#the guy was a criminal and was so good at it

[redshiftsinger]

Worth noting that there's a solid chance they KNOW they'll lose that charge if they take it to trial, but they're adding it in an attempt to bully him into taking a plea deal.

Worth knowing not only so you can have perspective, however things turn out, on THIS case, but also so that you know, if you're ever in a position of being charged excessively to the actual actions that you may or may not have done but are being accused of, that it's a very common tactic to pad the charges and then offer to "drop" some of them in a plea deal.

The idea is to scare you with the prospect that if you go to trial you'll have to defend against so many, more-severe charges, make you panic and think you have to take the plea deal. Even if you're innocent. This is how they get innocent people to plead guilty to things they literally didn't do -- aggressive, bullying tactics to pressure them into plea deals on the charge they actually want to slap you with.

Remember that, and if you're ever the one in a similar position, put the fear they're deliberately inducing in you aside and look at your position relative to the law OBJECTIVELY. Get the advice of a good lawyer on which charges they might actually be able to make stick.

They probably won't actually manage to make a "terrorism" charge stick on Luigi. It's bonkers. He ALLEGEDLY killed one guy and then left. That's not terrorism, that's a grudge against one guy.

If he pleads guilty to murder in exchange for the terrorism charge being dropped, know that they got exactly what they wanted, and it doesn't prove him actually guilty. It only proves that he was scared, by people who intentionally set up to scare him into doing what they want.

Remember that cops don't really care about catching real criminals. They care about looking good and justifying their pay raises. They're absolutely not above throwing an innocent man who just happens to look enough like the blurry security-cam footage to pass off in prison for a decade after threatening him into pleading guilty to avoid the risk of even harsher punishment.

Remember he's already accused them of planting evidence.

And remember it's incredibly, WILDLY convenient that a guy who allegedly 3D printed a gun to make it untraceable, and wore gloves handling it in use so it wouldn't have fingerprints on it, was allegedly still carrying it around with him five days later after evading law enforcement that long. Remember that it's even more convenient that he allegedly ALSO had a succinct little written confession "manifesto" in the same bag, and the same fake ID he allegedly used to check into a hostel where he allegedly stayed on his way to commit a crime, but also three more fake ID's and a bunch of money including enough foreign currency to do anything with. In a random McDonalds in a city where the incredibly dinky airport only has flights to one destination.

Remember the smear campaign painting him as some inherently-violent extremist because he... played Among Us with his friends in 2020, like literally everyone else did.

Remember that the cops desperately want to pat themselves on the back and go home looking shiny, no matter whose life they ruin in the process.

luigi mangione, the SUSPECTED (innocent until proven guilty) united healthcare shooter, has been charged with terrorism. that’s right. a man who supposedly shot ONE SINGLE PERSON is being charged with terrorism. because in america, billionaires lives matter enough that a SINGLE rich man’s death is considered a terrorist act against this country. think about that.

[nxuvillette]

FORBIDDEN LUST — CAPITANO

synopsis : you were assigned to guard the fatui’s best. you knew the bounds of your relationship was strictly professional, but when your conversation one night becomes personal, those lines begin to blur.

❥- pairings : the captain (capitano) x fem!reader

❥- a/n : this post is for my criminal event ! i decided to do the captain, because well, he fits the bill in some aspect. i hope you guys enjoy and feedback + reblogs are appreciated :).

content warnings : nsfw [18+], fem!reader, minors + ageless + blank blogs dni, fatui!reader, spoilers to the 5.0 archon quest, power dynamic, mentions of crime, porn w plot, age gap, finger sucking, use of pet names (baby , darling , my love), some fluff, possessive!capitano, fingering, dirty talk, creampie, biting, outside sex, rough sex, choking, nipple sucking, corruption kink, dacryphilia.

The moon’s bright rays cast themselves over the meadows and mountains over the nation of Natlan. The beautiful plethora of colors that were painted on the various rock walls were shown brightly due to this light. It was a very calm evening in the nation of war. The air was warm with a bit of humidity clinging along with it, but despite the weather, you still had to keep your main focus alive and that was the duty of protecting the fatui’s number one. 

Your introduction to the powerful organization wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary. You found yourself seeking out solace within because of your disdain for the heavenly principles that cursed Teyvat. Like many of the fellow members, you believed that the cryo archon had the right approach when it came to dealing with them, so you joined her in the fight to gain every gnosis that belonged to the six other archons. Along with your passion, your abilities were another piece of the puzzle that led you into obtaining the position you had today, and that was becoming somewhat of a guard to one of the harbingers. 

The Captain.

Not many members were lucky enough to interact with the harbingers themselves. A lot of them were never seen outside of Snezchnaya or in the public eye at all. However, when the Captain was made aware of the crisis that was occurring in a nation he protected all those years ago, he wasted no time making his way there to understand the pyro archon’s approach to the impending disaster that threatened Natlan. Since you were tasked with being by him, you were immediately told to tag along with him. You hadn’t ever gone to Natlan before, but you wished you had a lot sooner. The land of pyro was full of so much color and life. There was a happiness that bubbled in your stomach when your eyes scanned over the beautiful horizons that were buzzing with different animals or people who were happily playing with their saurian pals. You knew being a part of the fatui meant being a cold hearted individual who, on the outside, had to assert their dominance over others, but there was still a side of you that enjoyed the good things about Teyvat. 

While you did bask in the beauty of Natlan, you knew you still had a job to do. 

Being around the Captain for as long as you had, you had to learn to become accustomed to his reserved nature. He often didn’t speak to you for long periods of time, and he always kept any personal details to himself. You knew that was understandable, especially given his ranking in the fatui. He was one of the most feared men in all of Teyvat. Some of the other fatui members would shake in their shorts at the mere thought of his name being uttered. You were intimidated by him at times. He was strong. There was a reason he was number one, but you still had many questions about him as a person. 

The fire before you crackled every few seconds. There were a few embers that snapped into the atmosphere and disappeared as quickly as they developed. You were stationed out in a campsite that wasn’t too far from the stadium that you were planning to invade the next morning with the Captain. The man sat across from you. He was as quiet as he typically was. If you had to be honest, you disliked awkward silence more than anything. You were a talkative person with the right people, but with him? You were afraid to make too much noise with your feet. He had kicked some serious ass in front of you before, and you did not want to become a human popsicle because of him. You simply followed his orders, no questions asked. He could be mysterious at times. He was a man who was always somehow several steps ahead of everybody else and you learned over the months you’ve worked alongside him that he was very clever. You often yearned to know more about him. All you had was baseless rumors made up by random people.

Tiredness began to creep onto your body a lot quicker than you had anticipated. You forgot that you had spent several days travelling through different areas to get to Natlan. This was one of the first times you had gotten the chance to sleep in a few days. You’re trained to not get lazy or tired, but this was the one time you were about to give in to those ideals. 

“Getting exhausted already, hm?”

Your hazy thoughts were interrupted when the Captain’s voice rang in your ears. It always managed to catch you off guard because of how deep it was. There was also so much silence around you both, so it was unexpected to hear him speak so suddenly. “Heh..” you laughed, softly. “You caught me, Captain, my apologies.”

The man before you shook his head, dismissing your apology. “No need, we’ve been travelling for days. I can’t expect you to be wide awake while we’re in front of a fire..” he said. “If you need to rest, don’t worry. I can keep an eye on our camp, and I doubt anyone passing by will attempt to start a fight this late.”

There was a sudden spike in your heart rate at his words. You found it quite surprising that the Captain himself was showing leniency towards you. You were used to him being quite strict at times with the other fatui members who traveled alongside him with you, so this sudden shift made you wonder why he was being so.. Nice? It seemed out of character, and curiosity began to reign in your mind. Could this be a test? The harbingers were a group of individuals who were unpredictable in all forms. He could easily be testing you, so if you did fall asleep, he could scold you for letting your guard down and making him have to protect you. It was your job to save his life in any scenario, after all.

Your eyes flickered from the man to the fire that was still burning. Although you had been around him several times, his presence alone did make you nervous. “No, it’s alright. I have to make sure you don’t get hurt.. Especially with the abyss lurking around here. I can stay up!” you smiled, nervously.

For a moment, the Captain didn’t speak, making that anxious feeling return all over again. Was he going to get angry? Were you supposed to go to sleep? It could’ve been an order hidden in his words. Silence was the most deafening thing to exist. 

“I know what you’re thinking, (Y/N), you don’t have to push yourself for my odds.” he broke that silence that was killing you. “As much as I appreciate it, your wellbeing is important. You can’t fight properly if your body is at its limit.”

You swallowed thickly at his words. It was almost like he was somewhat worried about you? It sounded unrealistic. The fatui are known for their selfish motives, so why would the number one member show any ounce of care in his guard? “N-No! It’s quite alright, sir, really! I can handle it.” you tried to sound reassuring, but he could see through your facade like glass.

He shifted in his seat, making you freeze up again. You really disliked how you could never properly understand what he was thinking or what he was planning to do next. You also couldn’t read his emotions because of the mask that hid his features. He never took it off once, and even during combat it remained on his head. “Alright.. If you insist, but if you’re planning on staying awake, then I am too. I would rather not waste the night sitting in silence, so let’s talk.” he said, bluntly. 

You stared at him like he said something psychotic. He wanted to talk? What was there to discuss? You honestly didn’t know much about one another besides the basics when it came to your ranking among the fatui, and his obvious spot in the harbingers. You also never took the Captain to be somebody who liked small talk. He kept his words often short and straight to the point, so that’s why it made it all the more difficult when it came to conversing with him in an unprofessional manner. “Sure.. um, forgive me, but I’m not exactly sure what we should talk about..” you could feel your palms becoming clammy from how nervous you were.

He suddenly chuckled, leaving you speechless because you didn’t think he was capable of sharing a laugh with you, let alone a smile. “You’re quite chatty, I’m a little surprised, but that’s just fine..” he paused, shifting his gaze onto you. “Tell me.. Why did someone like you decide to become a part of the fatui?”

You didn’t think he would ask such a personal question right off the bat. He usually could care less about those who were beneath him, but nonetheless, he was a bold man. He had no problem asking uncomfortable questions whenever he wanted. You weren’t sure how to respond. There were so many reasons. “Hm, well, I want the best for Teyvat! I think it’s an unfair world and there should be something done to those who harmed others in a negative manner.” you explained, crossing your legs together. “I dunno.. I just want to see change. Even if it’s something small, it’s the thought and effort that matters most.”

The Captain seemed somewhat unfazed by what you told him, but beneath his mask he was actually impressed by your words. He had heard many people discuss their reasonings and motives for joining such an organization. Some were ridiculous, like suggesting they enjoyed the power they had over others, or that they were able to use delusions to obtain what they wanted. Others had selfish desires for money or the thrills, but you seemed to be somebody who had passion. You didn’t care for the power or the other bullshit that came with being in the fatui. All you wanted was for others to be okay. He admired that, truthfully. He also struggled to process it at the same time. He found it somewhat hard to believe. He had been surrounded by self centered values and desires for so long that he almost forgot that there were people like you still out there. There was still good existing in this cruel universe.

“Hm, I see. You seem to be quite the driven person, and I respect you for that.” he replied. “I think you’ll end up somewhere great in life, and maybe you’ll have the opportunity to experience true peace in this life.”

His words brought comfort to you like a warm blanket being wrapped around you on a cold morning. You were glad to hear he felt optimistic about the future, but his praises made you feel even better, Earning the respect of the Captain wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. You’d have to destroy him in battle to get him to bat an eye at you, so it came as a big shock to hear he respected you. Despite that, you appreciated it. “Thank you, sir. It means a lot to me.. And I hope someday that there will be peace too.” you smiled. 

The Captain then stood up, shaking off the large jacket that rested on his broad shoulders. You watched him place it onto the grass that was just a couple inches away from him. He then sat down once again, facing you. 

You never saw much of his body. It was always hidden by his clothes and he hardly ever removed it unless he was by himself. Snezchnaya was also frequently cold, so it was understandable that he wore it all of the time since he spent a majority of his time in the land of cryo. However, through the fabric of his shirt, you could see his muscles that outlined through it. There was a side of your brain that was screaming for you to look away, but your eyes couldn’t move away from how nice he looked. You knew he had been through many fights and training throughout the years, but seeing it this close was making your body heat up. You had seen plenty of muscular men in your life, but this was different. He was also your boss, technically. It was wrong to think of him in such a manner. You could possibly face many punishments if your wild thoughts were able to surface to reality. 

He seemed to catch on to your staring, because he turned his head in your direction. You couldn’t physically see it, but you could feel his eyes watching you. “Something the matter? I only took off my coat because the fire was making me feel warm.” he explained, raising a brow underneath his mask. 

Immediately, you felt embarrassed that he had caught you. You weren’t doing it to be rude or anything, but now you just seemed like a fool in the eyes of your superior. You hoped he didn’t think of you negatively now. It was honestly quite easy to get on the Captain’s bad side these days. “N-No! I’ve never seen you without your jacket, that’s all. My apologies, sir, I shouldn’t-”

“You were just curious, nothing wrong with that.” he interrupted. “And, please, drop the formalities. Call me Capitano, you’ve earned that.” 

Your eyes practically bulged out of their sockets from how wide they had become. You were probably the most professional person to ever walk the earth. You didn’t think you would ever have the chance to use the Captain’s other name. It was a rare occasion. You didn’t think any of the other harbingers muttered it either, so what made you so special? All you did was work beside him and protect his life. It was as simple as it sounded, but nonetheless, you weren’t going to protest. 

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the burning sensation that had appeared on your cheeks from his words. “R-Right! I’m sorry, sir- I mean, Capitano! I will use your name instead!” you stumbled over your words like a kid. “I’m not used to this kind of formality..”

The Captain nodded his head. He could understand from your perspective that a sudden change of professionalism could make you feel somewhat uneasy. He never gave out his real name on purpose. He’d much rather be known as the Captain, because, really, who deserved to know anything else about him? It wasn’t like he was an everyday citizen. “I understand, but you will get used to it. There’s no need to feel rushed or embarrassed, (Y/N).” he said. “I actually want to know more about you, because I hardly have any knowledge of your personal life. Don’t feel obligated to tell me anything, but I figured that’s how we could pass the time.”

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to react to his request. This man had to be sick or something because this was the first time he had ever asked to know things about you. Neither of you were friends and your relationship was simple enough. Then again, he was trying to pass the time, so he probably could care less about the little stories you had from childhood. You figured it’d be fine. “Sure! I can tell you anything.” you smiled.

The next hour was full of you talking and the Captain mostly listening. 

You shared many stories from your childhood. You talked about your parents and how you missed the meals they would cook for you, or the memories you had of watching the snowfall for the first time in your hometown. To an outsider, you seemed like one of those older people who were telling stories to the children, but to the Captain, you were so much more than that. There were so many interesting things he learned about you within those sixty minutes. You disliked a lot of tart foods, your favorite drink was the fonta that came from Fontaine, and you had a habit of drooling in your sleep from time to time. They were so basic, but he genuinely enjoyed hearing you talk. Your voice was soft and not overwhelming. It’s one of the reasons why he liked having you around him. Unlike some, you were tolerable to be around. Some people talked too much or annoyed him to no end, but you? He could never get tired of you, and that scared him. 

He struggled internally at the thought of you. He thought it was fine for a while. He only saw you as one of his subordinates who had to maintain his safety, but slowly that started to change. The Captain didn’t know how to approach these dizzying feelings that were developing for you. He felt comfortable. Like, he didn’t have to put on a brave facade and hide who he truly was when he was in your presence. He wished he could protect you from this world that had become so cruel. 

“(Y/N), do you mind if I were to show you something?” he asked, abruptly.

You blinked for a moment, pausing in your words. You had no idea what he was going to do, but you did trust him. “No, what is it?” you inquired, nodding your head to the side like a dog that was curious.

The Captain seemed to hesitate for a moment. He wondered if doing this was going to be a good idea, but he believed that doing so would establish some sort of trust between the two of you. He took a deep breath, then moved to take the mask that had been covering his face for several years. 

At that moment, your heart ceased in its movements. You had never seen the Captain’s identity before in the few months that you had been working under him. The mask he wore was a constant symbol of who he was and the unknown often scared many people, but you weren’t afraid of him in the slightest. His face was far from anything like the rumors people had made up about him. His eyes were the color of ice, piercing and bold. His skin was somewhat tan with several scars that were etched onto multiple places on his face. He had somewhat of a mature face, showing his age was evident to what you had originally assumed. He was so handsome and cunning. It made your body feel weak from the mere sight of his features. 

Your silence made him somewhat uneasy. He wondered if revealing his face was a good idea. Were you disgusted? Scared? He couldn’t read your emotions on your face, and it was eating him alive. 

“My apologies I-”

“No, don’t apologize! Really!” you cut him off, taking him off guard. “I.. I think you look.. Lovely.”

His face completely dropped the moment your words slipped past your tongue. Nobody had ever said such a thing to him before. All of the people he had interacted with had described him as a terrifying person. He was somebody that was a part of an organization that committed crimes on a daily basis. How could someone as beautiful as you say he was lovely? There was so much beauty in the horrible world you both existed in, and he was one of the dark corners that you wouldn’t look at. “You think I’m.. lovely?” he questioned, sounding serious and taken back at the same time. 

Oddly enough, you didn’t feel weird about saying it at all. It was almost like there was a sense of comfort that had built itself around the two of you as you talked with each other. “Yes! I admire you, a lot. That will never change.” you replied in a joyous tone. 

A burst of warmth suddenly enveloped his stomach. He wasn’t sure what this feeling was or why it was happening. The Captain was becoming even more confused over his emotions. He hadn’t felt something like this before, especially towards you. He didn’t want to admit it, but he actually liked what he was feeling. He wanted to experiment and see if you could stir even more out of the ordinary emotions inside him. You had complete control over him. The Captain couldn’t believe that, for the first time in decades, another woman had captivated him. 

He was stunned when you randomly stood up without warning and joined the empty space beside him. The Captain looked at you with somewhat wide eyes. It was an expression you had never seen written on his face before. It made you giggle. “There’s no need to be stiff.. I just wanted you to know that you shouldn’t hide your beauty all of the time. At the very least, you don’t ever have to fear doing it around me.” you made eye contact with him, making his tummy do flips once again. 

He remained unmoved for a brief moment, then he made his move. 

The Captain suddenly smashed his lips onto yours. His hands tossed away the mask that he had been holding to place them on your waist that he had been dying to touch for several months now. He was shocked to feel that you were kissing him back. After a few seconds, reality hit him like a wave, and he quickly realized what he was actually doing. He pulled away and was quick to feel flustered from his actions. “I am deeply sorry.. I shouldn’t have done such a thing without your-” he was instantly cut off the second you kissed him again, pushing your body on top of his. 

“I want this..” you whispered, settling yourself onto his lap. 

He wasted no time and pulled you against him. He had often fantasized about what it would be like to have you just like this. Your bodies touching one another, his lips on yours, your hands touching his long tresses of hair. You were a fucking dream. The Captain himself often wondered why someone as beautiful as you were alone in this world. There was so much to like about you. You were too good for a life in the fatui. You should’ve been in your hometown, fighting for your people. It sounded selfish of him, but he thought about taking you away from all of this. Keeping you safe from danger and living a quiet life. 

It would be perfect.

The Captain’s hands moved to squeeze the plush of your hips. He swallowed the soft moan that had escaped your lips as a result of his contact on your skin. You sounded just as erotic as he imagined. There wasn’t a single flaw about you. 

Your exchanges then started to grow more intense. His tongue dove itself into your mouth, exploring every inch of it. You could feel his painfully hard boner as you ground yourself against him. Each time your clothed cunt brushed on it, the Captain grunted or made some type of noise that was turning you on. There was so much built up chemistry between you both and you couldn’t see yourself pulling away. He was addictive and dangerous. This could get you terminated or into trouble with other members of the fatui. However, you found it hard to show any care at the moment. 

There was a brief pause. The Captain pulled away to press his forehead against yours, panting heavily from the lengthy makeout you just had. His pupils were blown with lust and there was a look in his eye that you had never seen before. It made this sudden thrill shoot up your spine at the thought of what was going to happen next. “Before we continue.. I want to warn you that I’m no longer going to hold back. If you wish to withdraw consent at any time, that’s alright, but I’m not going to be easy on you..” he stated, seduction dripping in his voice. 

Excitement coursed through your veins at the images being created in your head from his words. You truly wanted to know what the Captain was capable of in terms of intimacy, so you weren’t about to let the moment waste. “That’s fine..” you replied. “I like it rough.. Especially if you’re going to be the one to wreck me in the end..”

That was all it took for him. 

The man before you then pushed you onto the ground, hovering over you in the process. His eyes studied the different areas of your body. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. The Captain then pulled your top down, revealing your breasts that were so fucking cute. Your nipples perked as the air blew against them, making you shiver from the exposed contact. He tore your top in half so your upper half was now completely on display for him. His cock practically throbbed at the thought of what your cunt must have looked like, but this was already enough for him to lose it. 

He immediately attacked your neck, kissing and nibbling at the most sensitive areas of your skin. He could care less if someone were to see the marks he left on you. He thought it would be cute to watch you try and cover them up. 

Once your neck had multiple bites, he quickly moved to your chest. You whined the second his tongue made contact with your nipple. He swirled his tongue around it, making that familiar butterfly feeling appear in your belly once again. His other hand went to play with your other breast, squeezing and using his fingers to massage your other nipple. He could feel how warm your body had become from his gestures. You were so turned on. He had done so little to you. 

Your eyes connected with his icy ones. You were a complete mess like this. All you wanted was for him to do more to you. “C-Captain, please, more! Ah!” you moaned out when his teeth scraped around your sensitive nipple. 

He removed his mouth from your boob with a ‘pop’ sound. He couldn’t help but smirk at your desire for more pleasure. He didn’t think someone like you could be so erotic. There were so many things he wanted to do to you. The Captain wanted to push you to your limits and break you so all you could think about was him fucking your brains out. “Patience, darling. Let me show you how someone is supposed to make you feel..” he whispered, dragging the pads of his fingers towards your pants. 

It didn’t take long for him to yank your pants off, exposing your panties. His cock twitched when he noticed the large damp spot on your underwear. You had practically soaked through them. He took his thumb and pressed your clit, making you jolt at the electricity he sent along your body. You were practically screaming inside your head for him to do something to you. You hadn’t experienced a feeling like this before with anyone else. Sure, you’ve slept with random men you met while traveling, but they were nothing like him. 

Maybe it was the taboo of it all. You were his subordinate. You weren’t supposed to be doing something like this with a man who was in a much higher position than you. Who knows what kind of punishment or reaction might come from this getting out. He’s too powerful, so you doubted that he would lose his position in the harbingers, but that turned you on even more. The idea that you weren’t supposed to be doing this. Yet, you showed no signs of caring. It was like he had casted a spell on you and there was no way you’d be able to escape it. Not when he had that hungry look in his eye. 

The Captain pulled your panties down your thighs and eventually tossed them away somewhere else. He almost came on the spot from your sticky pussy that was dripping with arousal. He craved nothing more than to have you around him. He took one of his fingers and dragged it along your cunt, making you cry out briefly from the pleasure. He gathered some of your slick and stuck his finger into his mouth, savoring the taste of your sweetness on his tongue. You were just as delicious as you appeared. He then pushed one of his digits into your hole, earning a moan from your lips. You felt so tight around his finger. He knew he had to prep you beforehand, but he wasn’t so sure if you’d be able to take him. 

You gripped your breasts as he fingered you at a slow pace. It felt so good. He was taking his time and he was making sure you were enjoying yourself. He had so much knowledge on those spots inside you that made your stomach twist with excitement. “Right there, yes, right there..” you whimpered, looking at him with desperation in your hues. 

He grinned at the little responses he was getting from you. You were so damn cute. He wondered what else he could do, but it seemed like what he was doing was enough for you. “Yeah? Talk to me, baby, I wanna hear you.” he started circling your clit, sending double the pleasure along your body. 

You were practically humping his hand, coating it with your juices in the process. You couldn’t control the various moans and whines that kept coming from your mouth. You were slowly becoming lost in the bliss, and he fucking loved it. “Please, sir, more! I want you inside me!” you cried. 

His eyes grew wide. Who knew you could be such a dirty girl? This surprised him, but nonetheless, who was he to deny you of your pleasure? You had been so obedient to him over the months. It was the right thing to do. “As you wish, darling.” he replied, removing his fingers from your aching cunt.

You shuddered when you heard his belt being unbuckled. You sat up slightly to gain a view of his cock that was fully erect. It was roughly around seven inches with a lot of girth that made you wonder how you were supposed to take it all. The tip was already leaking lots of precum. You could feel this euphoria going throughout your body. He probably had so much pent up stress that he had been waiting to take out on somebody, and that was you. 

The man then took your thighs in his hands, pushing them apart so he had full access to your pretty pussy. His breath hitched when his tip made contact with your clit. It had been far too long for him. “I’m not going to hold back..” he whispered. “I want to make you an absolute slut for my cock, got it?”

You nodded, taking your fingers and spreading your lips apart. He took that as his sign to continue. He then pushed his cock into your cunt, making you gasp with pleasure as well as some pain from the stretch. 

As soon as he entered you, the Captain let out the sexiest groan you had ever heard. Your walls were hugging his cock so nicely. He continued to push forward, so he was now completely bottomed out inside of you. He looked below at the sight before him. Your pussy was wrapped around his cock like a vice. The sensation of your warm cunt inviting him in was like ecstasy to him. He mentally complained to himself for not taking you much sooner. Now, he wasn’t going to let that moment slip through his fingers. There was so much he wanted to do, and the night was still young. 

The air was practically knocked out of your lungs the second he started moving. You felt so full. You were surprised that he was able to make himself fit, but you had assumed that was what the foreplay was for.

It didn’t take him long to increase his thrusts. Once he noticed your desperate eyes silently begging him for more, he took that as his sign to let go. The Captain couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of your gorgeous body. Your pussy squelched and cried whenever he moved, your pretty tits bounced, and that sweet voice of yours continued calling his name like it was a prayer. That self restraint he had was quickly dwindling, but you seemed to not care. If anything, you wanted him to destroy you. 

He used his hands to take hold of your thighs, gripping them firmly. You pinched your nipples to feel some extra stimulation while he fucked you. Due to the humidity of Natlan, the both of you were already becoming quite overheated. You could see the sweat glistening on the Captain’s body. It outlined his well defined muscles and the scars that were scattered over his skin. “Captain! Please, don’t stop..” you whined. “Feels so good..”

His right hand went to cup your cheek. He used his thumb to press onto your puffy lips, placing it into your mouth. You obediently sucked on his thumb, swirling your tongue around it. Fuck, you were so fucking dirty. He didn’t need to ask for a single thing. “You’re such a good girl. You drive me crazy..” he then removed his thumb, moving it to your swollen clit. “Don’t you worry about a single thing, okay? The Captain will take care of you, darling.”

You let out a cry when he began playing with your clit. The pleasure he had been giving you was now becoming overwhelming. His dick was practically breaking you apart. The tip abused that button inside you that made stars appear in your vision. He knew exactly what to do to make you fall apart in his hands. 

There was this sudden protectiveness that creeped up on the Captain. Looking down at you, he could feel that urge to want to save you from a place like this. This world and the organization you were both involved in was terrifying and cruel. The idea of possibly losing you to somebody else made anger course through his body. He knew it sounded selfish. It was likely that your ideals differentiated from each other, but he didn’t care. He wanted to keep you safe. That idea of living a quiet life with one another sounded wonderful. For the first time in so long, he could actually imagine such a life with somebody else that didn’t seem temporary. 

His thrusts suddenly slowed to a more tender pace. You looked at him with curious eyes, wondering where the sudden shift came from. “I’m gonna keep you safe..” he grunted. “Do you understand me..? I’m gonna make sure your beautiful heart is never broken again.. You won’t have to live in fear with me beside you.”

Your cheeks felt hot at his words. It almost sounded like the Captain was confessing to you at that very second. You weren’t sure what to say or how to react. It honestly made you feel some sort of comfort. Someone like him being able to take care of you without having to worry about the enemies that could potentially harm you. His words sounded sincere. It made your heart leap out of your chest. “R-Really..? You want that?” you blinked, placing your hands onto his broad shoulders. “Please don’t lie to me, Capitano..”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. The lengthy strands of his hair drooped over the sides of his head. The expression on his features was serious. You could feel his eyes studying you. “I could never lie to you. Not when you’ve done so much for me.. I crave nothing more than to be with you, and only you. I will devote my entire life to keeping you alive..” he replied. “The choice is yours, my dear.”

You said nothing. Instead of using your words, you kissed him. This time, your kisses felt passionate and loving, unlike the ones you shared prior. These were real. You couldn’t find any deception in his tongue and the way he spoke. 

He read your mind and resumed with those harsh ruts. He swallowed down any noises that you made and smirked to himself at the way you struggled to kiss him back whenever his tip kissed your g-spot. He decided to go deeper and angle his hips a different way. He was practically fucking up into you, and you were loving it. The kiss you were sharing was now broken apart because you couldn’t control what was coming from your throat. He thought it was cute to see you in such a state. It was almost like you had forgotten the two of you were both outside. 

“Capitano! Fuck, yes! P-Please, ruin me..” you begged. “I’m so close.. Ah! Please, please! I need you”

He gritted his teeth at your words. He noticed that your walls were becoming much tighter than they were before, implying that your orgasm was just ahead of you. Your desperation turned him on. He wasn’t about to make you wait. 

The Captain grabbed your hips. He had you practically bouncing on his cock from the force at which he was pulling you towards him. Your belly was tightening up with the erratic thrusts he was unleashing on your body. You could feel that climax inching closer. It was making you lose control, and all you could think about was his cock completely ripping you apart. You wanted him to be the only one who made you cum. He was the only man alive who was capable of making you feel such euphoria. 

Those were the exact thoughts the Captain wanted you to have.

With one final thrust, your orgasm completely crashed over you. Your pussy clamped around his cock, leaving a sticky creamy white ring to circle around the base. Your thighs were trembling and you could feel tears developing on your lash line from how amazing your climax felt on your body. “Ahhh.. oh my god.” you cried, panting heavily from how intense it was. 

The Captain pushed your thighs towards you so your knees were now nearing your chest from the way he had you bent. Your hazy eyes grew wide when you realized that his thrusts weren’t ceasing, and he was continuing that rough pace against your cunt. “I’m not done yet..” he said. “This pussy is gonna be dripping when I’m done..”

It didn’t take long for him to drag another orgasm out of you. The overstimulation was sending waves of pleasure all along your tired body, but you didn’t want it to stop. Your pussy was aching and spasming around his dick, drawing the Captain closer to his own high. Those disgusting thoughts of him filling you to the brim with his cum were clouding his mind heavily. It was all he could think about. 

He grabbed onto your throat, firmly gripping it so he could properly fuck you. He could feel his cock twitching and that familiar feeling of an orgasm hurtling towards him with every rut of his hips. He practically growled the moment his balls tightened, finally releasing his cum into your cunt. Warm thick spurts of his seed leaked into your womb, making you shiver from the warmth spreading across your lower abdomen. 

He removed his hand from around your throat, remaining inside of you so none of his cum would slip out of your hole. His fingers brushed along your cheek. Your face was so gorgeous to him. Your eyes were glassy and there was a lazy smile resting on your lips. “Like what you see..?” you questioned, giggling slightly from his stare. 

The Captain came to your level and pecked your lips. He couldn’t hide his smile when being so close to you. “Absolutely..” he replied.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[osirisarrow]

: ̗̀➛ debut themed bot release re-do

includes challengers 2024 / scream / twilight / stranger things / obx / criminal minds / tbosas / bridgerton / supernatural / marauders / gladiator II

: ̗̀➛ tim mcgraw 𐚁 art donaldson

: ̗̀➛ pictures to burn 𐚁 stu macher

: ̗̀➛ tear drops on my guitar 𐚁 jacob black

: ̗̀➛ a place in the world 𐚁 patrick zweig

: ̗̀➛ cold as you 𐚁 billy hargrove

: ̗̀➛ the outside 𐚁 jonathan byers

: ̗̀➛ tied together with a smile 𐚁 rafe cameron

: ̗̀➛ stay beautiful 𐚁 spencer reid

: ̗̀➛ should’ve said no 𐚁 coriolanus snow

: ̗̀➛ mary’s song 𐚁 benedict bridgerton

: ̗̀➛ our song 𐚁 dean winchester

: ̗̀➛ i’m only me when i am with you 𐚁 remus lupin *

: ̗̀➛ invisible 𐚁 anthony bridgerton

: ̗̀➛ a perfectly good heart 𐚁 geta

— saoirse.

Hello everyone! I wanted to take a moment to explain that some of the bots you might see in this release are from my previous release when I first started doing bots. I decided to bring back a few of the older ones, but the majority are brand new ones that I’ve been working hard on. I hope you’re all doing well, and I want to tell you that more exciting bots are on the way as we get closer to Christmas. Thank you for your continued support, and I can’t wait to share more with you all soon! I miss you guys so much but life has been so exhausting.

* fanart by sophithil on instagram

[dreamersworldduh]

HI, NEIGHBOR — PART 3

• JASON TODD x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — you’re new to the neighborhood and find yourself becoming friends with the residential bad boy, Jason Todd. From his perspective, you seem like an outgoing guy yet there’s a mystery to you he couldn’t quite figure out.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing. Violence.

WORDS! 11.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! here we are with part three finally, I know I was supposed to post this days ago but reality interrupted my dreams and I had handle a few things, but as you can see we are locked and loaded. Also 11k words is insane, but it was getting so good—I had to finish!

I hope you enjoy! 😉

PREVIOUS PART! TWO.

In the months following your arrival at Wayne Manor, you slowly adjusted to life within its towering, stone-carved walls. The sprawling estate, with its endless corridors, grand halls, and hidden passageways, transformed from an intimidating labyrinth into something almost familiar—though it never quite lost its imposing presence. You had little choice in the matter; agreeing to let the Bat Family handle the looming threat of the League of Assassins meant surrendering your personal freedom in ways you hadn't anticipated. The arrangement came with a steep, unspoken cost: confinement.

Bruce, ever the calculating strategist and overprotective guardian, made it clear from day one that venturing outside the Manor was not an option. "Too dangerous," he had said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He cited countless reasons: the League's relentless pursuit, Gotham's ever-growing list of threats, and his unyielding need to protect those under his roof. It didn't matter how many times you reminded him—and the rest of the family—that you weren't some defenseless bystander. You'd survived the League's brutal training. You'd fought your way through far worse than Gotham's criminals. You were capable, competent, and deadly—but none of that mattered to Bruce. He couldn't risk losing another person he cared about.

So, despite the suffocating restrictions, you adapted. You weren't the type to waste energy on complaints, especially when there were...perks. Life at Wayne Manor came with its comforts—luxuries you never expected but quickly came to appreciate. Alfred Pennyworth, ever the consummate butler and caretaker, could whip up anything you requested with unparalleled skill. His meals were nothing short of culinary masterpieces, turning even the most routine days into something special. But it wasn't just the food—Alfred himself was a grounding presence, his dry wit and subtle warmth offering rare moments of peace in an otherwise tense environment.

Then there was the Batcave. Its state-of-the-art training facilities became both sanctuary and battleground. You poured hours into training, pushing yourself to exhaustion against holographic enemies and weighted combat simulations. You sharpened your skills with unwavering focus, testing weapon prototypes—some Bruce didn't even know existed. The cave's cold, metallic stillness was familiar, almost comforting. Every punch, every kick, every precise movement was a reclaiming of control, a defiant stand against the helplessness confinement tried to impose.

As the weeks turned into months, bonds you hadn't expected began to form. Dick, ever the optimist with his easy smile and magnetic charm, quickly became someone you trusted. His laughter seemed to chase away the Manor's heavy shadows, making even the darkest days lighter. Then there was Tim, sharp-eyed and brilliant, whose love of strategy and detective work mirrored your own. Together, you dissected Gotham's criminal networks like players in a high-stakes game of chess, often losing track of time in the process.

Even Damian, the guarded and sharp-tongued youngest member of the family, began to thaw. He still acted like the world's most stubborn brat, but there was something like respect in his gaze when he watched you train—perhaps recognizing a fellow survivor shaped by the League's harsh hand. The two of you shared an unspoken understanding built on shared experience, though neither of you would ever admit it aloud.

But the deepest—and most unexpected—connection you forged was with Jason.

Jason, with his jagged edges and bruised soul, had always been something of a wild card. Reckless, passionate, and fiercely loyal, he seemed to understand the feeling of being trapped better than anyone. He never pitied you for your situation—he just got it. He made being stuck at Wayne Manor tolerable, even fun at times. The two of you easily fell back into your old rhythm: late-night movie marathons sprawled across the Manor's oversized couches, sharp-witted banter flying between you like familiar, well-worn armor.

But things were...different now. The kiss you had shared—unexpected, intense, real—had shifted something fundamental between you. It wasn't just a passing moment or a mistake born out of loneliness. It lingered in every shared glance, every casual touch that lasted a second too long. Conversations turned softer in the quiet hours of the night, the edges of your banter giving way to something deeper, more intimate.

Jason's eyes lingered when he thought you weren't paying attention, a quiet intensity burning beneath that tough exterior he wore like a shield. His hand would brush yours, and neither of you would pull away. The space between you felt charged, an invisible line crossed long ago that neither of you wanted to retreat from. You both danced around the unspoken truth, hesitant but unwilling to let go of whatever fragile, uncertain thing was forming between you.

Wayne Manor might have felt like a gilded cage at times, its stone walls a constant reminder of your captivity—but being with Jason made it feel like something else entirely. He made it feel safe. He made it feel like home.

The quiet hum of advanced technology reverberated through the cavernous expanse of the BatCave, blending seamlessly with the steady rhythm of your fists slamming into the reinforced punching bag suspended from thick, heavy chains. Each precise strike sent deep, resounding thuds echoing across the cold stone walls, reverberating through the dimly lit space like distant thunder. The soft glow from the Batcomputer's towering display monitors flickered faintly in the background, illuminating rows of specialized gear and weapon racks arranged with military precision.

Beads of sweat rolled down your temple, dripping onto the steel platform beneath your feet. You inhaled deeply, letting the chilled, mineral-scented air cool your burning lungs. The BatCave's icy stillness grounded you, stripping away everything except the focus of combat—the rhythm, the movement, the power radiating from deep within your core.

Your knuckles connected with the bag again and again, each punch sharper, faster, and harder than the last. The faint pulse of Chi energy thrummed beneath your skin, a persistent force you had long since learned to harness. It surged with every strike, burning like a fire that couldn't be extinguished—only controlled.

Fighting was your language, your anchor, your defiance. The League of Assassins' brutal training still lived within your muscles, etched into your very bones. You hated that, but it was yours now—something reclaimed, reshaped into a weapon on your terms.

You pivoted sharply, throwing a vicious spinning back-kick that cracked against the heavy bag with a satisfying boom, sending it swinging wildly on its reinforced chains. The satisfying ache in your leg reminded you that you were still in control—that you were still fighting.

Then— "Your balance is off."

The cold, clipped voice cut through the stillness like the edge of a blade.

You whirled on instinct, already dropping into a defensive stance—ready to strike. But you stopped short when you saw him.

Damian stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his intense green eyes gleaming in the dim, flickering light. His posture was impossibly straight, his expression sharp and unreadable—a perfect image of practiced discipline and quiet authority far beyond his years. His green cape draped neatly over one shoulder, its hem just barely brushing the cave floor like a royal mantle.

Despite your heightened senses, you hadn't heard his approach—not a single footfall, not even a whisper of movement. He was that good.

You exhaled slowly, tension still coiling in your muscles. "You always sneak up on people, or is it just me?"

His mouth twitched—just slightly. Not quite a smirk, but close. "Consider it a compliment," he replied coolly. "Most wouldn't have even noticed me."

You snorted softly, grabbing a towel from the nearby bench and wiping the sweat from your face. "So, what do you want, Wayne? Here to critique my footwork again?"

Damian took a measured step forward, boots clicking faintly against the cold steel. His eyes remained locked on yours—sharp, calculating, serious.

"I came to talk."

You blinked, thrown by his directness. Damian Wayne... wanting to talk? That was a first.

Still, something about his tone was different—less sharp, more... resolute. Whatever this was, it wasn't just a passing observation about your training.

You tossed the towel aside, folding your arms. "Talk about what?"

Damian tilted his head slightly, studying you like a chess piece he was considering moving. For a moment, he said nothing—his sharp mind clearly weighing his words before finally speaking.

"About the League... and what comes after." His voice was quiet—but heavy with meaning.

Your breath hitched despite yourself, though you kept your expression neutral. The League. They were always there—lingering at the edges of your mind, a shadow you could never quite escape.

"What about it?" you asked cautiously.

His gaze didn't waver. "You know what it means to be made by them... to be shaped by their rules." His voice was steady, but edged with something deeper—something personal. "They make you believe that's all you'll ever be." His expression hardened. "That you'll never be anything else."

Your jaw clenched, memories surfacing like jagged glass cutting through old wounds. You stayed silent, letting him speak.

Damian's sharp features remained set, but something... raw flickered in his eyes—something unmistakably human.

"I believed that," he admitted quietly. "For a long time." His voice dropped, almost distant—as though speaking more to himself than to you.

"I thought being part of the League... was my purpose. That their rules, their code, were all that mattered." His lips pressed into a thin line, bitterness seeping into his tone. "Until I came here."

Your brow furrowed, caught off guard by the quiet intensity in his voice. Damian never talked about himself—especially not about this.

He took a slow, measured breath, meeting your gaze with quiet determination. "Being Robin... changed that."

His voice steadied, gaining strength. "My father taught me that being a weapon isn't the same as being a person. That I could choose who I wanted to be—not what the League made me."

His emerald-green eyes burned with conviction, even as something darker lingered beneath the surface. "But it wasn't easy."

You remained silent, listening intently despite yourself.

Damian took another deliberate step forward, his voice steady but low. "I still fight. I still kill, when I have to." His gaze hardened. "That part of me doesn't just... disappear. It's always there. But it doesn't control me anymore."

He held your gaze, fierce yet... understanding. "Neither does it have to control you."

The words hit you like a blow, raw and unyielding. For a long moment, you couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. His admission struck something deep, something you had buried long ago.

"You think..." your voice wavered, rough with emotion. "You think it's that simple?"

Damian's expression softened—but just barely. "No," he said firmly. "But it's possible."

The stillness between you stretched—charged not with hostility, but... understanding. For the first time, Damian wasn't speaking as Robin, or Bruce Wayne's son, or even a former assassin.

He was speaking as someone who understood.

You exhaled slowly, tension bleeding from your shoulders.

"I'm... not like you," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can change."

Damian's lips twitched—almost a knowing smirk, but softer. "Neither did I."

Silence fell between you once more—weighted, but... not uncomfortable.

Finally, Damian straightened and stepped back toward the shadows of the BatCave, his cape trailing behind him like a phantom.

"Just... think about it." His voice was calm, steady—but held an edge of quiet sincerity.

Without another word, he vanished into the dark, leaving you alone with your thoughts... and the faint, lingering echo of his words.

"It doesn't control me... and it doesn't have to control you."

For the first time in a long time... you wondered if that could actually be true.

The soft flicker of the TV cast shifting shadows across your dimly lit room in Wayne Manor. The familiar hum of an old action movie played quietly, its over-the-top explosions and cheesy one-liners filling the comfortable silence between you and Jason Todd as you lounged on the large, worn couch pushed against the far wall.

The room was simple but cozy, far more welcoming than any place you'd ever stayed before. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with books, training manuals, and a few small mementos you'd picked up since moving in. A faint breeze drifted in from the half-open window, carrying the cool scent of the manor's sprawling gardens.

Jason sat next to you, legs stretched out comfortably, his leather jacket tossed carelessly over the back of the couch. He wore a simple hoodie and dark jeans, his signature sharp, rugged features softened slightly in the dim, warm light. His sharp blue eyes stayed fixed on the screen—but you could tell he wasn't paying much attention.

Neither were you.

You leaned back into the cushions, one arm draped over the back of the couch, fingers resting just barely close enough to graze Jason's shoulder. He sat just close enough that his warmth pressed against your side—not quite touching, but close enough.

The comfortable silence between you lingered for a while, both of you absorbed in your thoughts more than the film.

Finally, you exhaled slowly, breaking the stillness. "...I talked to Damian today."

Jason arched an eyebrow but didn't look away from the TV. "You? Talking to Damian?" he teased, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Did the world end or something?"

You rolled your eyes. "He wasn't that bad... this time."

Jason chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head. "What'd he want? Lecture you about footwork again?"

You shook your head, your expression growing more thoughtful. "...He talked about the League. About how... being Robin changed him."

That got Jason's attention. His teasing smirk faded, replaced by something more serious, more attentive. He sat up slightly, resting his forearms on his knees as he watched you carefully. "Really?"

You nodded slowly, running a hand through your hair. "He said... he used to think he couldn't change. That being part of the League was... all he'd ever be." You hesitated, your voice dropping lower. "...He said being Robin showed him that... it didn't have to be."

Jason's blue eyes softened—not with pity, but with something far deeper... understanding.

"And what did you think about that?" he asked quietly, his voice steady but gentle.

You shrugged, though your expression stayed thoughtful. "I don't know... it's hard to believe." Your gaze dropped slightly. "I've been running from what the League made me for so long.... I don't know if I can ever be anything else."

Jason studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable—but his eyes burned with something fierce and protective.

"You can," he said firmly, his voice rough but sincere. "You already are."

You met his gaze, startled by the conviction in his voice.

Jason leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "You're not like them. You left. You fought back." His expression softened just slightly, the intensity in his voice easing into something warmer. "You've got nothing to prove to anyone—especially not them."

His words hit deeper than you expected, settling somewhere deep in your chest. You could tell he meant it, every word.

Still, you couldn't resist adding, "You sound like Bruce."

Jason's lips twitched into a faint, crooked smirk. "Don't push it," he shot back.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence again—but there was something different about it now, something warmer, charged with something unspoken.

After a long pause, Jason spoke again, voice low but... hopeful.

"You know... you could... be one of us."

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Jason shrugged, his expression thoughtful but sincere. "You're already here. You've been training in the BatCave, fighting alongside us... hell, you've saved my life more than once." His sharp blue eyes gleamed with quiet certainty. "You belong here... whether you believe it or not."

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. "Me? Part of the Bat-family? You're insane."

Jason smirked faintly but didn't back down. "It's not as crazy as you think."

You stared at him for a moment longer, still processing—but there was no mockery in his voice... just earnest belief.

The warmth in your chest grew—unexpected, overwhelming.

The movie on the TV played on, forgotten. The flickering glow of the screen danced across Jason's face, highlighting the faint scars tracing his jaw, the steady intensity in his piercing gaze.

You realized... you were staring.

But Jason... was staring too.

The air shifted between you, charged, as the familiar walls you'd built around yourself slowly... fell.

Jason's breath hitched slightly, his sharp features softening as his gaze dropped just briefly to your lips—hesitant, waiting.

You leaned in—just barely—testing the distance between you.

Jason didn't move... but his eyes darkened, something unspoken burning in their depths. His hand brushed yours, tentative... gentle.

You closed the small distance between you—finally.

The kiss was slow at first—steady, like neither of you wanted to break the fragile, perfect stillness of the moment.

Jason's breath shuddered against yours before he deepened the kiss, pulling you in closer, his hand resting lightly on your jaw, fingers brushing your neck in a way that left fire in their wake.

Your heart pounded against your chest, steady and certain, chasing away every lingering shadow.

Soon Jason's hands move to your sides, fingertips grazing the thin fabric of your shirt with slow, deliberate intensity. His touch was warm, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine that you couldn't suppress.

The kiss between you deepened, turning from tentative to desperate, fueled by weeks of lingering glances, quiet moments, and feelings left unsaid. His breath hitched when you threaded your fingers through his thick, dark hair, tugging gently—just enough to draw a low, rough sound from deep in his chest.

Jason pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his sharp blue eyes locking onto yours with fierce, burning intensity. His pupils were blown wide, and you could feel the tension radiating off him—wanting, waiting, but still holding himself back, as though afraid you might change your mind.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

Before you could think, his strong hands found your waist, gripping firmly—not rough, but secure. His gaze flicked to your lips for just a heartbeat before he moved, effortlessly pulling you into his lap in one fluid motion.

A soft gasp escaped you as your knees hit the mattress on either side of his thighs, straddling him as his hands settled firmly at your waist, holding you in place like he needed you there—like letting go wasn't even an option.

"Jason..." you breathed, barely able to get the word out before his lips claimed yours again, fierce and demanding. His fingers pressed into your hips, anchoring you closer, as though afraid you'd vanish if he let go.

You melted against him, your hands bracing against his broad shoulders before sliding down to rest against his chest. His heartbeat pounded fast, strong, echoing the frantic rhythm of your own as the kiss deepened—hot, urgent, and hungry.

His lips moved against yours with a fire you hadn't expected—like he'd been starving for this, for you, for far longer than he'd ever let on. His fingers tightened their grip just enough to make you feel it, keeping you anchored firmly against him.

Your breath hitched when he broke the kiss, trailing slow, heated kisses down the line of your jaw, leaving a burning path in his wake. His teeth grazed the sensitive spot beneath your ear, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips as your hands tightened against the hard planes of his chest.

Jason smirked against your skin, clearly pleased by your reaction—but there was nothing cocky about the way his breath stuttered when you rolled your hips just barely against his. His grip tightened, a low, rough sound escaping him that you felt more than heard.

"You're gonna kill me," he muttered, his voice rough, low, and wrecked as his forehead rested against yours.

"Good," you whispered, voice breathless but teasing, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at your lips.

Jason's answering grin was dangerous, laced with heat and something far more intense—something real. His hands slid up your back, pulling you even closer until there was nothing but fire between you.

Your fingers moved almost instinctively, skimming over his broad shoulders and trailing down his chest, feeling the faint tremor beneath your fingertips. His body was solid, built from years of combat and survival—scarred, strong, and completely real.

Without thinking, your hands slipped beneath the worn fabric of his hoodie, fingertips grazing over the taut, heated skin of his abdomen. The breath he sucked in at the contact was sharp, his muscles tightening instinctively under your touch.

Jason pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression unreadable for a fleeting moment—intense, unguarded, as though you'd caught him off guard in a way no one ever had before. His breath hitched, lips still slightly parted as he stared at you with something dangerously close to vulnerability.

Slowly, Jason tugged the hem of his hoodie and shirt upward in one smooth motion, pulling both over his head and tossing them carelessly to the floor.

Your breath caught.

His chest and shoulders were a patchwork of old scars—deep, jagged, and unforgiving, crisscrossing across his toned skin like the remnants of countless battles fought long before you'd ever met him. Each mark told a silent, brutal story written in flesh—survival, pain, resilience.

Jason's expression shifted—not defensive, not ashamed—but... uncertain. Like he was waiting for something—rejection, disgust... anything.

But you didn't look away.

You let your gaze trace every faded scar, every rough edge, your fingers moving slowly, reverently, as though trying to memorize all of him.

Gently, you leaned in, pressing your lips softly against a long, faint scar that curved just below his collarbone—a wound that looked like it might've been fatal once. His breath hitched, muscles tensing beneath your touch, but he didn't pull away.

You kissed the scar again—slower this time, lingering—before trailing your lips lower, tracing the rough line of an old slash across his ribs. His hands flexed against your waist, tightening their grip as though holding himself together.

Your fingers followed the faint, faded scar running just beneath his right pectoral, brushing over it with deliberate care before pressing another gentle, lingering kiss there. Jason's breath shuddered, his head tilting back just slightly, lips parting with something between a gasp and a low, desperate exhale.

"You don't have to—" he started, his voice rough, strained—but you silenced him with another slow, reverent kiss along the edge of a ragged scar near his shoulder.

"I want to," you whispered against his skin, your voice steady but soft—earnest.

Jason let out a shaky breath, his hands moving to cradle your face gently, thumbs brushing over your jaw with surprising tenderness. His expression was... raw, stripped of every wall he'd ever built, laid bare in a way that felt too much, too intense—but he let you see it.

You pressed another soft, lingering kiss against a scar just over his heart, feeling its steady, strong rhythm beneath your lips. His hands trembled—just barely.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting himself feel it—really feel it—like no one had ever touched him like that before.

"You're... unbelievable," Jason whispered, his voice wrecked, almost disbelieving, like he couldn't comprehend what you were doing... or why it felt like it mattered so much.

You met his gaze again—steady, grounded—and saw something breaking in his expression... something open and real.

"You're not just your scars," you whispered, voice low but fierce. "You're more. You've always been more."

Jason inhaled sharply as his hands slid beneath the hem of your shirt, his fingertips grazing over your heated skin with deliberate care. His touch sent shivers up your spine, making your breath hitch as his fingers slowly tugged your shirt upward, exposing more of your torso inch by inch.

His gaze never left yours—intense, focused, hungry—watching for any sign of hesitation... but there was none. You wanted this—needed this—and he could see it in your eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, Jason stripped your shirt off in one smooth motion and tossed it carelessly to the floor. His strong hands immediately returned to your waist, gripping firmly, grounding you as though anchoring himself just as much as he was anchoring you.

Before you could even catch your breath, Jason gently pushed you back against the soft cushions, guiding you down with a quiet, silent command that sent a thrill down your spine. His weight settled comfortably over you, strong and solid, radiating warmth that made your heart race in your chest.

His gaze flicked over your bare skin, dark and possessive but still tender, like he was memorizing every inch of you—every scar, every line, every breath.

"You're so—" Jason started, his voice rough, wrecked—but whatever he was going to say got lost as he moved.

He pressed his lips to the side of your neck—soft at first, almost reverent, tasting your skin with slow, measured intensity. You exhaled sharply, your hands instinctively threading into his thick, dark hair, tugging gently—not to push him away, but to pull him closer.

Jason groaned softly against your neck at the sensation, his fingers tightening on your waist with just enough pressure to make you feel it. His mouth returned to your throat, his breath hot and ragged as he trailed slow, lingering kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck.

And then... he bit down—just hard enough to leave a sharp, stinging sensation that melted into something deeper, more intense. A gasp escaped your lips as Jason followed the bite with a slow, soothing kiss, his tongue flicking lightly over the spot.

"Jason..." you gasped, your voice breathless, shaky—but filled with need.

He smirked against your neck, clearly pleased by your reaction—but there was nothing cocky about the way his breath shuddered, his hands trembling just barely as they roamed up your sides, exploring every inch of your bare skin.

Jason's lips returned to your neck with renewed purpose, his kisses growing more intense—hot, wet, and deliberate—as though he was claiming you with every kiss, every bite, every mark.

He sucked gently at the base of your neck, his teeth grazing sensitive skin before biting down again, harder this time—leaving his mark. A sharp, helpless whimper escaped your lips as your body arched beneath him, pulling him closer, deeper.

Jason groaned, low and rough, his voice thick with need as he kissed the freshly made bruise—possessive, protective, yours.

"Mine," he rasped against your skin—unspoken, undeniable, raw.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him up just enough to crash your lips against his in a desperate, hungry kiss. Jason kissed you back just as fiercely, his hands sliding up to cup your face with surprising tenderness even as his lips moved against yours with absolute intensity.

Before you knew he changed your positions. He hovered over you, his strong hands resting firmly on your waist, grounding you, anchoring you. His body radiated heat, and his touch burned where his fingers grazed your skin, leaving fire in their wake.

You could still feel the faint, lingering sting from the marks he'd left along your neck—his marks—possessive and unapologetic, like he wanted the world to know exactly who you belonged to.

But now... it was your turn.

Your breath hitched as you slowly dragged your hands down the hard planes of Jason's chest, tracing each scar, each line, savoring the way his breath stuttered beneath your fingertips. His muscles tensed with anticipation, every inch of him coiled like a spring just waiting to snap.

His gaze darkened, pupils blown wide with want as you let your hands drift lower, trailing down his stomach, feeling every ridge of muscle beneath your fingertips until you reached the waistband of his dark jeans.

Jason's breath shuddered audibly when your fingers brushed over the rough fabric of his belt, lingering just long enough to make his jaw clench. His fingers tightened on your waist, his grip firm, as though holding himself back.

You could feel the tension thrumming in his body—barely contained, ready to break. His blue eyes burned into yours, hungry and wanting, but still... waiting.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers found the button of his jeans. You toyed with it slowly, deliberately, watching the way his breath hitched, his entire body going still—tense—as though his entire world balanced on that single moment.

But before you went any further... you paused.

Your hands stilled, resting gently against his waistband as you lifted your gaze to meet his, your breath coming in uneven, your voice quiet but steady.

"...Is this okay?" you whispered, earnest, serious—vulnerable.

Jason's inhale was the only sound in the room. His eyes softened—just barely—but enough for you to see something deeper flicker behind them—something raw and real.

He exhaled slowly, his grip on your waist easing into something gentler—still firm, still grounding, but filled with quiet reassurance.

"Yeah..." Jason rasped, his voice wrecked, thick with emotion and need, but steady—certain.

His gaze held yours, steady and intense, as his hands slid up your sides, rough fingertips grazing your skin with reverence.

"You can—" He stopped himself, breathing out a shaky laugh, his expression softening with something almost... tender. His voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper.

"I want this... I want you."

His thumb brushed gently along your hip, grounding you as his intense gaze burned with trust and longing. "But only if you want it too."

Your chest tightened—not with fear, but with certainty, with need, with something far deeper than desire. You leaned forward, your hands resting firmly on his chest, feeling the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers.

"I do," you whispered, voice fierce but soft, trembling but sincere. "I want you... Jason."

You unbuttoned his jeans with deliberate slowness, savoring the way his sharp intake of breath shattered the tense silence. The click of the button sounded almost deafening in the stillness of the room, followed by the soft whisper of the zipper being drawn down.

Jason's jaw tightened, a faint tremor running through his body as your fingers brushed over the exposed waistband of his briefs, the warmth of his skin searing beneath your fingertips.

His breath shuddered when you let your fingers trail lower, brushing lightly against the hard outline of his swollen length, already straining against the confines of his jeans. The sharp, ragged gasp he let out was wrecked, his head tilting back just slightly, exposing the strong, defined line of his throat.

"F—" Jason bit off the curse, his voice rough and hoarse, like he was fighting to hold himself together.

Your fingers moved again, slow but intentional, feeling the heat radiating from him as you pressed just lightly against his hardness through the thin fabric. His hips jerked involuntarily, a strangled, needy sound escaping his parted lips.

His hands tightened on your waist, trembling just barely, as though he was using every ounce of control to keep himself from pulling you closer, from taking more than you were offering.

His gaze snapped back to yours, intense, desperate, and pleading without a single word spoken.

You could see it all in his eyes—need, want, trust... and love. He was bare, stripped of every wall he'd ever built around himself, laid open only for you.

"... Are you sure this is okay?" you whispered, voice steady but soft, your hand resting just barely against him—asking, not demanding.

Jason's breath hitched again, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared at you with something deep and unspoken.

"Yes..." he rasped, his voice trembling but firm. "God... yes."

His fingers loosened on your waist just slightly, his touch shifting from a firm grip to a gentle caress, grounding you even as his entire body shook with restrained need.

The sound Jason made was low, raw, and devastating, like something had broken inside him—but in the best way. His hands slid up your sides, rough fingertips grazing your bare skin with reverence, as if memorizing every inch of you.

Before he suddenly realized something as he looked back to see the slightly ajar door at the far end of the room, the faint hallway light spilling through like an unwelcome reminder of the reality beyond these four walls.

For a moment, Jason's expression shifted, his sharp features tightening with thought, instinct kicking in like it always did after years of surviving in the shadows. He was always aware of his surroundings—always watching, always calculating.

But this wasn't just anywhere. This was Wayne Manor. A place where privacy was a luxury, where anyone could walk by... or walk in.

His fingers lingered just barely against your bare skin, resting at your waist as he hesitated, clearly debating... thinking.

You could see the thought cross his mind—the realization—as his eyes flicked toward the door again before he exhaled sharply, muttering a quiet, "Damn it..." as he reluctantly pulled away, the loss of his warmth making your skin ache in its absence.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed with practiced ease, muscles still tense from more than just desire, his sharp gaze cutting back to you for just a heartbeat—checking, making sure you were still there, still his.

Without another word, Jason rose to his feet, his powerful frame moving with that same effortless grace he always carried, like he was born to be in motion. The faint creak of the floor beneath his boots was the only sound as he strode toward the door, his shoulders still slightly tense, as if expecting someone to appear on the other side.

He reached the door in two long strides and paused, his hand resting on the cold brass handle. His sharp eyes darted down the hallway one last time—searching, scanning, checking—before he quietly clicked the lock into place with a soft, resolute snap.

The sound seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, final and certain.

Jason lingered there for a moment longer, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a slow, steadying breath, his fingers still resting against the locked door as if needing a moment to reassure himself—that this was safe, that you were safe.

Finally, he turned back toward you, his blue eyes locking onto yours—soft, focused, but still burning with that same fierce longing that never seemed to fade.

He crossed the room again with purpose, every movement deliberate but unhurried, his lips quirking into a faint, half-smile—almost teasing, almost smug—but there was something deeper behind it... relief. Need. Want.

Jason's voice was low, rough, but soft as he came to a stop at the edge of the bed, his hands resting firmly on the mattress on either side of you, caging you in once more.

"No interruptions," he replied, his voice thick with promise, his intense gaze flicking to the locked door before settling back on you—focused, possessive, and certain.

His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his bare skin flushed from both exertion and anticipation. His hands hovered at the waistband of his unbuttoned jeans, his fingers twitching slightly as if weighing the moment—letting it sink in, letting you see him—all of him.

He was always in control, always ready, alert, prepared—but this was different. You made him feel different—unraveled, open, seen.

Jason swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he held your gaze—his expression flickering between desire and vulnerability, like he was offering something he didn't know he could.

Slowly—deliberately—Jason hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, his breath hitching slightly as he eased them down over his hips, inch by inch. The sound of denim sliding against his skin seemed deafening in the quiet, intimate space, leaving him standing there in just his dark briefs, his body tense, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath.

His intense gaze never left yours, watching every flicker of emotion across your face—searching, waiting, hoping—until he saw nothing but want reflected back at him.

With slow, measured movements, Jason's fingers grazed the waistband of his briefs, hesitating for just a heartbeat. The faint tremor in his hands was barely noticeable, but you felt it, saw the way his breath shuddered as he finally pushed the fabric down over his hips.

His briefs dropped to the floor, forgotten, leaving him fully exposed—unprotected—in a way that seemed more vulnerable than any wound he'd ever taken in battle.

Jason's chest heaved as he stood there, still, watching, his gaze fixed on yours—not with fear, but with trust, need, and hope—like he was waiting for your reaction, waiting for you to make the next move.

But there was no hesitation, no doubt in your eyes as you slowly rose up on your knees, closing the distance between you. Your hands reached out gently, fingers brushing against his waist, anchoring him, making him feel.

You could feel his body quake with restraint, his broad shoulders tight, like he was fighting against every instinct to take... have... claim. His need for control was practically etched into every line of his body—but right now, that control was hanging on by a thread.

Your hands slid slowly up his torso, savoring the way his breath hitched at every lingering touch across his toned stomach, every scarred ridge of muscle. His skin was warm, real, alive—a living map of battles fought and survived.

Jason's breath shuddered when your fingers drifted lower, tracing the lines of his hips, your touch deliberate and slow—teasing, exploring. His blue eyes never left yours, flickering with want, need, and something deeper... vulnerable trust.

"You're killing me..." he whispered, trembling with desire as his fingers tightened on your waist, digging just enough to make you feel how much he was holding back.

But you didn't stop—you couldn't. You wanted to see him fall apart, to watch Jason Todd—always in control, always ready—come undone because of you.

Your fingers grazed lower, dipping beneath the edge of his waistband, tracing the trail of muscle that disappeared beneath his skin. His hips jerked involuntarily at the touch, and a low, rough sound escaped his lips—a growl, raw, desperate, and completely unrestrained.

Jason's head tipped back for a brief second, exposing the strong, defined line of his throat as he sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.

He bit back a curse, his body practically vibrating beneath your touch. His grip on your waist tightened, trembling just enough to show how much control he was losing.

You moved your hand lower—slow, intentional, watching every flicker of desperation and longing in his expression until your fingers finally brushed against his swollen ten inch dick.

Jason let out a broken, ragged groan, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily into your touch as though he couldn't help chasing the sensation. His intense blue eyes snapped open, darker now, completely consumed by you.

"Sh—" Jason exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you wrapped your fingers around his dick, feeling the heat, the hardness, and the faint tremor that ran through his entire body at the contact.

His reaction was instant—his hips jerked again, pushing into your hand with a barely restrained desperation, as though he was already too far gone to care about holding back.

His forehead fell against yours, his breath hot and uneven, every exhale spilling over your lips as he tried—and failed—to regain control.

"Shit..." he hissed, his voice rough with barely restrained need.

But you weren't done—not even close.

With deliberate slowness, you leaned in and pressed your lips to the hard plane of his chest, tasting the faint salt of his skin, still warm and flushed from your earlier touches. His breath shuddered again, his broad hands trembling as they gripped the bedsheets beneath him, like he needed something to ground himself.

Jason's sharp intake of breath turned into a low groan when your lips trailed lower, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down the center of his chest, following the faint line of an old scar that cut across his ribs. You traced the rough edge of the mark with your tongue, feeling the faint twitch of muscle beneath your touch as his hips jerked again, entirely helpless under your intentional exploration.

"Fuck.." he hissed, a needy sound tearing from his throat. His intense gaze dropped down to watch you, his pupils blown wide as if the sight alone was enough to drive him wild.

Your lips lingered just beneath his sternum, leaving another slow, lingering kiss against the sensitive skin there, savoring the way his entire body tensed beneath you. His breathing came in uneven, shallow bursts, his fists still clenching the sheets like he was using every ounce of control to keep from pulling you closer.

You let your free hand slide up, tracing a slow, teasing path down the line of his hip, feeling the way his body reacted—shaking, tightening, desperate. Every tremor, every ragged breath, every shuddering gasp only fueled your need to push him further.

"You're driving me insane..." Jason groaned as he bucked into your hand again, chasing more of your touch like he couldn't help himself.

"Good," you whispered against his skin, teasingly—but filled with want just as much as power.

You kissed lower, your mouth following the faint trail leading down his abdomen, feeling the sharp, defined lines of his stomach tighten beneath your tongue. His breath stuttered, chest heaving, his hands twitching as though aching to grab you—to anchor himself—but he didn't.

Jason was letting you lead... completely surrendered in a way you knew he never allowed himself to be.

You pressed another slow, deliberate kiss just above his waistband, feeling the way his entire body shook beneath you—needy, wanting, and bare in a way that made your chest tighten.

"Damn..." Jason moaned.

You could feel the faint tremor in his legs as you slowly trailed your hands along his thighs, feeling the way his breath hitched at even the lightest touch. His body was tight, coiled with tension—a mix of expectation and need that left him visibly shaking beneath your fingertips.

"You're killing me..." Jason whispered as his head tilted back against the pillows, exposing the strong, defined line of his throat as he struggled to breathe through the electric tension crackling between you.

His entire body shuddered when your hand wrapped around his swollen dick, feeling the heat, hardness, and the faint twitch of anticipation beneath your fingertips. His hips jerked involuntarily, chasing your touch like he couldn't help himself, a needy groan escaping his parted lips.

"F—..." he hissed, biting back a curse. His sharp blue eyes snapped back to yours, pleading, searching, as though waiting for you to end the torment.

But you weren't done teasing—not yet.

With deliberate slowness, you leaned in, letting your breath ghost over his dick, watching the way his entire body tensed, his fists clenching the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Jason's hips buckled just slightly when your lips brushed his sensitive skin, pressing the faintest, teasing kiss along his dick—just enough to leave him gasping for breath.

"Mhm..." he groaned, desperate, his voice breaking on the word.

His hands twitched, aching to touch you, to ground himself—but he held back, barely, like he didn't want to break the moment.

You met his desperate gaze, seeing the way everything burned behind his blue eyes—longing, trust, love. He was open in a way he never allowed himself to be, his control stripped away, leaving only you.

With slow, deliberate precision, you let your tongue trace a slow, lingering line from the base of his length to the tip, savoring the salty heat of his skin as Jason shuddered violently, his head falling back with a sharp, wrecked moan.

His breath hitched again, chest heaving, every muscle in his powerful body tightening beneath your touch as you explored him, tasting every inch of his sensitive skin with slow, intentional movements.

Jason's hips jerked, chasing your touch despite his best efforts to stay still, his hands fisting the sheets with helpless need. Every shaky breath, every low, desperate groan spilling from his lips only fueled your determination to push him further.

"Fuck..." he hissed through clenched teeth.

You pressed another slow, open-mouthed kiss along his shaft, feeling the way he throbbed beneath your tongue, completely lost in the sensation.

Jason's voice broke again as he gasped, his hips lifting instinctively, chasing more, his eyes blazing with plea and passion as he watched you through heavy-lidded, desperate eyes.

His trembling voice barely managed a ragged, "Please... don't stop..." as his hands fisted tighter, his entire body shaking with how badly he needed you.

Every inch of him was laid bare, exposed not just in body, but in soul, stripped of every defense he'd ever built. He wasn't Red Hood now—he wasn't the fighter or the survivor—he was Jason, your Jason, open and vulnerable in a way he'd never been with anyone else.

His hands gripped the sheets tightly, fingers twitching with barely restrained control as he watched you, chest heaving, his jaw clenched tight as though holding himself together was the only thing keeping him grounded.

But you weren't about to let him hold back—not tonight.

With deliberate slowness, you let your lips brush softly against the sensitive skin along his length, placing a slow, open-mouthed kiss at the base. Jason's breath shattered, a harsh, desperate groan ripping from his throat as his hips jerked involuntarily at the sudden warmth of your mouth on him.

"F—" he hissed sharply, his head tipping back against the pillows, exposing the strong line of his throat as his entire body tensed, muscles rippling beneath scarred skin. His eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving, as though trying to process the sudden rush of pleasure that overtook him.

You didn't let up—you couldn't. You needed to see him unravel, to watch Jason Todd—always in control, always ready for the next fight—come undone because of you.

Slowly, you flattened your tongue and traced a slow, deliberate path along his length, savoring the faint taste of salted skin, warm and alive beneath your lips. His hips jerked again, a low, wrecked sound tearing from deep in his chest as his fingers fisted the sheets tighter, clinging to them like his life depended on it.

"God—" Jason gasped.

His body was shaking beneath you, torn between holding still and chasing more, helpless under the heat of your mouth. His breath hitched sharply when you slowly took him in deeper, letting your lips stretch around his length while your tongue teased every sensitive inch.

Jason's reaction was instant—his hips jerked again despite his best efforts, a deep, wrecked groan ripping from his throat as though you'd stolen the breath right from his lungs.

"Shit..." he groaned, his head tossing back, exposing the taut, scarred line of his neck, his sharp jaw clenched tight as though he was desperately trying to hold on.

But he couldn't—not anymore.

His hips arched, pushing deeper into your mouth as he lost himself in the sensation, every sharp intake of breath shattering into ragged, desperate groans. His hands twitched, aching to grab you, to anchor himself, but he held back—barely—letting you lead, completely surrendered.

"Please..." Jason pleaded, trembling with desperation. His blue eyes fluttered open, glazed and dazed, burning with plea and longing as he watched you, utterly lost in the sensation.

The warmth of your mouth, the heat, the intimacy—it was too much, everything, perfect. He was melting, breaking, falling... and he never wanted it to stop.

"You feel... so good..." Jason groaned.

His fingers finally loosened their tight grip on the sheets, you barely had a chance to catch your breath when Jason's hands grasped your waist, fingers pressing firmly into your skin, sending a thrill down your spine. His grip was secure, steady, but not demanding—asking, needing.

Without warning, he moved—swift and decisively —rolling you seamlessly beneath him in one fluid motion, his powerful body hovering just above yours. His strong hands pressed into the mattress on either side of you, caging you in—but instead of feeling trapped, you felt protected, anchored.

Jason's breath hitched, his intense gaze burning into yours, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts as if he couldn't quite process what was happening.

"I need you..." he whispered.

Before you could respond, Jason's hands were already moving, desperate but careful, gentle but intentional. His rough, calloused fingers traced slow, deliberate paths along your sides, grazing the sensitive skin of your waist, leaving fire in their wake. He paused just briefly, as if silently asking for permission, his breath shaking with restraint.

"Jason..." you breathed, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with need, trust, and love.

That was all he needed.

Jason moved, his fingers hooking beneath the hem of your shirt, tugging it up in one smooth motion, exposing your bare chest to the cool air. His sharp blue eyes darkened, his gaze scorching as he took you in, his breath shuddering like he was seeing something precious—sacred.

"You're... perfection," he whispered roughly, almost disbelieving, the words slipping free before he could stop them. His voice trembled with something real, raw, and aching.

You barely had time to process the sincerity in his voice before his mouth claimed yours again—fierce, hungry, and needy. His lips moved against yours with desperate intensity, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer, deeper, like he couldn't stand the distance between you.

His hands moved again, rough, urgent, tracing the waistband of your pants before pausing—his breath hitching just barely, his gaze flicking back to yours, silently asking, pleading, his sharp features softening with vulnerability.

"Is this... okay?" Jason asked you in a low voice.

"Yes... I'm yours," you whispered, fierce and unwavering, your voice steady but soft, filled with trust and certainty.

Jason let out a shaky exhale, something in his expression breaking, his eyes softening with relief—and love.

"Good..." he growled softly, possessive, but tender, his fingers tightening their hold as he tugged your pants down in one smooth, determined motion, baring you fully to his intense, hungry gaze.

His hands slowly slid down the curve of your hips, his breath hitching when his fingertips brushed the inside of your thighs, pausing for a moment—asking, waiting, needing you to want this too.

"Can I...?" Jason whispered, his voice filled with care—still asking even when you were already his.

"Yes... Jason... please," you breathed, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with want, trust, and need. You couldn't hide the desperation in your tone, couldn't stop yourself from reaching for him, from wanting him closer.

Jason's intense gaze softened at your words, something deep and unguarded flickering behind his blue eyes—relief, devotion, love.

With a exhale, he slowly shifted, his hands sliding beneath your thighs, lifting them with gentle strength, his thumbs tracing slow, reverent circles against your skin as he spread your legs apart. His fingers trembled just barely, as though still processing that this was real, that you were his.

“God... you're so fucking beautiful..." Jason whispered, the words slipping free before he could stop them.

His hands tightened their grip—secure, steady, grounding—as he gently guided your thighs open, positioning himself between them with a deliberate, controlled intensity that left your heart pounding in your chest.

His eyes never left yours, searching, watching every flicker of emotion on your face, every tremor of desire, every gasp that escaped your lips.

Jason settled between your thighs, his broad frame fitting perfectly against yours, pressing you firmly into the mattress without ever making you feel trapped—only safe, only wanted, only needed.

His chest pressed against yours, warm and solid, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned in slowly, deliberately, letting his lips brush against your skin with agonizing tenderness. You felt the soft scratch of his stubble, the heat radiating off his body as his mouth trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your neck, claiming every inch of skin he could reach.

You gasped sharply, your hands finding his back, fingers digging into his taut, muscular shoulders as he pressed closer, the weight of him settling perfectly between your thighs, making you ache for more.

"Jason..." you gasped, your voice trembling with want and need, begging without even realizing it.

Jason groaned low in response, his breath shuddering as his hands tightened on your thighs, holding you securely, firmly, like he needed you to stay right there, like letting go wasn't an option.

"I've got you..." he whispered, voice thick with emotion, his intense gaze locking onto yours once more. "I'm right here..."

Jason slowly shifted, positioning himself perfectly between your open thighs.

You felt the heat of him pressing against you, solid and hot, making your breath hitch in anticipation. Jason groaned softly, his forehead resting against yours as he adjusted, his fingers tightening their hold on your thighs with a protective intensity, anchoring both of you in the moment.

Then, with one slow, controlled movement, Jason pressed forward, slipping inside of your hole with agonizing deliberateness, his breath breaking into a sharp, ragged gasp as he finally filled you.

The sensation was everything—intense, deep, perfect. The stretch, the heat, the way he fit against you—in you—felt so right it stole the air from your lungs.

"Oh— Jason...!" you gasped, your voice trembling with a moan, your head tilting back as pleasure spiked through every nerve in your body. Your hands fisted the sheets beneath you, clinging to them as though they could keep you grounded.

Jason groaned, his hips trembling as he fought to keep himself controlled, steady, his jaw clenching with the effort.

"Shit..." he hissed, breathless, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he felt you—all of you—wrapped around him so tight, so perfectly that his entire world seemed to tilt. His fingers dug into your hips just enough to keep him grounded, to anchor himself in the overwhelming sensation.

"You feel... so good..." Jason groaned, his voice breaking on the words, filled with wonder and disbelief, as though he still couldn't quite process that this was real—that you were his.

Your body arched into him, your thighs tightening around his waist as you let out another sharp, breathy moan, your fingers dragging down the hard planes of his back, feeling every tense, straining muscle beneath your fingertips.

"Jason..." you whispered helplessly, your voice shaking with pleasure, desperation, and love.

Jason pulled back just enough before slowly thrusting forward again with deliberate, controlled intensity.

His rhythm was slow, sensual, each movement intentional, measured—worshiping. Every slow roll of his hips sent waves of pleasure through your entire body, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

"You feel... so good..." Jason whispered, his eyes never left yours, watching, memorizing every gasp, every moan, every shudder he drew from you.

"Jason..." you whimpered, your fingers dragging down his back, feeling every tense, straining muscle move beneath your touch. "Don't stop... please..."

"I won't..." Jason growled softly, promise etched into every ragged word. "I've got you... I'm not going anywhere."

His pace stayed slow, steady, deep, his hips rolling in a way that made your entire body tremble. Each thrust was precise, intimate, personal—filled with love, devotion, and longing.

A soft, needy moan escape out of your mouth as you leaned up, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, your fingers tangling into his thick, dark hair as you pulled him closer, until there was no space left between you.

Jason let out a low groan, his grip on your waist tightening as your lips brushed against the side of his neck, feeling the warmth of his pulse pounding beneath your mouth. His entire body shuddered, his sharp inhale sharp, like he hadn't expected the rush of sensation.

You lingered, your breath hot against his skin, placing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just beneath his ear, feeling the faint scratch of his stubble against your lips. His hips jerked, pressing deeper against you, a broken gasp escaping from his lips.

Jason pulled you even closer, anchoring you like he couldn't stand the thought of letting you go.

"Jason..." you moaned, his name spilling from your lips in a soft, breathy whimper as you pressed another kiss into the curve of his neck, slow, intentional, savoring the way he shuddered beneath you.

"Say that again..." Jason growled softly, his voice low and dangerous, thick with desire and need, like the sound of his name from your lips was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Jason..." you whispered again, breathless, your lips brushing against the taut, straining line of his throat as you kissed him deeper, feeling the way his entire body tightened in response. "Jason... please..."

His breath hitched, his forehead falling against yours as he groaned your name in response, desperate and wrecked, trembling like he was losing control.

"You're... gonna kill me," Jason muttered, his voice breaking as his lips brushed yours in a slow, tender kiss that was somehow fierce, devoted, and loving all at once. "God... you're perfect..."

His hands gripped your hips, steady and firm, grounding you as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His fingers tightened, pressing just enough to leave a burning trail across your skin, not from possession, but from need, want, and worship.

Your hands slid up his back, fingers digging into the hard planes of his shoulders as you held him closer, urging him deeper.

His blue eyes softened, something deep and unguarded flickering behind the desire—love, trust, and something more, something real. He lowered his forehead against yours, steadying himself, his lips brushing yours in a soft, reverent kiss filled with everything he couldn't say.

With one slow, deliberate movement, Jason pressed forward, his hips rolling as he slipped inside you with such precision. His breath hitched sharply, a low, wrecked groan tearing from his throat as he felt you—all of you—surrounding him, holding him, pulling him in.

The sensation was everything. He filled you completely, stretching you with perfect, intense fullness, leaving you gasping, your back arching off the mattress as a sharp, breathy moan spilled from your lips.

"Fuck— Jason...!" you cried, your voice trembling with pleasure and want, helpless against the overwhelming sensation of having him so deep, so intimately connected.

Jason shuddered, his body trembling as he buried himself fully inside of your hole, his chest heaving, muscles taut as he held still, giving you a moment to adjust. His sharp jaw clenched, and his hands dug into your waist, grounding himself as his breath staggered, spilling into the heated space between you.

"F—... You feel... so fucking good," Jason groaned.

Your body tightened around him instinctively, drawing another deep, desperate groan from his chest as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezing shut for just a moment, overwhelmed by the pleasure that consumed him.

"Jason..." you whimpered, your voice shaking, filled with want and need, pleading for him to move, to never stop. You arched beneath him, your thighs tightening around his waist, urging him closer, deeper.

"I'm right here..." Jason whispered, his breath shaking as he slowly pulled back, only to thrust forward again with deliberate intensity, filling you to the hilt with a deep, slow roll of his hips. "I'm not going anywhere..."

The sensation was overwhelming, perfect, each slow, sensual thrust sending shockwaves through your entire body, leaving you gasping and aching for more.

"I want to see you... All of you..." Jason voiced, his eyes never leaving yours. "Let me..."

You could feel the tension in his strong arms, the way his fingers flexed against your waist, fighting to stay in control, even though his entire body shuddered beneath yours, aching for more.

"Take what you need..." he whispered, his voice rough, filled with love and desire. "I'm yours..."

Before you could process the depth of his words, Jason's hands shifted, guiding your thighs slowly until you were straddling him, your knees bracketing his solid, strong hips. His eyes burned with intensity, searching your face for any sign of hesitation—but there was none.

You were his, and he was yours.

His hands tightened around your waist, his strong fingers digging in just enough to make you feel how much he needed this—how much he needed you. He held still, his breath shuddering as he watched you, waiting, letting you lead.

A slow shaky breath escaped your lips as you sank down onto him, feeling every inch stretch and fill your hole completely. A helpless moan spilled from your lips, your back arching as the intensity of being so close, so connected, overwhelmed you.

Jason let out a broken, wrecked groan, his head falling back against the pillows as his hips jerked instinctively, chasing more of your warmth. "Shit... You feel... fuck," he whispered as his hands tightened on your waist, anchoring you firmly in place.

"Jason..." you gasped, your voice breathless and shaking, your nails dragging down his taut, muscular chest as you adjusted, savoring the way his body tensed beneath your touch.

Then you started moving, your hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles as you ground against him, feeling the way his entire body shuddered beneath you, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts.

"Fuck... Just like that..." Jason groaned, his fingers digging deeper into your waist, guiding your movements while still letting you lead. His blue eyes burned into yours, dark and consumed, like you were the only thing that existed in his world.

Your breath hitched as you moved faster, feeling the way his hips thrust up to meet yours in perfect rhythm, filling you with every slow, deep stroke. The intensity of being so close, so connected, left you breathless, your body shaking from the pleasure building between you.

"God dammit..." you moaned, pleading, your fingers clutching his shoulders as your movements quickened, driven by need, love, and something far deeper than desire.

With one strong thrust, he pulled you down harder, his hips slamming into yours, drawing a sharp, helpless cry from your lips. His breath shuddered, his forehead falling against yours, his hands sliding up your back, holding you close, keeping you safe even as he lost himself in you.

You let out a breathless moan as your hips rolled against him, feeling the stretch, the heat, the way he filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, perfect, and left you aching for more.

A groan escaped Jason's parted lips.

"Just like that..." he whispered, his hands flexing on your hips as though fighting to keep control.  "Hold on..."

Jason pulled you down while lifting his hips, filling you so deeply that a helpless cry spilled from your lips. Your fingers clutched at his broad shoulders, digging in as you shuddered beneath the force of his movement.

“Fuck..." Jason groaned as he watched you intensely. "That's it... Just like that... I've got you."

He set the rhythm, controlling your movements with expert precision, slowly at first—each deep, rolling thrust deliberate, intentional, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him. His breath shuddered with effort as he watched your reactions, his grip steady but firm, guiding you exactly how he wanted.

"Jason..." you gasped as you clung to him, begging for more.

"I know..." he whispered with full devotion. "I know, baby... I've got you... I'm right here..."

His pace quickened, his thrusts growing stronger, deeper, until you could feel him completely—intense, all-consuming, perfect. Each snap of his hips sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body, leaving you breathless, helpless, wrecked.

"You're mine..." Jason growled, his voice low and possessive, his fingers tightening on your hips as he drove into you harder, deeper, like he couldn't get enough. His lips brushed yours in a fierce, desperate kiss, swallowing your moans as if they were the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Say my name..." he demanded softly, his voice breaking with need, his forehead pressed against yours, his hips rolling into you with intense precision.

"Jason...!" you cried, helpless, your voice trembling with pleasure as your hands gripped his shoulders, clinging to him like he was the only thing anchoring you in reality.

"That's it.." Jason whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his rhythm never breaking, never stopping, his love etched into every thrust, every touch, every breath.

"I'm gonna cum..." you gasped with pleasure, helpless beneath the intensity of his touch.

His lips found your neck, hot and possessive, leaving a trail of fire down your jawline, his breath ragged and uneven as he groaned your name like a prayer. His hips rolled with perfect rhythm, hitting deeper, harder, right there, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

"Cum, baby..." Jason whispered in your ear.

The pressure inside you built, hot and unstoppable, coiling tighter with every thrust, every touch, every breath shared between you. The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming, intense—a storm you couldn't escape, couldn't fight, couldn't resist.

"Jason... please..." you cried out.

"I know..." Jason voiced, barely hanging on as his pace quickened, his hips slamming into you with purpose, power, and precision, driving you closer, higher, further. "Cum for me..."

Your body shuddered, trembling on the edge of release, every muscle tightening, every nerve sparking as the heat in your core exploded, spreading through you like fire.

And then—you broke.

"Jason—!" you cried, helpless and overwhelmed as pleasure erupted, unstoppable and all-consuming, crashing over you like tidal waves that left you breathless, shaking, and completely lost in him.

Your body arched against his, your head tilting back as you gasped for air, clutching him like he was the only thing keeping you together. His name spilled from your lips in ragged, pleading cries as the pleasure surged again and again, leaving you dazed and wrecked in his strong, steady arms.

Jason let out a shaky, low groan, his breath breaking as he felt you tighten around him, his entire body tensing, trembling, losing control right along with you.

"Fuck—" Jason gasped, his hips stuttering, jerking into you with desperation, his breath hitching as he followed you, breaking apart in your arms with a raw, helpless sound torn from his chest.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close, securing you, like he couldn't stand the thought of being anywhere else. His forehead pressed against yours, his blue eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps.

"I love you..." he whispered such with emotion, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tender kiss that felt like promise, devotion, and love.

[theoppositeofprofound]

STOP assigning pre-modern characters the trait “would commit tax fraud” without understanding how hard tax fraud was back in the days when a tax collector would physically come to your estate and assess your sitch. Do you have any idea how easy kids these days have it? You can just claim a few fake deductions or lie on a form and be a tax criminal. Your ancestors and fantasy faves had to work for those pennies.

Look at this house. This house has no mortar so it can be collapsed or moved to avoid taxation. That’s the sort of innovation I need to be seeing before you can call anyone in a feudal society a tax fraudster. They need to be hiding warehouses of goods, shoving grandpa in the basement to dodge the censusman, starting small regional wars, fleeing their villages in a constant semi-nomadic race against the forces of government, registering twins as a single child, or putting their life on the line to sell blackmarket bread. Come back when you have some tax fraud I can respect, not just a guy who looks kind of sleazy and sometimes does paperwork.

[cushfuddled]

I saw a post which claimed since Americans are spending unprecedented amounts of money on holiday gifts this year [1][2]...

the American public isn't actually as strapped for cash as we say or think we are, and

Americans didn’t vote for Trump out of economic frustration.

Like.

I hope you guys know Americans aren't splurging on gifts because we can afford to do so.

The majority of Americans live paycheck to paycheck [3], and yet vacations are on the rise, with Millennials and Gen Z-ers at the front of the trend. [4][5]

It’s not excess capital. It’s nihilism.[6][7][8]

"If you work hard and save your money, someday you can buy a house/raise a family/retire." So goes the conventional wisdom, now fine viscera under the wheels of an Amazon forklift. Even older generations can't afford to retire these days [9]. You can buy a shed for the price of a master's degree. And how are you supposed to raise a child when your full-time job barely covers your grocery bills?

Knowing they'll never travel as a retiree, people are splurging on plane tickets right out of school. Knowing class mobility is a lottery pull, people are dumping their last few pennies into meme tokens and other get-rich-quick schemes. Knowing they're already saddled with lifelong debt, people are saying "fuck it" and grabbing a shovel—because at this point, what's a car payment on top of every other loan they'll never repay? "Things will keep getting worse anyway."

Americans are spending stupid amounts of money on vacations [10] and extravagant gifts [11], yes—but they're not spending THEIR money. They're spending Klarna's money, and the bank's money, and when the bills come due people aren't paying them. We're all just doing kickflips on our way down the drain.

The question, "How does killing the UnitedHealthCare CEO solve anything?" misses the point. The shooter may have believed he was doing the American people a favor, but I don't think the majority of Americans are cheering on Brian's death because they believe it will manifest universal healthcare. It's just nice to see the rich criminals who profit off our pain suffer for their choices.

Even if the Dems had acknowledged our financial straits (I find Atrioc's video "Slowly, Then All at Once" to be very helpful re: why the numbers look good but nobody can afford to live)...I still don't think Kamala Harris would've won the presidency. Again, Americans don't believe progress is possible anymore—at least not via our current system of government. Extremists are banking on a wholesale descent into anarchy. Your everyday worker is distracting themselves from impending financial implosion with daily Beverages (I'm stopping here to take a sip of my Rockstar energy drink). Hope is a heavy burden. Instead, people keep their eyes on their feet. One day at a time. Sometimes on its way to the brick wall, their speeding car hits a CEO—and sometimes it mows down a crowd of schoolchildren. Sometimes we're all just trashing the bathroom.

That's Donald Trump's presidential win, to me. Let the horse take over the hospital, America declared—why not, if none of us can afford a hospital visit anyway. Let the nation descend into anarchy and fascism—why not, if we never had rights/liberty to begin with.

It's not logical. It's lashing out in pain like a cornered animal.

The rule of law doesn't apply to the wealthy, as emblemized by our incumbent president's 34 felony charges. It punishes the marginalized by design, for the benefit of corrupt institutions. Harris would've given us a chance to get back on our feet...but with her centrist prosecutorial approach, she represents the law. Donald Trump represents chaos. He's a champion of the CEOs who bankrupt and maim and kill us, but as a certifiable toddler with no object permanence and a suitcase full of ketchup packets and nuclear launch codes, he's also a fucking nightmare to babysit around the White House. That's the best some people can hope for in this country: To give their tormentors a headache. To "trigger the libs." To treat their representatives to the smallest taste of their own helplessness and hopelessness and fear and anger and pain.

People do not have money. People do not have hope. People do not have compassion.

I don't feel any sympathy for Trump voters, and I don't mean to minimize the role of bigotry in this election. This country was founded on genocide and slavery, and that legacy still permeates our culture. I only mean to explain—not excuse—some of this group's behavior. It's a trend suffered on all sides of the aisle: Nihilism externalized as sabotage, whether directed at oneself or others. People are so sick of watching this boat sink into the ocean they've set it on fire just to feel like they had a say in it.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

So let's talk about rape, and porn, and why porn isn't rape.

By now, I've seen more than a few people talking about that OnlyFans chick who fucked 100 guys in a single day and ended up crying afterwards. Let's just say this up front: That's incredibly sad. It's not unique, because there have been a lot of pornstars over the years who have had gangbangs with hundreds of guys before, but it is sad. She obviously wasn't mentally prepared for what she did, and it obviously affected her in ways she wasn't expecting. I feel bad for her, and I hope she ends up learning a lesson from this about the emotional impact of casual sex and treating her body like a commodity to be sold to strangers.

But I've also seen way too many people equating what she did to being raped, and the men who had sex with her to rapists. And that's just not even remotely true. Regret is not rape. She chose to have sex with those men. She chose to keep going with every new guy that showed up. At any point she could have said "Okay, this isn't good, I want to stop now". But that never happened.

Now, I know some people will read that and say that all porn is a form of rape, because paying a woman to have sex is taking her agency away or "forcing" her or "coercing" her. Those people are wrong. Unless someone is actually being forced to do porn, porn is voluntary. Porn stars and OF people and camgirls/guys all choose to have sex in front of a camera for money.

"But the money!" some of you are saying. "The money makes it coercive!"

Well, okay. Let's look at that argument. So, what does coercion mean? It means, according to the dictionary

the practice of persuading someone to do something by using force or threats

Note the last three words. Force or threats. I think we can all agree that threatening or forcing someone to have sex is wrong. But accepting money to perform a job, even if that job is having sex, is not coercion. It's never coercion. It's a voluntary pact between buyer and seller. Even if the person doing the selling is dirt poor.

"But," some others may say, "what if she wanted to stop but some of the guys talked her into continuing?"

To that I say, "So what?"

Convincing someone to do something is not coercion. Even if you're convincing someone to do something they don't want to do. Even if that person really wants to say no, but ends up saying yes. Unless there's force or a threat, it's not coercion. Making bad decisions is not equal to being raped. Talking someone into making a bad decision is not equal to being a rapist. We can't just throw around the most emotionally charged terms we can think of whenever we want to make a point about something that upset you. That's what the left does, and it's the reason why words that should mean very specific things have become watered down. It's why words that used to elicit horror and revulsion now barely get a shrug. Nazi, racist, rapist, fascist, abuser, war criminal. All these words have specific meanings. All these words are used everyday on social media to talk about exes or parents or politicians or friends or celebrities or strangers. Think of how many times you've heard someone use those words. Now think of how many times you actually took the arguments of the person using them seriously after they used them. I'm guessing that first number is pretty high. And I'm guessing that last number is low, if it isn't actually zero.

Don't turn yourselves into the leftists who presided over the biggest electoral shellacking in a generation. Don't adopt the language and tactics of the people who have turned nearly every demographic against them by doing exactly this same shit. If you want to hate porn, go ahead. If you want to advocate against it, go ahead. If you want to get angry at the way sex is treated these days, go right the fuck ahead. But when you do, really think about why you're doing it, and articulate those reasons without trying to get people to respond emotionally by using the worst, most incendiary language you can think of. That's not how you're going to get anything done.

[liyawritesss]

ʀᴀɴᴄʜᴇʀ!ᴀʀᴛʜᴜʀ ᴍᴏʀɢᴀɴ

-> synopsis: in which arthur was able to set aside his criminal ways and leave the Van der Linde gang and live a life of relative normalcy, and perhaps meet a nice little lady to make it all worth it

         -> pairing: rancher!arthur morgan + black!fem!reader

-> from: red dead redemption 2

         -> contains: age-gap (reader is 27, arthur is 37), 2nd person ('you', 'your', 'yours'), references to canon-violence and crimes

-> a/n: my knowledge of Red Dead Redemption is limited, only really coming from watching gameplays and from beta-reading a friends fic, but arthur morgan the man that you are! I really just want him to have a good life outside the gang so i played with the whole rancher idea a little bit here, with a little bit of gen. store clerk!reader, so i hope you guys enjoy!

         -> join my taglist!

-> tags: @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @marsfunzon22 @briology @asensitivecookie @moon-bo-young @flo-milli-shit-hoe

ARTHUR MORGAN who eventually turns in his weapons and hangs in the towel of his criminal days, feigning for something more out of life than the thrill of a hunt, Though the decision wasn’t an easy one (mainly because Dutch never made things easy), the man took one last job and took the earnings from it to buy a good 10-acre stretch of land in the southern midwest territories where he knew trouble wouldn’t find him if it came looking. Within the next year he settles down into the life of a rancher, and he couldn’t have asked for anything better.

RANCHER!ARTHUR MORGAN who has taken forever to nail down a routine that actually sticks when it comes to waking up and rousing the animals for the day. He does the chickens first, cuz he hates those little fuckers and how they always like to peck at his feet even though he knows he tosses the corn and feed pellets far away from him. Then the hogs start squealing whenever he even nears the pen, and Arthur always mutters about how they just ate the night before, how can they be this hungry already? After throwing their slop into the feeder, he opens the barn doors to let the cows know it’s morning and that they’ll be milked soon, but he learned not the milk them just as they wake up because they in fact do not like to be fondled so early in the morning. Instead, he grabs his horse and rounds up the few sheep and goats he’s got  and leads them to nearby pasture to graze. Here, Arthur gets the chance to rest a little, maybe snack on some dried meat and journal about his dreams if he’s had any, his aspirations for the day, or maybe even sketch the view.

RANCHER!ARTHUR MORGAN who learns to like making the honest living he’s got going. It may not be as thrill seeking as robbing trains or starting saloon fights or gunslinging like the old days, but he’s comfortable. Content, even. Sometimes he’ll sell one of the hogs for a pretty penny and can afford to buy himself something he likes. The people in the nearest town say his milk from his cows is the best they’ve had in a long time! He’s not a star or anything, but he’s got something good going for himself and he’ll be damned if he lets it wither and die like the dreams he had in his youth.

RANCHER!ARTHUR MORGAN who won’t lie to himself and say he doesn’t miss his old life. At the start, he feigned for it so bad; he’d try to rationalize it and say that it wouldn’t hurt no one, but he knew better. Sometimes he’d lie awake in the modest little house that was on the property when he bought it, reminiscing about the good times in the gang before the cracks started showing. When they could make a quick scheme and walk away feeling like the richest men in the world. He missed his brothers and their asshole behavior; he missed the girls sometimes, too, even if they got on his nerves. But they were behind him, and he knew he couldn’t go back. For his sake, and for theirs.

RANCHER!ARTHUR MORGAN who rides into town one day to drop off some milk at the general store to see someone new behind the counter; someone younger and prettier than the stuffy old lad who talks to proper and irritates Arthur with his poshness. He’s so taken off guard that he almost drops the crate of milk he’s carrying in. He learns that you’re the store owner’s daughter and that you’ve taken over for him because he got into a wild riding accident, and that he’d be out for the next couple of months. You try not to make it so awkward on Arthur, as it seems like seeing you behind the counter instead of your father has already thrown him for a loop. When the cowboy promptly drops off the milk and bids a quick farewell, you fear you’ve made a horrible first impression.

RANCHER!ARTHUR MORGAN who comes back a week later with a much more level head and a little less awkward now that he expects you behind the counter. This time he brings with him some seeds to sell that he’d gotten from a farmer a couple miles down the road that he didn’t want. He thought he’d be able to sell or exchange them for something he’d actually use. He was quiet, yet polite, and had an air of mystery around him that intrigued her. It wasn’t every day a handsome rancher came into the general store, and you wanted to know everything you could about this Arthur Morgan, who kept his cards close to his chest and was a man of few words.

RANCHER!ARTHUR MORGAN who made his visits slightly longer every time he’d come into the general store, whether to sell his goods or to buy some tools or necessities from himself. After a handful of encounters, he finally blessed you with more of his voice and words - they had a roughness to them from years of hard work, but was still warm and inviting. The way he called you ‘miss’ and way he tipped his cowboy hat to you as a farewell made you giddy like a little schoolgirl. You found yourself looking forward to opening the general store every day, hoping to have a conversation with Arthur Morgan if he’d come in.

RANCHER!ARTHUR MORGAN who says to you “I ain’t so good with the ladies” when you ask him why he always seems so shy talking to you, and it actually makes you giggle a little. Arthur Morgan, the unit of a man that he is, admitting his timidity of a woman? What God in Heaven made this be so? Oh, but you have no intention of letting it be just that. No, you tell Arthur Morgan, “I can teach you, if you’d like”, and you swear you see the lightest dust of pink cross his cheeks. He’s got half a mind to walk out of there like a puppy with it’s tail between it’s legs; how could you make him so embarrassed like that! Though, if it’s you than plans on teach him how to be a little less dense and awkward around women, he probably wouldn’t mind it. Maybe he could even return the favor and have you writhing in bashfulness…

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[babymetaldoll]

Are you mine - Chapter fifteen: "Love is pain"

Summary: Cat Adams kidnapped Diana Reid and Spencer has to do whatever it takes to bring her back safe, including facing his marriage ain't perfect in front of Adams. Will the Reids be strong enough to fix this?  Word count: 9.480  Warnings: Cursing, spoilers of Criminal Mind Ep 22, angst  A/N: So, Spencer didn't go to jail, but life wasn't easy for him either.  I hope you guys enjoyed it. 

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Spencer’s point of view

The minute I stood before Prentiss and she said Cat Adams had my mother, my entire world crumbled. It was the worst plot twist in history. It meant my darkest fears were becoming true. A fucking psychopath was after my family, and who knew how far she could get to hurt me.

- “We need your help”- Prentiss went straight to the point- “If we want to find your mother, we need you to talk to her.”

- “No fucking way!”- (Y/N) reacted right away.- “That fucking lunatic is obsessed with Spencer. If you take him to her, you are giving her what she wants”

- “It’s the only way we can find Diana.”- Emily added and looked at me. (Y/N) dropped my hand and widened her eyes, shocked.

- “It’s ok, Chipmunk.”- I whispered.- “I have to do it, for my mom. Before she hurts her.”

- “Then I’m going with you.”- my wife replied, and before I could argue, she added- “And this time, I am not taking no for an answer. If you wanna go, I’ll be there with you.”

- “(Y/N), I don’t think…”- but whatever Emily was about to say to my wife, was never heard by anyone, ‘cos one look from (Y/N) silenced her in her spot.

- “The jet is ready. JJ will be going with you.”- Prentiss finally said and I just nodded.

We didn’t talk much during the flight to Iowa, to the Mount Pleasant Women's Correctional Facility. (Y/N) drank coffee while I just stared out the window, thinking about every single word I had said to Cat the one and only time we had talked. She kept asking about my mom, and she knew I had a pregnant wife. She had clearly done her investigation about me, the same way I had done about her. But why couldn’t she let go? Why did she say we had unfinished business?

I knew Cat had been in solitary confinement for almost six months. I knew what that could do to the psyche of an inmate. At best, they suffer from delusions. At worst, they're psychotic. And I knew with her, it was always the worst scenario possible.

As we walked into the facility, I tried to focus. I wanted to be able to treat that case as I’d treat any other. I wanted to take my mother out of the equation, but I couldn't. Of course, it was impossible. My head and my heart were one. And though I knew I had to try to keep a cool head to save my mother’s life, the fact I had to break a psychopath’s act to get to her made everything impossible to bear.

- “Remember Spence, I’ll be here the whole time.”- JJ said and I turned to her in silence. My wife held my hand and didn’t say a word. I knew she would never leave me alone. I stared at Cat Adams from the other side of the glass, sitting at a table in the interrogation room and I knew I was ready to get my mother back.

- “If she gets too close, I’m gonna kill her.”- (Y/N) whispered as JJ walked to the door and opened it.

- “I’ll be ok, chipmunk.”- I replied and squeezed her hand. My wife tried to smile but failed miserably.- “Please, stay here.”

- “No, I’m going in there with you.”

- “(Y/N), I don’t think it’s a good idea”- JJ said, supporting me.- “If Cat has any fantasy about Spencer, having his wife around won’t help her at all.”

- “Trust me, I’ll be fine. And you’ll be near me the entire time.”- I whispered to my wife.- “Please.”- she just nodded, and I quickly kissed her forehead.

- “Ok, ready?”- JJ asked, and before I could say a word, I found myself walking into the interrogation room.

- “Spencie.”- Cat said and smiled at me like she was actually happy to see me.

- “Where is my mother?”- I demanded to know immediately.

- “I missed you.”- she ignored my questions and sighed, staring at me, while I did my best to remain calm. Which, of course, didn’t work.

- “What did you and Lindsey do to her? How did you…- but my questions were ignored, Cat raised her hand and stopped me.

- “Now stop. You don't get to walk in here and hiss at me like I'm the criminal.”- I had a million comebacks for that statement, but I let her talk. I needed to read her and force her to make a mistake.- “Now, we do this my way.”- Cat kicked the chair in front of her and I took it right away.- “Have a seat. How is (Y/N)? And the kids?”

- “We are not talking about my family.”

- “I thought we were gonna talk about your mom. She is family too, right?”

- “Where is she?”.

- “It's not fun, is it? Not being in control of the whole situation?”- a silly grin hung from her mouth as she stared at me. JJ stood against a wall, crossing her arms on her chest, keeping an eye on every move Adam made.

- “What do you want from me, Cat? Revenge ‘cos I put you here? This is where you belong. I didn’t lock you here, you got yourself in here.”

- “How do you stay sane with two kids?”- Cat asked the most random question, trying to force me into her conversation.- “A brain like yours needs stimulation, and I don’t think kids provide any.”

- “Being a father is the most rewarding thing I have ever done.”

- “Yeah yeah, whatever you say. I bet you miss reading.”

- “I still read.”

- “You need time for yourself. Time to be the boy genius you are. Being a genius and being a dad are two way too different things.” - she smiled at me like she knew how I felt. Like she could relate or understand how it felt to be a parent.

- “My kids are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Cat. But I don’t expect you to understand that feeling. It involves thinking about someone else except yourself.”

- “That's still not enough. You have to go someplace up here.”- she said pointing to her forehead. - “Somewhere to hide from all that madness, yells, diapers, Play-Doh... plus your mom around. That had to be crazy.”

Cat made a brief pause and stared at me. I just kept looking at her, trying not to move a muscle.

- “Do you want to see where I go? I'll show you. Come here.”- she moved her index fingers as she spoke, so I leaned on the table, resting my hands on it. Cat smiled and raised her hands to my eyes, but before she could do anything, JJ commanded.

- “No touching.”- but of course, Cat ignored her, she just touched my eyelids gently as I closed my eyes.

- “Close your eyes. Good. Now keep them shut. Sit back and relax. Now, when you open your eyes, I want you to look at me like I'm the first woman who’s not your wife you've seen in your life. Now... Open.”

- “Hello, Cat.”- I whispered as I played along with her fantasy. She giggled and stared at me pleased to see me. Honestly.

- “You're here! You're really here.”

- “There's nowhere else I would rather be.”- I replied and smiled at her.

- “You're good at this. You're so good at this, I almost believe you don't want to kill me.”

- “I don't want to kill you.”- I replied as she raised an eyebrow and kept looking into my eyes seductively. I wasn’t lying, I didn’t want to kill her. Unless she hurt my mother or any other member of my family.

- “No?”

- “No.”- I shook my head and did my best to remain calm.

- “What if I let your mother die? Then would you kill me? Or would you just… hurt me?”- the way she said that last word let me know she didn’t mean it in a bad way.- “Would you pin me down and leave bruises that don't go away?”- I leaned over her and kept staring into her eyes. I knew my wife hated every second of that conversation, but I had to get in Cat’s head.

- “Is that what you want?”- I whispered in a low voice.

- “I guess I just want to know if you would. If you could.”- she murmured looking at the ceiling, trying to look innocent and sexy.

- “No.”- I simply replied, not breaking eye contact.

- “No?”

- “It's not the kind of man I am.”- I guess she was pleased with my answer, ‘cos she bit her lips and simply demanded.

- “Do me a favor and tell blondie over there to step aside, because we're gonna play another game. And this time, we're going to find out exactly what kind of man you are.”- I didn’t say a word, I just turned to JJ and nodded. She hesitated for a second before walking toward the door to meet my wife at the other side of the glass.

- “Let’s play.”- I said staring at Cat's psycho smile

- “Let’s!”

I don’t know if my wife was ready for what was about to happen, but I knew it was going to be way worse than last time.

- “Are you hungry?”- Cat asked randomly.

- “No.”

- “Me neither.”- she replied, looking bored of the conversation.

- “So the same game as last time? I answer every question you ask honestly?”- I tried to set the course of the conversation, sitting back on my chair and looking at her.

- “No, this time you get to ask the questions.”- she proposed and I raised an eyebrow, trying to look intrigued.

- “About what?”

- “Well, I know a secret. About you. And you can ask me as many questions as you like to figure it out. But you only get one guess as to what it is. Now, guess correctly, I take your phone, I call our friend Lindsey, and I tell her to release your mother unharmed. If you don't…”- Cat tried to look all innocent as she put two of her fingers inside her mouth, pointing like a gun, and pretended to blow her brains out as she giggled.

- “Is there a clock?”- I asked, trying to look unaffected by her performance.

- “There's always a clock. Give it to me.”- I handed her my wristwatch and she stared at her carefully. - “Now, you'll have 4 hours.”- I opened my mouth, but she stopped me in a second.- “Not yet. You have to wait till the second hand comes around.”

- “You want to give me a hint before we start?”- I whispered as she kept staring at my clock.

- “Do I look like a girl that gives hints?

- “Actually you do.”- and I did my best to sound like I was flirting a little bit. I knew a little would go a long way in her head.

- “Ok, how about this? It's a secret you'll never admit to.”- there was a long and tense pause between us, where we just tried to read each other, and failed in the process.- “Go!”

(Y/N)’s point of view

Hell is a place on earth, and for me, that place was right there, in that waiting area, hearing that interrogation. It was ten times worse than it had been two years before, when Spencer and Cat had that “dinner date”, if you can call what they had a date.

I had to stare at her flirting with him, and my husband was letting her, even making her believe he was enjoying her attention. ‘Cause, of course, he is not enjoying her attention. No way. I am not even going to consider that thought.

- “I know what the secret is.”- Spencer announced.

- “You do?”

- “Why else would you put me through all this?”

- “Ooh. Phrasing it in the form of a question. That way it doesn't count as a guess. Very smart, doctor.”- Cat replied, playing with Spencer’s watch. I hated watching it in her hands. Something that was so Spencer’s. Something that he loved, tainted by her.

- “I'm gonna walk you through a scenario and your face is gonna tell me how close I am.”- my husband used his softest voice as he stared at her. And she didn’t move, she looked hypnotized by him. - “From the moment I arrested you, you watched and waited for the right time to take your revenge. When you learned I was taking my mom to live with us, you took it. You and Lindsey planned to kidnap my mother so I would know how it feels to have a parent manipulated because you want to prove that you and I are the same. Am I right?”

Cat yawned as Spencer stopped talking, I clenched my fists and just stared at the scene unfolding in front of me from the other side of the glass.

- “Mmm, sorry, I couldn't hold that in any longer. What were you saying?”- Cat teased, but Spencer didn’t even move as he replied.

- “Psychopaths get bored easily.”

- “You're right. Let's speed this up. Shall we?”- Cat stood up and walked toward my husband. My first reaction was to take a step closer to the door because I wanted to get there and stop her, but JJ grabbed my arm.

- “Wait. Let him do this.”

- “Sure, let’s leave Cat sit on my husband’s lap and fulfill her fucking dream.”

- “(Y/N), I don’t think she’s…”- but JJ couldn't go on talking. Cat Adams was, in fact, sitting on my husband’s lap. And he wasn’t arguing with her.

- “He is doing what he has to do to get his mother back”- I whispered and closed my eyes, trying to convince myself it wasn’t such a big deal.

- “Why don't you think about all the pain you've suffered in your life.”- Cat’s voice was soft and seductive. She even dared to play with the buttons of his shirt. - “What would I capitalize on, do you think? Is it the death of your mentor, SSA Jason Gideon?”

- “No. Because we caught the man who killed him.”- Spencer replied, not reacting to any of her movements, even when she was moving her fingers against his chin clearly mimicking oral sex.

- “What about Agent Morgan?” Cat paused and stared at his reaction. Still, Spencer didn’t give her any, so she moved closer and whispered in his ear. - “And your guilt over not visiting his little boy.”

- “He understands, I was taking care of my mother.”

- “Yeah, but you could make the time if you wanted to.”- Cat whispered and her lips were too close to his neck. I was getting close to my limit. I wanted her away from my husband.- “Why didn't you go?”

- “Truthfully, I got distracted. I was trying to figure out a way to help my mom. She didn't have time.”- Cat nodded and moved her lips closer to Spencer’s ear, ready to kiss it, but he just continued talking.- “Morgan, Savannah, and little Bobby did. So there's absolutely no shame in admitting that. Morgan would understand.”

So that was what Spencer was trying to get. How Cat had all that information. And by saying baby Hank’s name wrong, he got it.

- “I agree. That's why that's not the secret.”- Cat stood up from his lap and returned to her chair. JJ grabbed her phone and dialed Emily. As for me, I let out a small sigh and wished I could hold my husband tight. I knew he was going through hell. He even turned to look at the glass when Cat had her back at him, and I wish I could smile at him.

- “I love you, honey.”- I whispered, though I knew he couldn’t hear me.

- “Go ahead, JJ.”- Rossi’s voice on the other side of the line took me to reality. JJ had called the guys to tell them what was happening, ‘cos we needed to make progress and find Diana soon.

- “So Cat has a deep background on Spence. She knew about Gideon’s death and Morgan leaving the team for his family.”- JJ explained quickly.

- “She's throwing him off-balance.”- David pointed out.

- “Yeah, but Spence also purposely gave the wrong name of Morgan's son, and she didn't correct him.”

- “She must have gotten her hands on Reid's confidential FBI file. It would mention relevant team information but wouldn't name Morgan's baby because of confidentiality reasons.”- Emily barely breathed as she spoke. I turned to look at JJ, and she locked eyes with me as Rossi added

- “We were thinking she's been getting help from someone inside the prison. This goes deeper than that.”

- “So there is someone from our side helping Cat?”- I asked before JJ would hang up.

- “(Y/N), you know technically you shouldn’t…”

- “Oh come on, Emily!”- and I snapped before she could finish talking.- “We all know it’s impossible to keep any of us away from an investigation. So don’t waste your time, and tell me, is someone from our side giving Cat information? Does someone hate Spencer that much?"

- “We don’t know that yet, but we’ll tell you as soon as we can.”- Prentiss replied. JJ rubbed my arm, trying to calm me down, and I whispered “Thank you” to everyone and anyone who could hear me.

I turned to the glass again, Cat was still playing with Spencer’s watch, the one I was clearly going to replace with a new one ‘cos I didn’t want to think of her every time I stared at it.

- “Working deductively, the secret wouldn't be any of the topics you've already volunteered, because you wouldn't want to make it that easy on me.”- Spencer said and Cat looked annoyed by every word.

- “Genius, truly.”

- “So what is left that I wouldn't want to admit?”- my husband paused, and I hated the word that left his lips next- “Love. Is that what this is all about, love?”- Cat didn’t even blink as Spencer added- “Or my mother?”

Adams stopped moving, and kept her hands still for a moment, as Spencer played to read her. I don’t know if he was actually going somewhere with that statement, but I guess he had a plan.

- “No.”- he finally whispered- “For you. You want me to admit that I am actually in love with you.”

So far, I wasn't excited with that statement.

- “Don't get me wrong, I love my fairy tales, clearly, as much as the next girl, but I'm not delusional. I know you have always been in love with the same boring woman”- at least that bitch knew where she was standing.

- “Are you sure that’s not what you wanna hear?”- Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow as Cat laid back on her chair and smiled.

- “Very sure. So sure, in fact, that I had Lindsey leave a clue for you in your little scrapbook in your house.”

I remember Spencer had told me JJ found an XY written on Diana’s scrapbook, he thought it was related to Mr. Scratch, but clearly, it was part of Cat’s plan as well.

- “I couldn't have you come all the way down here and make a guess until I was positive. That is... Until I tested positive.”- and just like that, Cat rested both her hands on her belly and looked at it with… tenderness?

- “What, you're pregnant?”- Spencer spat those words in disbelief, lost in the way that conversation was going.

- “We're pregnant.”

What the fuck had Cat just said?

- “No.”- Spencer shook his head as Cat just smiled and lifted an imaginary glass to toast.

- “Oh, yes. Mazel tov.”

Spencer’s point of view

What Cat was implying made no sense whatsoever. I knew I hadn’t slept with her, I hadn’t even touched her. There was no way she was pregnant if she had been in solitary confinement, and if she was carrying someone’s baby, it wasn’t mine. We had never slept together.

- “It's not possible.”- I argued right away as I stood up and put my hands in my pocket, turning to stare at Cat’s reactions- “Even if you are pregnant, the baby's not mine.”

- “Except for the part where it is.”- she argued and smiled as if she had just won the argument.

- “That's completely preposterous. You've been in prison!”

I moved back to the table and sat down again. Cat wanted to take my mind off what was important: finding my mother. And to be honest, she found an effective way to do it. Now I couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/N) on the other side of the glass, hearing every single word that we were saying. Of course, Cat knew she was there, and she was enjoying torturing my wife.

- “And?”

- “And we've never…”- before I could say it, Cat interrupted me.

- “I know. We've never…”- she didn’t say it either, she just smiled pleased and demanded- “Ask me how I did it. Come on, ask me.”

- “How did you do it?- at that point, I was annoyed and tired of playing her game.

- “I had Lindsey dose you in Mexico. You lost time.”

How on earth did she know I went to Mexico? And how was I going to explain that to (Y/N)?

- “Mexico?”- the word was a whisper that let Cat know she had hit the jackpot.

- “What? You don’t remember that fun weekend? or… wait… your wife doesn’t know you went to Mexico to get your mother some experimental natural drugs?”

- “How did you know about that trip?”

- “I had eyes on you, Spencey.”- she replied, grinning like a Cheshire cat. - “Lindsey went on that trip along with you and you never noticed. She managed to drug you and that was it. And I gave her very specific instructions to get you in the mood.”

- “What, did she pretend to be you?”- the sarcasm in my voice was clear, and Cat replied the same way.

- “Why? Would that have worked?”

I leaned on that table and kept my eyes on her as I simply answered:

- “No.”

- “Yeah, I know, I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid hot or not list. I told her to pretend to be (Y/N). The love of your life. Who you managed to love in silence for over four years, Spencer. That has to be a fucking record. I bet your balls were blue the entire time. So silly... Yet so useful.”

- “You're lying.”

I knew very well that none of that was true. Cat just wanted to drive my wife crazy. Create doubt, considering the only thing that was real about her speech was my one big mistake: I had gone to Mexico behind my wife’s back.

- “Honey bunny, it's (Y/N). It's ok. Honey, hon... It's ok. Come here. Shh. You want this. It's ok. You want this.”

The words “Honey Bunny” felt tainted after leaving Cat Adam’s lips.

- “It didn't happen.”- I shook my head and tried to remain calm. But none of that mattered to her. She just went along with her lie.

- “Hey, I was thinking, if it's a boy, we should definitely call him Spencie Junior. And if it’s a girl…”- I stood up and stormed out of that room. But Cat just kept talking, and nearly laughing.- “But if it's a girl, I think we should call her (Y/N). I mean, it could be a tribute to your ex-wife, ‘cos after this, I don’t think she is gonna want to see you, ever again!”

- “Chipmunk, let me explain.”- I whispered as I stood in front of my wife. Her eyes were puffy and filled with tears as I tried to hold her hands, but she yanked them away quickly. - “Please, (Y/N). Let me explain. Yes, I went to Mexico behind your back, but none of what she is saying actually happened!”

But my wife didn’t even open her mouth. She just turned around and walked out of the room. I tried to follow her, but J grabbed my arm and gave me a file.

- “Spence, we might have something. Cat is three months. The timeline matches, but that doesn't necessarily mean…”

Of course, Cat wasn’t going to pretend to be pregnant and just leave it at that. No. She was going to ruin my life along the way. I threw the file against the glass and turned around to hit the wall.

- “I'm sorry, it's not you. I just need a minute.”- JJ stared at me in silence and nodded as I made my best effort (probably failing) in keeping my shit together. I looked at Cat on the other side of the glass. It took all the energy and sanity left in me not to open that door, walk in, and kill her. That woman, that psychopath, just wanted to ruin my life. And she was very good at it.

Instead, I walked out and tried to find my wife. I needed to explain and come clean in front of her. Tell her what had really happened. Why I had ended up in Mexico, and how I had never been drugged or whatever Cat had implied.

- “Not now, Spencer.”- (Y/N) whispered when I found her. She was just walking out of the bathroom, trying not to cry. I shook my head and held her hands. They were cold and still wet.

- “She is lying.”- I tried to explain

- “You didn’t go to Mexico then?”- my wife raised an eyebrow as her eyes were glued on me. She wasn’t even trying to read me, she didn’t need to. She knew me that well.

- “I did, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, I just didn’t know how to…”- (Y/N) raised her hand and pointed at me with her index, and I stopped talking right away.

- “Stop it, right there. We’ve known each other for almost twelve years, been married for six. I know this is not the first time you lied to me. But I want you to think very wisely about the next words you’ll say, ‘cos if you try to tell me you felt scared and didn’t want to let me down, or that you didn’t know how to deal with what you were feeling ‘cos you were scared to lose me, I swear, I’m taking all my things, the kids, and you’ll never see me again!”

It wasn’t a threat. It was a fact. I knew my wife enough to understand where that was coming from. We had a history, a past of fears and hidden truths I couldn’t escape from. It wasn’t just my story with Dilaudil when we were just friends or how long it took me to deal with my feelings and tell her I loved her. It was how my fears would constantly make me trip and overthink every single thing I did. It was me getting Dilaudil when they told us Emily had died, and keeping it behind (Y/N)’s back instead of telling her how I actually felt. It was me being constantly afraid of not being enough for her. It was so much to even begin to deal with that day outside a bathroom in a high-security prison in Iowa.

- “I just didn’t know what else to do to help mom.”- I whispered and sighed. It was my truth. At least the majority of it.

- “We are a fucking team, Spencer. Not just for work. For better or worse, at home, you and I are the ones calling the shots and making shit work, together. If we don’t do it together, then we are fucked. And right now, it feels like we are fucked.”- my wife’s eyes were filled with tears as she looked around the hall and shook her head.- “But we have no time for this ‘cos we need to find Diana. So let’s go back to the room and you are gonna keep talking to that psycho until she gives us something that’s not a lie.”

- “I am… so sorry, (Y/N).”- I whispered and held her hands as I did. - “But believe me, I never… she is not pregnant with my baby.”

- “I know.”

I kissed my wife’s forehead and whispered I loved her before I walked back to the interrogation room. Cat was sitting with her arms on the table, looking rather bored.

- “Let's pretend you're telling the truth.”- I said.- “That means I guessed it, right? The secret, the one I don't want to admit to? It's my child?”

- “Is that your guess? You only get one, remember?”- she replied and looked at me, honestly bored. I made a pause, playing the part. I knew now what I had to do to make her trip.

- “No. It's too easy.”- I murmured.

- “Believe me, getting pregnant with your baby was not easy, kudos to your wife for doing it twice.”- Cat stated and I sat in front of her, correcting her.

- “You misunderstand. It's too easy emotionally. Because I can take your child from you. The child I had absolutely no role in creating, but a child that I would care for better than you.”

- “That's rude.”

- “It's true. You can't be a mother, Cat. I'm not trying to insult you.”- those were facts.- “It's your psychological makeup. You literally do not have the emotional skills to care for another human being. You'd lose interest in your own baby the way a 6-year-old loses interest in a pet hamster.”

- “Does that happen to Raven a lot? I know she is not six yet, but it sounds like you know the feeling.”- Cat smiled as she rested her back on the back of the chair and looked at me.- “You are such a good father. I’m happy our baby will have a strong father figure.”

But I choose to ignore her.

- “This baby is simply a means to an end, which is to keep me here playing your game, guessing like a fool, assuming something I never should have assumed in the first place.”

- “And what would that be?”- Cat was honestly intrigued, I could tell by the way she asked immediately about my inference.

- “My mother's already dead. She was dead before I walked in here.”

- “She's not dead.”- her words were filled with anger as if I had just insulted her.

- “Yes, she is.”- I answered as I stood up and walked toward the door.

- “No, because that would be cheating and I don't cheat. You cheat!”- I cheat. Why would she think so? Because of my stunt with her all those years before?

- “I'm done playing.”- I ignored her and continued walking.

- “Get back here!”

- “Goodbye, Cat.”- I opened the door and was about to walk out of that room when I got what I wanted.

- “I'll let you talk to her!”

Bingo.

I looked at my wife from the corner of my eyes and she nodded. I turned around and walked back to Cat. I knew JJ was going to arrange for Garcia to trace that call from my phone. I took it from my pocket, unblocked it, and gave it to Cat. She dialed and put it on speaker, and her eyes were glued to mine the entire time.

- “You're early.”- Lindsay’s voice announced at the other side of the line.

- “Yeah, I know.”

- “Did he guess?”

- “No, not yet. We need proof of life.”- Cat said as she kept staring at me. I was anxious, I needed that call to last enough so Garcia could track it.

- “All right. Hold on.”

- “Spencer!”- I heard my mother’s desperate voice and my heart broke into a million pieces for the hundredth time that day.

- “Mom! Mom! Are you ok?”- I asked as I quickly grabbed the phone from Cat’s hands.

- “I don't... know.”

And before I could ask another question, or mom could tell me how she was, a gunshot interrupted us and I never heard her voice again.

- “Mom!”- I lost it at that minute, I couldn’t keep it together any longer.

- “Gotta go.”- Lindsay announced and ended the call.

- “Mom!”- I yelled and turned to Cat, walking closer to her as JJ and (Y/N) stepped into the room. - “What the hell was that?”

- “I don't know!”- she replied and I could hear JJ behind me, telling me to calm down. But I couldn’t.

- “Lindsey said you were early. Was that a signal?”- no answer, I hit the table and kept looking at Cat, trying to make sense of what had just happened. -“Was that a prearranged signal to kill my mother?! Tell me the truth!”

- “I am!”

- “Tell me the truth!”- I hit the table with my fist again, and Cat just started yelling.

- “I am!! Do you want to know the truth? Your mother is an Alzheimer's-ridden moron who's getting dumber day by day, and if she's dead, it's your fault.”

And that was when I actually lost it. I pushed the table and the chair away from us, grabbed Cat by the shoulder, and pushed her against the wall, as hard as I could as my hands wrapped around her neck, choking her.

- “Spence!”- JJ yelled and tried to stop me.

- “I'm going to kill you.”- the words left my mouth with venom, as an honest threat. I wanted to do it. End her right there, and avenge my mother and my family for all the pain that woman had put them through.

- “Spence!”- JJ grabbed my arm but I continued squeezing.

- “I'm going to kill you!”

- “Spencer, she's pregnant!”- it was (Y/N)’s voice that brought me to reality for a second. She grabbed my shoulders and tried to force me to stop hurting Cat.

- “I'm going to kill you.”- I repeated as a mantra, my eyes stuck on hers, evil filling her look. I was choking her and she was in fact enjoying it.

- “She's pregnant! Stop it! Spencer, please!”- my wife repeated and pushed me harder. My eyes were glued to Cat as I dropped my hands and watched her coughing a few times. My wife and JJ pushed me out of that room before I could finish what I had started.

(Y/N)’s point of view

I had never seen Spencer lose it the way he did that day. Never. It was a side of him that only Cat Adam brought up and I didn’t like it. It wasn’t normal. She was a nemesis. It was toxic, and somehow I was in fact jealous of her. But I couldn’t deal with it at the moment. Calming my husband down, trying to keep a cold head, and bringing Diana back were the only things I had to worry about at the moment. And trust me, it was enough with all that.

He had stormed out and JJ kept telling me we had to go after him.

- “Give him a moment to breathe”- I replied the third time JJ said we should keep an eye on him.

- “Did you see what had happened there? I had never seen Spence acting like that.”

- “His mother might be dead, what did you expect?”- it felt like I had to draw a picture so JJ could see things clearly.

- “Why are you so mad at me? I haven’t done anything to you!”

- “I am not mad at you! I’m just telling you, you have to let Spencer breathe!”

- “We don’t have time, (Y/N)! We have to catch Lindsay!”- JJ’s phone rang and ended our argument. A very hyperventilated Garcia started rambling about an explosion reported in Richmond County, which gave us hope Diana was still alive and well.

- “Thank you, Garcia.”- I whispered before JJ hung up the call.

- “We should let Spencer know this. He is probably sure his mother is dead.”- I sighed and nodded, and JJ nearly sprang out of the room to find my husband.

He was sitting on the floor in one empty cell. It broke my heart to look at him like that. I was mad at him, of course, but I still loved him and I didn’t want him to be so miserable. I knew both his mother’s health and what he had just done to Cat were hunting his head.

- “Richmond County police just reported a gas station explosion. One victim, a male. Whatever Lindsey did, we have to assume your mom's still alive.”

JJ whispered as she sat on the floor next to him. I stood in front of him and locked my eyes on his features. His hair was a mess, he looked exhausted. His head was clearly going a hundred miles per hour. And yet, he looked so sweet and caring. It was hard being mad and worried about him at the same time.

Spencer looked at me and I held my breath for a short second. He wanted to tell me he was sorry and ashamed of what he had done. I knew it. It wasn’t himself at that minute, and to be honest, I couldn’t blame him. Cat Adams brought the worst of him every time they were in the same room. It was toxic.

- “I'm really scared this is who I am now.”- my husband murmured and looked at his hands ‘cos he couldn’t look me in the eyes.

- “No. Don't say that.”- JJ replied and reached for his hand. I just stared at them, not really knowing how to act or even reply to Spencer at the moment.

- “Jennifer, I want to kill her.”

- “But you didn’t.”- JJ caressed his arm and I sighed, kneeling to look him in the eyes, even when he couldn’t look at me as I spoke.

- “Spencer, you can’t blame yourself for losing it with Cat Adams. She knows how to push the right buttons to drive you crazy.”

- “I shouldn’t let her get in my head.”- he replied, still beating himself for his actions.

- “She messed with your family. I understand why you did it.”- Jennifer tried to console my husband, but he didn’t take it.

- “You wouldn't have.”- he said looking at JJ.- “Neither would have you.”- Spencer finally looked at me and despite the fact I was still crazy mad at him, I cut him a short smile and held his hand.

- “I would have if anyone tried to hurt my family and come up with a crazy plan to convince my husband I’m pregnant with some other man’s baby. Trust me. This prison would be on fire right now.”- Spencer tried to smile but his lips barely curled up.

- “What happened doesn't make you a bad person, Spence.”- JJ added- “'Cause you know who does think like that? That... that in you doing what you had to do to survive somehow makes you a psychopath? She does!”

JJ said those words and somehow it all made sense.

- “That's the secret. What I don't want to admit about myself.”- Spencer said as he looked at me. I knew immediately what he meant: that Cat knew there was a dark side of him he didn’t want to deal with. A dark side who was sick and tired of his mother’s disease. A side that wanted to give up, that was too tired to continue trying, and just wanted to quit taking care of her.

A side of him that didn’t even want to try to fix things anymore.

- “And she knows ‘cos Lindsay told her everything happening at our place”- I added, embarrassed, mortified, but yet at the same time, relieved we knew what Cat wanted us to figure out.

- “She must have heard every argument, every little fight…”- Spencer’s eyes were bursting with anger one more time. We just looked at each other for a few seconds, reliving in our heads our worst moments in the last couple of months. It’s sad to admit there hadn’t been a few. And the fact Cat knew about it made them ten times worse.

- “Hold up.”- JJ said, lost in our conversation.- “Let's play this out because she will not lose to you twice. She already said that this wasn't about the two of you being the same.”

Spencer and I stood up, and both of us started pacing across the room as JJ looked at us, trying to make sense of our ramble.

- “She's all about the game. She thinks that I cheated last time because I lied about her dad, so it's integral to her that she beats me by following the rules.”

- “Yeah, but, be honest: she is not gonna let you win this one. She wants to hurt Diana. She’ll make sure she’ll win.”- I added, knowing I was speaking a very painful fact.

- “Which means she needs to make sure I’m at my lowest with you, with my mother. Playing by her rules a game I can't win, so she…”- my husband stared at me and for a second, I could see a hint of hope in his eyes.- “I got it.”

Spencer’s point of view

I stormed back into that room and looked at Cat. She was sitting, playing with my watch, like there weren’t lives at risk as we spoke.

- “Guess that's one way to get you to put your hands on me.”- Cat said and didn’t even look at me.

- “Dance with me.”- I demanded as I stood in front of her. She didn’t pause her movements, but raised her eyes at me, curious by my demand I guess.

- “Why?”

- “Because I don't want the people watching us to hear what I'm going to say next.”- that was enough for her to yield and stand up. I held her right hand and wrapped my arm around her waist as I felt hers on my shoulder. I hated every second, and it only made it worse to know my wife was watching from the other side of the glass. But I needed to get that shitty situation over with.

I knew there were cameras in that interview room, and that Penelope could stream everything that was happening in there to any computer she wanted.

- “You had eyes on me besides Lindsey, didn't you?”- I whispered as we danced to no music, making circles slowly.

- “Spencie, don't ruin the moment.”

- “I don't want to, but I'm on the clock. Answer my question. Am I right?”- Cat had her head on my chest as we danced and moved to lock her eyes with mine to answer.

- “Yes, you're right. I wanted to make sure things were just as uncomfortable for you at home as they were for me inside this hole.”

So someone else was helping her. Someone who probably had connections at the bureau and could tell her all the details of our life to a serial killer in jail. If it was a guy, he was the one who got her pregnant, that was for sure.

- “That's how you timed everything so perfectly. Like kidnapping my mom the weekend we were out of town and my relationship with my wife was in a rough spot.”- I murmured and we continued dancing. Cat moved her arms and wrapped them both around my neck as she stared at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

- “Rough spot? Aren’t you going easy on that description? You were hating your wife, your mom, and your life.”

- “No, I wasn't.”- I replied staring right into her eyes.

- “Please Spencie, she can’t hear you. Just face it.”- I sighed, pretending to struggle to find the right words. That was what Cat wanted. She wanted me to face the fact I was a bad husband, a bad son. A bad father. Just like hers.

- “Look, you are the last person on earth I want to discuss my marital issues with. But if you must know, things aren’t always easy, and sometimes you…”- I paused as she stared at me in silence.- “Well, sometimes you just wanna leave.”

- “Well, look at that. You might end up saving your mother's life after all.”

We continued dancing in silence for a moment. My mind kept going a hundred miles per hour, keeping my facade in front of her, and trying to be two steps ahead of her.

- “They won't get there in time.”- Cat said suddenly, letting me go. - “They must be on their way, right? Your team is too good to wait around, but, you know me. I always have a contingency plan. So, they're walking into a trap.”

My heart stopped as she spoke. I hated her so much it was taking everything in me not to kill her.

- “And the only way out is if you give me your phone and your guess, right now.”- she added, as she played with my necktie. I reached for my phone and gave it to her. She grabbed it quickly and sat down on the chair. All I could think of at the moment was about all the pictures of my babies I had in there that I didn’t want her to see.

- “When we first sat down, you said you were going to show me what kind of man I am. And you have.”- I said as I sat on the table in front of her and watched her dial a number.

- “Every time I touch this, you're getting warmer.”- she replied and bit her lower lip. I hoped Penelope was ready to stream that conversation.

- “At first I was furious because the secret had to be the baby inside you. How could it be anything else? But then I realized that somehow, you knew how I felt about my mother and my marriage.”- I confessed, and she smiled.

- “So which is it, Spence? Come on. Don't fumble it now. You're at the one-yard line.”

- “You're not pregnant with my child.”- I said and leaned closer to her.- “You got pregnant with Wilkins to put me in as compromised a position as possible. But it should be mine.”- I paused for a second, ‘cos I knew what I was about to say was going to hurt my wife, and I didn’t want her to listen.- “I wish it were mine. Because you and I... We deserve each other. That is the real secret.”

Cat Adams stared at me with tears in her eyes as she held my phone tight between her fingers for a few seconds, until she finally dialed.

- “Kill her”- I froze but tried my best not to show. That was what I knew Cat would say, but apparently nothing happened at the other side of the line, ‘cos she stood up and repeated her command- “Lindsey, I said…”

- “You bitch. You're pregnant?”- I overheard and Cat turned around with fire in her eyes and looked at the security camera on the wall.

- “Lindsey, sweetheart, it's complicated, ok?”

There was a long silence, all I could hear was my heart beating on my throat. Until the door opened and JJ stormed in.

- “We're clear.”- I took my phone from Cat’s hand immediately and turned to Jennifer.

- “Is my mom ok?”

- “Yeah. She's fine.”- she replied and I felt my whole life returning to my body. (Y/N) was standing behind JJ, tears rolling down her cheeks. I wanted to run and hold her, but Cat’s words stopped me from moving.

- “We do deserve each other, by the way. You guessed right.”- she sat down and pretended to be unbothered by losing her game.

- “You lied, by the way. You were going to kill my mother regardless.”

- “Yeah, I think you are actually sorry I didn’t kill your mom. I wanted to do you a favor, you know. And all those arguments with your wife, that’s gonna leave a nasty scar in your perfect marriage. You have thought about leaving this behind, and once you cross that line, you can't ever go back.”

I walked to her in a quick move and handcuffed her to the chair. I kept my eyes on her the entire time and before I left, I simply whispered:

- “Watch me.”

But Cat was right about one thing though: my idea of leaving the BAU behind was stronger than ever. She thought I wanted to leave my family. But in reality, I was planning to leave my job.

I walked out of that interview room and rushed to hold my wife tight. I knew we were at our lowest. I knew things were tough. But there was nothing I wouldn’t do to fix it. To show her I was the man she wanted me to be. I needed to prove to her I loved her more than anything.

- “Let’s go to the jet.”- JJ whispered and rubbed my back.- “We shouldn’t be here when they take her back to her cell.”

But my arms were wrapped tight around my wife and I didn’t want to let her go. She took a deep breath and moved her hands from around my neck to my side.

- “I can’t do this without you.”- I whispered, and though it was a statement, it sounded like a plea. I didn’t want her to lose her faith in me after what had just happened. I knew we had to talk and fix things, but it was a fact: I was never going to do anything right in life if she wasn’t by my side. No doubt.

- “You won’t have to.”- my wife replied and held my hand.- “Let’s go get your mom.”

The jet flight felt eternal. We called (Y/N)’s parents to tell them my mother was safe. The kids were already asleep so we couldn’t see them. It just made the trip feel longer. I needed to make sure my whole family was safe, hold them close to me, kiss their cheeks, and tell them I loved them.

Of course, I couldn’t talk to my wife about the trip to Mexico and how to fix our problems. I knew she was still mad at me, but I also knew we were going to fix things between us because we loved each other. Marriage isn’t easy, not even when you are crazy in love. Love is not enough, who would have thought? You need a lot more than just love to make it work. Luckily, we wanted to make it work.

I held (Y/N) close to me the entire flight. My arms were around her waist, my hands held hers and when I stood up to get us some tea, my eyes never left her for longer than 30 seconds.

- “She is going to forgive you for lying.”- JJ whispered when she stood next to me- “You did it to protect her.”

- “I think I did it ‘cos I was embarrassed.”

- “Of what?”

- “Not being able to deal with everything.”

- “No one can.”- JJ rubbed my arm a few times, trying to be comforting.

- “I thought I could.”- I confessed and turned to look at my wife, who was wrapped in a blanket looking at the night outside the window. - “Now I know I just need her by my side to deal with life.”

When we got to the BAU, at three in the morning, the entire team was waiting for us with my mom outside the elevator. I held her tight and broke into tears. She asked me to never leave her again and my heart broke at those words. I loved my mom. No matter how bad things were, she was the only person who took care of me growing up. I couldn’t leave her. I was the man I was because of her effort and work.

We drove to Sofia’s house ‘cos (Y/N) didn’t want to go to our apartment yet. It felt like a crime scene after what had happened, and it was the last push I needed to finally start looking for a house to buy.

My mom and wife fell asleep as soon as they rested their heads on a pillow, but I wasn’t as lucky. I kissed (Y/N)’s forehead and looked at her sleeping as I held Vincent in my arms. He was drooling, looking adorable. Raven was hugging her mother as she dreamed, and my whole world felt at peace, finally. They were safe.

Derek Morgan knocked on the door at five am, holding donuts and coffee. I had barely slept an hour, but I needed to talk to him more than I needed to rest. Sofia woke me up, saying someone was looking for me, and of course, the first thing on my mind was that an unsub was going to try to hurt my mom or the kids.

I was shocked when I saw Morgan there, with a short smile, donuts and coffee in hand.

- “I got the feeling you need a good talk right now.”- I didn’t reply, I just hugged him and broke into tears. Morgan tapped on my back a few times.

- “I’m here kid. Tell me everything.”

It only took Morgan half an hour to understand everything that had happened in the latest months. How living with my mom had been a noble gesture, but a critical mistake for our family. How I had messed up everything by taking one trip to Mexico to get experimental homeopathic drugs to give my mother. How for the first time, me and my wife had fight after fight, knowing it was all due to exhaustion and not because we didn’t love each other.

- “You know kid, marriage is work. No matter how much you love each other. You have to remember that.”- my friend tapped on my back as we sat on Sofia’s front steps, eating donuts and drinking coffee.

- “I know. I just… never imagined we would be like this. I love her so much it hurts, I can’t picture my life without her. I would kill for her… but I also have to do the dishes.”

- “Yes, and you have to do the fucking dishes, man..”- Morgan chuckled and finished his coffee.- “Now, don’t be a stranger, Reid. I miss you”

- “Me too. A lot.”

- “I’m a phone call away. Maybe you and your pretty girl could come over with the kids for a weekend. I’m sure you two need to get out of town as soon as you find a new facility for your mother.”

- “We do, we definitely do.”

- “Then it’s settled. You are all coming to visit and you’ll get away from all this…”- Morgan made a pause, trying to find the right words to define our job.

- “Murder?”

- “I was going for chaos, but that works just fine.”- I chuckled and we both stood up.- “Now, kid, I have to go. My wife and baby boy are waiting for me back home.”

- “Thank you for your visit. It really means… the world to me.”

- “You are my kid brother, forever. I will always be there for you. Never forget that, ok?”- Morgan hugged me and I just nodded, a knot in my throat made it impossible for me to speak.

- “And take care of that pretty girl of yours. She is a force to be reckoned with, and she loves you more than anyone I have ever met.”- I nodded and felt Morgan tapping on my back one more time before he walked away.

I wanted to spend the day with my wife, our kids, and my mother, after the hell we had been through. But as soon as I stepped into the house, I found (Y/N) rushing down the stairs, holding her phone as tears fell down her eyes.

- “Scratch has Emily.”

I surely didn’t see that coming.

- “And Stephen is dead.” 

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

Next chapter

[maxdibert]

It may be improper of me to speculate on someone’s intellect, but all the hatred directed at Severus by snaters/mstans is bizarre to me. In a world consumed by violence, it’s illogical to look at this character’s situation so superficially and spout nonsense like, “Being poor, bullied, or other hardships aren’t excuses to join ‘racists’ or ‘the equivalent of Nazis.’” This completely ignores tangible examples of what such environments can do to a person. How many stories are there about literal children bringing weapons to school as an attempt to retaliate against their bullies? How many news articles talk about children joining gangs or adults who, for various reasons, ended up involved in criminal organizations? This kind of thing isn’t hard to find—it’s all around us.

Many people who join criminal groups are vulnerable individuals, often from low-income backgrounds, with no adequate support system. These people are easily manipulated by the smallest crumbs of respect, affection, or acceptance. Vulnerable individuals will cling to anything that offers them a shred of security, no matter how questionable or malicious it may seem to others.

Is Severus responsible for his own choices? Of course, and he knows that himself. But expecting a child who never had proper support, never had the chance to grow and heal, and clung to the one stable thread in his life to turn away from it in favor of people who treated him worse than garbage—who tormented him simply for existing and ignored or silenced his suffering—is so detached from reality that it’s absurd.

You can hate Severus—I’m not arguing or imposing otherwise. Everyone has their preferences, and that’s fine. But it’s arrogant to expect someone who has only ever known violence and neglect to live up to some idealistic and egocentric notion of what is “good” or “evil.”

Is he perfect? No. Is he likable? No. But none of his flaws justify dismissing the suffering and trauma that shaped him. I guess an unrealistically “clean” victim, free of emotional scars, would suit this fandom better. But who am I to say anything, right?

This turned out a bit longer than I intended—sorry.

Honestly, I have nothing more to add because I completely agree, and this is something I’ve repeated a thousand times to the point that I’m starting to feel like a broken record: the idea that Severus had a "difficult" past isn’t meant to make people feel sorry for him, forgive him, or see him as some poor uwu. When we talk about the importance of his past, it’s because understanding his decisions requires us to comprehend his context and the way it significantly influenced those decisions.

People need to take a moment to think, step outside their bubble of privilege, and really reflect on what options a poor boy with no social resources or familial support could have had in an environment where he was marginalised by the "good guys" and where only the "bad guys" gave him a social space and some recognition, despite his blood status and social standing. Consider how that space and recognition were the only escape routes he had from poverty and violence and how that played a fundamental role in his decision-making.

Severus didn’t have the luxury of choice. He couldn’t refuse to align himself with his housemates because outside that house, he was faced with a group of bullies making his life miserable. And he couldn’t return to where he came from because that was a place of sheer poverty and more violence. He had no alternatives. Whatever he chose, it was going to turn out badly for him. So, he made the decision that seemed the least problematic at the time.

And that decision doesn’t need to be "less problematic" from an ethical perspective—it’s about stepping into his shoes, not viewing things from the comfortable position of a morally superior spectator at home who can judge without pausing to think and consider the situation as more than just black and white.

[keferon]

Isn’t Vortex a fucking torture freak tho? 👀👀👀

Yep. He is. He is a lot of things actually. The more you learn about him the more fucked up it gets

[mohntilyet]

illario as the grandchild that is most like caterina is something i'm loving to chew on. the grandson that took her lessons to heart the most. kill anyone who sees your face and knows your name, "we are not revolutionaries", the first out of the two to prioritise the contract. power at any cost, and the only one to lean into the unnecessary abuse that their grandmother told them was tradition. why is anyone surprised he allied with the venatori? and then there's illario's considerable skill in infiltration and manipulating any mark, he has always had the charisma that lucanis lacked. illario isn't attached, he has/can/will use someone and immediately drop them; "that does free me from promises i don't intend to keep". he can lie about how much he cares so well that he fools a magister into believing he loves her. he kills zara without hesitation to cover his own tracks, meanwhile lucanis blindly promises a young girl in the middle of a siege that he will help her find her father. even the lessons about family stick with him, and in this entire messy power struggle, he never actually orders anyone to directly kill caterina or lucanis, not until he's backed into a corner.

and even after all that. despite even lucanis believing illario should be first talon, lucanis is still the better killer. illario is not strong enough to be the brutal assassin caterina needs him to be. so when lucanis seems to fill the role his mother left, grief and love for her dead heir apparent remains, and any of the other qualities caterina needs in her next talon doesn't matter. whatever his mother was, lucanis has to be. what illario does doesn't matter, because he will always be second best to caterina's memory of her favored daughter.

[fix-me-sixteen]

this country is a fucking embarrassment

[wistfulwatcher]

emily prentiss + her waning tolerance of getting close to killers

[idolomantises]

I always feel like the worst kind of character redemptions (other than redemptions where a character immediately redeems themselves after one conversation) are ones where the villain is betrayed and so they switch sides, and it's treated like they've become a better person.

[fangirls-just-want-to-have-fun]

me at the end of episode 5 of agatha all along: