#this is sooo cute🩷🩷

[allmyandroids]

Raymond Reddington

Season 7 Episode 3 - Les Fleurs Du Mal

[aiscapades]

i can't believe i'm doing this instead of sleeping

[thyming]

Eepy. 💭

[wifeiy]

HAIKYUU!!!! And My Kitties

[lovaboy]

new mario and luigi rpg ???????

[sevicia]

omg is your icon horropedia reverse1999... looking

YES!!!!!! I'm kinda obsessed w/ him atm he's just so funny and I want to put him in a hamster ball 😭

[gurorori]

wearin' a push up bra is so funny yay i have semblance of a boob.. n_nb

[linolinoing]

omg i'm just getting in here after days but happy belated birthday tammy!! i hope you had the loveliest day 💖💖

thank youuu lau!!! i really did 💖💛💖

[ahogechef]

"I got somethin' for you. Or I guess it's kinda for both you and Daifuku. I just... thought they might be somethin' you'd like for him." *the normally brash biker looks quite bashful as he glances to the side while holding up a medium sized present. the wrapping leaves a lot to be desired, and the bow on top looks like it can come completely undone with just the smallest tug*

*however, despite the rough exterior, inside is a box that contains... various puppy costumes?! all of them appear to be just the right size for the fluffy samoyed, some of the outfits included are: a cute santa with a matching hat, coat, and boots, a 'scary' pumpkin outfit, and a chef outfit that has a tall hat and an apron with a plush spatula sticking out of it!!*

"You're always talkin' about how cute Daifuku is, so I thought you'd you'd like these. You know... make him all fashionable. I bet he'd make everyone else at the dog park jealous when they see him wearin' so many different outfits."

"And I know it's tiny compared to the outfits, but make sure you see what's at the bottom of the box, okay?" *and indeed just below the final outfit is a small, handmade, wooden dog tag with an engraving of daifuku's name!*

"Even if Daifuku goes all wild, I know you'll take care of both him and his gifts. He's a good pup and he's lucky to have someone like you watchin' over him." *mondo gives a quiet huff before reaching up to ruffle the birthday girl's hair, a small but genuinely happy smile on his face!*

"Happy birthday, Kaede. Let's make sure this year is even more excitin' than the last one."

{ KAEDAY!!! 🍱🎉🎊}

"Ohhh!!! For me and Daifuku?! Hehe, Mondooo, you're so sweet~! It always makes me so happy when you think of my fluffy boy when giving me things, too..." She giggles as she happily takes the gift! Even if it didn't look perfectly wrapped, that's fine! She didn't care to be that strict; it was the present inside that matters most, after all! As she looks inside, she gasps when seeing the different puppy costumes!! "Uwaaaah!!! Oh these are sooo cute!! A lil santa outfit and a scary pumpkin one!! Hehe and a chef one with a cute lil spatula!! Oh you bet I love these! I'm gonna put him in all of these and take lots of pics! Maybe even try finding some own costumes of mine to match right with him, hehehe~! I'll definitely send you pics, too!"

"Ahaha, he'll look super adorable in it!! I just know he'll be the star of the dog park for sure~!" She laughs, looking all the more eager to take him there soon! She's sure all the dogs and owners will love the outfits she'll match with him in! Then when Mondo mentions to look at the bottom of the box- "!" She nods her head and does just that. Seeing that it's a dog tag with his name on it, she emits a happy gasp~

"Ahhh~! Oh my god...this is such a nice tag.... it's even got on his name on it!! I have been thinking I'd love to get him a nice lil dog tag, sometime...hehe, you know me so well, Mondo! Oh he will be so ecstatic to see this and the costumes! Absolutely.... I promise I will take great care of and cherish his gifts, just like I always do him..." She giggles softly at the hair ruffles before smiling warmly at him.. "Thank you so much... I'm so happy you think so. I always wanna be the best mama I can be for him."

Then she'll proceed to wrap her arms around him in a big hug, nuzzling her face slightly into his chest before looking up at him with a beaming smile~! "That's right~! We'll make sure of it!! Thank you so much again, Mondo!! For such wonderful gifts for me and my boy! You today even better for me.... I can't wait to have another fun and exciting year with you and everyone else!!"

[heirloommtomatoes]

felt truly present for the first time in a looooong time today 💞

[allmyandroids]

MY FAVOURITE RED SCENE EVER POOKIE IS THE BEST FRIEND YOU CAN HAVE🥹💖 DEMBE IS SOO LUCKY ✨️

Super wholesome those two 💕

[starlit-sanguine]

AW BUDDY and I spray a comically big hose on you

Ita insert heh... big fan.. leans on wall and falls over into mud ow ow owww

[mariasont]

JUST THE TIP(S) - A.H

aaron learns the hard way that upping your maintenance allowance has unexpected, explicit perks. especially when you insist on showcasing your newest investment while he's stuck miles away.

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexting, nsfw imagery, exhibitionism? (in the form of pictures), references to masturbation, workplace inappropriateness, power dyanmics (boss/employee), dirty talk, sugar daddy hotch vibes wc: 1.7k request: here!

Hotch attempts to read the file in front of him again, just to keep himself busy, but it starts to resemble gibberish somewhere between the countless victim timelines and his unwavering staring contest with the phone screen. 

Nothing. Still nothing. 

It’s been, he glances down for confirmation, thirty-nine minutes since he hit send. Not exactly long enough to panic. Yet here he is, panicking, because your replies normally land instantly, punctuated with frantic emojis, a parade of exclamation points, and nonsensical crises like:

i just made toast and almost caught my sleeve on fire but it’s ok now !!!! 🤭

So, yeah. Thirty-nine minutes feels like a small eternity.

Last week, he had upped your spending limit. You murmured something vague about having a bad day. You didn’t supply any specifics, no dramatics, just an innocent observation that he instantly took as an urgent call to action.

He logged into your account and adjusted your monthly extras, expanding that little safety net you didn’t even know he color-coded as you-time on his accounting spreadsheet. 

It wasn’t even remotely about the actual money. How could it be, when you were always giving pieces of yourself away — filling his silence with your easy chatter, kissing his frown lines, leaving perfume on his pillow (and everywhere else). So if a few extra hundred dollars meant more wellness appointments or a couple frivolous purchases that could help you feel more like yourself, it was the easiest, most obvious choice in the world. 

This is what he attributed your lack of response to. You’re probably out using that buffer right now.

He doesn’t need to spiral.

But he does anyway. Because when he’s not around, you have a tendency to forget to hydrate, to neglect to eat anything remotely nutritious, to lose yourself in shiny distractions, and his mind, unfortunately, never seems to shut off where you’re concerned.

He digs the heel of his hand into his forehead, trying not to jump to worst-case scenarios. He’s not clingy. Definitely not the kind of boyfriend who sends another text after less than an hour. 

Still, he nudges his phone a bit closer, strictly precautionary.

It takes exactly fifteen more agonizing, anxiety-inducing minutes — minutes shaped like big neon question marks — before the phone finally buzzes.

You: hi bossman !! miss ur grumpy face sooooo bad it’s criminal (arrest me??) how’s the case?

He exhales through his nose. His first thought is to correct you, to say that he’s definitely not grumpy, but his fingers pause, and he erases it instead. 

He is grumpy, though he’s fairly certain it’s directly correlated with how long it’s been since he’s since your face.

Hotch: Miss you too. Case is fine. Hopefully wrapping soon. Should be home late tomorrow. What did you do today? Everything okay?

You: yay !! can’t wait to see u ! got my nails done 🩷 they’re sparkly pink and sooo cute wanna see?

He snorts once, rubbing his thumb over the edge of his phone.

Hotch: Somehow I already know exactly what they look like.

He pauses, considers, then quickly adds,

Hotch: Send them anyway.

Hotch expects something wholesome, mundane even, manicure displayed prettily around a cup of overpriced coffee (a staple for you) or maybe the steering wheel of your car. 

What he receives instead is categorically, devastatingly the antithesis of wholesome. Completely unfit for polite company. His phone nearly plummets to the floor accordingly, eyebrows already halfway to his hairline.

Your new nails, as glittery as you advertised and innocent enough in isolation, become fully obscene in context, pussy spread wide, your fingertips highlighting slick, swollen folds and a flushed, glistening clit practically begging for attention. 

Hotch has always considered you beautiful — insanely, impossibly so — but this vision of you. A vision where you’re open, soaked with a brazen sweetness that borders on indecent, surpasses beauty entirely.

It’s sinful, artful perfection crafted with the sole intent of his demise. No matter how quickly he closes his eyes, the image is now seared permanently into his brain, burnt onto his retinas in dripping pixels.

Hotch never could fathom why anyone would willingly risk sending something so compromising. It spat in the face of good judgment and flagrantly ignored every articulated piece of advice he’d ever given. He’d lectured until your eyes glazed over about internet safety, how every text you send is stored indefinitely in some obscure digital archive, potentially retrieved at the most inopportune times. 

He was certain, perhaps arrogantly so, that you’d internalized his paranoia.

How wrong he had been.

Because he now stands staring at the evidence of your rebellion, humbly acknowledging that he himself has become precisely the sort of fool he’d warned you about, happily entrapped by the irreverence of a single photograph.

The only genuine risk Aaron can currently recognize is the frankly painful strain of his cock pressing against his zipper and the fact that you’re hundreds of miles away. 

He draws in a sharp, shaky breath through gritted teeth, silently pleading with unapologetically indifferent cosmos to grant him patience. 

Or teleportation.

Hotch: Gorgeous nails, sweetheart. Clever use of your resources, though next time save me the torture and just show me in person.

You: glad u like them 😇😇 maybe consider it motivation to hurry home faster?

Hotch: Duly noted. If I close this case in record time, you’ll know exactly why.

You: i can always send additional inspiration if it helps your productivity 🥰

He doesn’t remember making the conscious decision, and frankly, he doesn’t care enough to second-guess it now, because his palm is already moving, instinctively pressing down to relieve the unbearable tension straining his trousers.

He’s halfway through typing out his surrender (a blunt, undignified Yes. Now.) when a sudden, sharp knock jerks him brusquely back into a reality that pales considerably compared to what he’s just been forced to abandon.

His thumb stalls above the send button then pockets the phone, exhaling through his nose as he smooths the front of his tie with a touch more vigor than necessary.

If he were honest, and lately honesty seems unavoidable, another second spent alone with your message would inevitably lead him to doing something highly inappropriate beneath the desk, your name hissed quietly against clenched teeth.

By the time he reaches the door, Hotch has resigned a reasonable facsimile of composure.

At least from the waist up.

He cracks the door open cautiously, standing at an awkward, stiff angle, hoping that Rossi won’t notice the disarray happening beneath his belt.

“Local PD's still caught up arguing procedural technicalities,” Rossi drawls, seemingly unaware. “Apparently, nothing moves forward without our explicit approval.”

You’ll have to wait. And so will his dick.

The so-called procedural technicalities take three hours. Three. hours. One hundred and eighty increasingly insufferable minutes drowning in bureaucratic drudgery, combing through details Hotch is positive he could recite while heavily medicated. He pinches the bridge of his nose, attempting to fend off the migraine steadily encroaching.

He’d managed the polite, dutiful thing — a succinct, thoroughly unsatisfying reply to you about responsibility and paperwork, the kind of message that made his own eyes roll at its dreariness compared to your far more compelling offer.

And now, each monotonous signature is underscored by thoughts of you, each image progressively more not-safe-for-work than the last.

He pictures your nails, painted in that damned color you loved so much, wrapping firmly around his cock, stroking with leisurely hands. How good it would feel. How you would lean closer with thay look in your eyes, lips parted, whispering filthy words that would make the tips of his ears bleed red.

He loved spoiling you, sure, but secretly, selfishly, he knew the real reward came later, when your fingertips traced up and down each vein of his length.

His daydream splinters to pieces as another officer delivers a statement so inane, Hotch considers, with alarming sincerity, the merits of repeatedly banging his head against the wall.

Before he can fully commit to a public crisis of faith in his career choices, his phone vibrates in his pocket.

Stupidly, he sneaks a quick look,

You: bet that paperwork has you wound up tight. when u get home, feel free to fuck out all that frustration. im yours however u want me <3

Hotch snaps his phone off with such force he’s briefly amazed the device doesn’t shatter.

He redirects his gaze at the neat rows of law enforcement jargon before him, willing the flush spreading from his neck to his ears to retreat. He’s knows he’s past the age of blushing fits, but apparently, you delight in reminding him otherwise.

Hotch’s eyes briefly skim the room, double-checking that the rest of his team is sufficiently absorbed in their tasks.

Hotch: I sincerely hope you’re prepared to stand by that offer, he sends back, thumb tapping a bit faster. Because I fully intend to take advantage of your generosity. 

The familiar little bubbles of an incoming message appear almost immediately, punctuated seconds later by the ping of an attachment.

Hotch reopens the thread, only to be met with an image of your pretty hands cupping even prettier breasts.

Suddenly, he’s standing, brisk strides carrying him toward the hallway, a curt, excuse me tossed hastily behind him, already pressing your contact photo before the door swings fully shut behind him.

You answer on the first ring. “Hi there, handsome. Calling to check on me?”

Your voice, dripping with honeyed naivety, and the image of your tits still pulsing insistently behind his eyelids, sends an immediate rush of heat southward.

Hotch grits his teeth, resisting the temptation to flee toward the bathroom for a quick release.

“Do you really think you’re being fair to me? While I’m stuck here, of all places?”

“Fairness is subjective. Personally, I think it’s unfair you’re so far away when I clearly need your expert opinion on this manicure.”

“Expert opinions are usually best delivered in person. Very hands-on.”

Your giggle spills through the line, and Hotch is convinced it should be bottled and sold as medicine. How he managed to win the privilege of hearing it on demand is an eternal mystery.

“Aaron Hotchner,” you whisper, “is this how you typically behave at the office, or am I getting special treatment today?”

“You’re permanently on the receiving end of special treatment.”

Another giggle.

“Well, I fully intend to cash in on that privilege when you get home, and I advise your neighbors to consider getting some top-quality earplugs.”

He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to mask the fidgeting as purposeful adjustment. Unsuccessfully, of course. He can feel Morgan’s stare burning pointedly into the side of his head. Honestly, if roles were reversed, Aaron would probably be offering equally unsubtle judgment.

“Sweetheart,” he warns, lowering his voice, “you’re making it exceedingly difficult to pretend this call is work-related.”

“Fine, fine,” you say. “Go play nice with your friends and come home safely. I miss you.”

“I’ll be there as soon as humanly possible.” He inwardly rolls his eyes at his inability to maintain any credible authority with you. “Try to stay out of trouble until then.”

“No promises.” He can picture the smile on your face. “But I’ll do my best to keep your investment safe, these nails weren’t cheap, after all.”

“Careful. Because when I get home, I won’t be gentle enough to guarantee their safety.”

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[panda-001]

.

[soratonin]

for jjk the only real brainrot i had was for nobara back in 2022. that woman consumed me for a whole year i was having a blast writing mean and beautiful yuri sex with her where i was like self inserting into reader completely . i have never been more Gay and In love in a year than 2022 over her i was going crazy

[imsoooodrunk]

Im sobbing right now because of how much I like your drawings............ Especially the Scout x Pyro ones..... I've never thought of them in this light but you provide BEAUTIFUL context to them I just can't 🥹🥹🥹 They are SO SWEET I absolutely love how Scout adores pyro being cute and innocent and wants to be closer because HELL YEAH!!!!!! I want them to hug sooo much I want them to feel each others warmth and to be kind to each other and and and 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Thank you for your existence I hope your 🍺 is going fine

I've received so many questions from people, and they've given me a lot of comfort. I'm planning to answer every single one of them as time allows—though it might take a really long time. After all, I can't drink every day. 🍺

But I have just one request. Please, don't send such beautiful questions anonymously.

I really want to know who you are.

Anyway, I don't know who you are, but to the person who sent this question—I love you. 🫀❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜🤎🖤🩶🤍💗💖