#find our magic again
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Merlin getting his magic back has affected my disabled heart so profoundly that I must write another meta on magic being a disability parallel.
#being forced to hide who you are to appease others#people wanting to force you into hiding themselves#for you to shut up and go away and/or take their bullying#expecting you to let them persecute you and kill you willingly#yeah#i'm crying#like... oh. maybe i AM magic. maybe it WAS inside me all along. maybe i CAN find myself again.#in a different way but... maybe we can all find ourselves again#find our magic again#and learn to embrace it#bbc merlin
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you are pitting Jesus and Santa Claus against each other. I am acknowledging Santa as both a mythic symbol of Christ and a cultural legend based upon a real man whose faithfulness to Christ was used by God to grant common grace not just to the people of Myra but throughout the entire world. we are not the same.
#I know anti-Santa people who are not smug but the anti-Santa influencers are getting smugger and smugger each year#my generation was not raised to cope with loss of childhood#pro-tip: it comes back when you have your own children#I know because I get a taste of it whenever I visit my friends’ kids#mobile#x#Christmas#Christianity#history#mythology#let kids believe in magic again#you know what believing in magic did for me? trained my heart to recognize the wondrous when I see it#trained me to accept that I don’t and can’t know everything#trained me to live by the faith of adherence when i cannot enjoy the faith of assurance (Matthew Henry)#I was the only person in any of my friend groups who ever believed in Santa#and you know why I didn’t feel betrayed to find out I’d misplaced my belief? because Santa is real.#someone moves even terrible parents to give good gifts to their children on the same holy day every year#someone moves the imagination to ensure that the darkest week of the year will produce the most ethereal lights#someone moves the ancient and forgotten back into our conscious present minds#and if you’re wondering whether I’m talking about Jesus or Santa that’s a GOOD thing!#that’s the whole point!#the Santa mythos *impacts* people all over the world. and that is an act of Providence whether you believe in God or not
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I met this guy once in my government class and we were working on a project together and I was taking about mairuma and he was like 'oh I've watched that' so we started talking about it and he asked me who I thought was endgame for iruma and I told him the love trio obviously and he was very put off by that. He literally said "maybe Clara but not asmodeus because he's a guy"
My brother in christ mairuma is basically a big allegory for being queer
#It's impossible to engage with mairuma without acknowledging that it's queer#Striped of all the magical elements mairuma is about a boy with a secret where if people around him find out he will be harmed#It's about being yourself and it's about greed#Be passionate and greedy when it comes to yourself be indulgent#It's about queer acceptance#It's about queer love#It's about queer power#You can't look past that it's impossible#Mairuma#mairimashita iruma kun#That guy after we finished our project literally never talked to me again
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watching wish and asha just said 'isn't truth supposed to set you free' and i went:
more seriously i've very rarely seen 'the truth will set you free' used in a context that wasn't at least aware the phrase comes from the bible (the same way people are generally aware that 'to fly too close to the sun' comes from greek mythology)
so now i'm wondering if the people who wrote this line and put it in the movie know where it comes from and didn't care or plainly didn't know. it's just a very weird phrase to use in the context of that movie imo cause it's far less of an all purpose expression than other biblically inspired sayings.
#i'm probably not being very clear but basically i find it jarring to hear an idiom that couldn't have come to exist w/out jesus#in this loosely-defined and magical fairy-tale world#sure wish takes place in the mediterranean so we can assume it IS set in our world#that's still an acknowledgment of real life history whether intended or not#and unlike say 'to fly too close to the sun' that particular phrase has *deeply* rooted religious significance#maybe i'm completely wrong and it IS commonly used in english but i haven't come across it enough#and again never in a context where i'd assume the speaker was fully unaware of the bible being a thing#like if you hear a 21st century person say it in a fictional story or irl you understand how they came to know it#either they read it or they learnt it throught osmosis#it's reasonable to assume they would have come across it even if they're fully secular#but here who in asha's world says that truth is supposed to set you free??
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Dont be angry, Finnula said. Be smart.
#Chapter 23#Kingdom of Ash#Sarah J. Maas#Elide Lochan#Finnula#no spoilers pls first read along w me chapter spoilers in post & tags below w more annotations/quotes/notes/reacts/perspective 3 of 4#The City of Rivers… can Aelin get a City of Fire? cuz that would be cool & Elide already said “fear was another companion it can’t be worse#IT WAS LORCANS SHIRT😭 & he cared so much he lied so she’d use it from Gavriel/Rowan😭 OH ELORCAN😭😭😭#Yet this place seemed like a paradise. WHATS REAL? is it a Maeve illusion… but it sounds lovely; like Rowan could just fly around😭#Pink and blue flowers draped from windowsills; little canals wended between some of the streets ferrying people in bright long boats.#And though a good dose of fear would aid in her cover too much would spell her doom. -smart clever spy gal Annabeth Chase would be proud#And this city Rowan had told Elide had been built from stone to keep Brannon or any of his descendants from razing it to the ground.#when u know ur evil cuz you had to build in a backup plan for the day Brannons peeps eventually come to shut that shit down… my poor Aelin#Elide fought the limp that grew with each step farther into the city--farther away from Gavriel's magic… or Lorcan’s👀😭🖤🤨#okay Elide I see your mirror mirror Aos moves with the berry listen and compact trick she can do it with a broken heart#cycle. She hadn't been able to find the words anyway. Not with what it would crumple in her chest to even think them. WELL NOW IM CRUMPLED#As if she'd been weeping for weeks… yeah that fits the KoA vibes#But it wasn't the reflection she wanted to see. But rather the square behind her. — BRILLIANT QUEEN — lol thx Lorcan for having a mirror#if only anything could be a witch mirror then they could all cell chat and communicate cause the travel time in this one is rough#she was merely staring into a compact mirror no more than a self-conscious girl trying to fix her frazzled appearance — she is the best spy#A girl trying to muster some dignity. Let them see what they wanted to see-A girl far out of her element in this lovely well-dressed city#cornflower blue ALWAYS THESE SHADES#her golden-brown skin shone with an inner light. Her eyes were soft with kindness. And concern.#had always made them foolishly off guard and eager to get away. To tell her what she needed to know. — funny 2 watch Elide do this after HoF#The sort of voice Elide had always imagined great beauties possessing the sort of voice that made men fall all over themselves.#Cairn. One of the males swore; the other scanned Elide from head to toe. But the two females had gone still. — agreed he’s the worst#the portrait of hope—yeah child’s right cause no—Elide always naming people—If you escaped Cairn don't go looking for him again.—true#Cairn is blood-sworn to our queen. Still makes him a prick TRUTH — doesn’t need to be a far to catch the lie — WHERE IS SHE DAMNIT#She was about to do it again wheen… The dark-haired beauty from the tavern was standing behind her. — SHIT#Maeve was not in Doranelle. How long would that remain true? Had to make the next performance count. — how many had she done this already?🥹😭
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Revisiting the character designs I did for my barchelor thesis (part 1/3). The older version is bellow the cut. I tried to stay as close as possible to the original designs, as I still think they work very well...
Anyway, meet Peter, a silver-tongued ghost punished to work as a bartender in his after-life.
#my art#digital art#illustration#original character#original art#character design#after the midnight club#that was the tittle of my thesis#I developed three characters for an animated series pilot#peter here would be our very relutant protagonist#in a kind of slice of life/fantasy#that parodies the isekai genre#bc the idea of regular joe dies goes to magical world just to end up stuck on costumer service once again is very hysterical#even more so when this fricking guy procedes to stay completely unbothered not interested in adventure whatsoever#he only wants to find a way to get out of work and maybe get ghost-unionized
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every time I remember that we're getting animated mighty nein and I'll get to see the Circus Man and Magic Man tenderly kiss each other on the forehead I feel weak--
#theyre everything to me--#and when I get 'please dont give up. you can still find your own life again. there will be time for that later'#'empty no longer mr tealeaf.'#'i kiss him where he kissed me a long time ago'#'oh youre cute magic man--'#'this might be your first time meeting us but its our second time. stick with us.' 'we have a habit of taking in strays--'#then what??#i will be simply inconsolable--
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Abusers will emotionally neglect you, find ways to personally insult you, and purposefully trigger you but as soon as you snap suddenly they're the victim and you're actually the abuser because they're "walking on eggshells" when they were actually just beating you down as much as possible and realized you're not always gonna be submissive and you're gonna lash out from mistreatment
#tw abuse mention#thinking about my ex again. i was gonna find evidence of him abusing me in my archived screenshots#but just seeing our conversations sent me into a breakdown so it was too taxing#i remember the first time he ignored me all day and when i got upset they said i was being unreasonable#and it was my fault for not knowing he was feeling sad when he literally ignored me all day and only answered with 'ok' and acted mad at me#just for checking in every couple of hours#and till the end he clung to that claiming it was my fault#yet magically forgot all the vile things said to me and how cold they acted for no reason#idk#meffy rants#tw vent
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ah, so we are going to get pepper sprayed directly in the eyes by your henchmen.
I look forward to this novel experience.
Are tissues for our tears needed for this Sunday?
you might cry but not because of the reasons you think
#the logistical nightmare of sending stage crew to viewers houses individually to mace them in time with the broadcast#or magically hacking webcams and phones to dispense a caustic mist into our faces#being silly#once again geting vivid brain skits from short combinations of words#I need to find an improv troupe or something#rambling in the tags
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I’ve started playing dnd again and the campaign I’m in has the pitch that we all must be characters from written works. The plot is we got thrown out of our own stories and must find our way back.
I am Hamlet, a warlock who made a pact with his Dad’s ghost (it’s absolutely his Dad’s ghost, he wasn’t tricked at all, ignore the fiend patron type) to get revenge on his Uncle. But this post isn’t about him.
Because our cleric, the one entrusted with keeping the party full of heals, the only person with healing magic, is House MD.
“Wait Iz!” You cry. “House MD is a television show, not written fiction.” You’d be correct. Which is why our cleric House is not from the television show.
He’s from a fan fiction.
It’s as funny as it sounds.
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My mother tells a lot of stories and admittedly my memory is undependable but every now and then she’ll start an anecdote like “as I’m sure you’re tired of me saying” as tho it’s going to be the most boring fact ever conceived and then drop “i met Tommy Douglas multiple times as a child”
#for those who aren’t Canadian or who were asleep during that social studies class#he was the guy who spearheaded our whole free healthcare Thing#after being on the ground for how brutal the 30s were for rural folks in the prairies#and apparently he was just a very kind man#he moved out west towards the end of his life and my grandparents were Politically Active so that’s how they crossed paths#Mum wouldve been just a little kid at the time#but apparently he would talk to her like he took her seriously#like this weird little kid living in poverty could have opinions and ideas that mattered#some people are capital-P Politicians in the sense that they’re slimy all the way to the tips of their toes#and some people are capital-P Politicians in that they’re genuinely interested in the people of their city/province/country#and want to find ways to make those people’s lives better#and you know chaboy is a staunch leftist but I truly believe that transcends ideology#anyway idk. it was like my equivalent of someone dropping that they hung out with an Olympian or whatever#which tbf my mum also does#also i keep telling her: i love hearing stories over and over again#BECAUSE my memory is not great and also bc im adhd and I literally!! don’t mind having the same conversations#also there’s always some new angle to it#it was fascinating years ago to do an assignment where I interviewed her about my (and my siblings’) births#and compare my recollected Tale with one particular telling from her#some of that’s telephone. some of that’s that the way she tells the story when trying to Provide A Factual Account#might be different from when she’s trying to emphasize the magicalness of it#or her frustration with my father#or what a comedy of errors it was#tell me stories fifty times. then tell me them again. i love you.
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neither of us have introduced ourselves here like At All i don't think but. jumping on here for a second to say. this is the first time in i think actually 6 months since we formed that we've actually seen Maxwell genuinely smile
#- will#we've Been Here just staying in the background for personal reasons 👍#anyway healing power of friendship and whatnot#maxwell felt alone bc they were pretty much The Only brainmade active whatsoever for a good couple months#and was thus much more affected by irl trauma bc there weren't any exomems to like. block that out with#and like. bc of weird headspace lore they also felt kinda guilty for existing in the first place#so. the stuff we do to our bodies in headspace. injuries and things. that tends to be permanent?#if we get injured in paracosm we stay injured in headspace#and percy is like. basically a fragment of a gods soul embedded in a human body#but the 'percy' part of the equation. was entirely the SOUL and not the body#so when at one point their soul became fully separated from their body#maxwell appeared. basically the human that was In The Background of their mind the entire time.#bc percy and also maxwell by extension were plural in source before getting introjected#but then in their canon their magic somehow forced all those previous headmates into their own bodies essentially dissolving the system#so they were freaked out alone in their own mind (they assumed)#but then the echoes started finding each other and combining into their own system-like structure so they weren't alone anymore#but then maxwell gets ejected from that system by having the echo part of its soul torn out#so they're alone in their mind AGAIN#but now they're like. forming their own little subsystem here. and it's making them feel better. less alone#there's maxwell and me (william) and we're brothers and then there's wasp (my weird cousin) and roobles (the bug that walked in)#and then julianna the mermaid and terria the little girl that hates everyone and then trick the weird fuckin imp goblin thing
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https://www.tumblr.com/qqueenofhades/743255237060689920/the-thing-that-confuses-me-about-the-dont-vote
The “don’t vote” left’s point is basically that, if Biden gets a second term, it’ll basically signal that “They’ll vote for us as long as we’re not Republicans, why don’t we do some REAL fucked up shit, if we can get away with it?” It takes the power out of the people’s hands and places it firmly in the party’s.
I can’t completely disagree with that, my caveat is that there’s no real alternative system or party in place, because top-down change is ineffective; a third party president has to contend with a two party congress.
Except no. This whole "Biden just wants to do as much fucked up shit as possible while not being a Republican, and if you give him a second term he'll do more fucked up shit deliberately to spite you" mindset is only possible as an interpretation if you a) deliberately and comprehensively ignore everything he has done to date, and b) you approach the situation with the maximum bad faith possible. Not to mention, the ultimate outcome of this Big Important Teaching Biden A Lesson is that Trump gets back into power and makes everything orders of magnitude worse, because he does in fact want to deliberately do evil shit to everyone and says so at every opportunity. There is not some magical happy alternative that springs into existence by not voting. If you choose this as a year to Teach Biden A Lesson, you are enabling Trump. Trump will be much, much worse. If you don't care about that, I still do not care what your Great Ideology is. You are not helping anyone and you are directly and irreversibly hurting everyone.
I made a post a few days ago wherein I mentioned that I want to assess Biden fairly, taking into account both strengths and weaknesses, but the rampant bad-faith, lying, misreading, misrepresentation, and open sabotage of him (especially by the online left; the GOP sometimes only wishes they were as good at turning Biden's voter pool against him) makes it really difficult to do that. My frustration with those people makes me just want to go "BIDEN IS GREAT THE END." I know he is a flawed old man (though by literally every account of a career spent in public service, he really does care about making the world a better place and any remotely good faith reading of his accomplishments thus far can see that). It is also very likely that he goes MORE left in a second term because he won't have to face the electorate again, he has always gone more left when pushed before, and he's not actually the scheming genocidal mastermind that leftist social media paints him as. Shocking, I know.
I know there are things in the world we don't like and don't want and want to stop, and therefore we blame our own president for not making it stop. But I have zero, no, none, absolutely none whatsoever sympathy for this pseudo-populist "WE NEED TO TEACH BIDEN A LESSON BY ELECTING TRUMP AGAIN, I AM VERY MORAL MUCH ACTIVIST" mindset. There's this funny thing about America wherein it is still (for now) a democracy. If Biden wins a second term, he can't run again. I would take literally anything these people said more seriously if they focused on developing their dream progressive successor for 2028 (and also figured out how to get that person elected and in a place to make real change) rather than cynically sabotaging Biden in the most consequential election year, again, of our lifetimes. If you don't like him now, find a way to make his successor a better option. Throwing a toddler tantrum and handing the country back to a senile, deranged, fascist, revenge-riddled, theocratic Trump HELPS. NOBODY. I still don't know how many times I'm going to have to say that, but yeah.
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crazy
pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader
summary: after one heated and spontaneous night together, aaron can’t seem to get his pretty subordinate (or her pussy) out of his head.
content warnings: smut, 18+, minors do not interact!, pussy!whipped hotch, age gaps, dirty talk, rough unprotected office sex, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving, mentions of m receiving in the past), choking, hair pulling, ass slapping, groping, some angst if u squint, love confessions and some asshole behavior, hotch is a munch and masturbates in his office.
word count: 6.5k (yea…)
a/n: this may seem a lil out of character for hotch? we all know he’s a professional thru and thru but the point is this is that he’s pussy whipped! also lots of flashbacks in italics whoopsies <3
Aaron was sure he was going crazy.
Or maybe he already was, and he was just starting to feel the effects of his craziness.
Aaron Hotchner, usually poised in a way that unwillingly intimidated others and made them back away from him, was unraveling in a way he had never done so before.
Having a one-night stand with his subordinate, the same subordinate he had been harboring painfully arising feelings for literal years, often led to such a reaction.
He could still recount every single detail from that night, from the moment the tension between you both began building itself up to the moment it actually snapped. It was as if he had everything engraved in his mind; the views he never thought he'd get to see to the things he never thought he would get to feel etched into his brain.
It had all been a blur that night, and a part of Aaron still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you reciprocated his attraction towards you, letting him, not only touch you but also fuck you.
You two had stayed up late in your shared hotel room only to talk, really. After you and the rest of the team had wrapped up a somewhat good case, you only wanted to rant to one another. Aaron knew that you weren’t a ‘whiskey girl,’ or whatever it was that you said, but he had offered you a drink either way.
Neither one of you had even gotten tipsy, so he couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol. But the connection had always been there, though, one thing finally leading to another and all the unsaid words and stolen glances between you both began to surface.
It was as if everything you both silently felt for another was starting to seep through and everything that hindered you from telling each other no longer mattered.
It had felt so hot, from the way you held him close with your legs wrapped around his waist to the messy yet passionate kisses you shared, your bodies connected beneath.
It was everything Aaron envisioned it to be. But, as magical and heated as it was, he was the one to have ended things before they even had a chance at starting.
The morning after, as soon as you had both untangled your bodies from one another and got dressed to get back home to Quantico, he had done the stupidest thing imaginable.
“We shouldn’t do this again.”
You froze in your spot, half-way through tugging your pants up your legs. You blink at him from where he stood on the other side of the bed, already dressed, “This?”
“Yes.” Aaron says, voice awfully neutral.
You frown, jutting out your bottom lip that same way you did when you were thinking, “May I ask why?”
He takes a deep breath, “I’m your boss,” he gives you a pointed look, as if he had to remind you after fucking you dumb, “and you’re my subordinate. This goes against several workplace regulations and if anyone were to find out we could both lose our jobs.”
You’re quiet for several moments after that, and Aaron uses the silence to his advantage to prepare for any arguments you could be thinking of to use against him. He can’t seem to read you, though, your expression pensive as you stare at the floor.
Then you shrug. “Okay.” You say, simple and nonchalant.
Aaron watches as you continue finishing getting ready and he doesn’t know if he should ask if you were actually okay with it.
He decides that it’s for the best, not getting any pushback or having to argue on why he’s just subconsciously pushing you away after having one of the best nights of his life.
“Okay.” He repeats, giving you a small nod, even though you weren’t looking at him. With one last glance to your surprisingly calm figure, he finishes collecting the rest of his things and heads out of the room.
Even after the team had checked out of their hotel and settled onto the jet, you didn’t spare him a second glance. You hadn’t necessarily moved to ignoring him or silently lashing out, but it was as if everything went back to normal, with no mentions or glances back to that night.
That should be what was driving him crazy; the way he didn’t know if you were only calm because you were planning on going to the higher-ups, to HR, about what had happened. If you were secretly planning on putting him on blast out of anger or betrayal or telling him that he had coerced you to sleep with him and threatened you in case you didn’t.
No. What was driving him crazy was that he couldn’t get you out of his head, even after he broke things off.
Everything was engraved into his mind, from the sight of you on your knees, mouth full of his cock while you stared up at him with tear-pricked eyelashes and basked in his praises. Or the way your nails dug into his skin as he thrusted into you and the way you felt around him, all while he took pleasure in the sweet sounds he emitted from you every second.
He was going mad, and the already established feelings he had for you weren’t helping, either.
Aaron stared at you from inside his office, studied your features from afar whilst you sat on your desk. Your face was set in a neutral expression, flickering your attention from your computer screens to the physical files in front of you, but all he could see was the same face and person morphed into the one that had been withering in pleasure underneath him.
“Hotch…” you whine, a hand wrapped around his bicep as he dipped a finger inside your glistening pussy.
He watched as your back arched off the bed, throwing your head back against the pillows at the feeling of his thick digit inside you, “What, sweetheart?” He asked, the nickname rolling of his tongue easily. “What do you need? Hm?”
Your hips stuttered as he inserted another finger, thrusting them in and out you, “Y-You. I want you. Inside me.” You peered at him through your fluttering lashes, your mascara smudged underneath your eyes from the tears that had slipped out while you were sucking his cock.
“Yeah?” His voice is filled with amusement and bewilderment, one part of him indulging in seeing you this way—all disheveled and needy for him—while the other was still stunned at the whole thing. “Want my cock inside you after you just had it in your mouth?”
You nod meekly at his words, a sweet pout adorning your flushed lips.
Despite the heat and tension that suffocated the room, Aaron’s heart fluttered at the sight of you. The way you were asking for him ever so bashfully after just giving him the best head of his life tugged at his heartstrings and made his cock twitch.
“Please,” you whisper, bucking your hips upwards. A stuttered gasp emits from your lips when you feel the tip of his dick prod at your sopping entrance, “Aaron…”
Aaron lets out a low, throaty groan at the sound of his first name mumbled in desperation, and he thinks back to all the times he’s thought about you like this. How many times he’s dreamed of having you underneath him, encaged by his broad figure and whining for him.
“I got you, sweet girl,” he says promisingly. He lifts himself to his full height on his knees, lining himself up with your entrance and holding onto the meat of your thigh. Another groan utters from the back of his throat, mixed in with your gasps and puffs of breath as he begins to sink inside you.
A knock on his office door forces Aaron to snap out of his train of thought. He looks down at himself, registering the painfully hard boner he was now sporting. Quickly, he scooted further into his desk so that the tent in his pants wouldn’t be visible by whoever was knocking on his door. Clearing his throat, he lets out a somewhat proper ‘come in.’
In walks Garcia, and Aaron doesn’t know if he should be thankful or mortified it was her out of all people.
“Sir?” She asks politely, files in hand and head tilted in an ever so Penelope manner. “We’re ready whenever you are.”
Right. It was barely nine in the morning and Aaron was already sporting a growing tent in his suit pants.
He nods, doing his best to feign being busy, “I’ll be there in five, Garcia.”
He wants to think he comes out as somewhat normal, but panic surges through him briefly when her expression turns into a curious one.
“Are you alright, sir?” She takes a step forward and Aaron has to hold himself back from screaming for her to stay where she is. “You look red and pale at the same time.”
He shakes his head, waving a hand dismissively yet good-naturedly, “I’m fine. Jack is coming down with something and I think I might be, too.”
Great. Now he was using his innocent son as a scapegoat for his own horniness and bad decisions. Some father he was.
Garcia nods, looking convinced enough before bidding him a nod shuffling out of his office and closing the door behind her.
Aaron lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. His boner had softened the slightest bit, and he was conflicted in trying to make it go down completely or taking care of it right here and now. But the thought of having to face his team after fucking himself into his fist mortified him. Of seeing you, right after fucking himself into his fist to the thought of you after leaving you hanging coldly.
He opted out of it, though it took more than five minutes to settle himself before heading over to the conference room. Once again, he tried to play it as casual as possible while he walked to his seat with everyone staring expectantly at him, including you.
“Let’s get started.”
The team’s briefings went on as so, everyone presenting their perspective cases and discoveries within them. It was a bit easier to lose focus of what he was thinking earlier when the gory crime scenes showed up on the TV screen each time someone went up, but all focus was lost when it was your turn.
You stood from your seat, taking the control from Penelope’s hands and talking everyone through the case you were currently focusing on.
Aaron held his fist up to his face as he tried to focus on the details of the case instead of you and your entire being. Your hair whipped out and into your face each time you looked from the screen and back to the team. The top part of your dress twisted with each turn and motion you made, the bottom part of it creasing along with it. Was it a new dress?
Didn’t matter. It didn’t compare to the pajama shorts he had slowly, almost tauntingly, pulled down your legs before–
“...makes me think he’s keeping them in a secluded space. He obviously likes the control and the pleasure of having his victims’ screams and cries for help to himself, so I’ve advised police to search condemned and empty areas far away from the city and even on the outskirts of the town.” You finished with a nod and once again Aaron was snapped away from his unholy thoughts.
While everyone else added their own commentary and advice, Aaron realized he had been the only to have not said anything during your presentation, too preoccupied with you once more.
“Adding in the possibility of him keeping them outside of the main town the victims have been found in was a smart move,” He quickly added, trying his best to comment on what he had paid attention to. His breath hitched when you turned to look at him. “Law enforcement might have missed that and can collaborate with police from the next town over. Good job.”
You smiled softly and nodded in appreciation, “Thank you.”
Fuck. How were you so nonchalant about this? Aaron’s mind wandered back to the probability of you getting back at him by going to Strauss about your rendezvous. It was only early morning Monday, the first day back in the office after said events, so it wasn’t a surprise he hadn’t heard anything from her. Yet.
He nodded back in response, though, casting his gaze downwards and collecting his things, “Great. I expect everyone’s reports to be on my desk by tonight, please.”
Everyone stood from their seats, shuffling out of the room with mumbled conversations. Aaron held back, taking his time in looking through his files and stacking them together while you did the same, leaving the two of you alone once everyone else had gone.
He wanted to say something, gather the courage to ask you something. Anything, just to make sure you were alright. If the two of you were still right, in spite of everything.
Only when you finished collecting things did he bring himself to open his mouth, a soft utterance of your name to get your attention.
You stopped in your tracks, a good couple feet away from him and the door. You stared at him, waiting for him to speak with a neutral expression on your face.
Not one of annoyance or irritation. Just expectant.
God, you really were driving him crazy.
You raised a brow when he didn’t say anything, “…Yes?”
He clears his throat again before asking, “Is everything okay?”
You blink and tilt your head, dumbfounded, “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Aaron grips at his files, guilt consuming him all over again. “With us,” he clarifies, swallowing harshly. “Is everything okay with us?”
You blink a couple more times, eyes wandering to the side as if you’re trying to catch onto what he’s implying.
It makes his heart churn.
“Oh.” You finally say, meeting his gaze. “Yes. We both agreed, no? To what you said.”
Aaron can’t decipher if the smile you give him is genuine or jeering, and he can’t tell if what you say last is clarifying as his answer or if it’s something underlyingly petty.
Either way it’s something. You’ve given him something and he’ll take it.
He nods finally, “Yes, we did.”
You shrug, smiling a bit wider this time, “All good then.”
He gives another curt nod, stepping to the side so you could exit the room. He moves to follow behind you, but he gets a whiff of your perfume as soon as you brush past him. The scent makes him halt and he has to hold onto one of the back posts of a chair to stabilize himself.
He takes a deep breath, inhaling the remnants that linger behind you for a moment.
He truly was going crazy.
The rest of the day goes by the same and hardly any work gets done on Aaron’s end. He’d scribble whatever he needed to write down or fill out then get distracted by the void of you.
It was getting impossible for him to keep working with the relentless problem that was his ongoing boner. He was tucked into his desk all the way yet it hurt whenever he leaned forward or backwards while moving around. Oftentimes he tried to give himself some sort of relief by running a hand over himself, but it didn’t help much, and the dirty thoughts about you certainly didn’t either.
The sounds that filled the room were lewd, your gags and moans from below mixed in with Aaron’s grunts and words of encouragement echoing off the hotel room’s walls. His large hand was entangled in your hair, pushing your head forward to take more of him, as if your jaw wasn’t aching enough already.
Though there wasn’t a way for him to tell, really. You gave no sign or indication that you wanted him to stop, your tongue swiping at the head of his cock each time he dipped your head even more. Saliva pooled from your tongue and leaked from your mouth, dripping into the carpeted floor and entailing a trail from your lips to your chin.
Aaron’s head was thrown back in utter pleasure and astonishment, bewildered that you’d ever be doing this to him. He didn’t want to finish before you, but it was taking everything him to not give in and fuck your face the way he truly desired.
He’d never received head this good, nor had he received it much recently. His legs were spread with you settled in between them contently. “That’s it sweetheart,” he mumbled, brushing fallen strands of hair out of your face lovingly. “Taking me so good, such a good girl.”
His praises only edged you on even further, bobbing your head up and down a couple more times before pulling off of him with a slick ‘pop!’ You rest your head on his thigh in an attempt to catch your breath, a shaky, stuttered sigh heaving from your chest as your hand comes up to continue the rest of your work.
Aaron has to run a hand over his face to try and keep his composure, his nails digging into the skin of his palm albeit their short length. He throws his head back against his chair, a grunt threatening to emit from his throat as he coercively runs his hand over his boner.
At least he wishes he can say it’s coercively, really it’s just a tainted image of you he’s embedded in his own dirty mind.
It doesn’t take long for Aaron to give in and reach inside his pants, sparing another careful glance to his now locked office door before springing his painfully hard cock free. A low, pleased grunt spills from his pursed lips as he wraps his hand around himself. He gives his length a good tug, bucking his hips up instantaneously, the same way he did when you first wrapped your mouth around him.
Still, as cautiously and quietly as possible, he begins to stroke at his length, a hand covering his mouth as he continues to dart his eyes from below himself to his door–as if anyone would walk in at any second and catch him jerking himself off in his own government-issued office.
He begins to imagine that his fist is you. That you’re sitting in the space between his legs with your hot mouth licking long stripes up his length and that your hand is toying with his balls the same way you did before. It only makes him pump at his fist even faster, the hand that was covering his mouth shooting down to the armrest of his chair, gripping at the cushioned leather as he began to reach his high.
“Fuck, Hotch, fuck!” Your whines are eccentric, head thrown back in pure ecstasy. Your legs wrap around Aaron’s waist, pulling him closer to you as he continues to thrust into your sopping pussy.
Aaron groans loudly, silently thanking that his and yours room was placed further down the hall from everyone else’s. His hands rest at the bottom of your thighs, his large hand gripping the flesh for support as he pounds into you relentlessly. Your pussy grips him like a vice and your nails dig into the skin of his biceps from where you hold him.
His sight is focused on you only, the way your tits bounce with each thrust and the way your mouth is curled into a wide ‘o’ from the pleasure you’re receiving.
“So good for me, baby,” he mumbles, hand coming down to grab at your breast, squeezing possessively before leaning down to crash his lips against yours hungrily.
You whine through the kiss, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging while your other hand scratches at his back. A string of saliva connects at your lips when he pulls away, his head dipping down to kiss and suck at your neck while he grabs your hips to better pistol himself inside you.
A moan echoes through the room again and straight to his ear, your back arching into his chest, “Feels so good, Aaron, so good!”
Aaron’s release sputters everywhere messily and he has to bite at his fist to stop himself from groaning loudly. His come spills onto parts of his leg, his desk, and even onto the floor. He leans back into his chair, trying to contain himself and his heaving chest.
He takes a look at the mess he created–the mess you unknowingly entailed from him. Like clockwork, the paranoia and guilt from doing this begins to seep in and he’s quick to snatch a handful of tissues from the box he kept on the corner of his desk to clean himself up. He tucks himself back into his pants then moves to clean at his desk and his floor.
Clearly, he hadn’t known what he was thinking. Not when it came to calling things off between the two of you before they even happened and certainly not now after he realized the spell he was currently in.
The last hour of the work day comes by agonizingly slowly. After his little session, Aaron finds it a little bit easier to get the rest of his work done (key word: a little bit). The rest of the members all begin to spill into his office to hand in their finished paperwork and files, all of them sparing him brief glances of curiosity and concern–the same way Garcia had done earlier–before bidding him goodnight and leaving.
The only one that hasn’t come to hand in anything was you. He knew you were still here, he could see you sitting at your desk from the view through his blinds, scribbling away casually like you had been doing so the whole day. After you had stalled to follow behind the rest of your co-workers, Aaron had gotten up from his desk and pretended to be walking around his office with a file in hand, lifting his head every few minutes to see if you were ever making your way towards him to turn in your work.
He wanted desperately to know what you were thinking. If you were secretly being tortured by the recollections of your hook-up, too, or if you truly didn’t care about him basically dumping you after having sex with you and telling you that it could never happen again due to your perspective titles.
With a defeated sigh, he closes the file he was still pretending to read. His eyes instinctively travel back to where your desk was at and his breath immediately catches in his throat when he sees that you aren’t there. He hears the sound of footsteps approaching closer and closer through the staircase that leads up to his office and you walk in soon after.
You freeze in the doorway when you see that he’s already staring at you. Your eyes flicker to a space behind him then back at him before you take a tentative step back and glance at the clock hung on the wall facing his desk, “Uh, is this a bad time?”
“No!” Aaron takes a step forward when you take another one back. He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, “No, no, it’s not. I didn’t know you were still here. Everyone else left almost half an hour ago.”
“Oh,” you glance back behind you to the rest of the bullpen before looking back at him. “I was just finishing up the reports you said you wanted done by the end of today.” You jut your chin toward the stack of files you were carrying in one arm.
“Right.” He clears his throat, motioning to the pile of files the rest of the team had stacked on his desk. “You can just leave them there.”
You nod, giving him a small smile.
He watches as you walk over to his desk, taking in your appearance while you double-check that everything was correct. He swallowed harshly, taking in the way your skirt hugged your lower figure perfectly the same way it did during the morning debriefing. Your hair flows ever so slightly and he takes in a good look at your side profile when you tuck a loose strand behind your ears while you continue to flip through the pages of your file.
You’re breathtakingly gorgeous and Aaron doesn’t know if what suddenly makes him start walking up behind you is from what he’s felt since sleeping with you or if it’s everything he’s felt since way before that.
You halt your movements when you feel his presence directly behind you, gasping when you turn and find how close he was standing.
“Hotch–” you gulp, heat blooming through your cheeks albeit feeling confused. “W-What are you doing?”
Aaron takes in your tone and he can tell that you’re not asking in a disgusted, annoyed way, more so in a flustered way. He lifts a hand to brush the hair that frames your face past your face but doesn’t actually move to do it, keeping it there to see if you push him away. But you don’t. So he brushes it away.
“I can’t get you out of my head.” He mumbles, eyes boring into the side of your face as you stare up at him as best as you can from your practically rigid figure.
You scoff, a sound filled with so much humor yet so little at the same time, “You were the one that said this couldn’t happen again.” You twist your head, trying to turn your body around more with the way he had you pressed against the front of his desk.
“That was a mistake,” he whispers. He dips his head so that his mouth is by your ear, watching you shiver from the proximity.
“A mistake?” You repeat, brows raised. You lull your head to the side but you don’t know if you do it to get away from him or to grant him access to your neck.
Aaron takes it as the latter and hovers his lips over your skin, the same spot where he had left splotches of pink and purple last time.
“Yes,” he confirms, “a mistake.”
You want to ask why he said it then, want to press him for answers but you can’t when his hot breath sends shivers down your spine and arms. Your legs go weak when he brings a hand around you to wrap at your middle, big hand splayed across your stomach to pull you in even closer, if possible.
“H-Hotch,” you clear your throat. “We can’t. You said so yourself.” You roll your shoulders back in a weak effort to push him away, but all he does is hold you tighter.
“I was wrong,” he mutters, pressing a feather-light kiss to the very side of your neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of your perfume again and letting out a pleased hum from the back of his throat. “I was so wrong.”
You gasp when he flings an arm out in front of you, proceeding to knock over the multiple things from his desk. Files, pens, and other trinkets fly off the hard wood and land on the floor with a loud crash. Aaron spins you around before you can process the whole mess, turning you around so that you were facing him.
“Aaron-!” Your mind is a whirlwind as he grabs at your hips and easily sets you down on the edge of the desk. His lips crash onto yours messily and you hum, satisfied.
The kiss quickly becomes sloppy and hungry, muffled whines as you two practically devour one another. Your hands wrap around his neck while his own roam your body, curious hands searching for the zipper of your dress and bunching up the fabric in the process. You mewl when he finally finds it and slowly tugs it down. You break apart from the kiss in order to help him, scrambling from side to side so that it comes off from under you.
Aaron lets out a groan at the sight of you as he tosses the dress to the side. You’re wearing a matching set: a lacy white bra that cups your breasts gorgeously and a lacy white thong paired with it. It takes everything in him to not come undone right then and there.
Holding your gaze, Aaron sinks to his knees, shrugging off his suit jacket as he kneels before you.
“Aaron…”
He immediately shushes you, discarding the jacket somewhere next to your dress on his office floor. “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”
Instead of obeying, you knock your knees together bashfully, the fat of your thighs pressing against each other.
Aaron’s eyes darken at your shy defiance. “I said spread your legs.” His hands come out to grab behind your knees and you gasp again when he spreads them apart forcefully, large hands holding them in place.
“Oh, sweet girl,” he utters, gaze locked on your soaked panties. His palms slide down your legs, eyes flickering back up at you as he begins to kiss at your calves. Each peck to your skin leaves a wet trail from your earlier kiss and you whine in anticipation as he makes his way up before coming face to face with your pussy. His fingers hook themselves inside the thin fabric and you immediately get the message, lifting your hips once more so he could slide them down your legs
Aaron swiftly shoves the wet material into his pockets, wasting no time before diving straight in and burying his head in between your thighs.
His tongue swiping at your folds elicits a loud moan from you, your hands shooting out to grab at his head, “Aaron!” You yell out, fingers tangling in his hair to stabilize yourself from the suddenness.
Aaron grunts from below you, the sound sending vibrations up your body and causing you to arch into his touch. He didn’t know how he hadn’t thought of tasting you that night in the hotel room, too preoccupied with the pleasure he had received from you. But–dare he say–this was better than head, better than anything else he had ever gotten, tasted or even done. He wasn’t even a minute into devouring you and he had already decided that this was the best pussy he had ever had in his whole life.
“Fuck, sweetheart. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this pussy.” He lapped at your juices, mouth hot on your dripping cunt. His hands continued to grip at your thighs, large palms still keeping you in place from where you were writhing in pleasure.
“A-Aaron,” you whimper, grinding your hips against his face. “Please, I need you. Need you so bad.”
Your head was thrown back in utter bliss, hips stuttering with each nibble at your clit. Your fingers tugged his face closer despite the longing you had to feel him inside you, caging his head to keep him there.
Aaron couldn’t help but bask in the sounds he was pulling from you. It was as if his mouth had a mind of his own and all it could focus on was licking up every single one of your juices, the taste nearly intoxicating. He flickered his eyes up to you, taking in the way your chest heaved and your breasts pushed against the cups of your bra, practically spilling out.
Without removing his tongue from your pussy, he reaches behind you and easily undoes the hooks.
You let the straps fall from your shoulders and aid him in tossing it somewhere in the room along with your dress. Desperately, you reach for Aaron’s hands and place them on your breasts, groaning when he rolls each already hard and sensitive nipple in between your fingers.
Your legs begin to shake and you’re quick to wrap them around Aaron’s head, the heels of your feet digging into his muscular back. “Mm, fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you toss your head back as the coil in your belly threatens to snap.
“Yeah?” He teases, angling his head so that he could spit onto your cunt, all before diving right back in and swirling it together with your arousal. “You gonna cum on my mouth, honey?”
You nod, feverishly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel your orgasm getting closer and closer.
“Go ahead, pretty,” Aaron ushers, voice deep and rough from his non stop nibbling and sucking. “Come on my mouth, sweetheart.”
A certain bite on your clit immediately has you seeing stars and the office is soon filled with your cries of ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you violently. Your body shakes and stutters as you ride out the high on his face, leaning backwards until your back was resting against his desk.
Aaron doesn’t relent even as you begin to come down from your high, enhancing the way your legs shook from where they were wrapped around him.
“No, n-no more, Aaron, p-please,” you begged, keeping your back on the desk while weakly attempting to push him away.
“Just one more, honey. You can give me one more, can’t you?”
You don’t get the chance to answer, back arching off the desk as his fingers prodded at your entrance briefly before he shoved two inside. A high-pitched moan emitted from your swollen lips and your hips rutted against his face once more as he scissored the thick digits inside your gummy walls.
“That’s it, pretty girl, that’s it,” Aaron’s sultry words only encouraged you further, his face wet with your arousal and the release of your first orgasm. “I’m gonna make it up to you, sweetheart. But first you gotta give me another one.”
His thumb came up alongside his mouth to rub rough circles on your already sensitive, swollen clit and you immediately felt that coil snap once more, mixing in with the first orgasm you hadn’t even properly come down from.
“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron!” You mumbled dumbly, mouth agape and head hanging back from the desk as you rode out your second high on his face, the heavy wood shaking with every motion.
Aaron’s head was buried even further in between your legs, lips trying to catch every single drop that leaked from your hole, pulling out your fingers and cleaning them with a swirl from his tongue. He delivered a sweet kiss to your folds before standing, his knees cracking in response to being kneeled on the ground for so long.
He leans over, bringing a guiding hand to the back of your neck to get you to sit up, “You good, honey?” Aaron asks, brushing away the stray hands of hair that had stuck to your face. “Still with me?”
You hum, nodding weakly, “Need you, Aaron.”
Aaron chuckles at your fucked-out form, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, “I got you, sweetheart. Bend over the desk for me.”
You stand on wobbly legs and do as he says blindly, the need to have him inside you outshining your nearing overstimulation. You feel yourself salivate as the sound of him undoing his belt is heard from behind you and you look back to watch him pull himself out from his boxers.
He hears you gasp when his cock springs out and hits against his stomach, tip an angry red and leaking with precome. He wraps a hand around himself and groans at how painfully hard he was. He quickly lines himself up with your entrance, slapping his length against your dripping folds before easing himself inside little by little.
You whine from in front of him when he bottoms out, the tip of his dick easily hitting your sweet spot the same way it did before in the hotel. This time, though, it feels even better with how wet you already were, his cock glistening when he pulls out before shoving himself back in roughly.
It doesn’t take long for Aaron to set a brutal pace, hands on your hips as he begins to pound into you from behind ruthlessly, a stark contrast from the way he had asked you if you were okay.
“Fuck, sweetheart. You have no idea how crazy you’ve driven me since I first fucked this pretty pussy,” Aaron grunted form behind, fingers digging so hard into your hips he was sure there would be an imprint there. “Had to get myself off in my own office, that’s how crazy you had me going.”
You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Your mouth is wide open, small huffs the only noise you can make while a line of saliva drools from your tongue. It’s only when you feel him wrap your hair in his hand and pull your back flush against his chest that you squeal, the angle pushing his cock further inside you.
“You like that, pretty?” He asks deeply, voice hoarse and gravely as he continues to pound into your pussy, the squelching that comes from beneath scandalous. “Like getting this pussy fucked by me, huh?”
You nod dumbly, too fucked out to properly answer him. A harsh slap against your ass makes you cry out, the sting somewhat snapping you back to reality.
“Answer me,” Aaron commands, tugging at your hair and making your back arch even further against him. “Did I fuck you dumb like last time?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble, legs shaking even in your standing position. “I l-love it, Aaron. Feels so g-good.”
He chuckles against your ear, the way you could barely register his questions only making him quicken his pace, “You gonna come on my cock, sweetheart? Gonna give me one more wrapped around me?”
You nod with as much fervor as possible, “Yes, y-yes, can I, Aaron? Want you to c-cum inside me, please.”
“Yeah? Want me to stuff you full of my cum?” He asks. He doesn’t bother to correct you when you don’t answer, instead snaking his hand to your front and down to your pussy.
The feel of him rubbing circles on your clit is the final push you need before you’re clenching around him, body trembling against him as he continues his assault on your swollen bud.
It doesn’t take long for Aaron to spill his own release inside you, giving you a couple more shallow thrusts as he comes down from his own high.
You whine when you feel him pull out, a string of your mixed releases following suit on the tip of his cock.
“So good, baby,” he praises, wrapping a hand around your neck gently and pressing soothing kisses on your cheek. “Did so good for me.”
You lean your head against his shoulder as he reaches for some tissues to clean you up, “So I guess we’re definitely doing this again?”
Aaron laughs, a pink adorning his cheeks, “Yes. Yes, we are. In fact, I’m telling everyone to work from home tomorrow so I can take you on a proper date. I’m not risking going crazy again.”
You suppress a giggle, “You went crazy? Over my pussy?”
He sighs, “If only you knew.”
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x bau!reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner smut#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#maddie’s stills
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365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 343
Adjective: Modern
Noun: Street
Definitions for those who need/want them:
Modern: relating to the present or recent times as opposed to the remote past; characterized by or using the most up-to-date techniques, ideas, or equipment; denoting the form of a language that is currently used, as opposed to any earlier form; denoting a current or recent style or trend in art, architecture, or other cultural activity marked by a significant departure from traditional styles and values
Street: a public road in a city or town, typically with houses and buildings on one or both sides; (US) used to refer to the financial markets and activities on Wall Street; the roads or public areas of a city or town; relating to the outlook, values, or lifestyle of those young people who are perceived as composing a fashionable urban subculture; denoting someone who is homeless; performing or being performed on the street
#im rather late again#but my girlfriend and i had yet another busy day#we did some shopping and saw some local holiday lights (which is now a yearly tradition for us with this being our third year (wow))#and we played some magic when we got home#it was all rather fun (despite it being a lot)#anyway i find this prompt particularly interesting#mainly because there are definitions of both words that i guess i didnt know about or never thought about#so there is more to explore and more potential than i initially thought there would be#i have quite a few ideas running through my head right now#specifically inspirations to pull from#mag150 cul-de-sac (from the magnus archives)#1x22 the monsters are due on maple street (from the twilight zone)#the house on maple street from the mysteries of harris burdick#im not sure if ill use any of them or which ones (or one) i will use#or if ill come up with something else later#but we will just have to see#the magnus archives#tma#the lonely#the lonely tma#the twilight zone#the mysteries of harris burdick#chris van allsburg#thanks for reading#writing#writer#creative writing#writing prompt#writeblr#trying to be a writeblr at least
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Sorry, I'm gonna ramble again. Please ignore this avalanche of feelings I have when I look at this.
The first question I asked myself when Sam Shepard started to take shape in my head was, why him? Why is he the one who saves the galaxy, and not someone else? I've spent the entirety of Opus answering that question.
He started out as a kid in love with the stars, and so impatient to see where they could take him he raced through life, with time for only the people who could keep up. To think of that kid, and then see the person depicted here, carrying the hopes of an entire galaxy inside him along with the broken pieces of himself, feels like an answer in and of itself.
Everything that makes him Commander Shepard tries to strangle Sam. Part of what saves him from becoming another Saren was a ragtag group of misfits who taught him that even if the galaxy kept letting him down, the people he loved wouldn't let him bear it alone.
But over Alchera...he was alone. It wasn't their fault. It was the fault of the stars. The stars he was born in became the stars he died in, and he died alone and afraid.
No one came for him, like he'd come for so many others.
And it had to happen that way. There is no happy ending for anyone without Sam's death over Alchera.
Sam Shepard is someone who has been searching for the better angles of his nature most of his life. Mezzo is the story of the brief time he stops searching.
The cataclysm depicted in this art, the shot through the heart that fractures him into pieces, is a quintessential part of the answer to that question I asked in the beginning.
Why him?
In the end it's quite simple - because it couldn't be anyone else. When I'm done with Opus, you'll understand why.
Wanted to share this on my own too - so incredibly honored and proud to have made this cover for Mezzo, a new story from @swaps55. A fitting reveal for N7 Day, and one of my favorite things I've done to date!
The fic, by the way, rocks.
#'shoot it again sam' shepard#i have quite simply never been so moved by a character as i have been by shepard#and sam is my only shepard#sometimes i fret over how silly it is for a fictional person to have such a deathgrip on me#but we all need heroes#we all need hope#hope feels so hard to come by these days#maybe we just take our magic where we can find it#take what isn't real and make it real#wow i'm really up in my feelings here tonight#someone please take my keyboard away#this is probably the most self indulgent post i have ever made
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