#rest of party: -STRESS

[the-rolls-on-black]

Lowkey it's real serious when you imagine your f/os as the characters in ur party u play in video games. Darkest Dungeon? Sure, I can see them exploring whatever and bickering the entire time.

[clumsy-mudpuppy]

hes so edgy and cool. very calm and collected mage, no silly business. he has zero attachment to material things or relationships to weigh him down (lying) (hes just the party kitty cat. silly little meow meow)

closeups under the cut

[tennessoui]

https://www.tumblr.com/willowcrowned/753125073710415872?source=share

My perception of wine is forever tainted

(post of wine and rock licking pairing guide)

i suddenly cannot remember if i ever gave anakin a major in the wine party au - could he be a geologist?? i love the idea of anakin bringing literal rocks to a fancy wine party night just so that all of obi-wan's snobby friends have to lick them.

he thinks he's won, but obi-wan, the asshole, has been studying up on geology ever since he found out that anakin was studying the subject, so he takes a very delicate lick of his fucking. slate rock and he's like 'actually i think a limestone would taste better with this riesling because of the undertone of brightness and freshness that the rock has.'

and anakin has to sit there through obi-wan's fucking stupid pink tongue flicking over the rock and then his stupid KNOWLEDGE of ROCKS and WINE and it takes him like 2 whole bouts of sex before he's like 'wait were you studying up on wine to impress me????'

and obi-wan has to think of a cover real fast

thankfully rocks and soil actually really do affect grapes grown for wine. so he has an excuse. even though the truth is he has never cared more about geology than since anakin entered his life <3

[writeouswriter]

Dungeons and Dragons needs to stop making me stressed in real life, I already have real life stressing me out in real life

[disposal-blueeee]

VARGASTOBER - day 1 : edgar vargas

[local-cupid]

Okay hold up, I get it, the next four years are gonna be kinda chaotic. Is this just a cover up for stealing more money? Idk maybe lmao it’s trumps Oompa Loompa ass. And I know at some point one of his plans were to make it harder to elect democrats. Harder, not impossible. I personally don’t believe it’s impossible to eradicate the Democratic Party. Laws and stuff like that are reversible. Like it might take a few months but everything’s reversible. I don’t know what else people want to hear, like I have sympathy but I’m also trying to look at this from a logistical point of view.

[tytoalbatross]

the autism... it's controlling me, taking me over...... (bg3)

[miserye]

never would i have thought in a million years that i would get close enough to my boss that he would ask me to house sit for him

[chimerafeathers]

#hey OP i think I'm in love with you (no romo) #i think Mira's outburst will hurt her even more too bc like #i really don't think it was Siffrin specifically that triggered it #i think she's on that cusp with EVERYONE #just like Siffrin! she's so insecure and battling with thoughts of 'they don't really care' with everyone! #but she's just a LITTLE bit different. she has just enough in her to smile and convince herself #just barely. BARELY convince herself. that everyone does care #but it's SO BRITTLE #because her self esteem is just as awful as Siffrin's! #she just had a slightly different way of coping! #i think Mira KNOWS this after realizing she was wrong to immediately assume Siffrin never cared #knows that she's one misunderstanding away from assuming the same of the others #and i love to think she and Siffrin recognize that and work on it together! #realizing how abysmal self esteem can in fact be cruel if you project it! #Mira even says it herself with 'is that how you see me?' #so i think she's realizing it now! #lowering yourself can often feel like you're lifting others up. by making yourself useless #your friends are more important. it feels like a service to them. a compliment. they're more deserving after all. right? #but lowering yourself in this imaginary hierarchy can be so cruel to those you put on a pedestal! #Mira and Sif are two terrified bunnies in a field trying to be quiet and not startle each other #but the silence just ends up scaring them MORE when they bump into each other #and i think sometimes! that's the best way for those with self esteem issues and anxiety to learn! #by having someone with those same traits and viewing them from the outside #you see how much it hurts when a loved one thinks so little of themselves #AND THAT'S WHY I LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH #THEY'RE SO GOOD FOR EACH OTHER #it hurts ripping off the bandaid but they gotta! and who better to do that with than someone who loves you! #someone you trust! you've endured hell with! (via @zillyblog)

i really love how intensely Mirabelle reacts to act 5 Siffrin botched friendquest.

Isabeau is mostly operating out of concern and, eventually, hurt. he already knows something’s up before Siffrin gets to him. he knows something truly awful must be wrong for Siffrin to be lashing out like they are, and as soon as he can’t handle the situation anymore, he leaves and asks (with strained cheer) for time apart to cool off.

most of Bonnie’s anger comes from being upset and afraid that Siffrin would willingly put themself in danger for no reason, when that’s exactly why they’ve been so unsettled since the eye incident. they hate that Siffrin values their own life so little, they hate that they’re the cause of any pain or loss for him, and here he is, putting himself in that situation AGAIN. on purpose. it’s loud and explosive, but it’s familiar, too, being “hated” by Bonnie for this reason.

Odile pushes, and keeps pushing, until her concern overwhelms Siffrin and they strike where they know she’s most vulnerable. she gets physical, just for a moment, grabbing his collar before controlling herself and letting go. her fury shuts down into cold detachment, and she walks away.

but Mirabelle—dear, sweet, gentle, loving Mirabelle, “the most wonderful being on earth,” with her secret “ruthless side” that largely involves lightly badmouthing people behind their backs and then apologizing—slaps them. immediately.

and then COMPLETELY RENOUNCES THEIR FRIENDSHIP.

not just “we’re not friends anymore,” but “we were never friends in the first place.”

that’s!!! pretty extreme!!!!

of course, she ALSO starts by asking what’s wrong. something must have happened for him to act like this. but as soon as Siffrin brushes her off, she jumps past that line of questioning and dives headfirst into re-evaluating everything she thought she knew about them as a a person.

if he could say something like that to her and not see anything wrong with it, then she was wrong to treat him as a friend, wrong to read camaraderie into his teasing, wrong to think they must care about them all under their aloof demeanor.

that’s how Mirabelle phrases it—“I was wrong about you”—but i think that there’s a hidden layer of I was right about you, too.

she talks about the way they tease her like she had to convince herself that he was doing it in a friendly way. she says they talk like they “know better than her” like that’s a thought she’s had for a LONG time.

“Always soooo mysterious, Siffrin, always talking as if you're better than me! As if you know me!!! But you don't, Siffrin!!! You're just as lost and useless as I am!!! So stop!!! Talking!!! As if you know me!!!!!!”

none of this comes across as a new, sudden way to view Siffrin for her. it doesn’t shock or confuse her. it makes her angry, defensive, almost like she was waiting for something like this to happen at some point. the feeling of resentment, frustration, jealousy, being patronized and condescended to—this is something she’s been actively pushing down and rejecting this entire time, but they’ve given her ample reason for it all to boil to the surface. violently.

Mirabelle’s kindness is not inherent or easy. it’s a choice she’s making. she treats Siffrin warmly because she gives him the benefit of the doubt—refusing to act based on anxiety-fueled, cynical speculation, and reassuring herself that his actions are driven by care and friendship even if she can’t quite see it.

“I was wrong about you” doesn’t mean she always and without question believed them to be a fundamentally kind, caring person from the beginning—it’s that her first, colder instincts were right, and she was wrong to convince herself otherwise.

never mind that she asked what was wrong at first. she barely gives them time to speak in their own defense, to explain what they really meant by what they said. all of her suppressed doubts and frustrations are getting aired out now, now that all the trust she’d so deliberately placed in him has been betrayed. her pain feels bigger than this singular moment, so when she hurts him back, she makes sure it extends back through the entirety of their relationship for him, too.

“You're awful. You're not my friend, not my ally, not anything. You never were.”

like the others, she goes back to the clocktower and tells Siffrin not to come back until later. but there’s a finality to the way she ends this confrontation that isn’t quite there with the others. Isabeau and Odile reach their breaking point and remove themselves from the situation, asking for space to cool off but still somewhat leaving the door open for Siffrin to tell them what’s really going on at some point. Mirabelle is the only one who tries to fully cut ties—after everything else she says, her “I don’t want to see you until tonight” reads to me somewhat as “I don’t want to see you anymore unless I have to.”

I can’t wait to never see you again.

even back at the clocktower, Mirabelle doesn’t really defend Siffrin’s place in the party when Odile suggests leaving them behind out of concern for their trustworthiness on the most important day of the journey. Isabeau and Bonnie protest out of sentimentality and faith in Siffrin’s abilities and connection to them, and Mirabelle agrees, but…

“I agree, but... B-But would he even agree to come with us, still? Maybe they won't even come back tonight...”

she doesn’t say much outside of that. maybe the stutter and hesitation here are signs of regret about how things happened, but she lacks Isabeau and Bonnie’s confidence that Siffrin even wants to come back to them in the first place. she doesn’t trust that their bond was real anymore. maybe it never was in the first place, or maybe she broke whatever was there herself.

and she’s still mad when they finally catch up to Siffrin at the King! and she makes sure Siffrin knows that—after saving them, assuring him that he no longer needs to fight, that they’re all there for him. she still cares, of course she still cares—she’s still hurt, too, but they can figure that part out once there’s less world-ending stuff going on.

she’s the first to say that they all reserve the right to still be angry at Siffrin later—and that they’ve already forgiven him.

she’s also the first to say we want to stay with you, too. it’s not just you.

she was wrong! she thought they didn’t care but they care so much, it’s overwhelming, it’s world-ending.

i think she’s gonna be wallowing in guilt post-canon the moment she remembers what she said and did TO SIFFRIN and not just what Siffrin said to her. especially now that she knows Siffrin’s exact hangups, and especially especially if she figures out what Siffrin was trying to say.

they put themself through hell out of loneliness and fear that none of the others cared about him the way he cared about them, he was going insane from repetition and exhaustion and hunger and trying to keep them all safe and together, and all they did in the midst of all that was say something kind of mean to her one time (that turned out to not even be MEANT to be mean it was supposed to be HELPFUL they just SAID IT ALL WRONG) and she SLAPPED THEM? and told him that they WEREN’T FRIENDS AT ALL??? how could she!!! she should have known better!! what they said hurt a lot but still!!!

so when they eventually manage to try to talk about it, they end up almost in, like, a guilt competition.

Mirabelle apologizing for how she reacted, that she shouldn’t have yelled or hit him, that she doesn’t want to be the kind of person who acts that way out of anger and she’s sorry that she made Siffrin expect that reaction from her, she should have known better and believed in him more and they only messed up like that because they were losing their mind in a time loop but what’s HER excuse—

and Siffrin going nononono stop I deserved it—(HUH DON’T SAY THAT NO YOU DIDN’T)—and that he should never have said such awful things to her, ever, and she was under so much pressure already with the weight of the country and everyone’s lives and futures and her religion and their whole party counting on her to do this impossible task because she’s the only one who can, all this unbearable expectation and hope crushing her, and they KNEW that but they thought they could skip to the ending as though her feelings didn’t matter at all, like helping her wasn’t as important as saving a little time—

until they’re just. in tears together, apologizing for all the horrible things they did in between complimenting each other’s strength and kindness and resilience and how much they admire each other and saying that no, everything you did was completely understandable, actually, the only one who sucks here is me. which neither of them will accept coming from the other!!

they’re so similar, in ways they couldn’t really understand, before.

warm, affectionate, perfect Mirabelle, the resolute hero, a beacon of compassion and hope for all those around her, who wears her heart on her sleeve, her fear making her courage shine all the brighter—nothing like the insignificant, forgettable Siffrin, too terrified to be known, too fragile to touch, too selfish and disgusting to bear letting go.

cool, mysterious, unflappable Siffrin, the worldly traveler, as charming and silly as they are confident and skilled, who brushed off losing an eye like it was nothing, accepting the risks of this journey with barely more than a shrug—nothing like the anxious, stagnant, undeserving Mirabelle, a fraud and a nobody crumbling under the weight of a mission too important to be entrusted to someone like her, doubting herself, doubting her friends, doubting her mentor, doubting her faith, too weak and brittle to bend and change the way the world needs her to without breaking.

not worth bothering others with their problems. they should be able to handle this alone. stay positive, stay calm. breathe in, and out.

they’ll struggle with it, still—the hiding, the minimizing—but now, they understand each other a little better. they can hold each other accountable for what they leave unsaid.

it’ll get easier, eventually. they have plenty of time.

[cyarskaren52]

I was heated about Nelly and then just found out about Uncle Snoop.

Like I was outraged at first but then again I remembered, I’m a 92%er. I should be resting not waisting my energy being outraged at some nigpenes who deserved to have karma beat the crap out of them… metaphorically

I think an important step to of not getting off your Square is understanding that these people owe us nothing and in return we owe them nothing so if the mutual contract we thought we had them is moot... act accordingly I think spreading around that withered Pig in box braids and letting everybody know these niggas is performing it's kind of giving it more hype just ignore it and when they come around asking for support we have receipts post and screenshots... and then hit them with

[goaskangel]

olderboyfriend!nanami headcanons

cw : age gap, 30-40's with 18+ reader, posessive/slightly toxic nanami, spanking, ccuuummmmm

olderboyfriend!nanami who comes your way, very unexpectedly. you could question why his instincts leaned towards a young lady like you, when he himself carries a sophisticated attitude with ironed suits and framed glasses. 

you’re not complaining, though!

olderboyfriend!nanami who takes his time to get you to warm up to him, knows he’s intimidating to the average person with his stoic and reserved resting face. but he knows a girl like you just needs a little more time. 

olderboyfriend!nanami knows how to schedule and work around things. always managing to take you on dates every friday, even through his tight work schedule. a dinner, a fancy local restaurant, maybe a movie or bar if he’s feeling playful. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who takes appreciation in every gesture you do for him. his sweet baby who goes out of her way to bake him a sweet treat or pick up his favorites from his dearest bakery. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who doesn’t only love you but guides you. feeling stressed out about work or university? don’t even worry—nanami’s got you all figured out. whether you need help organizing your messy set-up and schedules, or if you just need someone to talk too. he’s just always so reasonable and gives the best advice while understanding and listening to every word you say.

olderboyfriend!nanami who drives you around anytime you need. gotta run some errands? kento’s right outside, wanna go shopping? hell, his card’s already in your hands. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who can’t help but keep a hand on you, either for his own comfort or your safety, but he is very protective. taking quick glances of your surroundings as you pick through a clothing rack at your favorite store, his hands never leaving your waist or shoulders. he’s got to ensure his girl’s safety is all! and to make sure no guy your age thinks they’ve got a chance.  this goes for anywhere. taking walks with his arm around you and driving around with his hand on your thigh. especially at bars or parties, he knows how guys your age are. they don’t care about your well being, can’t take care of you like he can. obviously you’d be with somebody who’s already got it all figured out!

olderboyfriend!nanami loves domestic moments with you. his only motive to keep going throughout the week is for friday nights into saturday mornings—when he’s got you nice and comfy in his bed, or when he stays the night at your place, which is when he silently plans to get you moved in with him. 

he likes to feel you under him, or the feeling of you rubbing your face into his chest when you’re about to fall asleep. he runs his fingers through your hair, soothing himself to sleep.

NSFW

olderboyfriend!nanami who, along with being overprotective with his actions, tells you in bed. his mature hands running over and over your body as he fucks himself into you. kissing your pretty face between thrusts, and speaks, 

“can’t imagine myself without you, god—you’re all mine, y’know that, pretty? nobody’s gonna feel you and love you like i do. nobody.”

olderboyfriend!nanami who enjoys ending and starting his day with burying his cock into your sweet cunt. keeping you tightly against him as you cockwarm him into the morning. some days you’ll wake up before him, admire how his usually tamed, blonde hair runs messily with sleep. you’ll notice the morning wood he’s got going and take it as your duty to wake you precious, older man with a sweet morning treat. 

just how thankful he gets when he’s woken by your hot, young mouth around his length. his darling suckling at his creamy tip for breakfast. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who loves watching you touch yourself. maybe he’s got you twirling around in lingerie you brought for him with his card. he’ll lay you down and watch as you moan and grind your hips restlessly with your smaller fingers rubbing at your clit. teasing you, he’ll keep his greedy eyes on the way your pussy leaks with every praise he adores you with, his own hand adjusting himself through sweatpants. 

olderboyfriend!nanami who can’t himself when it comes to your skin. with his possessiveness, he just wants to mark you in any way possible. kissing your lips long enough until your lips are plump with blood and pouting from how he keeps teasing you. leaving love bites on your neck, trailing to your breasts, licking them softly to show some type of poise. sucking hickeys onto your neck, barely low enough to hide them with the collar of your work shirt. 

his favorite—when you’re acting up. get a little too comfortable with him, say something you know you’ll regret and you’ll end up over his knee. smacking handprints into your perfect body, putting you back into your place, he just can’t get enough of it. 

another favorite would be pumping load after load into your tight pussy. too many to count, thick and heavy loads of cum filling you to the brim. you could almost forget his older age with the stamina he’s got of a young man. aaa, he’s perfect, you wouldn’t take him any other way!

comments, reblogs, likes are always apperciated !

masterlist

[hayatheauthor]

10 Subtle Ways to Show Love Without Saying “I Love You”

Subtle gestures can convey deep affection and understanding without the need for words. Here are 10 subtle ways to reveal just how much your character cares, without using words:

1. Surprising Them with Their Favorite Snack

Character A notices Character B eyeing their favorite treat at a store/party, and later surprises them with it, showing they're paying attention to the little things.

2. Fixing Something Without Being Asked

When B's favorite [object] breaks, A quietly repairs it and leaves it for them to find. This doesn't have to be about objects, e.g. issues like not having a ride home and A picks them up without B asking.

3. Leaving a Hidden Note

A slips a small note into B's bag or coat pocket, something sweet or funny; could be good after a minor fight, or if B has a dangerous career.

4. Covering Them with a Blanket

B falls asleep on the couch, and A drapes a blanket over them gently. Again, cute if it's after a fight.

5. Warming Their Hands with Theirs

On a chilly day, A takes B’s cold hands into their own without a word, offering warmth and comfort.

6. Offering Their Jacket

As B shivers in the cold, A instinctively hands over their jacket without waiting to be asked. Post-fight cuteness x3

7. Cleaning Up After a Tough Day

B comes home exhausted, and A has already tidied up the space. Great if they're married with kids.

8. Brushing Something Off Their Face

When B has a strand of hair or speck of dust on their face, A gently brushes it away; a classic, intimate action.

9. Waiting Up for Them to Get Home

A stays up late just to make sure B gets home safely, greeting them with a warm smile or a cup of tea when they walk in.

10. Running an Errand They Dislike

Knowing B dreads a particular chore or errand, A does it for them without making a big deal, or when they’re stressed/sad. 

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

Instagram Tiktok

[science-hoes]

Taste

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: FILTHY smut, lactation kink, unprotected sex, language, canon typical medical drama, mentions of addiction

Description: Robby is fighting nicotine withdrawals, but the reader has something sweeter to curb the cravings.

Michael Rovinavitch Masterlist

—

Robby sipped on the beer that Donnie had tossed him before leaving the usual post-shift hangout. He used to stay longer, maybe even have two beers, but now he had you and Eliza. That was much more rewarding after a grueling day in the Pitt.

Especially after today. Three kids ended up in his ER following a “chicken pox party.” They had been given aspirin and developed Reye’s syndrome, each being sent to the pediatric ICU after Robby evaluated them. What a surprise that anti-vax parents also didn’t know the contraindications of aspirin. The parents were sent with them, but not without a scathing lecture from the chief attending. The selfishness of those parents refusing to immunize their children bewildered him in general, but now that he had a baby girl waiting at home for him, who didn’t have a full immune system yet, it made his blood boil.

As he walked home, he could smell the intoxicatingly thick smell of cigarettes as he passed by strangers with the vice between their fingers. His eyes nearly rolled back at the aroma, wishing he could relieve his stress with a long drag. Just one, that’s all he would need. But cigarettes were seductive, and he could never have just one. Instead, he reached into the side pocket of his backpack and popped a piece of nicotine gum out of the aluminum packet. Not nearly enough of the drug compared to a cigarette, but it kept him clean.

Robby approached the small but beautiful house you had picked out together just a month ago. Only a few blocks from PTMC, making it an easy walk to and from work. That was the main selling point, along with the somewhat spacious backyard for Eliza to play in as she grew up. He juggled his keys, finding the new house key, and unlocked the door carefully.

“Hey, kid. I’m home.” He called out, but not too loud, just in case the baby was sleeping.

After there was no response, he shut the door quietly behind him. His backpack dropped to the floor, a physical metaphor for the burden that fell off his back the moment he smelled the warm vanilla scent of the candle you had been burning. Even while on maternity leave, you found time to make the new house feel welcoming.

Robby stepped out of his New Balance sneakers and padded across the hardwood floor to the living room. There he saw you on the couch, cradling Eliza in your arms, as she drifted off to sleep. The sight was truly beautiful. He couldn’t hide his smile even if he wanted to.

You looked up to him and smiled. “Hey.” You whispered.

He sat down next to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his nose into your shoulder. A heavy exhale left his lungs while he watched his daughter. Eliza’s eyelids fluttered as she dreamed in her mother’s arms.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day.” Robby mumbled into the fabric of your shirt. His shirt, actually.

You tilted your head slightly until it rested against his. “Long day?”

“Mmhmm.” He murmured.

“Do you want to put Eliza down? Then we can talk about it?” You asked.

That was the routine in the Robinavitch household since Eliza was born three months ago. Robby would come home from his 12 hour shift, but the baby would already be asleep. So, you let him put her down in the crib, always taking a few minutes to absorb her snuggles and kiss her before letting her rest until she woke up in the middle of the night. He would always get her before you could register her cries, just for the chance to see her while she was awake.

Robby sighed heavily and shook his head reluctantly. “No. We had some kids come in today with Reye’s syndrome from chicken pox. I don’t want to touch her right now just in case.” He answered, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice.

You turned your head slightly to press a kiss to his temple. “Okay. Let me put her down then.” You offered.

Robby didn’t answer but let go of your waist. As you slowly made your way to the nursery, he couldn’t help but watch the dancing flame coming from the candle you had lit. Almost taunting him. The same tiny burst of light that used to burn his tobacco for him. He rubbed his eyes to alleviate his thoughts, jaw faithfully chewing the gum that was supposed to be curbing his desire.

You walked back into the room and noticed his distress. “What’s wrong, love?” You asked as you sank in the couch next to him.

Robby’s hands moved from his eyes to scratch his beard. “You know it’s days like this that I really crave a fucking cigarette.” He muttered.

Your hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, fingertips kneading into the wrinkles there. “You don’t want to break your clean streak. Is the gum not helping anymore?” You asked.

He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes, indulging in the comforting movements. “I’m going through a pack a day.” He admitted.

“What about Zyns? That’s what Langdon uses.” You suggested.

He huffed and opened his eyes just to roll them. “Yeah, because he’s the poster child for making good drug choices.”

Your eyes narrowed, massaging hands stopped. “Michael.”

Robby scrunched his face at the use of his first name and nodded. “Sorry, that was mean.” He confessed. He held his hands in front of him, watching the way they trembled. “I’ve gotta do something. I’m fucking shaking. I can barely run a simple stitch. This plus the caffeine…it’s getting to be too much.”

After his apology, your nails began to scratch the freshly buzzed hairline at the base of his neck. “Maybe it’s time for one of those nicotine nasal sprays?” You offered.

He just nodded in agreement, leaning back into your touch. He would have fallen asleep right there on the couch like that, with your hand in his hair, but your tiny moans of discomfort pulled him back to reality. “What’s wrong, love?” He asked, sitting up a bit.

You pressed your hands to your chest, pushing against your breasts to relieve some kind of pressure. “I’m gonna have to pump again.” You grunted.

Robby put his hand on your back as you shifted uncomfortably. “How many times today?” He questioned.

“Eight.” You admitted.

His brow furrowed with slight concern. “Eight?”

You nodded. “I’m gonna have to start taking some of the frozen milk to a bank. We don’t have enough room in the freezer for anymore.”

Robby watched you for a moment, gears in that genius brain of his turning, jaw grinding on the nicotine gum. Without a word, he got up and walked to the kitchen. You heard him spit the gum out in the trashcan before he returned. He shrugged of his navy hoodie and tossed it on the ground. He sank onto the couch again, legs sprawling naturally, and patted his thigh.

“Come here.” He ordered.

You watched him with skeptical eyes, but followed his lead as he guided your legs until you straddled him.

“Robby, I need to-“

“I’m gonna handle it.” He cut you off.

Before you could answer, he’d pulled that baggy old shirt of his off your upper body, leaving you in nothing but your pajama shorts and maternity bra. His coarse hands ran across the luxuriously smooth skin of your waist, thumbs brushing against your shriveling stretch marks from pregnancy.

Your cheeks reddened as you realized his intentions. “Oh.” Was all you could say.

His fingers trailed across your skin until they reached behind you, unclasping your bra. The silky straps slid down your shoulders, and you tossed the bra behind you. Robby groaned unconsciously as your breasts dropped to your chest and a smirk played at his lips.

“What immunoglobulin is found in breast milk?” He asked.

Your eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. You grabbed fistfuls of his black scrub top, pulling him forward. “Don’t you dare quiz me right now.” You hissed.

Robby’s smirk turned into a devilish grin, and those brown eyes darkened with blown pupils. “I’m your attending. It’s my job. Plus you have boards coming up soon.” He replied.

Your glare could have sliced through marble, but your husband was a force to be reckoned with. “Breastfeeding isn’t on the board exam.” You grumbled.

He chuckled and winked at you, that fucking charming man. “It could be.” He teased.

Your breathing was becoming labored as the fullness in your chest increased. “Michael Robinavitch, if you do not help me, I will report you to the Board for sharing unauthorized board exam content.” You threatened.

But he knew your threats were empty and driven by madness, and that diabolical grin remained on his face, smile wrinkles deepening around his eyes. He tilted his chin up to where his lips ghosted against yours. “I would answer the question if I were you.”

His fingers began to trace your shoulders, moving down but not close enough. You shoved him back against the couch, his hospital badge clacking against his chest. “IgA.” You finally answered through clenched teeth.

“Good girl.”

Robby’s large, freckled hands moved to your engorged breasts, massaging them gently. The sound that left your throat was animalistic. You grasped his forearms, trying to guide him to what you needed.

“What is the sympathetic innervation of the myoepithelial cells in breast tissue?” His voice was unwavering.

Your face scrunched as the fullness began to become overbearing. “Robby…” You growled.

His thumbs hovered above your aching nipples. “Come on, pretty girl.” He beckoned.

You struggled to sort through your medical education as his hands kneaded into your chest. “T1 through T5.” You responded.

Robby chuckled and moved his lips to your breast, his beard adding a rough sensation. “Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed, beginning to kiss your skin.

His fingers began to tweak your nipples, eliciting a moan of painful pleasure from you. Your hips rocked once against his absentmindedly. “Michael, please.” You begged, grabbing the back of his head to guide him.

Robby paused all of his ministrations to look up at you with those big brown eyes, glistening in the dark. “Last question.” He mumbled against your breasts. “What hormone initiates the let-down reflex?”

Your chest heaved in anticipation, and your grip on the back of his head tightened. “Oxytocin.” You answered like your life fucking depended on it.

He smiled and wrapped his lips around one of your hard nipples. Your mouth dropped open as he suckled gently and kept his fingers on your other breast. His free hand moved to your lower pack, guiding your hips to rock against his. You could feel his hardness teasing against your clothed pussy as you grinded.

Then that familiar pins and needles sensation rushed through your chest. You shuddered as the let down reflex ran its course. Robby hummed against your breast as the first drops of milk graced his suckling tongue. Liquid pearls slowly dribbled down his hand that tweaked at the other nipple. The rush of oxytocin seeped through your whole body, and you finally relaxed in your husband’s embrace.

Your fingers massaged the back of his neck like you had earlier, rewarding him for his assistance. His rapid, small suckles began to turn into longer, deeper pulls as the flow became continuous. Your other breast began to leak freely, a small river of cream streaking down his hairy forearm. He breathed loudly through his nose in between swallows, indulging his new favorite dessert.

“What does it taste like?” You breathed, enamored by the sight before you.

Robby took a long drag at your nipple before sitting up and pressing his mouth against yours without a word, pouring your own nectar onto your tongue, the rest spilling in between your chins. It was sweeter than you expected, and you understood why he hadn’t come up for air in several minutes.

“Jesus, fuck, I’d swallow poison if it tasted like you.” He mumbled against your lips.

You pulled away to look at him. The beads of white meshed into his beard, peppering it further, and his lips were swollen from suction. Your husband had never looked so viscerally attractive. You reached at his waist and hiked up his scrub top, tossing it behind you.

“Can I please ride you?” You asked, desperately chasing your oxytocin high.

Robby chuckled and leaned back against the couch for a moment to shift out of his scrub bottoms and boxers. “Can’t say no when you ask so nicely.” He teased.

You giggled and shimmied out of your pajama shorts that had a wet stain already. Without a moment of hesitation, you sank down on his massive cock, the familiar stretch that still made your back arch. He took advantage and latched onto your nipple again, groaning at your tightness before he began to suck.

You bounced on his hips, adding to the suction patterns he pulled on your breast. He continued to tug at the other nipple, the milk spraying across his bare chest, scratching the itch in your sensory neurons. His thrusts grew stronger, and your release drew closer.

“Robby, I’m gonna-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Robby fisted both of your breasts, squeezed them together, and enveloped both nipples in his mouth. You held back a scream as he swallowed hard around them, determined to get every last drop.

Your eyes squeezed shut as the white hot explosion of your climax shot across your nervous system. Your body went limp, draping your arms around his shoulders. His grunts became more frequent as his hip thrusts faltered at the feeling of your pulsing walls. The only time his mouth let go of your breasts was to grunt as he came. You rocked gently, working him through his orgasm, pulling every last bit of cum he had to offer.

Robby slouched back against the couch, and you enjoyed the view. His soft upper body glistening with sweat and tributaries of milk. His face and ears flushed with exertion. His lips swollen from half an hour of suckling. The pearls of milk still nestled into his beard.

“You’re hot.” You teased, resting your hands on his biceps, tracing his tattoos.

He let out a strangled chuckle as he caught his breath, and a content smile played on his lips. “You keep me young, kid. You know that?” He asked.

You smiled and leaned to give him a sweet, soft kiss on his puffed lips. “Good. We need you around for a long time.” You replied.

Robby lifted his hand to caress your face. “I’m gonna be. Not gonna miss a second.” He assured you.

You raised an eyebrow. “That means no relapsing on cigarettes.” You lectured.

He sighed and nodded. “I know.” He replied, looking down at his forearms that were still streaked with milk. “But I think I found something to distract from the cravings.” He winked at you as he dragged his tongue across his veiny forearm up to his wrist, gathering every last drop.

You couldn’t help but blush through your laugh. Carefully, you lifted off his lap and pulled your pajama shorts back on. You used the old t-shirt that you had been wearing to clean up the mess on your chest and his.

“Hey! That’s my shirt.” Robby complained as you wiped his upper body.

You shook your head. “It’s our shirt.”

He rolled his eyes and hoisted his boxers and scrub pants back on. Just as he was about to make a snarky comment, tiny cries came from the baby monitor that sat on the table next to the couch.

You smiled slightly. “Go see our girl. She’s missed you.” You said.

He hesitated for a moment. “I saw those kids today.” He said.

“You don’t have your scrub top on. Use the hand sanitizer next to the changing table. You’ll be alright, doc.” You replied.

Robby chuckled and headed to the nursery. Within seconds, the crying stopped, and you heard his smooth voice singing a Hebrew lullaby to Eliza. He reentered the living room with your baby girl tucked into his elbow like a football. She was so tiny compared to his large frame. You walked over to him and rested your head on his shoulder. Eliza’s big brown eyes stared at her father’s identical ones.

“Did you have a good day with Mommy?” He cooed.

She reached for the sparkling pendant at his neck, and he held her closer to put it in her grasp. Her tiny fingers wrapped around the Star, pulling it to her mouth.

“She’s gonna start using that to teeth pretty soon.” You mused.

He smiled. “I know. She’s getting so big.”

You felt an unusual ache in your heart. “I know. I hate it.” You admitted.

“I’ll stay up with her a little longer. You get some sleep. You’ve been working hard today.” He offered, pressing a kiss to your head.

You stifled a laugh. “You’re the one who worked a 12 hour shift.” You reminded him.

Robby met your gaze, his eyes shining in the living room glow. “You’re with our daughter all day. Taking care of her. Loving her. Making our new house a home.” He leaned down to kiss you sincerely. “You’re giving me the world, kid. That deserves some rest.”

You hugged your husband tightly, tears stinging your eyes. “Thank you.” You whispered.

“Thank you.” He repeated. “Now, go. I’ve got our girl.” He assured.

You kissed Eliza goodnight before walking to the bedroom. As you neared the room, you heard Robby’s voice carrying through the hallways as he sang his Hebrew lullaby again.

—

A/N: Thank y’all for humoring my pathetic Dr. Robby thoughts. As soon as I came up with this idea, I couldn’t stop writing until it was done. I can’t wait to write some more smut for him.

[yasministration]

time and place - spencer reid

summary: two attractive fbi agents interrupt your pool party to ask about your father - bummer right? wrong. wc: 1.2k+

The scorching summer sun was pining against the team to solve this case. Any more time outside and they would either catch a heatstroke or give up entirely. Hotch tugged at the collar around his neck, sweat seeping into its expensive fabric. It was difficult to breath in this heat, and the stress of the situation only made things worse.

He stood with Reid outside a suspect’s house, hearing the doorbell echo from inside the house. Hotch furrowed his eyebrows, unable to hear any sound from inside the house, but loud giggles distracted him from its emptiness. The noise seemed to be coming from the backyard, Hotch figured, just in time for a soothing voice to call out “Hello?”

Both Hotch and Reid’s heads snapped towards the sound, coming from the side of the house. Above the gate leading into the backyard, you propped yourself up using your elbows, feet dangling above the ground as you peeked around the house, trying to see who was there.

The two men walked towards you, immediately scanning your appearance. Water decorated your skin, glistening in the sun, your hair soaked, resembling a siren. You wore a small bikini top, and the two profilers immediately figured you didn’t want to drag water across the house.

Spencer squinted slightly, eyes weak against the sun. “Hi,” Hotch started, walking over to the gate alongside Spencer. “I’m supervisory special agent Hotchner, this is Doctor Reid, we’re from the FBI.” A small frown overtook your features and you hopped down from the gate, completely disappearing from the two agents’ view.

A metal clatter filled their ears as you unlocked the gate, swinging it open to stand before the two tall men. Spencer gulped as you came into view, so pretty, so innocent, but with eyes fully trained on Hotch, head tilted to the side as you echoed “FBI?”

Hotch nodded, respectfully looking away from your half-naked, bikini clad form, keeping his eyes glued to your face. You shifted on the warm grass underneath your feet, brushing your hair away from your face.

A loud call of your name came from the backyard, and you turned around, yelling back to your friends. “Give me two minutes!” Neither of the two men could help their gaze from dropping to your ass, barely covered by the flimsy material of your bikini bottoms.

“Sorry about that. FBI?”

Hotch nodded, clearing his throat. “We’re looking for Johnny Hall. We have reason to believe he may be involved with our investigation.” Your scoff surprised them, and Spencer lifted his sunglasses from his eyes to see you better. “That’s my dad. He’s at work, probably hooking up with his secretary right now. If you don't find him there, he'll be at The Den — that bar on the edge of town.”

Hotch nodded, fishing his phone from his pocket and dialling Garcia’s number. Finally, your eyes trailed over to look at Spencer — really look at him. He was cute, and not much older than you. An FBI agent. Cocking your head to the side, you leaned against the gate, humming attentively. “Aren’t you a little young to be part of the FBI? To be a doctor?”

“I, uh, graduated early.”

“So what’s your PhD in?” You questioned, raising your eyebrows at him, glancing back at Agent Hotchner, busy on the phone. Spencer caught the slight movement; you didn’t want Hotch to be done with his phone call just yet.

“Well, well I actually have three. One in mathematics, chemistry and engineering.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, crossing your arms together, pushing your breasts together, which attracted the genius’ poor gaze down to your them. From the look on your face, he expected the curious tone in your voice when you asked “And that got you into the FBI?”

Spencer tore his gaze away from your tits, but made the mistake of looking down at the rest of your body. His eyes scanned over the curve of your waist, the fat of your thighs. He gulped thickly. You were beautiful.

“You gonna answer the question, or continue to stare, doctor?” Spencer’s breath hitched in his throat, and he forced his eyes back up to meet yours. You seemed amused, however not in the least surprised that he was staring. You must have been used to male attention, Spencer figured.

“Um, no, I have bachelors in psychology and sociology too. Are you- are you in university?” Nodding with a smile, you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “I’m studying law and public health on a scholarship.”

Spencer spluttered, his eyes going wide. Not only were you one of the most gorgeous women he had ever seen, but an academic too? Studying law?

“You know, 96% of law students face significant stress levels, which is even higher than students studying medicine. So it’s really important to have a good work-life balance, to increase your mental health.” Nodding slowly, you didn’t bother hiding the small chuckle that escaped you at the statistics. “Okay. And how do you suggest I do that?”

“Well, spending time with friends, like I assume you’re doing today can help, as long as they don’t bring on more stress to you. That’s why it’s good to have friends outside of your own degree.”

“Do friends include boyfriends too?”

Spencer deflated at your question, averting his gaze from you. “Ye-yeah, of course!”

“So how about you take me out sometime, Doctor Reid?” His head snapped back towards you, his mouth parting in shock at the flirtatious smile on your face. “Might help destress me.” You continued, dragging your eyes down his body with a smirk tugging at your lips. You made a point to train your eyes onto his crotch for a couple of seconds before looking back up towards his face and licking your lips.

When Spencer didn’t answer, too flustered to form incoherent words, you took a few steps towards him, tugging his notepad out from between the waistband of his trousers and his leather belt. Hotchner paused from where he held his phone close to his ear, staring at you in interest, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as you noted down your number on the yellow paper.

“For when you make a decision.” You mumbled, pressing the notepad to Spencer’s chest. One of his hands came up to press against the notepad to keep it snug against him as you pulled your hand away.

“Reid,” The agent turned at the sound of his boss, perking up slightly. He nodded his head towards him, and as though remembering that your father was a suspect in their case, raced away from you towards Hotch. “Let’s go. Thank you for your co-operation.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes trained on the two agents until the car doors closed behind them. It was only later that night, when you got out of the much needed post-pool shower, that your phone buzzed with the alert of a new message. Your dad was safely in his room — not the suspect the two agents had been looking for this morning. You assumed that was why Doctor Reid had messaged you now.

No guilt of dating a serial killer’s daughter.

‘Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid from this morning. I would like to take you up on that offer to take you out to dinner sometime. It’s completely fine if you’ve changed your mind! In that case, just ignore this message.’

Giggling to yourself, you hopped onto your bed, kicking your feet behind you.

‘Now why would I ignore anything from your pretty mouth, doc? Time and place, I’ll be there.’

[iris-qt]

He’s Never Like This

drunk theo, soft chaos, and a lot of feelings he normally pretends he doesn’t have

You tell yourself it’s nothing.

Just concern. Basic human decency. Something any reasonable person would do when their best friend shows up at a party with shadows under his eyes from the stress of finals week and a drink in his hand he doesn’t seem to remember picking up.

You tell yourself that even as you cut through the haze of perfume and smoke and too-loud laughter in the common room, scanning for him. Even as your heartbeat quickens, like it always does when he’s near.

You find him on the floor.

Well. Slouched on the floor. One leg stretched out, the other bent just enough to rest his elbow on it. His tie’s been loosened and forgotten, his shirt’s half-untucked, and someone has drawn a tiny star in blue ink on the back of his hand. You can tell from the way he’s swaying slightly that he’s had far more than usual. Theodore Nott doesn’t get drunk. Not like this.

“Hey,” you murmur, crouching beside him.

He looks up slowly, eyes unfocused but still undeniably, devastatingly him.

“You came,” he says, a little too loudly, with a dopey smile that doesn’t belong on his face. “I was thinking about you, and then... you’re here. That’s magic.”

You glance around. No one's paying attention. Somehow, that makes it worse.

“You okay?” you ask, soft, careful. “You drank a lot.”

He nods sagely. “I did. I deserve a medal. Or a nap.”

“You hate parties.”

“I do hate parties,” he agrees, swaying slightly. “But I like you.”

You blink. “Theo—”

“And you weren’t gonna come,” he adds, pouty now. “You said, ‘Too much homework,’ and I thought, ‘That’s fine. I’ll just drown myself in alcohol and existential dread.’ Very poetic.”

You exhale slowly. “Alright. Let’s get you out of here.”

You help him up. He’s heavier than he looks, and he clings to you like you’re both drowning and you’re the only piece of driftwood in the sea.

He leans close as you start leading him toward the boys’ dorm.

“You smell like vanilla,” he whispers.

You try to keep your expression neutral. “You smell like firewhiskey and poor decisions.”

“That’s my new cologne,” he says solemnly. “Limited edition.”

You get him to sit on his bed, and he flops backwards dramatically, limbs everywhere, eyes fluttering shut.

“I should kiss you,” he says to the ceiling.

You freeze.

“What?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” he mutters. “Too dizzy. Might miss.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, pulling off his shoes with practiced motions. “You’re gonna be so embarrassed tomorrow.”

He hums. “Not if you never tell me what I said.”

You smile. “Oh, I’m writing everything down.”

He groans, turning his face into the pillow. “You’re evil. Beautiful and evil. That’s a dangerous combo.”

You adjust the blanket over him, brush a bit of his hair off his forehead.

“Sleep, Theo.”

But as you turn to go, his fingers catch your wrist. His eyes are half-lidded, voice quiet now, barely a whisper.

“Stay?” he asks. “Just ‘til I fall asleep.”

You pause. Swallow.

Then nod.

You sit back down. He closes his eyes, hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist.

And just as sleep starts to pull him under, he murmurs,

“I don’t like anyone else like this. Only you.”

[cookiesandbiscuits]

If I were a mage in Twisted Wonderland, I'd already have overblotted right now.