#but i fear it is what it is at this point

[whore-ibly-hot]

"What it takes to lead."

Yan!Dictator x Fem!Reader x Yan!Next in line.

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Non-con, mentions of violence, fascism, groping, p-in-v sex, sexism, questionable father son Dynamics, power dynamics, leather play.

AN: I recently began reading @yanderedrabbles works and they broke my brain, so when I saw they had a Yan!Dictator planned it inspired me. This is... meh.

You don't know how this could've happened.

It was supposed to be a routine visit. Your father was a well off oil baron, owning one of the largest refineries in America, not counting his export deals. You had gone with him, unaware of the tense political state of Dela Marina.

Admittedly, the American government was somewhat aware of the rulers less than conventional methods of maintaining control. Camps, strict surveillance, and a cutting off of outside media aside from those approved by the Dela Marina Media council, but for America's political interests, and more importantly your father's bank, the warnings signs went ignored.

It started off as just a nice, tropical vacation. White sand beaches, exotic meals, and a blaring tan from the sun. However, something soon seemed a bit off. The leader, El presidente Ramon Ballesteros, gave you chills. He said nice things, talked about his vision for Dela Marina, how he would shape the land and people to 'true culture'. It would be inspiring, if his faze didn't feel so dark, so imposing. It was as if hew was analyzing everything, every move you made.

Still, Féliz calmed you a bit. The son of Ramon, as close to a prince as you could be in this 'democracy'. He was nothing like his father. Quiet, more subdued, though just as analytical. His father takes thing in while he speaks, but Feliz stays behind, letting his father do the talking.

"Hello there, señorita." Feliz had approached you the night of the welcome dinner, a lavish affair with Del Marina's finest chefs on hand. "My father wanted me to welcome you personally, we are both youths, uh, leader of the future, he says. Your countries, and mine." He seems awkward repeating his father propaganda. Despite this, you like him. He's funny, he tells you about growing up in Del Marina, about the culture, the people. "You have to go to the beach with me, there all white sand. Is beautiful, and if we go early enough, we can see the starfish beach." You took him up on all his outings, you could tell he was deeply alone, at his core.

"Feliz?" You had asked once. "Do you... get out much? I mean, I'm one for decadence. Whole point of having a daddy with money is spending it." You laugh. You were privileged. You knew it, you embraced it. You had never had to worry about anything, never had a reason to loop beyond at the suffering of the others. Why focus on all that?

"No, I don't. It's tense, in Del Marina. Their are Terroristas, rebels. Mis padre would rather me be here, where its safer. Besides, partying isn't for me. I have to learn how to lead, to study and to help people. My people." He'd explained, fiddling with the white pressed uniform he so often wore, a less refined and adorned version of his fathers. "Loosen up." You had suggested. "We can have some fun, we're friends now, yeah? Let's go party!" Feliz had never wanted really to go to a club, to spend time with the privileged people while he knew others, those being exploitated, were suffering. But you were so, so pretty, and the only friend he felt he had. You made him feel special, not for bring the son of the president, or 'Del Marina's future'. You made him feel special for being him. He agreed.

He was terrified when you both snuck out, naturally it didn't take long for the guards to drag the both of you back to the palace, you kicked and yelled while he went quietly. He feared his father would turn his anger to you, he was ready to take the brunt of the anger. However, his father seems amused. You laugh along with his dad, not sensing the chilling undertone.

"Your son, and the american girl, Presidente." A guard said, bowing, hand over hid chest. "They were seen heading to a club on the north side."

"Ah, let them go." Ramon grins, waving a hand as the guards back off. "Kids, ey? Even at twenty, they still can't help.but wander off. It's good, independence. To think, to have fun. Kids behave this way, it's expected. Dismissed." The guards leave, and he steps down to you. "I ought to thank you, you know? No one has ever gotten my son quite so out of his shell. Feliz, I've tried to inspire that boldness in you, I suppose I didn't realize it would take such a lovely young lady to do so." Felix goes red, looking down. He knows this is a facade, and still can sense the danger in the room. Ramon takes your hand, kissing it. "But i should have known, he is his fathers son, and we are both red blooded men, yes?" He chuckles to himself.

"I didn't mean any harm, I just wanted to have some fun. And I thought maybe Feliz needed a friend." You mumble, heels scuffing the floor awkwardly. Still; you aren't sorry. "He needed a break. To live."

The president goes silent, but then nods, laughing with his arms going. "Of course! Dis boy of mine, always with the working, he wants to be like his papa. It's honorable, but a young man still needs to let loose while he's young. Next time, all I ask is you take an escort. These terroristas planning Del Marina won't care about your intentions, just the message hurting you would send." His gaze grows serious, and you gulps.

"Ah, y-yeah. I'll keep that in mind." You look down, stepping away. "I'll probably go to bed, I've had enough fun. Goodnight, Presidente." He smiles, watching as you turn to Feliz. The tan boy looks through his dark locks, trying to hide his obvious flush from his father. You didn't need any reason to be made to stay here, and he knew his dad. "Night, Feliz." You call, and he just sends you a weak wave. Worried you upset him, you scurry off. The moment you slip out of the heavy wooden door of the presidente's office; his happy and jovial expression falls, mask melting away.

"Why this sudden change in you?" "Papa, please, I didn't mean anything by it, it was all my idea-" His fathers raised hand silences him. "Enough, Feliz." Ramon sighs, strolling to his desk cabinets, hand running across the mahogany surface as he opens up a velvet box, pulling out a bottle of scotch. "I didn’t lie to you, I'm not angry. I wish that your judgment had not been blinded and you had simply brought a guard-" He pours to crystal glasses, the brown liquid filling the clear, ornate glasses. "But I'm proud none the less. You made a choice, a bold one. Hm, we drink, you're becoming a man!"

Feliz winces at the glass sliding towards him, but knows his father won't take no gore an answer. "It was nothing, Papa. Just a quick outing, she was bored and I went with."

"Oh-ho, it was more than that, my son. It's okay, I'm older, but I'm still a man. I'm not immune to the charms of a woman. She is beautiful, no?" Ramon takes a sip, relishing in the burn of the drink. "This is the real infatuation you've had, isn't it."

"Its not an infatuation, she's a friend and-" His father glares, he knows he hates liars. "I... I like her, of course. But its nothing serious, no more than a crush."

"Even a crush is serious for a stoic, quiet man like you, Feliz." His dad leans forward to lift his chin up a bit. "I've never seen you take to anyone like this, that's what makes it serious." Harshly patting the young man's cheek, he leans back. "Her Father is a great ally, a man willing to buy the vast amount of oil our country has. It would be incredible for Del Marina to seal a deal like this, to lock something down. And Feliz, I know you want what's best for the country." Once again, hisbfather cold demeanor returns, shifting from joviality frighteningly fast. "So, I tell you to pursue it."

"I don't even know if she feels that way about me, a-and I couldn't ask her to stay in some foreign country!" Feliz is spouting every excuse he can think of, to push you away, push his fathers implications away, to keep you safe from the truth. The dangers of Del Marina, of his father government and more importantly, his father. Another withering look makes him nod. "I'll... ask her out. See if she'll accompany me to the press gala." He mumbles obediently.

"Good boy. Go, get some rest." He pats his sons shoulder. "And remember, Feliz,-" He chides, turning away and taking another sip, back to the future of Del Marina. "Ballesteros's take what they want."

Lying in bed, the grandness of his room feels imposing. As cold and lonely as ever, his own oil portrait staring back at him. He never liked the commissioned piece. It felt... fake. An image of his, posed by a map, in his uniform, looking like his father. Just. Like. His. Father. The sound of a creaking door makes him sit-up, and he only feels the discomfort in his stomach grow as he sees your form slipping into his room, clad only in pajamas that cling to you. Despite the terror he feels, the pulse of arousal in his gut is prominent too. He grabs his silk pillow, covering up a growing problem as he sees you approach.

"You can't be here, w-what are you doing?" He asks.

You just shake your head and laugh. "Please, it's fine. Your dad made it clear he likes me, and I wanted to check on you." You plop down unceremoniously, groaning at the feeling of the luxurious sheets on your body. "Shit, that's good."

"Go, you have to go-"

"Are you mad at me?" You ask, pouting as you turn to face him. Hes cute when he's nervous, brows furrowed and dark hair tousled. His hands grip the sheets. "Cmon. I'm sorry if I upset you, I just wanted to have fun!"

"I know, I know." he shakes his head. "I'm not mad at you, I was excited. It's just that you don't know my papa like I do. He always has a plan, a motive, for anything he does. And i don't want you getting caught up in something you shouldn't."

You frown, but ignore his warning. "Nah, he likes me, it's fine. I'm not scared of some politician, no different than my dad-"

"No." Hes dead serious, seeing the soft, sweet man so serious makes you pale, gulping. "You have no idea what he's like. What our country is really like, I-" He puts a fist over his mouth, rubbing at his face. "Please. Just try to keep your head down. Okay?" Nodding, and cold at the severity of his sudden change, you scoot closer.

"Okay, okay." You put your hands up in mock defense. "I'm sorry, I'll keep in line. I just wanted to check on you." I pat his arm. "Didn't want you mad at me."

He relaxes at the feeling of your slumped, warm weight against him. "No, I couldn't be mad at you, amiga. You're one of the... few friends I have, even in the short time I've known you. I just don't want you hurt."

"I like you too, Feliz." You murmur, and the simple admission is enough to make his heart palpitate. He grips the sheets, before slowly putting a hand on you. "Go, you should get back to your room. I'll see you tomorrow."

Watching as you pad across the floor, he coughs. "And... there's a gala, coming up. A media event for father and yours to be shown getting along. If you... if you wanted to go. With me."

"Who else would I go with, Feliz?" You tease, making him just look down, nodding.

So how did it end up as this? You're stuck up in the room given to you at the Presidente's estate, it had once felt so grand but now felt suffocatingly small. A deal had been struck, something went wrong when you had been seen at the gala. Media went wild, rumors flew about the pretty new girl spotted alongside Dela Marina's darling prince. And Ramon approached your father with an offer. You don't know what it was, or why he'd agree to it, but it culminated in your father jetting off; leaving you behind.

"Please, please- I don't understand-" You whine, hands shaking and skin slicked with nervous sweat as you see guards sealing up the doors of your room. Trapped. "Presidente Ramon-"

"Shh." His gloved hand pressing a finger to your lips silences you, eyes wide. It is now you are beginning to see the side of the Dela Marina presidente you had heard of. Calculated, cruel. "There's no need to panic, little American darling. It's not like your losing any luxuries you had back home, perhaps you are even gaining some. Both me and your father think this is best, a joining of powers. Now, he was hesitant." Ramon rolls his eyes. "But you are a fierce little thing, and I told him you'd get a bit more discipline here. I doubt he was strict enough in your upbringing. Not that a spark isn't amusing, señora. It's charming at times." His smirk is that of a lion looking over it pray.

"You see," he intertwines his fingers together as he sits down at the foot of the four poster bed beside you. "My son. He loves you. He'll say it's a crush, but a father knows his son. He's always been good, my boy. Never asked for things, never taken what he wanted like he should. This is a push in the right direction for him. To make him make a move. I expect you like him as much?"

"I mean, I don't, I don't know-" You're stammering, hands shaking. It's all crashing down, overwhelming. The feeling of absolution in his town, of finality, is bone chilling. "He's my friend?"

"Ah, well, that's only his own fault. He has trouble taking initiative, and I dont fault you either." He sits up straighter. "Im a traditionalist, like my father and his before him. Of course it should be the man who propositions the young lady, but my son-" he waves his hand. "Has this idea in his head, silly notions about the changing of culture. I am fine with most of it, but a wife and children? Being the man for your family, for your country. No, that I will never budge on."

"Papa!" The heavy door slams open, with a frantic Feliz standing in the now open doorway. "What are you doing, why is she here-"

"Ah, my boy. Come, sit. Me and your friends father had been talking, she'll be staying for a bit. Good news, ay? Now, I'm sure you've got something you'd like to say-"

"Y-you can't do this, she doesn't belong here, papa-" Feliz juts his hands forward to help you, to try and think of a way out of this. "Are you okay? Did your father leave-"

"Feliz!" Ramon's voice booms across the room, causing both of you to still like deers caught in headlights. "Calm yourself, I'm helping you along in making a decision you are unable to make yourself. You will be grateful, and apologize."

It's shocking to see how Feliz shrinks, to see how his dad treats him behind closed doors. "I- I'm sorry, Papa. I just didn't want her in distress. I didn't want her feeling confused." He mutters, head down like an obedient hound.

"Of course, and that's admirable, but you should put more trust in your father to know I���ve already explained the situation. Now come here, come." He waves his son over, and the pair stand near you on the bed. "Tell her. Of your feelings, take charge."

"I-" Theyoung man is trying not to hyperventilate, hands gripping his white uniform short like he's staving off a seizure. "I like you, you know this. I feel emotions for you that no one else had made me feel, and-and if you'd have me-" he sounds like he's ready from a script, eyes clenched shut.

"Not if. Be assertive." His father hisses. "Tell her she is to be yours. Tell her your feelings are strong enough you won't be denied. Tell her what you can provide given your status." He's glaring like a schoolteacher scolding a naughty pupil, and the shaking boy nods.

"When- when you decide I am right for you, I'll provide what you need. Our country has vast resources, and wealth for you to enjoy. You would want for nothing." Its monotone, like an audio book, like it's pre-recorded. Seeing his fathers fist clench, he moves to kiss you lightly. As he approaches, he whispers a soft "I'm so sorry-" as he places warm, slightly chapped lips onto yours. Shocked, but to afraid to not play along, you kiss back. It's soft, it would be intoxicating if the sense of impending doom didn't weigh so heavy, being moved like dolls in a dollhouse.

"That was nice, Feliz." You can think only to reassure him, hand landlord on his neatly pressed shirt. "Very nice, I like you too, of course." You tuck his hair behind his ear, seeing the way his lip wobbles, his eyes water. He's so guilty, he never should have spoken to you.

"Wonderful." His body is jolted by a slap to the back, his father laughing. "Good man, now, shall I leave you kids alone? I'm sure you'll want time to yourself. Son, you understand what a man must take from his woman, yes?"

"I... our relationship is new, papa. I can't. I-I-" He pauses. "I won't, I won't do it. I can't, I wouldn't know how and I dont want her to do anything she doesn't want."

Ramon scoffs. "She's agreed to be yours son, go on! Of course she wants it, don't you, pequeña?" Ramon gestures to where you're laid, looking at you expectantly. When you say nothing, he raises his brows in suprise. "Unbelievable. I set the two of you up for every opportunity and you can't do that. Son," he grabs Feliz's shoulder roughly. "We are men. Conquerors, rulers. We take what we want, lions from lambs. How can you expect to lead, to protect this great country from terroristas if you cannot ask your woman for what all hot-blooded men desire!" He's growing angry, truly mad, his usual cool annoyance heating up. "You have to learn if you don't take what you want, someone else will. Your land, your power, your woman."

"Papa, please-"

"No. I have to do everything my self with you. I'm going to show you what happens if you don't take the first step." He changes his eyes to you, your cowering form. "Strip, girl." You're eyes widen, head shaking on instincts.

"What, no, no, I'm not going to-"

"The choice is not yours. I've got guards outside, you're in my country. In my home." He comes to the bedside, leaning down so he's practically nose to nose with you, dark brown eyes feel like a pool you're drowning in, swallowed whole. "The only thing you are in control of now is how gentle I am, sí?" You're still frozen, just shaking your head over and over again, resulting in him sighing. It's a minor annoyance to him, like he's not violating you but rather just dealing with a disobedient pup. "Everything by myself." He repeats.

Gloved hands brush across your collarbone, cool leather causing a trail of goosebumps to blossom on your skin. He jerks his hand back, tearing the buttons on your dress. The front pops open, buttons clattering to the floor with a 'tink-tink'. Feliz winces, hand to his mouth in horror.

"Papa, please, please don't..." He begs, voice as soft and light as he can make it. He was a good father when he was little. Doting, he'd comfort him when he cried, take him on little outings. A part of Feliz hopes that softer voice would remind him of the boy he once was, that he'd give in.

"This is what happens son, you don't take initiative, someone gets there before you." Ramon feels you squirm a bit and tightens the grip he's got on your left arm, gaze never leaving his son as he warns you. "Don't squirm, girl." He warns. "You're a lady, not some groveling worm, hold still, I'll get to you in a moment."

"Can I talk her through it?" Feliz asks. "Let me be by her side, or at least... I don't know!" He begs. Ramon tilts his head, then nods. "Alright. Second best option is getting in where you can. Rising through the ranks, get over here." Feliz scrambles to get to your other side. "Now, let's get this off." Ramon grabs the blade he keeps on his waistband at his side, pressing the cold still to your pretty skin while he cuts the lace straps of your bra off. "Aw, beautiful. Shame to hide such beautiful breasts away, without a man to reveal them." He coos. Rough lips place a kiss to your left nipple, making you whimper. "Just beautiful. Feliz, take it in. Your first woman."

Feliz is staring, both horrified at his biological reaction and awe struck at the sight of your newly revealed breasts. He'd stared many a time when they were covered, to see them exposed in front of him was a new feelings entirely. He reaches out, letting a breath he didn't know he was holding escape as he gropes your left tit.

"There we go, it's good, yeah? A woman's body is a miraculous thing." Groaning, he leans down and kisses up and down softly the nape of your neck. "Don't stay quiet, let me hear those pretty noises, girl." He whispers

"I don't, this can't happen, presidente. I don't want this." You whisper, and he just chuckles, looking up at you from his place on your chest. "Ah, amor, but you will."

A sudden pressure on your ass makes you squeak, his hands groping the meat of your ass firmly, sure to leave bruises. "Don't speak back to me, ey? Lay back and enjoy what a man in power can offer you, girl. And call me Ramone." He grins. "There's no need for formalities when I'm going to have you speared on my cock."

Feliz grimaces at the way your eyes water, so afraid. But not only can he not help, he's so horrendously turned on. Your heaving breasts, wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You're a picture of eroticism, and the hardening in his shorts is a clear sign that the part of him desiring you is winning him over. He watches his father roll you over, gloved fist kneading the cheeks of your ass.

"Just a short reminder to not talk back. To behave."

A sharp pain makes you yelps, a harsh slap to your ass. Immediately after delivering the blow, his gloved hand massages to red mark. "See? Even when in the throws of sex, you should exercise your control, my boy. Let her know you are in charge, regardless of their pleasure she is providing you." He scoots aside, petting half while looking at Feliz. Feliz swallows harshly, but hovers his hand lightly over your plump rear. Another squeak, as he delivers a softer, albeit still harsh spank. "Make sure she's okay now. A firm hand, not a cruel one."

Feliz shaky hand gently rubs the mark, mimicking Ramon's actions, and he leans down to whisper in your ear. "Not too much, right? It wasn't too much? You-" He's trying to justify himself, why he feels so aroused by all this, by you. "You liked it, right?"

You're shocked, but as you shake your head no, another slap. The gentle kneading afterwards does little to relieve the pain. You know not to protest. "It's fine." You whisper.

Feliz wouldn't normally believe you, he'd hear the pain in your voice, the tremble. He'd want to sooth you, but he was so unbelievably needy in those moment, for for relief and to believe you were happy with him. That this was a good, intimate moment between the two of you, without his fathers direction, without force. Thid was the moment he trusted himself, his virginity to you. He just smiles weakly at your statement that it's okay.

"So pretty, let's get these off of you, huh?" You can feel the gloves leather, once cool, now hot against your skin he snaps your pantie strap against your hip, making you flinch. "Hm, I bet you've had plenty of men. A rich privileged American girl, spending your papas money. Does he know, know that your a slut, or is he too busy?"

"I've only been with a few guys..." you weakly protest. "From... club and stuff."

"A few too many. If any proper man had had you, he'd be sure you only ever took his cock, allowed him inside of you." Once again grabbing that knife, he slides the blade across the strap he had previously snapped, the fabric tearing and loosening. "Beautiful..." he runs his finger over the lips of your pussy, puffy from arousal. He lets you feel each wrinkle in the leather of his gloves, before spreading your lips apart, strings of slick snapping.

Feliz feels his mouth is watering, your mouth watering, your most bare part vulnerable for him. He can't stop himself from cupping your mound, letting his fingers curiously trail up to your clit. You let out a reluctant moan at the feeling; and he just leans down to kiss your cheek. "You're so pretty. A-and you're doing so well..." Making sure his father is distracted, he whispers in your ear. "Im sorry our first time together had to be like this, but... its still nice, right?" He's still in denial about the horrors of his actions. "You still get to feel good, and you get to be with me. This... this is what we both want..."

"Feliz..." You whimper, but he just shakes his head. "No, don't tell me it's not. I can't handle that right now." Despite his good nature, Feliz has always been given what he wanted. He cant help but feel selfish, ask you not to hurt his feelings or overwhelm him while your the one being violated. He'll reflect on that later. His lips, slightly chapped, press hot against yours, once, then twice. "That was my first." He admits. "Wouldn't want it to be anyone but you."

Suddenly, his father grabs his collar, pulling me back a bit. "Come now, boy. Clear out, I need my time now."

Feliz pales. "Papa?" He's visibly confused. "You said... take what I want, be a leader, not a follower. I thought you'd be giving her to me, that I'd be having sex with her! You said a man should let his woman be only with him from the moment he decides he wants her?" His tan hands are shaking, flushed face a mix of embarrassment and frustration. All he wants is to tenderly relieve the pressure in his shorts with you, and as he sees his father let out a 'tsk', his frustration increases.

"But that doesn't apply, does it? She's had other men before, and she's not a true, proper woman of our country. If nothing else, it's better I be sure she's even worth it. It's not simply sex, this could be the woman you choose to lead alongside, boy." His father cold glare makes him shrink back, sliding off the bed.

"But, isn't it a test of my leadership that I take her first-"

"You wouldn't question your papa?" Ramom hisses, and Feliz wilts. He can't make eye contact with you as he leaves the room. When it's him violating you, he can at least pretend you feel safer because it's him, that you like it. But its his father, a ruthless dictator, and stranger. As he leaves and makes his way down the hall, he's determined to be ready to cater for you when it's all over.

Back in the room, you remain a trembling mess, watching the much older man removing his belt with a practiced speed. "Please don't, sir-" You ask. "I don't feel comfortable, I don't-"

"You should feel grateful." He reminds. "To have both the attentions of a leader and his son. I understand it might be frightening, you know the kind of man I am. How i stay in power, I've tricked your father but I've no doubt that boy of mine has admitted some things to you." As he removes white dress pants and dispenses of his gloves on the nightstand, he grips your chin with now-bare fingers. Calloused; from years of clawing his way to the top. "You aren't stupid. That's one of the things I admire about you, girl. Smart, if a bit spoiled. That's fine, respect can be taught, a place can be taught. Natural intelligence can be harder to develop."

"Why me?" You blurt. "Why are you forcing me into this, you could have any woman, I'm not even close to your age, a-and Feliz, Feliz likes me!" You hope to garner even a bit of sympathy for his son in this moment, hoping it would prevent him going all the way.

"He does not 'like' you, he loves you." He says matter-of-factly. "Which is precisely why this has to be done. You will be in the public eye, the first lady of this great country. I need to know you can be submissive, can provide as a wife should. But... I also need to know you can be taught, can take orders. My boy, he is-" Ramon shakes his head. "Meeker than I would like, despite my efforts. I need to know even with his less than firm hand that he can ensure you behave. And ones true colors come out in the bedroom, I find."

He pounces, baring down rather suddenly, grip on your jaw near crushing as his free hand strokes once, then twice over his cock; brown with a curve to it and a purple tip. "But, I am also not a liar. I admit the idea of having a beautiful young woman around my manhood isn't-" he nips are your ear, breath hot yet making you feel frigid with fear. "Intoxicating."

"It's been a long time." You whisper, and he feigns a caring pout. "Ah, I'm sure. Don't worry, I won't let you hurt. But remember, this is about taking orders. First, take me in your hands. I doubt you're inexperienced in this, so don't feign naivety." His voice is low, threatening. Despite the churning feeling of sickness, you take his length in one shaky hand, wrapping round the erect shaft, and refusing to meet his gaze.

"Good. Go on now, kiss it, just the tip. I want to see you practice restraint, just because you don't want this doesn't mean I will rush." He warns. Your plush lips gently press the bulbous tip, you can feel a shiver run up him as you do. Testing the waters and desperate to get it over with, you slowly slip in the tip, tongue pressing against the vein under his cock. He doesn't thrust, not allowing you to take hin in fully; but the clenching in his jaw shows the effect it's having.

"Wonderful..." He groans. "Very good, take a little more, yes? I know you can, shit-" He rolls his hips, the salty flavor of skin filling your mouth further as you take him in deeper. "Good, suckle. Suck the cock of El presidente-" He's beginning to get a bit lost in his praise of himself more than you.

Sloppy, wet sounds fill your ears, eyes screwed shut as a few tears slip from them. Ramon grunts, whispering another moan of pleasure before noticing and sighing. He wipes some tears with his thumb, licking up the salty water to your shock. "Don't cry, cariño. I'm not being cruel. I'm being rather gentle with your pretty mouth; no damaged goods here." He reminds. You can hear his grunts increasing in frequency, his cock twitching in your mouth, when he roughly threads his fingers in your hair and yanks you off his cock.

"Hands and knees, face away." He demands. "Don't make me wait." Your knees dig into the silk of the bed, assuming an easily mountable position. Once again, you make a final plea. "Please-" Your voice sounds as though it could shatter. "Don't hurt me."

To your suprise, you can feel him freezing behind you, and hear a deep sigh. You scre your eyes tight as you feel him assume position behind you, leaky cock pressing against your folds as his chest, still clad in his white dress shirt, presses against your bare spine. One hand holds himself up, while the other takes your chin from behind, gentler than his initially grip. He places a few small kisses mixed with nibbles against the flushed shell of your ear.

"Being a leader-" he begins, "Is not easy. Being the wife of one, even more so. There is danger, societal expectations, and constant decisions that must be made. But know this, my touch is not something you need to fear, cariño." He's uncharacteristically tender now, and that frightens you more.

He finishes his speech with a kiss to the back of your neck, before sighing as he eases his tip into your wet folds.

"Ah-" You whine, it's thick, but it doesn't fully hurt. He's tender, he kept his promise. "Feel that? The stretch of a true Dela Marinan man?" He asks, working his way in a bit deeper. His balls, heavy, slowly crawl closer to the lips of your cunt as he further enters, groaning.

"Beautiful. Mmph, you don't have the makings of a first lady." He firstly pulls out, before sheathing fully again. "You're practically sucking me in, girl. You were made to take a Dela Marinan man, god-" His pace increases, gripping your hips as the thrusts.

"Are you close?" He asks. "Can you feel that coil of pleasure within you? Go on, release. Cum when the man controlling you demands."

Letting out a final mewl mixed with a sob, you can feel yourself beginning to spasm, walls twitching as a gush of fluids coats his cock. In a display of impressive control, though not surprising for the cold blooded president, he removes his angry cock without finishing. Quickly tucking himself away, back into his boxers, he towels the sweat from his brows as he appraises your fucked-out form. "You have the makings of a good wife. There is more to teach certainly, but there will be time for that. Though-" He tilts his head as if in deep contemplation, before leaning down to press a rather full kiss to your sweat-soaked form. It's passionate, surprisingly so, and he had held back from something that intimate so far. "As much as I love that boy of mine, I wonder if he is man enough to deserve a woman like you." He whispers, before pulling away and rather curtly leaving.

You can hear what sounds like voices in the hall, and soon two female attendants come to wipe you up. You're took sore to protest, and as they scurry out, the hurried footsteps of Feliz replace the noise they made. A look of worry fades slowly when he sees you, looking tired but mostly unharmed. He's got a glass of water in hand, a piece of chocolate, and other random medicine cabinet items. It's clear he was unsure what a woman would need for aftercare, and just took everything.

"I'm here, it's okay now." You can't even bring yourself to tale comfort in the words of your friend. You wanted him to have saved you, yet the most emotion he showed during the ordeal was learning he couldn't have you first. You just lay silent, still. He lays down beside you, fully clothed, curling into your side like a child seeking their mother's comfort. He pulls the sheets over you, kissing your forehead before closing his eyes.

"It'll be better next time." He promises. "It'll be me." That hardly soothes the pain.

[meowf4ngs]

thinking about roommate!ghost, because I need him to see him slightly happy, and in a nice domestic slice-of-life because he deserves it.

and how he puts up a craigslist ad for a roommate, he's gone too much to actually care for the flat---price put him up to it to get one, the flat not the roommate, because everything be damned if he had one of the other's hear he needs something; someone like that.

he's quick to the point about it--how much the rent will be, their room, the commons room where they'll both reside, how there's only one bathroom, where the kitchen is small.

no pets allowed, no people over without telling him---the whole nine yards, which in his opinion is completely fair.

and lucky him---this pretty little thing shows up at his doorstep.

she's a cute little thing, teetering on their feet as they await for him to open the door, and when it does swing open---he sees how her eyes widen just the slightest amount with how his frame fills in the doorway. he's all but blocking her, and don't forget the fact he's wearing his mask---forgot to take it off, sometimes he's just too comfortable with it.

but she's not even put off by it, just a smile up his way, a cock of her head to the side, adjusting the strap on her back, as she nods at him. "Hi, Simon, right?" and her voice is the sweetest thing he's heard---or maybe he's been with the boys too long, too much of Soap's snoring in his ear.

he grunts, nods his head, "Come in," voice gravel-like, low and sees how she steps in without an ounce of fear in her, slips past him and he could smell the perfume she has---something warm and comforting, his eyes half-lidded watching her back as she's already eyeing the bare living room.

the door shuts with a soft click, already wondering what she'll look like in the morning.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Mechanic Eddie? The reader is Eddie’s girlfriend or wife and she’s stopping by the shop cause they have lunch plans. While she’s waiting for Eddie one of the other mechanics (who Eddie cannot stand) starts hitting on her thinking she’s a customer and Eddie gets mad… 👀 and reader and Eddie don’t make it to the lunch plan cause Eddie goes feral 🤭

She’s back at it again with amazing ideas!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, creampie, cockwarming, reader gets hit on by one of Eddie’s employees

The shop is practically empty when you enter it and everyone stops to wave at you, making sure to do so since they all seem to want to kiss up to the boss’s wife to get on Eddie’s good side. And as long as you’re happy, he is. You’re the most important thing in his life so he takes your opinion very seriously. When he opened the shop, he let you pick out a lot of the decorations. And he can’t help but smile proudly when customers compliment the 50’s themed decor that was all thanks to you.

You’re so in love with each other and everyone knows it. All of his employees love you and they’re all so respectful, treating you like they do him. It also helps that you bring them sandwiches pretty much every time you come in.

Rod is the new guy who always flirts with the women who come in, even when they bring along their romantic partners and he’s one more complaint away from being fired. Three strikes and he’s out. He’s got one more left and Eddie really hopes he doesn’t blow it.

But when you show up in your short dress, that promise Rod made to Eddie about being on his best behavior goes out the window. He watches you move through the shop, handing out sandwiches and making conversation with the other employees and he has a one track mind now, completely abandoning his current task as you approach. He thinks that maybe his flirting will finally work out.

He leans against the hood of the car he’s working on, making an attempt to make you notice him and you do, making a beeline for him with your basket of sandwiches. You figure he must be the new guy Eddie’s constantly complaining about and now you’re interested to see if he’s actually as bad as your husband says because he always tends to be a bit dramatic.

You put on your bright smile and hold the basket out to Rod. He happily takes a sandwich then steps forward and makes an attempt to put on a flirty smile. Yours matches his, but he doesn’t know that you’re just trying to be nice.

“I’m y/n,” you smile, putting your hand out for him to shake and he takes it despite all of the grease on his hands. You give it a shake then quickly pull away, already feeling uncomfortable being near the man.

“Rod,” he says with a nod, stepping even closer and now you’re fearing for your safety. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

“I think maybe I should reintroduce myself again,” you reply. I’m y/n, y/n Munson, Eddie’s wife.” You hold up the hand you’ve got your ring on and Rod’s mouth falls open at the giant rock on your ring finger. The thing is so huge that he’s sure he could see it from outer space.

He doesn’t seem to care that you’re married because he’s stepping even closer, causing you to step back again and again until your back hits someone’s chest. Their hand lands on your shoulder and just from the weight of it, you just know that it’s your husband.

“That’s the final straw. I’ve given you plenty of chances to change but I haven’t seen any growth. You have made so many people uncomfortable and now you’re hitting on y/n? Get out.”

Eddie is normally very relaxed so seeing him so riled up is so different. He’s always so sweet to you so this isn’t something you see very often. But when you do…god, you’re nothing but a puddle. The way he’s so angry and on your behalf makes you feel the need to go clean yourself up, just knowing that you’re making a mess in your panties.

“What-”

“Did I stutter? Apologize to my wife and the fuck out!” Eddie’s pointing towards the door and you’re no longer scared but rather turned on by how protective Eddie is of you. You know he was wanting an excuse to fire the guy anyway, but still. He’s always quick to jump to your defense and you feel so loved because of it. He’s your hero until death do you part.

“I’m sorry,” Rod apologizes then makes a scene of leaving the shop, throwing different tools around while screaming expletives and how he’s going to sue for wrongful termination.

You laugh it off, not actually scared anymore as Eddie protectively wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. Once Rod is gone, his tired screeching as he pulls out of the parking lot, everyone goes back to work and you and Eddie go to his office, business as usual. It’s just a little blip.

Once safely inside his office, you sit on his desk, admiring the photo he has of the two of you on your wedding day, sharing a kiss. He has copies of that exact photo everywhere, even keeping one in his wallet to look at when he misses you, which is anytime he’s not around you.

You spread your legs and he steps between them. You grab hold of his shirt and pull him closer, pressing your lips to his as he cages you in, pressing his hands against the desk. You both know he needs to get back to work, but the position you’re in and the need is far too strong to ignore.

You watch him slowly sink to the floor, pulling your panties down as he does and once they’re off, he sticks them in his back pocket before discarding your shoes. He then grabs hold of your thighs and pulls you closer, draping your legs over his shoulders. Your dress is pushed up as he kisses up your legs, murmuring what you just know are sweet nothings into your skin.

“Shouldn’t I be the one giving you head?” You ask and Eddie can’t help but let out a chuckle.

“But I’m not the one who looks fucking hot today so really, I’m just giving you what you rightfully deserve,” he replies, peppering your inner thigh with kisses before shoving his face into your cunt.

He’s being nothing but gentle, teasing as he goes in with his tongue, putting just a little pressure on your clit as you let out a moan, making sure to get his hair out of the way so it doesn’t interfere with his work. You move it this way and that as he gets more aggressive, biting down again and again. Both of you are grateful that he had all of that soundproof material installed for exactly this reason. Let’s just say that this isn’t the first time that you’ve been in the exact position in this exact setting…

He somehow gets you even closer, pushing his face further into your cunt as your heels dig into his back, moan after moan falling from your lips. The whole thing is making you dizzy just like usual, but this time, you’re on such a high that you feel you’re seeing stars. He’s much more aggressive, more hungry than normal, acting like he didn’t do this exact thing last night when the two of you couldn’t sleep.

You’re close, you can feel it. You’re pulling on his hair and that only encourages him, putting more into it than he ever has and as you reach your orgasm, nothing but his name falls from your lips in a loud, breathy moan which makes him hard as a rock.

He doesn’t even give you time to come down when he comes up for air. He immediately presses his lips to yours, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to his chair. He sits down, letting you straddle his lap as his tongue slides into your mouth so you can taste yourself on him.

Eddie grabs hold of your hips, helping your grind against him, making him even harder as you move together. He’s bucking his own hips against yours as he moans into your mouth at the feeling. He think he’s earned a fuck after making you come like he did.

You’re unbuttoning his pants as he rolls the chair back against the wall so it’s less likely to move with your activity. His pants are somehow down in an instant and you’re rolling the condom onto him before topping him, your lips moving to his neck as you begin to ride him. Soft and slow as you kiss his neck, his hands moving up your back and curling into the fabric.

You’re moving slower than usual, not in any rush even though you’re in Eddie’s place of work. That’s not even something that’s on your mind. You’re so caught up in him and the way he makes you feel that you can’t possibly stop now, not for anything.

He’s bucking his hips against yours the best he can, watching you hover over him, showering him with compliments about how he’s your hero and how you can always count on him to save the day. He’s eating it up, both your words and the way you’re moving, wanting to take your time.

It always seems like you both are in a rush just because of how horny you are for each other, but this is different, it’s much more intimate, more loving. He wants to stay like that forever. And even when Eddie is coming, he’s still thinking about how much he doesn’t want to leave.

So you two stay like that for a while, just holding each other until it’s time to go home, your lunch plans- the entire reason you had even shown up-completely forgotten just like always. Now you suppose you just have to make it up to him by skipping straight to dessert.

[kithmet]

i think there’s a part of buck—a part that exists very, very deep in his subconscious—that has feared being accused of being in love with eddie from the moment he realized he liked men. like, if we circle back to 7x05, eddie is the only person buck is scared of coming out to. he does it fine with everyone else, on accident, brushing off the importance of it. but with eddie we had a whole episode avoiding it. his relationship with eddie is the only one that could be fundamentally impacted by that change. a part of buck was maybe scared, irrationally, that eddie might think it now means he is in love with him.

so when tommy brings it up in 8x11, this thing that has been eating away at buck for almost a year at this point, he goads tommy into saying it. it’s obvious tommy was referring to eddie but buck wanted him to voice it, he wanted someone, anyone to say it aloud. he wanted to hear those fears said to him for the first time, maybe because in a way it almost validates this crazy part of him that he repressed down. honestly, i think buck is relieved someone finally said it so he could start arguing his case.

the problem is, when he finally starts speaking the arguments he’d prepared—“eddie’s straight”, “this isn’t even really his house”, “it just isn’t like that”—he realizes that, actually, no one actually believes him. that’s what pisses him off the most, what sent him over the edge with tommy. then the, “everyone wants me to be hopelessly pining for my straight best friend,” when absolutely no one said that! those are his own fears that have manifested. and what’s even worse than all this is—it might even be true. but i think buck will avoid that until something snaps.

[livingfandomly]

This is something I’ve seen a lot and I’ve also joked about a lot but after SotR I just need to clarify my actual thoughts on this topic: Snow’s “twink death” and his inability to let go of, what was essentially, a month long relationship.

The thing is, it’s not Lucy Gray that he’s holding a grudge against… it’s her lifestyle. He got to experience first hand, the freedom and self-assurance that groups like the Covey generated for themselves. He saw Lucy Gray run off into the woods, swim in a lake, sing and dance with her peers, all after a game that should’ve destroyed her spirits - because that is the point of the Games. To have a sole surviving reminder of why the Capitol is in control. To send back one “victor” who every district hates because the person standing in front of them is taking their friend/child/sibling/cousin/partner’s spot. To completely dismantle that person’s ability to cope with the world the way they used to and to have them beholden to the Capitol for “awarding” them with riches. They’re supposed to serve only as a reminder, a threat, a shell of a person who is visibly hollow and tarnished, hated by many, feared by some and pitied by few.

Lucy Gray is not that shell. Lucy Gray, therefore, serves as a constant reminder to Snow of what should not be happening to those who get to leave the arena. The more he takes command of the Capitol and the Games, the more the “mistakes” of the Games stand out to him because his benchmark for measuring them is Lucy Gray.

Keep in mind that the 10th Games were also the first time he got to see from the inside out. He saw what pissed off the tributes. He saw how they were transported. He also saw how the public reacted at the home district. Lucy Gray had nightmares, sure, but her ability to re-mingle with her friends was a failure of the Capitol. He saw the need to maintain a constant difference between “victor” and “friend”. He saw the need to put them on tours so that the divide and distance grows. He saw the need to be able to broadcast every aspect of the Games without having to constantly be frantically cutting the feed or very obviously fixing the narrative, because that was yet another failure of the system the Capitol was trying to enforce.

This becomes so clear in SotR when he has his talk with Haymitch and realises that the Lucy Gray spirit he has been trying to squash is still alive. Not only that, it’s infectious. It can take someone like Haymitch, someone who is very well pressed under the Capitol thumb, and spark a fire inside him. The colours of the Covey, the singing, it doesn’t just represent Lucy Gray, it represents aspects of freedom that shouldn’t exist. Even him saying:

“You love her. And oh, how she seems to love you. Except sometimes you wonder because her plans don’t seem to include you at all.”

Is so telling because he can’t fathom that a person in the districts could have the independence of thought to do whatever they want. To him, she should be desperate to go back to the Capitol with Snow to get a chance to live the dream that they’re trying so hard to sell, but obviously failing.

So no, Lucy Gray isn’t just the girl he couldn’t get over. She’s the girl that serves as a warning, as an abomination of the purpose of the Capitol. As his personal blueprint of what should not be repeated ever again.

[cazort]

I want to point out that if you end up in a situation where overt / open protest becomes difficult or risky, there are still a ton of things you can do.

Probably one of the most important things you can do is to network with people through one-on-one, face-to-face meetings. Find people you know who are perhaps reasonably progressive or moderate, meet up with them for coffee or tea and talk to them about your concerns about American democracy.

There are several potential purposes or benefits to these meetings:

you might inspire people who already share your concerns, but haven't been driven to action, to actually act

you might educate people who haven't been as politically engaged, about what is going on

you can both brainstorm ideas of ways to act, sharing them with each other. each of you might have ideas that the other did not think of

you can offer each other complementary strengths and freedoms. for example, a worker in the Federal bureaucracy might be afraid to speak out publicly against the administration for fear of retaliation, but they also might have valuable insider information to share with others, and those others might be able to publicly speak out without as much risk some people have more money at their disposal and other less some people are able bodied and more able to attend an in-person protest that others might not be able to some people are better writers than others. some people might be good at writing, but not in a position where they are comfortable putting their name on something, so they could write something that another person could send in their name, such as a letter to the editor, or publishing a blog, editorial, or writing letters to specific individuals some people are more tied into certain circles than others and might be able to pull strings somewhere to get certain results. some people have social media skills and computer skills that may be helpful.

Don't just scream and yell mindlessly. Yes, sometimes showing up to a protest in numbers has a good effect. But other times, behind-the-scenes work is important. Even if you go to an in-person event, don't let your work stop there. Meet people at the protest, network, get to know people. Talk about your experience, your views. Make connections and then follow-up.

And if you are bullied into silence, use those connections. Meet privately and work even harder in secret. Every time an article gets censored and shut down, find or create a new way to publish and distribute it. And distribute it with full documentation of the mechanism through which it was censored, and name names and give contact info of the people who made the choice to censor it. Create electronic mailing lists and distributing channels through apps that do not use curated feeds that are easily manipulated. Physically print something and walk to people's houses and put it in their mailboxes if need be. Reach everyone you can. Make it so that every time they try to exert control, the reaction is 20x as strong as their initial action.

U.S Added to a Global Human Rights Watchlist

Why You Should Be Worried About America’s Declining Human Rights Ranking

When you think of human rights abuses, you might picture authoritarian regimes, not the United States. But according to a new report from CIVICUS (source), the U.S. is now officially categorized as a "narrowed" democracy—a status shared with countries where free speech, protests, and civil liberties are increasingly under attack. The U.S. joins the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Pakistan, Chile, Slovakia, and 37 other countries with "narrowed" civic freedoms. That’s the kind of company America is now keeping.

What Does This Mean for You?

Your Right to Protest Is Under Threat – Laws restricting peaceful demonstrations have been ramping up, making it easier for authorities to criminalize protests they don’t like.

Censorship and Press Freedom Are in Decline – Journalists covering protests or political corruption are facing more harassment, and state-level laws are making it harder to report the truth.

Targeting of Activists and Marginalized Groups – The crackdown on civil rights groups, LGBTQ+ organizations, and racial justice movements is accelerating.

Legal Attacks on Voting Rights – Gerrymandering, voter suppression, and efforts to limit ballot access are all symptoms of a democracy that’s backsliding fast.

What’s at Stake?

If the U.S. keeps trending in this direction, basic freedoms—like the ability to voice your opinion, challenge authority, or even vote—could become privileges instead of rights. Young people, activists, and minority communities will be the first to feel the impact, but make no mistake: this affects everyone who believes in a fair and free society.

The Bigger Picture

This is not just about one bad policy or one election cycle—it’s about a systematic shift toward authoritarianism. Through executive orders, Trump has sought to consolidate power in the executive branch, making it easier for him and his allies to monitor and control departments and agencies to ensure they are only carrying out Trump’s agenda. The more people accept restrictions on speech, protests, and voting, the easier it becomes for those in power to tighten their grip. This is how democracies die: not with a single dramatic event, but through a slow erosion of rights, one law at a time.

What Can You Do?

Stay Informed – Know what’s happening at the state and federal levels.

Speak Up – The more people push back, the harder it is for leaders to silence dissent.

Vote Like Democracy Depends on It – Because, frankly, it does.

The U.S. has long claimed to be a beacon of democracy. But that light is fading—and unless we fight for our rights, it could go out completely.

[hel1nn]

Satoru gojo fic recommendations !

— he fell from the sky! By @satorunigojaloo

It's a really beautiful series ugh what do i say now. satoru drops *crashes* Infront of reader and reader decided to help him recover from his injuries and during all of that a strong bond forms between you and toru.

Note : make sure to check @/satorunigojaloo 's masterlist,more excellent works of her are there ♡

— double trouble by @moon-catto

Because of a curse satoru is teleported back in time ^.^

— in a few years : part 1 | part 2 by @noroi1000

This one is also about time travel:3

Note : make sure to check @/noroi1000 's other works by scrolling through her blog,more excellent works of her are there ♡

— gunshot of love by @faevi

Smutttttt,dark content and gun play but nothing dangerous and fluff

— Lonely together by @/satorunigojaloo

Roommate toru,bsf to lovers.

— come with me by @/satorunigojaloo

Fluff and lil angst,roommate toru

— belong with me by @chuluoyi

Reader is megumi's sister here and is practically raised by satoru,at some point reader falls in love with toru . And satoru is like 10yrs olders than reader maybe

— heartbreak hotel by @/chuluoyi

Exes of one week to lovers ^.^

— fear by @/chuluoyi

Yeah this one made me cry but angst with a hapi hapi ending ^.^

— everything,but not anything by @/chuluoyi

Angst with a little comfort in the end

— found you by @/chuluoyi

Part two of "everything,but not anything" , comfort/no angst

— between us by @feelstora-quotes

Angsty:( but i love teacher toru ^.^

— older bf!toru by @sttoru

HELL YEAH I LOVE OLDER TORU

— satoru gojo x oc ! reader by @asdfghjklmals

This one is such a unique series,i love it.

— the devil's hour by @sltoru

A fic inspired by a manhwa called "tears on a withered flower". Reader gets cheated on by her husband but satoru saves reader and later she founds out satoru was a boy she met when reader was a small girl:3

— teacher satoru x student reader

Smutttttttttt aghhhhh Idk who's the owner of this drabble but all credits goes to them. I lovveeeeeeeee older toru.

— tell me you don't want me by @awearywritersworld

Satoru falls for his dead best friend's sister,you. Angst to fluff

— step on me by @/sttoru

Angst to fluff ! its always satoru who snaps at reader but this time reader snaps at satoru

— but daddy i love him by @jeankluv

A mini series where you meet satoru at a library, later your parents warn you about how much of a bad person satoru is but satoru proves their words wrong.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Elysium pretty much confirms what a lot of us have suspected about Sylus' official age — it's just a random number he picked out for himself. Not his true age.

Just think about it and you'll see what I mean about it not making sense.

So according to his profile, Sylus is 28 years old in 2048.

The N109 Zone gang wars took place in 2036, ie 12 years earlier. Which would make him 16 years old at the time.

Do you guys see what I'm getting at?

Are we supposed to believe that Sylus was 16 or younger in his anecdote?

Are you deadass telling me to buy for even a second that Sylus was hunting down intergalactic overlords for sport, conquering entire planets, and cementing his reputation as the most feared and wanted man in the history of an entire civilisation before legal drinking age? Before he'd be eligible to get a driver's license?

Are you expecting me to buy that this

or this

is basically a high-schooler??? A literal child???

Nah. I'm willing to suspend my disbelief on a lot of stuff but this?

Absolutely not.

Sylus is not 28.

Tbh though I never believed he was. I thought it was just a number he picked for the sake of creating an identity. Someone pointed out in a comment to one of my posts that it might actually be a reference to how old he'd be in dragon years rather than in human years, and I like that theory. Honestly, I've always figured that Sylus was not reincarnated or reborn, but rather resurrected/reassembled—the scar on his chest, as well as the fact that he retains all his memories of the past unlike MC or Zayne, strongly hint towards that being the case imo. So I think he's most likely been a fully grown adult for decades, at least, depending on when exactly his resurrection/reassembling took place.

Man, I need more Sylus lore... I need more info on his planet conquering days, his prison escape, the timeline of his first stay in the Oasis etc.

@/Paperfold

Anyway, I rest my case.

[sugarwarachan]

random horny thoughts about hq men - seijoh + nekoma edition

CHARACTERS: mattsun, iwaizumi, makki, oikawa, kuroo, kenma, shohei CWS: nsfw, smut, all characters 18+, knife play, implied d/s undertones to a lot of these, toxic relationship elements, cheating/cucking if you squint, corruption kink, oral (f!receiving), bondage, spit kink NOTES: continue to enjoy my gross thoughts as i pull myself out of whatever writer's block hell i'm in. thank you to the anon who suggested shohei's - i accidentally deleted it i'm so sorry 😀

mattsun loves knife play. the idea of cutting your tights away from your body, tracing the knife ever so gently up the inside of your thigh before rippppp the metal tears through like butter. the flash of fear and unbridled lust in your eyes bricks him up instantly. he slots his thigh between yours and presses the flat of the blade ever so gently against your thrumming pulse. "ready to play, angel?"

iwaizumi finds out your ex never made you cum and makes it his personal mission to give you as many orgasms as possible. his fingers, tongue, dick, thighs, he wants to get you off in every way possible and erase that idiot’s ineptitude from your brain. “you cum so easily, baby. the fuck was your ex talking about?”

makki loves when you talk back. it’s foreplay for him to take you out somewhere nice and relentlessly tease you all night, each of you trading good-natured barbs that run just a little bit nasty (he likes when you’re mean, what can he say). there’s always a line, though, and when you cross it, his hand grips the back of your neck hard enough to stop you short. "I think we should go home, don't you?"

oikawa is prone to toxic situationships that always result in hurt feelings (his own). he sees you out with other guys and it actually boils his blood to the point where he’s calling you, whining about how you don’t make time for him anymore, and when you come over, he fucks you face down on the mattress to remind you that he’s the only one who knows how to make you cum the way you like

he’s super embarassed about it, but kuroo has a little bit of a corruption kink. like the first time he goes down on you and you get all blushy and embarassed - he’s hard as a rock. soothes you with soft kisses on your neck and stomach as he tells you how beautiful you look, how good you are just for him. he’s gentle in how he eats but he’s determined to make you as crazy for him as he is for you

kenma is lazy this kenma is lazy that - kenma finds out how much you like to be tied up and learns everything he can about bondage play. he buys a dummy to practice on (kuroo absolutely loses his mind over this), he watches tutorials, boy is dedicated to finding out how to make you cum this way. when this skinny streamer guy asks you out, you have no idea you’re gonna be roped into a bondage belt with a happy strap grazing over your clit as you sob into his arms (but you're not complaining)

your first impression of shohei is that he’s never known the touch of a woman but HOO BOY were you wrong. this man is a FREAK between the sheets. you can’t believe that the mild-mannered dude who barely says a word forces your mouth open so he can spit directly onto your tongue. by the time he’s done with you, you’re fucked out of your skull, covered in scratches, hickies, and cum, and being asked if you want to order taco bell

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works. reblogs and comments always appreciated <3

[morlock-holmes]

See, now iI'm confused, because I was talking about legal immigrants. That wasn't a typo for "illegal".

At some point "We shouldn't issue any green cards at all, or any work visas whatsoever" does, I'm sorry, start to sound kinda xenophobic.

Meanwhile, it is the explicit position of the current administration that green card holders can be deported for exercising what would be, for citizens liie you or me, free speech.

This makes green card holders an underclass, a group of people who are in the country legally but subject to penalties and, again, torture that ordinary citizens do not typically have to fear.

People who want strong borders often want work visas to be extremely strict, which allows companies to impose illegal working conditi ons on visa holders under threat of deportation. And, frankly, the more the deportation process is operated as a means of torturing and punishing deportees, the more leverage said companies have over their legal workers.

Story below the cut to avoid a paywall.

There was no explanation, no warning. One minute, I was in an immigration office talking to an officer about my work visa, which had been approved months before and allowed me, a Canadian, to work in the US. The next, I was told to put my hands against the wall, and patted down like a criminal before being sent to an Ice detention center without the chance to talk to a lawyer.

I grew up in Whitehorse, Yukon, a small town in the northernmost part of Canada. I always knew I wanted to do something bigger with my life. I left home early and moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, where I built a career spanning multiple industries – acting in film and television, owning bars and restaurants, flipping condos and managing Airbnbs.

In my 30s, I found my true passion working in the health and wellness industry. I was given the opportunity to help launch an American brand of health tonics called Holy! Water – a job that would involve moving to the US.

I was granted my trade Nafta work visa, which allows Canadian and Mexican citizens to work in the US in specific professional occupations, on my second attempt. It goes without saying, then, that I have no criminal record. I also love the US and consider myself to be a kind, hard-working person.

I started working in California and travelled back and forth between Canada and the US multiple times without any complications – until one day, upon returning to the US, a border officer questioned me about my initial visa denial and subsequent visa approval. He asked why I had gone to the San Diego border the second time to apply. I explained that that was where my lawyer’s offices were, and that he had wanted to accompany me to ensure there were no issues.

After a long interrogation, the officer told me it seemed “shady” and that my visa hadn’t been properly processed. He claimed I also couldn’t work for a company in the US that made use of hemp – one of the beverage ingredients. He revoked my visa, and told me I could still work for the company from Canada, but if I wanted to return to the US, I would need to reapply.

I was devastated; I had just started building a life in California. I stayed in Canada for the next few months, and was eventually offered a similar position with a different health and wellness brand.

I restarted the visa process and returned to the same immigration office at the San Diego border, since they had processed my visa before and I was familiar with it. Hours passed, with many confused opinions about my case. The officer I spoke to was kind but told me that, due to my previous issues, I needed to apply for my visa through the consulate. I told her I hadn’t been aware I needed to apply that way, but had no problem doing it.

Then she said something strange: “You didn’t do anything wrong. You are not in trouble, you are not a criminal.”

I remember thinking: Why would she say that? Of course I’m not a criminal!

She then told me they had to send me back to Canada. That didn’t concern me; I assumed I would simply book a flight home. But as I sat searching for flights, a man approached me.

“Come with me,” he said.

There was no explanation, no warning. He led me to a room, took my belongings from my hands and ordered me to put my hands against the wall. A woman immediately began patting me down. The commands came rapid-fire, one after another, too fast to process.

They took my shoes and pulled out my shoelaces.

“What are you doing? What is happening?” I asked.

“You are being detained.”

“I don’t understand. What does that mean? For how long?”

“I don’t know.”

That would be the response to nearly every question I would ask over the next two weeks: “I don’t know.”

They brought me downstairs for a series of interviews and medical questions, searched my bags and told me I had to get rid of half my belongings because I couldn’t take everything with me.

“Take everything with me where?” I asked.

A woman asked me for the name of someone they could contact on my behalf. In moments like this, you realize you don’t actually know anyone’s phone number anymore. By some miracle, I had recently memorized my best friend Britt’s number because I had been putting my grocery points on her account.

I gave them her phone number.

They handed me a mat and a folded-up sheet of aluminum foil.

“What is this?”

“Your blanket.”

“I don’t understand.”

I was taken to a tiny, freezing cement cell with bright fluorescent lights and a toilet. There were five other women lying on their mats with the aluminum sheets wrapped over them, looking like dead bodies. The guard locked the door behind me.

For two days, we remained in that cell, only leaving briefly for food. The lights never turned off, we never knew what time it was and no one answered our questions. No one in the cell spoke English, so I either tried to sleep or meditate to keep from having a breakdown. I didn’t trust the food, so I fasted, assuming I wouldn’t be there long.

On the third day, I was finally allowed to make a phone call. I called Britt and told her that I didn’t understand what was happening, that no one would tell me when I was going home, and that she was my only contact.

They gave me a stack of paperwork to sign and told me I was being given a five-year ban unless I applied for re-entry through the consulate. The officer also said it didn’t matter whether I signed the papers or not; it was happening regardless.

I was so delirious that I just signed. I told them I would pay for my flight home and asked when I could leave.

No answer.

Then they moved me to another cell – this time with no mat or blanket. I sat on the freezing cement floor for hours. That’s when I realized they were processing me into real jail: the Otay Mesa Detention Center.

I was told to shower, given a jail uniform, fingerprinted and interviewed. I begged for information.

“How long will I be here?”

“I don’t know your case,” the man said. “Could be days. Could be weeks. But I’m telling you right now – you need to mentally prepare yourself for months.”

Months.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

I was taken to the nurse’s office for a medical check. She asked what had happened to me. She had never seen a Canadian there before. When I told her my story, she grabbed my hand and said: “Do you believe in God?”

I told her I had only recently found God, but that I now believed in God more than anything.

“I believe God brought you here for a reason,” she said. “I know it feels like your life is in a million pieces, but you will be OK. Through this, I think you are going to find a way to help others.”

At the time, I didn’t know what that meant. She asked if she could pray for me. I held her hands and wept.

I felt like I had been sent an angel.

I was then placed in a real jail unit: two levels of cells surrounding a common area, just like in the movies. I was put in a tiny cell alone with a bunk bed and a toilet.

The best part: there were blankets. After three days without one, I wrapped myself in mine and finally felt some comfort.

For the first day, I didn’t leave my cell. I continued fasting, terrified that the food might make me sick. The only available water came from the tap attached to the toilet in our cells or a sink in the common area, neither of which felt safe to drink.

Eventually, I forced myself to step out, meet the guards and learn the rules. One of them told me: “No fighting.”

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” I joked. He laughed.

I asked if there had ever been a fight here.

“In this unit? No,” he said. “No one in this unit has a criminal record.”

That’s when I started meeting the other women.

That’s when I started hearing their stories.

And that’s when I made a decision: I would never allow myself to feel sorry for my situation again. No matter how hard this was, I had to be grateful. Because every woman I met was in an even more difficult position than mine.

There were around 140 of us in our unit. Many women had lived and worked in the US legally for years but had overstayed their visas – often after reapplying and being denied. They had all been detained without warning.

If someone is a criminal, I agree they should be taken off the streets. But not one of these women had a criminal record. These women acknowledged that they shouldn’t have overstayed and took responsibility for their actions. But their frustration wasn’t about being held accountable; it was about the endless, bureaucratic limbo they had been trapped in.

The real issue was how long it took to get out of the system, with no clear answers, no timeline and no way to move forward. Once deported, many have no choice but to abandon everything they own because the cost of shipping their belongings back is too high.

I met a woman who had been on a road trip with her husband. She said they had 10-year work visas. While driving near the San Diego border, they mistakenly got into a lane leading to Mexico. They stopped and told the agent they didn’t have their passports on them, expecting to be redirected. Instead, they were detained. They are both pastors.

I met a family of three who had been living in the US for 11 years with work authorizations. They paid taxes and were waiting for their green cards. Every year, the mother had to undergo a background check, but this time, she was told to bring her whole family. When they arrived, they were taken into custody and told their status would now be processed from within the detention center.

Another woman from Canada had been living in the US with her husband who was detained after a traffic stop. She admitted she had overstayed her visa and accepted that she would be deported. But she had been stuck in the system for almost six weeks because she hadn’t had her passport. Who runs casual errands with their passport?

One woman had a 10-year visa. When it expired, she moved back to her home country, Venezuela. She admitted she had overstayed by one month before leaving. Later, she returned for a vacation and entered the US without issue. But when she took a domestic flight from Miami to Los Angeles, she was picked up by Ice and detained. She couldn’t be deported because Venezuela wasn’t accepting deportees. She didn’t know when she was getting out.

There was a girl from India who had overstayed her student visa for three days before heading back home. She then came back to the US on a new, valid visa to finish her master’s degree and was handed over to Ice due to the three days she had overstayed on her previous visa.

There were women who had been picked up off the street, from outside their workplaces, from their homes. All of these women told me that they had been detained for time spans ranging from a few weeks to 10 months. One woman’s daughter was outside the detention center protesting for her release.

That night, the pastor invited me to a service she was holding. A girl who spoke English translated for me as the women took turns sharing their prayers – prayers for their sick parents, for the children they hadn’t seen in weeks, for the loved ones they had been torn away from.

Then, unexpectedly, they asked if they could pray for me. I was new here, and they wanted to welcome me. They formed a circle around me, took my hands and prayed. I had never felt so much love, energy and compassion from a group of strangers in my life. Everyone was crying.

At 3am the next day, I was woken up in my cell.

“Pack your bag. You’re leaving.”

I jolted upright. “I get to go home?”

The officer shrugged. “I don’t know where you’re going.”

Of course. No one ever knew anything.

I grabbed my things and went downstairs, where 10 other women stood in silence, tears streaming down their faces. But these weren’t happy tears. That was the moment I learned the term “transferred”.

For many of these women, detention centers had become a twisted version of home. They had formed bonds, established routines and found slivers of comfort in the friendships they had built. Now, without warning, they were being torn apart and sent somewhere new. Watching them say goodbye, clinging to each other, was gut-wrenching.

I had no idea what was waiting for me next. In hindsight, that was probably for the best.

Our next stop was Arizona, the San Luis Regional Detention Center. The transfer process lasted 24 hours, a sleepless, grueling ordeal. This time, men were transported with us. Roughly 50 of us were crammed into a prison bus for the next five hours, packed together – women in the front, men in the back. We were bound in chains that wrapped tightly around our waists, with our cuffed hands secured to our bodies and shackles restraining our feet, forcing every movement into a slow, clinking struggle.

When we arrived at our next destination, we were forced to go through the entire intake process all over again, with medical exams, fingerprinting – and pregnancy tests; they lined us up in a filthy cell, squatting over a communal toilet, holding Dixie cups of urine while the nurse dropped pregnancy tests in each of our cups. It was disgusting.

We sat in freezing-cold jail cells for hours, waiting for everyone to be processed. Across the room, one of the women suddenly spotted her husband. They had both been detained and were now seeing each other for the first time in weeks.

The look on her face – pure love, relief and longing – was something I’ll never forget.

We were beyond exhausted. I felt like I was hallucinating.

The guard tossed us each a blanket: “Find a bed.”

There were no pillows. The room was ice cold, and one blanket wasn’t enough. Around me, women lay curled into themselves, heads covered, looking like a room full of corpses. This place made the last jail feel like the Four Seasons.

I kept telling myself: Do not let this break you.

Thirty of us shared one room. We were given one Styrofoam cup for water and one plastic spoon that we had to reuse for every meal. I eventually had to start trying to eat and, sure enough, I got sick. None of the uniforms fit, and everyone had men’s shoes on. The towels they gave us to shower were hand towels. They wouldn’t give us more blankets. The fluorescent lights shined on us 24/7.

Everything felt like it was meant to break you. Nothing was explained to us. I wasn’t given a phone call. We were locked in a room, no daylight, with no idea when we would get out.

I tried to stay calm as every fiber of my being raged towards panic mode. I didn’t know how I would tell Britt where I was. Then, as if sent from God, one of the women showed me a tablet attached to the wall where I could send emails. I only remembered my CEO’s email from memory. I typed out a message, praying he would see it.

He responded.

Through him, I was able to connect with Britt. She told me that they were working around the clock trying to get me out. But no one had any answers; the system made it next to impossible. I told her about the conditions in this new place, and that was when we decided to go to the media.

She started working with a reporter and asked whether I would be able to call her so she could loop him in. The international phone account that Britt had previously tried to set up for me wasn’t working, so one of the other women offered to let me use her phone account to make the call.

We were all in this together.

With nothing to do in my cell but talk, I made new friends – women who had risked everything for the chance at a better life for themselves and their families.

Through them, I learned the harsh reality of seeking asylum. Showing me their physical scars, they explained how they had paid smugglers anywhere from $20,000 to $60,000 to reach the US border, enduring brutal jungles and horrendous conditions.

One woman had been offered asylum in Mexico within two weeks but had been encouraged to keep going to the US. Now, she was stuck, living in a nightmare, separated from her young children for months. She sobbed, telling me how she felt like the worst mother in the world.

Many of these women were highly educated and spoke multiple languages. Yet, they had been advised to pretend they didn’t speak English because it would supposedly increase their chances of asylum.

Some believed they were being used as examples, as warnings to others not to try to come.

Women were starting to panic in this new facility, and knowing I was most likely the first person to get out, they wrote letters and messages for me to send to their families.

It felt like we had all been kidnapped, thrown into some sort of sick psychological experiment meant to strip us of every ounce of strength and dignity.

We were from different countries, spoke different languages and practiced different religions. Yet, in this place, none of that mattered. Everyone took care of each other. Everyone shared food. Everyone held each other when someone broke down. Everyone fought to keep each other’s hope alive.

I got a message from Britt. My story had started to blow up in the media.

Almost immediately after, I was told I was being released.

My Ice agent, who had never spoken to me, told my lawyer I could have left sooner if I had signed a withdrawal form, and that they hadn’t known I would pay for my own flight home.

From the moment I arrived, I begged every officer I saw to let me pay for my own ticket home. Not a single one of them ever spoke to me about my case.

To put things into perspective: I had a Canadian passport, lawyers, resources, media attention, friends, family and even politicians advocating for me. Yet, I was still detained for nearly two weeks.

Imagine what this system is like for every other person in there.

A small group of us were transferred back to San Diego at 2am – one last road trip, once again shackled in chains. I was then taken to the airport, where two officers were waiting for me. The media was there, so the officers snuck me in through a side door, trying to avoid anyone seeing me in restraints. I was beyond grateful that, at the very least, I didn’t have to walk through the airport in chains.

To my surprise, the officers escorting me were incredibly kind, and even funny. It was the first time I had laughed in weeks.

I asked if I could put my shoelaces back on.

“Yes,” one of them said with a grin. “But you better not run.”

“Yeah,” the other added. “Or we’ll have to tackle you in the airport. That’ll really make the headlines.”

I laughed, then told them I had spent a lot of time observing the guards during my detention and I couldn’t believe how often I saw humans treating other humans with such disregard. “But don’t worry,” I joked. “You two get five stars.”

When I finally landed in Canada, my mom and two best friends were waiting for me. So was the media. I spoke to them briefly, numb and delusional from exhaustion.

It was surreal listening to my friends recount everything they had done to get me out: working with lawyers, reaching out to the media, making endless calls to detention centers, desperately trying to get through to Ice or anyone who could help. They said the entire system felt rigged, designed to make it nearly impossible for anyone to get out.

The reality became clear: Ice detention isn’t just a bureaucratic nightmare. It’s a business. These facilities are privately owned and run for profit.

Companies like CoreCivic and GEO Group receive government funding based on the number of people they detain, which is why they lobby for stricter immigration policies. It’s a lucrative business: CoreCivic made over $560m from Ice contracts in a single year. In 2024, GEO Group made more than $763m from Ice contracts.

The more detainees, the more money they make. It stands to reason that these companies have no incentive to release people quickly. What I had experienced was finally starting to make sense.

[ater-love]

Elain trying to suppress her moans while Azriel is fucking her because she don’t want to get caught

Azriel sliding his fingers inside Elain’s mouth to keep her quiet

[hotchnersangel]

STRIKES

Aaron Hotchner.

t/w: abusive relationship, toxic themes, speeding, injuries, bruises, protective hotch, emotional abuse etc

**do not read if these trigger you**

….

If self-sabotage was a person, every detail of every description in every byline would lead to you. You never meant for the outcome of your life to end this way but suddenly you lost your spark and the team started to notice. It started when you no longer went to every outing the BAU had, at first the team thought you were busy and they shortly found out you were. You were in a relationship.

The relationship between you and Alex was quick in growing and passion swiftly followed. During the honeymoon period- he was your everything. The team could see by the way you spoke so fondly of him. Over the course of 4 months, they eventually met Alex. From what you had seen, the team got on with him. All was finally well until it wasn't. After a dinner with Rossi in his mansion and the rest of the team, Alex was unhappy with Aaron Hotchner and how you acted around him. He created this idea that you and Aaron had something going on and he asked you politely to cut him off.

"He has a thing for you, how can you not see that?" He furrows his brows as he clenches his hand around the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white and his tone drops into a deeper one.

"He is my boss, Alex." you retort, reminding him that he has nothing to worry about. "You're being silly."

At those words, he inhales sharply and looks at you harshly. "Silly? I tell you how I feel and you tell me my feelings are invalid?" He shouts at you now, his hand hitting the steering wheel making you flinch slightly.

"Alex, no- can you just slow down please?" You say quieter now, holding onto the side of the car as you notice the way he is starting to flatten hid foot on the gas and speed. You do not recognise the man you are in the car with at the moment and that scares you.

He smirks slightly at your discomfort. "Why? You scared sweetie?" He condescends you, pressing further onto the gas pedal and starting to drive recklessly. "It's fine babe, you're just being silly."

That is when you reach a turning point in your relationship. You turned up to work the next day with a fake smile, then a fake one after that until your happiness was turned into a luxury.

The night after your argument, he seemed apologetic. His hand caressed your cheek as you looked at him with sad eyes. "You really scared me."

"I know, baby- Fuck..." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I was just angry and I'm sorry. I Love you, you know I love you."

And so, you forgave him. Big mistake.

The team didn't clock onto your unusual behaviour until Alex was brought into a conversation and you froze up slightly. Aaron had noticed, of course, he had noticed the look of fear that caressed your eyes screaming to get out. But, your words betrayed that theory. "Yeah, we are doing good."

You started to go home late, blaming it on paperwork that needed to be filled. That is when you started to show up to work looking worse for wear. You would have deep bags under your eyes like you had not got an ounce of sleep and you filled your coffee up an extra 1.2% more per day, according to Reid. Sometimes you would show up with smudged mascara from the night before, maybe even a face full of makeup from the night before. Though, you never usually wore a lot of makeup to work.

You grew distant from your team, your friends and your family. Alex even tried to convince you to quit your job but you declined his attempts.

About a year into your relationship with Alex, the second strike occurred. During an argument, he grabbed your arm. It was like the world stopped spinning at the force he did it with. You will forever remember the way his fingers clenched until they were bleached white with fury and the claustrophobic tingle radiating through your body as his grip didn't loosen. You were stood in your shared kitchen, having moved in together- into his apartment.

You looked towards him in a panic, tears burning and pricking the back of your eyes. It was like the breath was whipped from your chest and all you wanted was to break free. "Get off of me," you whisper fragile and frail as you plead for your freedom. Which he does, immediately and you rush into your bedroom and towards the window. Silent tears fell from your cheeks as you examined your arm. Freshly red and swollen as an instant bruise from the intensity of his grip scars the innocence of your gentle skin. The harsh tone was prominent against the natural colour of your skin. At that moment, you wanted your team but you felt so alone. So, you settled for Alex.

He followed you into the room shortly rested his hand on your shoulder and frowned. "Babe, I'm sorry. I love you so much, I'm sorry I didn't mean to grab you that hard."

You don't look at him.

"Babe, look at me..." Slowly, you do and he wipes the tears from your cheeks with a tender touch, a sharp contrast to how he was just gripping you- and you close your eyes at his touch. "Don't cry, you're too pretty to cry."

"You hurt me." You frown at him, his gaze falling to the markings on your arm and he holds his fingers against the bridge of his nose. "Did I do that?"

You nod, looking out of the window.

"Come on, let me bandage it up." He says softly, guiding you Into the bathroom as he cares for the wound that he caused so diligently. He mutters an 'I love you' every few moments.

What a fool you feel for staying but the love for him defeats any emotion otherwise you could hold towards him. This is when the excuses come out.

At work, five of you pile into one SUV, Hotch in the driver's seat- JJ beside him in the passenger seat then in the back was you squished between Morgan and Rossi. As Morgan got into the car, he pushed against your arm and you flinched in pain, pulling your arm to your chest and hissing in pain. "Ouch,"

He looked worriedly over you, everyone in the car doing so.

"Have you hurt yourself?" Aaron asks through the mirror, looking towards you skeptically. You go silent and sigh.

"Just caught it I guess. It's probably stiff from all the paperwork we have been doing," you joke and the team laughs, Aaron however does not.

"Hotch, you gotta stop giving her so much paperwork-" Morgan says playfully as we start driving towards the precinct to meet up with Spencer and Emily.

"She gets the same as you."

"It seems like it takes you forever," Morgan continues looking at you. "When was the last time you left on time?"

You sigh and look at him, "I'm dyslexic, It takes longer for me to read and write it." You tell them and it isn't a lie, just you have purposely been ensuring things are better for Hotch so he can get home to Jack sooner.

"You can say that, you messaged me the other day asking if the squatting was successful." JJ giggled, smiling fondly at you. "Luckily I speak your language fluently and understood you were not asking about my gym session but the swatting."

A few weeks later, you had gotten home late and Alex started an argument about missing his family meal. You had just got back from a case and there was no option or way you could have got back In time but he would not accept that answer.

"Were you fucking cheating on me?" He shouts at you, his pupils dark as he steps towards you, backing you against the wall. Under his stare, you flustered which made him assume you did. He grabbed you by the neck. You cried. He apologised. You excused it as an accident.

The next day, you turned up to work in a turtle neck. No one had ever seen you in a turtle neck but suddenly the next few weeks meant you had to wear them.

You were called out to another case that week and the team had to share hotel rooms. JJ and Emily bunked up. Spencer and Morgan bunked up, Rossi outwardly refused to share a room and so you were left to room with Hotch.

At the end of the day, you were in your room on the phone with Alex. Aaron was with the rest of the team at dinner on their way back.

"I miss you, babe," he sighed into the phone, "Where are you now?"

"In the hotel in Nashville... I think the team are on their way back now." You tell him, standing to face the window- the view was beautiful despite the cheaper hotel than the usual BAU budget would afford.

"How is everyone?" He asks plainly and you state a 'good'.

"Good, I'm sharing a room with the girls-" you lie and you feel awful, but he would actually kill you if he knew you were sharing with Aaron.

Although the universe seems to hate you as after saying that, the door opens and Aaron walks in and fails to notice that you are on the phone. "Hey, I brought you some food back-"

"Who the hell was that?" Alex says abruptly, a harsh venom laced in his undertone, "That better not be who I think it is."

You sigh silently cursing the universe and you turn to Aaron and catch his eye, he furrows his brows at your perplexed state. You clear your throat and look back to the window.

"Alex... don't do that please, it's not like that." You say in a hushed tone, feeling awkward knowing Aaron can hear everything going on between the two of you and you swore to yourself you would never let any members of the team see this side of your relationship due to the easy suggestions that it was becoming toxic and hostile, which you believed it wasn’t.

"You expect me to believe you? I knew it, I fucking knew you were a whore-" He shouts and you turn the volume down on your phone panicked, intense clicking which made it more obvious that you were trying to be suspicious- yet it seems to blast out ten times louder and your heart starts to race to the point you could hear it pulsing in your ears.

"Alex-"

"No- we will talk when you get home but best believe you're going to regret cheating on me." He states darkly and your breath picks up.

"Alex, listen to me please-"

"No, you can have nothing to say to me right now."

"I love you." You plea in return, your voice coming out exhausted, worn down and emotional. The love you have for this man was so evident in the way you even addressed him.

"I am disappointed in you,” you feel a part of your heart shatter. “You have done this- not me," he shouts through the phone and hangs up, leaving you to stare into the distance, the abyss full of spiralling worries cascading around your body as your mind is sucked further down the turmoil. The abrupt silence was ear piercingly loud. Aaron's sat on the bed on his phone but you just know that he heard every word.

Again, Alex has left you silently crying at the window. After a moment, you wipe your eyes that streamed with frozen tears which made your emotions obvious and Aaron sits up alarmed at the action. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," you whisper and go to the bathroom, taking one glimpse and crying at your reflection in the mirror. You stare into the mirror, the deep bruise on your neck feeling tight and wildly suffocating suddenly. You rest your hand over the bruise softly, reliving the cruel memory at the hand of the man you love and you throw on a hoodie, pulling the neckline to cover the raging discolouration. You walk back into the room and take the food Aaron brought you back.

"I'm sorry you heard that." You say softly, not looking at him but looking ahead, turning your side of the light off so he would not catch sight of your neck.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly, looking towards you with worry and noticing how you can not look at him. "How often does he talk to you like that? "

"Not often- we just are struggling with the distance is all..."

"He should never talk to you like that." He states firmly, his tone still laced with an unknown softness.

"Thank you for dinner."

“Of course,” Aaron sighs with little content, worry very evidently etched onto his features creating an unnecessary frown against his aging soft skin. “Try get some sleep, yeah?”

The next few days brought a struggle to hide all the injuries marked on your body, if Aaron hadn’t seen so much of the conversation last night- you would have given some more leeway but you knew his suspicions were high. However, on the very last night Aaron caught a glimpse of your throat as you itched your neck, a hardly noticeable action that could be played off as a shadow, but Aaron knew deep down that despite the slither of hope he nursed within, that it was not the case. That a deep purple bruise rests under your turtle neck. He waits until you are in the safety of your shared hotel room to inquire about the injury but he already knows what has happened.

"Show me." He states simply, looking at you as you lay on your single bed. You furrow your brows, looking at him confused as you stand up nervously and move towards the window once again, taking in the sights.

"What?" You inquire.

"Show me your neck." He states and your world quite literally stops. An incessant ringing echoes through your ears desperately wanting a plea, your head feeling so dizzy at the continuous sound buzzing away, the sudden weight heaved onto your merely strong shoulders felt like too big a burden to carry and you slowly realised that it was time to accept your fate. You failed.

He stands up, moving towards you now and you shake your head, laughing softly. "Oh- that, that's nothing. I'm clumsy you wouldn't believe the story-"

"No, I won't because I have an idea who did that to you. Please, show me." He comes closer and he moves his hand up, maybe too quickly with the severity of the situation but every movement was transferred with care and non-malicious intent, simply Aaron’s desire to protect you from your demons, from the evil you are surrounded by, however you could not help but flinch.

"What has happened to you?" He asks softly, retreating his hand apologetically, his face contorts to one you have never seen before. Affectionate. Caring. Melancholy. You look at him once more, trying to shake your head and laugh to make humour of the situation but your walls break down involuntarily and a tear falls from your eyes, betraying your integrity.

"It's fine, it was just an accident." You excuse after a long pause and Aaron rests his hand on your shoulder, slower and gentle this time, almost like a feather touch that you could barely even feel.

"Come here," he rests his hands on your back and the back of your head, holding you delicately as he pulls you in for a hug. More tears fall from your eyes. "This isn't okay, people that love you would never hurt you, okay?"

"Really, it was an accident and he was just angry-"

"No level of anger should ever resort in you being hurt." He says firmly, a burning fire raging inside of him. "Especially not to the levels you have been assaulted-"

"He loves me-"

"No, he loves manipulating you" Aaron stated bluntly, knowing you need to hear it no matter how painful that realisation may be.

“I know.” You admit after another comfortable yet tense moment, your voice merely a whisper.

You went to bed shortly after that, though you did not sleep a wink, never even tried and neither did Aaron. You just lay in your separate beds, in silence, his presence offering you safety and a warmth you had not felt in a long time.

"You should break up with him."

There was silence, until you rolled over, to face the wall, uttering two words that encouraged the darkness both physically and emotionally . "I can't."

[xan-izme]

Dubble Life 14 (Batfam x reader x ACTSV)

Summary: No matter how much you think you know yourself, you seem to still not understand why you do the things you do.

Part 13,

When you wake up, things felt, more tense. Bruce was stricter on not letting you out on certain hours. Even Alfred wouldn't let you slip out the door without him coming along. Dick clung onto you, kept trying to do everything for you till he had to go back to Bludhaven. Damian was weirdly distant. Not cold, just Distant. Tim seemed take over what Dick was doing to you, just a lot less clingy. Helping you more than usual, even when he was clearly tired.

And Jason?

He was pushing your damn buttons.

"You should stop."

"Huh?"

You stare at the older man with confusion. You two stood in an abandoned building. You were in a spider suit that was darker to blend within the dark. Jason had just taken care of a few thugs just as you finished throwing an anomaly into a portal to the Spider Society HQ.

"This thing with Alchemax, I can handle the fighting, and you can-"

"Whatever bullshit your trying to say. Spit it out. Don't beat around the bush." You cut Jason off, you didn't have to take your mask off for Jason to know you were getting pissed off already.

". . . It's getting dangerous."

The moment Jason said those words you immediately throw your hands in the air while letting out a scoff of disbelief.

"You gotta be kidding me. Are you serious right now?"

"Just hear me out God damn it!" Jason wasn't going to let you just brush him off anymore.

"Joker, Scarecrow and all those other psychos are out now. Trust me when I say your screwed if you run into any of them, doesn't matter if you're meta."

You had your back faced to Jason. Clearly frustrated and upset of this topic. Jason lets out a sigh and shook his head. Before speaking a little more softly

"Come on kid, you haven't even talked about what happened with the fear gas."

". . . That doesn't matter-"

"Yes, it does! Whatever is going on up there-" Jason points to his head; "Will affect your insect ass out here."

". . . Spiders aren't insects."

"Oh, for fucks sakes You know what I mean!" Jason lets out a frustrated sigh.

"Just wait till those psychos are put back in Arkham. . . Please?" Jason walks closer to you. But you walked to an open window to jump out. Before doing so you spoke one last time.

"Fine."

Jason felt slightly relived once you agreed, watching you jump out of the window and swing up to a building.

Miles was working on a new invention, the upbeat music you put on faintly in the background. Miles puts a screwdriver in his mouth as he uses both hands to connect the wires on his invention. But he pauses as he felt a pair of eyes on him. He slowly turns his head to see you on his bed, a book in hand, just staring at him with a small smile.

"What?" He gave you a look of confusion. Your brow quirks up at his confrontation "Hm?"

"You're staring at me with that creepy smile of yours." Miles takes the screwdriver out of his mouth and waves it around as he spoke. You gave a fake offended gasp.

"Exuuusse me??" Your hand now on your chest, exaggerating the feeling of offence. You expected some form of amusement from Miles, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere

You tilt your head "Hey, space boy, what's got you so distracted, I come here to spend time with you and you're not even yapping about your usual nerdy stuff." You spoke in a joking manner, but there was a hint of concern.

Miles stayed silent for a moment. Your playful demeanor falters as you see that he's bothered about something. But he doesn't want to talk about it. But you know it was about you.

You sighed as you scoot closer to the edge of the bed where Miles sat.

"Your upset." You nudged his shoulder with your own. His silence only confirms your suspicion. After a few moments Miles finally spoke up.

"Me and Uncle Aaron found out who was responsible for the explosion at the bridge. The one that got your mother killed. . ."

You paused at the last sentance.

"Oh . . ."

"It was Kingpin."

You hum and nod. "I see. . . he's in prison right now, right? He won't hurt anyone else for a long awhile." You rub his shoulder to reassure him. But this only angered him.

"Why are you so calm!?" He brushed your hand off and let out a huff of annoyance as he stood up from the bed with his back faced to you. Your brows furrowed at his sudden burst of anger.

"Miles-"

"It doesn't matter that he's in jail now. He's going to get out. He has the money, Has the connections. No matter what we do they always come back and they hurt more people!" His frustration on the situation felt, familiar. You had the same feeling once.

"Miles. . ."

He ignores your first warning he goes on. "What's the use of fighting crime when they just end up killing more people!? Why- why can't we kill people like Kingpin!?"

"Miles Gonzalo Morales! ¡Ya es suficiente de ti!" Your stern voice almost booming. Silence falls upon the room. Miles, still upset spoke again.

"He killed your mother."

You were not having his attitude today.

"Do not use her death as an excuse! you know killing has been and never will be an option for us. It makes us no better than them."

Both of you were angry. Angry at each other, at the world. Just two angry teens in a room.

The disagreement with Miles dragged. The two of you didn't speak to each other for a few days, and you were agitated to get back out on patrol feeling Alchemax is up to something and the longer you wait the worse things will get.

You were able to slip away from a nagging Alfred. You made it past a very sleep deprived Tim who usually , once you made it through the doors of the manor you were met with a surprising view of Ms. Dean walking up the stairs to the doors.

"Mrs. Dean! What are you doing here?" Your brow quirked up in confusion and a little curious. "Aw, do you miss me? we just had a session two days ago." You spoke in a joking tone, but Mrs. Dean was not amused.

"I'm actually here to, discuses a few more things with you."

You sighed, you walked up closer to the older woman, circling her.

"And I'm assuming Bruce is making you do house calls now?" Your tone uninterested on whatever Bruce is trying to get out from you. Whatever it is. You must admit, the man is more insistent than you imagined.

"Actually, I'm here on my own accorded. I was hoping we could talk, off the records of course."

Mrs. Deans words caused you to gain interest.

"Seriously?" You gave the woman a look of surprise mixed with suspicion. Mrs. Dean nods "Seriously."

You don't sense any interior motive. At the moment. So, you agreed. The two of you going into Gotham city and stopped at a bat-burger place.

Mrs. Dean watched you with a blank expression as you devoured your burger.

"Mmm, these are, okay. I honestly like the burgers back in New York." You say this while your tray is literally empty.

"So, what did you want to chat about. My childhood? any daddy issues you assume I have? oh oh! trust issues. Yes, I remember you said that was one of my problems, no?" You of course were acting sort of passive aggressive; you have just been so frustrated with the recent events that it was getting harder to be or even act positive.

And Ms. Dean saw this, her own daughters show this sort of attitude when keeping in their anger for too long.

"Actually, I just wanted to see how you were doing."

You gave the older woman a look of confusion and slight suspicion.

"Ms. Dean-"

"Please, call me Alice." Ms. Dean- Alice insisted.

You stayed silent for a moment before letting out a small scoff of amusement. "Alright, Alice. Is this something you normally do with your clients? or am I just, special."

"Just think of this as a friendly meet up."

You almost scoffed

"Come on, Alice. What is this really about?"

Alice inhaled deeply. Seeming to almost bracing herself before speaking.

"I just- I don't understand why you didn't confront me about the camera. You knew the whole time. Yet, you didn't say anything for weeks." The older woman was clearly stressed on this topic. Which made you smirk in amusement as you just shrugged.

"You're the therapist, you tell me."

Alice's eyes narrowed, sighing as she leans into her seat.

"You weren't completely lying in our sessions. . . You told the truth. Half of the time. You're like an open book, but in a whole different, complex language." Alice glanced up to see your invested into this conversation. Curiosity in your eyes as you leaned into the table that kept the distance between you two.

"And because of that, you assume no one will take the time to truly understand you. But when someone actually does take the time to try and understand you. You panic. And you change yourself to . . ." Alice stops. She doesn't stop because she came to an understanding of something. Quite the opposite. She doesn't know why you do it.

You sighed, slightly disappointed. "You almost nailed it. Your pretty scary actually, haha!" You laughed.

". . . I'm scared. I change myself because I'm scared." Your cocky facade fades, just a little. Still present but fades enough to shock Alice to an extent.

"Why?"

"Donno. . . was kinda hoping you'd figure that out for me."

Silence falls between you two. One thing is for sure, your not paying for the food.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___----___---___

A/n: This is really short, but you all deserve at least SOMETHING! So here yall go❤️

@huening-ly,@mariadvorak, @superherosdystopiafreak, @chelluv, @houseissofine, @esposadomd, @greyeyedmockingbird, @1-800-daisy, @c0c0-puffsxxx @arthurswife, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @josiepapen, @natashanice165, @amber-content, @mahbeanz @azurewisteria, @seraph101, @skepvids, @lara20aral, @iwasveronica, @jackrabbitem, @nickey-diano, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @sekidekiboombeki, @masters-blog, @lulpeepkins, @sgarrush-blush, @redsakura101, @danart501, @definitely-not-sammie, @khaleesihavilliard, @reallynotsoconfident, @uknowimdumb, @bat1212

[ninelieswithme]

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。

𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛’𝚜

𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

⛧ ᴛᴡ = sʟɪɢʜᴛ ɢᴏʀᴇ, sᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, sʟɪɢʜᴛ ɴsꜰᴡ.

⛧ sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ －after moving to a old American suburban  town after your parents split, you found yourself here in a upstate univercity, bumping into new faces.. one being a very important someone~

⛧ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛᴇ － HAYYY ɪᴍ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴇᴇᴇᴘʏʏʏ ɪ ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏs sᴏʀʀʏ ɪʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴᴠɪɴᴄɪʙʟᴇ/ʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴇᴠɪʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ!! Also I drew him :3 (ps don’t hate im pretty new to digi art 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻) HES AT THE BOTTOM IOF THE POST BBGS also this was really fun till their were so many plot endings ughhh ☹️☹️ BUT YEA ITS LIKE MARK OF S1-S2-S3 all kinda together 😭😭 + I had this on repeat when I was making this.

⛧ ʜᴇʀᴏ x ᴄɪᴠɪʟɪᴀɴ － 2.1k ᴡᴏʀᴅs, EXTENSION AT THE BOTTOM - 679 words additional :3 - overall 2.7k+ words

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ!!

ʀᴇʙʟᴏɴɢs/ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs ᴀʀᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇ��ɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ!

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。

Your worn sneakers skidded and slid down the halls tiling, you tripping on your laces every so often.

You were late.. Already??

First day in your new school?

And you’ve already fucked it up..

Way to go Y/N.

…

You really need to invest in a clock.

Seriously

18 and still not waking up on time..

Come on that’s embarrassing, it’s not first grade!!

You cut corners, ignoring the occasional question from a walking by teacher.

Your head was down, a map of the school clutched in your hand, undone laces swinging,

You didn’t see him, He sure did until it was too late.

You fell head first into his chest, even in a sweater you could feel tone muscle.. hell even abs if you looke-

“What are you doing?? He’s not your boyfriend!!”

You mentally scolded yourself, pushing off of him a little to harshly, stumbling back, stepping on your undone lace, landing hard on the cool tile.

“Stupid laces”, you blamed as if you weren’t the one dismissing the concerns.

The scent of old books and something else…musky, almost animalistic.

You dusted yourself, while Mark looked stunned at you..

Shell-shocked even.

You quirked a brow at the guy, him just turning away.. weird..

Obviously you thought the worst like usual, thoughts on asking, A. “is something on my face”, B. “what” or the most likely one you’d say C. “the fuck are you staring at.”

Mm so you chose option D

Apologise.

You’re new, the last thing you need are bully’s.

So you apologised profusely to mark.

Averting eye contact.. idiot..

If you had just stared at him.. you would have seen..

he’s a total nutter

His eyes intense.

Not breaking or yielding, not for a second.

And people think eye fucking isn’t a thing. 🙄🙄

But no.. you’d rather be selfish, look away, make things harder for yourself.

Your map all crumpled.. looks like you’re gonna need another.

You mumbled a final apology.

Eyes averted, looking to the ground, more entertained by silly sneakers than him.

“S..Sorry.. I uh- this is so embarrassing, I’m uh New?, and yea.. fuck this.. I’m just gonna go bye”

Fixing your skirt one last time before walking off.

You held your skirt harshly running off to god knows where, you’ve probably missed your class six times anyways..

When you were out of his fully extended ear shot, he sighed, as if you stole his breath.

His heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

It wasn’t just his heart, he could hear yours, a frantic drumbeat echoing in his ears, a rapid staccato against the thrum of his own.

It was such a pretty sound!!

I mean everything about you seems pretty already..

He heard the shallow, slightly ragged breaths, the frantic whispers of her thoughts – a torrent of self-recrimination and fear of being late.

He could feel the tremor in your hands, the quickening pulse point near your throat, hell, even the subtle shift in weight as you braced herself for the floor.

It was overwhelming.

Mark possessed powers, he’s a Viltrumite after all, and from what his dad said that’s somehow a big deal.

But you didn’t know that..

You didn’t know shit.. all you knew was that you just bumped into a really weird kid..

Not fucking invincible

He could hear the inner workings of others – their heartbeat, their breathing, the silent symphony of their anxieties.. even desires.

His powers more burdensome than helpful.. everyone around him always dying.. it’s not fair.

ITS NOT FAIR??

WHY DOES HE HAVE TO SPRAY GUTS AND GORE GALORE FOR A PLANET HE DOESN’T EVEN WANT TO PROTECT?!!!

NO NO NO NO!!

ITS SIMPLY NOT FAIR!

ITS HIS DADS JOB NOT HIS?

But You.. You were different.

You gave him a bigger meaning.. after dad left and had Mark in charge.. everything’s so fucking bleak..

Don’t get him started on Amber.. or Eve

Their both headaches

Whining birds, bitch and squawking, only ever caring when it suits the chicks.

Hell now he has to manage this ungrateful planet, look after a sibling that’s off leash..

This is all too difficult.. he only wanted to help.. to help this dying planet.. and what he gets in return.

A slap in the face

Well that’s too bad..

Cuz he’s so fucking close to just splitting this planet in half and run thousands of people 6 feet under.

But you.. gee, this feeling.. he’s never felt it before and never wants to stop feeling it.

With the small seconds he was with you.

You’ve just changed not just Earths whole destiny.. but well

Your own.

it was a tidal wave, a sensory overload that left him breathless.

Left him feeling like he just took his true first free breath, a rebirth.

Like love a first sight.. mmm nahhh more like.. It was love at first…collision.. no no no love at first breath.

Maybe even love at first life.

A few days had passed and well you were settling in fine, family’s dialled down after the divorce.

But mark.. oh no he hasn’t lost any momentum.

Giving up is something foreign to him.

So it didn’t take long for Mark to get notes on you,

Especially that mark’s desperate enough to ask GDA..

Seriously.. Ceci…

After WHAT HE DID TO MARK.. and he’s able to set that aside for a few address leaks 😋 Mm your favourite things or two.

Cecil didn’t want to at first, especially after mark nearly killing him for what.. the third time now.

But hay it’s hard to say no to the strongest being on the fucking planet right

The spawn of the Omni-Man himself.. the same man that killed all the guardians of the globe.

And maybe a spring of hypocritical threats “i don’t do threats..” mm that’s not what Cecil remembers..

More on the lines of “Cecil I swear.. if you don’t fucking tell me, I’ll pop your skull like a pop rock and use your brains as a face mask.. TELL ME Y/N’A NUMBER YOU PEIC-“

Soooo Cecil tried backing you up.. but well how can you keep a being like a Viltrumite at bay from its objective.

After Cecil finally fed into marks delusional ideas.

Seeing it fit, as a way to manipulate and control Mark..

He didn’t need more reasons to work with Cecil.. he has infinite data on you now and owes it to Cecil.

Seeing it as Cecil was one of the best way for you and him to get together.. even thanking Cecil..

After the info was out, in the light..

Marks mental health deteriorated.. quickly.. scaring even Rex at the globe, how brutal he was becoming.. for a guy who’s known to pull his punches..

Creaking villains heads open like walnuts.. it wasn’t a good look for Mark as an older brother..

Oliver always being brutal and lacking compassion but after you and Mark met.. Oliver straight up disregards life.

It wasn’t like he cared.. only thing he cared about is keeping you safe..

Making Mark more Viltrumite than man, at this point.

And if being Cecil’s lap dog does the trick in keeping you safe, then he’ll be the best god damn lap dog, Cecil will ever have.

He’s memorised your schedule, your routine, everything.

Over a few weeks, Mark has completely gone cold to Eve, shoving her off, Mark’s pursuit on you escalating.

He’s always there.. always around.. in the mask or not..

Especially when it came out you liked Invisible..

Poor you.. poor poor thing, your the definition of fucked, literally and figuratively

Mark making sure to be extra.. in well everything, fighting bad guy, flirting with you, at the university, flirting with you like a nerd.. at your WORK?? FLIRTING WITH YOU..

The guy won’t give up!!

And at the university it was like having a body guard.. he created you with the highest respect he had..

But he was always around.. holding your books.. in the hallway, in the Library, even at your locker…

The only reason he hadn’t dropped out yet being his only tie to you right now is that satanic place!

Like come on baby.. just give him your number~ he knows you like him.. so let’s make it official.. Don’t be difficult now~

He knows your schedule better than you do, it’s almost embarrassing 😔

His silly girl.. not knowing her next class.. it’s fine he’ll take you, just don’t ask howwww~~

He knew your likes and dislikes, your hopes and fears, all milked from the symphony of your inner world.

He knew the you let out a soft sigh when you read a particularly poignant passage in your novels you love..

He even bought the whole series, so he could bond with you how sweet!

The frustrated groan you let out when you struggled with a math problem, the thrill of victory when she aced a history test.

The cough you did intentionally so people would stop talking

Even that you have a.. well.. adventurous mind about Invisible’s physic.. that he’d happily spoil to you..

Spoil that he does whimper and whine when he’s close..

That he imagines your hot cunt clamping on him then a silly flesh light, That he growls on accident.

Spoil that he slur’s his words when he’s close as if he has a lisp..

That he sucks pussy likes he’s a major in it.. that he’d suck your folds for the life of him…

That he’d nip and whimper if you asked

You’re such a perv.. but a perv he’ll happily entertain and love to the fullest.. even if it means a few thousand have to die

Remember love~ super hearing~~ you and your “friends” should keep it down. It’s annoying hearing them speak about what should only.. ONLY be yours..

Obviously eventually the constant stalking started freaking you out.. in the beginning you thought he was.. yes awkward.. a lil weird.. yea.. but charming, even cute.. but his “kindness” has morphed into something suffocating..

Plus items are getting moved.. or going missing without a trace.. you’d hate to point fingers but.. you’ve got a big feeling.. your onto him

And well you’re hitting your breaking point.. Even hiding from him.. pulling sick days..

Everything but he just.. won’t. Get. The. Hint..

More like he ignores the hint..

He knew far too much.

Understood you too well, leaving you to have a chilling feeling of being exposed, vulnerable.

A specific time, mark was walking with you out of university to your bus, him eventually pulling you to the side.. with hurt expression.. leaning in very close.. lips close nearly.. putting a hand on your shoulder.. rubbing gently while he spoke in a feather light tone.

“You know.. I’m sorry about your dad and mums divorce that much be very hard..” Mark would say.. HOW THE FUCK DOES HE know.. Who told him.. your blood ran cold, all you could do was stand there fawn, while this.. this.. this MORON poured out special memories y-you had with your family when it was intact.. for him.. to.. what… relate to??

You snapped.. yelled in his face stunning him.. he looked very shocked, then hurt..

He tried soothing you back to his side.. that only overstimulating your nerves more.. so you shoved him away from you. Walking off fast.

he had his hands out.. eyes begging to come back to him..

Mark swore he’s never felt his heart break like this.. he just wanted to care for you.. you’ve been through so much in a small human life..

He’s sorry.. so fucking sorry.. JUST DON’T LEAVE!! PLEASE

He just wants to check your okay.. but instead you wound his bleeding heart and run off..

This is so unfair.. when he’s trying your mad at him.. when he’s not your not interested..

Just let him love you!!

Please..

It’s all he’s ever wanted..

If you don’t love him back.. theirs no guarantee you and your family are safe.. and definitely not Earth.

So now you better stop being an ungrateful brat and come back here right now!!

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。

⛧ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛᴇ － ALSO HERES MORE OF MY WRITING FOR KINDA A ENDING :3 LOL HERES THE DRAWING BTW AND ALSO SORRY I LOST PLOT A LITTLE I WAS A LIL TIRED (Eepy he’s so cute). But love you guys nighty nighty me = eeppy deepy

This extension being - 679 words :3

Screaming.. Crying, everything, You just wanted to him to leave!! His eyes hurt and glossy.. looking like a lost puppy. Eventually you tried to slam the door in his face.. Mark blocking it with expert speed slamming the door back into one of the walls, the thing going of the hinges.. A huge hole in the wall.. mark still holding on to the thought you’ll prevail.. and he won’t need to kill you and conquer this planet..because well the only reason he’s even protecting earth, your Marks most valuable thing in the universe to him. You <3 You stepped back looking at mark as if he’s a freak of nature.. “Y/N please.. listen.. you need to hear this.. I haven’t been honest to you.. a-and you’re mad.. b-but this’ll change it.. and w-we’ll be the same a-again!”Mark said in a shaky tone, tripping over his words.. his eyes watery.. what is this pain..It makes him want to crush his own heart.. rip out his own eyes.. eat his own skin.. WHY DOES THIS HURT?!!“Thing’s will go back to n-normal right” Words tumbling out in a rush, a torrent of desperate emotion. Mark trying and failing to persuade you.. more like himself.. giving you the crooked smile you used to like.Forcing his hand onto yours.. in a vice grip..He’s terrified.. of what.. he has no idea.. but he’s on the verge of tears to just beg for your forgiveness. You recoiled, heart beating like a panicked drum solo in Mark’s ears. Trying to tug your hand away.. only making mark construct more.. “Y-You love me.. you’ve told me.. please baby.. I love.. the only reason I know everything about you is to protect you!!?”Love.. Mark?? WHAT“I don’t love you mark what??” You shot back.. Marks lips quivering..“You love Invincible.. don’t you.. right?? You have drawings of him” “What are you talking about-“ You spoke, looking confused at mark his hold on your hand numb when he snarled. “ANSWER ME!!” You flinched immediately staring at mark.. clearly he’s been having mental breakdowns far too often. You tried to calm your nerves.. mark wasn’t doing good, you tried prying your hand away to help, for Mark to just-, with lightning speed have you in a choke hold. “Answer.. now” Lifting you up, while he hovered on to the ground. He shook you lightly.. legs dangling, your body consumed by fear you nodded your head just wanting this to end. Mark abruptly putting you back down gently, with a gentle smile.. What The FUCK? Then leaning forward kissing your slightly red neck. You froze fast.. this was all a weird mind fuck, Marks psyche this badly damaged from what.. a few harsh actions from you.. God save us all “Mm’sorry.. I didn’t mean it.. mm’im sorry.. i just.. I’m so scared.. you were so mean Y/N.. made me lose my temper..” He said feverish, peppering a trail of kisses over your slightly red neck from him choking you out a second ago. He quickly herded you from the house, dragging you forcefully. You tried resisting, but that resistance was only faced with discipline. You tried bargaining, screaming, promising not to tell to even begging It was too late for that.. He’ll take you by force. You tried keeping distance.. Feet padding back, the laces damp from what was the rain of the night. In a flash all of the distance was gone, he didn’t answer your pleas..He felt horrible.. yes.. would he stop.. mmm noWith one of his hands around your waist the other near your neck. Vision going blotchy.. You tried to struggle.. tried to scream.. but no noise came out.. He strangling you. You heard small sorrys and begs while your ears rung.. Feeling the light headed.. eventually passing out. Once he was.. sure you were asleep in his arms he kissed you lightly. A gentle reminder.. he’s doing this for you. Because well.. he loves you “You gave me no choice.. Y/N.. this is your fault..” And there shouldn’t be a reason they’re just school strangers. He won’t allow it!

BYE

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。

[blessedmisery]

✰ cw; gun play, use of daddy, size kink

toji holds a gun to your head when he fucks you.

"eyes on me doll, wouldn’t want me to use this on ya would you?" he drawls, pressing the cold barrel of his loaded gun against your temple. sweat beads at your forehead and your eyelids grow heavier as you ride him for the fourth fucking time in a row. you're exhausted and fucked out by this point but he won't let you stop— and with a gun pressed to your head, you're not exactly willing to take that risk yourself.

why was his gun such an active participant in your sex? you didn’t actually know. but you what you did know, was that toji loved to fuck with you—loved to push and prod just to see how far he could take things with you. and to him, this was just another one of his twisted little mind games. he wanted to see what a pretty, innocent thing like you looked like when you came undone.

you let out a small yelp as he spanks the soft flesh of your ass, a sharp sting lingering in its wake. "ah- toji" you whine desperately, hoping he'll be merciful tonight and let you off after this round. wishful thinking.

"fuckin' whore, makin' daddy do all the work huh?" he snarls, tightening his bruising grip on your waist and pushing his hips up into you, practically splitting you open on his fat cock. toji is so fucking thick—despite this being the fourth time you're getting stretched out on his cock just tonight, it still fucking hurts.

"m-meanie" you utter, choking back a heavy sob. your thighs tremble around his, barely able to move another inch. and because of this, his patience with you has reached the end of the line. he's holding nothing back, fucking his cock up into you, rougher and deeper with each thrust—so deep that his fat tip hits your cervix, every. fucking. time.

toji chuckles deeply at your pathetic attempt at an insult. so cute. you flinch a little as he removes the gun from your temple and slowly drags it down the length of your body, passing over the sensitive skin on your nipples and pausing right below your belly button—right where the bulge of his thick length is visibly pressing from deep inside you.

"such a tight fuckin' pussy—fuck" he groans, dick throbbing with pleasure as he releases his warm seed inside of your tight, wet cunt again. you exhale shaky breaths, your aching hips just beginning to rise off his cock when the cold tip of his gun presses into the hollow of your neck, sending a jolt of fear through your entire body, locking you in place.

"i didn't fucking say we were done" he hissed, a rough hand pushing you back down on his cock. looks like the night was far from over for you.

[akira-dulbar]

The life you left behind-

2/3: surveillance

parte 1

Summary: After discovering he has a son, Jason decides to follow/monitor his son and his mother from a safe distance, fearing that if he gets too close, he could ruin everything.

Warning: Stalking, attempted robbery, violence, mention of teen pregnancy.

Note: I saw that you really liked the first part, now I'm afraid you won't like the second part. Sorry if that's the case. Haha. Anyway, this all has bad articulation. Sorry.

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Jason has been through a lot: he lived on the streets, was adopted by a billionaire, became Robin, died, was resurrected, and became Red Hood, all at just 21 years old. He's lived and seen more than anyone should. Honestly, he felt prepared for anything…

But…

Never a father. Now they can't blame him. His biological father was a bastard (who, thank God, is in prison), while his adoptive father let him die (although they were already talking about it), so he never imagined being a father… and one at 15!

That's why, when Tim and Damian told him about the existence of a 6-year-old son wandering around Gotham City, he thought it was some kind of revenge after a bad joke he'd played on them a few nights ago while they were on patrol. But when he looked at the Batcomputer screen where all the evidence was (hell, there were also three DNA samples), he felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head, and before he knew it, he'd fainted.

Now, they couldn't blame him. Jason could be everything: a murderer, a criminal, a vigilante, a mob boss, an older brother, a disaffected son, among a thousand other things!

but never a father…

never a father…

He didn't know how to be a father. He barely remembered that school. When he died and they put him in the Lazarus Pit, it helped him physically but not mentally (in fact, it made him worse). Many of the memories he had disappeared, and others are like a fog that can't see anything. That's why he didn't suspect he had a child or that he'd gotten a girl pregnant (hell, he thought he was still a virgin when he died!) He doesn't even remember the girl (which leaves a bad taste in his mouth, although it's not even his fault).

That's why, a month after the discovery and having a breakdown, he decided he should at least see the child. Also because Alfred said he should at least see him, even if it's out of the corner of his eye. Because what he did (or didn't do) couldn't be undone.

When he found out that there was a cafeteria across the street from the kindergarten where his son attended (he had a son for God's sake!), he thought he could see him from a safe distance, sitting at a table by the window that gave a great view of the entrance to the kindergarten, what he didn't expect was that his older brother Dick would decide to join him.

"No one asked for you to come," Jason looked at Dick, who was sitting in front of him drinking a smoothie. He didn't want him there. He felt like he needed to do this alone.

"Oh, come on. You spent a month locked up in one of your safe houses without talking to anyone, and when you finally get out, you expect me not to support you?" Jason knew Dick meant no harm and that he was also excited to meet his son (he still can't get used to that word).

"If I talked to anyone, I talked to Alfred, who's better than any of you." Alfred has always been the voice of reason in the family and the best person to talk to about problems. After all, the others have communication problems (like him).

"And that's great, but you don't just have Alfred, remember? We're here too. You're not alone, Jason."

"I don't know why you're helping me here."

"I support Morar. You'll meet… no, more accurately, you'll see your son for the first time. Today, I think you need all the support we can offer." Instead of feeling grateful, Jason can only feel desperate.

"Listen, Dick…"

"Hey, look, look!" Dick kept pointing at something on the other side of the window.

Jason watched as the children started to leave the yard, all with their respective mothers or fathers. Some were running, others were jumping like crazy and talking so fast that you probably couldn't understand half of what they were saying, but you could see their parents just nodding and smiling at what they were saying. They seemed happy…

And for a moment, Jason couldn't help but imagine if he'd known about the pregnancy, if he hadn't died alone, maybe… maybe he'd be one of them, one of those fathers holding their children's hands and telling them about their day in kindergarten, what they did, what they discovered, what they learned…

What it would be like… what it would be like to hold their hand in his, such a small hand compared to his large one, how easy it would be to pick them up and rock them when they were sleepy…

Jason couldn't help but let his mind wander, so many things he'd missed and wouldn't be able to experience…

"Hey look, there's this one." When Dick said that, Jason quickly looked up, and what he saw made him freeze in place.

There was a boy with a book against his chest, looking from side to side, possibly searching for his mother. He realized that yes, he was indeed his; the relationship couldn't be denied.

The boy had Jason's hair, eyes, and facial shape, but there were some things that were different, like the shape of his nose and mouth, which were different from his own. He must have gotten him from his mother.

Jason lowered his eyes to get a better look at the book the boy was holding, realizing it was a book about Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. Jason put a hand to his mouth as he smiled. It was one of his favorite books too. Apparently, the boy had the same taste in books as him. He remembers when Tim told him that when he went to get the boy's DNA, he saw a pile of books on a shelf in his room. Jason wondered what other books the boy liked and if there was another one that was Jason's favorite.

"Wow, you have a very cute son. I'm sure he got him from his mother." Oh, right. The mother wondered how you were. Did you also like books like him? How well did you know each other? Why did you want to keep the boy? (Don't get him wrong, for him it's a fair question.)

The boy, unaware that his biological father was just a few steps away, began to run to the side. Immediately, both Jason and Dick became alarmed and jumped up from their respective places (after all, why would a child run so suddenly if it weren't for danger?)

But the two calmed down almost instantly when the boy jumped into the arms of a woman who picked him up and did a few somersaults with him. They both sat down, realizing who it was. It was you, the woman in the photos, the girl Jason had impregnated (to whom he owed a ton of child support, damn it).

You, the woman in question, were dressed in a formal office-style outfit. You put the boy down, who quickly started jumping up and down and showing you his book, perhaps talking about the pages he'd read at recess. If anything, you just smiled and nodded at everything the boy said.

Jason watched as you took the boy's small hand and started walking back the way the young woman had appeared. He just watched as the two of you walked away from the garden… away from the other children and parents… away from her.

"They seem happy, don't they, Jason?" Dick turned to look at Jason after seeing you turn a corner and disappear.

"Yes, very happy." Jason just stared back the way the young woman had gone. They were happy… very happy and fine… without him. (Although he couldn't blame them either.)

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After seeing his son and his mother for the first time (he's getting used to the word), he learned a little more about them. Although Tim and Damian had already done so and gave him a folder with all their information, he didn't accept it because he decided he wanted to do it himself.

So when he found out your name, he was happy to finally put a name to your face (because he was getting tired of calling you the mother of his child or the pregnant woman). But what did surprise him was his son's name. When he found out he had a son, he tried to completely ignore it. He didn't want to even see it in print because he'd be accepting something he wasn't ready for.

But now it was different. He was already accepting the fact that he had a son, and he'd even seen him when he came out of kindergarten, so he felt ready for the name.

Turns out no, he wasn't ready.

Peter…

It didn't take a genius to figure out where the name came from. Now, there was no way to confirm if he'd been named after him or if it was just a coincidence. But even if I don't know you, you seem like a woman who would do that.

In any case, when he discovered where he lived, he started patrolling the area. Even though it was a bit far from his territory, he didn't mind; in fact, he was glad. It meant they were further away from danger (even though every corner in Gotham was dangerous).

Sometimes, he would just sit in the building next door, looking out your apartment window and watching you interact in the living room, or just eating while watching a movie. It was comforting to see those moments; it was like the relaxation therapy Jason needed so much. His favorite moments were when you were in his son's room and listening to you read a page from one of the books Peter had in your room, or when the two of you would simply play with the Superman and Wonder Woman figurines.

While Jason was on the fire escape trying to stay hidden listening to everything they were saying and feeling a warmth in his heart, after all his son has the same tastes in books and superheroes, everyone in the family knew that Jason was a fan of Wonder Woman and knowing that his son was too just made him smile like crazy and when he found out that Peter wasn't a Batman fan like everyone else in town, all he could do was jump for joy (finally someone who thinks like him!).

He loved those moments, they were relaxing and comforting, although he didn't like how his mind sometimes wandered to the idea that he too could be part of those moments, that he would also read books to his son and you, and that at some point you would be asleep on the floor all cuddled up together.

Because of that, he always wondered what would have happened if he had been buried from the beginning.

He would have been there for his birth, for his first words, the first time he walked. Hell, he barely thought about whether they could have been a happy family, if things with you had worked out and he would be there, a happy family of three.

But there was no going back now. They were better off without him… without Jason Todd, a mafia boss, who was broken, and who could surely ruin everything at any moment if he got involved with you.

That's why it was better this way. After all, you were better off without him…

Without a disaster like him…

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It had been two months since Jason had patrolled the area near your house and your son's (he realized he loved calling Peter his son). The incidents were mostly minor, just a few burglaries here and there and nothing more. That's why he was happy, hoping he could see you through the apartment window that night too.

Although he quickly realized neither of you were in the apartment, but had gone to buy some things for tomorrow, since you forgot to show up at the last second. Jason realized you were a very forgetful woman; he wouldn't be surprised if you forgot his son in the garden one of these days, although he was sure it had happened before.

When you and the boy went outside (you being the one carrying Peter because he'd fainted from exhaustion after such a long day), Jason followed you both closely at a safe distance to make sure everything was okay, which everything was at the time. But when the two turned a corner and Jason also saw a man standing in front of them with a knife in his hand and trying to snatch your bag, which was difficult considering you were carrying Peter.

"Weren't you taught to respect women?" Jason was happy to still be wearing his Red Hood helmet.

Both people turned to look at him. The robber paled when he saw him, while you seemed more surprised to see him.

"Red Hood… what are you doing here? This isn't your territory."

"Yeah, well, sometimes it's good to get out of your comfort zone." Jason pulled out his gun, pointing it at the robber.

"You'd better think about your next move." Obviously, the bullets he had weren't lethal, since Batman convinced him to, but the robber didn't need to know that.

With that said, the robber dropped his bag and ran to the opposite side of the street from where he'd appeared, leaving the three of them alone again. Jason was about to put his gun away and leave when he felt a tug on his shirt. He looked up at you, who was smiling at him, still carrying an unconscious child, who didn't seem to be bothered by the small commotion.

"Thanks for saving us." This wasn't good. Jason didn't want them to get involved with him in any way, much less as a Red Hood.

"Yeah, well, it's best if you don't go out at night at this time again." Jason wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

"Even so, you helped us a lot. If he had stolen from me, I'd be in a lot of trouble."

"Yeah, well, you're welcome." Jason was about to turn around and walk away to a safer place to keep watching them.

"What´s…" But it seemed like you wanted to keep talking.

"What?" Jason turned to look at her.

"What's your name? I'm .… and he's my son, Peter." She already knew that last part.

"Honey, don't you know me?" Okay, he didn't want to call her that; it was something natural that just slipped out.

"I know who you are."

"So? I can't reveal my identity to you. It's called a secret identity for a reason." Jason thinks you've gone crazy for asking him that. It wasn't because he heard her put her hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh, that confused him.

"I know who you are… but I want you to tell me." What? Jason was confused.

"Do you want me to tell you who I am? Even though you already know who I am?" Jason could only watch as you nodded while searching for something in your other shopping bag.

"Red… Red Hood…"

"Okay, Red Hood, here you go. Take this as a thank you gift." You handed Jason a juice box while he was still confused.

"Thanks again for saving us." You smiled one last time at Jason while he was still frozen in place watching you and his (still asleep) son disappear from sight.

Jason could only stare at the juice bottle while wondering who he had gotten involved with when he was younger.

That night, Jason dreamed of a girl smiling at him at school while asking him his name.

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I'm afraid you won't like it, but anyway, I'm proud of what I did (what I did in Spanish, the English is purely a translator, because my English is so basic that it's not enough for all of this).

If it is well received again, part 3 will come out, which is the reader's perspective on how she met Jason and what happened to her decide to keep the child (and yes, it's the last one, I think?).

Anyway, I hope you like it. I don't know much English.