#they're sexy in my heart

[darrowsrising]

Darrow, when he justifies to the reader forgiving people for hurting him or abandoning him:

[meownotgood]

why are bots on chai so horny now I literally just send a message like "hi aki" and then he's like, "ugh, you want me so bad don't you? 🙄 well fine, I'll let you have me cause I'm nice. (he pushes you onto the bed and his cock is hard) come on. let's do it"

[bennymaxxing]

arguments saying Joshua is actually good or has changed by the time honest hearts starts or barely had a role in creating the legion etc. all fall flat when you find out he's literally inspired by the destroying angels and 19th century mormonism

[gideonisms]

When I see a good Gideon hand I lose it!!! the navitus is terminal

[droughtofapathy]

There's just something so lovely about seeing Bebe Neuwirth's simple elegance standing in such stark contrast to the glitz and glam of the Tonys. All the other ladies were, of course, absolutely gorgeous last night with their high fashion styling and dramatic makeup and fun colors. And then there's Bebe, doing her own thing. Just her normal light makeup routine--a little liner, some shimmer, a nice staid lipstick color--nothing different with her hair either. At 65, she's out there with her greying hair, and beautiful lines and wrinkles, and oh my, so much skin on display. Backless silky gown, arms bare, and her shoulders. What a wonder.

[punkslovepoints]

[vampires] are almost too sexy though... [x]

[bblackamethystt]

Alexa, play "Drama" by aespa

[theoogtree]

I say kpop started getting bad when Amber stopped saying "you know I got it" in every song but I think it also started getting bad when every group started using only "good" English (grammatically correct, no accent, makes sense in context, something a regular human would say)

In essence these are both the same thing because the real problem is a combination of kpop getting popular in general + therefore the companies not wanting to seem cringey and also the companies' growing awareness of the English speaking interest leading them to both fear mistakes and want to gear their groups and songs toward that market

But in doing so they have stripped away a lot of the appeal that we originally liked about kpop over our own mainstream music which is that it was weird and funky and different and fun. Who cares if the English wasn't perfect. Why would or should it be. The question should not be "does this lyric make sense" the question should be "does this lyric fuck supremely" and nine times out of ten the answer was yes

This post brought to you by B1A4 Beautiful Target

[troublcmakcrs]

//mr & mrs tweak are my favorite sicko4sicko ship

[flowerflamestars]

Robin fic snippet

“C’mere,” he murmured, rough.   Held out his arms, and it was just as easy as it had ever been. Breathing, touching Elle. His heart was beating, and so he was here with her.   Elle, who looped her arms and around his neck and pressed her face into his shoulder. “Still sorry I scared you.”   Jason was sorry he’d wasted so much fucking time.   Reeled her in by the waist in degrees, a hesitance that had nothing to do with how badly he wanted to be close to her and everything to do with her comfort. Elle fell forward with a sigh, briefly squeezing his sides with her knees before settling, sprawl easy.   “Tell me,” he said, turning to catch her eye, ignoring his own acidic, corrosive dread, “About the Pit.”   She touched his jaw. Made a gentle, featherlight line down toward his chin.   “It’s magic,” Elle whispered, like a secret, hushed, “Just magic. Not good or evil.”   Jason tried not to think about how much it had hurt. Sometimes the years strung together in one long chain- his ribs breaking, his bones cracking, his lungs seizing, his hands torn, his whole body burning from the inside out. He’d died ugly, more than once, been reborn what seemed like much the same.   “It’s something,” he told her.   Elle nodded. “The oldest magic- most powerful magic, is always simple. Lazarus is a miracle so old it predates the name. A source so potent it works even on nonmagical people.”   A miracle? No. But it had led him to miracles. Let Jason Todd live long enough to be here, arms full of magic.   “That’s why,” she let go of his face to gesture toward her own eyes. “Rituals are exchanges. You give it your death, and it gives you life. You come to it bloody, it makes you whole. You’re alive, and so it lives through you.”   Talia, with the calm she used to deliver all terrible truths, every warning, it will live through you. It will be with you, forever. Harder to regret than usual in this second- the heart of the story, the secret he told no one that never stopped being at least partially true: Jason had always wanted to live. Always wanted his life to matter, the way he’d come back to Gotham and realized it hadn’t, not in the way he thought.

[vilnan]

i think it's so interesting to play maud as a faithful inquisitor and them whole-heartedly believing maker has blessed them, because she's very anti-chantry/circle so they're just like i'm the maker's specialest little princess (gn) but i fucking hate you all and hope you die violently sjsnsjsjs

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

thinking about jensen making bryce do a little fashion show w all the new clothes he gets from his shopping trip. all of jensens commentary is completely unhelpful but at least it's entertaining

[bam-stroker]

Also gives y'all my colored sketch of Culebra so y'all can see the goth icon they are with the metal ribs/spine showing through their casing

They are greem 💚🖤

[neverendingford]

.

[forsworned]

Simon has an OnlyFans. It wasn't something he necessarily kept a secret, but it wasn't something he shouted out on the rooftops for all to hear. Just the primal need for being seen while he fisted at his cock in various poses, most of which were requested by you. You who were an avid fan of his.

You really didn't remember how you found him. Maybe you were just absentmindedly scouring the internet for anything to turn you on while you were in the middle of a solo sesh, but either way, you stumbled upon his page. You wasted no time subscribing to the skull-masked man who humbly accepted your request to use a cock ring with a little ghost charm hanging at the end of it.

And his moans—don't even get me started. They're deep, guttural, sexy, and caveman-like and you're creaming at just the mere sound of it.

Truthfully, Simon doesn't even need the money. His price range only goes as high as $5, and for his VIPs, you get exclusive access to all his behind-the-scenes features, one of which includes all the times he mistakenly shoots his cum at his chin.

But it comes off as a shocker to you when its' one of those nights where no matter how many times you make yourself cum, it's not enough. You crave him. Crave to see the way those half-lidded onyx eyes stare down at the camera as he gets off between missions for a quickie.

It's enticing. He's fully clad in his uniform, but his hard, girthy horse cock is out for display. Green veins pulsate against his porcelain skin at his touch and you're squirming at the vibrating wand you place on your clit.

Ping!

Your in-app message notification pop up and you notice the small badge on the messages icon. Thinking it was merely something promotional, you ignore it, but a second ping disrupts your solo love-making session that has you squinting down at your phone.

Curiously, you tapped on the little envelope, tilting your head at the message before tapping on it again.

TacticalHeat: Hey, lovie. How are you doing? I see you've been enjoying my content for some time now. Would you be interested in a private call?xx

Your heart thrums against your chest as your jaw drops to the floor. There was no fuckin' way this was real. It had to be some chatbot or some sort of impersonator, but sure enough you click on the icon and it leads you straight back to the page you were just rubbin one out to.

"Fuck!" You breathe out, throwing your head back as your orgasm spills out of you. You hadn't even noticed the wand still buzzing against your sopping wet pussy, but it leaves you heaving and ready for the next round.

Your fingers hover over your keyboard and you search your mind to say something. It's not like you had a picture on your profile, nor your name, or even a real description on your bio. It was merely a clipart of Snoopy with headphones on bumping to music, a practical choice.

You: I'm good! I can do maybe tomorrow night?"

For some Godforsaken reason, you didn't want to seem to eager, but for what? You literally were messaging on fucking OnlyFans.

Ping!

Your heart drops to your ass at swiftness and the contents of the message.

TacticalHeat: How about now instead?

Part two is here!! 😜

masterlist

[mariasont]

My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H

a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you’re wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it

warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy

wc: 1.3k

"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."

You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.

"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor. 

You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.

"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."

You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place. 

You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.

"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."

The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.

"Having fun talking to yourself?"

You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."

He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.

You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"

The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.

His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.

He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back. 

You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."

He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."

The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.

The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.

He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.

Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.

With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.

"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."

You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.

"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."

You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh. 

"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.

Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.

Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."

You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"

Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."

He was only half-joking.

"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.

Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.

"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"

He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."

And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna