At Long Last. Vindication.

Walter have you made a shield yet? You're gonna wanna make a shield before you go into that cave Walter. Those skeletons are going make easy pickings of you without a shield I've seen it time and time again

Puzzles

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!Reader (mention of Marc Spector x fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)

Fic Type: Drabble

Summary: Steven’s not rough with you, like Marc or Jake. He’s more… Reserved. But he will wreck your shit if you ask nicely.

A/N: So yes this is fluffy Steven smut. No I cannot be stopped and no it is not a part of Red Handed.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, NSFW under the cut, softdom!Steven, sub?Reader, riding, missionary, edging, orgasm denial, squirting, breeding kink, trying for a baby, pregnancy, mention of marathon sex??? I think that’s it???

Steven Grant was a master of puzzles.

Jigsaws he solved within a matter of hours, if that. You’d long since stopped trying to keep track of his 3000-or-more-piece puzzles, always Egyptian-themed, that he’d clear a table for, finish in record time, and then break it up and put it away before reaching for the next one. 

Escape rooms? You figured when you introduced him to the random little escape room app on your phone that he’d be just as stumped as you were. Instead, ten minutes later, he asked you how he gets to the next world. “Steven,” You breathed in astonishment. “You… You beat the fucking game?!” I think it’s a given to say that he’d also completely owned your consoles when you showed him puzzle-based games like Skyrim or Zelda.

Jenga, Ka-Plunk, DnD, hell, even Clue, he blew your mind with how quickly puzzles were solved by his hands. Incomprehensible, astounding, holy fucking shit your boyfriend is a genius. 

Specifically, one of them in particular.

His Rubik’s cube.

The way he moved those goddamn fingers, those fingers that he could bend and flick and curl expertly against you and in you when you needed him too. Those hands alone could make you see stars if he was really intent on doing so.

He hated it when he had to use both hands for the Rubik’s cube. So he oiled it, ensuring that it flipped and moved with the smallest of touches, one-handed. Shk, shk, shk, he’d already solved it twice while you were watching, restarting the process when you asked him that one simple question. “Just one more time, love. Three times, then I’m all yours, yeah?” His soft voice was deeper, huskier, a little out-of-focus because of how deeply he was concentrating– not that you could tell he was. He looked calm, serene… but calculating. Deep in thought.

You were the puzzle this time.

“S-Steven, please–”

“Just a little bit longer, love.” He tossed the cube up in the air in front of your face, just being a showoff at this point. 

Two weeks ago, you’d started talking about raising a family together. At first it had just been uncertain questions, but then you’d started looking into schools nearby, making lists of baby names, adopting a healthier diet, and going to the doctor. Steven was more determined to get you pregnant than you’d expected, tracking your cycles and ovulation periods– hence why he’d made you take a week off work. He’d seemed a bit nervous when he admitted that he called in for you. “Well, love… you’re ovulating now, yeah? I figured now’s a better time than any to–” You’d never heard the end of that sentence, having immediately dragged him to the bed.

 But now there wasn’t an equal flow, like there usually was.

“Don’t cum until I say you can, dove. You can do that, yeah? Can you be a good girl for me?”

He’d laid back, helping you straddle his lap and sink down on his thick cock; it was then you’d realized that he hadn’t cum earlier, that he was holding off, maybe hoping an extremely powerful orgasm might be what it takes to knock you up. You were a puzzle he needed to solve, so like always when he focused intensely, you didn’t even begin to understand what he might be thinking. 

He hadn’t thrust up into you, although he had allowed you to roll your hips, bounce on his length, do whatever you want at whatever pace you wanted– there were only three rules. You couldn’t touch yourself, you couldn’t cum, and you had to keep your hands on his stomach so he knew you weren’t cheating in your blissed-out state.

Slowly, his dark chocolate eyes trailed from the Rubik’s cube to your red, sweaty face. “S-Steven… Please, please…” 

You found it. Right there. That spot where you can easily drive to your ecstasy. Maybe Steven won’t notice if you cum. Maybe he’ll let it slide. But he knew your body better than you did, and when you started to speed up the rocking of your hips, Steven’s free hand flew to your waist, effectively stopping your impending orgasm. “Steeeevvennn,” You whined, reduced to a blubbering mess of begging to barter for your release. Your approaching euphoria was ripped from you, descending rapidly into a cold pit of roiling tension in your lower belly. 

Steven’s hand crawled up your side, brushing painfully close to your breast without touching it and running up the length of your neck. He stopped at your mouth, fingers expertly running over your top and bottom lip gently. “Sh, dove,” He said, all but absentminded as you tried to fuck yourself without fucking yourself on him, “Almost there.”

He slipped his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck on them. You swirled your tongue and bobbed your head, using the same movements as you would when sucking him off, but aside from briefly glancing to your face, he gave no reaction to indicate that it was turning him on at all. His cock barely twitched inside you, and you weren’t entirely certain if he just had that good self-control, or if you’d gone numb from the waist down from fucking like rabbits all day in any position and location possible in your flat.

Finally– finally– he removed his fingers and twisted to toss the Rubik’s cube onto the nightstand, unintentionally shifting himself deeper inside of you, if possible, and eliciting a moan from you; yep, you could still definitely feel everything down there. If anything, you were over-sensitive, rather than under. He stared up at you with admiration and a small smile, massaging your thighs. “You did so well for me, dove. You ready to cum?”

If it were only possible, you would have cum right then. “Yes, please yes!” Maybe in the morning you’d be a little embarrassed about how easily you begged, and so quickly, too– but you had little time to think about it. Effortlessly, Steven rolled you both over so that he was on top, between your legs and still buried deep inside you– maybe even deeper, oh god, you can’t take it–

Steven’s gentle kiss on your forehead was nothing compared to the sheer intensity of how hard he pistoned his hips into you, the head of his cock bumping your cervix and almost making you scream. “Let it out, darling,” Steven urged, “I like to hear you. Please, love?” He punctuated the question with an open-mouthed, heavy kiss on your pulse point right under your jaw, and this time you didn’t hold back. Your wail of pleasure drowned out his soft moans and gasps as he panted for air. Sweat glistened silver on his tawny skin, dripping from his nose, his hair, the chain necklace he wore– gently, you tugged on it, and Steven’s hands flew to yours. He entwined your fingers together before pinning them on either side of your head, driving deeper, faster, harder, until you can’t breathe, you can’t see, there’s only Steven, who kisses you passionately as his thrusts falter. “You can cum now darling,” He breathed into your mouth, moaning as you screamed his name loudly enough to hurt your throat. You soaked the bed, him, hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole flat was soaked. You’d never squirted before with him, and you wondered if it was what he’d been planning for. 

Steven came with a cry, finishing as deep as he possibly could– a part of you thought he must have shot himself directly into your womb. He let go of your hands, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck as he held you close, trying to catch his breath. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, wincing as his hips rocked of their own accord in the aftershocks of his high. “Can you keep it all in for me when I pull out, dove? We’ve gotta make sure every drop has a chance, darling, every drop.” His hand rested pointedly on your stomach, making you smile and nod frantically.

When you shivered, he immediately reached for a nearby blanket, carefully pulling out of you and ensuring you were warm enough before moving away. When he came back, he very gently cleaned you up before moving you to a hot bath, letting you lay there while he changed the sheets. Before you could even think of moving from the tub, Steven returned carrying his comfiest hoodie and sweatpants he knew you liked to wear, along with a snack oh-so-typical of Steven. 

“Are those… cookies?”

“Oatmeal cookies,” He specified, sitting on the edge of the tub and carefully handing you your plate. “With raisins. Better for you and the baby, innit?”

You flushed up to your hairline, touched by the gesture. “Honey, we don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet.”

“You will be,” Steven said excitedly, setting the milk (yes, he even brought you milk) on the sink so that he could kneel on the outside of the tub, staring at you fondly with his chin resting on the edge. He caressed your face, smiling when you leaned into him to press your foreheads together. “We’re gonna get you pregnant this week, love, I can feel it.” He kissed you softly, before his face contorted thoughtfully as he pulled slowly away.

“Steven?”

“Orange juice,” He said, abruptly standing.

“Huh?!”

He grabbed the glass of milk on his way out of the bathroom. “Orange juice is better than milk, right? Or, maybe not? Maybe they’re equal? You wouldn’t want them at once, love, so; orange juice, yeah, and a banana? I’ll just drink the milk then, don’t wanna waste it, and I’m not sure if I could pour it back into the container without makin’ a bloody mess…”

You listened to his rambling move about the flat as you nibbled on your cookies, smiling to yourself. You and Steven wanted this baby more than anything; and you wanted it even more since Marc and Jake were both scared but excited at the prospect. You looked at baby clothes together, you had everything planned out, and now you were finally, actually trying without any kind of protection to conceive.

Steven may have planned the week, but they were all so sweet, so supportive, so protective, ensuring that you eat right, drink right, sleep right, rest, bathe– 

–and you loved them with all your heart.

The next morning, when you were making the bed, you found his Rubik’s cube half-finished on the nightstand. A smile made its way onto your face as you realized he’d never completed the puzzle last night in favor of completing you.

A couple weeks later, when you and Steven read the positive results of the pregnancy test, you realize, amidst all the cheering and hugging and crying, that with all of his planning, trying to get you pregnant was yet another puzzle he had solved, effortlessly.

With the help of Marc and Jake, of course.

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading! :3

Tags: @dameronsknight @sylkisdagger @atzlena @gucciboots @pastel-0-princess @poeticsorcery @rosaren2498 @love-on-the-murder-scene @wintergirlsoilder2 @blackcat-midnight-thatsme @multifandomsw @bookloverfilmoholic @khaotic-kris @hb8301 @soggumm @simonsbluee @adamcarlsenslvr @bluestuesday @magnet-girl @rosellacwrites @dweeb-central @ilymorepls @drwhofangirl1963 @loonymagizoologist @auszimbo @tealrivers @laters-gators12 @izbelross @xcatnapsx @child-of-the-moon-gods @djarinsgirl27 @sokoviansorceress @eerievixen @cold-buffet-ham @upbeat-cascade @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @candydancey @rqmanoff @jakelcckley @sharin4readers @lovely-cryptid @marc-spectorr @rmoonstoner @oscarisaacsspit @marc-spectorr @lovely-cryptid

GET BACK HERE

SUCCESSION (2018-2023) S3 E3 / CHALLENGERS (2024) / ARCANE (2021-2024) S2 E1

Jayce Talis x Mel Medarda

characters with the same energy

flipped off God and walked backwards into hell

carved out of stone

joel miller x fem!reader

Premise: The way you fuck is a reflection of the world around you — rough and hard. Joel is determined to show you what it means to be gentle.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: descriptions of rough sex, biting, bruises, penetrative (p in v), oral (f receiving), passionate sex, lots of emotion, creampie

The way you fuck is a reflection of the world around you. 

Hard, rough, and chaotic.

Whatever the world took from you, it returned with cruelty. There isn’t any softness left, at least not enough to stamp out the desolation. Gentleness is a reckless act when the world is set to kill. It’s a wild risk, one you aren’t willing to take.

Joel can't blame you. He isn’t exactly preaching peace and love, but you…

You grind against him hard enough to make him flinch, dig your nails into his back until you draw blood, you suck until pools of broken blood vessels litter his neck and chest. Whether you’re on your knees with your ass in the air or taunting him until he shoves you against a wall, you’re always searching for more.

Faster, sharper, rougher. 

He gets it. He doesn’t do kind, but sometimes he can’t tell if the noises coming out of you are from pleasure or pain. He doesn’t want to hurt you either — he may be tough, but he isn’t cruel — but you never tell him to stop. You demand it. More shoves, more thrusts, more bruises. It’s the only way you seem to be satisfied.

It's easy for him to get dragged into your ruthless wake. You push and jab at his cold exterior until he responds with his own snarls, fucking you with as much catastrophe as 2003. It’s been so long since Joel let himself get wrapped up in another person’s body like this, and truth be told, he needs it just as much as you need it.

It takes him a month of bruising touches and slapping skin to realize that maybe this is the only way you know how to do it. 

You are fury and power presenting as flashing eyes and tight muscles. Any time he tries to go slow or be gentle — shit, not even gentle just light enough to not require a first aid kit — you look at him like he’s speaking another language. It's the same look you gave him at Bill and Frank’s house.

“Leave it alone.”

The piano lid slams down in a shriek of out-of-tune keys. You whirl around, eyes wide and mouth open like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Good. He saw the way you were eyeing the piano when you arrived.

You huff, placing your hands on your hips. “Why? It’s not like they’re going to use it.”

“No.”

If this were a cartoon, there would be a rising red line washing over you with flashing warning lights around you. Your annoyance is building. Pressing your lips into a tight line, you try to reason with him. “The strings are steel and copper. High quality too. We could use them.”

He knows you’re right. Raiders will eventually break through the gates and strip the house of all its worth. It's only a matter of time, but he'll be damned if it happens on his watch. Not here. Not this home.

"No."

Your nostrils flare, teeth grinding as you grit out, "It's gonna happen any— "

“It's not up for debate. Go shower and stay the fuck away from that piano."

It's not that you're unnecessarily cruel or heartless. You have a heart, it's just carved out of stone. The Cordyceps buried you in a steel wool blanket, swaddled you until you found comfort in pain. This started as way for both of you to thread anger and loneliness into satisfying primal needs. Gentleness was never included.

When he leans in to trail soft kisses down your neck, you retaliate with a snarl and shove. If he tries to hold you close, you claw at his back like a cornered animal.

It isn't until one night in Jackson when the chance at something less intense presents itself. He has you pinned to the mattress, his hips digging into your own as he traps your arms to your side. He doesn't say anything, only watches you from above and wonders...

His silence makes you hiss, “What?”

Remaining silent, he leans down to nudge the tip of his nose against yours in forewarning. Maybe you'll get the hint. He gets as close as resting his lips against yours before you bare your teeth.

“No,” He grunts, pushing away. “No biting.”

You roll your eyes, but comply. This is a game you’ve played before. Joel tries to be sweet, kiss you, caress you, make you feel all lovey dovey until his patience dries up and he fucks you against the nearest surface. 

Only this time your wary look doesn't deter him. He risks moving a hand up to trace your bottom lip, a delicate touch you barely register through your haze of lust.

“What are you—?” You trail off as he presses his lips to the side of your mouth. Your shallow breathes tickle his ear, your body stiff under his mouth. He kisses you again, following the line of your jaw until he stops at the sensitive spot under your ear.

“Do you trust me?” He murmurs, lips hovering over your ear as you let out a frustrated huff of breath.

“Yeah, but what the fuck…” The slow, deliberate press of lips inching down your neck flusters you. They feel so...kind. Like liquid sunlight seeping into your pores. The only roughness is from his stubble and chapped lips.

He stops when he sees the constellation of discoloration and bite marks littering your skin. They’re taunting him, laughing at his attempt at softness. He retaliates with a long, slow lick. 

“Joel,” His name comes out a whisper of a breath this time. When he pulls away to meet your gaze, your expression is one of confusion. His gentleness leaves you entirely unprepared. You shouldn't be relaxing like this.

“S’okay,” His thumb traces the hollow bags underneath your eyes. “D’you want me to let up?”

Your brows wrinkle as if it’s a trick question. The tips of his fingers continue to stroke your cheek. Your answer is a snort of frustration, paired with a forceful twist of your body as you glare something nasty at him. “I want you to fuck me.”

“I will. We’ll get there."

The joint in your temple bulges against his palm, "Then hurry up.”

"Yes ma'am." He mutters, not wasting a moment to lean down. You two often end up closer to chewing than kissing, but now it's slower. No bites, no blood, no clanking teeth. Your lips move tentatively against his as if you’re learning how to do it all over again. It's hot and slow, his stubble scratching against your cheek as you start to feel less like a steel cable ready to snap.

Good. That's good.

Joel takes your relaxing muscles as a sign to lift his weight off of you. Readjusting, he presses his mouth to the space between your breasts to be rewarded with a tiny, high moan that makes you shudder.

“You’re shaking,” He whispers. “D’you wanna stop?”

You shake your head no, eyes shut with your lips parted for raw breathing sounds to escape. 

“Hey. Look at me, baby," He's expecting it to take more for you to open your eyes, but they shoot open almost immediately like you've been electrocuted.

“‘Y gotta use your words. Do you want me to stop?”

“No. Keep going. It’s just…different.”

“I know, but I won’t hurt you. Promise.”

You nod an okay before he kisses the space between your breasts one final time before moving on to nuzzle your breast, his hot breath fanning over your nipple. It grants him a little moan from you and, fuck, he wants to hear that again. He wants to find all your tender spots hidden between the steel and fire.

You straight up whimper when his mouth closes over a nipple with a wet press of lips and a teasing tongue. As he starts to suck, his arms shift so he is closer to holding you than pinning you down. He's slow, leaving open the opportunity for you to pull his hand away as his hands skim your sides, following the curves of your thighs before settling along the softness of your belly.

But you never do, not even when his fingers brush along the waistband of your underwear.

“Can I taste you?” He’s tentative, attempting to keep his breathing even despite his cock getting distractingly hard. 

“Y—Yeah. Want your mouth on me.”

“Okay, I’ve got you.”

He takes his goddamn time, too, starting another wet trail of kisses down your stomach, his hands massaging the warm skin of your thighs, coaxing them open for him. You comply, but not without trying to push your cunt towards his face. He pushes down on your hips, keeping them flush against the bed.

“Stay still.”

If it were like any other night you would have pulled him by the hair down to your cunt. But tonight isn’t another blazing fire of barred teeth and bruising touches. You concede, lifting your hips to help him slide your underwear off as a show of good faith.

“You…Joel…” You can’t hold onto his name, it keeps darting away as he settles between your legs. Using his hands to spread you wide open, he dips down so he is close enough to smell your wetness, but far enough away that he can still hold your gaze.

You’ve seen men look at you with awe, with terror, and some with a kind of possessiveness that has you reaching for a weapon, but never the way Joel is looking at you now. He’s studying you, like he can’t quite understand how he’s earned your trust.

“You’re so—” He begins slow and slurring because he can't find the right words to say.

“What?” It comes out a challenge, if only because you don’t know what to do with the way he’s looking at you. It’s unsettling, something new. You hope he looks at you like that again. 

The bite in your voice makes him smile. He shakes his head, letting the scratch of his beard rub against the inside of your thigh before running a hot drag of his tongue against your cunt. 

You moan louder than expected, embarrassment making you snap your eyes shut. He builds you up slowly, his tongue finding spots the send shocks of pleasure through you, keeping you on edge as you open yourself up to him. He wants you to melt for him, drip like warm honey. No more of this shattering to a million pieces bullshit, he wants you to know how else it can feel.

And the sound you make when his finger nudges into your wetness —

Fuck.

He’s made you come plenty of times while buried inside of you, but there’s something about watching you fall apart with his mouth on your cunt that is just unbearably hot. He can feel his cock leaking a small puddle of precum on the sheets.

“I’m so close,” You whine his name, eyes shut so tightly he’s worried you’ll never open them again.

“C’mon, baby. Open your eyes. Let me see you.” He whispers, the caress of his fingers as tender as his voice. He’s desperate, adding another finger to coax you to look at him.

When you do, you look completely disarmed as you pant.

“What do you need, baby?” He coos your name, his words punctuated by the wet sounds of his moving fingers. “'Y want me to stop?”

“Don't you fucking dare, Miller.”

He returns to wrap his lips around your clit. He sucks tenderly, intimately, a contrast to the bitterness around you. This time you don’t shut your eyes, you watch him with as much conviction as he is watching you.

When you come, it's a gasp that swallows you up from the inside before it has a chance to escape. His eyes never leave your face, watching as your lips tremble in silence as your cunt grinds against his face.

His face is a mess too when he comes up, pressing his body against yours until his hard cock is leaking against your bellies. He is half expecting you to knock him on his back and climb on top, pin his arms to his sides as retribution for his little stunt.

But you surprise him when you curl around him, pushing your head up to find his lips. There is something weirdly hot about your wetness smearing and transferring from his beard to your chin only for Joel to dip down and lick your face clean. Or maybe it's the way you seek comfort in his embrace. It's hard for him to tell with how hard he is. He's sure he'll come on your stomach any second when you’re breathing, “Get inside me,” between kisses.

“We don’t have to,” His words clipped, his attention focused on not blowing his load. 

“Now, Joel!” You groan, desperate and bratty as you wrap your legs around his hips.

“Not gonna last long,” A weak argument when he's reaching between you to grab his cock.

“Don’t care. I need you." You breathe. Plead.

For a heartbeat, he stills, giving you the chance to back out even as you reach down to his hand, your knuckles bumping as you guide him to run his cock along your slit.

“D’you really want this?” It's his turn to sound bewildered, a silent question in his words that makes the air heavy: can I show you softness?

"Yes," You reply, shifting when you feel the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. Your hand lets go of his, moving it up to wrap around his neck. "I want you."

His gaze keeps hold of yours with an intensity you can practically taste as he pushes in. You moan at the steady rock of his hips, each thrust bringing him a little deeper until he’s bottomed out inside you.

This is...new.

Slow and tender, it leaves you exposed to his adoration. You hide away into his neck, his heartbeat thumping against your ear as he reels his hips back, pulling out until only the head of his cock remains before burying himself back in one fluid thrust. Heat rises through your body, warming you up until you're melting. Your hands wrap around him tightly, scared you'll melt right through the mattress.

"Good. You're doing so good for me."

This is the first time you truly feel each other. It isn't some ambiguous tight pressure; you actually feel every vein of his cock pushing against your heat. Again and again, he rocks inside of you like there is nothing else left but you.

"Tell me," He grunts, his Adam's apple bobbing against your temple, "Tell me how it feels."

"F—feels so fucking good — oh, fuck — I need to—" Your words slip off your tongue, dissolving on his warm body. Struggling, you instead pull him forward until your lips are slotted against his. It's not even a kiss, just lips pressed against one another. Connected.

For as unnerving as this is, you don't want it to stop.

Joel’s throaty voice crooning the sweetest words, him thrusting until pleasure grows alongside blooming release. You want to freeze this moment in time, put it into one of those little snow globes you collected as a kid, save it forever.

You don’t expect to come again, but then his thumb presses down on your oversensitive clit until everything builds back up again.

"Give me one more. C'mon, baby, squeeze me. Come for me."

It isn't long until the jagged hot climax sparks up your spine, your muscles clenching down around him as you cry out his name. You’re still simmering in the afterglow, your blood boiling like you're laying on top of a bed of embers. Joel finds his own release soon after, your name heavy in his mouth as his cock throbs sticky pulses of cum inside you.

Using his last bit of energy, he pulls you on top of him as he falls back onto the bed, his softening cock is still buried inside your cunt. He's not young anymore, he's not about the get hard again but he still stays buried inside of you, if only to feel closer to you.

Your face is still pressed against the side of his neck when he feels an odd wetness there. He's about to mumble your name when your next breath is a shaky sob. You try to control it, hold your breath only to hiccup from the pressure in your throat.

"Shit, sorry," You choke, tears smearing against his neck. "Don't know why—"

"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed —"

"No," You cry out, your hands gripping his arms hard. "It's not that. I liked it, I'm just...Fuck..."

"S' okay. I got you." He nods, his arms heavy as he holds you closer to him.

You’re digging your nails into his arms again, but this time he doesn’t mind. 

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider telling me with a reblog and comment. It means the world to writers and helps us share our work on here 💚

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 ✶

Gulity Pleasure ✶

Death of Me ✶

Can’t Help It ✶

Fantasy ✶

My Love ✶

Do it Again ✶

Sugar ✶

Introverted ✶

Pretty Boy ✶

Jealousy ✶

Down In It ✶

Crazy Over You ✶

Satisfying ✶

The Boy Next Door ✶

First Time for Everything ✶

Hypnotized ✶

Talk to Me ✶

Accidents happen ✶

Get Your Way ✶

Ribbon

You can have it ✶

bestie duo

pre-calc teacher: in order to figure out whether or not a graph has continuity you need to ride the graph

pre-calc teacher: *traces graph with finger on projector*

ENFP: *looks at INTJ*

ENFP: ill ride ur graph ;)

INTJ: hot