scribbles
"( – ⌓ – ) ⎯⎯ he lets you draw on his skin, yeah thats pretty much it.
ft. malleus, vil
malleus
it was... a breach of your patience.
the lesson, was awfully boring. the more you listened to the apparent 'heroic' doings of certain individuals. the more it strips away your attentiveness to the words spilling out of professor trein's mouth. no matter how many times you will your ears to make out the incoherent lecturing of the man... it remains deaf.
so you decide to sate said boredom.
how? of course you need to bother your seatmate!
your intentions remained within the circle of yourself of course. your eyes stuck to the stray marker over your paper so you silently twisted the cap off and scribbled on your paper—then it was your palm—and now, malleus' arm.
"child of...?" man. malleus finishes in his mind, his attention suddenly snapped away at the sudden tug of his arm. definitely not his own decision to even make it move in the first place. usually it would remain stiffly beside his body like usual and even if someone tried to pry it to them it would remain still. but without his attention, his body lets you.
without another word. you peel open his fingers, palm open to you and it's a notion he allows. and he stays silent when you tug his gloves off. perhaps with a curious huff, malleus drifts closer to you. to accommodate your actions that he's yet to get an explanation for.
... and suddenly there's very bright flowers drawn on his palm.
said owner of the palm might just be toe darkest person in the room so it's quite out of place.
but it's from you so he likes it.
he peeks at it, with a fond smile on his face. I should enchant it to remain there forever. he thinks to himself, the curve of his lips growing wider at his thoughts, like he'd proud of the idea. the idea of being able to carry around something made exclusively by you might as well shove him into a cannonball and send him to cloud nine.
it's adorable. you're adorable.
his world grows a little more blue the more he stares at you. and if it weren't for the searing glances the professor sends your way malleus would just let his eyes engrave you into his memory forever, so he laments over it and reluctantly peels his gaze off you. mind speaking a thousand memories, the very same reason he somehow can't hear anything trein says.
you draw a strange looking lizard beneath his ring finger, one that looks a little like him and he thinks that you're asking him for marriage.
that can be arranged... he ponders, oblivious.
vil
drawings, doodles, painting— art. a reflection of the soul.
vil is great at makeup.
every brush on your face, a step to beauty. that is his reflection. you are his soul. he wants to make you look—no, make you feel like you're beautiful cause the canvas he's standing in front of is his greatest piece of art, he'd want to put you on the tallest pedestal there is. the grandest one just so the rest knows your beauty is parallel to none, something they can see and admire but not reach.
but he also wants to keep you in his own room, because only he knows what he felt when he painted you. only he should be the one given the grace.
this... he doesn't know what to consider.
perhaps vil should be bothered, if not then a little peeved at the several colors across his skin. a myriad of doodles, some words, and some simple drawings. a poor portrait of him is drawn next to one he assumes yours, the 'fairest' word on the right side of his hand, and flowers.
he's sure though. you're definitely no artist.
the thought cracks a smile at him, and you steal a glance midst the cool tip of the pen dancing along his skin. "I'd thought you wouldn't even let me do this," you admit, chair having been moved over closer to him so you wouldn't have any leaning problems. a suggestion by vil you gratefully took up, though you doubt it was just another excuse to have you closer.
"why?"
"dunno," you shrug. "it looks unseemly compared to you."
he huffs, flashing you a light smirk. "so my face is, hmmm..." vil ponders for a moment, and your face twists to the realization that you possibly just exposed what you think. but you suppose it isn't really a problem since it was basically common sense that vil is...
"gorgeous." you finish for him.
his aura brightens. (probably will be for the rest of the week.)
your hand retracts from him, the marker gripped between your fingers. and he takes a look at your 'art.' he doesn't know if he should consider it as one since there are a heap of sloppy lines, and the color bleeds into his skin. some smudges that you accidentally brushed against that makes it seem like a messy picture of chaos.
vil strives for perfection, but it's only natural there are flaws. to love oneself, you must love all parts. and to love you, he loves whatever the ink on his skin is.
well, what the heck.
"pass it to me," he stretches his hand, and you quirk a brow. questioning but curious so he indulges you. "I'll show you how it's done."
note. ngl idk what I wrote for vil it's currently 12 AM rn ☠ <- newer note, this has been rotting in my drafts for weeks and I couldn't decide whether to post it cause I wasn't sure about vil's but here hehehe
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spoilers for 2.1 !!!!!!!
aventurine rant, please keep in my mind that these are my own thoughts and interpretations. im extremely sleep deprived lol so im sorry if i got anything wrong
something thats been on my mind since yesterday are these lines.
from the start to me, it was very clear aventurine had self esteem/worth issues because of how he treats his own life, but the line that says “the other hand is below the table, clutching your chips for dear life” stuck out to me.
i always assumed aventurine was so incredibly confident in his luck but in reality he is afraid. he’s terrified that he’ll lose. it’s an act. he convinces himself, he fools himself, he forces himself to act like he’s confident he’ll win, when in reality even if he does win, he’s still clutching his chips under the table for dear life because of how terrified he is of losing.
that really messed with me to be honest. i feel tricked and what’s ironic is that he tricks his opponents into thinking he’s confident, and he also tricked ME the player but really, this made my heart break in two because i had absolutely no clue up until now.
so why does he act this way
all throughout his life, aventurine has had his pride stripped away. just try to imagine being in his shoes. i myself do not think i could deal with the situations he was put in. i cannot stress this enough, aventurine has a mark on his neck that screams to him that he has once belonged to someone. he has had his pride stripped away from him countless times. but it’s ironic because aventurine is introduced as a very prideful and flashy man. you start to realize the front aventurine puts on is his own way of protecting himself. it’s how he’s able to live basically. i wanna go into more detail but i will later.
as it was said before, aventurine is an uptight person who worries. he is extremely afraid of losing and he has a massive inferiority complex. aventurine may seem like a go lucky person on the outside, but in actuality he is not. he is not happy. he has no self worth, he believes he has nothing to live for, and he has no problem with throwing his life away. aventurine believes the only good thing he brings to the table is his luck.
but this brings me to my next point.
aventurine may not realize it, but he is so much more than his luck. he has so many good qualities and he doesn’t seem to realize it. even if some of it may be an act, he’s still able to pull it off. he’s still an intelligent business man who is both charming and cunning EVEN if it may be an act, those are still amazing qualities to have in his line of work.
but more importantly, aventurine chose to live. despite witnessing his family die, being a slave, and tortured, he chose to live. he chooses to. i cannot stress this enough. this man has gone through hell and back. he truly has had an incredibly difficult life to the point where my heart hurts so so badly for him. he made the decision to stay alive.
that says more than enough about his character.
and last but not least, aventurine wants one thing, and that is to be with his family. he’s witnessed horrible things in his life that no one should ever go through. he lost everyone close to him, he lost his people. he has nothing to live for and he values his life so little to the point where he has no problem with dying. the only real thing that he wants is just to see his family.
and he will one day, but in the meantime, i genuinely hope this man can find a reason to live, and ratio already gave him one just by that note. i just truly wish aventurine happiness while he lives the rest of his life.
i guess this is a topic that really hits me hard because i know all too well that choosing to live life isn’t easy sometimes and i just love aventurine.
let’s all appreciate how truly amazing his character is.
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Definitely nothing gross cause I hate stuff like that too. Im absolutely obsessed with his hands, and so I was kinda imagining an early seasons Spencer who doesn't understand why reader always stares at his hands so she shows him 🤭
If no thats okay 😅👍🏻
Oooo
I love Spencer's hands.
HAVE YOU SEEN HIS HANDS FOR THE NON BELIEVERS LIKE BROOO
CW: Lwk size difference. consent?
A/N: Mistakes? Comment. Compliments? Comment. Problems? cOmmENT!!!!
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Spencer was sat beneath you immersed in a book he bought a few days ago. You tried to follow the words but you kept getting distracted. You let put a shaky breath as your eyes followed Spencer Reid's fingers, how the flexed before flipping the page. You were so focus on his fingers you didn't hear Spencer.
NSFW BENEATH BE VERY WARNED
Spencer Reid was a damn good profiler so when he noticed your irregular breathing, dilated eyes and unresponsiveness he wondered if it was your thoughts till he noticed what you were looking at.
Rolling up his sleeved he moved closer to you.
"Angel?" he asked for the 4th time before you jerked back finally coming to.
"Huh? did you say something?" You asked as you peeled your eyes off his fingers.
"Bingle-bongle, dingle-dangle, yickety-do yickitey-dah, ping-pong, lippy-tappy, too-tah."
You blinked twice before coming to your sense, what were you doing?
His gaze on you made your cheeks feel hotter than usual.
"Why are you quoting Doctor Who?"
"My girl's not here, figured the Doctor could bring her back." You scratched the back of your neck as you looked away.
"I'm here."
"A survey conducted by the Journal of Sex Research in 2007 found that about 30% of participants reported some form of partialism."
"Partialism?"
"A type of paraphilia involving sexual interest in, or fixation with, a certain part of the body."
"I-?"
"My hands. that's your current sexual interest."
"Sorry."
"What are you sorry for?"
"I don't know for maybe sexualising your hands."
"I'm your boyfriend, I don't mind...in fact, I'm interested in how you see my hands" his words made you gulped. Spencer smiled so innocently but his actions were anything but.
One of his hands disembarked from the arm of the chair and began to trail up your neck, a trail of shivers in it's wake. You froze, your breath caught in your lungs.
"Spencer..."
"Mhmm...?"
He knew what he was doing to you. How it affected you. His index finger traced your jaw before landing on your lips.
"Open." it was a simple order. You opened your mouth before your nerve disappeared like your reasoning. His finger trailed the inside of your mouth before landing on your tongue.
"Suck." your lips like clockwork clamped down on his knuckle and like someone with their favorite candy. You sucked. Your tongue wrapping around his finger.
His eyes were locked on your face. Only the whites of your eyes were visible as you all but sucked the skin of his fingers. He was losing his control by the day and it was you he wanted to take care of.
He chuckled at your eagerness. "You like how bigger my hands are huh? dirty little thing aren't you."
The sound that came from the back of your throat was primal. You didn't say anything but no words were needed.
Spencer pulled you down to the floor, his finger still in your mouth like a leash. HIs other hand moved to your bottoms and they were gone. He removed his finger from your mouth and you felt empty.
That was before you felt his fingers in you. Throwing your head back you realised the background noise wasn't just background noise. It was you moaning the entire time. Your thighs clenched around his arm as you wriggled and writhed under him.
“Such a slut you are, hm?” his tone changed slightly causing you to rock your hips even more. Teasing your entrance with his finger you wondered if he would give you his cock. "You’re so wet.” He chuckled breathlessly, you noticed just how much he was restraining himself.
His hair falling over his eyes , slightly hiding his lust filled gaze. Before He lowered his head towards his fingers.
The next few moments were heaven. Spencer ate puss like a starving man. Your starving mam
Spencer brought you down from your high, your breasts having joined the game, you briefly wondered when you lost your shirt.
"No nerd facts?" you finally spoke your throat slightly dry.
"You want, fuck, you want a fact?" his voice was breathless and windy.
"Yes."
"You drive me crazy."
You laughed as you laid on him.
"I'm glad, but i mean an actual fact."
"Alright but stop moving your hands." You tilted your head.
"It's my turn now."
You traced the buldge in his pants. Unzipping his pants.
"People who-who..." you palmed him.
"Who what?" you asked mimicking him. Tracing the tip you watch Spencer fight to stay together.
" A-Are hand fetish-fetishist usually admire the nails-" You pressed slightly along the sides.
"Long nails? short nails?nail-polished? clear?"
"Angel..." his voice was horse.
"Alright, no questions."
"And enjoy licking or sucking one's hand or fingers and the acts made with the hand (handjobs, fingering, slapping, scratching and so on)" You moved your hair as you began to do just that.
Licking
Sucking
Nibbling
Spencer came apart minutes later all over the floor, his head falling into the chair. His chest rising slowly again. He raised his arms and brought you closer, his face disappearing slightly in your hair.
"Angel, I love you so much." he mumbled.
"I love you too Spence."
"We should get cleaned up..." he began making no motion to get up.
"We should..." slumping into him further.
"Are we getting up now?"
"Oh no, you turned me into Spaghetti legs!" you exclaimed.
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Spencer Reid smut has been served. I don't know if I like this or not but what matters is that i overcame my writers block at 2am
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