#so far he has a dangly earring

[kindred-spirit-93]

i made a thing lol @sunshines-child

[lis-likes-fics]

Is That a Challenge?

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader Word Count: 8.1k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, abo themes, omega!Spencer, alpha!Reader, (mentions of alpha!Emily) heat/rut mentions, sexual innuendos, multiple orgasms, edging oral (f! receiving), biting, claiming, praise, sub/dom themes, aftercare... A/N: This was so hard to write because I'm not really used to writing dom!Reader. I'm also not used to writing sub guys because I'm used to wanting all my blorbos to rail me so...this was new to me. I will eventually write a fic where Spencer does the railing though, TRUST! But here it is! I hope you and enjoy. Happy Halloween!

Traffic was a fucking nightmare, but at least you're here. People were moving slowly this morning for a reason unbeknownst to you. Your coffee is the only thing keeping you sane so far, and you're pretty sure it's by mere placebo.

You set your bag on your desk with a heavy sigh, saying your lazy hellos to the girls. You guess Morgan's in his office since he isn't here.

“Where's Rossi?” you wonder briefly as you switch your computer on.

“Hotch,” Emily mumbles. You hum.

“Spence isn't here today?” JJ wonders as she glances around for your boy genius.

You shake your head, plopping down in your chair with your arm thrown over the back. “No, he had to stay home,” you answer. “Not feeling too well.”

Emily turns, raising a brow. “He's not sick, right?”

You hum, tilting your head slightly. You busy yourself with your password. “Not exactly.”

You hear her before you see her. She's wearing something dangly today.

“Where is my cutie patootie?” She sounds playfully vexed. “He hasn't come to see me yet.”

“Wow, everyone is worried about my boyfriend today,” you say, turning in your chair to face all your girls.

“Well, your boyfriend doesn't miss work without plenty of notice,” Emily replies.

You purse your lips, turning away to focus on your work. You're sure there's plenty of it today. “Something came up…”

There's a very brief silence. JJ chuckles, catching your unintended insinuation. “Oh…” she says, “was that something him?”

You crinkle your nose, turning right back around to show her how unimpressed you are by her joke. “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

You probably should have confirmed or denied because now they're very interested. To be fair, it was a rather inappropriate response to respond to (not that that has ever stopped any of you from prying into the other's personal lives).

Penelope’s face shifts from her confusion into something rather mischievous. “Oh. Oh! Oh.”

Emily leans forward, a smirk on her lips as she sets her elbow on her leg. “Why aren't you staying home then?”

You cross your legs, your foot over your knee to pull close to you. “Proving a point.”

“Oh,” Penelope says again. “Oh.”

“Are you going to keep saying ‘oh’?” you question, shaking your head at her.

She sits on your desk, her enthusiasm leaking out of her ears. Maybe if you let it, she'll deflate and have to go refill your air supply.

“Yes,” she nods definitely. “Because—Oh, my God. I knew you were both little freaks.”

She is way too excited about your sex life.

You roll your eyes at her. “What's freaky about me proving a point by coming to work?”

“The fact that your point–” she pokes you, “–is so freaky.”

Emily and JJ are eating this up. They've both fully abandoned their work to turn toward you and pry. JJ’s got her legs crossed, Emily's got hers spread as she leans forward. They're all holding coffee mugs in their hands in place of tea cups.

“What’d he do?” Emily asks. She's bobbing her brows.

You laugh, covering your face with your hand as you sigh. “If I tell you, you cannot tell Morgan. He will never let Spence live it down.” Poor Spencer would have to go through that every day. It's just mean.

JJ’s the first to respond. “Deal.”

“He's getting nothing outta me,” Emily nods.

“You have my silence.” Penelope pretends to lock her mouth with a key. She stuffs said imaginary key in her bosom.

“Promise?” you warn.

“Yes!” she exclaims. “My lips are sealed. That's what the key was for.”

You sigh, trying to hold back your hesitant smile as you go through the morning. “The…” you chuckle lightly. “The heat snuck up on us this morning.” Their understanding comes in various hums and mumbles. “Obviously, I'm a little hot, too. I told him I would call in to be with him, and he agreed because,” you lick your lips, effectively conveying your slight annoyance, “I'd likely ‘be too frayed to focus anyway’.”

“Oo.”

“Yikes,” Penelope winces.

You nod. “And I told him that I could last longer than him. He pulled out all his statistics, said that my ‘kind’ was statistically less controlled at this time than his. I took that as a challenge.”

JJ hums, “So would I if I were in your shoes.” She brings her cup to her lips.

“Please,” Emily scoffs. “If my girlfriend said that to me, it would be all over for her.”

You shrug. “I told him that I'd last the day without so much as a text. First to make contact loses.” You glance at your phone, searching for anything and finding nothing. “He's doing well so far. I thought he'd tap out after the first hour. He was really bad this morning.”

“Only…” Emily checks her watch, “seven more hours to go.”

It's only been an hour since you left the house. One hour. Singular.

This morning has been so slow, and it's only been an hour.

“Seven?”

You might give up now.

Emily chuckles, though she's sympathetic to your cause. “Hang in there. Make us proud.”

Penelope shrugs. “Hey, chicks before private parts and all that, but I will be rooting for Spencer. I have faith in him.” She makes a fist to show her firm stance in this race.

JJ sighs. “That's sweet, Pen, but he'll probably tap out within the next hour. I know I probably would.” She shrugs. “But it's not for a lack of trying.”

Penelope laughs at that. “And so would I, but he's strong. Right?”

You turn back around to face your computer, snickering to yourself. “You should see him in bed.”

You hold your hand out behind you. Emily smacks it before swiveling in her own chair. JJ and Penelope roll their eyes. She scoots off your desk to leave.

~

When your phone rings, “Penny” is shining on your screen like she's already in your face. You answer.

“I need news. Anything yet?”

You roll your eyes. She hadn't even waited for a hello. “You called me for this?”

“Has he texted you?” she insists.

Your leg starts jumping. “Nothing yet.”

It's a little frustrating. You've been here for how long? Spencer was about to burst this morning. After he'd proposed his little facts, you didn't even help him out before you left. Now he hasn't called or texted or even asked about you through any of your friends.

Penelope is ecstatic. “See?” She squeals.

“He's still got another three hours,” you say. “He'll break.”

“Oh, my wonder boy?” She giggles. “Never.”

You run a hand down your face at her support of him. It's sort of annoying because she's sort of right. Spencer is very stubborn when he wants to be. That's what happens when you know everything.

She hangs up on you. You put your phone down with a sigh and focus in again on your work. If you don't, you think you might lose (which would never happen).

“Pen?” Emily mumbles.

“Who else?”

~

It's the end of the day. The sun will be gone by the time you make it home. Not a single peep.

You're surrounded by the girls as you all step into the elevator. Penelope starts to say something, but you see Derek first.

“The door, the door, the door!” you whisper-shout.

You all start jabbing the close-door button, and you think briefly that you'll break it. All the boys look on, entirely taken aback by such behavior.

“Wait. Hold on!” The doors close in Derek's face.

You let out a breath of relief.

“He actually did it,” JJ smiles.

Emily shrugs, though she sighs a little. “I'm impressed.”

“No. No,” you wag your finger. “Not yet. The deal is no contact, not no texting. When I get home, he'll be all over me, and then he'll lose.”

Your annoyance is funny to them. 

Penelope almost whines. “First to touch? That's evil.”

Emily doesn't sympathize. “But worth it. Gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Wait, so what happens if you win?” JJ wonders.

“Spencer has to wash the dishes for a month No questions asked.”

“Oh.” Penelope hums, then she sighs. “Underwhelming.”

Emily leans against the wall. “I thought he already does dishes.”

“He does,” you say. “Gladly, I might add, because he knows I hate them.”

The doors slide open on the main floor. They continue to follow you.

“Then what's the challenge?” Emily asks.

You shrug. “Dignity.” Your car beeps as you press on the key fob.

“Oh, please,” JJ scoffs. “It's pride. She just wants to prove she's better than him ‘cause she's an Alpha.”

You don't look at her. “Two things can be true.”

“So what's the real deal, huh?” Penelope’s voice shifts down, and her nose crinkles in a gremlin-like manner. “Loser gets down and dirty? Are we talking who'll cry first?”

You all turn to look at her. Her smirk fades a little, and she rolls her eyes with a scoff. “What? I might be rainbows and unicorns but ya girl gets down in poundtown.”

JJ’s brows raise. She smiles as she nods, “Alright, then.”

To be honest, the parameters of the deal were fuzzy. Whatever you propose, Spencer will love. Whatever Spencer proposes, you will love. You're compatible in that way.

The ideas are making it hard to pretend you've got it together.

“I guess we'll never know.” Emily leans on your car, crossing her ankles.

“Know what?”

Morgan's voice breaks the four of you from your huddle. You turn to him as he comes forth, the Hotch and Rossi in tow. He puts his hands on his hips.

“What do you mean?”

Derek scoffs, as if to say “don't play with me”. You look at him expectantly, and he just shakes his head at you. “You said you guess you'll never know.”

You continue to play dumb. It's rather fun that way. “What won't you know?”

Derek crosses his arms over his broad chest. He raises a brow at all of you, waiting for someone to break and not expecting it to come from you or Emily.

“Does it have something to do with the kid?” He glances at Penelope, and you have to fight the urge to stare her down and remind her of the deal.

But alas. “Hearing you call him ‘kid’ in this context is really tripping me up.”

“So it is!”

“Penelope!” you scold.

She winces, covering her face to hide her blush and her smile. “I'm sorry!” Everyone's laughing by now.

You sigh, turning back to Derek. “Spencer is fine. Hotch knows. He was a little under the weather this morning.”

Everyone looks at Hotch. His face is as blank as ever. Until it isn't.

It is so, so slight. But the faintest glimmer of a smirk curves his lip, and you know it's over. The traitor.

“Oh-ho!” Derek claps. “I saw that.” He turns to you. “You mean longin’ to be under those sheets?”

You think it's funny that Derek thinks he's funny.

“Good job, Garcia,” JJ laughs.

“Sorry!”

Emily pokes fun. “Hotch, what happened to poker face?”

His hands come up. His smile is wide.

“It's fine. Spence is fine,” you insist. You begin to realize that it has been all day since he's seen you, and he's probably going to lose his mind soon. “And if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure he's doing okay.”

Derek laughs, lightly smacking your shoulder. “Go rock his world, girl.”

Penelope raises a stern finger to him, “You are in time out, mister!”

“Oh, yeah?” He raises a brow. “Well, hopefully I can be in time out with you. How's that sound?”

They both walk away cheerfully. Derek glances over his shoulder at you, waving and then pretending to zip his lips. You smile back at him. At least Spencer can live in relative peace then.

Emily nudges your shoulder with hers. “Make us proud.” Her phone chimes. You watch something in her face change as she sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Speaking of which, I have to get home.”

She leaves abruptly, making haste in getting to her car to what you believe is going to be a good night for her.

JJ laughs as she leaves. “Still rooting for Spence.”

You look at Hotch and Rossi. “He'll be in tomorrow,” you promise.

“Oh!” Rossi’s brows shoot up, and they both laugh heftily. “Okay, then.”

“Take care. Both of you,” Hotch says. “And let me know if he's still…sick.”

You purse your lips as you nod. “Will do.”

Rossi starts backing up, wagging his finger at you as he does. “You two have fun now. But not too much fun.”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks, Gramps.”

“Hey. Respect your elders.”

Hotch laughs again. “Have a good night.” He pats Rossi on the shoulder as they both turn to leave. You open your door, stepping inside as you wave your goodbyes.

~

“Spence?” You peek your head past the door, looking around the living room to find him absent. “Baby, I'm home.”

When you close the door behind you, you're hit with it. His scent is everywhere. It's like he decided to rub his body all over every square inch of the house. If you weren't hot before, you definitely are now.

You press your thighs together, placing a hand on the wall to support you as you try to focus. How were you supposed to win if he has scented the whole house? You know he did it on purpose, too. He did this last time, when you actually stayed home. You didn't leave the bed for two days. (When you did leave, it was only because you got called in for a case.)

It's bad when you get to the bedroom. The door is closed, and you can smell it leaking out of the crack under the door. You think maybe you'll hold your breath when you get inside, but it seems highly illogical, so you don't.

As you push the door open, you're almost dizzy with the scent. “Oh, my,” you mutter, your eyes finding a lump in the bed surrounded by clothes and blankets. “It's hot in here. You should really open a window.”

Spencer sits up. His chest is bare, so are his legs, and you assume the rest of him. His hair is a tousled mess on his head. He looks almost precious like this.

“You're late,” he states plainly. He looks more grieved than he does upset.

“Sorry, baby. Got caught up talking.” You walk past him to get to the window, cracking it open to let some fresh air into the room before you lose. You turn to him, your hands on your hips as you smile. “Are you hungry? Been wanting to cook all day, for some reason.”

He shakes his head. He almost looks tired. His face is pinkish. “I'm not hungry.”

“No?” You lean against the side of the bed, facing him with a tilted head. “What's wrong? You look upset.”

He shakes his head weakly. “I'm not upset. I'm just… I want…” His voice is slightly slurred.

You bend down to him, so close that you can smell every little thing on him. Conditioner in his hair, lotion and sweat on his skin, you. He's almost shaking when your faces are so close that he thinks you'll kiss him.

“You look like you're burning up,” you mutter, keeping your breath shallow. “You sure you're okay?”

He wishes you would touch him. Any touch. It didn't even have to be a kiss. You could put the back of your hand on his forehead. You could brush your knuckles over his cheek. Anything.

You'd have to admit, you're wanting the same thing. But, no. He started it. You're not going to finish it.

“Please.”

Oh, what music.

You raise a brow, tilting your head to the other side. “What's that?”

“I'm sorry. I was wrong.”

You contain your grin. You play dumb, looking over his face and humming. “About what, sweetheart?”

He shakes his head. “I didn't last longer. I tried, but I couldn't.”

“That’s not true,” You see him start to lean forward. You pull back, gutting gently. “You didn't text me. Not once. You didn't call anyone. I haven't heard a thing.”

He almost whines. “Are you angry with me?”

“Angry?” you smile. “Of course not . That was the challenge. I can't be mad just because you tried to win.”

You linger there a moment, but it's getting to be too much. You straighten your spine slowly. You almost mess up as you reach your hand up to stroke his cheek, stopping halfway just to drop it back to your side. You sigh and walk away.

“How were you,” you wonder, “while I was gone?”

“Please. It hurts.”

He sounds so sad, you almost give in just because. You don't want him hurting. But you have a point to prove. Besides, the longer you wait it out, the better he'll be by the time you're done with him.

So you continue. “What hurts?” You slip your shoes off by the door, stretching your arms over your head with a long sigh.

“Everything hurts.” He can't think straight. It's becoming too much.

“Poor baby,” you mutter.

He needs you to do something, but he doesn't want to accept defeat. It's not fully a conscious decision. Spencer has always had trouble asking for help. It's what happens when you know everything. It's just more fun for him when he doesn't feel like he's burning from the inside out.

“I wasn't good,” he tries. “I tried to fix it on my own, but I couldn't. I knew I couldn't, and I tried anyway.”

You hum. “That's okay. What else were you going to do? Wait for me?”

“I'm supposed to.”

You shrug. “You are supposed to.” You walk to the edge of the bed, tilting your head at him. “But you didn't.”

“Please,” he mumbles, moving closer. He holds his hands out, palms up to offer them to you.

“I'm not falling for that, Spencer. If you want me to help, you know how to do that.” Any second now. “Don't you?”

Spencer just stares at you for a second, his face seemingly pained with his need. He sits up on his knees, the blankets falling away from him as he cradles your face in the palms of his hands.

Your lashes flutter at the feeling of his soft hands on your cheeks, but you continue to watch him, your face blank.

He gives in. “Please.”

You cup his elbow with your hand. With a sigh, Spencer leans in and captures your mouth in his. It's hot and rough, full of a raw desire for the other.

He's insistent in the way he kisses you. If he hadn't been so needy before, you'd think he was making you concede. His hand cups the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your waist as he brings you flush against his body.

You let him move you for now, setting your arms over his shoulders as you run your fingers through his hair.

When you grasp a handful of his soft, brown locks, he whimpers when you pull it back. You have to fight the urge to clench your teeth. “Shh, it's okay,” you whisper against his lips. You keep him firmly in place, kissing his forehead and his nose and his lips. “You weren't very good today, were you?”

You feel his body tense against you. “You are angry.”

You shake your head, rutting gently. “I'm not angry with you.” You let go of his hair to glide your fingertips along his hairline. “I'm just disappointed.”

He tugs at the hem of your shirt. “That's not better.”

You smile. “It's not, is it?” You pinch his chin in your hand, brushing your fingers along the length of his neck. “But don't worry, baby, we're gonna fix that together, okay?”

He nods. “Okay.”

You kiss him quickly before stepping out of his grasp. “Lie back.” Spencer sits back on the bed, awaiting you with pleading eyes. You smile. “I'm gonna go get ready for you. When I come back, I want you to be right there. Okay?”

He nods. “Okay.”

“Good.”

~

When you return, Spencer is laying back against the headboard like he's dying of the plague. You lean your bare body against the doorframe, sighing gently as you watch him.

You gently knock on the wall, bidding his eyes open as he turns his head to you. His breath hitches, catching again as he sits up some more.

Slowly, you make your way to the bed, climbing on top of the sheets and crawling over to him. Your lips meet as you straddle his waist, hovering over him as you relish in the closeness.

With a feather light touch, you reach down to take his cock in your hand. He winces, inhaling sharply through his teeth as his eyes squeeze shut. You pull back to look at it, swollen and weeping. It looks painful, and you suspect it is. “Oh,” you sigh lightly. “Look at what you did to yourself, baby. How will I be able to do anything with this? You're already ready to burst.”

He whines. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.” He gasps woefully when your thumb brushes the head. “Can you fix it?”

You do not envy him. Your clit is aching, your nipples are peaked, and you'll start sweating any moment now—but Spencer is suffering. He really needs this, and you're about to be cruel.

Oh, well. At least he'll learn a lesson.

You sigh, letting go of him. “I have an idea. But I need to be warmed up first, yeah?”

You kiss him before throwing your leg from over his body. He sits up, switching spots with you to let you sit against the headboard, your legs spread wide. You've been needing this all day, but you can't admit to that yet. At least Spencer had the whole house, filled with your scent in every fiber of fabric or every splinter of wood. You've been trapped at the office with nothing but his desk too far away from you to keep you company.

Spencer scurries to the spot between your legs. He might as well be salivating with how excited he is to be there. He slips his arms underneath your thighs, scooping them up and pulling you in close. Before he does anything, he looks up at you. “May I?”

He asks so sweetly. It'd be cruel not to oblige.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

Spencer's mouth is on you in a second, his hot tongue laving through your folds and his lips suckling on your clit. He's eager and desperate to taste you, to run his mouth over your cunt and cover himself in you.

You moan as you card your fingers through his hair, bucking your hips up into his mouth every time he moans right back. He eats you out like you're a feast fit for a king, licking and sucking and slurping you up.

“Oh, fuck. That's it, baby. Keep going.” You huff, savoring each flick of his tongue. “Good. Good boy.”

He makes a dreadful sound, so filled with pleasure that slick and spit seep from you like sap. You grip his hair tight, encouraging him with grinding hips and deep moans and fluttering folds. “C’mon, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.” He plunges his tongue inside of you, moaning into your dripping cunt.

He's always been very eager to do this, to taste you and to lick you whole. He's always been very good at this. You're on the verge already—all the pent of desire between the two of you makes it all the worse.

When you cum, he's all over you. His tongue and his lips devour you. Your thighs clamp around his head so tight, you think that you'll crush his skull. Not that he'll mind much. He's always enjoyed being in this position—you think he'd consider it a wonderful death.

The pleasure rushes through your body and makes you tremble as you arch your back and soak in the feeling of it all. And when the trembling has eased, you let out a heavy sigh and guide Spencer away before he works toward a second or fifth orgasm. He will, and he has.

“Good‎. Good job, baby,” you smile drunkenly, carding your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you. His face is pink, almost darker. His chin and nose glisten with your arousal. You kiss it from his face.

He stares at you like your approval is going to make him cum all on its own. His lashes are fluttering, and he looks like he's barely holding on to reality.

You kiss his forehead to bring him back again. “Now lie back, and let me take a look.”

Spencer does as he's told. He sits up and trades places with you once again. As he lays against the pillows, you shuffle through clothes and blankets to half-straddle his legs.

He's gotten worse (as you supposed he would). When you touch his aching cock, he winces again. “Ah!” he exclaims, like you'd just hit him in the gut.

You shush him gently, using your fingertips to brush over the length of him. His arousal is pooling at the tip of his weeping cock. You do not envy him right now. You do pity him.

Though not enough to give him what he wants.

You drag your fingertips gently along his cock, grazing your thumb along the head and watching his belly tense and un-tense. You lean down, pressing your lips to his chest, and then to his belly, and then to his lower belly.

He whines when your breath fans over his erection, even worse when your lips kiss the base of his cock, and then come back up to kiss the head.

He's muttering little pleas under his breath, but he's too unfocused to form any actual sentences. You scarcely lick and suck on him, not nearly enough to get him off, but enough to elicit desperate moans and whimpers from your poor boy.

Your fingers curl around him, teasing the veins running underneath his cock or gliding gently over his balls. He's trembling, he needs you so bad.

You really should just put him out of his misery, but you find it too sweet right now. You clench your thighs and bite your lip. You bring your own free hand to your clit and rub inefficient circles over the bundle of nerves. It won't be enough right now to help you, but it sure does drive him crazy.

Spencer can't keep up with his own breath. He struggles to keep it steady when you touch him like you do. Every time you think he'll cum, you grip the base of his cock until that malcontent fills his eyes, and then you start again. You've done it a lot thus far, he's so close to the edge that everything you do nearly sets him off.

You stroke his length with a lazy, limp hand as you look down on him. “How's that? How do you feel, honey?”

Sweat sticks to his forehead, his neck—he's covered in it. His eyes are dazed. You're not entirely sure he's present right now. He's definitely not here enough to string together a coherent sentence on the first try.

“Please,” he whines. “I need it. Need you.”

There's no emphasis, or perhaps the whole thing is an emphasis. He's too far gone for you to tell.

“Yeah?” You try to catch his line of sight. His eyes find you and stick to your face, but you can tell it's not quite processing fully. “That's not what it felt like today.” You shake your head, tutting as you keep stroking, slowly building your pace. “You said you could last without me. Now look at you: you can't even make a full sentence.”

You grip the base of his cock as you feel him beginning to buck into your hand. He groans, clenching his teeth and slamming his eyes shut. “‘M sorry. I'm s-sorry.”

“You are?” You sweep the pad of your thumb over the slit in his tip. “Sorry about what?”

He sits up on his elbows. “What I said. I was wrong,” he insists.

You tilt your head just as you flick your wrist. You watch the muscles in his neck tense. “What were you wrong about, Dr. Reid?”

His hand reaches out to hold your side, grasping without grabbing you. “P-Please.”

You lean forward, pulling his face close to yours as you continue to stroke your fingertips along the underside of his cock. “No. You don't get anything from me until you say it.”

His breath is entirely unsteady. He struggles to keep up as he makes these pitiful sounds. “Omegas don't have more discipline,” he huffs out, his words coming in a rush in an attempt to get them out. “I was wrong. I would-wouldn't last longer than you. I didn't. I lost, I was wrong.”

His hair sticks to his forehead. He looks like he might start crying.

“Good,” you smile, brushing the hair from his face and pressing a kiss to his temple. His nose nuzzles in the crook of your neck, his lips stick to your own damp skin. “Good boy. So good for me.” He whines lightly, worse when you rub his tip. “I just need you to do one more thing for me now, okay? Can you do that?”

He looks at you with glossy eyes. “Yes. Anything.”

You smile gently, your face unchanging as you simply say, “Apologize.”

His brows pull together. A tear rolls down the side of his face. “I did.”

You shake your head. “No,” you squeeze his base, “you said you're sorry, and that you were wrong.” He sighs shakily. “I want an apology. A good one. What did you do? Why did you do it? Why won't you be doing it again?”

He whimpers when you tickle his balls with your fingertips, pulling your hand away to watch his face scrunch up discontentedly before continuing again.

“C’mon, baby,” you encourage.

“I-I’m sorry for saying I don't n-need you,” he stammers. “I do. I thought I knew everything, but I don't. And-and–”

You raise your brows. “And what, Spencer?”

“And I won't do it again because–” His words are interrupted by a moan when you tug on his cock.

“Because what, huh?”

He places his hand on your cheek, gazing up at you with teary eyes and a face red as cherries. “Because I need you. Because I love you. Please, I love you.”

Your hand stops entirely, looking upon him with softened eyes and a gentle face. You bend down to whisper against his lips. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he breathes. “Fuck, I love you.”

You set a hand on his cheek, brushing your thumb over the reddened skin and easing hair from his face. His face is so warm, he's burning beneath your palm. “I love you, too, Spencer,” you smile. He hums into your mouth as you kiss him, leaning into you and your warmth. He missed you so much.

“See?” You cup his neck in your hands, cradling him in your palms as you look over him. “That wasn't so hard, now was it?” You kiss him again, but he's shaking beneath you. You hover above him, straddling his lap and placing a hand on his chest.

“You ready?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, grabbing at your sides and letting his hands feel your hot skin. “Yes, please.” He starts to ramble again.

“Shh. It's okay, it's okay,” you whisper against his lips.

You line his cock with your pussy, almost as needy as him as you anticipate the feeling. You sink down on him, and you're so dreadfully wet and aching that he slips right in with ease.

You both moan, long and deep sounds that reverberate in your chests. Your eyes fall shut, your folds flutter around him, your mouth parts. A gentle curse falls from your lips, and Spencer is glad he isn't the only one who needed this so bad.

He sits deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cock. He's so hard, you can feel him pulsing inside of you. His hands take hold of your waist and squeeze so hard that you think you'll bruise. You clench around him and try to keep your breath steady.

He really needs you to stay focused right now, you know it. You set your hands on his belly, holding his close as you slowly begin to grind yourself in him.

He really isn't going to last long. You've been teasing him for the better part of ten or fifteen minutes, pulling him to the edge just to ease it and watch him suffer. You'll be surprised if he holds out the first minute.

“That’s it, baby,” you sigh, your voice a little pitchy with your own pleasure. He grasps your hips and guides you a bit as you roll your hips steadily atop him. Your gentleness only lasts a moment. In the next, you're grinding atop him like you’re the one who's been trapped in the house all day begging for an Alpha to come help you.

Your sounds mix with his, almost as pitiful as you both whine and moan, blinded by the pleasure finally being awarded to you.

Spencer's head tosses back into the pillows. He clenches his jaw and tries to stifle his moan as he holds your hips down on top of him. You grip his shoulders, gasping as he cums inside of you. He moans your name, grabbing at flesh like he's kneading dough.

You shush him gently, easing your pace just enough to let him come down. Once his breaths settle down, you kiss him as you start again.

If there's one thing you love about this time of the month, it's how fast Spencer recovers. He can go for rounds and rounds at a time before he needs to rest.

You pick up Spencer's hand, guiding it to your belly as you press his palm into you. “You feel that?” you mutter, adjusting his hand. “That's you. That's you inside me. You're so—Ah!—so fucking deep, baby. Making me feel so good.”

He huffs, thrusting up into you suddenly. He laughs a little when he feels the way it moves, hears the way you moan. “It's perfect. You're perfect,” he rambles. He buries his head in the pillows.

When his dull nails dig into your skin again, you take his hands and pin his wrists above his head. He gasps and moans as you fuck him, riding him with all the vigor you have.

“You like that?” you huff, your control slipping with every roll of your hips. “This feel better?”

“Yes!” He's a mess, laying there and letting you ride him. “Yes, so much better.”

You can feel some of his cum leaking out of you, joining your arousal and making the schelp! of your thrusts easy. It soaks your thighs and his waist, creating this loud smacking sound that fills the bedroom.

Holding both his wrists in one hand isn't easy but it's manageable as you bring your hand to your clit, rubbing fast circles that immediately spur you on.

“Fuck,” you huff. “Spence, I'm gonna cum.” He answers you by thrusting his hips up some more, meeting your thighs as you come down.

Your legs shake as you cum, your cunt fluttering and gushing around him. One of your hands slips under his head to pull at his hair, enjoying the way he gasps. You attach your mouth to his throat, biting and sucking and licking.

It's like that for a while. It gets really wet and really loud. You ride Spencer for a while, holding him and kissing him and biting him while you both keep coming undone, moaning and gasping each other's names and grabbing at limbs to keep you steady.

Spencer is trembling beneath you. He's a complete mess, grabbing at your thighs and bucking his hips up to meet yours. His hair is all over his face, you keep having to brush it away. You praise him with every roll of your hips, grinding down on him and telling him how good he's doing. He whimpers every time you do.

The dynamics are always so different during heats like this. Spencer requires your lead, and you enjoy taking it. But when things are normal, when the need isn't so high, it's not so desperate.

That's not what this is. It's a raw feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach and demands attention as you hold Spencer down by his throat and sink your teeth into his flesh as you shudder around him in the middle of another orgasm (which makes him lose it and cum inside of you again).

You look at him as you settle again, catching your breath as you move slowly on top of him. His eyes are glossy, he's beet red. He looks so precious. His hand reaches up to cup your breasts, grazing the pad of his thumb over your nipple.

“Better?” you breathe. “Does that feel better, honey?”

He nods, not fully present. “Yes.”

“Good. That's good.” You sigh, bending down to kiss him gently. “Can you do something for me, love?”

“Anything.”

You brace yourself, pulling yourself up from his lap as he slips out of you. He whines, bucking his hips up to meet you again. “Shh. It's okay.”

You're shaky as you sit down, reaching over to grab his cock. It looks better, but he's still hard. He's got a couple loads left in him. If you weren't in a rut, you don't know how you would be able to keep up.

“Go ahead and get on top of me, okay?” Your voice has lost some of its intensity, replaced with breathless gentleness. At this point, you're just trying to make sure Spencer is okay, and you're losing some of your energy to guide him on top.

You lean into the plush pillows, keeping your hips up as he sits up to follow. Spencer grabs your hips gently, guiding himself inside of you once again as he presses his chest into your back.

You groan into the pillow when he thrusts, reaching one hand to card through his hair and setting the other palm up for him to hold. Spencer buries his face into your neck, kissing you needily as one of his hands plays with your breast. “Do whatever you want, I'm okay,” you whisper, clenching around him. The rock of his hips becomes insistent. He thrusts into you in quick movements, though not as rough in fear of hurting you. 

“It's okay, baby,” you breathe again. He whines, squeezing your hand a little tighter. He listens anyway, adjusting his pace as his hips snap into yours, reaching deep and groaning with every thrust. You moan, pressing your face into the pillow. “Good, just like that.”

Spencer lets go, rocking back and forth and moaning and grabbing. He holds you carefully as he fucks you recklessly, enjoying the shudder and the swell of his body when he cums.

His fingers find your clit, and he rubs at it as he continues to thrust. He rubs tight circles, coaxing the frayed nerves with every intention of making you feel as good as he does. He kisses the back of your neck, he grinds his hips deep inside of you.

You hear the way his breath starts to rise again, the way his hips stutter once more. You grip his hair a little tighter, clenching around him and huffing when your own edge starts nipping at you.

“Baby,” he whines. “M’so close. Almost there.”

“C’mon, honey.” Your voice is a whisper muffled by the pillows. “C’mon, c’mon. I got you, c’mon.”

He flicks his wrist, and you gasp. Everything is covered in a white haze as you clench and gush around him. Spencer moans weakly, burying himself deep inside, pushing forward against you just to get closer. With a final thrust, he spills inside of you with the most dreadful sound, filling you to the brim with the warmth of his cum.

Spencer wraps his arms around your midsection, keeping you close to him and sticking together with sweat and warmth.

He rolls onto his side, taking you with him. He's still buried inside of you, refusing to pull out just yet as he lays there, catching his breath. You lay there, resting against the bed and enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. You don't know how many times he came, but you do know that if you weren't so dedicated to your medications, there is no earthly way you would come out of this without being bred.

It takes a while for Spencer to fully come back around. By the way his breath slows and his arms hold you, you'd say he'd fallen asleep for a moment. You don't blame him, you've dazed out a couple times as well.

When he comes to, he presses his lips to your skin. “Baby?” he mumbles, slipping out of you on the way to look at your face. Your eyes are closed, and you look tired. “Are you okay?”

You nod, smiling a little when you feel the way some of the stickiness is spilling out of you. “Mhm,” you hum lazily. You turn over in his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek against his chest. He's forced to move his arms to sit over your shoulders. He doesn't mind.

“I missed you today, Spence,” you whisper. “Fuck, I thought I was gonna die.”

He hums, smiling a bit. He kisses your forehead, petting you gently. It takes a long time for him to move, to bear to pull away from you just to stand and go to the bathroom. He comes back with a cloth that he uses so carefully to clean the both of you up with. You're absolutely stuffed.

You drape an arm over your eyes, sighing heavily. “Next time this happens, we stay inside.”

“Agreed.”

You stuck your pinky out, and he interlocks his with a smile. He goes back to the bathroom to rinse off the cloth.

You sit up, leaning into Spencer when he comes back to the bedroom, sitting next to you with an arm around your waist. He really must have missed you because he buries his face in the crook of your neck and stays there.

After a while, you hear his stomach growl. It's this deep, monstrous sound that pulls you away from him.

You look at him expectantly, standing up and taking his face in your hands. “When was the last time you ate?” Spencer blushes, glancing away from you. You sigh, though not unkindly. “You haven't eaten today.”

He swallows thickly. “I was focused on other things.”

You chuckle lightly, kissing his forehead. “C’mon. Let's get you fed.”

You go to pull him with you, but he squeezes your hand. You return to his grasp. “I can do it.” His arms wrap around you and hold you tight so you can't escape.

“Hush,” you tap his nose. “I'll cook, we'll eat.”

He considers this for a moment. “Can we have sex after?”

You laugh, guiding his face to your chest as you tuck your chin over his head. You stroke his back. “You're so needy,” you laugh giddily.

He hums. “Sorry.”

A sour feeling threatens to curl in your belly. You pull him away to look at his face. He looks a little sad. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” you tell him, soft but firm. “Nothing.”

His brows furrow slightly. “But you said–”

“I wasn't upset with you. I was just playing it out for you.” You stroke your thumb over the apple of his cheek. You could never be upset with your Spencer.

He pouts now. You can't help but giggle at the way he looks, lips pursed and brows furrowed. He's silly, you think. “That was mean.”

You shrug. “You like when I'm mean to you.”

“I know.”

You pull him in and kiss him again. He's insistent on pulling close, always insistent. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips.

His voice is so small, so gentle. You taste his love on his tongue. “I love you, too.”

He brings you back in, and you slot your lips along his neck. He tilts his chin up to give you space. You kiss and suck at his skin, knocking his chin up some more as you find a nice spot beneath his ear.

Spencer hums when you bite him, sinking teeth into flesh to lay claim to him once again. His hands tighten around your waist. You feel his tired length bob against your thigh. He's yours. He'll always be yours.

When you kiss it better, Spencer dips his lips to your neck to do the same.

“Now let's go eat,” you smile, running your hands through his hair affectionately. You make him stand, tucking yourself into his side. You both need the support. “I'll make you whatever you want.”

He sounds almost pleading when he asks you. “And then sex?”

You chuckle heftily. “Of course we're gonna sex again.” He smiles excitedly.

~

You both return to work the day after the next day. You had to call off when you woke up with Spencer's head between your legs. You'd both mentally prepared yourselves in the car beforehand for the stares you were going to get from the team.

You walk inside next to Spencer, standing so close to him that it's no wonder they all immediately smirked at you. Even worse, Morgan is sitting on your desk.

“Nice outfit,” Emily points out, gesturing to Spencer in his purple turtleneck. He had to hide his blush, and you know he wished he could hide it in your neck.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. She glances at you, raising her brows expectantly. When you gave her a very small, very brief thumbs up by your side, she made a little “yes” as she spun back around to her desk. She sticks her hand out to JJ, who grumbles as she opens her wallet.

“You're lookin’ good kid. Guess you're all healed up now?” Morgan quips. When Spencer comes to his desk, which sits right across from you, the man whistles. “You're smellin’ ‎good.”

Yes. Spencer smells like you. He smells exceedingly like you. You'd spent a full day wrapped up in each other, and you'd bitten him more times than you can count. (Spencer could count. He'd say twelve times. It was eleven, but you bit him before you left the house. He's not at all upset by it.)

“I see the brains and the brawns have returned.” Rossi walks in with a newspaper under his arm, and Penelope at his side.

You roll your eyes, shooing Morgan away so you can sit down. Penelope shuffles up to you and bends down to whisper in your ear. “Did one of you cry?”

You purse your lips, considering for a moment before nodding with a stifled grin. “Yes! I was right,” she whispers.

“How was your fever?” Morgan nudges Spencer, whose mouth opens and shuts in a struggle to respond. He glances at you for help.

“Spence, how many files do you have on your desk?”

Without looking down, he answers. “Thirty-one.”

“Wow! And I have…” You look down.

“Forty-four.” Christ.

“Forty-four,” you repeat. “So I think we should get to work, huh?” Spencer nods enthusiastically.

Morgan chuckles, holding his hands up in defense as he backs away. “Okay, I get it. You get to work, little lovebirds.”

“Glad to have you back.” Penelope hugs Spencer. A look flashes across her face when she catches a whiff of his hair. She looks at you, covers her grin, and then rushes to join Derek.

Everyone decides to leave you alone. You've started turning on your computer when Spencer stands and reaches across your desk. He picks up eight of your files and sits back down with them added to his stack. When you go to reach for a couple to even it out, he lightly smacks your hand without even looking.

You roll your eyes, smiling at your screen as you tap in your password.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 Dr. Reid taglist: @swwanlake Tag yourself here...

[teabunnee]

I saw your post about an S.O wanting to touch the wilder boyos ears, could i perhaps request any thoughts on an s.o wanting to touch / decorate / paint Eironn's antlers? I know thats all i wanted to do when i saw him!

Eironn doesn’t quite know what to say when you ask him the question. 

His eyes go wide, and his lips part. His hand go up to his horns. 

He’s not offended, far from it! But he didn’t expect the question at all. 

Many people, wilder and others alike, had told him his antlers were impressive or request to touch them. He’d denied them. But if it was you… 

He nods and your smile alone is worth the embarrassment. 

Eironn is a very good model, very patient and sits still as you work, even leaning down to let you get a better angle. His only flaw is that his eyes are completely fixated on you and that his blush never fades. 

If you start a conversation, he’s happy to talk with you, but he’ll be a bit distracted, is all. 

It’s a chance to see your features, and it’s amazing to see you so hard at work. Your face glows with a mesmerising determination. Is this how he looks when he’s training? (Yes)  

Eironn is surprisingly neutral about any direction you go in decorating his horns. It is an artist’s best and worst outcome: an empty canvas, an easy client. He stares at you with such open, trusting eyes. Don’t betray him with something too silly, ok? Well, if it is silly, he’ll wear it anyway in public with no shame, so that might backfire. 

He does prefer more natural decorations, like plants weaved into his branches, but give him something with a bit of gold, to go with his hair, and he looks so regal.

Hand him a mirror, and he will stare at himself in awe. Eironn has never seen himself as beautiful, per se, despite how people talk about him, but with your efforts, he looks…there is a bloom of warmth in his chest. He feels proud, you made him see himself as something…more. And…it’s like a claim, his heart hammers in his chest. 

He thanks you with such gentleness, with such awe, like a blessing from Misarte herself.

He does his best to keep the decorations on for as long as possible, though any dangly decorations are removed, in case they are damaged. he protects his antlers fiercely now, no enemy can get close to him. Should the decorations wear away, he comes to you, with a softness that turns hearts into melted brie cheese.

[catsrwitches]

I love how clearly in ofmd clothes and identity are closely linked and I’ve been thinking about how so far the only times we see Ed being himself he’s always wearing someone else’s clothes. 

And while yes, Stede makes him comfortable enough to let Ed’s true self peek through his mask even when he's still wearing Blackbeard's clothes, there's a limit to how much he can be himself while effectively wearing a costume and impersonating a fictionalized version of himself. Honorable mention to the purple shirt though, the color we know symbolizes his feelings for Stede and possibly the most of Ed we see while he's still somewhat Blackbeard. (By the way, I find it so telling that the first time we see him without his jacket is off the ship and in front of only Stede and Lucius)

The leathers we see him in for almost the entirety of both s1 and s2 are the physical representation of Blackbeard, a persona Ed literally puts on every morning. We even see Ed kill Blackbeard by throwing the clothes overboard when he finally feels safe enough to be only Ed. I feel like it's only at the very end of season 2, after he fishes the clothes back from the sea, that there's a clear distinction between the two identities and he can effectively channel Blackbeard to protect his loved ones without losing Ed in the process.

The first time we see Ed consider the possibility of living as his true self is at the end of season 1 at the privateering academy while wearing clothes that were given to him. And again, back on the ship when he tries to build the confidence to be just Ed before Izzy takes that away from him he's wearing Stede’s red robe. 

The same happens in season 2. After throwing Blackbeard overboard we see him briefly in another one of Stede's robes before changing into Buttons' clothes. 

That's why one among the many things I’d love to see in s3 is Ed in a bunch of outfits that truly represent him now that he has the liberty to explore what's like to just be Ed. Both because that would allow us to get to know Ed even better and because I just know his fits would go hard.

We know he loves fine fabrics, but the only times we see him wearing fancy clothes is again to put on a persona and perform as someone else (Stede and Jeff). And we know he loves accessories, we see him wearing multiple necklaces in both seasons, he always wears rings, and we even see him in dangly earrings. Not to mention of course the seed pearls necklace he wears throughout s2. Even in the gravy basket his subconscious self dresses up a little during his skit as an innkeeper by pinning his hair up and sticking an improvised boutonnière to his shirt. 

tl;dr please let us get a season 3 so we can see Ed rock a bunch of cool outfits

[mostlyghostlyy]

Do you think Dale would like it if his s/o had a lot of piercings and or tattoos?

I'd like to think that Dale has at least one tattoo.

I mean, as the old Rockstar he is, he's bound to have one or two. We didn't get a good chance to glimpse his arms, as they were constantly covered.(Damn shame because I'm a huge arm person. woof woof bark bark), but I wholeheartedly think he has a sleeve on one arm, if not both. I also would think that he has/had his ears pierced at one point.

So I think yes, he would enjoy a little body modification in that form. Tattoos I think he'd love ogling over. Twisting and turning your arms in his hand to get a better look at the craftsmanship behind them. He's the type of person to ask you about the meaning behind each one, and if it hurt a lot to get it done. Loves exploring your body and finding new landmarks. Whenever you're cuddling together, he's running his fingers over your tattoos. Tracing the line art with his finger gently.

I bet this bitch absolutely LOVES tramp stamps. Any lower body tattoo sends him into a feverish flurry of barks and growls. You just know he pulls the back of your pants down to peek in public. Slotting his index and middle finger in-between the fabric and skin and rubbing harshly at the ink. Cooing about how sexy you look with the marking portrayed for the community.

He'll insist on getting matching tattoos. Maybe something that will declare his dominance as your lover. Although he'd settle for something simple and cute if that's more your style. I think he'd want you to get his name tattooed, and he'd get yours tattooed. Almost like a pact in a way, sorta seals the deal. Maybe he'd write out a little custom note written in his cypher. Batting puppy dog eyes while he begs you to get it etched into your skin. “It will be romantic, Angel” he purrs, placing a hand above your breast, “I want it riiiiiiiggghhht, here.” (I'd still decode and proofread it first)

Piercings I know he'd also find hot. Especially ones in more intimate areas. Something particularly arousing to pull you around with a single tug of a tiny metal trinket. The pull and leniency of the skin. Knowing that if he yanks just a little rougher, your flesh will tear and bleed. It's tempting after all.

Nipple piercings are by far his favorite. Twisting the ring or stud just until you cry out or whine in pain. Watching as the skin flushes red from the abuse. Cooing apologies he'll take your wounded breast into his mouth and suck it gently. Mouth lolling around the metal bead, flicking it with his tongue. He has no apprehension. Settling down with him, he can't help himself. His hand always finding its way up your shirt, toying with the piercing almost mindlessly.

Belly button piercings are very similar to the one mentioned before. He loves the long dangly jewelry. Drives him insane when you walk around in a short shirt, stomach freely exposed to his wandering eyes. Suddenly he's kneeling in front of you, pulling at the site trying to expose your bellybutton so he can sink his tongue into it. Thrusting it in and out as if he's eating your pussy out. I think he loves to facefuck your navel, lapping at your hole until its nice and wet. Probably insists on shoving his fingers into your navel whenever he feels like it, playing with the jewelry that crowns it.

Tongue piercings he'd love too. The warm wet muscle contradicted by a solid metal stud runs unknown sensation through his body whenever you kiss or lick him. Press it into him whenever you're giving him neck kisses and he'll buck into you. Give him oral and he's loosing his grip when he feels the bead roll back and forth over his cock.

[hiskillingjar]

hi!!!!! can i request some hcs for lawrence oleander and ren hana with a fem (or gn) reader that likes to dye her hair a lot and has many piercings????

i hope you have a very good day!!!! :D

for sure! i've never done hcs before but i'll have a crack at it

also i know you asked for law and ren but i'm a strade enjoyer so i'm including him too pbltttt

ren 🦊

ren obviously loves it lol

like he's pretty high aesthetic already so he lovesssss a partner who has a specific aesthetic to em, especially if it's colourful and cute!

you wanna dye your hair? great, i've already gotten the bleach and all the colours you could want!! and all the special equipment for it too!! :3

he'd be hopeless if you asked for help though lol. like bleach stains where you did not want bleach

as soon as you were finished, he'd gush all over your new colour and compare it to an anime character he liked

"does that mean you could cosplay xyz pairing with me now?" like the idiot man he is

he for sure likes the piercings too. they make you look so tough and cool (despite being so sweet on him <3)

might encourage you to get more, especially nip or genital piercings, under the impression that they'd make sex more fun lmaoooo

lawrence 🥀

law isn't someone who's super aesthetically minded so they might not totally understand the motivation to dye your hair all the time

it takes so much effort to dye your hair so why do it so often, and all by yourself? you're getting it all over the bathroom! okay, okay, fine, i'll help you...

they'd be pretty gentle and patient in helping you dye your hair. they'd like the opportunity to be closer to you <3

never mind the intrusive thoughts they might have washing all the dye off in the shower. never mind all that!

(and might take a few snippings of your hair from the bathroom floor to keep...maybe)

they like the piercings normal amounts

might fiddle with them as a stim. don't wear hoops or danglies or they will get tugged on

they'd probably understand piercings in a similar way to their tattoos. maybe they'd even think about getting a stud or two themselves, just to see how it feels

what are your thoughts on tattoos? they might like those...

strade 🔨

he's pretty neutral about the hair dye and any. like, aesthetic choice you go for.

that's something you'd do with ren on a whim and he barely notices unless he sees a stain somewhere

"oh you dyed your hair?" yeah strade, i did it like three days ago, did you just notice? what is wrong with you?

he'd make snarky comments here and there but not really say anything

PIERCINGS THOUGH??? 🥵🥵🥵

strade was a bisexual in the early two-thousands german alternative scene (in my minds eye) so he'd FOR SURE be into piercings (and any body mods honestly)

has his own piercing scars hehehehe

ear piercings? the more the merrier! facial piercings? the best!

nipple or genital piercings? the man is a feral animal

might be so inclined to help you out with a few himself! i pierced my first boyfriend's ears with a needle, i can totally pierce your clit if you stop squirming~ <3

would absolutely pull at them to tease you (might insist on hoops through everything just to give him a better chance to pull)

would for sure push it too far and rip em out too <3

[ivymarquis]

Garnish

Pairing| Alex Keller x F!Reader Rating| M Content/Warnings| Free use smut (pre-negotiated terms), dirty talk, a brief sprinkle of dummification

For @glitterypirateduck's Alex Keller Challenge!!! lmao idk why I was so intimidated writing this. I haven't really been the biggest Keller girlie so I had no idea where to go with his voice. Obviously the best way to try and get a handle on it was to write a filthy PWP :) "I bet the neighbors know my name"

Alex would know those earrings anywhere.

They are, without question, his favorite pair of hers. And while a part of him has hoped she would decide to don them after his return home, until this morning the jewelry’d remained sitting in her jewelry box. 

Of course they are his favorite for a very specific reason.

The idea of roleplaying a free use housewife fantasy just scratches a deep seated itch inside the both of them. He's already got plans- one day in the very near future- for how he wants to put a ring on that pretty finger. Take the 'house wife' part out of the fantasy by entrenching it firmly in reality where it belongs.

But right now his thoughts are focused less on the engagement band and more on the pair of earrings dangling with every tilt and move of her head. She's taunting him.

The "rules'' are pretty simple. If she's wearing the earrings, Alex has full rein to treat her to like a personal fuck doll whenever and wherever the mood strikes him and she'll go along with it. When she's done playing, the earrings go back in the jewelry box and their sex life is the same as any other couples.

The second he sees her- having walked from the mutual bedroom to their kitchen where he found her upon waking up- he decides that today will be a lot more fun if he takes a slightly different approach to start.

He gives zero acknowledgement of the dangly jewelry despite the fact that he knows she knows there's no way he didn't see them. Just gives a half-sleepy smile and presses an affectionate peck to her temple while murmuring "Good morning, pumpkin." and it takes everything in him to not crack a grin at the indignant look on her face.

No doubt she expects him to jump the moment she gives the go ahead. To pin her down against the cabinets with one arm, lift her skirt with the other and have his wicked wicked way with her.

Oh no, dear heart.

They sit and have a perfectly normal breakfast. Or at least Alex does. His pumpkin looks wild eyed and a little suspicious at his newfound self control. Clearly not expecting it and doesn't know what to do with herself about it.

"Did you sleep alright last night?" he poses the perfectly innocent question. He's being an asshole- he knows it, but he's having too much fun. He knows damn well she slept fine last night because he wore her ass out. Could barely keep her awake long enough to clean everything up.

"Yes, did you?"

"Like a baby. You seem a little jumpy though this morning- might want to watch the caffeine."

Oh she's watching something but it sure as shit wasn't the coffee.

After collecting the dishes and placing them in the sink, Alex whistled to himself while getting ready for the day. Nothing too exciting- just a few 'Honey Do's, after he put his poor girl out of her misery.

She's finding any reason she can to be in the same room as him and it's adorable. Looking for this, needing to place that- she flits in and around like she's worried he'll forget she's there if not in his line of sight.

Eventually an actual task takes her attention off of Alex and that's when he strikes.

She's bent over in front of the dryer, no doubt fishing some far-flung sock that refused to come along quietly with the rest of the laundry.

Well fuck, he can't refuse a sight like that.

He knows her well enough that as one heavy hand lands to grab her wrist, the other fists the back of her hair with enough force to keep her from banging her head against the dryer in case she startles- which she does.

Huh. He'd of thought for sure that maybe a part of her was playing up the whole 'being bent in half in front of the dryer' thing, but from that reaction he's starting to think she was actually just focused on the laundry for a split second.

He doesn't miss the way she relaxes against his hold now that his little game is up. "What a desperate little thing you are. I haven't even done anything and you're ready to roll on your back for me." 

Now that he knows she's not going to split her head open on the edge of the dryer he releases her hair, his newly freed hand now reaching down to flip her skirt up. 

The sight that greets him is enough to draw a low whistle from the man. "No panties? Naughty girl. Almost like you were expecting to get fucked today." he teases, chuckling to himself as she nods and presses her hips against the stiffening bulge in his pants. "And here I was being a mean, mean man and making my poor girl wait. Surprised you didn't have to clean up your seat after breakfast this morning."

"I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to actually do anything today," she can't help herself but to lightly grouse at him.

"That's the fun of me being in charge of when you get fucked today, pumpkin. I might bend you over every singular solid surface that can hold your weight, or I might make you wait. Choice is all mine."

Well, until she says otherwise. Or if she outright safewords. But that is a given.

His pretty girl is getting spoiled though if she's got time to be grumpy about not being bent over to her satisfaction. 

One hand trails over her hip, teasing the exposed skin as he revels in how twitchy she is. 

It takes prep- always does, always will. But they'd been at it for a good amount yesterday and with her presently about to melt into a puddle of desire and neglect after this morning, Alex is mindful but not too apprehensive as he opens his pretty girlfriend up on his fingers.

First one, just to confirm his suspicions- she's primed and wants to go, pressing back against him in anticipation as one becomes two. He knows that two of his is something akin to three of her own, and that finally seems to settle her down as his fingers stroke that spot inside of her that has her grabbing at the dryer for leverage and pushing back against it to press further into him.

"That's it, baby. Nice and fucking wet for me. You know what your job is, hm?" he purrs behind her. 

"Yes," she pants quietly. "Alex, please-"

"You're spoiled, you know that?" he still ends up pressing an affectionate peck to her temple again, pulling out of her warm body to work on freeing himself one handed.

She's all too eager to help get things rolling- standing on her tip toes and arching her back. It makes it easy to slide into her, taking a few shallow, rolling thrusts to work himself all the way inside.

Rewarded with the sound of her pleased moans, Alex is quick to settle into a pace that he knows will get the pair of them rolling their eyes in no time. At this point he knows how to get her going as certainly as he does to get himself off.

"Oh my God- right there," she moans, her own hands scrambling for purchase against the dryer to brace. Alex bands one arm across her waist while the other continues to knead her hip, keeping her close to him as he thrusts.

'Yeah? That's the spot right there pumpkin?" he asks despite knowing the answer. He just likes watching how she'll go from a smart, capable woman to a dumb little cocksleave desperate for his cum with the right kind of prompting.

"Ye-ye-yeah," she confirms as he stays steadfast in his tempo. 

"Fuck,” he groans at the wet heat of her clinging to him like she never wants him to leave her.

Letting go of her hip with one hand but keeping his other banded across her waist, Alex is all too happy to grope at her chest. Fingers plucking at her pebbled nipples- rolling and pinching one before switching to pay attention to the other. Those hitching breaths work in time to his ministrations as he works her up just to pull his hand away from her bust in favor of her clit.

Now that got her attention, each thrust of his hips and slow stroke of his fingers being rewarded with his name a constant chant in her mouth- Alex Alex Alex Alex-

“That good, pumpkin? You gonna- fuck-  make a mess for me? Come on, honey, ask me for it,” he goads.

She’s sputtering and scrambling to get her brain in working order- trying to be a good girl. Fucking adorable.

“Alex- fuck,- hgn- Alex- please! Let me- let me,” her brain struggling to play catch up.

“All ya gotta do is ask, honey. You can do that, can’t you?” Pressing another chase kiss to her temple, the dichotomy is not lost on him paired with the absolute filthy noises coming from where they’re joined. She’s gagging for it- literally can’t get the words out of her mouth in the right order. “Must be fucking you good if you can’t even talk properly,” he teases, a grin escaping him when she shoots him a glare over her shoulder. “I bet the neighbors know my name,” the uppity ones who seem to think they’re above socializing with any of the other tenants in the building- brushing off anyone who tries to get to know them.

God they must fucking hate Alex when he’s home after being sent out on mission.

“Alex please! Let me cum, please!”

His fingers kept up that maddening pace until his ears finally register that she did, in fact, use her words.

And Alex is nothing if not a man of his word.

He knows exactly how to change the quiet strumming of his stroking fingertips from the teasing touches meant to ramp her up, and the ones meant to drag her across the finish line.

Those pretty thighs are trembling as Alex plays her like a fiddle. She cums with a cry, seemingly caught off guard by how intense it is.

It doesn’t take much more to get Alex chasing his own end.

He finishes without much fanfare Pulls out, tucks himself away, pulls her skirt down and kisses her temple again before leaving a shaking mess left to sort out the laundry.

Much like breaking the seal on a night out of drinking- now that he’s given into the temptation he just cannot stop the rest of the day. The second his refractory period is up and he feels ready to go another round, he’s seeking her out within the house and can’t wait to climb on top of her.

He may or may not be the reason that lunch burns that day a few hours later. It’s a worthy reason though, and he happily orders takeout as an apology.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[ramslay]

modern ramsayisms because he won’t leave me be

cw: mentioned animal cruelty/death.

cluster b cutie: aspd with narcissistic traits. saigtterius man, your least favorite problematic bisexual.

• has a single nipple pierced. his right, and it’s vertical. he got that done in a warehouse with an absolutely disgusting needle by one of the bastards boys and it’s a miracle it didn’t get infected, turn green and fall off. carrying off that he just gives me has an asymmetrical piercing set up? different piercings on each ear, only one brow pierced, all that fun stuff; none were done professionally. i think he’d have both ears stretched but, of course, his dangly garnet earring still exists- he just clipped it into the plug.

• and, of course, stick n poke tattoos that all vary in how well they healed. they all look bad and a good chunk of them are honestly just really stupid. none of them have any actual meaning. not like he cares to pay an artist what they’re worth, so a needle and a lighter do just fine. i saw someone make a funny on here: “eat flay love,” and i just think it’d be hilarious if he has that + die cry hate tattooed on the sides of his pointer fingers.

• snaggle toothed prick with extra canines that jut out from his upper gums. his bite marks are fucked up and nasty looking.

• long black hair. kind of wavy, but also just not the best maintained. he does not have a 5 step hair care routine... a peter steele type. he looks like he’s designed to wear corpse paint.

• is absolutely white trash. roose really has no reason to have to care about ramsay in a timeline without the need for heirs, especially if domeric is still alive and kicking. on one hand, he’s resentful because he feels he is entitled to “the high life” his father and brother live. on the other? he lacks shame in literally every regard.

• he’s such a cartoon i know in my soul he’d be the full clown package. FANTASTIC with impersonations, something he utilizes at literally the most inappropriate time because he thinks it’s funny. he has such a weird set of skills that nobody understands how or why he learned any of them, but he just whips them out at the most random uncalled of times for a bit. (ex. tap dancing.)

• will listen to about anything musically speaking (he’s really not picky in that respect) but prefers loud, eclectic artists and songs. bonus points if the subject matter is violent or unhinged!! (ex. icp, msi, die antwoord, angelspit, etc etc.) he would also fuck HEAVY with tyler the creator and childish gambino.

• drives a shitty beater truck that is operating off of hopes and prayers, you can also hear it coming from 5 miles away. he has very limited knowledge with tinkering on cars so he’s able to keep it on life support but that’s really it… y’all seen that guy that threatens his car? the general idea… https://youtube.com/shorts/7oHOSqTaBrE?si=ilweoZcsJ-o-Z_VC

• looooves practicing his second amendment right and has a stuffed gun cabinet, he’s also got a gun rack on that piece of shit truck. though he usually mostly only uses them for target practice (shooting bottles in the yard.) he much prefers bow hunting: it’s quieter, more of a challenge, and honestly just more fun for him? in general though he just has far too many weapons for any one person.

• gun collection, yes, but he’s especially fond of his knife collection. he always has a knife on him. he likes to fidget and do tricks with butterfly knives but prefers the practicality of a tactical blade.

• is well versed in internet lore (he would frequent kiwifarms… 4chan and reddit ESPECIALLY.) partially because he’s in these circles himself but also because he would have a hoot and a holler finding the weirdest and most problematic corners of the internet. (ramsay would love 4chan raids) unfortunately the age of the internet also means he has access to a lot of things that he should NOT have access to, in which he exploits on a regular basis.

• belgian malinois father. we in the 21st century baby, he’s got options! he would do great with their ceaseless energy and craze because he, too, is a crackhead! he only has one, though. modernity means he’s gotta be a little more careful with his murdering women hobby. he fully intends on having more one day, though.

• still on the subject of pets but off the dog, i think he’d have a snake too. he does the bare minimum with caring for his animals (sometimes not even that. that poor snake is in a tub with no stimuli) but i think he’d get a sick kick out of live feeding; also, just having an animal that people are usually discomforted by. he’s edgy™️

• he cannot hold down a respectable job to save his life. if he doesn’t quit out of boredom he gets fired because he’s such a shit worker and is absolutely harassing his fellow staff and customers. so! he makes money through more unconventional means. dealing, stealing, you know all that fun stuff. do NOT buy that weed from ramsay! that shit is LACED!!!!!

• a gluttenous beast with a stoner diet while stone cold sober. he needs to have a little snack on him at all times or his hunger bar will deplete instantly and he’ll starve to death. it isn’t uncommon that he just steals food from people after eating his own serving, either. people must guard their plates with their forks lest his grubby little fingers find their way in someones meal.

[oldworldwidgets]

DELILAH TIME DELILAH TIME

here she is. officially. my beloved fallout 4 oc delilah !!!! first piece done by @zetobii and the second by @leavingautumn13

i dont draw so all art of delilah comes from my dear friends who draw her for me/with their ocs and tell me i can post it OR from commissions. what i can do, however, is write <3 and make playlists and pinterest boards for visuals <3 so prepare urself <3

speaking of which, you can find her playlist here and her pinterest board here!! theyre chronological, so listening/scrolling in order should more or less tell her story too

ok so: her appearance, personality, stats, story, and some fun facts are here under the cut (its a lot fyi ok i just love her so much) pls enjoy

delilah lore (delilore?) be upon ye:

appearance:

24 years old, 5’10”

very fair skinned with bright green eyes and jet black hair

her hair is wavy and flows down to the middle of her back. she has one small braid behind her right ear

covered in freckles, from her nose to her knees. she has a tiny scar above her mouth from a past split lip and a slit in her opposite eyebrow from a past black eye

midriff is heavily discolored from past bruises - the pigmentation never fully went away - and marred with keloid scars from deep cuts from things she refuses to talk about. if her dress has a high enough slit, bruises can peek out near the very tops of her legs

large black kingsnake tattoo wrapping up a her left arm with its head near her shoulder and its tail near/on her hand

she can almost always be found in her wine-colored silk dress that reaches only about mid-thigh, nails manicured and lips painted to match. it has spaghetti straps and is loosely bodycon.

she wears stacks of gold rings (as many as possible, really) and dangly gold snake earrings

the only things she keeps on her person are the dagger and the gun strapped to her thighs under her dress. her gun was a gift from KL-E-0. it is a custom gold-plated, silenced 10mm. lilah named it "Mine"

stats:

if fo4 had a karma slider, lilah would land pretty firmly on evil. on a dnd alignment chart, think chaotic neutral or neutral evil

SPECIAL: 2, 8, 2, 10, 7, 4, 3

she's not strong nor has much endurance, but when you're as smart, perceptive, and charismatic as she is, you can charm people into carrying your stuff for you anyway.

her perks are party girl (alcohol/chem resistance), black widow (damage/persuasion against men), night person (higher int at night), and intimidation (pacify, instruct, and force opponents to attack). and deacon's cloak and dagger, of course.

personality:

cold, calculated, distant

cares about very, very few people (and even fewer things) but is fiercely loyal to those people. she's a railroad agent, but only because deacon cares about the cause and she begrudgingly cares about deacon

she and deacon clash. he refused to even vouch for her admission to the railroad. she gets along much better with glory, but she still gets assigned to run jobs with deacon because they keep each other in check and are deadly efficient as a pair (theyre also in love but they keep it a secret from everyone including each other)

she cares about very very few people but it fiercely loyal to those people. she is a railroad agent, but only because deacon cares about the cause and she "begrudgingly" cares about deacon (she cares literally so much do not let her fool u)

her moral compass is not magnetic. right and wrong is whatever she wants it to be. she takes no issue killing people if they wrong her. sexual harassment or subterfuge/targeted deception send marks to the top of her hit list.

her story:

her birth name is allie eden

she is not a sole survivor; she was born into the capital wasteland chapter of the brotherhood of steel. despite sentinel lyons' best efforts, delilah responded far better to scribe training than to combat training

she and arthur maxson were the only two kids in the citadel, and they became fast friends, even after the lyons pride crumbled and maxson was appointed elder.

he appointed her his sentinel, second in command, which she embraced until she saw how terribly the wasteland was faring under his leadership.

she promptly absconded and, because she had been so sheltered until that day, quickly lost herself to chems and alcohol.

months passed in, thanks to all the blackouts, what felt like hours. one night, allie woke up in a warm bed that she did not fall asleep in. a man named dante deangelo had pulled her body from a D.C. gutter and made sure she was safe.

in no time, they fell in love and decided to escape to the commonwealth. they found a small, basement apartment in goodneighbor and allie began tending bar at the third rail.

dante, slowly but surely, became more abusive. he left bruises and deep cuts on her body anywhere her third rail uniform would cover. she stayed, though, because she'd been raised by the brotherhood to believe that love was harsh and painful. to obey without question. to submit to authority.

eventually, she tired of that life and snapped, killing dante before he could leave any more marks on her. something... shifted. maybe it was allie eden who entered their apartment that morning, but it was delilah who left it that night.

KL-E-0, who was quite fond of allie and is far fonder of delilah, fitted her with pistol, Mine.

instead of hiding behind the bar like she had when she was with dante, she began to use it to her advantage. every dusty drifter with full pockets full of caps left her bar empty handed. but it wasnt enough.

she began targeting triggermen, who she knew were peddling chems for... someone in goodneighbor. the moment a man started flirting with her (which she hated), it was like a red dot sight appeared on their foreheads. she'd seduce them, take them back to her apartment, get her caps and chems and information, and the men would never be seen again.

morowski, goodneighbor kingpin, eventually approached her at work about his shrinking pool of chem peddlers. they struck a deal: he would slip her into his operation as his newest arm candy, and she would peddle his chems at her bar.

it worked flawlessly until morowski actually fell in love with her. go figure. unless, of course, that was lilah's plan all along...

while she's still participating in this farce with morowski, she meets drummer boy, who she ends up truly enjoying the company of even despite her general distaste for men. eventually, he convinces her to join the railroad with him

because morowski is in love with delilah, she has no issue squeezing information out of him when deacon asks her to: morowski is an institute informant. lilah quickly, uh, deals with that problem, and the next days, morowski is found dead in his office at the rexford. cause of death: self inflicted gunshot wound. what a tragedy.

because delilah was his "other half," his unofficial widow, she inherited morowski's whole chem operation

now, she happily spends her days directing the triggermen and tending her bar - for fun and for information, at this point, because she certainly doesnt need the caps. when she needs to run for the railroad or her beloved friends need her professional black widow skills, whitechapel charlie is "happy" to cover for her. as happy as he can manage, anyway.

fun facts:

she is terrified of storms, heights, and violent outbursts from people she trusts

her name comes from the bible story of sampson and delilah, where delilah is paid by the government to seduce sampson (a man of god) and tempt him to sin by telling her what gives him his inhuman strength. after three attempts, she is successful. sampson tells her that god gives him his strength through his hair. she then cuts his hair, which ultimately leads to his death. i mean what a bad bitch

she is still deeply unhappy even after she wraps goodneighbor around her finger because she still doesnt know who she is

she's skeptical of maxson's move to the commonwealth. she is very much on the run from him (and the bortherhood as a whole), and ham happily vets drifters for her to ensure theyre not undercover brotherhood before letting them into the bar.

she and maccready arent exactly "friends" but they harbor mutual respect for each other since they spend so much time together. mac had to call her off like a guard dog when winlock and barnes paid him a visit, so shes confident he would do the same if the brotherhood ever came knocking.

[the-mcyt-crackships-brackets]

If Fwhilza loses to a f***ing Etho x not-a-block-person again, I am going to lose my ****** mind. And do something very very drastic in the fic, there will be pain.

Snipit: “Fair enough mate.” Phil says immediately striping off his outer jacket and the green tunic wrap thing, look Fwhip doesn’t know what they’re called. He does know what a turtleneck is. And it does make sense that it’d be sleeveless and probably backless considering Phil’s wings, but there is a split second Fwhip is startled, slightly, only slightly, at … the fact Phil discards the jackets in favour of what’s pretty much an undershirt so easily. Just because Fwhip said so. He frowns. “Well now you need sleeves.” He says turning to search for a better Grimlands approved jacket, not at all as a distraction. Flying gives one many muscles apparently. Fwhip ignores the fact he, who has wings, does not have those muscles. “Ah, so it was the green that was the issue.” He hears Phil joke behind him. Fwhip is not turning around yet because he has a jacket to find. Yes, all the jackets he’s looking through are his. He’s the only Grimlander with wings. “There’s lots of green in the Gimlands,” he snarks back digging through the closet he’s stuffed most of the gifts from his sister and advisors who keep trying to put him in fancier clothing. “Loose dangly wrap fabric on the other hand is less common.” He knows there’s a specific coat in here somewhere. Probably. Unless he’s making it up. He should commission it from the tailor if it doesn’t. It’d look good on Phil. “So what are you looking for?” Phil asks directly in his ear. Fwhip does not scream and then smack Phil with a wing when he laughs before diving further back into the closet because his face is not red. He knew Phil’s turtleneck had a cutout in it. He remembered that. Fwhip glares at the coats which are not the one he’s looking for. Wait. YES! He spins around triumphant and shoves the fabric forward. “Here. This should work. Try it on.” “Oh boy.” Fwhip hears Phil say in the background as he puts it on, far too distracted checking it fits alright to actually notice. It looks longer on Phil that it’s probably supposed to, but everything else seems fine (score one for keeping his measurements out of public and private knowledge). Honestly it fits Phil better than it probably would on him. Phil looks good in tighter clothes. The darker red coat is more open than most Grimland fashion, with large flat lapels he knows are probably sewn down and a couple decorative gold buttons down each side. The hem is all angles with arrowheads of black embroidery that match both the lapels and wide cuffs. Best of all he knows this coat is mostly flame retardant and lightweight. Red suits Phil, Fwhip thinks. Makes him look as sharp and deadly as he really is. Maybe that was the point of the green, to soften the edges, make him seem nicer. Fwhip still prefers the red on black. The way he it glitters like deepslate redstone. “I’m going to grab you gloves.” Fwhip decides, already moving away before he does … something.

- The FWHIP Analyst Vote FWHIP. before I figure out how to murder etho

.

[shanardo13]

Obikin College Au - RA/Don! Obi-Wan/First Year! Anakin - Part Three

Honestly, at this point I should probably just start writing it, but I keep thinking of little ideas for this au and want to keep track of them, so I present to you: Part Three 😈

Link to Part One

Link to Part Two

At this point, they are becoming inseparable - Ahsoka would say insufferable. Both are applicable.

Whenever Anakin has errands to run, he texts Obi-Wan to come with him. Obi-Wan has started to do the same. Now most of their outings involve running errands for each of them.

Anakin: u free? I gotta hit Walmart and get supplies for my project.

Obi-Wan: yeah I’m free. Think u could get it from staples at the mall instead?

Obi-Wan: I wanna go to Sephora and Hot Topic. Need eyeliner and I wanna look at band shirts.

Anakin: omfg 🙄

Anakin: jk jk that sounds perfect! Meet outside subway station in ten?

Obi-Wan: sounds good!

And then they meet in front of the subway station like they planned.

They both bring earbuds to the subway, so really they could listen to their own music, but they never do. Instead they share a pair and sit huddled up together, taking turns picking songs.

They can both be kind of pretentious with music, so they work well together. Despite their differences, they impress each other with their knowledge and love of the same music.

“Anakin, Wings is leagues better than Plastic Ono Band, and anyone who doesn’t think so is just stupid.”

“Oh, McCartney is just bubblegum pop and we both know it, Obi. At least Lennon had substance.”

“Substance abuse issues, maybe.”

“Can we at least agree that Harrison’s work is significantly underrated?”

“Oh definitely. All Things Must Pass is the best post-Beatles solo album in my opinion.”

“Yes! Thank you! Do you want to listen to it?”

When they get to the mall, they immediately head to their favourite little coffee shop in the centre of the food court. Obi-Wan always buys, so Anakin usually makes it up to him by finding him a little gift.

“You just want your regular?”

“Obi-Wan, I’ve told you numerous times. I can afford my own coffee. You don’t have to buy it for me.”

“Shut up, I want to.” He turns to the employee and repeats their drink orders. “And a strawberry danish please!”

They sit in the food court while they drink their beverages and Anakin eats his danish, conversation flowing endlessly. Lots of inside jokes and giggles are shared. Then they continue on with their shopping.

They go to staples first, as Obi-Wan has dubbed it the ‘not-fun’ part of their trip.

“Anakin, you’re getting office supplies for a school project. Boring! Let’s get it out of the way first!”

“Okay, fine.” Anything for you! Literally anything you ask, any time, I would say yes. I’m at your mercy

They grab what Anakin needs at Staples and then head to Sephora.

Obi-Wan spends far too long sifting through various shades of black eyeliner. They all look the same.

“Anakin, which is better? ‘Midnight’ or ‘Jet Black’?” He holds up two pencils.

Anakin studies them. He tries really hard to spot a difference between them and to subsequently make a decision.

“Uhh… I guess, ‘Midnight’ ?” He suggests, pointing to ‘Jet Black’.

Afterwards they head to Hot Topic to look at the band shirts. This has both of them captivated.

“Anakin, it’s buy three get the fourth free. If we each pick two we can get the deal and then just split the cost for the rest.”

“Yes, Obi-Wan, I understand. But what if we each picked four?”

“You don’t need four new shirts!!!”

They settle on each getting two. When Anakin buys Obi-Wan a cool chain necklace with a scorpion on it that he had been eyeing, it’s only as a repayment for the coffee. Nothing else.

When Obi-Wan buys Anakin a pair of dangly sword earrings, it’s only because he thinks they would look really good on Anakin and he’s not too bashful to admit it. He wasn’t going to spend any time thinking about what that might mean.

“Please put them on! They totally suit you!”

“Oh fine!” Anakin obliges. They’re in the washroom after leaving Hot Topic. He puts the earrings on, as Obi-Wan watches him in the mirror.

“See! You look hot, Ani.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He mutters, blushing a fierce red as the two of them maintain eye contact in the mirror. You can’t just say something like that and expect me to be normal about it!

So Anakin walks around the mall, sword earrings proudly on display.

They go to Indigo because Obi-Wan is an English major and is passionate about literature. He wants to buy a book for Anakin to read so they can talk about it.

“I think you’ll really like Slaughterhouse-Five. Vonnegut is a very satirical author, and I think you’ll appreciate his dark sense of humour. Plus, it has science fiction elements! He uses aliens and a warped concept of time to highlight the trauma and impact of war. You’ll love it!”

“It sounds cool! I’ll give it a go!”

Anakin likely would have never picked it up on his own, but the way Obi-Wan’s eyes lit up and the pace of his speech quickened as he spoke with great passion about the novel made it entirely worth reading.

After the mall, they go to the park together. They sit down at a spot under a tree. Obi-Wan leans against the tree. He grabs a journal from his book bag and begins writing in it - just lil poems and thoughts. Definitely not about Anakin.

Anakin stretches out and rests his head on Obi-Wan’s lap. He starts reading the copy of ‘Slaughterhouse-Five’ that Obi-Wan bought for him.

They sit there for a long time in silence, each focusing on their own task but enjoying each others company.

Eventually Obi-Wan stops writing, putting his journal away in his bag.

The sun is starting to set, and as he glances down at Anakin, he notices how it highlights his features.

He notices the warmth of his skin brightened by the light - the gold of his curls enunciated in the glow.

He reaches down and rakes his fingers through the curls as Anakin continues reading.

“Thank you for today. Trips like this mean everything to me.” You mean everything to me.

Anakin stops where he’s reading and folds the corner of the page. Obi-Wan winces - he would never damage a book like that.

Anakin looks up at him, leaning into the fingers in his hair, practically purring. It’s enough to stop Obi-Wan from cursing him for folding the pages of a book.

“Of course, Obi. Things are always more fun with you.” He hums.

Obi-Wan smiles down at him, giving his scalp light scratches. I’m not thinking about kissing him.

“You’re like a little cat.” He ruffles his locks before pulling his hand away. He gives Anakin’s nose a boop.

Anakin huffs and pulls himself into a sitting position so they’re face to face. He stares at Obi-Wan for a moment, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

Suddenly, he stands up, reaching for Obi-Wan’s hand. “C’mon.” He says.

“Oh, what now?” Obi-Wan groans and grabs the offered hand, allowing himself to be pulled up.

“You’re going to buy me ice cream from the stand over there!” Anakin beams, interlocking their fingers and pointing to an ice cream cart in the distance.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes but can’t control the smile tugging at his lips.

And so they go to the cart. Obi-Wan buys Anakin an ice cream cone. He wouldn’t do it if it didn’t make him happy - or rather, if it didn’t make Anakin happy which in turn made him happy.

As Anakin devours the cone they make their way back to the subway station. Their hands stay intertwined the entire way.

Mindlessly, Obi-Wan rubs his thumb up and down against Anakin’s palm.

All in all, it was quite a perfect day.

I promise at some point I’ll actually start writing this - I can’t promise I won’t post more of these before that though. 😎

[iamthecomet]

Comet my dear

I saw the post about Cirrus with a tongue piercing. And now I need your thoughts on the ghouls and their piercings.

Like.

Dew obviously has nipple piercings. Proudly showing them off every time he gets the chance to. And they have a second use as well...

Rain definitely has a cute bellybutton one. A dangly droplet, shimmering. Iridescent like his skin in the right light.

Mountain got a nose ring going on. A golden one. Either a nostril or septum? Would both fit tbh.

What we thinking about the rest of the pack??

I have SO many thoughts about ghoul piercings (but I always fail to include them in my fics, oops). Cirrus: Tongue piercing. Ears a couple of times (double lobe, daith, tragus), Christina. Cumulus: Belly button. Ears. Sunshine is trying to talk her into nipple piercings, she's on the fence. Wears a lot of big statement earrings and fun belly button rings. Sunshine: Double nostril on the right side (gold rings). Tongue. Gauged ears (00). Nipples. VCH. (Trans Sunny has a Jacobs ladder, I don't make the rules). Barbells in her nipples most of the time. Only wears rings if someone (Cirrus) asks nicely. Dew: Nipples, rings always. Owns barbells because Aether bought them for him after he almost ripped one out--he's never put them in. Ears (lobes and helix). Tongue.

Rain: Lobes. Usually wears a stud in one and something dangly in the other. Labret. Belly button, likes dangly things for that too. Wears a lot of crop tops to show it off. Mountain: Septum. Ear lobes just like Rain. Sometimes wears the other earrings in Rain's set--so they match. Left eyebrow. Swiss: Gauged ears (7/16). Industrial. Just his right nipple. Prince Albert (Trans Swiss has a hood piercing, duh, wears a cute little ring in it). Septum. Aether: Ears (double lobes, double helix). Belly button. Left nostril. Frenum (just one so far, but thinking about a jacobs ladder, because why the fuck not). feel free to expand on this if you want.

[linksthoughtbrambles]

The First Step in All Cases

A little totk fic for Linktober 2023 Day 8 Prompt: Constructs. 1200 words.

AaaaaAAAAND face-plant.  Of course.

Somewhere along the line, he really thought he’d gotten better at this.  All that Calamity-smiting might’ve gone to his head.

(Definitely, it definitely had, because he let Zelda he let Zelda fall)-

“No,” he said with a sputter of grass, grit, and adorable little purple petals (What were those?  They didn’t taste half-bad) from his mouth, the sting of a long scratch the full length of his face an annoying reminder of his utter lack of elixirs and determination to find out where the frick they went whenever he got home.

He ignored the downed wing behind him and jogged toward the nearest ruined foundation.  The conditions here had preserved materials so well.  Maybe he’d find something to patch himself up-

-like a cookpot!  Link smiled, huffing at the similarity between those strewn about Hyrule and this ancient example, sitting near the center of a home from far longer ago than the previous Calamity.

“Okay, except I don’t have any monster parts.  Could make myself some dinner, though-“

“BrbrEEEEEbr.”

Link’s feet returned to the stone, his first coherent thought being gratitude at not face-planting for the second time in two minutes.

“Allow me to offer unsolicited advice,” the sneaky steward construct said.  It meandered toward Link, though it didn’t enter the ancient footprint of the house.

“…Uh,” Link said.

“Are you going this direction?”

Link glanced at the hands it held loosely, the fingers dangling and not at all pointing any particular way.  “…Uhh-“

“This mountain path is especially rugged.”

Link looked around.  “What mountain pa-“

“You must take your environment into account when traveling.”

“…Right.  Hey, I don’t know how much Rauru clued you in, here, but I kept my memory this time.  Totally got this.“

“I have developed guidelines for traveling this mountain path.”

“Guidelines, really?  That’s great- I think I’m all set, though-”

“Shall I tell you them?”

“Uh.  I think I got it.  Stay warm, right?  Yep.  All set.”

The construct cocked its head at him.

Its strangely adorable head.

“…Don’t give me those dangly robot earrings.”

“Allow me to offer unsolicited advice.”

‘Please?’ its sideways face said in a way only mysteriously non-metallic rigid features can.

Link loosed a sharp sigh, nodding to himself.  He could spend a few minutes listening to a robot who’d been lonely for tens of thousands of years, couldn’t he?  Zelda was safe and here, right?  Of course, she was.  He saw the glow lift her up.  She’s up here in the temple, and he just has to get in.

“Let’s hear it!” Link said.

Something vaguely stern seemed to enter the construct’s inanimate stance.  “Very well.”

Link swallowed, hands on his hips to ride this out.

“Fire is a crucial tool when traveling the mountain path.”

Oh dear Hylia.  “Damn right!”

“A fire can be used either to cook or to warm yourself.”

“Yep.”

“I recommend using flint as a Fire starter.”

“Fantastic recommendation.”

“Place flint next to a bundle of wood. Then strike it with a metallic or stony weapon.”

Dear Goddess, it really does think I have no idea.

“This is my recipe for fire.”

Link blinked.  “That’s- amazing.  It’s mine, too!”

“There are several other methods.  But it is best to internalize the basics first.”

“Makes sense.  You know, you can also use red chu chu jelly-“

“Would you like to hear about cooking?”

That sounded more interesting.  Ancient cooking?  “Yes, please!  Teach me about cooking!”

“You can cook anytime and anywhere.”

Wow.  Optimistic robot.

“All you need is a pot with a lit fire.”

“Oh.  I- know about pots-“

“One method of cooking-“

“-I use them all the time.”

“-is simply to throw random ingredients into the pot.”

“I’m a pretty good cooOOH RANDOM?”

“Others are more careful.”

“I’m sorry, did you just start a newbie’s cooking lesson with ‘put RANDOM things in a pot?’”

“This is the best way to make meals that can warm you up.”

“Wait wait wait, careful how?  You have to be specific!  A newbie needs clear instructions!”

“Other effects are also possible.”

“Yeah, true, but let’s start with the basics-”

“Insects and monster parts are not edible.”

“No no no no, you don’t start with stuff you don’t put in the pot-“

“Do not cook horns or guts with food.”

“I don’t tell people ‘by the way, don’t put a bunch of soap in a cookpot’ and then send them off to cook their first meal!”

“Save these parts as materials for elixirs.”

“Elixirs?!  You haven’t talked about cooking normal food yet!”

“Elixirs are also helpful in the mountains.”

“So are pants!  That doesn’t make them part of a good first cooking lesson!”

 “They are an alternate way to warm your body or recover stamina.”

“Noted, but-“

“The first step in all cases is to start a fire.”

Oh- okay, maybe this is where the cooking lesson starts.

“This is all I can tell you.  Take care.”

Link’s palm struck his forehead with a loud smack.  “You’re- kidding me!”

“Do not worry if you forget any of this.”

“I wish I could, but I think my forgetting days are over-“

“I am not going anywhere.”

Link stared at the construct.

10,000-plus years… for this?  This poor thing knew literally nothing about cooking, yet was doomed to wander the sky island for all eternity to expel its meager wisdom to random passersby?

“No.  No, this is not cool,” Link said.

“BrbrEEEEEBrrr,” cooed the construct.  It turned as if to attend its other duties.

“Eh- Allow me to offer unsolicited advice!” Link said.

“BrbrEEEErrEebr?” Its head cocked at Link.

“I happen to actually be a good cook,” Link said.

It stared at him.

“I- gh- hmm.”  Link grimaced.  “I… have developed guidelines for cooking simple, nourishing meals!” he said with a smile.  “Shall I tell you them?”

The construct’s head shifted back, the earring-like structures jangling in a way reminiscent of a Hylian retriever’s ears.  “I will listen.”

Link approached the construct with a grin and took its hand.  “Follow me to the cookpot, please.”

“Brr-brr-eEEe.”  It didn’t budge.

“What is it?”

“I have not been invited into my masters’ home.”

A small, half-smile touched Link’s face.  “I… live here, now.  I’m inviting you in.”

“BrbrEEee.”

The construct crossed the threshold without resistance.

“Okay,” Link said with a clap of his hands and a delve into his Korok pouch.  “There are three ways to cook in a cookpot.  You can cook in water, cook in fat, or you can dry-roast.  Um.” Link pulled out a raw pigeon carcass he’d already cleaned—he’d had half a mind to cook it before the construct spoke to him anyway.  “Perfect.  This is raw bird—pigeon!—it has some of its own fat, so we’ll just go ahead and roast it.”  Link smirked and eyed his artificial friend.  “…What do you think the first step is?”

“The first step in all cases is to start a fire.”

Link nodded.  “You got it.”

-----

Epilogue:

“And if you collect enough of these and grind them down really fine, you make flour, and if you cook that in fat you make a roux, and there are all sorts of things you can do with that!”

“Brbrrreeee!” the construct chimed.

[moonmeg]

This AU would be so angst actually oof.

Idk what his name would be because Philip probably wouldn’t name him Caleb but Cat is just shopping in the market and this tiny child bumps into her and makes her stuff fall to the floor and they apologize, trying to help, but Cat just freezes because this kid has Caleb’s hair dangly thing, he has Caleb’s facial structure even though his hair is brown with streaks of white, even though he has magenta ruby eyes and standard witch ears, he reminds her far too much of Caleb which is weird and suspicious. He probably only has two things similar to the real Caleb (or maybe she just knows he seems to remind her of Caleb for some reason?)

*screams*

EVELYN TAKING A LITTLE GRIMWALKER UNDER HER WING IS SUCH A BITTERSWEET CONCEPT AGH

[caswellseyes]

aaaaa that prompt list !!!! "“you said you wanted to talk?" “yeah…it can wait, though. enjoy your date.”" for juke? 👀💕

yess they're such good prompts!! and i love this one for juke, ty for sending it in!! <3

“you said you wanted to talk?" “yeah…it can wait, though. enjoy your date.” (juke, 1.1k)

Living with Julie Molina is both the best and worst thing that ever happened to Luke.

On one hand, Julie is an excellent roommate. She’s tidy and doesn’t leave stuff lying around. She knows how to cook and doesn’t tend to burn stuff and cause the fire alarm to go off at all times, unlike Luke’s previous roommate. She barely has guests over, and when she does, she always lets Luke know beforehand. Luke does his best to mimic her behaviour, and as a result, they’re both pretty content with their arrangement after a few months. Julie is the perfect roommate, really.

On the other hand, Luke is also completely, entirely, hopelessly in love with Julie, and, well. It complicates things.

These past few months, Luke has been alternating between gratitude for his perfect roommate and despair because of his perfect roommate who surely could never like him back. The perfect girl, so close yet so far away. 

But then, things changed. At least, Luke thinks they did.

Julie started staying in more often. She’d watch movies with Luke, slowly but surely moving closer throughout the night. She’d include him in her meal prep whenever she made a dish he’d complimented, and when he got out of the shower and walked around without a shirt on, her eyes would linger.

Luke himself hadn’t wanted to presume. He didn’t want to misunderstand her, confess his feelings, and find himself living on his best friend’s couch for the unforeseeable future, because finding a decent place to live on a limited budget sucked. His friends, however, seem to agree with him. Seem to think that maybe Julie likes him back. 

So, one day, after countless hours of encouragement from his friends and a pep talk he gives himself in the mirror, Luke decides to bite the bullet and go for it. He’s going to tell Julie he likes her and ask her out.

“Hey, Julie? Can we talk?” 

Luke approaches Julie when she’s in the living room. She turns around at the sound of his voice and Luke’s breath catches in his throat.

She’s wearing a short, swishy dress with flowers on it, a small bag hanging off her shoulder. Her hair, curls bouncy and shiny in a way that Luke knows takes a ton of time and effort, is pinned into a half-updo, showing off her cheekbones and dangly earrings. Her lips are painted a soft nude and her eyelashes look impossibly long.

She’s gorgeous.

She’s also very clearly going out with someone.

“Oh, hey,” she says, hand sliding up to hoist her bag further up her shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Luke says. His brain is scrambled, torn between the impulse to scream out how beautiful Julie looks and the urge to curl up into a ball and cry. “Uh, are you going out?”

Julie nods. 

“I have a date,” she says, fiddling with her fingers. It’s one of her nervous tells. She must be really excited. “I have a couple minutes before I need to leave, though. You said you wanted to talk?” 

Luke shakes his head. There’s no way he’s doing it now, now that he has pretty clear confirmation that she doesn’t feel the same way before he’s even said a word. He’ll just make up an excuse about household chores or something later, when he no longer feels like sinking through the ground.

“Yeah…it can wait, though. Enjoy your date.”

Julie frowns. She steps closer to him, tilting her head and brushing a few curls back. 

“Hey, no, tell me now,” she pushes. “It looks like it’s important.”

“It’s fine,” Luke bites out. His face feels like it’s on fire. “It’s no big deal.”

“It looks like it’s a big deal,” Julie counters. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m not going to tell you I’m in love with you right before you leave to go on a date with someone else!”

Horrified, Luke slaps his hands over his mouth. The words had just flown out, beyond his control. Oh god, he’s ruined everything now. 

Julie stares at him.

“What?” She finally brings out, voice like a squeak.

Luke sighs. He rubs his hands over his face, then  tilts his head back and addresses the ceiling. There’s no going back now, but that doesn’t mean he has to look her in the eye for the rest of it. He can’t handle that embarrassment.

“I said I’m in love with you,” he repeats. “You’re amazing, and I- I think I love you, even though we haven’t known each other for that long. I thought you might like me back, but I’m wrong about that, I guess. Since you’re going on a date with someone else.” 

Julie giggles.

“You mean the blind date Flynn set me up with in an attempt to get me to get over you?”

Luke lowers his eyes. Julie is still in front of him, but she doesn’t look embarrassed or upset. No, she looks happy, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

“What?” It’s Luke’s turn to be confused.

Julie takes another step closer. She’s close enough to touch, now.

“Luke, I’ve been crushing on you since the day you moved in,” she says. “I only agreed to go on this date because Flynn convinced me it could help me get over you. But now that I know that’s not necessary, I think I’ll cancel. Maybe go out with someone else instead?”

She bites her lip. Luke impulsively reaches out and uses his thumb to tug it free. Her breath stutters.

“We could go to that diner down the street?” He suggests. “Get a slice of pie and a milkshake to share.”

Julie’s smile widens.

“You remember that?”

Luke grins. Of course he remembers the time she’d told him how romantic she thinks dates like that are, when people get a massive milkshake and drink it with two straws. It’s like something straight out of a movie, something she’s always wanted to try. And, well. Luke likes milkshakes too. He’s happy to indulge her.

“Of course I remember,” he says. He slides his hand, which was still cradling her cheek, down till he can tangle his fingers with hers. “I remember everything you’ve told me.”

Julie quirks an eyebrow at him. “Well, milkshakes and pie sounds great. But how about after that, we come back here and watch a movie, just the two of us?”

Luke is smiling so widely his cheeks hurt. His idea of the perfect date has always been simple, just spending a quiet night with the person he loves. He doesn’t even remember telling Julie that, but apparently, he has. And she’s remembered. 

“Sounds like a perfect date to me.”

When Julie leans forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, Luke is pretty sure she feels the same.

send me some roommates to lovers prompts!

[microwave-core]

Give and Take

Oleana x Fem! Reader

After a long day of work, Oleana looks forward to stumbling into bed with you, who is all too happy to help her unwind. All it takes is some good ol’ TLC to help her forget about the day and put off thinking about tomorrow.

Oleana loves her job. She worked hard when researching dynamax, enough to get the chairman's attention, and she’d be damned if she let him down. But even a workaholic of her nature gets tired. Even she feels the desire to lay down in bed and never get back up, free to revel in the warmth and softness of one of Arceus’s finest creations. 

Of course, it helped that you were waiting there, too. Given how much she loves her work, Oleana stays at work until the moon is high in the sky. Everyday she stumbles home, only to be greeted by you, all happy and sleepy. Your soft smile never fails to melt her heart.

The minute she is able to leave, she gathers her things and bolts (not before saying goodbye to the chairman and ensuring he will get home safely, obviously). She doesn’t even bother calling a taxi to get her home. She has no desire to wait, even if she would technically get home faster. 

Her quick strides slow down as she approaches your shared humble apartment. She’s desperate to see you, to unwind, but she would hate to accidentally wake you up. She cracks the door open, carefully stepping inside and removing her shoes. She doesn’t get far before you walk up to the door, clad in pajamas, to greet her.

“Welcome home!” Your tone is caked in sleep. Like most nights, you were tottering on the verge of sleep when she arrived home. But Oleana didn’t care. She was just happy to see you there at all.

“Mmmhm…” She, similarly, was all too tired, to the point that her attempted ‘Welcome home’ came out as a garbled mess. It was all you needed to know how long her day was. She sheds her lab coat before grabbing your hand and dragging you off to bed, bringing you both crashing down onto the soft mattress.

Oleana holds you close, laying your head onto her chest while stroking a hand through your hair. Her nails scratch over your scalp in the best way possible. But, as much as you loved her embrace and attention, you pulled away from her, much to her protest.

She, begrudgingly, opens her eyes to see you sitting over her, brush in hand, smile still painted on your face. She’ll never understand how you can maintain such a cheerful expression all the time. Slowly, she repositions herself so her head lies in your lap, free to close her eyes again.

Brush in hand, you run it through her sea of blonde hair, silky strands parting like swaying tides, careful to avoid her dangly earrings. While busy, Oleana takes good care of herself, and so her hair is always free from tangles and knots, and it always smells so wonderfully of freshly cut roses, even if it does remind you of a certain someone. You love to tease her over her love for the chairman, and yet you're somewhat afraid that, if asked to choose between you and him, she would choose the former.

She sighs in content. She remains stoic, but she’s relaxed. Happy. In her lane. Her zone, even. The stress and anxiety of the day melts away. Her shoulders relax now that they don’t have to carry the entirety of Macro Cosmos. Her mind can go blank, thinking only of you, only of the moment, of your hands in her hair.

She’ll commit your warmth to memory, so she can recall it tomorrow, to keep her going through the day, to have something to look forward to as her clocking out time approaches. She focuses on the moment because, if she doesn’t, she’ll get lost thinking about tomorrow, about the struggles and hardships and the stress and everything that comes along with being a vice-president. And she loves her job, but she’s only human.

But that doesn’t matter, not right now. It doesn’t matter that she’ll have to goad chairman Rose away from a rampant sea of fans. It doesn’t matter that Champion Leon will inevitably be late for an important exhibition match. And it doesn’t matter that she’ll have to deal with near-useless Marco Cosmos employees who are completely hopeless when it comes to getting jobs done.

But all good things must come to an end. Eventually, she’ll have to break away from your soft hands, delicately caring for her hair, to get ready for bed. She’ll remove her makeup and earrings, and change into comfier clothes, and get cleaned up. She’ll let her pokemon out and give them enough attention before sinking back into bed, into your side. Maybe she’ll get a snack while she’s at it, preferably with you, talking about your day if you were up to it.

But for right now, she’ll simply bask in your caring hands, allow you to spoil her in your love in the same way she loves to do to you. Oleana has changed immensely, coming far from where she’s started, but, deep down, she is still hopeless. Yet, for whatever reason, you choose to disregard that fact. You choose to shower her in love and praise even with her faults. And that alone is enough to get her through the stress of the day. 

“Oleana, you’ve got to stay awake…” She cracks her eyes open, content this time. “You’ve got to get up, dear.”

“Understood, I will not keep you waiting for long.“ She stumbles a bit to stand up, but quickly reverts to her graceful posture. Although, she falters slightly when planting her feet on the ground, not quite used to walking around without her heels. 

Her professional and stoic nature waits for no one, not even you. But her workaholic nature, her devotion to her career, is an innate part of herself. It is why you love her. And for that alone, she’ll forever love you.