#DRS Call

[danijaci]

misunderstandings ft. dr ratio

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[shizuart]

[elainiisms]

*me at the club* so does anyone wanna discuss queer undertones in classic literature?

[cuntyvicodin]

can you believe that this is the man almost every character on the show wanted to fuck at some point

[espeartz]

Motivational Ratios that I have on my wall. I’m being forced to lock in or he will be dissappointed in me which is a fate worse than death

[news-sportsbook]

"Pakistan's World Cup Dreams Shattered by Umpire's Call Controversy"

Pakistan’s World Cup dreams were left in shambles as they suffered a gut-wrenching one-wicket defeat at the hands of South Africa in a nail-biting encounter in Chennai. The match saw high tension, late comebacks, and a moment of heartbreak that will haunt Pakistan fans and players alike. Read more

[shotmrmiller]

size difference where the one afraid to fuck you is simon. he thinks you soft. which is what you are. soft. fragile. small.

you're not like him. nothing like the guys. battle-scarred. muscles carved by relentless missions, scars that speak of duty.

your skin divots under his fingers, yielding to his weathered touch and if he squeezes hard enough, you'll have marks by morning. (he needs to be careful, he can't hurt you, won't—)

and so simon watches you touch yourself in the beginning, clever fingers swirling over your slippery clit with practiced movements even though his cock is straining against his trousers painfully. he can hear you mewl his name through bitten lips and it takes all of his self control to not tug his jeans off, slot himself between your spread, inviting thighs and push— stretch open your fluttering walls, so hot and slick, until he meets resistance, until he can push no more but—

he can't. you'd hurt. and he'd hurt because he hurt you. he won't.

after, when your eyes are heavy lidded, mouth slightly parted in exertion, you remind him that you aren't made of glass. that you won't break. you'll shatter— in the way you do when his tongue replaces your fingers— but not break.

"not a virgin either, for christ's sake," you groan.

maybe he's thinking too hard about it. he knows your teeth have edges, knows your bite is swift when deserved. but all he's truly good at is making things give. biology made it so with his bulky frame and raw mass.

his eyes trace the contour of your collarbone. delicate. then it darts to the pulse on your wrist. vital. his hands, the size of dinner plates don't coax. they demand. he'd snap you like a twig, leaving nothing but splintered remains in his wake.

you don't seem to mind, however. it slightly alarms him. where's your self-preservation? do you enjoy pain? is this some masochistic thing?

he looks at you, all glassy eyed and dewy skinned (ethereal; you're practically glowing under the soft light of the full moon that paints the room silver) and he thinks of how it's going to take work to make it work. his cock is large (he's seen the guys' eyes pop out of their heads in the showers once they caught a glimpse of what's between his legs) but you're persistent in the end. one too many nights of having him without having him.

he understands. simon knows better than most what it's like to yearn. to want and not have. he'd cause you pain by not giving in, and cause pain by giving in. damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.

so he caves. promises to go slow. careful.

"i can take it," you bravely say but he's barely pressing himself to your entrance and you're already making noises that tug at his pathetic little heart. the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip-- you look so pretty, how'd a twisted creature like him get someone like you to come home to-- as his cock fills you has him feeling lightheaded. it takes every ounce of self control to not sink into your heat, to hook your legs around his thick waist and let gravity do the rest.

an unsteady hand weaves its way down to your stuffed cunt, fingers splitting into a vee, feeling how he splits your puffy lips, and the view makes him buck his hips involuntarily.

his hands tighten around your calves when you keen, a high pitched noise that swells the lust he feels burning white hot at the base of his spine, tips of his fingers, deep within his loins. he feels ready to burst.

and he's only halfway in.

your voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. "m-more, simon, c'mon," the n is low and drawn out.

his fingers bite into your flesh as he pushes slow, oh so slowly, until your vise-like cunt envelops him completely. the sibilant hiss you let out makes his hair stand on end. (shame pricks at his nerves like a thousand tiny needles when his cock twitches at the sound of your slightly pained moans)

simon doesn't move, feeling your swollen walls around his cock ripple, tighten and slacken, like it's got a pulse of its own. he could be here, in you, cock deep in paradise for the rest of time.

"fuck me," you warble out, hand rubbing your swollen clit to well up the pleasure that's being smothered by the searing pang of discomfort.

when simon cants his hips back, he watches his cock come out of you, glistening with slick. his jaw aches from how hard he's clenching it. control. got to keep it slow, gentle. slow, simon, slow, slow--

"harder."

he feels the sudden sharp sting of your nails and jerks forward in surprise, filling you completely in one fast movement.

your moan this time is needy, thick with want, arousal dripping from your voice as it does your pussy, coating him in creamy white, a frothy ring at the root.

simon can see the barest of bumps below your navel, or maybe he's seeing things, your hot cunt putting him in a state of delirium but the way you take all of his cock and continue to beg for more, beg him to fuck you like he means it even though he's twice if not thrice your size well...

you'll just have to forgive him on the finger-shaped bruises they're going to be on your body after.

(you'd looked so cheeky before he flipped you onto your knees, grabbing onto your delicate neck like a lifeline as he pulled your hips to meet his. you'd taken him easier here, cunt sodden with slick but the angle had him reaching a devastating depth no one else could ever dream of reaching and even though it'd sprung tears to the corners of your eyes at the pinch, "mama ain't raise no bitch.")

[kimeoshi]

Happy New Years to everyone! I wish you a prosperous and successful 2025~! 🥂

[adamant-hearts]

Can confirm the power of celebrity endorsement is real 😳😳 I somehow managed to sell this fictional cologne to myself while drawing them

[doctormori]

I love this book to death, so here's some things I noticed <3

[kyurochurro]

I STARTED HOUSE MD! :ºD

[squidpedia]

I don’t think any of you are ready for the power of my friend’s raw headcannon

Full miku drawing

[demetera-kaziaik]

they got spooked

[cowboy1ikereid]

sweet creature ~ s.r.

‘Wherever I go, you bring me home’

Summary: Spencer calls you when he’s missing home.

Warnings: pregnant!reader x husband!spencer, reader is in her second pregnancy and they already have a 3 y/o daughter, spencer is, again, a huge softie, calls you sweetheart, he's called away on an urgent case and misses you, reader is almost in third trimester, they fall asleep on the phone, cuties, inspired by sweet creature by harry styles, fluff and comfort

Category: Fluff x Comfort

Word count: 1.1k

Author's note: Spencer Reid deserved to get married and have children but he has to be a girl dad and I don't make the rules. I just know he would be the most sweet, caring and loving husband/dad in the world. Anyways I kind of had to do something to this song because I saw it live (Wembley N4 I’ll miss you forever). Enjoy!!

You were exhausted, both emotionally and physically. Being 7 and a half months pregnant and taking care of your 3 year old daughter alone had never been part of the plan. In fact, Spencer was supposed to be working either in office or from home during the later stages of your pregnancy, but a serious case meant that he was needed urgently by the BAU. With only 8 hours notice he was in Florida, and suddenly he was approximately 920.4 miles away from you.

It was around 9pm, and you’d been eagerly awaiting a phone call from your husband. You’d blame your anxiety on the hormones, but you knew it wasn’t just that. You’d always been like this whenever he was away, and you never quite managed to properly adjust to how much travelling his job required. Lizzie, your daughter, was laid next to you in the bed you and Spencer shared, asleep on his side of the bed. She was the same as you whenever her dad was away, even if she didn’t quite understand his job. She was a daddy’s girl, and if sleeping on Spencer’s side of the bed helped her to feel that little bit closer to him when he was away, you would let her. Her curly light brown hair was sprawled across the pillow which she drooled on, unconscious.

Your phone was on silent so the ringer didn’t wake her up, but as soon as you felt the persistent buzzing and Spencer’s name appeared on the screen, you stood, stretching slightly before leaving the room and quietly closing the door behind you, simultaneously swiping the button to answer the call.

“Hi.” You whispered softly, cautious not to wake up your sleeping three-year-old who was in the next room.

“Hi sweetheart. How are you?” Spencer’s sweet voice spoke over the phone.

“Hanging on. I managed to settle Lizzie after she cried because you couldn’t tuck her in tonight.. Little one has been quiet for now, but I just know that she’ll start getting active as soon as I attempt to sleep.” You spoke with a soft smile on your face at the thought of the little life growing inside of you whilst you tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room, sitting down on the sofa with a hand on your round bump, rubbing it gently.

You heard Spencer sigh over the phone. “I miss you. I saw the three of you this morning and it feels like I haven’t seen you in months.” He chuckled. Spencer was alone in his hotel room, and it felt strangely quiet. Unfamiliar. If Spencer was home, you’d be asleep in his arms by now, your soft snores echoing in the darkness of your bedroom. Pregnancy was tiring, after all. But you struggled to sleep without each other, and you knew that. Your house may as well have been cold and empty to you without him there. Your house wasn’t your home. Spencer was, and you knew that he felt the same way about you. That was why he’d called.

“Any new symptoms? At around the seven month mark, you should expect to experience some shortness of breath, discomfort which may lead to difficulty moving, frequent urination, lightheadedness caused by the baby putting pressure on your blood vessels which can slow blood flow, fatigue-” He began to reel off pregnancy symptoms until he was cut off by your sleepy laugh.

“Spence, you’ve been gone for less than a day. You don’t have to worry about me. I feel the same as I did earlier.” You giggled.

“And that is?” He questioned. You could picture him furrowing his eyebrows, and the thought of it made your heart warm.

“Achey, tired, like a whale, hungry..” You listed, and you already knew he was going to give you advice on how to deal with your symptoms. He’d done more than enough research on pregnancy when JJ was first pregnant with Henry, and since then he’d unexpectedly found himself helping a woman give birth on a case.

“You need to rest. It’s late and that’s one of the only things that could help with your symptoms right now apart from physical activity, but I doubt you’d want to do any exercise at the moment,” He instructed, and you knew that he was being serious, even with his light tone. You’d think that you’d know more about pregnancy than Spencer, with you being mid-way through your second pregnancy, but he knew everything. Whilst anybody else might have been surprised by that, you weren’t. He’d done extensive research on the topic, after all, and he continued to. “And I can also guarantee you that you don’t look like a whale.” He added, and you could hear his smile in his voice.

“That’s what you think. I can hardly move, and when I do I waddle. I waddle, Spencer!” You pouted, and you could hear him laugh.

“Well I’m sure you look beautiful whilst you waddle.” He teased.

After a few quiet conversations between the two of you, 9pm turned to 11:30pm, and you could feel your mind wanting to drift off as your conversations slowly turned into Spencer spouting off random facts whilst you listened, his voice soothing you as though he was there with you. You decided to go back upstairs and tuck yourself into bed whilst he talked, placing your phone on the nightstand. He wasn’t really next to you, but it was close enough. You knew Lizzie wouldn’t wake up between Spencer’s soft words, the low volume your phone was on and her tendency to be a heavy sleeper. However, Spencer soon realised you were responding to him less and less.

“Sweetheart?” He said quietly, and you hummed in response, already drifting off. “Do you want me to hang up?” He asked, and your eyes snapped open. “No. Uh, I mean, I’d like it if you could just… stay on the line.” You said quietly, and he understood what you meant.

“Of course,” He responded, “Good night. I love you.” He said, and you said it back.

Soon enough, you fell asleep, and if he closed his eyes, he could picture you there next to him, your soft snores echoing around his hotel room. That was all he needed to relax, and Spencer soon found himself drifting off to sleep, feeling like he was at home. Feeling like he was with his home.

You brought him home.

[nhura]

QUICK NO ONE'S LOOKING

(See readmore for thoughts, cope, bonus, etc.)

Anyone else up thinking about Ratio's big, strong, secure arms and how warm and all-consuming they could be in a hug or embrace. :/ Anyway

I just wanted to draw them being cute and seizing a sliver of a moment where they could have some PDA silly time without actually having any eyes on them. They're public figures and working adults with very clear boundaries between public persona and private life (to varying degrees of "in a sad way"), so while it may be in Aventurine's nature to constantly blur lines for various agendas and self-preservation (read: play "the flirt" without an aligned goal), I believe that in an actual relationship they'd be fairly private.

It's kind of fun to break your own rules, though! Ratio would be more upset about the consequences, though. He's a little bit of a hypocrite, which is devastating for someone of such discipline, but nobody's perfect.

I'm of the mentality of, "If you're tired of working on it, then just post it!", so here are some fun peripherals that I didn't feel like adding:

Some staff in the background sweeping up to evoke a blended sense of fragile privacy and liminal time.

A laptop on the aquarium/bar/counter because there's something fascinating about seeing people on their work laptops in public.

The rest of their clothes (casual friday)

[121231212i]

Honkai: Star rail | Aventurine & Dr. Ratio