#Ring of pakistan

[tohokuu]

mannnn this mf got me making pipecleaner flower bouquets for him mannnnn

[roomselfcontain2]

This is a self-contained studio room visit website for rent new home available now with water heater wardrobe pop false ceiling interior design and setup located at ada george off iwofe road in port Harcourt city rivers state Nigeria

[paulpingminho]

[cimmanonrowl]

Eat Your Young pt.1

Part Two | Masterlist

It was a blessing when you were offered a job to look after a kid named Jack. He is a good one– smart, funny, a little cheeky but obeys you nonetheless. His father was all the same— Mr. Hotchner. He pays really well and on time, and made sure that after his arrival from Pakistan, you finally learn to accept your hidden desires.

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Contents: age gap, oral fixation, oral (f) receiving, cum play, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, unprotected, rough sex, dom!aaron, daddy kink, powerplay: boss/employee dynamic, pussy-eater bearded aaron.

You were supposed to find Jack in ten minutes. 

Ten minutes maximum, you told yourself. That is the only reason why you confidently agreed to play hide and seek with that hyperactive, sugar-high of a child. Just ten minutes.

Now you couldn’t breathe in panic.

“Jack!” your trembling voice echoed down the hallway as you peered through rooms you had ransacked just three minutes ago. “Jack, please. Where are you, honey?”

Nothing.

The heavy sound of your frantic steps pierced the silence as you bolted downstairs, feeling even more lightheaded as the gnawing anxiety grew harshly and clawed at your insides. The silence reverberating through every corner of the house felt extremely taunting. Yet, with the rush of worry you feel for the kid, you couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything else.

Your chest hurts, your mind racing with every horrid scenario, each thud echoing in your ears as you rush to the kitchen. Shortly after you were hired and joined their little family, Jessica told you everything she felt you needed to be aware of. And you knew what Jack had to go through as a kid. He and his father had gone through terrible things you weren’t even sure it was possible to handle.

Warm tears now flooded your eyes as you desperately scanned every nook and cranny— he was not under the table, not inside the empty kitchen cabinet, nor behind the dining room curtains.

“Jack Hotchner!” you tried keeping the tremor out of your voice, making yourself sound assertive and annoyed as an attempt to scare him, yet your panic still found a way to lace at each word. “This isn’t funny anymore, Jack! I’m telling your dad!” 

You darted to the living room, ripping aside the couch cushions and peeking behind and under every piece of furniture. Now your breath comes in shallow gasps. With each movement, the very memory of his mischievous giggle haunted you, ringing inside your brain.

When you realized the kid wasn’t there, you sprinted again upstairs, taking two steps at a time. Your mind continuously raced with possibilities. Did he sneak out? Is he hiding in the attic? The basement? Jesus Christ, did you even lock the front door?

You throw open the closet in the hallway, pushing aside winter coats and a pile of boxes. “Jack! I’m serious! Come out!” 

Desperation edged even closer.

The bathroom door swung open with a creak as you pushed through the room. But to your horror, it was all empty, too.

You staggered back to his bedroom with quick steps. Your very last hope. You flung open the toy chest, rummaging through the chaos of plastic dinosaurs, action figures, and Lego blocks. Still nothing. It didn’t even cross your mind that a kid as old as Jack wouldn’t fit in a small wooden toy box; your mind was too frantic to think logically.

“Jack! Where are you?” you dropped to your knees, peering under his bed, your vision blurring with unshed tears. “Please, Jack, come out!” 

You stood by the window and started biting on your nails— a habit you developed when you’re too anxious to function. You clutched your phone tightly as you hugged yourself, fingers trembling, contemplating to finally dial for help. From the window you observed that the garden looked empty as always, the back shed had always been locked, and you couldn’t see anyone behind the bushes— Jack was nowhere to be found. 

The dread is almost paralyzing, a heavy weight pressing firmly on your chest.

And just as you made up your mind to go outside and check properly, your phone vibrated on your hand. Blood drained on your face as you glanced at the screen and read the familiar name on the caller’s I.D.

Mr. Hotchner.

Jack’s father. Your employer— who also happens to be a big shot FBI agent. If he learned that you lost his son in a hide-and-seek game, no matter how warmhearted, accommodating, and considerate that man is of your needs and well-being, you get this nagging feeling that you might end up floating on a river somewhere with no leads of any kind or prime suspect to consider.

You rubbed your eyes as you accepted the call, your doom at the same time. “H-hello?”

“Hey,” Aaron’s voice crackles through the line, distant yet filled with warmth. “Just wanted to check in. How’s Jack doing?”

Your throat tightened as you listened. 

“Mr. Hotchner…”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Hotchner…” your fingers gripped the phone tightly as you let out a strangled sob. “I... I can’t find Jack. We– we were playing hide and seek, and now he’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere,” warm tears flowed down your cheeks as you continued, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry. I’ve been l-looking… I swear. I’m really sorry.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, and you can almost hear Aaron’s heartbeat sync with your frantic pulse. You braced for the incoming screams, expecting him to ridicule your incompetence. After all, you’ve always thought of Mr. Hotchner as someone who never hesitates to pinpoint someone’s inefficiency. Maybe today you’ll have enough luck to prove your theory.

But in a calm voice, Aaron Hotchner said softly instead, “Alright, I need you to stay calm for me, sweetheart. Are you sure you checked everywhere?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you sniffed quietly in relief, rubbing your nose and the tears streaming down your face. “Everywhere. The cabinets, the cupboards, h-his toy box…”

A brief silence fell with that, and you bit your lip in embarrassment. “His toy box? You don’t suppose he’s gonna fit in there, do you?” Aaron sounded like he was trying not to laugh. What a silly, little girl.

“T-that’s not the point, sir!”

“Did you check the front door? Is the back door locked?”

“Yes. I always make sure to lock it.”

“Have you checked my office then?”

“N-no…” you drawled in confusion, frowning as you went back to biting the edge of your nail. “Should I?”

What kind of question is that? Why would you even go there? That’s the only room in his house that you don’t welcome yourself. Mr. Hotchner may have never told you so but you’re fully aware of all the confidential documents he’s storing inside. You can’t afford to be thrown in jail for obstructing a case because you have mistaken a case file as trash and thrown it out.

“It’s worth a look. Jack likes playing in there when I’m working,” Aaron’s tone suddenly shifted, his voice turning quiet as he started with his order. “There’s a wooden crate beside my desk, check that first.”

You hesitated. “But, I don—”

“Just check, sweetheart, please,” Aaron interrupted, gently but firmly as always. “I trust you.”

The sincerity in his words cut through your anxiety. Aaron trusts you. So you took a deep breath and nodded to yourself before stepping out of his son’s room.

“Jack, you really scared her. You know you’re supposed to come out when you’re called, right?” Aaron’s firm voice filled the kitchen moments later.

Jack glanced at you as if feigning confusion. As you know him well, he was obviously thrilled with the chaos he caused. You sat beside him at the kitchen table, eyeing the little devil while you prepare your own food, listening to his father’s reprimand. Jack’s legs swung back and forth under the table, excitedly munching on a sandwich wrap you made for his lunch.

“I was just hiding, Dad. It’s hide and seek, that’s what I’m supposed to do.” Jack’s small brows furrowed like his father’s as he looked down at his plate.

“Yes, I know, buddy,” A soft sigh rang audible through the line. “But it’s just a game, you can’t hide so well that no one can find you. It’s important to keep everyone safe, especially when I’m not there.”

Jack’s lower lip jutted out even further. “But that’s the point of the game, Dad. Players need to hide well.”

“Yes, buddy, but what I’m saying is…” Aaron sighed again, struggling to weave a perfect explanation for his son. “Everything fun should be done in moderation. You scared her, and me, because we thought something bad happened to you.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Thank you, buddy, but I don’t think I’m the one you should be apologizing to. You made her worry.”

“I...” Jack stopped chewing, looking at you with wide, innocent eyes. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to win.”

The scolding seemed to have hit its mark, and you reached over, ruffling the little guy’s hair. “It’s okay, honey. Just don’t hide so well next time, alright?”

Jack stared at you and nodded solemnly, but then his pout deepened. “Dad grew his beard. I don’t like it.”

You suppressed a smile, glancing at the phone where you could see Aaron’s face on the screen. Despite the grainy connection, you can see the dark shadow of a beard on his jawline. 

Aaron chuckled at what he heard, the sound of his deep voice humorous. “I had to, buddy. It’s hard to shave here every day.”

Jack shrugged as he took a big bite of his food. “You look like a bear.”

“What?!” Aaron said incredulously.

“You should shave, Dad. We’re gonna look like Masha and the Bear when you come home.”

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh, shaking your head.

Only if you were asked, you’d say how the full beard really absolutely suited Aaron. Now he looked rugged— a stark contrast to his usually neat and well-kept appearance. Regardless, he seemed to look even more handsome and manly. And God, he looks so fucking hot he should be put behind the bar.

But well, it’s a good thing no one bothered asking your opinion; how are you supposed to answer in front of a kid, anyway?  

You’ve always admired this man, that’s for sure. He and his neatly ironed suits, clean-cut hair, and authoritative nature had always been an incredible sight to look at— but this new look?

This.

This makes you think of lewd things in broad daylight.

“Well, buddy your best friend doesn’t seem to mind it,” Aaron caught your eye through the screen, a small smile playing on his lips. 

Crimson red dusted on your cheeks with the teasing, but you managed to smile back. “Uhuh, it’s not so bad, Jack. Maybe you’ll get used to it.”

Jack scrunched his nose but didn’t argue any further. Instead, he picked up his sandwich again and took a big bite. You shook your head in amusement, holding Aaron’s gaze on the screen briefly before you had to look away because...

That damn fucking beard.

“Alright, I also have to grab some dinner now,” Aaron said after a few beats of silence. “Jack, be good for her, okay? She might run away if you continue scaring her. We don’t want that, do we?”

Jack nodded, still chewing. “Okay, Dad. No more.”

“I love you, buddy.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

“And you,” Aaron’s voice softened even more as he addressed you, a soft crinkle present in his eyes. “Thank you. For everything.”

You could only nod, and smile, and look away as your heart pounded against your chest. “No worries. Keep safe, Mr. Hotchner.”

He gave you one last look, his eyes filled with warmth and something you couldn’t decipher, before the call disconnected. With a sigh, you looked back at Jack, who was already reaching for a second sandwich wrap, mumbling about how his father would soon end up like Hagrid.

The soft click echoed in the quiet house as you closed the door behind you. You slipped off your high heels, groaning and wincing in pain, before dropping your keys into the bowl on the console table. The house feels emptier than usual, with Jack spending the night at his Aunt Jessica’s. It was a setup that she and Aaron agreed on before; to let Jack stay overnight every Friday and go home by the afternoon the next day.

As you make your way down the hallway, it doesn’t escape your notice that the kitchen lights are open. You weren’t expecting anyone to be home, not at this late hour anyway, and the sight stopped you in your tracks. Burglar was your first thought.

So naturally, you took several tentative steps closer, peeking around the corner.

Surprise flickered across Aaron’s features as he noticed you, quickly masking it with a strained smile. He was standing by the kitchen island, a half-finished bottle of brandy open.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice rougher than how you remembered months ago, “I didn’t know you’d be back so soon.”

“I should say the same to you.”

You had no idea he’s coming home today. His travel-worn face was illuminated by the warm kitchen light; a glass of amber liquid swirls in the rock glass in his hand. While his eyes were shadowed with something unreadable, never leaving yours. 

You manage a small smile in return, though it feels heavy. “But yeah, the date ended earlier than expected.”

Not just the date but your entire evening hadn’t gone as planned, and you can still feel the weight of disappointment tugging at your shoulders.

Aaron nodded but didn’t say anything about it.

Silence settled between the two of you. His eyes flickered to the drink in his hand, while he took a slow sip, as if buying time. You didn’t dare glance away as you stepped further into the kitchen, leaning against the counter in front of him.

“I didn’t know you’d be home today. How was your trip?” you asked, genuinely curious but also eager to fill the void.

He shrugged, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “Busy. Tiring. The usual.” His gaze returned to you, lingering a moment too long. “You okay?”

The concern in his voice was unmistakable. You nodded, but the gesture also felt hollow. “Yeah, just... you know, one of those nights.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened slightly, and he looked away, staring into his glass. “Want to talk about it?”

You hesitated, not sure if you’re ready to unpack the disappointment just yet, and also considering the fact that he must be tired from his flight. But there’s something in Aaron’s presence that you always found comforting, you just had to go on.

“Maybe later,” you said softly, wandering your eyes around until it landed on the wine shelf. “Can I join you?”

He nodded without hesitation, watching you in silence as you grab a bottle of wine from the rack. Aaron’s eyes met yours again as you settled back, and for a moment, something flickered in their depths— something that makes your heart skip a beat.

Aaron’s eyes were focused on you as you set the bottle on the counter and reach for the corkscrew. The maroon silk of your dress catches the light; it was a simple one, nothing too flashy nor revealing. Just enough to accentuate your figure and compliment your skin well. You don’t understand why heat licked your neck as you became aware of Aaron’s eyes lingering on you.

With a soft pop, the cork comes free, and you pour yourself a generous amount. You took your own seat on the barstool. And with your slow movements, the maroon dress clings to your form, highlighting your curves in a way that makes Aaron’s breath catch.

He tried to look away, but his apprehensive eyes kept returning to you.

“There’s a practice game this Sunday. Jack will be happy to know you’ll be watching,” you cleared your throat, eyes focused on the alcohol swirling around the clear glass.

Aaron took a slow sip of his drink, trying to collect his thoughts, but his gaze kept drifting back to you. The dress, with its silky sheen and soft drape, made you look not just elegant but breathtakingly sexy- a fact that Aaron is finding increasingly hard to ignore.

“Yeah, I’m planning to surprise him tomorrow. Maybe we can pick him up early from Jess? Then we can grab a lunch outside.”

You gave him a smile. “Sure, sounds nice.”

As you settled deeper into the conversation, your attention narrowed down to Aaron. He’s leaning against the marble counter, the soft kitchen light casting a warm glow on him. His beard was slightly thicker than you remember, giving him an almost roguish look that you couldn’t help but find incredibly attractive. And hot.

He’s so hot.

He was clad in one of his work shirts, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms. The shirt fits him well, emphasizing his broad shoulders and the hint of muscle underneath. Even the veins running through the surface of his arm were visible. 

The sight makes your heart flutter, and you found yourself admiring the way he looked tonight, with a brandy glass cradled in his big, calloused hand. You wonder how it would feel to have those strong hands grip you tightly, his fingers playing with your pussy, his lips on your neck.

“So,” Aaron’s voice snapped you out of your reverie, “how was the date?”

You took a sip of your drink, the question making your chest tighten again, but you answered lightly. “It was... okay, I guess? Not what I anticipated, though.”

His eyes are on your face, but they keep flickering to your dress, tracing the line of your collarbone, the soft curve of your shoulder. “What happened?”

“He was nice and all… but I don’t know…” Aaron nodded as you struggled recalling the events of evening, and you can tell he wants more details. “It’s just awkward, as always.”

“Did you go anywhere special?”

“We went to that new Italian place downtown. Dave said the food was great so I wanted to try…” you swirl the wine in your glass, watching the dark liquid catch the light. The movement makes the dress shimmer, and Aaron’s gaze follows the motion, almost mesmerized. “I just thought it’d be better, you know? It’s our third date, anyway.”

Aaron’s gaze softened, and he took a sip of his drink. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. Well, that’s what happens, I guess,” You smiled, feeling a bit more at ease.

“Yeah,” his eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence, the tension from earlier slowly dissipating. Aaron’s eyes lingered on you before finally, he spoke again, his tone light but his curiosity evident. 

“Did he at least appreciate the dress? You look... incredible tonight.”

A blush warmed your cheeks, making you giggle to yourself. “He did compliment it, but I don’t think he noticed much beyond that.”

“He’s an idiot then,” Aaron said quickly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Then he looked down, a hint of embarrassment coloring his features. “I mean, it’s a beautiful dress, and it suits you really well.”

The compliment made your smile grow wider.

“You’re looking pretty good yourself,” your cheeks heat up as quickly as you realize what you’ve just said, but you don’t think you have to take it back. “Pakistan’s that rough?”

“You could say that,” Aaron’s eyes flickered with surprise and a touch of pleasure. He straightened slightly, a small, almost bashful yet equally beautiful smile playing on his lips. “I’m pretty sure Jack will volunteer to shave this beard off.”

“But it suits you…” you murmured mostly to yourself, your eyes tracing the line of his jaw and the way the beard added a certain depth to his features. “He’s just teasing you.”

Aaron chuckled, running a hand through his hair, a gesture that draws your attention to the subtle flex of his muscle. “Yeah? I wasn’t sure if it was too much.”

“No, it’s perfect,” you replied, your voice softening. “Makes you look... distinguished.”

He took a slow sip of his brandy, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken, and you find yourself caught in the moment, drowning in his presence and the wetness slowly pooling in between your thighs.

“So you like it?”

Oh, you love it. “Yes.”

Aaron stepped a little closer, settling beside you as you glanced up at him from your seat. The scent of his perfume, mixed with the subtle hint of brandy, filled your senses. His eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

“Tell me about your date,” he said, his tone teasing, but there was an edge of something more in his eyes.

“There’s not much to tell,” you said with a laugh, your voice catching slightly. “It was just... dull and boring.”

“Dull? How so?”

“Just…” you bit your lip lightly, shaking your head as you smiled up at him. “You know.”

“I can’t say I know, doll. Use your words.”

Your heart raced but you didn’t look away. Instead, you stared back at him with the same intensity, blinking through your eyelashes almost innocently. “He… he doesn’t make me feel like you do.”

A beat.

Your heart drummed wildly against your ears.

And Aaron’s eyes darkened with the invitation.

“And how do I make you feel, angel?” he whispered softly.

“Like you actually want me.”

“Which I fucking do,” he leaned in, his breath slowly mingling with yours. “More than you know.”

Aaron’s hand moved to your waist, his touch light but possessive. Your heart pounded wildly as you stared into his eyes.

“Show me then,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed, your lips just a hair’s breadth away from his.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly slow and deliberately teasing way.

“Aaron...” you whined, your voice heavy with need. “Please...”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t k-know…”

His grip tightened on your hips, his voice rough and demanding. “I think you’re lying, pretty girl.”

“Aaron...”

“I said,” he asked again, gruffly this time. “What do you want?”

“Want your m-mouth on me, Aaron, please...”

A quick swipe of his tongue wetted his lower lip, and a satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Good girl.”

His hand tightened on your waist, drawing you even closer. And all you knew from that second is the feeling of his hot breath against your skin.

“Aaron-” a low growl rumbled from his chest as your fingers tangled through his hair, pushing him even closer to your dripping cunt. “Tha- God, that feels good…”

Aaron hummed lightly, running the calloused pad of his palm on the soft surface of your thighs, feeling the bumps rising on your skin along with your pleasure. He darted his eyes to your face with his mouth still on your cunt, his lips nibbling your clit, watching you breathe heavily while containing the whine caught right in your throat.

When you propped onto your elbow and met his gaze, you could barely register the drunk look on his eyes.

“I’m c-close…” you whispered, pleadingly so. “Aaron… please…”

You didn’t have to say anything else. The contrast between the softness of his lips and the coarseness of his beard creates a heady, intoxicating burn. The rough graze of his beard against your inner thigh sent shivers down your spine, making you arch your back, forcing yourself closer to his mouth, to his touch; even closer to his heat.

You have never been treated this way– never had a partner who takes pleasure in pleasuring you. The warmth of Aaron’s breath fanned through your clit as he licked and prod his tongue on your entrance, feeling the burning scrape of his stubble with every movement. It’s both gentle and painful, enough to make your skin tingle and your heart race; chasing the heightening pleasure and your incoming orgasm.

“So good, doll…” he whispered roughly, encouragingly, his attention focused only at you. “Fuck, it’s so hot.”

He leaned away only for a moment, straightening his back as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt. In the blink of an eye, the sight of his muscular chest and soft stomach salivated you. You’ve known he’s hairy, but now that you saw the dark trail of hair on his abdomen down to his…

Aaron looked smug.

“Dirty girl, like what you’re seeing?”

You hummed hoarsely. “Want you, please. D-daddy?”

Aaron groaned at your words. And you noticed how his palm flew to the obvious bulge on his pants, squeezing his aching cock as if your words hurt him. Or pleased him, you don’t know. All you registered was the faint satisfaction in his smile and the glint of hunger in his piercing eyes.

He ran his palm on your thighs lovingly. “Cum on Daddy’s mouth first. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Although he posed that as a question, you knew it was an order. And who are you to defy him when he generously licked through your folds and sucked on your clit like a starved man? He’s not devouring you like relinquishing his final meal; instead, like you are the very first meal he ever tasted and cannot get enough of. He eats you like someone will take you away from him. But even if they do, he wants to make sure it’s his mouth and big cock you’ll crawl back to.

The world seemed so far away as you let yourself drown in the pleasure, all while Aaron occasionally fucks his tongue in and out of your needy cunt.

“Close, angel?” he asked before spitting on your pussy and swirling his tongue on your clit. “You taste like heaven, baby.”

You nodded dumbly.

“You’ve no idea how many nights I fucked my fist to this thought.”

Your release inched closer, roused by his deep groans and heavy breathing. You were not even past the vulgar image of him spitting on your cunt when you felt one of his fingers gently swiping through your wetness, his touch light as a ghost, and you shuddered as you realized what will come next.

You gasped and moaned, and grabbed a fistful of his hair on both of your hands. “Need you n-now, please… enough…”

“Just one, angel. Just give me one on my tongue,” he demanded, his eyes dark with need. “You can do that for Daddy, right baby? I’ll fuck you good later, I promise.”

You clenched around his finger as he slowly slid into you, then out, slowly gaining rhythm and speed that reflected your racing heart. He thrust in and out, and in and out, until he decided you could take another finger, then another one. You’ve never felt so full, but good God if you say you didn’t fantasize about getting fingerfucked by your boss, you’d be sent to hell for lying.

He nibbled. He sucked. He licked. His fingers never once stopped assaulting your wet, squelching cunt. With every drag of his fingers and swipe of his tongue, you could hear a deep growl rumbling through his chest. And his eyes watched you, taking in the way you writhe in pleasure, the way your thighs tremble, and how your eyes welled in tears.

“Please… p-please…” you whimpered pathetically, your fingers tightening on his hair. “C-close, ‘m so close… daddy…”

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Come on, be a good girl.”

“D-daddy!” you screamed loudly when his teeth grazed your now sensitive clit.

“Fucking cum for me. Make me proud, angel.”

Your eyes rolled at the back of your head as your orgasm ripped through you. His words grew distant as it happened, showering you still with lewd praises: how good you taste, how warm and tight your cunt would be, and how he expects you to take his big cock.

“S-stop… A-” you trashed away from his grip. “Too m-much. D-daddy, no! Stop! S-stop! Too much!”

His fingers continued abusing the sensitive nerves deep inside you, groaning loudly as your walls tightened around him. “A little more, sweet girl. One more for Daddy…”

“N-no–” Tears slid down your cheeks in overstimulation, feeling the rough drag of his fingers inside your tight cunt and his lips on your clit. “Oh, g-god! I’m close again… D-daddy! Don’t s-stop, p-please!”

“Good girl, angel. Look at you... that’s it, baby.”

He trailed wet kisses along your skin as he moved upward, kneading your tits, lingering a bit longer on your hardened nipples. You haven’t gone down from your last orgasm when you already felt the tip of his cock prodding at your pulsating cunt.

You whimpered weakly, not fully aware of your surrounding anymore.

“Hey, hey…” you heard Aaron whisper, his voice soft and gentle, caressing your face lovingly as he observed your expression. “Good? Do you want to stop, sweetheart?”

You shook your head. “I will kill you if you stop.”

“Ah,” he let out a hoarse chuckle. “Yes, Ma’am.”

His pace was slow at first, achingly so and deliberate. But it didn’t last long. From laying on your back on the cold, marble kitchen counter, you found yourself bent over on the kitchen table, with Aaron’s girthy cock ramming in and out of your cunt. And all you could do was take it, moaning loudly to Aaron’s satisfaction.

“Fucking hell. Should’ve fucked this pussy long before–” he rambled deeply from behind, pistoling his hips at a brutal pace. “You like this, huh? You like Daddy fucking your tight pussy?”

You bit your thumb as your legs trembled, but you didn’t answer.

And that’s when you felt it.

A harsh slap on your ass.

“Answer me, you fucking slut,” he drawled in between heavy breaths. “Did I fuck you dumb, huh?”

“Y-yes–” you struggled to say, trying to keep your legs steady amidst the intense waves of pleasure. “G-good… so much…”

Aaron barked an amused laugh. “Fuck. You sound so cockdrunk.”

With each thrust, you felt the familiar coil tightening on your stomach. Your words were muffled as you tried to warn him, and all that came out of your lips was a high-pitched whimper. 

Aaron’s grip on your hips hardened. “I’m c-close. Where should I cum, angel? Inside? Should I cum inside?”

“C-close…” you echoed mindlessly, not understanding a word he said.

“Do you want me to fuck a baby inside you?”

“Yes… y-yes… inside, Daddy, please....”

Tears streamed down your cheeks when you felt Aaron’s hot cum spill inside you, his thick cock throbbing. You trembled against him as you reached your own climax, your lips drawn to a silent scream as he expertly rubbed your clit through your orgasm.

“One more. Can you give Daddy one more, sweet girl?” you heard him whisper encouragingly.

With a strained moan and eyes shut tight, you finally let out a gush of release. The force was so sudden Aaron had to pull out and watch his own cum drip down your thighs. His eyes widened a fraction as he stared at the pool of wetness glistening on his kitchen floor.

And fucking hell, that felt so good.

Aaron didn’t waste a second and quickly knelt behind you, separating your weak and trembling legs carefully before running his tongue on your spent and dripping cunt. You shivered at the feeling of his beard scratching the back of your thigh but you let him, enjoying the feeling of his tongue following the trail of his own release that drips down your legs.

“Too m-much, Aaron. Please…” you plead softly, sighing as you felt his fingers spread out your pussy.

“Just a taste, angel. Can you push out more of my cum?”

He keened and hummed as he gathered his own release on his tongue. And before you even know it, he was already kissing you, watching his own cum and spit reach your waiting tongue as you innocently glanced up at him, a far-gone look on your face.

“You’re such a sweet girl,” he whispered later on as he gently laid you down on his warm bed, now wrapped in his old, oversized t-shirt and newly bathed.

He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, and cheeks, then nose, before kissing you lovingly on the lips. “Rest now, sweetheart. I’ll take you on a proper date tomorrow.”

For tag list request, here.

Your girl finally got her energy back after taking 4 pills of Vitamin B. LOL. Sorry for the long wait! Anyway, as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated. Hope you're having an incredible day and drink your water! (PS. Do you guys know I just realized I can reblog your reblogs with comments? I'm so dumb.)

Tags: @kimstills @readergf @downbad4reid @gghostwriter @elhotchner @pastelpinkflowerlife @the1boss @roseydoesypoesy @khxna @hangmanscoming @apollolynx98 @its-just-me-chey

[kajalfilms]

An earthquake measuring 6 6 magnitude struck several countries including...

[tiredwitchplant]

Everything You Need to Know About Crystals: Peridot

Peridot (The Tears of Pele)

*Yes Peridot from Steven Universe is here. She demanded to be added okay!?

Color:  Olive Green to Yellow-Green

Rarity: Easy to Obtain, Harder to higher quality

Hardiness:  6.5 – 7

Type: Orthorhombic (Gem form of Olivine)

Chakra Association: Heart and Solar Plexus

Angels: Achaiah or Raphael

Deities: Pele and Isis

Birthstone: August

Astrological Signs: Leo, Libra, Gemini, and Capricorn

Element: Earth

Planet: Venus and the Sun

Origin: Brazil, Hawaii, Myanmar, Egypt, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, USA

Powers: Purification, Cleansing, Wealth, Happiness, Prosperity, Protection

Crystals It Works Well With: Rutilated Quartz, Rose Quartz, Sunstone, Carnelian, Tourmaline, and Citrine

How It is Created: Peridot is the gemstone variety of olivine, a mineral made up of magnesium, iron and silicate compound. The higher proportions of magnesium and iron are used to identifying the key features in the gem, while the chromium and nickel impurities contribute to its beautiful green color. Some specimens of peridot can even appear in meteorites called pallisites and found during volcanic activity on the island of Oahu in Hawaii.

History: The Egyptians mined peridot on the island of Zebirget, which is located in the Red Sea. Egyptians used the gem for over 4,000 years and was even said to be Cleopatra’s favorite. It is regarded as a sacred stone during Medieval times and was even used in the design of the Shrine of the Three Kings in Germany. Peridot crystals found in the black volcanic sands of Hawaii are said to be the tears of the Goddess, Pele. Now most of the world’s peridot comes from Arizona or Pakistan.

What It Can Do:

Keep away evil spirits and great for protecting aura

Releases and neutralizes toxins on all levels

Purifies the subtle and physical body and mind

Opens, cleanses, and activates the heart and solar plexus chakra to release “old baggage”

Clears the feelings of burden, guilt, and obsession

Guides you to better influences

Alleviates jealousy, resentment, spite, anger and stress.

Enhances confidence and assertion without aggression

Sharpens the minds and opens it to new levels of awareness

Banishes lethargy, bringing to your attention all things you have neglected

Is said to heal and regenerate tissues and strengthen the metabolism

How to Get the Best Out Of: Peridot works best near the throat area and heart area of your body so a peridot pendant or necklace would be best.

How to Cleanse and Charge: Cleanse using smoke or running it over water. Charge it by placing it under a windowsill during a full moon.

Talisman:

Social Media Talisman

Peridot ring, worn on the hand you scroll with

Chalice

Moon water

1 small piece fresh or dried valerian root

1 fresh lemon slice

Cleanse and empower your ring with the ability to dispel feelings of envy and inadequacy.

Gather your materials in a sunny area during a waning moon.

Fill the chalice with moon water.

Take the valerian root in your hand and hold it in the direct sunlight.

Say, “Valerian root that calm sting, add self-assurance to my ring.” Visualize it absorbing the sun and pulsing with a gentle, light. Place it in the chalice.

Hold the lemon slice up to the sun, feeling the illumination and bright energy coming from it.

Say, “Bright yellow lemon with a bite, filter that which befalls my sight.”

Squeeze the lemon slice so the juice goes into the chalice.

Now the chalice holds a soothing brew imbued with calm from the valerian, confidence from sunlight, and optimistic realism from the lemon.

Put the peridot ring in the chalice and let it sit in the sun for about an hour.

Retrieve your peridot ring from the chalice and wear it. Pour the water into the earth.

The ring help ground you in reality while filtering your impressions of what you consume on social me protecting your self-confidence and dispelling any feelings of jealousy or inadequacy.

Perform this spell in direct sunlight, if possible, to illuminate the truth and soothe uncertainty. If you don’t have a chalice, use a bowl, or any kind of cup. Moon water is water that has been left outdoors under the full moon to absorb its power.

Sources

[i-cant-sing]

Oh man, there's just something about weddings- no matter what religion/country, that each have their certain features that is just oh so endearing and I'd just love to have it all😭

Okay, so take Hindu weddings. There's a lot of things to love, but my fav? The sindoor, because it's just so so intimate and like- some people say that if some of that red powder falls on your nose, it means that your husband loves you very much 😭😭😭😭 oh not to mention, I saw some guy touching his forehead with his brides to apply the sindoor and I just- 🫠

Then take Muslim weddings, and like yes, indo obviously love the whole "mehr" thing, but it's always so adorable to see what the bride asks for her mehr (which is often money, but not always. Some brides ask for a kitten, a trip, or even a verse from Quran)🩷🩷🩷 and also the first halal hug- oh its just so heartwarming to see the way the groom embraces his bride in his arms with the utmost carr, maybe a peck on the forehead if they're into PDA.

And then there's catholic weddings, where they do the vows- "in sickness and in health" omg😭 and and the bride wearing something "blue, borrowed" etc that's cute too- BUT ALSO THE "ANYONE HAS ANY OBJECTIONS?" omg I would die if some (handsome and wanted) guy did actually object to my matrimony.

But apart from religious weddings, I also love everyone's traditions- I saw a video of Hunza people in Pakistan, where the couple make rotis (bread) together to signify the bond of their relationship- teamwork.

I know some of u guys would LOVE this- in Roma weddings, the guy kidnaps the girl of his liking (as far as I know, the guy already has the blessings and permission from the girl's parents) and then after negotiations, a wedding happens.

*gasps* I JUST REMEMBERED when I was little I used to watch Indian soap dramas and I was so jealous when I found out that not everyone does that ceremony where there's a bowl of milk with rose petals in it, and they drop a ring in it for the bride and groom to find and whoever finds it first, will mean that that person will be more dominant in the relationship- and EVERY SINGKE TIME THE GUY WOULD FIND THE RING FIRST BUT DISCREETLY PASS IT TO HIS WIFE SO THAT SHE COULD BE THE WINNER ONGGGGG

And then the Arab countries just practically frowning the bride in gold and money... I like that very much.

Wait omg I remember that Pakistanis have these GRAND welcome for the new bride in their home. I mean, first the groom brings her home in a fancy car or something, then the entire house is lit up with fairy lights and then they do FIREWORKS 😭😭

And in Indian, Pakistani, Bengali weddings, there's the henna tattoo ceremonies, and I love that so much, maybe because I grew up watching bollywood and desi shows, so I'm just gonna say they have amazing weddings.

*sniffle* I get it- I get why women dream of their weddings all their life.

[dingodad]

the ext. zodiac is DEFINITELY bullshit (they literally try to relate trolls signs to sburb aspects which is so stupid its funny) but i think that it makes more sense to just go off-zodiac entirely since, in-comic kanaya equates trollsigns to names / signatures. and i dont really think it makes sense at all for an entire interplanetary empire to have only 144 available names

i think highbloods just place a LOT of value in genetic lines, and since signs are like lastnames to them they get really fascist about people who might be related to them

basically; ext zodiac is horseshit but thats why i think going off of it is fun

i don't really know what you're referring to other than the part where kanaya seems to assume rose's signature is her sign but the idea that trolls sign their names using their signs is not really a deal breaker to me.

i mean literally look at 'RL' as an example. there are only 325 possible combinations of 2 letters, which is not nearly enough combinations to possibly make 'RL' a useful signifier of one specific individual. because a signature is only one in a list of ways to authenticate a document. even in the real world putting your signature on a document is only really meaningful if someone else witnessed the signing of the document, because there are only so many ways to sign your name, and it's ultimately just a little drawing that anyone else on earth could easily copy if they really wanted to. or like, picture an aristocrat's signet ring, which could be even closer to what we are talking about here. it puts a picture on the document that is supposed to represent the authenticity of the aristocrat's contribution. but if you really wanted, you could copy the picture. and maybe once upon a time - working with a certain level of primitive technology - it would even have worked, but even there you're still ultimately going to have to fall back on the word of certain reliable witnesses, because the signet itself is just representative of something that is inherently more complex.

this is basically how the whole concept of a last name works too. if you want to be especially crafty, instead of just signing with your two initials you could sign with your whole last name, and on the town or city level that might work to distinguish you from all the other Johns or all the other Smiths. but as soon as you scale up to the level of an entire country, let alone an entire planet, it becomes totally useless, and you're always going to have to supplement your first+lastname with some additional information about yourself, like your date of birth. let's think to the most populous countries on earth, where surnames are more monocultural than we're likely to be familiar with in the world's english-speaking countries (and therefore are probably a closer analogue to uniquely-alternian cultural signifiers): something like 8% of people in China have the surname Yang! that's damn close to one in every 10 people you know having the same last name. the name Khan enjoys a similar level of popularity in Pakistan. to say nothing of all the Nguyens in Vietnam: it could be argued that in some respects a system whereby all members of the same caste have an equal 1 in 24 chance to have the same sign - and almost no chance at all to have the same first and last names! - is a hell of a lot more efficient than a lot of the family name systems we've got here on earth!

is 144 a bit on the small side when scaled up to an empire whose indeterminately large population spans almost to the edges of a galaxy? i'm willing to say yes. but even if you make it 244, or 544, or 1044 unique signs, there's going to be double ups, because it's never going to be enough for every living troll to get a sign all to themself. and hiveswap doesn't have to account for an entire galactic empire's worth of trolls, it only has to account for a couple hundred at a stretch! so it should use an alphabet of signs that suits a cast of a couple hundred. obviously for design purposes it makes complete sense that main or named characters all get their own unique signs - but if the rules dictate that sometimes trolls will share a sign, then the background trolls should reflect that reality! or else you're just breaking the rules of your own setting for the sake of upholding what is, in-universe, arbitrary fascist mythology, exactly like i said.

you also have to remember that, as i've already emphasised, the VASTTTT MAJORITYYYY of trolls in this galaxy-spanning empire are gonna be lowbloods, who don't buy into this mythology! so there isn't even a solid lore reason why lowbloods should have more signs to avoid double ups. and i think the comic already gives us a pretty clear image of the way lowbloods are cast aside by the grandiose conventions of alternian identity, in the fact that highbloods are remembered by such distinguished titles as "Spinneret Mindfang" and "Dualscar" and "Darkleer", and yet even the most significant scumbloods in alternian history are just "The Summoner" or "The Handmaid" or "The Sufferer". these names have significance to us, the readers, but in the context of thousands of years and thousands of lightyears of history there's no damn way there was only ever one "The Disciple" or one "The Signless". and while I do understand quite clearly that the concerns of the reader should always outweigh in-universe concerns when it comes to matters of design or writing, in this case i think it would actually be MORE effective storytelling to treat signs the same way. while it would seem significant to US if another troll, unrelated to tavros or rufioh, appeared wearing a Taurus, it would also serve to communicate that all of the sign shit the readers have been buying into this whole time was nonsense, and i think in this case that's the more important message

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Sixty Six

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi besties <3

As always, the love for this version of them means the entire world. You're probably going to yell at me for this one too...and again, I deserve it.

-x-

Words: 2.1k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He still wasn’t used to the heat. The humidity was almost oppressive at times, making it almost impossible to concentrate. 

Emily had told him he’d struggle, her smile teasing as she bought him linen clothes he’d frowned at, the thin and floaty material a far cry from his usual sharp-edged suits. She’d said that he’d need them, that she knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t cope with the weather in Pakistan, and she’d been right. 

Everywhere he went he pictured her, imagined her pale skin slowly tanning, her dedication to sunscreen unlike anything he’d ever known. He imagined her hair curling in the humidity, the volume she hated but he loves slowly getting out of control. She seemed at home everywhere she went, always easily adapting to her surroundings, a hangover of her childhood he knows she hates. 

He missed her. He missed his family. The short phone calls and emails he exchanged with his wife were not enough. The pictures of the kids that she would send would make him ache, guilt and irritation he could only aim inwards blooming in his gut every time. 

He’d already been here for two months, and was already closing in on the original deadline he’d given his superiors on when he’d like to go home, but he knew that they wanted him here longer. Any conversation he had about him leaving, about the handover he’d already written up, was skirted around, his boss waving him off like they had months to go. 

He just wanted to go home, to kiss his wife, to hug his children. And he was close to just doing it anyway, consequences be damned. 

He blows out a breath when he hears his satellite phone ring and he lifts it from its holster on his belt, pulling up the antenna as he answers it, “Hotchner.” 

“Hotch, it’s JJ.” 

His heart drops into his stomach the moment he hears her voice, worst-case stealing the breath from his lungs. No one other than Emily had called him since he’d come here, the number was need to know, but he knew his wife had given it to her friend for emergencies. 

“JJ, what’s wrong?” He demands, his grip on the phone tight, his jaw clenched as he tries to reason with himself, trying to assure himself that he’s overreacting. 

JJ sighs, her voice soft, almost too kind as it comes down the line, “It’s Emily. There’s been an accident.” 

___

Two Days Earlier

Emily carefully pulls the door to the nursery shut behind her, grateful when she’s met with silence afterwards, Lily having finally fallen asleep. 

She yawns as she walks down the hall and towards the stairs, rolling her neck as she goes. Once she gets to the living room she frowns when Jack isn’t where she’d left him when she took Lily to bed, the TV paused on the movie she’d put on for him and his toys abandoned. 

She feels a moment of panic flash through her, the reality of balancing two young children by herself something she felt like she was constantly failing at. Before Aaron left for Pakistan, they’d take it in turns putting Lily to bed. When it was her turn, Aaron would make her a snack, a habit that had stuck from when she was still breastfeeding, and he’d watch a cartoon with Jack. When it was Aaron’s turn to put Lily to bed, Emily would snuggle with the little boy, her arm wrapped around him as she made sure he got some of her undivided attention. 

She missed having a partner in all of this, the reality of doing this herself wearing her down, her patience for her husband’s absence almost non-existent. She wanted him home, wanted to go back in time and tell herself to not let him go, to have him quit rather than deal with this. 

She knew she could cope without him, she had done for years before they met, but she didn’t want to. She loved having him with her, having his reassurance and love as her cornerstones, her already strong foundations she’d built alone made stronger by him, by their family. By the life they were building together. 

She had no interest in living life without him. 

“Jack,” she calls out, turning and leaving the living room as she looks for her stepson, “Where are you?” 

“In the kitchen,” he replies, and she frowns curiously as she follows his voice, relief washing over her when he sounds unharmed.. 

“What are you doing, honey? Are you okay…” she trails off as she walks into the kitchen, surprised by what she finds. 

Jack is sitting on the counter, one of the stools from the breakfast bar he’d clearly climbed on dragged over. There's a plastic Spiderman plate next to him with a peeled banana on it, the skin abandoned on the surface behind it. The banana has been torn into chunks, and she could picture him pulling it apart with his hands, the sticky residue he’d wiped onto his shirt the only evidence she needs. 

She smiles as she walks over to him and ruffles his hair, her smile getting wider as he leans into it, “I could have made you a snack if you wanted one.” 

“It’s not for me,” he says as he frowns, looking so much like Aaron it makes her ache, “It’s for you.” 

She feels her heart clench in her chest, the love she feels for this little boy wrapped tight around it like a vice, “What have you made me a snack for?” 

He shrugs, “Daddy always makes you a snack when you take Lily to bed,” he says as if it’s obvious, like it’s not the sweetest thing anyone has done for her in a long time, “I also made you some tea.” 

She snaps her head to where he’s pointing, panic that he’d somehow used the kettle overwhelming her until she sees the cup he’s talking about next to the fridge. There was no steam coming from it, and the tea bag was floating at the bottom, no hint that it had brewed at all, and she’d put money on him having used ice water from the fridge dispenser. 

She looks back at him and pulls him into a hug, adjusting her hold on him so she can lift him, placing him on her hip as she kisses his forehead, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, something that had become even more comforting to her since Aaron had left. She saw more and more of him everyday in Jack and Lily, their facial expressions and personalities giving her flashes of her husband. Tiny pieces of him that weren’t enough. 

“That’s so sweet of you, honey,” she says, kissing the side of his head again as she picks up the plate with the banana on it, “Why don’t you hold this and I’ll get my tea,” she says and he nods, carefully taking the plate from her, “And we’ll watch that cartoon together before you go to bed and we’ll share my snack.”

He frowns at her, tilting his head at her as she walks them back to the living room, “But I made it for you.” 

She kisses his head again, hoping she hides her wavering smile in the action, his endless empathy enough to tip her over the edge when she was at her best. 

“I know, but you can’t possibly expect me to eat all of this,” she says, smiling when he nods in agreement as she settles down on the couch. 

She drinks the freezing cold, flavourless tea and eats the half-mashed banana as Jack falls asleep against her, and she thinks it’s the best snack she’s ever had in her life. 

___

She was running late. 

She curses herself as she dumps her purse on the passenger seat of her car, and she groans when she sees the time. 

“Shit,” she mumbles to herself, pulling her seatbelt on as she dials the daycares number and turns on the engine, her phone on speaker as she abandons it on the seat next to her, impatient as she waits for the call to connect as she drives out of the Quantico parking lot. 

“Sunnyside Daycare, this is Alice.” 

“Alice, hi,” Emily says, breathing a sigh of relief, “It’s Lily Hotchner’s mom. I’m so sorry, a meeting overran and I’m only just leaving work, so I’m going to be late-”

“Mrs Hotchner, it’s fine,” Alice says kindly as she cuts her off, “Lily is currently playing happily and we’re here for another couple of hours. You’re fine.” 

Emily chuckles wryly and nods to herself, pulling the car to a stop at an intersection, the red light almost mocking her as it changes just as she approaches, “Thank you,” she replies, feeling calmer, “I always feel terrible when I’m late.” 

The meeting had been with Strauss of all people. She’d pulled her into her office just before she was due to leave, an expression on her face that let Emily know there was no arguing with her. At first, Strauss had simply asked her how she was doing, enquiring about Aaron’s absence in a way that felt almost uncharacteristically kind, although Emily was sure it was because the other women missed having Aaron as a buffer between herself and Dave. 

Then the conversation had taken a turn she really hadn’t expected. They’d had an interim Unit Chief of the Counterterrorism unit since Carson had been fired, but it had always been made clear that it was temporary until they found a suitable replacement. 

Strauss had asked Emily if she’d be interested in taking over the unit, citing both her specialism in linguistics, her work ethic and her robust record at the bureau. It had taken her by surprise, wondering how the woman who had once told her she’d never advance in the FBI was now offering her a promotion over people who’d been in the team longer than she had. 

She’d left without giving Strauss an answer, citing that she’d need to talk to Aaron, whenever she was next able to, before she could make any decisions. 

“No need to feel bad, Mrs Hotchner,” Alice assures her, “Lily is adorable, so we’ll never say no to a little extra time with her.” 

Emily laughs, her eyes flicking up to the red light as it changes to amber, “She is pretty cute, even if I do say so myself,” she says, smiling when the other woman laughs, “I’ll be about 30 minutes depending on traffic.” 

“See you soon,” Alice says and the call ends as the light turns green. 

Emily starts to drive, excited to see her little girl after a strange day at work, and wondering to herself if she’d get to call Aaron that night, if she could discuss the potential step forward in her career with the person whose opinion she valued the most.

She doesn’t notice the car that runs a red light on the other intersection until a second before it hits her. Time slows down as the metal of the car groans as it crumbles, loud scraping sounds as the passenger side where the other car hit disappears, taking the force of the other driver’s speed. She tries her best to control it, her hands tight on the steering wheel as the car spins. It must last only a matter of seconds, her head hitting the dashboard as she’s flung back and forth, held tightly in place by her seatbelt. 

When the car finally stops, she feels dizzy, the shouting outside the car, onlookers running over to help, sounds out of focus. Like it’s far away, trapped behind glass as she tries to move, a sharp pain from her right shoulder pinning her in place just as much as the crumpled metal around her. She places her left hand on her forehead and winces when she feels blood, her stomach churning as she pulls back and sees the grim red pattern against her skin, sinking into her finger tips and into the cracks of her nails, the cuticles torn open from anxiety caused by the absense of her husband. 

She starts to lose consciousness, shock setting in as people start to approach her car, and the last thing she thinks of is her family.

-x-

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[mariacallous]

Al Qaeda has set up nine new terrorist camps in Afghanistan in 2024, a sign of the Taliban’s increasing tolerance of terror groups in their backyard in spite of pledges to crack down, according to an Afghan resistance leader visiting Washington this week. 

“These are training centers; these are recruitment centers,” said Ali Maisam Nazary, the top diplomat for Afghanistan’s National Resistance Front (NRF) based in the country’s Panjshir Valley north of Kabul. “The Taliban have even allowed al Qaeda to build bases and munitions depots in the heart of the Panjshir Valley. [That’s] something unheard of, something impossible even in the 1990s for al Qaeda to have achieved.” 

Nazary said that since the fall of Afghanistan to the Taliban in August 2021, just before the complete withdrawal of U.S. troops from the country, terror groups including al Qaeda, the Islamic State’s Khorasan branch, Tehrik-e Taliban Pakistan (TTP), and the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan have exploded in size and scope, as the country’s unguarded borders have allowed foreign fighters from Arab countries, Central Asian neighbors, and Europe to pour into Afghanistan. Nazary said that 21 known terror groups are currently operating inside the country.

“We’re seeing all the lights are blinking red,” said Doug Livermore, a former U.S. Navy official and a member of the Special Operations Association of America. The United Nations believes that al Qaeda has training camps in at least 10 of Afghanistan’s 34 provinces, even as the Taliban publicly deny that the terror group has a presence in the country. 

The movement of al Qaeda forces into the Panjshir Valley—long a stronghold of the NRF—has been a shock to the resistance, which still controls about 60 percent of the area to the Taliban’s 40 percent, according to Nazary.

Al Qaeda leader Saif al-Adel has explicitly called for foreign fighters to migrate to Afghanistan and prepare to attack the West. The Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction, a U.S. government watchdog group, said in a July report that though the Taliban have targeted the Islamic State and some other groups, the fundamentalist organization has tolerated the presence of al Qaeda and TTP. 

Terror groups control much—if not all—of Afghanistan’s border, Nazary said. “Al Qaeda didn’t have any presence in northern Afghanistan in 2001,” he said. “Today, al Qaeda has a presence throughout the country, and the other terrorist forces.” The country has become an “open black market” of leftover weapons, many of them American, he added. 

“The Taliban is having the same problem that we did for 20 years,” Livermore said. “You can control the core, you can control the ring road—to an extent. But then once you start looking out from there, particularly in the east and some of that rough terrain, that seems to be where they [the Islamic State] have managed to establish a pretty solid base of operations.” 

Nazary described the relationship between the Taliban and terror groups as “ironclad,” suggesting the group had even provided passports to allow foreign terrorist fighters into the country. The same U.N. report in July said that the Islamic State’s Khorasan branch has facilitators in both Afghanistan and Turkey who can move terrorist fighters into Europe to conduct attacks. 

But some experts are doubtful that the NRF’s message will resonate in Washington. “They are refusing to acknowledge that it’s not 2001 anymore,” said Michael Kugelman, the director of the South Asia Institute at the Wilson Center in Washington. “They don’t recognize that, quite frankly, the U.S. and other Western capitals are not interested in getting dragged into a conflict in Afghanistan. There’s no interest in providing arms or money to anti-Taliban groups.”

U.S. intelligence officials are skeptical—at least publicly—about the extent to which Afghanistan could become a terrorist launching pad. The CIA remains in contact with the Taliban in an effort to stanch terror activities, the agency’s deputy director, David Cohen, said at a conference in Maryland on Wednesday, and he said that U.S. intelligence was able to tip Austrian authorities to an Islamic State threat against a planned Taylor Swift concert in Vienna earlier this month. 

“We have been engaging with them, all throughout this period, in various ways, as they have taken on the effort to combat both al Qaeda and ISIS-K,” Cohen said of the U.S. contact with the Taliban, using a common acronym for the Islamic State’s Khorasan branch. “And so this isn’t a ‘mission accomplished’ sort of thing. But it is worth noting that in Afghanistan today, the dire predictions have not come to pass.”

Kugelman said the NRF is trying to leverage growing U.S. concerns about terrorism risks stemming from Afghanistan and the Taliban’s harsh crackdown on women’s rights and perceived political opponents. But, he said, it doesn’t have the power to challenge the Taliban head-on.

“I do think that the NRF might perhaps overstate the dangers in Afghanistan, particularly when it comes to terrorism risks, in order to make a stronger case for support,” he said. “I’d also argue that at the end of the day, the Taliban really does not face any threat at all to its political survival.”

[salvadorbonaparte]

I was watching TV yesterday and they shared this "inspiring" story of this guy who travelled from Germany to Thailand by foot/bike/train etc for over 400 days to propose to his girlfriend and they made it seem like he's a low budget spontaneous backpacker but I have so many issues with the story

He mentioned he had his own company that he gave up to do this which already implies to me a level of economic stability most people don't have

A lot of the countries he travelled to require visas to be applied for well in advance and some of them are relatively expensive so either he planned this all in advance, travelled there illegally or like. Waited at the border for ages???

They then showed his engagement ring with six diamonds plus a big ass diamond he allegedly "found" in Pakistan???

Also if you want to propose to your long distance girlfriend just buy a plane ticket instead of taking over a year to arrive for a social media stunt??

[kchasm]

Ryu Number: Xerxes I

Xerxes I, also known as Xerxes the Great, was the ruler of the Achaemenid Empire from 486 BCE until his assassination in 465 BCE. At the time of his ascension to the throne, the Achaemenid Empire ran from the eastern end what's now Pakistan to the west end of what's now Turkey. You might notice that that's about the same amount of empire in about the same location as Alexander the Great had—that's because Alexander the Great was the guy who took over the Achaemenid Empire and made it not-so-Achaemenid anymore.

It was awful big, is what I'm saying.

But let's be honest: You probably know Xerxes I better as the Bad Guy with the nose ring in that one weird Spartan hagiography Gerald Butler was in. Fugging Miller.

Anyway, Xerxes I almost certainly has a Ryu Number of 2, and definitely not a Ryu Number more than 3, but there's some stuff.

The problem with finding a Ryu Number of Xerxes I is that 5th-century-BCE Persian monarchs don't show up in video games that often, for some reason. He makes a historical appearance in the Assassin's Creed Odyssey DLC Legacy of the First Blade...

...but unfortunately, Odyssey takes place too far after the times of myth and legend for anyone big enough to be a Minecraft skin in Greek-mythology-inspired DLC to show up.

It doesn't help, either, that in Assassin's Creed lore, all the "gods" were just members of a Precursor Race pretending to be gods, a la Stargate. No, that's not "Hera," that's a jerk Precursor Person who's taken on the identity of "Hera," all the better to lead mankind around like a clowder of schmucks. She's pretending to be Norse elsewhere. Don't fall for it.

(There's also A Minotaur, which feels like it ought to connect via that Minecraft skin pack, but if I'm understanding the Odyssey lore correctly—and I very well might not be; holler at me—the minotaur the player encounters isn't actually the Minotaur from the myth we know and love, but some random other guy who subsequently got his hands on the Precursor Technology that turns you into a minotaur. Yeah, everything is Precursor People in Assassin's Creed. It's kind of disappointing.)

Of course, you can still get to Xerxes through Odyssey if you want to—a handful of historical characters who don't have Minecraft skins show up—but you'll need an extra step. And if we're going to have an extra step anyway, I'm going to go for the route that doesn't need Assassin's Creed, partially because I haven't played the games yet but mostly because I'm still really disappointed about the Precursor People thing.

Which means, unfortunately, it's back to Miller.

I'll say this: For all that 300: March to Glory is Not A Very Good Video Game, it left me the impression that someone behind the scenes actually did the bare minimum research into the Greco-Persian Wars. Persian commanders Hydarnes and Mardonius make appearances (if only to provide something unique to hit), and Mardonius even survives the movie-equivalent events of the game until an epilogic, post-movie level that takes place during the Battle of Plataea—which is, indeed, where the historical Mardonius bit it. It's not much, but I had to watch the whole dang thing, so I'll take what I can get. Gets me more names for The Chart, besides.

As for connecting this game to Ryu, you can, of course, count on the Ol' Dependable of Games With Historical Figures:

...Or maybe you're not a fan of Anime And Things That Look Like Anime, in which case, try this, instead:

I'm not sure I can explain how weird Spartan: Total Warrior is—by which I'm referring to its existence more than anything in the game itself, though the content's pretty weird, too. For context, Total War is a series of strategy games featuring a combination of turn-based strategy, resource management, and real-time tactical control (so sayeth Wikipedia). There are a coupla Warhammer entries in the franchise, sure, but the vast majority of the games focus on real, historical campaigns and factions.

Spartan: Total Warrior, on the other hand, is a hack-and-slash that took one look at a history book and immediately took a pair of shears to it. The story starts in 300 BCE: The Roman Empire, led by Emperor Tiberius, has conquered almost the whole of Greece, with only Sparta remaining, and Leonidas leads his men into battle to oppose him. Later, the Romans reveal a superweapon powered by the imprisoned Medusa. Sejanus, Tiberius' right-hand man, is a powerful necromancer who kills and resurrects Castor's brother Pollux. One mission involves protecting Archimedes, leader of the Athenian resistance, from assassination.

To quote someone on Discord, this is a game supposedly set circa 300 BCE that "has one side led by a king who died 200 years before, and the other by an emperor who reigned 300 years after (never mind the fact that Rome was still a senatorial republic)." If you forced a too-serious historian to play this game they'd end up on the floor in a frothing heap of rage and/or despair (actually, someone should totally do that; I want to see the Greco-Roman history version of Jonathan Ferguson having to analyze the firearms of Team Fortress 2).

Oh yeah and Beowulf is there.

At some point you've got to appreciate—no, admire, even—the Xena:-Warrior-Princess-level decision to just Don't Worry About It.

And now that we have finished with the indisputable, let us proceed with the first of the hinky. Which is to say: Let's look at God of War: Chains of Olympus.

Chains of Olympus begins with an attack by the Persian navy on the Greek Attic peninsula (where Athens is, incidentally). The opening sequence features (among a whole lot of faceless Persian mooks) this prone-ish fella, who doesn't quite get to operating a ballista, irresponsibly leaving the work for Kratos instead.

(Credit: Migeman)

Inspecting the body after all the local ruckus is over identifies him as "Eurybiades," the "leader of the Athenian army."

Eurybiades was—according to historical record—a real person, though God of War doesn't exactly nail it on the head. Herodotus (who historians depend on more due to him being one of a Very Small Number of sources rather than anything to do with actual reliability) names Eurybiades as a Spartan who, during the second Persian invasion of Greece, was given command of the Greek navy due to some political whatuppery (the Spartans said that if a Spartan didn't lead it they'd be Awfully Uncooperative).

Following this bit, Kratos confronts the King of Persia (identity unspecified), who is apparently personally leading the invasion himself, which seems dumb but was apparently the norm back in those days. I bet we'd have a lot less wars if we made our Presidents actually serve on the front lines whenever they started feeling belligerent.

(Credit: Ibid.)

Anyway, Kratos kills the King of Persia, because if the King of Persia killed Kratos the game would be a lot shorter. Now, there's no watertight confirmation that this is the second Persian invasion—the first one also featured attempted Persian inroads into Attica, and was recent enough that it's not inconceivable for Eurybiades to have shown up, there, too—but if this is the second Persian invasion, and that is the King of Persia that was King of Persia during the second Persian invasion, then that King of Persia is Xerxes I.

And now, I think, you peer up at me, gaze beseeching. "But KC," you say, anxious and afraid, "Xerxes I didn't die during his invasion of Greece! After Greek victory at the Battle of Salamis, Persian forces were forced to withdraw from Attica, including Xerxes I himself, after which he focused on lavish construction projects until he was assassinated fifteen years later for unrelated reasons! He didn't die in the Greco-Persian Wars at all!"

To which I say: You know who else didn't die in the Greco-Persian Wars? Eurybiades. And you know who definitely didn't die in a fit of paranoid, obsessive overwork in the heart of a monumental statue of Apollo on the isle of Delos?

What I'm saying here is that God of War's relationship with historicality is fleeting at best, so maybe Don't Worry About It here, too.

(Incidentally, if it's the first Persian invasion of Greece that Kratos is mucking around in, then that king is actually Darius the Great, who also didn't die in Greece in real life. Darius is in Civilization V, though, so getting his Ryu Number is a lot easier.)

And speaking of Civilization, I've finally come to the shortest route I've found that, for all its likeliness, isn't as definite as I'd like, which is why I've saved it for last. You know how Civilization works, I think—you play a historical civilization (with a historical leader to match), and go up against other historical civilizations with their leaders. Like Darius, just now—he's your leader if you decide to play as the Persians.

Civilization III is like that...but unfortunately not as much like that as a fellow'd prefer. Sure, it's got its civilizations and leaders...

...But there's the occasional glaring unspecificity that's apparently there to make life difficult for me in particular. Yeah, sure, Montezuma here is most likely the second one—the one everyone knows, the one that had the real bad experience with Spain—but are you sure he isn't the first one instead? Like, absolutely sure? The instruction manual doesn't say, you know. How sure are you? Sure enough to bet a dollar? Two dollars? Fifty dollars? Your firstborn child? Why would I want your firstborn child, anyway? I don't want to look after a child; that's literally more work for me.

The Persian civilization exhibits the same problem here. Yeah, of course that's Xerxes I! If the team behind the game is picking out a historical figure named Xerxes to represent the Persians, it's got to be Xerxes I. But at the same time, there's technically nothing saying this isn't Xerxes II, a separate 5th-century-BCE Persian ruler of the Achaemenid Empire. I mean, it's terribly unlikely, seeing as Xerxes II ruled for 45 days before being killed by his half-brother, who ruled for six months before being killed by his half-brother, making him Not Exactly The Sort Of Individual You'd Put The Spotlight On, but Mahatma Gandhi and Joan of Arc are the leaders of Indian and French civilizations in this game, and that's weird, too. Gandhi was never the Prime Minister of India or anything like that, and Joan of Arc was a military leader, not a monarch.

Still, if you're willing to follow the reasonable assumption that the Xerxes here is Xerxes I, then the path that results is pretty dang optimal:

...If this is how you found out that Mahatma Gandhi is in Minecraft DLC, I'm sorry.

[menonlywrestling]

Canada vs Pakistan.

The Canadian muscle bears are due to face off against this regional champion Belt holding team from Pakistan.

The Canadians are big sexy dudes, and the ladies (and some of us men) love seeing them wrestle. Don't let the amazing bodies and good looks fool you, they're big strong lads and excellent wrestlers. Their Stable master loves having them as they're popular online and help raise the profile of their Stable. And they bring the crowds. $$$

The lads from Pakistan have a win/loss record of 35/0, and boy are they VICIOUS. They're not happy just winning matches, they like to do some damage to their opponents. Many end up getting stretchered off. If they get you outside the ring, it's all over.

[mlmxreader]

Happily Married | Alejandro Vargas x trans!m!reader

anonymous asked: This one is for our beloved alejandro vargas x pakitani!ftm reader where they are married and reader is a pilot and someone flirts with alejandro and its makes reader jealous with the prompt "I love seeing you get jealous" and "You're my sugar daddy, you can't say no to me"

summary: whilst on a date, someone flirts with Alejandro, and you're less than happy about it.

tws: sugar daddy relationships (nothing nsfw mentioned), swearing, jealousy, possessiveness

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

A small café in the middle of nowhere had seemed like a decent enough place to have a little date with your husband Alejandro, sharing earbuds as you listened to 'Krähen der Nacht' by Stahlmann. It was nice, quaint and private, away from everyone and anyone else.

It was better than being at the Los Vaqueros base, where Alejandro's men would flirt with you to no end, just to get a rise out of the Colonel; it was better than being at the Pakistan Air Force fields, where your fellow pilots would annoy him to no end about whether or not you were as good a husband as you were a pilot.

But there was more to yours and Alejandro's relationship than what people thought, as although you were quite happily married, he had agreed, since he earned the most money out of you both, to be your sugar daddy as well; it came naturally, a few months after you had been married, and you were happy with it.

Both of you were, and nothing much had really changed, except now Alejandro had more of an excuse to spoil you.

He loved to give you gifts, whether they were as small as a pen that he had found in a shop that made him think of you, or whether they were large, like the tickets to see Sabaton live, he loved to give you gifts that reminded you that he never stopped thinking of you when he was away.

He loved to see you in the new clothes he bought you on shopping trips, loved to see how you lit up when he told you how handsome you looked, such a sight always making his heart ache and melt for a moment as he looked at you so fondly; it never failed to make him fall in love with you all over again.

Time after time, he would always fall for you once again.

Being your sugar daddy as well as your husband came extremely naturally to him, and if anything, only gave him an excuse to see you light up and grin like that even more; but sat at that café, talking quietly and holding hands as you listened to the same music and drank coffee together, you couldn't deny that it was your turn.

His hair was slightly messy from where he had been at the gym earlier, head tilted slightly to the side and making the golden hour lights glitter in his dark brown eyes, his smile so fucking breathtaking that you couldn't stop yourself; all over again, for the umpteenth time, you were falling in love with him, your heart aching as it melted only for him.

The way he held your hand, his thumb gently running across your knuckles, made you smile at him as you bit at the inside of your lip; for all the years you had been together, he never stopped making you feel like a schoolboy with a crush. All flustered and worked up over the smallest of things.

No matter how many times it happened, no matter how long you were together, you would always fall for him all over again.

But then the coffee was finished, and although neither of you wanted to leave the other's side, you knew that you would eventually have to; it was your turn for the next ground anyway, so while Alejandro rolled cigarettes, you wandered off to get the next couple of cups.

You were stood at the tills, waiting to order, when you watched a soldier approach Alejandro.

"Hey, handsome," they greeted, putting a hand on his shoulder. "What are you doing here all alone?"

Alejandro made a point of showing off his wedding ring as he cleared his throat. "I'm waiting for my husband."

"Well," they sat down opposite him, smiling as they bit their lip. "He's not here, now, is he?"

"He's literally over there, pendejo," he pointed over at you with a curt nod.

They glared at you for a moment, leaning back in the chair and spreading their legs. "Y'know, baby, most marriages end in divorce anyway... why wait?"

Alejandro scoffed as he rolled his eyes. "I'm happily married, estúpido. Very happily, actually."

"C'mon," they all but begged. "Don't you wanna know what it's like to be with someone better?"

That was your last straw. You couldn't bear it any longer as you quickly ordered and paid, marching over towards where Alejandro was sat; you stood behind him, arms folded across your chest as you glared the soldier down.

"Excuse me," you raised your brows a little. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Your husband was all alone," they explained, "all I did was offer him some company."

You shook your head, trying not to smile when Alejandro coaxed you to stand beside him, wrapping his arm around you. "Yeah, see... he's my husband. We're happily married."

"Then why'd he seem so interested in me?"

"He didn't," you deadpanned, leaning forward and making sure that they couldn't avoid your glare. "If you don't get the fuck up, and fuck right off, I will have the entire Pakistan Air Force over here, and they will cheer me on as I break your bones."

The soldier didn't waste any time as they retreated with their tail tucked between your legs; you sighed, only breaking away to grab the coffees before you sat back down again, shaking your head.

"Was that too harsh?"

"No," Alejandro grinned. "Just harsh enough, amor... can't lie, though, I love seeing you jealous."

"I know," you chuckled. "You tell me that every time it happens."

"I mean it," he reached across the table and took your hand in his once again. "It's hot."

You grinned back at him, licking your lips as your gaze dropped to his mouth for a split second. "Y'know, I really do love you, Ale."

"I know, amor," he nodded. "I love you, too... I'm glad I can call you my husband."

"Same here," you said softly. "Tell you what... how about we go home? Maybe then, we can get some fucking privacy."

Alejandro tilted his head to the side, taking on a slightly teasing tone. "What if I say no and wanna stay here, eh?"

"You're my sugar daddy, you can't say no to me," you pointed out. "Otherwise I won't hold your hand again."

He laughed, shaking his head fondly. "You're threatening to take away my hand holding privileges?"

"I am," you nodded.

"Well," he nodded. "I can't say no then, can I?"

[starlightshadowsworld]

It just breaks and pisses me off that things like the Greek migrant crisis are so preventible.

They were fleeing their countries because of the absolute mess the encomy had become.

Trying to meet with their relatives in Europe.

As of June 19th, the death toll is 81 and the people in charge are looking to be facing manslaughter charges.

Though this hasn't be confirmed.

The fact Pakistan issued Monday as a national day if mourning is both heartbreaking but also gestures your part of the problem my dudes.

Don't just give thoughts and prayers, do something.

Also this boat was a fishing boat and started off in Libya and was attempting to get to Italy.

Which is quite the journey.

Greek authorities are like well as tried to help but they didn't want it.

While an advocacy group are like no... No they did, they alerted you guys 2 days before shit went down.

Just seeing the accounts of the survivers reuniting with family like 😭🥺I'm glad their were survivors.

Though not a high amount.

Many are still unaccountated for.

And the story gets more fucked up because guess who organised the damn thing.

Members of a human trafficking ring.

I wish I was making this up.

It's said people paid those incharge anywhere from between $5000 to $8000 to be taken to Europe in hopes of a better life.

Vulnerable people being taken advantage of.

And the boat conditions, survivors described being denied food or water and those who failed to bribe the crew were beaten.

Arrests are being made but I just hope the core issue if why these people were so desperate to take this opportunity isn't lost.

I know the titanic submerine event has people's attebtion right now but it's crucial this story is heard.

[purplesimmer455]

Later that night, Cara leaves for her apartment and Ingrid half-carries a sleepy and grumbly Macy back home, adding that she’d stay but Macy has school. Grace and Iseul chat with Grace’s mom. “So, bheta, anything new?” Amna asks, eyeing Grace’s left hand for signs of a ring. “Well, actually mum…” Grace says, glancing at Iseul, who nods encouragingly. “I've moved in with Issy.” She says gently, and Amna bites her lip. “Oh okay, that’s fine.” She says. “Ammi-” Grace begins, but Amna sighs. “Bheta, you know how I feel on this, I still think you and Iseul should’ve married before moving in because its not proper. Our family in Pakistan have been asking me when you two will marry.” Grace sighs. “I love nana nano and everyone, but it's not their business when I marry." Grace says stubbornly. "I know, Gracie, but I get so sheepish now when they ask me and I have to say no, not yet." Amna adds gently, and Grace sighs again.

There's a slightly awkward silence, and Iseul speaks up. "Mrs. S, I'm definitely planning on marrying your daughter one day. Don't worry." She says, smiling at Amna. "I know, dear." Amna says, softening up a bit. "I wasn't sure of you when we first met but I've come to see how much you love and care for Gracie, and Samuel and I both really like you." Iseul nods. "That means a lot, Mrs. S, and trust me, if Grace and I were both ready, I'd take her to the town jeweler to buy rings right now. But I don't want to rush anything and we're just enjoying each other and taking it slow." Grace blushes and nudges Iseul, who grins at her "Sorry, I meant enjoying time with each other." Iseul corrects, and thankfully Amna doesn't notice the accidental double meaning and nods.