobs as soon as school starts up, so that you have money to buy alcohol and food and supplies. Feyre’s older sister, Nesta, had lived here with her friends Gwyn and Emerie during their undergrad years, but they’ve moved on from shitty apartment buildings riddled with horny college students to renting a quaint house in town while working on their masters degrees.

When the doors to the elevator slide open you slip out as fast as possible, a shudder working its way up your spine. You wonder how many times it’s broken down, and you’d hate to be in there alone if something like that happened. Maybe you’ll take the stairs from now on unless you’re with someone.

The lobby of the building is small. There’s a front desk in which no one ever sits, as if the building used to be sophisticated once upon a time and a doorman used to occupy the space. Mailboxes pinned to the wall line the area behind the counter, and there sits a garbage can stuffed full with envelopes and more likely than not empty bottles of alcohol and take-away, maybe even a used condom or two.

It’s muggy down here, more so than your apartment that the landlord hadn’t turned on the air conditioning when he knew you’d be showing up today. Whatever, you hadn’t had to see the greasy man, he’d left the keys on the counter for you and Feyre to find when you’d arrived, and you were more than thankful for that.

You brush away some of the hairs that have come loose from your ponytail as you cross the lobby. The hazards of the U-Haul are blinking at a steady rate, the skies turning darker with the looming night. It had taken you and Feyre all day to unpack the truck, and you’re returning it tomorrow when your cars come in, so you need to move it to a normal spot for the night. 

Pushing open the door, your steps falter as someone brushes past you like a shadow, nearly hitting your shoulder with theirs. Your brows furrow and you turn to toss a comment about how rude they are but the words dry up in your throat. 

He’s tugging off a motorcycle helmet and you can’t help but watch the way his biceps bulge against his skin tight black t-shirt. The muscles of his broad back glide like butter beneath the fabric as he moves and you can’t help but let your gaze travel down his spine to his tight waist, dipping into dark jeans.

His thick soled boots thump loudly as he stalks through the door, stopping at the mailboxes to check if he has any letters. The tiny door opens with a squeak that has you snapping back into your body, stunned by his musculature. This man is a god of his own league. A masterpiece of perfectly crafted body parts and tones. He has an angular nose and long, dark lashes matching his disheveled hair. He runs his fingers through it and shoves the helmet under his armpit as he digs through his mailbox. Your fingers twitch to dig out your sketchbook and pencils from the box upstairs.

You force your gaze outside again, cheeks red hot with embarrassment. You were straight up ogling the man, and thankfully you’re not drooling, as you take notice while you wet your suddenly dry lips. 

You click the keys, unlocking the U-Haul, but stop short when you see that the truck is caged in, a big vintage Bronco parked behind, and a shiny motorcycle that looks like it moves faster than the speed of light wedged between the moving truck and the vehicle in front.

“Hey,” you call, ripping the door back open to the lobby. You have no doubt that the motorcycle is his, and the car behind had been there when you and Feyre had arrived this afternoon, so you don’t know whom it belongs to. “Is this your motorcycle?” 

The man is already on his way to the elevator, phone stable in his leather riding gloves as he swipes, envelopes tucked into his helmet. The elevator door screeches open and he doesn’t even bother to turn around and meet your gaze as he punches the button to his floor. “Nope.”

#azriel au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #art school au #acowar #azsazz #acotar #acomaf #azriel #midnight muse #acotar series

[moe-broey]

They should invent an OC that has a consistent easy to draw design 🙄🙄🙄🙄

I really am struggling to get to a reference sheet stage for Moe I feel like I never draw it the same way twice 😭😭 I DO think I'm onto something though. Like the dressed down outfits have gotten fairly consistent, it's just the robe that is the bane of my existence 🥲

I REALLY like this robe design though, I think it has a lot of potential! Closer to canon, but enough added touches that fits Moe's aesthetic/theming. I'm esppp proud of the design on the back!!! Also. Simplified. Askr motifs are SO AAUAGHGHGHGHGGGGHGH to draw LMFAOOOO 😅

#summoner oc #i'm so obsessed w the angelic note doodle it's everything to me. actually. #how the fuck does anyone make a fucking reference sheet though. like. #i'm cursed to draw 1000 little sketches and doodles where little things change between each drawing. #these are just the ones i think are the best so far i have like pages and pages of sketches and concepts. #i am. struggling. #i'm hitting moe with a hammer. #moe tag #my art

[steveshairychest]

thinking about Eddie and Steve's lockers being next to each other in high school and whenever he gets the chance, Eddie slips an anonymous love letter in Steve's locker so that the pretty boy thinks he has a secret admirer.

This goes on for a couple weeks. Eddie will slip a letter in Steve's locker and Steve will pull it out so gently, a smile tugging at his lips when he turns to Eddie to ask, "Munson, did you see who put this here?" And Eddie will just slam his locker shut and shrug.

"No, Harrington. Move." He'd shove past Steve, their shoulders brushing together, and he'd go about his day, ignoring the little voice in his head that tells him he has a crush on Steve fucking Harrington. Which is ridiculous, he hates Steve.

But then he starts to spend more time writing the letters. He starts to doodle little pictures of Steve on the back of the letter and he can't help the smile that breaks out on his face when Steve pulls it out of his locker and sees the drawings. "Oh my God, that's me!"

"It looks just as awful as the real you." Eddie says while peering over Steve's shoulder.

Steve jumps about 5 feet in the air and clutches the note to his chest. "Jesus, Munson, you need a bell or something." He flips the note over to read the writing, the little cursive letters had taken Eddie so long to get right. He couldn't write the note in his usual handwriting, everyone knows what his god awful handwriting looks like because the teacher shows it to the class as an example of what not to do. "Go away, you're ruining the best part of my day."

Eddie just nods dumbly and shuffles down the hallway. The notes are the best part of his day? Eddie pulls a piece of his hair in front of his face to hide his huge smile. God, he's screwed.

He writes the letters the whole time they are in school together and on Steve's last day of high school, he slips one final letter into his locker with a sigh. He's surprised no one has seen him do this over the years, he stopped being careful about it last year.

Steve opened his locker and carefully pulled the final letter out, a sad smile appearing on his face as he opened it and started to read. "Hmm."

"Hmm what, Harrington?" Eddie mused while pulling shit out of his locker. He knows exactly what caught Steve's attention.

He had signed the letter 'Love, E.' Instead of 'From anonymous.'

"Who do you know that starts with the letter E?" Steve was staring at the letter with a little frown, he turned it over to the back where Eddie had drawn a little graduation cap.

Eddie slammed his locker shut and pretended to think for a second, his heart hammering against his chest so hard it hurt. "Hmm... My name starts with an E." He said with a smirk, hoping Steve couldn't see how terrified he was.

Steve lifted his gaze to Eddie and he seemed to consider it for a moment before laughing. "Ha ha very funny, Munson." He said sarcastically as he shoved the letter in his front pocket. He pulled the rest of his stuff out of his locker and dumped it all unceremoniously into his backpack. "Well, see ya, Munson." And then he was gone.

"See ya, Steve."

**

(i have posted the first chapter of the fic !! Here's the first chapter for anyone that wants to read it! )

#GOOD MORNING #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steveddie #this was a little long lmao #long post #steddielettersau