Weird and wavy𓇼 ༄.°

He pulled back, both hands perching on your shoulders to keep you there. ‘Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?’ A dozen curses, both in his native tongue and English. A habit of his acquired from work with foreign officials and coalition forces; the worst, most pressing situations could not be contained to a single language.

 ‘Oh to hell with it, ¡Me lleva la tostada!’

You almost slipping through his fingers and exposing yourself to danger was deserving of both.

‘I just wanted to-‘ he cut you off in an all too fitting fashion, your own words and desires second to his peace. He shook his head, a hand coming to cup the curve of the ass cheek where he’d spanked you. Regret knitting his brows at the result of his more impulsive response. A circle was rubbed onto the surface, and a dull ache in its place meant a bruise was likely to form; something akin to an embarrassing little souvenir of your poorly executed escape plan. 

‘You terrified me…’ a guilty verdict- to worry Alejandro, to take away any of the control he’d so perfectly manicured was to dance with a force like no other. ‘Did I not treat you well? Did I not love you enough?’

Projection, he longed for you to say yes so he could shoulder the blame and grow even more desperate in his ways; nothing would incite him more than an excuse to show just how much he loved you.

A lump worked its way into your throat, desperation quavering your lips as you tried to reason with him. ‘I just missed home…’ he remained silent. You wished you could chalk it up to contemplation, to a bout of realisation and a promise to change. But alas, the stony disposition that washed over his face vanquished any hope of such rationalities.

‘Give it to me,’ he commanded, confusing further weighing down your features.

‘W..what?’ Before you could even make sense of it his hand fished out the primitive phone in your back pocket. A flood of regret left you mentally soggy and weighed down in place. You’d worked so hard to be trusted with that phone and had come to revere it in the way one might a lifeline. Though supervised and restricted, it at least let you speak to family. How foolish you were to let your fondness for it override the basic knowledge that it provided a means of beaconing your exact location at all times. He dropped it to the earth, letting his boot divide it in three heavy footfalls. 

You swallowed, letting only your lip wobble as the device crumbled before you into a small shatter of battery and bits. Alejandro’s eyes softened, the deep brown within them melting ever so slightly enough to produce a glint of sympathy but it did not bleed anywhere else into his disposition. His arm drew you close, and the icy touches of the outside world were singed away by his burning embrace. It was warm, and in that moment, familiar. You no longer entertained the idea of running, no longer humoured the foolish fantasy that freedom would serve you.

‘Let’s go home… and stay there,’ he said, turning you with a force that was not born from malice, but an even eerier determination. 

Home. Hogar. 

The second you’re his romantically, you unknowingly agree to a set of conditions that he enforces with an iron fist. He’s deceptive, wearing a silk glove of affection and condescension. A soft smile and boyish quip in his every word make up for a tainting fear of loosing you before he even has you. You’re assured this is a consequence of love, that anything less would be inadequacy- he thinks you’re perfect, and can’t afford to be anything but.

You begin to wonder and forget how it was ever without him, without his guiding words and assurances that soon turn to demands and rigid rules. It’s simple apparently, you’re his whole world, can’t he be yours too? It’ll all be better this way, just trust him. Give him that he can keep you safe, give him just that or he may just fall apart.

A part of him know this is wrong, knows it’s born from fear and from trying to prove to himself that he can be what you deserve, even if it means being your undoing.

He’s a master of making it seem so natural too. It seems so loving and condescendingly kind despite the forceful edge to it. Should you dare question it, or raise what may seem like justified concern, he’s quick to brandish the side of him that paints such disdain as insanity.

‘I’m just tryna’ look out for you babe, does that make me a villain?’

It can’t be so. Your stomach knots at the very suggestion despite your life being pulled apart at the seams and restitched by his hands into something tight and restricting. Villains are the things that go bump in the night, the things he worked against both far away and at home. Your Kyle, your ‘Gaz’ or whatever other nickname you may have for him couldn’t possibly be what you fear. 

And he isn’t. He’s your partner, your future husband. He’s set in stone, he’s gonna be there no matter what. You’d be wise to give in, to grant him that same security back. Lest you see just how far he’s willing to go to maintain that status quo.

NSFW

Kyle can give you whatever you need, he’s always told you that. It gives you a false sense of agency, a glass and ornamental feeling of control he can so easily shatter if needed.

Because of this, he finds it almost invigorating to see you nervously try to take over. He’ll lay back, a cocky expression on his face as you try your damned hardest for a lick of power in your most raw and desperate moments.

‘Make me work for it…’

You’re expected to have comms attached 24/7 and he expects you to behave and answer immediately. Frequent check ins and under no circumstances do you engage or interact with the RDA without him. You’ll be kept away from most of the fighting and he’ll do what he can to shield you from any and all other threats on the planet.

He has a small circle (most likely Norm’s team and a few omatikaya) he trusts to keep tabs on you and they monitor and report back your every move with equal dedication. Where you went, who you spoke to in his absence and any favourite little hiding spots you have.

Jake once humoured a heroic image, vowed never to use his position as toruk makto for anything beyond uniting the clans and protecting pandora. Though should you stray, defy him, or should anyone else ever get their hands on you? He’s not above utilising  his connections to remind you of just how committed he is to preventing you from leaving. 

‘Just trust me, let me show you how much better it is when you’re mine,’ his words are far from lies. When you give in, when you play along, he’s doting and soft. His world revolves around you and he’s eager to prove it. 

There’s no where you can run to, not a single clan that’ll offer you uturu, not one place  you can hide that we won’t follow you. The self destructive side of his love is constant fear which means he’s always assuming the worst and always prying. If only for the sake of preventing more often than not will intimidate you into revealing any plans you have before you even attempt them. Honesty, however, does not spare you from punishment.

His heart still beats to the tempo of a marine and with that comes a certain desensitisation to getting his hands dirty for the perceived greater good. Jake earnestly believes grit is all it takes to ensure you’re his, and he’ll fight to the end for it. 

NSFW

After a long day he loves nothing more than to come home and take you as his. It assuring- there’s no where else he’d rather have you than in his arms or beneath him. Slow and tender, drawing out the moment as long as possible. Jake wants you desperate, wants you to need him in the moment as much as he needs you all the time.

‘That’s it baby…’ He’s heavy on the praise, often rambling and vocalising every thought that enters his mind in a stream of consciousness. He’s also retained his foul mouth, half of the planet have probably heard him when he’s in the heat of it 

If you’re out in public Jake always keeps a hand on you somewhere out of habit. It’s a trait that extends to times of intimacy, his touches sometimes so vigorous they bruise. For this reason, he’s a sucker for body paint. Seeing where he’s held you, seeing where he’s grabbed and claimed you inspires him for round two. 

You swallowed, eyeing a small box resting not too far away on the counter. A hand nervously reached out and picked it up, the black velvet of its surface soft to the touch as your digit traced it. In doing so, you involuntarily prompted the little case to flip open. Within it, a heart pendant, simple in design but extravagant in the way its surface glittered. It sat in the dark, only the dim glow of a street lamp peeking through the window offering a ration of light.

And yet, it stood out like nothing else in this world; the icy stones on it casting a prism that stung if you stared too long, but it was the outstanding nature of it that demanded an unwavering gaze. You were almost hesitant to touch it, though your hands took the risk on their own. Behind the encrusted surface lay a dainty chain and a single, telling engraving.

 A solo letter, plain and resolute etched on the back in a silent, indisputable claim: ‘S’.  

It would’ve been romantic, astounding even, if an inconvenient and eerie reality was not lurking in recent past. 

You’d been single for a month, leaving your old home and the clutches of a certain lieutenant to what you hoped would be only memory.

‘Ya like it?’ A distinctive pitch, one that rumbled with every word in a way that made it impossible to pinpoint where it came from. As if sensing your difficulty, he sounded again, a single heavy footstep accompanying his voice. ‘I said…’ two more footsteps, then the slightest, most retrained impact of a body against your back was felt. An exhalation dusted your shoulder, the meekest hint of a smirk evident in the heightened pitch at its tail end. ‘Do ya like it?’ 

Your body went stiff, the ticking of the clock ringing out loudly against the silence. Your mind wandered to the handbag you’d discarded on the sideboard, knowing your mobile phone rested inside it underneath a catastrophe of daily items. You took a moment to rue your own disorganisation, then another to try and beseech your own legs to move. 

‘Don’ even think abou’ it….’ He hummed, the warmth of his breath sending contrastingly frosty tingles down your neck. Your heart raced, but your legs remained dead still, as though aware a retreat was aimless in his company. Rough knuckles danced down your cheek, using the momentum of a gentle touch to turn you and reveal the man you’d tried to flee once again holding you. You never suspected anything less, his voice and presence unmistakable as the daggers in your shock strained veins and the coil in your throat. 

‘I’ll ask one las’ time love…’ pallid eyes bore into your own, dark circles suspended beneath them. ‘Do you like yer’ gifts?’ 

‘I…’ you stumbled over your words, torn between the affirmation he craved and some form of rebellion if only for your own ego. ‘Why?’ The word slipped forth, pain, frustration and sorrow dampening it to a near whimper. You knew the purpose of his visit, but prayed for some kind of miracle that would suggest otherwise. 

‘It’s Valentines…’ he murmured, evidently choosing to misinterpret your query, ‘an’ you’re my girl.’ The black of his jacket and neck gaiter blending with the emptiness of your dingy, empty apartment. Your haste to leave and start fresh hadn’t afforded much time for fineries like proper furniture or decor. It also hadn’t given much energy to thoughts of so called love and the cupidity the day asked for, you’d hardly considered the date. Time only passed in minutes and hours of fickle freedom; of time spent away from him.

Simon thought he loved you, but as your departure has tried to teach him, it was possession that honeyed his words and made his kisses grow deeper. There were no promises of a future, merely demands. He would never be content loving you; his damaged heart would only ever be satisfied if it owned you completely. 

‘What is it they say?’ He pondered aloud, plucking the necklace from its place and holding it up. Both your lines of sight landed on it, taking in the glow before he began to collar your neck with it, the cool of silver against a body flushed with anxiety noticeable.

‘Diamonds are for’ever or something…’ he couldn’t hide his amusement with the cliche, ‘a whether you like it or no’t darlin…’ with a click the pendant fell in place. It was like an ornate domino, a dainty accessory to signal that you were right back at square one.

Money, threats or something even more dire… whatever it takes, he’s quick to make sure your past is silenced or, if needed, erased completely. He’s not satisfied until the version of you that lived without him is reduced to an almost alien, forgotten memory. He keeps trinkets from your past as a bargaining chip for good behaviour; comfort items to play into your misguided insistence that you were better off without him.

Despite his callous behaviour in all other areas, he is far from unkind to you once you’ve properly settled. He can keep you contained, strip you of all agency and torment and deprive of you of all that is familiar until you bend to him, but he knows he cannot win you over that way. He’s not so unwise to assume you’ll love him back through brute force. 

‘You can choose to stand beside me, or I will make you kneel before me. Either way.. you’ll be mine’  Vladimir craves a compliant companion he can hold as a constant and measure of success. In truth, you’re more akin a pet than a partner. All your needs will be met, you’re spoilt and treated with caring but all encompassing control. You have little freedom in the real world, but you’re given an entirely new one at his behest.

You’ll be well groomed; designer clothes that flatter you to his taste and anything to ensure you always look the part even if you don’t feel it. Gourmet food to keep you healthy and satisfied and round the clock security to keep you safe and contained. You’ll have no contact with the outside unless he allows it.

If you don’t ever manage to return his twisted but earnest love, he’s disdainful but adamant you’ll eventually grant yourself acceptance. You’ll learn his power is all encompassing and stains everything it touches, so resistance does little but deprive you of your destiny.

NSFW

For him, sex is a means of de stressing and reminding himself (and you) of the power he holds. He’ll take you anywhere and everywhere he sees fit; in the back of a car after a mission, in the walls of one of his many safe houses, in a helicopter… perhaps one day he hopes, within the confines of the kremlin. 

If you’re capable of bearing an heir, that’ll be your duty. Though the reasoning behind it is methodical and calculated, there’s something primal and indulgent about the way he brings it to fruition. He speaks of the future you’re carving between each thrust, and promises an even more gilded future when you’re raising his legacy.

‘I do this for your sake, you’ll understand eventually’ truthfully, he doesn’t care if you never come to terms with his ways. It doesn’t change how eager he is to enforce them.

You’re his purpose, the one thing he counts on to instil hope; let him be selfish, just this once. Let him keep tabs on you. Let him show up at your front door every night until you’re so worn you let him in without question (at least, until you at last move in with him.) Let him choose what’s best for you before things get messy. 

If you resist, he’s not above concocting scenarios where you’re shown just how dangerous the world is and how deeply you need him. That solo trip out you begged him for? Ends in tears when you encounter some less than savoury individuals that attempt to rob or harass you. You’re unharmed physically, and blissfully unaware said miscreants are working on his dime, paid actors of a sort to fulfil some script that affirms what once seemed like irrational concerns. 

He’ll be there to dry your tears and take you in his arms, brandishing his presence as the solution to every problem and fear both real and seemingly imaginary. 

He’s earnestly convinced he can atone for every loss or moment of pain he’s ever felt if he takes you wholly and completely as his. To the small select group of outsiders he trusts with knowing of your existence, it sounds and appears as though he’s happily married and living with his long term partner. 

He paints a vague albeit organic picture of meeting you, of a romantic pursuit and quaint date nights, omitting the truth and garnishing the obsessiveness of his ways with a smokescreen of soft words. 

He can’t be a hero everywhere, can’t save everyone. Alejandro can’t control many things, but he can, if only you’d let him, carve a future for you both. The colonel uses you to steal himself a small piece of paradise in a world that once had him feel as though such feelings were unattainable. 

NSFW

Your needs take priority, and it’s guaranteed you’ll finish every time. He genuinely enjoys pleasing you, it feels like an extension of the duty he feels toward you; so much so, that you’re no stranger to overstimulation. 

Alas, his motivations are not inherently selfless. He sees intimacy as a testing ground for how far he can push his control. 

‘Easy… you know I’ve got you…’ with eerie satisfaction, he’ll take you further and further each time. Savouring your every expression and eventual reduction to an exhausted, flushed husk as a signal of acceptance.

He doesn’t like using anything sexual as punishment, but will be quick to use it as compensation. He dilutes any feelings of anger you have or disregards harsh or frustrated words you may toss at him with passionate touches and much much more.