#why did i coin this you ask?

[freakinator]

if i had it my way i would love a zam/leo/clown/red/mapicc/bacon/minute/mid alliance/team next season

[campoluni]

miss clam the cuntiest chulip character

[coconut530]

I can send email 👁️

[kiwipineappleparasol]

TTYD remake Rambling -- Stuff up until the end of Chapter 2 talked about here

The TTYD remake has so much attention to detail put into it it's crazy… Like, there's the big things to improve the general experience for both newcomers and returning players; the Partner Ring and the new pipe system are much more convenient so far. And the battle tutor toad is great for practicing those tricky Stylish Moves with alot more precision than just going off Eddy's well meaning but ultimately still vague advice, considering some of these timing windows are crazy fast. Or the new partner hint system! I never really got stuck in these games, but I know that it's just a much better mechanic than going allllll the way back to have your future path read if it's something you need. Plus, I love any new dialogue for my little friends, even if they're ordering me about haha.

The layout for everything is so slick now too! And I love the fact you can unlock art and music in the menu by collecting Shine Sprites and Star Pieces -- while already useful in-game, it's just extra incentive to get them. Especially star pieces -- I really wanted to collect them in all these different areas and see the art! And it was sooooo worth it. Concept art for not only the remake, but for the original too. Stuff I've never seen before! Makes me wonder if they got it released just for this remake, yaknow? Just really cool to look through.

I love all the little things too. The new animations of course are obvious, I adore those -- they really add to the personality of the characters. But I also love stuff like how everything in the environment reacts to you, how instead of shaking bushes you crush them, being able to whack literally everyone over the head brings Such Joy …

I think Zess T uses unique cooking utensils for each recipe, which I don't believe was in the original? I think that's so cool ! Like this attention to detail is what I'm talking about. This was a completely frivolous change, but they did it anyways -- and that to me, shows the care put into this.

(Unrelated, but the animation of Mario getting trapped in the bubble in the Boggly Tree is sooooo silly… Pretty sure that was in the original but still. I enjoy Flurrie's personality too -- I never really appreciated it as a kid because I wasn't a fan of her design so I never used her. It's still definitely not my favorite haha, but I could appreciate her more now.)

Also the way they changed the dialogue about the Shadows -- I didn't want to just believe wholeheartedly that they would change the translation, but they actually did here! They didn't do a direct translation of the original Japanese version from my understanding -- opting for Beldam's transphobia to be in how she disregards the sister label but gives a very flimsy excuse for it, when it's obviously out of cruelty -- instead of outright misgendering. But Vivian saying that she just likes it when she's called their sister made me so sad… Vivian you deserve better!!! Another great thing about the new changes: you can whack Beldam over the head all you want in the overworld!

I still can't believe we're in a world where a remake with such care put into it exists for a game I thought would never be ported, let alone treated with such love. And even changing the English Translation regarding Vivian's character? I never in a hundred lifetimes would believe that would happen! It's honestly quite surreal for me.

This feels like such a love letter to the fans of this game, like an early birthday present delivered right to my door. It's honestly hard to describe how much fun I'm having with it and everything I enjoy about it -- I just wanna keep playing, haha. Chapter 3 is when I remember getting really invested in this game as a kid, for various reasons -- so we'll see if I come back for another Ramble then.

Bonus: the scene that my mom kept calling “Flurrie knocking over Mario with her boobs” And wouldn’t stop laughing about

[potatoesandsunshine]

working on this fic is like. first i have to consult a venn diagram. specifically this one which i did lose but i have the picture still

then listen to these five songs in order without pausing to establish the vibe

and then. i can work on a teeny tiny bit at a time

[spkyscry-a]

“When the fuck did a whale get in here????????????”

[yuukimiyas]

good mornie everyone!! (*´ᵕ`ㅅ) im makin a huge breakfast for you all!! in each pancake is filled w sm love & light!! order up!! ◝꒰ ´ ˘ '♡꒱

[txttletale]

imagine if you like bought a house and the realtor that sold you the house came by and did maintenance every couple months and it was a pretty good arrangement until one day they stopped doing maintenance and things started breaking them and you called them up and they were like 'surprise! we've decided what this house is really missing is a pool so we're going to build a whole new house for you that has a pool we are so excited about this pool' and you were like 'is this a deflection from your sexual harassment lawsuit you're involved in' and they were like 'the pool is going to be so cool!' and hung up and you didn't hear from them for years and then they called you up again and were like 'good news! we've built the new house, why don't you move in' and you were like 'oh, the one with the pool?' and they were like 'wellll yeah but we haven't actually installed the pool yet but when we do it's going to totally transform how you live in your house so you can see the value' and you were like 'i don't know i think i'll stay in this one' and they were like 'hmm yeah sorry actually you can't we're blowing the old house up with dynamite' and you were like 'what? why?' and they were like 'so that you're not split between your old house and the new one' and you were like 'um, fine' and you drove over to the new house and there was no pool or space for a pool and the realtor showed up to gave you the keys and you were like 'this house looks identical to the old one, i don't really understand why you did this' and they were like 'aha! you see, the old house had six rooms, this one has five!' and you were like 'that sounds worse, though' and they were like 'no you see with only five rooms it will be much easier to do maintenance on the house' and you were like 'but you haven't done that for months' and they were like 'yeah that was the old house which we've just blown up with explosives this is the new house' and you were like 'so how's that sexual harassment lawsuit going' and they leaped acrobnatically into their car like a trapeze artist and zoomed away and you went into the house and saw a coin slot on the bathroom door and called them and you could hear the background noise of a courtroom and they said 'yeah so you have to pay five dollars every time you use the bathroom now, it's our new monetization plan' and you were like 'well this is bullshit i feel like this house is just straight up worse' and they were like 'noo listen the pool is going to be so cool it's going to be so good we promise there'll be a diving board and a tiki bar and those water jets that give young people sexual awakenings' and you were like 'well okay' and they were like 'we've been building this pool for four years trust us it's going to be good' and then you didn't hear from them for a long long time except occasionally when they showed up to do maintenance and if you asked about the pool they just winked meaningfully and asked if you wanted to pay a $15/month fee for a bathroom pass giving you unlimited flushes and toilet paper. and this went on for a year until one day you got a voicemail 'dear resident. we're not going to build the pool lol' and you called them back like 'well what the fuck did you demolish my old house for' and they were like 'we actually gave up on the whole pool like two years ago but we did a whole announcement and it would have felt sooo awkward to walk it back' and you were like 'what the fuck have i been paying five dollars to use the toilet for over these last two years!' and they were like 'listen buddy if you don't like it you can buy the bathroom pass' and then they hung up on you . anyway that's what happened with overwatch 2

[yeyinde]

stalker!Simon decides to have a little fun with his favourite camgirl.

the message comes up halfway into your "show."

it's a boring night. slow. you wear a lingerie set one of your viewers sent in beneath a silk robe, all in a pretty pastel pink—cliche, but it works; an uncomfortably disgusting version of hair theory unfolding in front of your eyes—and discreetly chug wine when you twist away to grab a new toy. a series of pale pink vibrators, nipple clamps. mundane depravity for what's shaping up to be a lacklustre night.

but the money that pours in from these little shows (adult version of classic party games—hide and seek, would you rather, truth or dare) is one step closer to erasing your debts. student loans. car payments. rent. you smile so wide it aches, and put your best face on when you blink, coquettish and coy, at the camera where nameless, faceless men throw money in a ring for a scrap of your attention.

tonight's game is Simon Says. and it's supposed to be normal. boring.

but a message from a viewer named Simon (in a sea of many who cheekily changed their usernames to match the theme of the game) stands out.

Simon says... go lock your door.

you blink. between all of the Simon Says touch yourself for me baby, pull your shirt down, lemme fuck you for real it sticks out. a change in the routine.

you huff, pouting. "already did that, Simon. c'mon, gimme something else to do, honey."

another one pops up. Simon says... you shouldda got a dog.

your brows furrow. "that's not part of the game, Simon. i'm gonna move on—"

Simon says... open your door.

he's paying you handsomely. dropping coins, large amounts of money, for each message to shoot to the top. little superchats. why he isn't taking advantage of it and paying you to do something sexy, something lewd, unnerves you. your heart starts to race, thudding against your ribs almost painfully.

it's fine, you think. he's just a creep. a loser. "uh huh, not part of the game, Simon. i'm afraid i'm gonna have to cut you off—"

you block him. they don't normally get under your skin like this. ever. at all. even when they throw random names in your dms, hoping one of them happens to be yours, and try to blackmail you to your fake friends and family. it doesn't bother you as much as this. as him. get a dog. how absurd.

the next series of chats pass without the same odd comments. take your bra off, but leave the robe on. act coy, like you don't want to—

creeps, you think, in their own right. but. paying ones. so, you smile. stiff. uncomfortable. grinning so wide it hurts. pretending to ignore the strange unease growing in your guts. your eyes sliding back to the superchats saved in a glowing log. let me in. a troll. whatever. it's nothing. nothing. you'll drink wine after this, scrub your skin raw in the shower and buy yourself something pretty with the money these greasy losers threw your way—

Simon says... let me in.

you feel your heart in your throat. it can't be him. you blocked him. you have mods to keep trolls out of your chats, but wonder—hopefully—if maybe it failed. maybe they found your stream are just being weird. strange. but when you check, the filters are on. he's a registered user. paid the premium to watch you. to get an invite to your special game nights. it makes it worse, you think, that he paid to be here. to do this.

your hand shakes. you block this user, too, ignoring the discomfort churning inside your chest. the fear spiking along the nape of your neck. hair raising. there's a prickle on your skin. the feeling of being watched

no. it's fine. you're fine—

"ah, what else should i do, Simon?" you ask your viewers, pulling on another smile. one that hurts. aches. wobbles around the edges. you'll end the stream in a few minutes. order Thai food. drink yourself stupid. take the day off tomorrow. use this creeps money and waste it. blow it on something stupid. dumb. laugh about it with your friends.

your shoulders dip. the tension easing. you're fine. you're at home. the door—

you locked it. right? you definitely, absolutely, locked it when you brought in the package from the delivery driver. the massive, hulking man who loomed in your doorway, too wide, even, to fit inside, and growled out in a low, brassy timbre: sign 'ere. you took the pen, pretending he wasn't drilling holes into you with his gaze, eyes liquid in the dark. intense. wanting. and then scurried inside—

back pressed against the door, hands wrapped around the lingerie set.

you glance at the chat. "which Simon bought me this cute set? i'd like to thank them personally," you murmur, forcing your shoulders to drop. it's fine. you live in the middle of nowhere. no one is coming to your door.

there's no takers in the chat. you shift on the chair, licking your lips. "it's really cute, Simon. a perfect size, too, and i just—"

something catches your eye in the corner of the monitor. a movement. a slight shift. a whisper of fabric. you tilt your chin, peering into the hazy black reflection.

what you're looking at doesn't make any sense. your bedroom door is open. a curtain of black drapes over the wall where the pale strip of light doesn't reach.

the washroom light is still on, a yellow spill illuminating the hallway, but nothing is there. no one is in the hall. but you know you closed your door. you always do when you stream. your heart trips over itself. leaps to your throat. you almost choke on it—

another bubble pops up. Simon says... hey. uh, who is that guy behind you?

there's a ringing in your ears. your hair stands on end. something moves again. the black mass wasn't a shadow. it moves. takes shape. the covered head nearly reaches your ceiling, body filling the entirely of your room. massive. a mountain you remember thinking. a fucking mountain, you texted your friend. thighs the size of tree trunks—

a hand reaches out, grabs hold of your power bar. thick gloved fingers curling over the button. in the bluegreen glow of your computer screen, a man steps out.

"glad y'liked it, pet." the deep, brassy drawl sends shivers down your spine. you try to scream, mouth opening wide to choke it out, yell for help—

your chat bubbles up, feverish in their excitement. you skin through the messages, stomaching churning as it clicks in your head. their rabidness isn't about saving you, but—

(omg he's gonna fuck her pron??? we're getting pron????? no fucking wayyyyy god i wish it were me—)

this isn't a fucking bit, you morons, you want to howl. call the fucking police—

but he gets there first. two strides. it happens in a blink. the screen goes back and he's on you in seconds.

you're not even sure how someone so big, so heavy, could move that quietly—

"ah-ah, none o'tha' now," his hand curls around your neck, tight. choking. you try to fight but he just huffs, breathing in deep, chest expanding across your spine as his other hand snakes around your waist, trapping you against a corded forearm. he bends down, nuzzles his jaw into your crown. coos:

"Simon says... turn around for me pretty girl, an' be good, now. went through all this trouble t'find you. think i deserve a little reward—"

[atlabeth]

pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.

a/n: im in the opposite of a writing slump right now (will prob fall into a writing slump right after i say this) probably because im procrastinating on essays for school and i can only write when im meant to be doing work. but tiny little fluffy spencer one shots are very good for the soul right now. i think it's my way of healing from my hotch fic

wc: 1.8k

warning(s): one slightly sexual joke from emily. all fluff

You usually don’t get to the office this early, but you don’t exactly have a choice. The BAU’s last couple cases have all run one after another, barely leaving you any time in the office, and now you’re paying for it. 

You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and not nearly enough time to do it all—if you’re lucky, you’ll be writing reports for a few days straight. If you’re not, you’ll be putting in some overtime.  

“This is the most focused I’ve ever seen you this early,” Derek comments. 

You shake your head with a sigh. “These reports are government mandated torture.” 

He chuckles, and he nods at Emily as she walks over to her desk. “Are you this busy?” 

She shakes her head. “I’ve still got a report to get through, but nothing that bad.” 

“I get it,” you say wryly. “You’re all more organized than me. Just don’t come to me asking to go out tonight—you know I can’t say no.” 

“But don’t shots taste better when you’re supposed to be doing work?” Derek asks, and you roll your eyes with a laugh. 

“Not when I’ve got this much work I’m supposed to be doing.” 

You hear the elevator ding and glance up—Spencer’s walking through and fixing his tie. You look back down at your report as you greet him. 

“Hey, Spence,” you call. “Why’re you late?” 

“I’m not late,” he says, and you can see him checking his watch out of your peripherals. “I’m two minutes and thirty-three seconds early.” 

“Really?” you muse. “I guess I’m just so used to you being here before me.” 

“You can’t judge my timeliness on yours when you’ve been here for an hour already,” Spencer says. 

You frown, tapping your pen against the paper. “How do you know?” 

“You’re settled in already. Your coat’s on your chair, your stack of unfinished files is smaller than it was last time we were in the office, your coffee isn’t steaming, and your mug has a chipped handle—when they were put away last night, that one was set in the front, so you’d have to be here early to get it.” 

“Touche,” you murmur. You’re not sure why you ever ask your team of profilers how they know something. 

“You also look like you don’t want to be here,” he comments. “That’s pretty typical of agents who have to be here before their regular hours.” 

You chuckle and tilt your head in admission. You don’t really want to be here, especially running on so few hours of sleep. 

“Why aren’t you as early as usual?” Emily asks. 

“My neighbor knocked on my door this morning to ask me for something,” Spencer says. “It threw off my whole routine. I picked the wrong tie, I couldn’t pack my bag properly, and I had to toast my bagel for two minutes instead of three and a half to make it out in time.” 

“How terrible,” Derek says with mock austerity. 

“It is terrible!” he exclaims. “It’s scientifically proven that a morning routine makes you happier, more energized, and ready to seize the day—carpe diem.” Spencer sets his bag on the floor next to his desk and looks at everyone else with a smile. “Did you know that phrase was actually coined by the Roman poet Horace in his Odes? It comes from the first book out of four in the eleventh poem—the full phrase in Latin is carpe diem, quam mini—”

“How was your bagel?” Emily asks to interrupt him, and he pauses. 

“It was good,” he says. “Could’ve been toastier.” 

You look up, a teasing remark on the edge of your tongue, but the words die in your throat when you actually see him. 

Spencer’s started combing a hand through his hair to fix it—must have been another part of his affected morning routine—his lips set in a pout as he tries to see his reflection in his dark monitor. He always looks good, even without trying, but now—

“You’re wearing glasses,” you say dumbly. 

“My contacts dried out,” he grumbles, still focused on his hair. “We got home so late last night I forgot to put them in their solution, and I had no time to fix them because my neighbor messed up my whole morning.” 

You nod, still unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Are you gonna keep wearing them?” 

“I don’t know. Contacts are better for cases because I’m not worried about them falling off or fogging up, but I usually sleep on the jet on the way back, and sleeping with contacts in isn’t good.” He smiles a bit as he fully turns to you, seemingly satisfied with his hair. “It reduces the amount of oxygen that gets to your cornea, which damages the cornea’s surface and makes it harder to regenerate new cells. Sleeping with contacts actually makes you six to eight times more likely to get an eye infection.”

You nod again, your brain still not quite working at full power. You always love listening to Spencer’s fact dumps—it gives you a lot of material to impress your non-BAU friends with on the side, and you’re eternally thankful for that—but right now, you seriously cannot focus. 

You’d never really thought about him in glasses, but that’s probably a good thing if this is how it makes you feel. 

You were valedictorian as an undergrad, and you received stellar feedback from your professors during your masters program. You’re an excellent profiler, a valued member of the BAU, and you’re a goddamn FBI agent. 

And yet you can’t find a single thought in your head because your coworker showed up to work wearing glasses. 

He’s still rambling about other common causes of eye infection and how nobody seems to take them as seriously as they should, when Derek, not even trying to hide his grin at your turmoil, speaks up.  

“Reid. Wanna cool it a bit?” 

Spencer’s eyes dart over to him for a moment before he stops. “Uh— sorry.” He frowns as he looks back at you. “Why do you ask? Do you not like them?” 

“No,” you blurt out, and you shake your head a multitude of times. “No. They look great. You look great. They’re—” You dig your nails hard into your palm as you try your hardest to smile like normal, and this time you nod. “They’re good, Spence.” 

“Thanks.” Spencer does that little smile-nod combo of his, and he pushes his glasses back into place with his thumb by the bottom of the frames. “That’s nice to know I’ve got another option.” 

You thank whatever god may be out there that Hotch and Penelope are busy in their offices and JJ is busy with some other case, because you think you would die if anyone else saw you like this. 

“Hey, Reid,” Emily says, also not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. You hate your team sometimes. “They’re almost out of sugar in the breakroom. If you want coffee the way you like it this morning, you should probably get in there.” 

“What?” Spencer shoots up, his brows already furrowing into a frown. “That— that’s ridiculous. I can’t mess up my morning any more.” 

“You’d better get in there, then,” she remarks. 

“We’re an entire office of agents running on coffee,” Spencer complains as he starts walking. “How are we almost out of sugar?” 

“Because half of ‘em drink it black,” Derek says, and Spencer shakes his head with a sigh as he leaves. 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

You bury your head in your hands the moment he’s gone and Derek laughs. “I wish I could’ve gotten that on video.” 

“Don’t talk to me,” you groan. “It is not fair of him to walk in like that.” 

“And that is why I call him pretty boy.”

“He needs them to see,” Emily says with amusement as she leans against the side of your desk. “You just can’t control yourself.” 

“I need to transfer offices,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.” 

“You should ask him out!” Derek encourages. “He’d probably say yes.” 

“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I doubt he likes me like that. A— and even if he does, that’s the last thing either of us need right now.” 

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “It looks like you clearly need something.” 

You let out a frustrated noise as you screw your eyes shut. “I’m doomed.” 

You hear Spencer say your name, and when you look over at him, one hand still pressed against your head, you see he’s got two cups of coffee in his hands. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say weakly. “I’m great. Why?” 

“I got you one too,” he says, holding one of the mugs out to you. “The one you have is probably cold by now, and it looks like you need an extra kick to get through all those reports.” 

“Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet.” He nods as you take the proffered mug, and you swear your cheeks are as warm as the coffee. He is really testing your strength today. 

“You— you have a lot,” he says, and you huff a dry laugh and nod. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I could take half of them if you want?” 

Your grip tightens on the mug and you can feel Derek’s eyes on you. “I couldn’t make you do that, Spence.” 

“You’re not!” Spencer exclaims. “I can get through mine really quickly—we worked together for almost the whole last case so I can do all of that anyways.” 

“...You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?” 

“I’m sure,” he nods. “Besides, I offered. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.” 

And god damn him, because he nudges his glasses back into place again, pushes a strand of loose hair back into place. You’re dying over here. 

You set the mug of coffee on your desk and pick up the top half of your pile. “All yours, Spence.” 

He takes the bottom half and smiles at you, and you smile back before he walks back to his desk. You are dying over here. 

“Let me know how I can pay you back,” you say, and he shakes his head. 

“You don’t need to pay me back.” 

“Really?” 

Spencer nods. “I mean, Morgan invited us all out on the jet last night, and I don’t think I can do it alone. If you can get out of the office in time, I don’t have to. I think that's enough of a payback.” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll be there.” 

He smiles again and nods, then he picks up a pen and focuses in. You turn back to your desk, your face burning. 

“What was that about him not liking you like that?” Derek says. 

“Quiet!” you whisper-yell, swatting him with the pile of files in your hand. “He might hear you!” 

“He’s not hearing anything while he’s focused on that,” he says. “That just means you can ogle him more.” 

You groan again, letting your forehead fall into your palm. “I’m pathetic.” 

“I think you’re right.” Emily chuckles as she stands up. “You are doomed.” 

[mellowwillowy]

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Feat: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Lilia Bonus: Floyd, Jade, Jamil, Rook, Epel, Malleus

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle’s face was almost as red as his hair, not out of anger but rather…

[Oh my gooodddd, stomp those tiny feet again, Riddle! Give me that pout~]

Really… should he do it again? Out of nowhere? Well, let’s take a walk to where you clicked then…

[Yaahhh!! So cuteeee!!!]

Well at least you didn’t think him badly for being angry out of nowhere… whoops, he wasn’t supposed to idle like that.

Ahh, why are you moving on to another character? Cater? That good for nothing? The naughty ADeuce duo? He's almost turning from red to green in envy!

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was supposed to be ticked to the brim but definitely not with you. His ears are red from your nonstop rambling while you keep on poking his avatar right on his ear.

[I wonder how it feels like to play with his ears, ah, maybe I should help you clean it too?]

Don’t. Twitch. Ears. Else the player might notice this and question this one new idle.

[Thinking back, I kinda wanna try stepping on his tail like Yuu too~]

Don’t. Swish. Tail. What? Is he a masochist or what? Well, if it’s for you then he wouldn’t mind it.

Wait wait, why are you checking out Ruggie and Jack now? Hey, what do you mean Ruggie has cuter ears and Jack has a fluffier tail? Why do they look so proud? Are they asking to be minced?

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul might break out of the avatar restraint now. You’ve been talking about how you want to squeeze the kid him, round and plump, you quoted.

Why did you find his past appearance adorable?

[Honestly, I kinda want to lift him and his hiding spot and boil him as a takoyaki filling]

Now that made Floyd and Jade snickered. Azul was internally panicking but his avatar did not show him breaking a single sweat.

[Or maybe gather all his ink whenever he cries]

For your pen?

[But I do think squeezing his plump octomer form is the best~ Oh well, he had lost all those baby fats]

And back to how you ramble about his round self again. This was supposed to be disheartening but why was he blushing?

Wait wait, don't look away from him, no! Why are you going to Floyd? And Jade too? He knew Floyd won your heart but allow him to worm into your heart at the very least. Please let one of his three hearts rest in you!

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim was nodding non-stop at your ramblings, or should he say, wishes. He was really happy that you were taking him as your magic lamp!

[And then, I want you to lace my body with lots of glitters, made of gold!]

No hard task, he just had to grind all that gold into some sort of fairy dust for you!

[Oh! And I want to try swimming in a pool of golden coins like Uncle Scrooge! I wonder if it'll hurt and uncomfortable as I think...]

He was in the same boat with you. You'd have to be careful when diving into the pool! But you can try sleeping on it though you should be careful, just in case the coins swallow you whole!

[And a carpet ride every night~]

Roger that! Tell him more of your wish, will you?

Eh? Why do you stop wishing? No! He will guarantee you that he will make it all come true! Please do not doubt him! Ah... it's because you two are in a different dimension? Screw this barrier that separates you two then.

Vil Schoenheit

Yes, he knew he was unworthy of your praises but he couldn't help but enjoy bathing in it!

[Look at your hair... and that make-up! Wow... truly is the fairest one of all!]

Oh please, no matter how much you compliment him, he could never compete with you beauty-wise! You would always be the true fairest one of all!

[Aha! Look at those heels too, contribute a lot to your height, and make you look so pretty!]

Even a prominent actor like him can't cover his natural reaction which was the growing blush on his face!

Eh? Rook? What does he have to do with him? Too in love with his words more than the beauty in front of you right now? No no no, you must look at him only and no one else!

Idia Shroud

If anything, he was glad his hair did not turn pink! From the way you kept on poking his avatar and patting his head, it made his heart tickled. He was no longer stuttering because the system wanted him to, but because he himself was nervous!

[Oh, show me that one illustration... Kyaaa! Why must you be so cute biting on your sleeve??? It's so inviting!!!]

Ah? That one? He couldn't help but feel embarrassed as you zoomed into his face and examined his hair. Truly, this was too much for his heart!

[Oh oh, and your masquerade costume is so pretty! It makes you look so pretty ffs!]

Ah, it was pretty uncomfortable to wear but he's glad he didn't take it off, not like he can do that anyway. The system won't allow that after all.

Everything feels nice so why are you changing character now? Wait wait! Have you checked his other card? No no no, why is that little shortie fae here? Don't close on him, please! He might want to try hacking your phone soon!

Lilia Vanrouge

Oya? You'd like to dress him up? Kukuku, looks like green and pink would work well on him~

[And... I think we can try curling his long hair, can we change the hue from red to pink like a color wheel?]

...Curling his hair didn't sound bad. Maybe he should try it sometimes and see if it suited him.

[Oh! And I'm gonna hang him upside down like the bat he is! My cute little bat, let's fist-fight!]

You really are an enigma huh? One moment is a sweet and docile lamb then the next moment you are a bull. Hm? Malleus? Why talk about him so sudden? Didn't you say he is your number-one favorite from Diasomnia? So why are you looking at someone else now?

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:

Floyd Leech

God of Shrimpy~ Keep on poking him, he loves it! Ah, you love his teeth? And his droopy eyes? And his laugh? Hehe, you really love everything about him huh?

So why do you even bother looking at the others? He's going to hug you tight for this silly!

Jade Leech

Ah, he is quite the gentleman, no? Hm? You'd like to keep him as your butler? Why that is quite the generous idea that you allow him to manage your daily life~

With a small dose of love potion in your daily tea every day, he's bound to have you in his arms soon, well, if he ever finds a way to pull you into this twisted wonderland.

Jamil Viper

It truly is an honor to be considered as someone reliable (from babysitting Kalim) and acknowledged as an attendant who could shield you from any danger, truly. He is ready to put his life in line for you so why?

Why are you saying that there's someone else who might fit the position as your attendant more than him? And that person being that slimy eel no less!

Rook Hunt

Ah! This is amazing! To be able to charm you with his words and let him worm into your heart is truly a blessing! Would you like him to write you a poem detailing your beauty?

No no, mon chèri, you shouldn't grace those who are unbefitting of it, don't you think it's a waste to spare the other your grace? Allow this hunter to save you from that trouble.

Epel Felmier

H-huh? You want to dress him up? Naturally, he hates being treated as a doll, a girl no less! But... the idea of you helping him dress and helping him with makeup... he can do this. It is your way of gracing him after all...

Huh? You want to dress Lilia up too? Why? Because he's cuter? Oh no, there's no way there's someone who is prettier than him, look at him, look at how pretty he is in this dress!

Malleus Draconia

If anything, he will always hear you compare him and Riddle to the 'Queen of Heart' and 'Maleficient' from your world. You will praise him for being able to stand on the same level as the actress' beauty which makes him feel giddy.

But boy is he sulking when you start rambling about Riddle and the big-headed Queen. You will dote on him and Riddle back and forth.

Can't you just dote on him?

[multific]

Two Sides of The Same Coin

Hannibal Lecter x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Cannibalism, Smut, Murder +18!!!

Summary: You two were so different, yet still the same. 

"Mrs Lecter?" 

You turned and smiled at the woman. "Yes?" you asked with a soft tone when in reality you were fuming.

How dare she just come up to you out of the blue?!

How dare she interrupt your perfect evening?!

"Hi, My name is Lucy, and I'm a huge fan of your books." of course she was, your books are brilliant. "I truly believe you are a pioneer in the genre of horror-romance."

"Thank you very much." Of course you were, no one was as good as you.

"I was wondering if you could sign my book please?"

"No problem at all." you smiled so sweetly. Why would she even have the book with her?! You are in a restaurant! You quickly signed her book and she thanked you, with your smile still present you turned back and lifted your glass to your lips.

"No need to be angry, Darling." your husband chuckled as you looked into his eyes.

Reading the other as if you were open books was something that came to both of you naturally. 

"I'm here to celebrate our anniversary. Not at a meet and greet."

"Of course, but you have to indulge them a little. Make them think they are important so they keep coming back. You mastered that one, My Love."

"I believe it was you rubbing off on me. After all, it is 30 years we have known one another."

"And I knew you were trouble from the second I saw you. Cunning, manipulative, narcissistic, egoistic, psychotic. And yet you are stunning and mine." Hannibal lifted his glass as you clicked yours against his.

"Only yours." you smiled at him, this one, was not fake but a genuine one for your husband.

On your way home from the restaurant, it began to rain, you let out a long sigh as Hannibal was driving.

"Rain always makes me nostalgic," you said as he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it. He stopped at a red light and you looked at him. "When you killed my stepfather... for me. It was also raining."

"He had it coming, he abused you and murdered your mother. I gave him a merciful end. One he didn't deserve."

"He deserved to suffer like I did, but it was not what I meant, Hannibal."

"Please, elaborate then."

"You killed him because he was about to kill me, you became my saviour, but it is not only that. I remember you tore him apart, you kept on cutting and breaking his bones. I should have been disgusted, yet all I could think about was the way your muscles tensed and the grunts you let out."

"So, I turned you on." he spoke as he turned a corner. "I figured, from the way you acted after."

"I never got naked so fast in my life. We made love in that pool of blood in front of the fireplace. I remember we were young and unsure. It was so hot, I could taste blood on your lips." you could recall the way he moved his hips, so amazing, he reached such depths inside you that you weren't even sure existed. 

But he could also recall the way you completely submit to him. You only ever done that to him, no one else gets to have control over you, but him.

"Why are you bringing this up now? It has been a very long time ago."

"Because I want you to do the same tonight. As my gift for our wedding anniversary, I wish to watch you hunt, break and cut and then, I want you to fuck me in the blood."

"We are very similar, My Love." he stopped the car, your eyes never leaving him. "I was thinking almost the same." he smiled as the window behind you rolled down.

"Hi there, I like a three-way, 500 for an hour." the woman behind you talked and you finally turned to look at her.

Prostitutes disgusted you, the way they looked at your husband made your blood boil, but you smiled at her. 

"How about a thousand and I get to watch?" Hannibal replied and you smirked.

The woman agreed and got into the backseat, having no idea what she was in for.

"Happy anniversary."

"I love you." you said as he began to drive again.

---

The next morning you wake up in your bed, under the warm sheets with the smell of food filling the air.

You slowly woke up as the blanket fell down your naked body.

You rolled out of bed, and got dressed in one of Hannibal's shirts before heading to the kitchen.

"Good morning." you said as he had his back turned towards you. You rounded the kitchen island and hugged him.

"Morning. I made your favourite for breakfast. Bacon with eggs."

You looked at the meat sizzling in the pan before looking up at Hannibal as he leaned down to kiss you.

"She truly was a pig." 

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Dirty Dozen (ft. +2)

GN! MC x Pervert! OM Characters

(Cause y'all seemed to love the first one omg. Also TW: I made everyone wayy more sleazy and nasty than before so read at your own risk. MInors DNI)

Pervert! Mammon who likes to ask you for something specifically when your hands are full. "MC, lend me a few Grimm could ya?" He asks when you're in the middle of cooking.

"My hands are covered in cake batter, just take some from my back pocket."

"Are you sure it's there? Let me check both pockets." He isn't so much searching for coins as much as he's feeling and practically groping your ass. Seriously you start to wonder how it's taking him 20 minutes to find something that's right there.

Pervert! Solomon who keeps his room colder than usual when you come over for magic lessons.

"Is it too cold for you MC? I apologise, I kept it this way because some of the potions have bad reactions to heat but if you'd like-"

"I'm absolutely fine, Solomon. You worry about me too much." You smile at him reassuringly, not noticing how his eyes are so eagerly trained at your nipples perking up through your thin t-shirt.

Boner Bonus points if you allow him to hug you for some warmth. His fingers will definitely brush against your chest more than once.

Pervert! Beel who seems to make a mess whenever he's trying to help you in the kitchen. "I'm so sorry, MC. I didn't mean to spill it on your hands!"

"It's okay Beel, it's just some cream and syrup. I can just wash it off right away."

"But it's such a waste. Please allow me." He starts to thoroughly lick your fingers and you shake your head and let him knowing his fixations on food.

But he can't help it - you taste so good. He secretly wonders what you might taste like down there, drooling at the thought.

Pervert! Levi who has taken to sitting on pillows Japanese style while gaming and offers you the same. Sure enough you don't even suspect an ulterior motive.

"Did you get inspired by some human world anime again? Careful though - your legs and butt will start to cramp after a while."

"MC you're too gracious! Caring so much for an otaku like me!"

After you leave, he promptly takes the pillow you were sitting on and puts it in his bathtub. He's going to sleep on it ofc. Your scent on it helps him jerk off better.

Pervert! Belphie who now asks you to rub his belly till he falls asleep. "What's so funny?" He asks as you giggle at his request.

"Since when do you need help falling asleep?"

"I care about the quality of my sleep. And I sleep better this way."

Fortunately you believe him and don't suspect that it's because it's the closest he can get you to fondling his dick. He has such a difficult time holding in his moans and hard ons, every time your hands go even a bit lower than usual.

Pervert! Barbatos who got into sewing clothes as a hobby and specifically likes making them for you now. But you never understand why he needs to take same measurements over and over again.

"Oh? This is a different kind of design, MC. So the measurements will vary from before."

"Always making new things aren't you? You never fail to suprise Barbatos." You smile at him admiring.

The tightening of the tape around your chest and crotch are subtle. He can hardly keep it together when you praise him after all. But he has to if he wants to skim his hands over your body like this again.

Pervert! Diavolo who takes you on such long drives that you always doze off in the front seat, waking up apologetic for missing so much of the journey.

"Hahaha, it's okay, MC. We've been on this same road lots of times. I assure you, you didn't miss anything. And I like that you feel safe to sleep in my presence."

"But still, I'm so sorry, it feels disrespectful..." You apologize, not even knowing how hard he is in his pants right now.

Afterall, he can keep squeezing your beautiful thighs, maybe let his hands wander between them and imagine himself fucking you in the back seat as much as he wants, when you're asleep.

Pervert! Simeon who will have noone except you as his muse for art classes. And the themes just keep getting more erotic each time.

"Are you sure you're okay with this, MC? You don't have to do it if you're not comfortable-"

"Nonsense, Simeon. I feel super comfortable if it's you. You're a true artist after all." You say as you lay on his bed wrapped up only in bedsheets, exposing your entire back and legs.

If only you knew, this angel has thoughts dirtier than most demons. How he's practically fucking you with his eyes. How he's definitely going to jerk off into those bedsheets, moaning your name.

Pervert! Satan who loves teaching you things - standing right behind you, guiding your hands to make latte-art, or trying a new style of painting.

"That's it, nice and slow. Look how much you've improved, MC." He beams at the cute kitty in the coffee cup.

"All thanks to you, Satan. I can't wait to learn more from you." You smile at him earnestly.

He almost feels guilty for tricking you this way, but the way your hands feel in his, and your ass feels against his groin is so addicting. One of these days, he wishes could teach you to be on all fours and take his length in your pretty little mouth.

Pervert! Asmo who loves keeping your eyes on him and noone else. From elaborate performances to petty staring contests, he cannot have enough of your gaze.

"Oh you're turning red in the face, Asmo. Did I manage to flutter the heart of the Avatar of Lust?" You lean forward smiling.

"You're my only weakness after all, MC. It's your fault for making me this way." He almost moans.

You laugh and mock apologize at his antics but you don't know he's been grinding like an animal on his seat, and creamed his pants under your innocent gaze. Your undivided attention just turns him on so much.

Pervert! Lucifer who makes his desires too obvious sometimes. He'll regret it in the morning and take you to dinner to apologize but not until he's already done something dirty.

"Lucifer, it's 2 am. You need to throw away that coffee and sleep." You're practically dragging him to bed.

"Fine. I'll go sleep if you'll stay in my room tonight." He says knowing you'll comply. You care too much for your own good. He's not even going to let you sleep on the couch, no you have to stay wrapped up in his arms.

You might wake upto him groaning your name in his sleep and you might mistake it for a nightmare - not knowing how he's balls deep inside you in his dreams.

Pervert! Thirteen who likes how excited you get over her newest inventions and keeps making more things to call you over.

"And this little baby and can throw pie at people's faces without ever missing. Guaranteed headshot." She smiles proud.

"This would be so useful in a cafeteria food fight and then get banned right after its glory. But I so wanna use it!" You whine.

She loves how much you appreciate her inventions. She is secretly working on a 'pleasure' device scented like her to give you - she hopes you'll like it just as much.

Pervert! Mephisto who is actually taken aback by your duality. You're such a mischievous little imp usually but turn so well-mannered in front of Diavolo's esteemed guests.

"So even you can be prim and proper sometimes? If only you could maintain this on the daily." He huffs.

You laugh and mock-bow in front of him. "Of course, anything for you my dearest lord. Would you like to dance with this proper human while you can?"

He blushes at the sudden offer. Why you little- how dare you tempt him like this. You can't complain about him gripping you somewhere improper or too tight. You deserve this for your attitude.

Pervert! Raphael who is still navigating new feelings of lust he's never felt before he met you. Why his heart skips every time you fall asleep on his shoulder or why he felt a sudden warmth at the pit of his stomach feeling you breath so softly into his neck.

"Thank you for helping me tidy the classroom, MC. I didn't even know where the cleaning supplies were."

"That's alright. It's more fun with two people anyway and wait Raphael there's a bucket over the-" The fresh bucket of water already spilled splashing all over both of you.

You immediately fetched a towel to help him dry up but he couldn't stop staring at you instead. With the uniform sticking to your body like and the water glistening on your exposed skin - why was he so enthralled? Why does he feel a strange pulsing between his legs as you hover over him?

[ervotica]

“C'mere, sweetheart-“ & “Breathe, just breathe-" with finnick please 🤍

a life of our own

pairing: finnick odair x reader

summary: finnick helps you find yourself again when you’re rescued from the capitol. you’re desperate to trust him again.

warnings: hurt/comfort, a lil fluff, a lil angst, r was tortured and brainwashed in the capitol after catching fire (i got sooo carried away with this but i luv it! hope you enjoy, please remember to like/comment + reblog!)

hunger games masterlist

Your chest is red-hot with anguish; it’s all you feel lately. Confined to this white room, locked in, spending all your time waiting for something that won’t come.

Nothing is real anymore. Your life is a thick fog that you can’t decipher, can’t tell which bits of it are real and which were planted by the Capitol. They made you a weapon against the revolution, against Katniss and Coin and Finnick.

You know him, that much is evident in your unconscious reactions. The way your chest tightens and squeezes when he walks into a room, how your breath catches and you hunger after his touch despite not knowing exactly why. But you know that he’s familiar and that - at one point or another - you loved him.

He visits routinely like clockwork, every day at around the same time. And each time you don’t push him away, don’t flinch at his touch like you do the others, his confidence grows.

Your doctor has been practicing memory games with you, which parts do your life are real and which are fabricated. You repeat them in your head over and over and sometimes they slip out when you’re talking, too. You’ve been incorporating opinions on top of the basic facts you know, and you’ve been including what you know about him.

You rock on the bed with your knees to your chest, feet tucked underneath you as you recite everything you can remember about him. You mutter it under your breath, tongue clicking as you whisper.

The door creaks and you stop dead mid-sentence. Finnick slips in without a word, pulling a chair up to sit by you. He doesn’t miss the way you eye him warily, watching every movement, every tick of his jaw and twitch of his muscles. You’ve always been perceptive- it’s one of his earliest memories of you. How you watch people.

He sits and watches you in return; you trace every inch of his body with your eyes, the bruises on his arms, the points of his shoulders, the slope of his nose and chin, the curve of his jaw.

“Finnick,” you say. He smiles; his fingers rest on the edge of the bed.

“That’s right.”

You reach out to touch him; he stays dead still as instructed by your doctors, but lets you lift his hand to place it in your own much smaller one. You turn so you’re sitting cross legged facing him, holding his hand in your lap. His heart could burst with the way you’re looking at him, a cocktail of fear and longing in your eyes. Something else lies deeper than that, like you’re being pulled through the rubble of your own mind and to the surface. Something a lot like love.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice is small, more timid than he’s ever heard from you.

“Anything.”

“You love me. Real or not real?”

“Real,” he murmurs.

“I think I love you, too. I know I did before. I just don’t know which parts of my brain are real.” You fiddle with his fingers, the pad of your thumb rubbing over his knuckles methodically. If this is the only way you’ll ever touch him again, he’ll take it. He’ll take every scrap, every morsel of affection he can eke out of you. Whatever you’re comfortable with.

“We can figure that out together.” He’s soft as he speaks to you and it’s a voice that you remember. A very distinct one in your memory.

���Finnick,” you say again. He nods and shifts closer.

“Sometimes you call me Finn,” he starts, pressing lips to your knuckles. “Or honey. Or idiot if you’re mad at me.”

You smile and he catches a glimpse of you in there, engulfed by everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve been told. But he knows he can pull you out.

“I don’t think I’d ever be mad at you,” you mumble. He purses his lips thoughtfully.

“Well, sometimes I am an idiot. And I know you tell me that because you want to keep me safe.”

You’re in agreement there, not knowing everything but knowing undeniably that you would do anything to protect Finnick.

You shuffle over in the bed and tug at his arm. He tilts his head curiously, knowing what you’re asking but not wanting to be presumptuous.

“You want me to come sit up there with you, sweetheart?”

“Yes please.”

“Okay.” He settles himself next to you, legs outstretched where yours are tucked up tightly to your body. “If it gets too much, you tell me and I’ll go, okay?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Then I won’t.”

You shuffle round and swing your legs over his own so you’re almost completely in his lap; his arm comes up and over your shoulders automatically, like muscle memory. This is how you are in your clearest memories- together, a tightly knit partnership. He’s holding his breath, waiting for you to realise what you’re doing and lose composure, but that moment doesn’t come. You just sit and close your eyes, ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“I’m tired,” you croak.

“You want me to leave you to sleep?”

“No.” Your voice is thick and uneven where you’re full of all these new emotions that you can’t quite place. “Will you stay?”

“I’ll stay as long as you want.”

He pulls the thin blanket over your body and smiles as you needle in close to him, face in the juncture of his neck. Hiding with him instead of from him.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” You relax at the pet name, your body going lax against his own as you start to fall asleep.

You can’t be asleep for more than 30 minutes before you start to stir. You’re muttering in your sleep as you start to twitch and reach out for something.

Your brow knits and it forms a crease in the middle of your forehead as you start to cry.

“Honey, c’mon,” Finnick murmurs, his hand pressed to your neck in an effort to rouse you. “It’s just a dream.”

His chest aches; he can’t bear seeing you in this state, knowing there’s not much he can do to make it better. Thinking it’s his fault for not getting to you in time.

You scream and wake with a start, wide-eyed and frantic. Your eyes flit around the clinical looking room as you try to gauge your surroundings and reorient yourself.

“Honey, it’s okay. It was just a dream, you’re safe.”

You scramble back and push him away, curling yourself up into a ball at the foot of the bed. Tears paint your cheeks and they shine in the harsh white lights, hiccuping sobs. He crouches a metre or so away, palms up, arms outstretched in hopes you’ll make contact again.

“Breathe, just breathe,” he says. “You’re okay. I’m here, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

You’re like a wild animal the way you look at him- panic-stricken and agitated, frenetic in the way you move.

“Honey, it’s me. It’s Finn.”

You swallow thickly and nod, your body slowly starting to unfurl.

“Finn,” you sniffle, holding out your arms. “Finnick.”

He creeps closer still and you practically throw yourself into his arms, face against the hollow of his throat, arms locked around his middle like a vice.

“I have you. I’m right here,” he says, over and over like a mantra. A promise.

“I don’t wanna live like this anymore.”

“You’re not going to,” he whispers. “I’ll be here until you feel well enough and then we can start planning our life. Together.”

“Okay.”

Your fingers card through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, wet eyes meeting his.

“I love you. I know it now, I can remember that.”

“I love you too,” he says, craning his neck to meet your eyes. “You’re my girl.”

You’re hesitant as you tilt your head up to press a kiss to his lips but he welcomes it, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin in place as he pecks you a few more times.

“We’re gonna have a life of our own, I promise.”

“A life of our own.”

[reidrum]

wine or wine not | s.r

spencer reid x bau!reader

a/n: i think i love writing buildup to smut than actual smut, but i hope you guys like this lmk what you think. this was requested with the prompts "look at me when you come on my fingers" and "muttering compliments kissing down their body" and it was so much fun to write aaaaahh, my requests are open so please send more!!! guidelines in pinned <3

summary: you're hopelessly pining after spencer at a rossi party, and when you run into him in the kitchen when you're getting a refill and he asks if you want to explore the mansion with him, who are you to say no?

cw: 18+ minors dni pls, fingering, p in v, nipple play, soft!dom!spence, spencer being ridiculously hot its criminal, ooc penelope but it was for the plot, pining idiots, wine cellar sex wine cellar sex wine cellar sex, public sex, morgan and prentiss being dumb, rossi being a smug lil shit, a dumb ass title sorry i didn't know what else to name it lol

wc: 4.1k

★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★

these days rossi was always finding some reason to throw a party at his mansion. you’re not exactly sure what it was tonight, a birthday? an anniversary? regardless, you and the team appreciated the excuse to unwind, dress up, and have non murder related fun.

the sun is setting over the rolling hills the mansion is perched on, and you’re sat at a table with the girls— penelope, jj, and emily discussing penelope’s latest dating escapade. you’re trying hard to pay attention, you really are, but it proves to be difficult when you’re focused on the man showing magic tricks to the kids across the room.

you look on yearnfully as spencer pulls a coin from jack’s ear, all the kids are laughing and cheering and he has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hellooo?” penelope waves a hand in front of you dramatically, “i’m getting to the good part and you’re off in space!”

you jolt back to the present, “sorry pen, i’m listening i promise. so he shows up to your door with maple syrup and feathers?”

“YES, anyways so then he’s like i have a proposition for you…” penelope continues her story but you can’t help but zone out again. your eyes drift back to boy genius as he finishes another trick for little henry before rising up to his full height. it’s in that moment his eyes meet yours and softens as he offers you a small wave. 

you return the gesture back which causes the girls at your table to look in the same direction and they come to a glaring conclusion too quickly.

“ah, that’s why you’re not paying attention. too busy ogling mr. houdini over there.” jj remarks.

“i am not!” you scoff.

“oh you so are,” emily says, “when are you going to let yourself feel your heart’s full content.”

“first of all, i can’t stand you. second of all, it’s not worth it. he would never feel the same about me.” you say as emily rolls her eyes.

this time penelope interjected, “oh don’t be so cynical. you haven’t even tried how could you even know?”

but you did know. it’s not that spencer didn’t like you, he treated you the same as any team member, but that was just it. you wanted him to see you as more. during cases you would try to impress him or make breakthroughs in the hopes he would tell you ‘good job’. a couple times you brought him coffee when you got yours, just to hear him say your name and thanks. work conversations rarely seemed to move past small talk, but you’re a little sure that’s on your part because he just made you so nervous. and like, he’s a profiler. so you’re sure to some degree he knows how you feel, and it just makes you regress into your safe hole even further because you think he’s being nice by not acknowledging it and saving you the embarrassment.

the girls knew about your harbored crush for a month now, since the last bau drinks night you got a little too truthful during truth or dare. you were much younger in comparison to your colleagues, so they offered their sympathies at your unrequited love and tried to get you to come out more and let loose.

which is one of the reasons you’re sitting in rossi’s living room, wine glass in hand, as morgan recounts the craziest date hes ever been on. the other reason, which you wouldn’t admit to anyone, was so you could admire your (not) lover from an acceptable distance and not risk embarrassing yourself.

so here you are, two glasses deep, rising up from your spot on the floor telling everyone you’re going to get a refill. your heels click against the hardwood floors all the way to the kitchen where you just so luckily run into the (your) man of the hour.

“hi.”

you were looking down at your feet as you walked to the kitchen, your head snapping up to meet the voice, “hi spencer.” you said softly.

“if you’re looking for more wine, i think emily just grabbed the last bottle,” you must have outwardly deflated as he continued, “that bad out there?”

“only so much wine can get me through penelope’s sexcapades and derek’s crazy one night stands.” you joke.

he chuckles back, “oh i know, why do you think i’m hiding out in here?”

you laugh again before an uncomfortable yet strangely comfortable silence falls between you both. unknowingly you both take turns gazing at each other, indexing the others features as if this moment would be the only chance you got.

you’re about to take your loss and leave when spencer speaks up again, “you know, i wouldn’t put it past rossi to have a secret wine cellar somewhere.”

“honestly, you’re probably right. what kind of italian just runs out of wine.”

spencer pauses slightly before saying, “do you want to see if we can find it?”

you look at his eyes again and catch a glint of mischief? concern that you’re wine-less? whatever it is, you take the bait.

“i’m game.”

—

rossi’s mansion was humongous. it was well known that he was loaded from his years in the bureau and multiple book deals, but holy shit, the rooms just seemed never ending, and none of them were a wine cellar.

“i don’t know spence, i'm starting to lose hope, and debating to revoke rossi’s italian card.”

you’re both in one of the many studies and are about to leave to find another room, when spencer notices a smaller door next to the study. he slowly opens it and peaks inside to find a descending wooden staircase. he looks at you with a smirk, “i think we just found it.”

he holds the door open and gestures you to enter first, following shortly behind you as he shuts the door. he makes sure to check that it’ll still open even after it’s shut, and you both relax a little seeing it still unlock. you move down the stairs, gripping the handrail and praying you don’t trip over your heels and fall to an embarrassing demise.

spencer descends a step behind you, trying so hard not to let his eyes wander down your bare back to the curve of your hips. once he steps off you both go in opposite directions to explore. you take in the vast amount of shelves and wine racks, taking note of how it seems to be separated by year and by type. running your fingers over the labels, you’re intrigued by a shelf with the year you were born, and pause in front of it. you reach up to a shelf that is just a smidge taller than you, hoping to grab the neck of an old wine bottle.

even in your heels you’re struggling, attempting little hops to try and reach. you’re about to give up when you feel a warm hand on your right hip, while an outstretched arm on your left seamlessly grabs the bottle and brings it down to you, “careful sweetheart, don’t wanna break that pretty head of yours.” spencer says lowly.

excuse me, what the fuck did he just say.

you inspect the bottle he so kindly brought down for you, but it’s a futile effort. you can’t even remember why you wanted to see it. all you can think about is your hands clamming up, sending threats to the wine bottle it’s holding. your mind is fogging up fast, and you’re trying to order your brain to say something instead of going mute while he’s still an inch behind you. with his hand on your hip still.

“oh god,” you start shakily, “you scared me spence.” you angle your body to the left so you can attempt to show how unbothered you are and look at his face.

good save (not).

he’s staring down at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips, like he’s keeping a secret from you. his eyes are intently focused on you when he speaks again, “just didn’t want you to get hurt. s’all.”

with his close proximity, you’re sure he can hear your heart beating through both of your chests, hell it was so loud they could probably hear it upstairs. he’s still got you caged in front of him when he continues, “any particular reason for this bottle?”

“yeah no, i just, wanted to see what bottles of wine he had from the year i was born.” you answer, watching as spencer moves back to give you space when you turn to face him.

he nods, “did you know that wine is associated with the greek god dionysus?”

“no i didn’t, actually.”

“it’s really interesting,” he moves forward a tiny inch, “they call him the patron god of wine, but a lot of people often forget that he’s also the god of fertility and ecstasy.”

oh. “ecstasy?” you whisper confusingly.

“yes, he believes when you drink wine it gives you emotional and physical pleasure.”

“how does that even work?” you nervously laugh.

spencer reaches his arm above your head, never breaking eye contact, and grabs two wine glasses by their stems, “you wanna find out?”

with only so many words, you give another nod. he uncorks the bottle with ease and pours out two glasses, with his having a little less than yours, most likely due to his slow but steady return to drinking casually. clinking your glasses, you take a big gulp hoping it’ll satiate the building nerves. but you’re watching the way his fingers wrap around the glass, his veiny hand showing prominently and you’re unable to focus on anything else.

“you know, i’ve been running something of an observation the last few months.”

you take another small sip, starting to feel less nervous, “oh yeah, what about?”

“you.”

it took everything in you not to spit your drink out all over his suit. 

“me?”

he nods after another sip, “i’ve been watching you, and not in a creepy way i swear. but i’ve been keeping track of your habits; how you take your coffee, your tells when a case gets too much, things like that,”

that didn’t seem overtly terrible to you, you knew spencer was an observer of his environment, always seeking out patterns to aid his predictions. you’re about to speak when he cuts you off.

“i’ve also been noticing how you seem to change, when i’m in your presence.”

you feel like the sweat and nerves are just oozing out of you at this point, and he continues his verbal taunt.

“i’ve seen your breathing rate get faster,” he moves a step forward, “how your cheeks rise with the faintest red, kind of like right now,” another step forward, “and how you try to avoid looking directly at me because you think i’ll find out everything if you do.”

the room has to be at least a thousand degrees at this point, heart beating so fast it’s probably gone to the moon, and your brain just unable to have any coherent thoughts at the realization that maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

he takes one final step to close the gap between you and delicately places two fingers on the pulse point of your neck, “i couldn’t figure out your heart rate from afar,” he pauses to count, “but now that i know it, i can come to my conclusion.”

the air in your lungs has all but escaped, nowhere to be found. “and wh- what is your conclusion d- doctor reid?” your voice betraying you by dripping with anticipation.

“that i make you nervous. do you agree? do i make you nervous?” he says while you feel the hot breath of his whispers ghosting on your lips.

your mouth opens to say something and then shuts, because what the hell are you supposed to say? any and all logic has left the room, but the last working neuron works to make an unthinkable conclusion of your own. there is no way.

spencer moves his fingers to grip your chin between them, guiding your face to look directly into his copper eyes, “i asked you a question angel, do i make you nervous?”

you’re cornered, “y- yes.”

“why’s that?”

“spencer..”

“is it because you’re thinking of me the same way i think i about you?” his thumb starts tracing the outline of your lower jaw. he’s pressed right up against your chest, his other arm covertly moving to snake around your waist. the way you lean in subconsciously towards him, paired with your silence is all the confirmation he needs.

the pad of his thumb traces your lower lip, dragging it downwards a little. there’s a hitch in his breath when his eyes flicker from your lips back up to meet your eyes again. he quietly mumbles, “can i?”

your eyes widen slightly, relishing in the way his arms are holding you firm and steady. this was about to really happen. you’d been pining after him all this time, believing you were destined for unrequited love. but as spencer stands in front of you, looking at you as if he’d been poisoned and the only antidote is your lips, you can’t help but wonder if there’s been a similar weight on his side that’s been holding him back too.

so you nod once again, and trust your voice this time, 

“yes.”

you’re fully expecting him to go into it full force, and kiss you like a man starved. but he lets the premonition bubble for a little longer as he so agonizingly leans down and closes the gap, teasing you with the ghost of his lips on yours without making contact. he waits a moment, and just as he predicted your subconscious betrays you again and you impatiently lean up in an attempt to meet your lips together. spencer can’t help but smile before he softly pressed himself against you.

the feeling of his mouth on yours is something you can only describe as cosmic, like a star exploding into a supernova, emitting a powerful and luminous show of energy. it’s all consuming, the light reaching every neuronal end of your body and electrifying it ten times over. your hands reach up to tangle in his curly hair and he lets out the faintest whimper, spurring you on to grab it more earnestly.

spencer loses all restraint. his hands begin furiously mapping out your body, running up and down your back, reaching down to grasp a handful of your ass. he moves his hands down further to grip your thighs, effortlessly lifting you to sit on the counter behind you. spencer slots himself between your legs and continues kissing you, his mouth marking a hot trail to your neck as he mutters between, “is this okay?”

“please don’t stop.” you moan softly.

his fingers move to deftly slide the straps of your dress off your shoulder, mirroring the movement on the other side while continuing to work his down your neck. he slides the dress far enough down to expose your chest, immediately taking the swollen nub into mouth and running circles around it with his tongue. you let out a sharp gasp at the sudden warmth, whimpers leaving your throat. he repeats the motion to the other one as you cradle his head closer in an attempt to keep him there, as if spencer had any plans of leaving.

he moves his mouth back up to meet yours again, in a lust filled attack sending shock waves straight to your core. you move your fingers to work the buttons of his dress shirt and spencer moves his hand further south and under the hem of your dress, something you don’t notice until his thumbs are rubbing circles onto the plush of your inner thighs. it makes you falter on his last button as he pushes your legs farther apart,  inches closer to where you desperately need him.

spencer looks directly into your eyes as his thumbs reach up to hook onto the side of your panties and slowly move them down your legs. he groans outwardly at the resistance caused by your slickness, “all this for me, baby?”

you’re rendered speechless watching spencer and his ministrations but he continues, “you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?” his fingers are less than an inch away from your cunt, “i see you walk around the office in those tight pants, your hair and makeup all done, and those blouses jesus,” he reaches your entrance and dives in to collect your wetness, you brokenly moan as he begins to spread it all over. “couldn’t tell if you hated me for the longest time.”

“c- could never hate you.” you whine.

“i know baby,” he slides his middle finger into your hole, “just imagine the fun we could’ve had if we figured this out earlier. but it’s okay, we have all the time now.” he sets a steady rhythm before inserting his ring finger, actively working you towards a barreling orgasm.

“spencer, fuck, oh god.”

“you’re so fucking wet, bet you’re gonna come soon, right? gonna make a mess on my hand?” he baited.

you’re in shambles, one hand deathly squeezing onto one shoulder the other turning white from the grip you held on the counter. the moans won’t stop falling out of you, he works his fingers so skillfully within you it’s impossible to hold any resolve when he curves upwards and hits that spot.

your head tilts back, reeling from the intense pressure coil building inside you, the peak about to hit you any moment now. spencer uses his free hand to move your head back down, “look at me when you come on my fingers.”

that was all it took for the white hot to ravage through you, engulfing every sense and leaving you breathless. he continues moving his fingers through your orgasm, watching as you come back down to him. you don’t waste a second reaching for his belt to unfasten it, slipping your hand down to palm him through his boxers. he moans in your ear as he feels you slip inside, your small hand moving up and down, and getting impossibly harder when you take your hand back up to spit on it to then return to your movements.

you take the moment to lean into his neck and leave bites of your own, finding his sweet spot right behind his ear and sucking hard. spencer’s hands have taken a spot on your lower back beneath your dress, pressing so hard with his fingertips you know there’ll be evidence of this night tomorrow.

“spence..” you mutter in the crook in the neck.

“yeah baby?” he whispers back.

“can you fuck me now?”

he preens at your boldness, and wastes no time pulling his pants and boxers down enough to fully free himself. he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter before pulling his length out and giving it a few strokes. he lets it glide between your folds, gathering your wetness as lubricant as it hits your clit. both of you are panting hard realizing the anticipation has led to this moment. spencer positions himself at your entrance, never breaking eye contact with you, and watches your face drop into a perfect ‘oh’ as he pushes in.

spencer is absolutely wrecked as he hears your breathing pick up, reveling in the vice grip your cunt has on him. you’re no better above him as you’ve broken eye contact to stare at where the two of you connect, watching as he disappears into you and the feeling of being so full overtakes you and you’re letting out soft expletives. he bottoms out and stalls for a minute, waiting for you to signal that you’re okay for him to move. in the time he’s waiting, he takes a moment to really look at your face, how absolutely ruined you look, your cheeks are deeply flushed, hair flying in every direction, and he can’t help but tell you, “you look so pretty.”

your eyes soften as you gaze back at him and nod slightly, and he pulls back all the way to ease in again experimentally. once he hears you moan out loud at the movement, and feels you tighten even more around his cock, he loses any and all restraint he’d been holding onto this entire night.

his hips pick up the pace in harsh snaps to your core, sending ripples of pleasure all over you. your arms are wrapped around his neck attempting to pull him impossibly closer to you, “spencer…fuck…” you drawl with a whine.

“i got you baby, gonna take good care of you, promise,” he says back in between grunts. the sentiment causes you to squeeze on his cock again as he attempts to continue, “if you keep…fuck…keep squeezing me like that i’m n- not gonna last long.”

one hand in his hair and the other leaving dark red scratches on his back, you feel your second orgasm of the night hastily creep up on you. he can tell you’re close and quickens his pace as he thumbs your clit. you moan his name out once more before reaching your peak, feeling like your body is on fire as he continues to fuck you through it. 

spencer feels his own release building up, “wh- where should i..?”

“inside, i’m on the pill just please come inside me.”

it was more than enough for spencer’s movements to stutter as he released his hot load in you, groaning out loud as he finished.

he slows to a half, still hilted inside of you but softening post orgasm. you’re both breathing heavily as you look up at each other and take in the other’s fucked out faces. spencer presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before resting his own on it, “that was..”

“intense,” he quirks his eyebrows at you, “in a really really good way.” you add quickly.

he smiles down at you, “i wasn’t kidding, what i said earlier. i think about you an embarrassingly high amount each day. i’d love to take you out and make this a real thing.”

“yeah?” you gape incredulously, “thought i was the one embarrassing myself if you were able to notice all those things i did when you were near me.”

he laughs, “no, no it was endearing, definitely made it easier to be as forward as i was tonight knowing you wouldn’t freak out.”

you’re about to respond when you hear the door to the cellar open, you’re both hidden from view but know it’s only a matter of seconds before someone catches you. you both look at each other in panic as spencer pulls out of you, tucking himself back in and zipping up his pants. you grab your panties from the floor and begin to pull them up your legs when he notices his come dripping down your thighs. he swiftly gathers the release on his fingers and shoves it back inside you, causing you to let out a near pornographic moan as he pulls up your underwear all the way.

“did you guys hear that?” a voice sounding like emily said.

“see this is why i don’t do big houses like this, too many creepy ass noises.” morgan.

“mansion,” rossi corrects, “and for a couple of profilers, you both are stupid if you don’t know what that sound was.”

your eyes widen to match spencer’s, you’ve been caught.

“was it a mouse or something?”

“no more like, bunnies,” he joked with an innuendo, “come on, i found the bottle i was looking for, let the bunnies do their thing so they can leave and go home to do whatever it is bunnies do.”

“you’re a weird old man david…” emily muttered.

the door closes and you both let out a big breath, and burst into a fit of laughter, “how the hell are we gonna show our faces to him on monday?” you whine.

“that is a monday us problem,” he starts, “but right now, i think it’s time for me to take you home.” he winks.

two stuffed bunnies show up on yours and spencer’s desk on monday. you’re both redder than a tomato as rossi chuckles when he walks by. prentiss and morgan are still confused.

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

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