#but i liked how it sound in first person so i kept it that way

[chrissfawn]

— WHEELS ON

THE BUS . 𓂃 ㅤ۫ ㅤ⊹

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︴﹒ warnings ; smut (obvii), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up buddy), pet names (baby and angel), highschool au (characters are 18+), first person pov, y/n is used like once, degradation if you squint, lowercase intended, public sex, and praise

︴﹒ summary ; theres a field trip and theres not that much space on the bus so reader sits on chris’ lap and it leads to smth (i HATE doing summarys)

︴﹒ paring ; switch!chris x switch!reader

︴﹒ haven’s notes ; IM BACK!! sorry for not writing in a while i have been busy w school 😞😞 also are u guys interested for a part 2 for make it up?? i might scrap it but idkk 🙁 also this was based on a request

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ˋ☆ — i was waiting in line to get onto the bus for the end of year senior field trip. as sad i was for this to be my last field trip ever, i was excited to go to disney to be my last one. i got on the bus, seeing how there wasn’t that much room.

my eyes darted towards an open seat in the back. with a small sigh of relief, i made my way to it. i sat next to chris that i was somewhat friends with. “hi.” i speak softly. “oh hey, you excited?” he asked me, flashing me a smile.

“yeah! i haven’t been to disney in a long time, how about you?” i reply with a small smile in return. “eh, sort of. im not that much of a disney person, i really like universal more.” the brunette boy told me. my eyebrows raised slightly. i hum softly in reply before my eyes looked around the bus. it was incredibly crowded and to make it worse, a teacher came up to us.

“is it alright if you can move so i can place this box there?” the blonde curly haired lady asked me while holding a box filled with lunchboxes. i bit the inside of my bottom lip. “oh? uhh i don’t know where else to sit.” i say, my fingers starting to fidget with the lace on the hem of my shirt. “you could sit on my lap.” chris suggested nonchalantly. my face turned to face his, “you sure?” i said with a slight tint of worry in my voice.

“yeah i dont mind.” he said. after we got the approval from the teacher, i crawled onto chris’ lap. my back pressed against his chest comfortably and i placed my draw string bag on top of all the lunchboxes. “let me know if ya’ get uncomfortable.” chris reminded me as he awkwardly placed his hands in my lap. i nod, blushing a little bit when he placed his hands on my lap.

the bus started moving after a little bit, and as time passed i was getting bored. i turned towards my bag and grabbed my headphones and my phone so i could listen to music. just as i put one of the airpods in, the bus drove on a speed bump, making me bounce a little bit on chris’ lap. i heard his breath hitch a little bit, making me ask him if he was okay. “‘m okay.” he said, his hands starting to play around with my thighs that were being barely covered from my jean skirt.

as i sort of expected, i felt chris get hard underneath me. he started to ramble to me about what i would be doing this summer, trying to get me to not notice his boner that was rubbing against me. “chris its not working.” i giggle quietly as i place my phone and airpods back into my bag. “whats not working?” he asks me quickly, his words laced with anxiety.

“i can feel your dick.” i laugh again, turning around a bit so i could see his face. chris let out a small defeated sigh, earning a small smile from me. “im sorry, its a instinct.” he said quietly with a little embarrassed smirk. i shook my head, “dont worry chris.” i say, rocking myself onto his hardon. i smiled a little bit as i felt his hands quickly grip onto my hips.

“y-y/n.” chris stuttered as he leaned his head back slightly. i whined out quietly, thankful that the bus was loud enough to cover it up. i kept grinding against him, getting wetter and wetter to the sounds that he was making into my ear. “fuck.” he whimpered, leaning his chin on my bare shoulder. my eyes fluttered shut slowly as i teased chris a little bit by slowing my pace until it came to a halt. “why did you stop?” he pouted.

i looked to the side where i thought there would be other students sitting but instead it was just other boxes. “good.” i whispered under my breath as i sat up a bit. i guess this was a hint for chris to unzip his pants. as he did so, he also pulled his boxers down to his upper thigh. i lowered my ass down while my fingers pulled my white lacey panties to the side.

i shuddered when i felt the burning sensation of him stretching me out as i sunk down his cock. his hands found my hips again and he gripped onto them, guiding me as i rode him. my hands rested on top of my thighs, gripping onto my jean skirt. “your taking me so well angel.” chris breathed into my ear, sending me shivers down my spine. “shitt.” i dragged out quietly as my mouth fell agape from pleasure. my hips swayed against his a bit quicker now, earning whines from him.

“shh, don’t want anyone to hear you baby.” i say, turning around to look at him slightly. he nodded slowly, making me go back to doing my thing. i smiled when i noticed how grabby chris was getting. his hands grabbed and touched anything he could. “can’t believe your riding me in the back of the bus like a slut.” the boy with brunette loose curls laughed dryly. i turn to face him again and looked at him with doe eyes.

“well you were the one who suggested for me to sit on your lap in the first place, sturniolo.” i state, my voice a little bit unbalanced since the head of his cock hitting my sweet spot perfectly. after i turned my head back, chris grabbed onto the back of my skirt. my back arched off of his chest as i just let him thrust up into me. “f-fuck im gon— ahh, im gonna cum.” i breath, biting my bottom lip to prevent myself from making any loud sounds.

“cum with me baby.” chris whined into my ear while wrapping his arms around my waist just so he can hold me still to thrust into me. i let my bottom lip bounce back and my mouth fall agape. soon enough, i came all over his cock. i threw my head back on his shoulder with his chin on my shoulder.

i then felt him fill me up with his seed, making me whine a little bit. the brunette kissed my temple softly before he spoke. “you okay?” he asked. i nodded, my hand reaching up to my hair and tucking a small strand behind my ear. “yeah, i have uhm.. tissues in my bag.” i say while reaching over to the pink bag and grabbed a few tissues from inside so we could clean up.

after we did so, i managed to squeeze between chris and the box filled with lunchboxes. i looked up at the blue-eyed boy and smiled. “we’re at disney.” he said. “happily ever after then.” i joked with a giggle.

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︴﹒ haven’s notes pt2 ; hope u guys liekd this :3 im gonna write more after this week i promise yalll

︴﹒ taglist ; @mxqdii @espressomads @luverboychris @sturniol0s @mattsluttywaist

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chrissfawn #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #i need him #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x fem!reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplet fanfic

[dcxdpdabbles]

Am going feral for Danny's grill, I'm salivating for another part, perhaps the batfams reactions to Tim's theory of Danny being fae and just "ohh oh that tracks, that tracks a little too well, but atleast he's a nice fae? Also I vainly remember Constantine drunkenly complaining about a pariah being a bitch king so maybe Danny is actually fae royalty which is why he can afford to be nice??"

Sry for rambling ♡

Tim's investigation updates are alarming, to put it nicely. Bruce can't say he's thrilled by how his son discovered a new Fae court or that his son is now untraceable within the said court.

He would think Tim was missing if it weren't for the reports he finds at family information locations. Thankfully, the fae seemed benevolent—at least for now.

Bruce would be the first to admit that he did not like how, out of all his kids, Tim always seemed to get involved with the oddest of missions.

Reading the Young Justice reports always gave him a headache- baseball game for the plant? Accidentally killed Santa Claus?!? - So, he not only figured out a Fae had appeared in Gotham but also ate the food the Fae offered him? Yeah, that was his Tim.

Bruce had picked up Tim's progress reports before anyone else. His other children were focused on a missing person case and their own cases.

Bruce figured that as long as Tim was treated right, he could spend time searching for a way to get his son home safely without worrying about the others. He has spoken with every member of the Justice League Dark, interviewed any god or goodness in the Justice League, and done extensive research on Faes themselves.

Almost everything had given him the same result: A human could be returned from the Other World only if the Fae allowed it.

It's not impossible to trick a Fae into releasing Tim, but it must be delicately done. Those types of beings rarely forgive and never forget.

He had planned for this to happen to him long before he became Batman—after all, he knew those creatures were real after learning of Aliens—but each of his plans to escape the Fae had an "It's alright if I die" in progress.

He could not apply those plans to Tim, as he did not care if his son lived.

He was replaying his interview with John Consitiante- seeing as that man had a lot of practice swinging his soul as a bargaining chip- when Jason came stomping down the stairs.

"I can't find him!" He swears, throwing himself in a computer chair with a huff. Bruce lowers the volume on his computer, making a sound in the back of his throat. It's the usual noise he makes to convey to his children he is listening and is curious about what is upsetting them

Jason, easily able to understand his sounds now, ranks a hand through his hair with a scoff. "The favor one of my contacts called in. Alvin Draper. I can't find anything on him before my contact took him in"

"Could be a fake name," Bruce offers, typing into his search engine some keywords John spilled in his drunken state. He reads over the runes that pulled up while considering Jason's words. "He gave your contact his name in the same breath as his work. He would unlikely have trusted him that much, so he creates a false name to cover up his street name, which he only gives to customers. His birth name is even less spoken."

"Yeah, I thought the same, so I took the initiative to look at anyone working in his usual areas. Some working girls who answer to me have also asked around. Anyone even remotely matching the description has been tracked down and kept safe, but none were the target. I've even had the others look into it just in case the few corner boys didn't trust Red Hood would be more forthcoming with information. Nothing. Zip. Nada! I'm not an amateur, Bruce. " Jason snarks and Bruce fights off the wave of pride. Of course, his children were able to do all that without him. His kids were incredible at their work.

"No one has seen or heard of Alvin within the industry. If he's a corner boy, he's a private one. Those are the worst because it usually means the clients are crazy powerful and extra careful to not be seen."

Bruce pauses, mind rushing at lightning speed. "Power, not seen and....does this Alvin Draper happen to work on these streets?"

He pulls up a map with various colored dots on it. Bruce had been carefully tracking down where Tim and his Fae had been going through. Tim mainly stayed at the Fae's manor but was allowed to go out to work. One of the reasons Bruce truly believed it was benevolent.

If he ignored the information in the packages, it seemed like Tim was taking some personal time off. His other children surely thought so. They all just laughed at the fact Tim was not about but was still solving the most cases out of all of them.

It was primarily remote work, which Bruce didn't mind. Tim needed a vacation from Red Robin and Wayne Enterprises' CEO.

"Yes!" Jason gasps, leaning towards the map. "How did you find all the targeted areas? My contact said Alvin moved almost every night."

Bruce weighs his options before carefully admitting. "It wasn't my intention to get Alvin's area. I have been tracking a new Fae court that followed these paths."

There was a significant pause before Jason asked with great patience. "There is a what in Gotham?"

"A Fae."

"...Okay, and how long has this been in our city?"

"About two months now."

Jason takes a deep breath. He reaches around Bruce to press the communications line, which he presses four times. At once, the cave is filled with the noise of his children going about their night- either in or out of costume.

All but Tim, since he is still within the Fae's castle. It's a setback that Bruce can't find the castle, even after Tim tells him exactly where it is with coordinates.

He assumes that he, as a human, has no access to the building. Nothing on his computers or tests proves that there is a building there, but Tim swears that's where he's been.

"We have Faes in Gotham. B. has known about them for two months," Jason announces, cutting everyone off. The lines go very silent, and Bruce blinks, confused when he can pick up some anger in his children's silence.

"B?" Dick says in that You better tell me everything right now, old man voice. It's the strangely sickly sweet tone he uses that disguises danger.

Bruce is mystified. Why is he angry? "Two months ago, Tim informed me that a stranger had caught his attention and that he was going undercover. He mostly noticed inconsistencies with his target, but it was only after following the suspect home that he realized the man was not human-"

"Father, are you saying a Fae has Red Robin?" Damian interrupted which is unusual. His youngest almost never does that; he's far too polite and disciplined.

"Yes. He's been in his castle the whole time he's been away."

"Did he eat anything the Fae gave him!?" Duke's cries sounded almost hysterical.

"Yes, he has been there for two months. Tim needed to eat."

"RR has been gone for almost three months, B.!" Harper snaps. She was out as Bluebird for the first time in a while. Her college assignments were really cutting into her hero time.

"Is he okay?" Cullen asks quietly. Bruce had always suspected the lad had a crush on his son, flushing deep red whenever Harper brought him over.

"He is fine. Tim has kept contact with me and seems to be thriving with the Fae. I have been working to get the being to give him back without causing him harm."

"That's what all the research you've been doing lately was about?" Barbara demands.

Bruce squints at the screens where voice lines are beside the images of his children. He doesn't know why but understands that even she is cross with him. "Yes."

"Master Bruce, we will be having a conversation later," Alfred hisses- actually hisses, and Bruce feels cold, hard dread slip down his spine. Oh no. Had he done something wrong again?

Should he not mention his theory that Tim and Alvin are one in the same? Would that make things worse or better?

Jason lets loose a series of swears in Spanish. He leans against the table, pitching his voice loud enough that the rest of the Bats can hear him. "Crude, I think the Fae collects people with the same physical characteristics. Tim and Alvin are known as people of the same height, eye color, age, hair color, and even skin color."

Dick, Damian, Duke, and Harper all swear in their own native tounges, which makes Bruce fight the urge to sink down. Yes, it is better not to mention his other theory of Jason's contact being said, Fae.

Not until he has proof, at least.

"Let me guess." Steph chimes in with a sigh. "Tim followed the Fae because he's pretty."

Bruce remains stubbornly silent, but he thinks that Tim finds the Fae or "Danny" quite handsome. Why else would he spend three paragraphs of his report describing Danny's hair?

"I think we all need to come together to work on this," Dick says next, voice taking charge. Bruce's pride and adoration for the children grow a few notches higher when they all agree without thought.

"Who knows what Tim or Alvin are going through."

Meanwhile, Tim sighed as one of Danny's "hired" help carefully worked out some knots in his back. How long has it been since he had a spa day? Too long. "Was that too rough?"

"No, it's the perfect pressure."

"Wonderful. After we are done here, would you prefer a mud bath or a soothing seaweed wrap?"

"Oh, a mud bath for sure."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny's grill #Part 4 #Bruce has a little of the tism #He doesn't know what is concerned good conversation #Bruce figured it out after one convo with Jason #He tells no one #The Bats are panicking that a Fae has Tim #Tim is being pampered

[starkwlkr]

the sound of my voice will haunt you | mark webber

part 1 part 2

Grace sat in a chair watching you and Mark talk. She was so bored that she started to imagine herself as you. She found a head set and slipped them over her ears. While she played pretend, you were facing reality talking with Mark.

“Does she know about me?” Mark asked.

“She only knows your name. I never talked to her about you. Why would I? You threw it all away so easily, Mark. You broke my heart.” You snapped at him. You had to calm yourself since your daughter was just a few feet away.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness and the amount of times I say I’m sorry isn’t going to fix it.”

“If this is you telling me you want to be in Grace’s life, you have no right.”

Mark knew that. It absolutely broke him that he had a daughter and he couldn’t be with her, but he had fucked it all up. He looked over at the young girl and saw how she played with the head set. She was a miniature version of you.

“I know and I won’t ask for forgiveness of any kind, not from you or Grace. You’ve done an amazing job raising her.” He continued. “Maybe one day you could tell her about me? If not, i understand.”

“As if you told anyone about me in your book. Mark, I did everything for you. I got in trouble for driving you to races, my parents almost took away my keys! I worked day and night in a shitty restaurant, I almost missed my own graduation because of you! A little note would’ve been nice, but it’s as if I never existed in your world. It hurt me.” You held back tears. Suddenly you’re a teenager again hearing all the loud yelling coming from your parents for driving Mark to his races.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to mention you at all. . . ” He said quietly.

“You’re my past now, I would love to stay away from the past. So when you do attend any of the upcoming races and Grace is here, don’t talk to her. It would be better if she didn’t know about you. Please.” You stated.

My own daughter won’t know about me

Mark understood. It would be better after all.

“Okay.” Was all he managed to say. He nodded and lanced one last time at Grace. “Goodbye.”

Before he could leave, Grace looked at him. She wondered why he looked sad. “Why are you sad? Is your favorite team not winning?” She asked Mark.

“Grace. . . It’s time to go.” You hoped Mark wouldn’t start a conversation, but he did. Of course he was making it harder for you.

“Actually, I used to drive for the team that’s winning and I was okay for a number two driver.” Mark crouched down to talk to Grace.

“Did you win lots of races?” She asked.

Mark let out a chuckle. “I won nine races.”

Grace gasped. “My dad won nine races too!”

At that moment, you wished you were anywhere else. Why couldn’t Mark just leave? Why did Grace have to be nice to everyone and be so curious? And why did you tell Grace that her dad was a driver?

“Your dad? He drives?” Mark questioned.

Grace nodded. “Well I think he doesn’t anymore. Mom said my dad was a driver and that he won nine races, but that’s all I know. I had to make a school project about my family and I asked mom about my dad. Do you know my dad?”

Before Mark could reply, you stepped in. “Sweetheart, it’s time for him to leave. Come on, we’ll get ice cream on the way back.”

“Bye!” Grace waved to the unknown man as you grabbed her hand and walked away from Mark.

He felt a little okay knowing his daughter knew something about him. Maybe one day you would change your mind and let Grace know the truth.

MIAMI 2024

Mark wouldn’t see you or Grace until the Miami Grand Prix. He honestly didn’t feel like even going, but Oscar insisted. At least he wasn’t going to be alone, Jenson was also going, but the British man would be conducting interviews. He kept busy looking at his phone until found him in the Mclaren hospitality. He wasn’t sure why you were even looking for him in the first place.

“Can you look after Grace? My friend couldn’t make it and she was the only person I trust to look after her. I wouldn’t ask if I had another option.” You sighed.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of her.” Mark nodded, putting his phone away. “Where is she?”

“She’s with Oscar in his driver’s room. Just please don’t mention the obvious.” You demanded.

“I won’t, but can I ask one thing?” He stared at your eyes that he still loved after many years. “Why did you tell Grace that her dad won nine races and that he was a driver? You could’ve lied.”

You didn’t want to lie to your daughter, you just couldn’t so you told her part of the truth. Technically, you didn’t think she would even meet Mark ever.

“I can’t lie to her. She knows when I’m lying anyways.” You said.

“What’s her favorite color?” Mark suddenly asked. “I want to know at least some stuff about her so I can talk to her. What if she gets bored halfway through the race?”

You hesitated even telling Mark, but you did anyway. “Her favorite color changes everyday, but today it’s purple. She loved coloring with chalk, she wants to have a puppy and name it Goose like the character from Top Gun, her favorite book series is Junie B. Jones and she tells everyone that she’s tall for her age.” You listed several things.

Mark smiled as he listened to you. “Top Gun? We watched Top Gun on our first date, you know?”

“You’re so annoying.”

You and Mark walk back to the Mclaren garage, which obviously made several people confused. Were you back together? No, you couldn’t be . . . right? By the time the race was close to starting, photos of you and Mark were everywhere. Even Sebastian had texted Jenson wondering about you and Mark.

Grace was sitting next to Mark when the race began. She occasionally glanced at him then grabbed his paddock pass and read his name.

“You’re here with Oscar?” She asked.

Mark nodded. “I’m his manager.”

“So you’re like his dad when his dad is not here?”

“That’s one way to put it.” He chuckled. “Your mum told me you like want a puppy.”

Grace’s eye lit up with joy. “Yes! The puppy is going to be named Goose and they’re going to sleep in my bed.”

Mark hardly payed attention to the race. He kept asking questions in hopes that he could learn more about her. Once in a while, you would look back only to see Mark and Grace laughing.

“One time, my mom almost lost her necklace because she was dancing too hard to her favorite song. It fell and we looked everywhere for it but we couldn’t see it because it was a small letter. But I found it!” Grace said which made Mark question if it was the same necklace that he had given you years ago.

“What letter was it?”

“I think it was M?”

The ‘M’ necklace was a gift from Mark on your first anniversary. It was old, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of it. If anyone asked what the M stood for, you lied saying it was your middle name or for someone in your family.

“Does your mum always wear it?” Mark asked.

“Not anymore. But I think it’s pretty.” Grace replied. “Your name starts with M!”

All Mark did was nod.

The race had finished and soon you were back to your daughter. She had told you how Mark has dogs and invited her to meet them.

“Grace, can you go sit over there for a little while? I need to talk to Mark.” You pointed to the seat that she was sitting during the race. She obeyed and now it was just you and Mark. “Thank you. I really hope she wasn’t too much to handle.”

Mark shook his head. “She’s very talkative when it comes to her favorite things. She’s a great kid.” He debated whether to tell you about the necklace story that Grace had told him. Finally, he decided he would keep that to himself.

“I wanted you to hear this from me instead of the media. I’m leaving the team after this season.” You said only loud enough for him to hear.

“But you’ll be back, right? I mean the team is doing well, Lando just won his first ever race, obviously it could’ve been better for Oscar, but you are the heart and soul of this team.” Mark could see a frown forming on your face.

“I love this team, but it’s time for me to be a mom. Grace needs me, Mark. I already told Zak and it’s final. They’ll announce my departure soon. Thanks again for looking after Grace, this is the last time you’ll see her.”

He was glad that he could at least spend some time with Grace. She was a joy to be around. Their time together was something Mark would cherish forever.

For the rest of the 2024 season, Mark stopped calling you the Mclaren team principal and, instead, used your name. He praised you, gave you the credit you deserved and defended you any time. Mark had even made a statement about the person who had leaked the information about you and him when he talked with Fernando. It was rumored that a photographer had leaked it. He knew nothing was going to change, but he needed to correct his wrongs. It all started with an instagram post about you.

INSTAGRAM

(this is just for fanfic purposes, you can use any faceclaim)

liked by oscarpiastri, f1 and 837,377 others

aussiegrit everyone i meet will have to know you, to understand me. anyone that truly knows me, knows your name.

comments are limited

@vicurious28 @glow-ish @dannyriccsupremacy @viennakarma @pear-1206 @nathalielovesonedirection @jaydaaasworld @shimmermotorsport @honethatty12 @a-beaverhausen @champomiel @spencerrxids @hc-dutch @christianpulisic10 @phantomxoxo @sevythebeanqueen @stinkyjax @clearearthquakewolf @kissesandmartinis @untitled23459 @c-losur3 @yourbane @shiftingtomydrs

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber imagine #mark webber fanfic #mark webber #mclaren team principal!reader #f1 instagram au #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞'𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦

↳ summary: the x-men can't seem to leave you alone, even if you've made it clear that you want nothing to do with them. as a last-ditch effort, they send logan, who's a little different than the rest

↳ notes: man writing this fucked me up. i kept editing it because i didn't like how it sounded, so some feedback would be much appreciated

↳ warnings: mentions of blowing things up in a past instance, but no one died. reader is a mutant and their powers are kept ambiguous, but it is implied they can somehow cause explosions

↳ song: promiscuous—nelly furtado

masterlist | commissions | carrd

The first time they sent someone, you had been excepting it

You weren't dumb. You knew the difference between an innocent bystander and a hired gun; or at least something along those lines. The way people walked talked and carried themselves was always a dead giveaway, and recently you had been surrounded by a few too many intense stares and stiff shoulders for your liking. A lot more than you were used to, in fact. Maybe that's what prompted you to start taking a new way home from work instead of the usual combination of cross walks and dirty bus seats.

The quick guy with silver hair was their first attempt at contact. You had found him waiting outside your apartment for you to get home all but a week after noticing the new attention on you, and you would have ignored him too if it wasn't for the fact that he was sitting on the outside your balcony, kicking his feet merrily off the side about ten stories above the pavement below without a care in the world. And with what looked like a twinkie in his hand, too.

You'd closed the blinds without a second thought, tossing him a fake grin and a little wave when he eventually turned around as you slammed them shut. You were fairly certain he could have stopped you in no time flat, if the way you would watch him zip away in the blink of an eye later said anything, but you took a heat-of-the-moment gamble and were satisfied when all your efforts got was a whine from the other side of your window pane. His mouth was too full of pre-packaged pastry to say anything in the moment, you realized

"Not interested." You called over your back as you began to retreat into your kitchen without another moments notice.

"You haven't even heard what I want!" He said thickly, clearly trying to swallow as he spoke. You must have startled him a little then. Good.

"And I don't need to."

He left a few minutes later when his one sided conversationalist skills got him no where, and you responded by throwing a frozen pizza in the lower half of your oven.

You had been craving pepperoni all day anyway.

The second person try was a bit more aggressive.

They didn't have the decency to wait for you to come home this time. Instead, you found yourself looking up from your laptop as a chair was pulled out across from you at the quaint table you sat at. It made a scraping noise, and you tensed the muscles in your hands for a moment at the sound.

"Can I help you." Your eyebrow quirked up as you looked at the woman across from you. She had blonde hair, and what you thought were the brownest eyes you had even seen. You had trouble looking anywhere but into them for a second. When they hit the light, you swore they turned yellow just for a moment, and she looked about as annoyed as you were that she was sitting by you. You didn't have to wait long to find out why.

"We've been trying to reach you." The surrounding noise of the café hardly disturbed the hard tone in her voice. "You're avoiding us."

At least this time these people had the common sense to approach you in public. If you were any form of confrontational, which you very much weren't, you could have started a fight the last time. Who knows if you would have won against super speed and whatever else the first guy had— you weren't exactly sure about the extent of his powers, and at this point didn't care —but the point remains that some damage could have been done. Now, in the middle of a coffee shop on a busy afternoon, it would be a bit harder to start a fight. Not that you were seriously concidering it. If anything, you wanted to duck into a large crowd just to loose this new recruiter, or whatever they were called. You didn't exactly know if they had a name for this type of situation.

"I have no idea who you are." Your tone matched her own, dealing out the half lie nonchalantly. You weren't technically wrong, really. You didn't know her, nor did you know that other man that had shown up before. But you knew what they wanted, and you'd be damned if they didn't pin you down without a bit of a struggle.

Moving with a speed quick enough to get your message across, but not fast enough as to alert any of the surrounding coustomers that something was up, you closed your laptop, abandoned your now lukewarm drink, and started for the door. You only paused in your movements after a weight settled over the back of your shoulder, and you carefully turned your neck to look down at the hand resting firmly on you.

"I don't recommend doing that." You said with a bit of a warning tone in your voice, looking her right in the eyes as you did so. They had since shifted from dark brown to an almost hazel shade, and you filed that information away for later use.

Her grip remained where it was for a moment. Then a thought seemed to cross her mind, and she let go of her hold on your shirt; even if a bit reluctantly.

You didn't stick around to see if anything else would happen. You just made your way out of the shop and into the bustling street, not caring if she followed. They already knew where you lived anyway.

"Taxi!!"

The final person they sent for you, you hadn't seen coming.

Every other time— from the teleporting blue kid, to the woman with white hair and fair skin, and even the tall guy in glasses that had turned a little blue when you pushed your way past him —you had been able to prepare beforehand. At the very least you were able to lock your doors before going out and about your day. You knew that wouldn't stop them in the slightest, but it was a silent message to stay out of your business.

But this guy? This guy just didn't care at all.

"You know, you're really nailing this first impression thing."

A gruff voice sprang to life at the same moment that your hallway lights did, doing a fine job at catching you off guard. You managed to not jump, but with the way the intruders lips tilted up, you figured he knew he had surprised you.

"Oh, fuck my life."

You were really not feeling like another impromptu visit tonight. You had gotten home from a rough day of work a couple of hours ago, only to realize that you had finally blown through all your food, and was once more sent back out into the city to look for a grocery store. You had been looking forward to finally resting your feet, and maybe your eyes a few hours earlier than planned, and you most certainly weren't in the right state of mind to entertain this hulking figure of a man and the proposition that came with him.

You looked at him harshly. He had muscles for days, and a brown leather jacket to accentuate just how large he was. You knew for a fact that he was a few weight classes up from the last guy that had been sent to your house, and you wondered if this was their way of trying to intimidate you into forcefully accepting their offer.

Tiny scars dotted his face and the skin on his neck. You wondered why there were so few, considering that you already knew what he did for a living, but also knew better than to question someone like him. Especially since he was already standing in the doorway to your home, looking like he owned the place.

"Go away." You didn't grant him any sort of emotion in your voice as you walked in the direction of your fridge. The plastic bags full of your food for the week swung in your arms, and for a moment you thought this new guy was going to block your way into the rest of the house before he backed off with a roll of his shoulders.

You clocked his broad chest and bruised knuckles out of the corner of your eyes as you opened the ice box and slowly placed some frozen veggies in side by side. He had either gotten here straight from a fight, or was itching for one. You figured it was probably the former considering he hadn't jumped you the second you walked through the door. Or you know, maybe he just had fucked up hands. You could never tell with people at this point.

"You're pleasant." The mans wry smile was nothing but headache educing as you finished putting the cold groceries up. You snorted with hollow amusement.

"Try being stalked for a month and a half. It really makes you feel like being hospitable."

"Try being the guy that gets sent to get in contact with you. It ain't exactly the way I wanted to be spending my Friday night either." He parroted back your words while running a hand down his face and across what you had since recognized as mutton chops in the process.

"When are you going to tell that professor of yours that I'm not interested in his little passion project." You think that might have been the first time you ever directly acknowledged what exactly was going on. Every other time you had just told the other person to get lost or slammed a door in their face to really get the point across, but the way this guy was looking at you gave you the feeling that he wouldn't be as easy to shoo away as the others, and you weren't really feeling up for a giant display of effort right about now.

"You could always tell him yourself, bub." His eyes followed your face as you crossed the room to stop in front of him, hand outstretched with something that ignited a small smirk on his face.

"Trying to bribe me?" He asked, going to take the fresh beer you offered him all the same. You shook your head.

"No. My master plan actually consists of getting you shit-faced drunk so you guys will finally leave me alone." You watched as his hand hesitated in mid-air slightly, and you misinterpreted his silent amusement at your jab for skepticism. "I've just got too much beer and a stranger in my apartment that's not going to leave me alone anytime soon, that’s all." You relented with a shrug.

"Fair enough." He took the brown bottle by the neck and popped open the top without so much as looking around for a bottle opener. When the cap went rushing to the floor less than a second later, you squinted.

"What are you then? Super strong? Or is your power alcoholism." That got a rough chuckle out of him. He swallowed about half of the bottle in one go before answering, and you sucked at your teeth as he did so.

"Something like that."

"Wow. Really feeling the comradery here." You didn't miss the way he deadpanned at that, and you figured he was thinking about all of the times you had kicked every other pursuer to the curb without even letting them get a word in edge wise. Still, you pushed on. "Remind me how its fair that you and your friends know all about me, but I have a new hero-of-the-week showing up on my doorstep every other day without so much as a clue as to what they could do to me?"

"About as fair as your little accident in Colorado." He responded without a seconds hesitation. You felt a little perspiration form on the back of your neck, and chalked it up to the lack of a.c in the room. Even if it was anything but.

"If you're here to try and convince me to join your little superhero team, I hate to tell you, but it isn't going to work. Just like it didn't work the past ten times." You ignored his last comment and made yourself comfortable on your living room couch. "Do you have a name? I've never really stuck around to talk to one of you this long before, and it's annoying to keep rendering to you as 'some guy' in my head."

He paused abruptly while drinking the beer, and you barely held back from rolling your eyes at his change in mood.

"It's Logan." He finally bit out reluctantly. You got the feeling that the only reason he told you was because he was here by request. If it has been any other circumstances, you had no doubts that he would have told you to fuck off. He gave off that energy.

"You already know mine, so I'm not gonna bother." You kicked your feet up and let your head hit the back of the couch with a sigh. "Just let me know when you finally get bored and head out. I want to make sure my landlord knows to blacklist you from the building after you're gone."

"Is this how you got everyone else to leave? By annoying them to death?" Logan sounded more entertained then you would have liked, and you blamed it on the beer.

"Depends. Is it working?"

"I've been sleeping at a school filled with screaming kids for the past few weeks. You're going to have to try harder than that to get me out of here." He took another swig.

"What will it take to get you to leave me alone. All of you." Your voice dipped out of it's usually casual tone for a more annoyed one. You were used to playing the long game when it came to getting people to leave you alone, but at this point it was getting ridiculous with the amount of people that they were throwing at you, and it was starting to wear you out. You weren't sure if Logan could tell your patience was being tested, and you weren't sure if you wanted him to.

Logan raised one eyebrow in your direction as an answer to your question, and you sighed.

"I'm not taking a stupid fucking spot on the X-Men if that's what you're implying. What do I have to do to convince you guys that I'm not up for it; blow up a building on accident or something?" The word 'again' went unsaid, but the implication was there.

You watched as Logan seemed to throw something around in his mind for a moment.

"Do you want to know why I joined the X-Men?" He eventually asked.

"Because you had nothing else to do with yourself other than styling your hair real stupid? Seriously what's with this horn thing you've got going in."

"I joined because they helped pull me off a dark path, kid." He barreled past your sarcasm, shutting you down quicker than you would like to admit. His tone was laced with something you recognized all as hatred, and you knew it wasn't directed at you, but rather himself. You knew the feeling all too well.

"I was running from something that I didn't even know I was trying to avoid." He continued. "And if it wasn't for the Professor and his 'stupid fucking team', I wouldn't have ever stopped."

For the first time in the past few minutes, you allowed one of your walls to come down as he spoke. You stared at him with a tired look lingering behind your gaze, choosing this time to listen rather than to ignore.

"I'm not running from anything." Even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. Logan didn't even have to look at you for you to sigh and lean forward again.

"I can see why the Professor wants you on the team." You felt the cushions on the opposite end of your couch dip slowly as he sat down. The now empty beer bottle was still in his hand, but as you looked over at Logan, you found his eyes filled to the brim with nothing but the honest truth.

It was a strange, tense moment. Both you and Logan could admit that. You were clearly filled with regret for your past actions, no matter how accidental they might have been, and conflicted with yourself because of it. Logan could do nothing more but watch as you battled with yourself over his words. His original plan had been to come here, show off a claw or two if needed, and bring you back to the school with a characteristic scowl on his face. But all that was thrown out the window when you offered him a beer, and when he was finally able to get a good look at you.

You looked exactly how he used to before one of his old cage matches. Detached and losing yourself. He could see it in your eyes.

The room delved into silence. You wrung your hands together and planted your feet. Logan watched as you seemed to have a silent conversation with yourself, and he began to regret not pacing himself with the beer. He wasn't anywhere near affected by the alcohol, that's to say. He just wished he had something to do other than sit in your home with squared shoulders and a furrowed brow.

"If I took one trip over to the place, would you guys let up on whatever this is?" You finally asked. Logan pushed down a faint smirk as you turned your neck to look at him.

"Sure."

You didn't say anything else, and you didn't have to. You got up without another word and grabbed a bag from a nearby closet. Logan found himself leaning on your doorframe as you stuffed a few essentials down into your travel bag in the room over, and he remained there until you finished.

"Still curious about my powers?" Logan decided to bait you just a little further as you shut the door to your apartment with a click of your keys, and he had trouble keeping a straight face when you looked back at him with curiosity dancing across your features.

Without saying anything, he held one of his hands up, and let you watch as his trademark claws popped up slowly. Like seasonal weeds in a garden full of flowers. The appendages let out a slight sliding noise as they did so, and you blinked once. Twice. Three times.

"And I thought my powers were bad." You finally said after a moment, and Logan scoffed at you.

"Kid, everyone thinks their powers are bad at first."

You seemed to take that as a challenge, and Logan watched as a bit of that fire that he'd heard about from Storm and the others flared up in you.

"Yeah? You ever accidently blow up a boiler room and take out half your high school's classes, big guy?" Your grin was all teeth as the two of you made your way down the complex hallway. Logan slowed his pace so you could keep up, and turned around so he could fully look at you as he walked backwards.

"Big guy?" He questioned you with a tilted of his head, looking about as unimpressed as he could.

"I mean yeah." You snickered. "Just look at your, well, everything." You took to gesturing at his entire being, something that got you a huff from the other man.

"Maybe you're just small." He shot back. You laughed and shook your head, looking down at yourself. Yeah right.

"And maybe I'm right, and you're just freakishly big."

Your banter continued all the way down to the elevator, where you had a hard time holding in your laughter as Logan accidentally almost stabbed the down button with his claws, apparently having forgotten that they were even out.

You couldn't help but wonder if he was always like this; if everyone at the school was like this.

Maybe going for a visit wasn't as much as a bad idea as you'd thought.

#xmen #xmen x reader #xmen x you #xmen x y/n #wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #peter maximoff #mystique #charles xavier #x reader #one shot

[loves0phelia]

frank castle x nurse!gf fluff xx

Midnight Visitor

Summery: the request.

Words: 1k

Warnings: implied smut at the end, injuries, grammar mistakes

A/N: Thank you I loved writing this one.

Your cat was purring in your lap as you stroked her on your couch while watching a movie during your first night off of the entire month. You knew being a nurse wouldn't be easy, you knew you had to prepare mentally every time you went in. But when you got your rare nights off it felt like heaven.

You barely heard the knock that came from your window over the sound of your TV. Some people would scold you about it being bad for your ears. 

You did hear when the person on the other side tried pulling up your window but failed as it was locked.

With a sigh, you picked up your kitten and placed her beside you on the couch. After earning a hiss of discomfort,  you stood up letting the blanket that was draped over you fall on the cold hardwood floor.

Tiredly you opened the curtains with no hesitation since you already knew who was on the other side. Frank was crouched on your fire escape looking desperate to get in as blood gushed out of his forehead and a massive bruise was forming around his eye.

You unlocked your window and rapidly he opened it letting the freezing air enter your cozy apartment.

“Between all the days you could have chosen to get hurt and come here to get patched up, it had to be on my day off?” Your hands raised on your hips in a scolding manner. A habit you and your twin brother, Matt Murdock, had taken from your late father.

“Hey sweetheart” his lips connected with your cheek as he passed you and made his way into your kitchen gathering the needed supplies as if it were his apartment. At this point it almost was. 

“What happened this time? Another mob? Fisk? A gang?” you followed behind him as he walked to the bathroom. After putting down the medical stuff you kept stacked beneath your sink, he sat down on your counter. 

“It was your damn brother” He cursed and you began looking over his injuries. You knew it probably hurt like a bitch but Frank would never show how much he suffered.

“What did he do this time?” you asked, whispering as you poured alcohol on a small white cotton.

“He's still mad you and I are together,  so when I was about to put down one of those gang members” he paused to curse again as you pressed the cotton ball into his cut. “he took the opportunity to hit me with his stupid ass batons”

You listened carefully as he explained what happened.

“You know he's not completely wrong, Frankie” His eyes shifted from the ceiling to you and glared. 

“But they deserve it. They've done worse to innocent people, to children”  His voice got darker when he mentioned the last part.

“I know my love, I know” You laid your hand on his cheeks and ran your thumb over it. “You are right, they deserve it but don't you think it would be better if they served justice in prison? where they wouldn't have the choice to live in poor conditions? where they would have no choice but to rot there?”

He sighed, leaned into your hand and slowly kissed your palm.

“I would never hate you for killing monsters like them but Matthew is not all wrong. He's just doing what he thinks is right, just like you” you spoke softly before you took his hand in yours to examine his knuckles. They were bloody and bruised. You wish they weren't but you knew he was doing it to make the city better, safe. 

“How are you so good to me? I don't deserve you” You stop your work of wrapping his hand in a bandage after he finishes his sentence.

“You deserve everything you ever desire, alright? You are a good man, whoever tries to prove you on the contrary deserve whatever you're gonna do to them” You furiously continue wrapping them. The thought of anyone saying Frank didn't deserve happiness infuriated you.

“Did you just- Did you imply they deserve to be killed?” a smirk appeared on his face and your brow furrowed. It was not the time to make jokes.

“Red would not like what you just said- Hey!” He yelled when you purposely tighten the bandages.

“Okay, okay I'm sorry” You loosened it after his apology and carried on treating his wounds.

you checked his head, his chest, his arms and the rest of his body for other injuries but after a couple of minutes of searching, he seemed fine.

“You might have a headache because of the gash on your forehead so before going to sleep I would recommend you take a Tylenol,” you said while still standing between his knees.

“Can I stay tonight?” His hand came up to your hips to keep you in place. His eyes were begging you.

“You know you always can. You don't even have to ask” you whispered.

"I love you so much” you returned his words before slowly pressing your lips to his. They were chapped from the cold weather but nothing would ever make kissing Frank Castle unpleasant.

“I have to wake up early tomorrow, I have a morning shift at the hospital, and I gotta pay Matt a visit,” you say against his lips and he groans at the mention of his name.

You opened your mouth again, about to add something but his lips connected with your lips shutting you up immediately.

A small moan escaped your lips as his hand grabbed your ass pulling you against him. He stood up now towering over you and without once detaching your lips, you jumped intertwining your legs around his waist.

Your fingers desperately gripped his hair as he held you up while walking messily to your bedroom across your apartment.

Gently, he dropped you into your bed and began kissing down your neck and stomach. Words could not describe how he made you feel that night.`

#frank castle fluff #frank castle x you #frank castle angst #frank castle x reader #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #frank castle x female reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x y/n #jon bernthal

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, and what makes a psychopath

First of all, I'm not a licensed therapist or psychiatrist, but I love reading things online. I also love analyzing fictional characters, so why not do both and show why Albus Dumbledore shows just as many signs of ASPD (Antisocial Personality Disorder) as Tom Marvolo Riddle and that both men are much more similar than they'd like to think.

Whats ASPD?

ASPD, also known as Antisocial Personality Disorder, is a personality disorder. This disorder encapsulates both what people commonly call "psychopaths" and "sociopaths" and is actually mischaracterized often. It is a real mental disorder and not all real-life people with ASPD are dangerous to be around like the fictional ones, some live completely lawful murder-free lives. This post is mostly an interesting thought exercise and not meant to be a diagnostic tool or to be seen as how all people with ASPD are.

So, personality disorders refer to mental disorders that affect thought processes, personality, and how a person interacts with the world as a whole. ASPD, as its name suggests, focuses on social interactions. It is categorized by a lack of empathy, a penchant for lying, irresponsibility, and disregard for other's rights or feelings along with a lack of remorse.

All in all it sounds a lot like what we'd associate with Tom Riddle, but Dumbledore fits just as many of the symptoms required for an ASPD diagnosis.

How is ASPD diagnosed?

The DSM-5 (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) categorizes and describes how to diagnose all clinically recognized mental illnesses. The DSM-5's diagnostic criteria for Antisocial Personality Disorder:

A pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, since age 15 years, as indicated by three (or more) of the following:

Disregarding the law, indicated by repeatedly committing acts that are grounds for arrest

Being deceitful, indicated by lying repeatedly, using aliases, or conning others for personal gain or pleasure

Acting impulsively or not planning ahead

Being easily provoked or aggressive, indicated by constantly getting into physical fights or assaulting others

Recklessly disregarding their safety or the safety of others

Consistently acting irresponsibly, indicated by quitting a job with no plans for another one or not paying bills

Not feeling remorse, indicated by indifference to or rationalization of hurting or mistreating others

2. The individual is at least age 18 years.

3. Evidence of conduct disorder typically with onset before age 15 years.

4. The occurrence of antisocial behavior is not exclusively during schizophrenia or bipolar disorder.

So let's look at the boys, shall we?

This isn't meant to be a professional diagnosis, I just want to show how similar Tom and Dumbledore are in certain ways neither of them would like to confess and for that, we'll look through the behavior patterns used to diagnose ASPD.

1. Disregarding the law, indicated by repeatedly committing acts that are grounds for arrest

With Tom, this category of behavior is easy to tick off. He murdered multiple people. He led a terrorist organization. He cast illegal dark magic, including all three unforgivables, I don't think anyone would argue Tom didn't do many illegal things.

The thing is, Dumbledore disregards the law just as much, if, in different ways.

The Order of the Phoenix that he leads is an illegal paramilitary group separate from the government that is kept a secret from law enforcement at large and the general population, as shown in the news article leading to the publication of Rita's book:

WHAT was the real purpose of the secret organization known as the Order of the Phoenix?

(DH, 24)

This organization is illegal in their world. Additionally, Dumbledore shows no care for the ministry or its laws once it suits him. (It's not necessarily a bad thing because the Ministry of Magic sucks, but still). He showed as much in all his interactions with people like Fudge and Umbridge, going as far as actually resisting arrest in OotP after the DA was discovered. (again, he is right for doing it, but it still shows a disregard for their law, which I personally consider healthy because it's the Ministry of Magic)

And then, of course, there was Dumbledore's quest for muggle domination with Grindelwald:

Your point about Wizard dominance being FOR THE MUGGLES’ OWN GOOD—this, I think is the crucial point. Yes, we have been given power and yes, that power gives up the right to rule, but it also gives us responsibilities over the ruled. We must stress this point, it will be the foundation stone upon which we build. Where we are opposed, as we surely will be, this must be the basis of all our counterarguments. We seize control FOR THE GREATER GOOD.

(DH, 309)

None of which sounds awfully legal. His intentions back then were to rule over the muggles and take control by force if they had to. Showing that even in his youth, Dumbledore didn't have much consideration for the law.

2. Being deceitful, indicated by lying repeatedly, using aliases, or conning others for personal gain or pleasure

There are many examples of Tom lying for various reasons, I picked out one of them to exibit here:

Riddle laughed his high laugh again. “It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student . . . on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed

(CoS, 288)

But Tom lies a lot. Both at school, at the orphanage, and about his identity. He lies to his followers often and I'd say he also lies to himself, but that's another matter. This category literally mentions using an alias and that is one of the things Tom (or, well, Voldemort) is well known for.

As for Dumbledore, he lies and conceals just as much. Abeforth said he was always this way:

“I can’t leave,” said Harry. “I’ve got a job—” “Give it to someone else!” “I can’t. It’s got to be me, Dumbledore explained it all—” “Oh, did he now? And did he tell you everything, was he honest with you?” Harry wanted with all his heart to say “Yes,” but somehow the simple word would not rise to his lips, Aberforth seemed to know what he was thinking. “I knew my brother, Potter. He learned secrecy at our mother’s knee. Secrets and lies, that’s how we grew up, and Albus. . . he was a natural.”

(DH, 477-478)

The "greater good" was all for the sake of appearances, it was a deception — a lie to make muggle domination more palatable for the general population. He lied in his position as headmaster and in his relationship with Harry:

Not telling Harry about, well, anything, and justifying it to himself by telling himself Harry would be better off not knowing, even when it isn't necessarily true.

Lying to Lockhart to get him in a dangerous position Dumbledore knew he was unfit for.

Lying about Lupin being a werewolf (this one is a lie that does have a good intention behind it, but I count it here anyway)

Lying about the petrifications in 2nd year. Dumbledore was at the school last time the Chamber opened and knew what was going on, still waited for Harry to act.

Same in 1st year. Harry himself says he's pretty sure Dumbledore always knew about Quirrell but wanted to give Harry the chance to face Voldemort.

Lying to Harry about Malfoy not being anything to worry about, even though he knows what's going on. But instead of agreeing there is concern and it is being dealt with he just tries to gaslight Harry.

I can go on, but I think the gist is clear.

3. Acting impulsively or not planning ahead

They are actually both planners when they want to be. But they can also be impulsive on occasion, if more rare for them. We'll consider this a symptom they don't have, mostly.

4. Being easily provoked or aggressive, indicated by constantly getting into physical fights or assaulting others

Now, Tom can get provoked and react aggressively, although, I won't call it easily. Tom actually avoids unnecessary bloodshed when possible:

He saw the small boy’s smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his painted face. Then the child turned and ran away. . . . Beneath the robe be fingered the hand of his wand. . . One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother. . . but unnecessary, quite unnecessary. . . .

(DH, 295)

I mean, he wouldn't have been prefect and head boy if he constantly got into fights. So I feel safe in saying Tom didn't get into fights often and much of the behavior we see towards his followers is fueled by both general frustration and his feeling they deserve this punishment. These punishments are planned, they aren't often impulsive and in the moment of rage (and when they are, it's only when Harry Potter is involved).

Dumbledore is quite the same. He is capable of getting angry when provoked, but avoids violence he doesn't see as necessary.

We'll consider this a symptom they don't have.

5. Recklessly disregarding their safety or the safety of others

So many times... for both of them...

For Tom:

He clearly doesn't care about most of his Death Eaters, he wouldn't mind if they died and he endangered them often.

He also endagers himself just as much, if not more; by mutilating himself to create Horcruxes.

And by charging into battle himself often.

For Dumbledore:

Dumbledore endangers the Order's safety repeatedly. Yes, they made the decision to join, but he is still the one sending Hagrid to negotiate with the giants and Remus to talk to the werewolves. He is still the one who sends them towards danger and is willing to risk them.

Dumbledore endangers Snape, he manipulates him into the position of a spy and wilfully disregards Snape's safety.

Harry. Just everything, since he placed him on the doorstep of the Dursleys Dumbledore has willfully endangered Harry — from the abuse to setting Harry up to face the various yearly adventures every year.

Dumbledore tells Harry in HBP he takes his student's safety seriously, but he really doesn't: he knows about the Chamber, but still waits for Harry to resolve it, even when students are getting petrified. He knew Malfoy was planning something in HBP, but allowed him to continue with his ploys that sent Katie Bell to St. Mongos for months. There are more, but I think you get the gist.

Dumbledore also endangers himself quite carelessly from how he picked up the ring, his willingness to go into battle, his drinking of the potion in the locket's cave, and his willingness to die for his own plans.

6. Consistently acting irresponsibly, indicated by quitting a job with no plans for another one or not paying bills

We actually see both of them are capable of holding jobs for a long time (Dumbledore at Hogwarts and Tom at Borgin and Burkes) and even when Tom leaves Borgin and Burkes, he has a plan for his leave.

Both show irresponsibility in other ways. Tom allows his Death Eaters to wreak havoc in the ministry in book 7 while he's off chasing the Elder Wand, Dumbledore repeatedly shows how unconcerned he is with the education of the students at Hogwarts (his actual job) by hiring people like Lockhart, who he knew to be a fraud and allowing Umbridge to be hired (he had the Order, he could've convinced the real Mad-Eye Moody to come teach, or even Tonks, but no, he needed to teach Harry a lesson about the ministry so he allowed Umbridge into the school).

7. Not feeling remorse, indicated by indifference to or rationalization of hurting or mistreating others

Well, not feeling remorse is kind of a big part of Tom's character, isn't it:

“It’s your one last chance,” said Harry, “it’s all you’ve got left. . . . I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise. . . . Be a man . . . try . . . Try for some remorse. . . .” “You dare—?” said Voldemort again.

(DH, 625)

That he isn't sorry for what he did at any point to anyone. Yes, he shows affection to Nagini and Bellatrix, but he takes occasional joy in emberessing Bellatrix.

He truly isn't sorry because he doesn't care. He is indifferent to the suffering of most.

The thing is, Dumbledore is the same.

He shows complete cold disregard for Lockhart's situation after his loss of memories, rationalizing it as "deserved".

As I mentioned, he doesn't care when Katie gets cursed by the necklace or when students get petrified in 2nd year. He allows it to happen because it isn't happening to anyone important.

Dumbledore is hellbent on killing Tom, on utterly destroying him, this is weird for a person who supposedly believes in second chances, especially a person who let Gallert Grindlewald live. Grindelwald had a much higher death count than Voldemort. He killed and hurt way more people, but Dumbledore likes him, so he rationalizes killing Tom, but not Gallert.

He disregards Harry's pain and hurt over Sirius's death:

“Oh yes, you do,” said Dumbledore, still more calmly. “You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care.” “YOU DON’T KNOW HOW I FEEL!” Harry roared. “YOU — STANDING THERE — YOU —”

(OotP, 824)

He speaks calmly and coldly throughout the whole exchange, just waiting for Harry to calm down enough so he can tell him about the prophecy. Dumbledore doesn't empathize with Harry's pain.

He disregards Harry's abuse:

“Five years ago, then,” continued Dumbledore, as though he had not paused in his story, “you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well.

(OotP, 837)

He says he knew Harry to be mistreated (and starved!) since 1st year, but he does nothing until 6th year when he needs Harry. No, instead he rationalizes Harry's abuse, it's necessary for the plan, so Harry won't be spoiled, it's for the greater good.

And, of course, he raised Harry like a "pig to slaughter":

“We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength,” said Dumbledore, his eyes still tight shut. “Meanwhile, the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth. Sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will truly mean the end of Voldemort.” Dumbledore opened his eyes. Snape looked horrified. “You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?” “Don’t be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?” “Lately, only those whom I could not save,” said Snape. He stood up. “You have used me.” “Meaning?” “I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter—” “But this is touching, Severus,” said Dumbledore seriously. “Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?” “For him?” shouted Snape. “Expecto Patronum!”

(DH, 580)

I think it's telling how Severus Snape, who despises the concept of Harry, reacts more sympatheticly and emotionally to Harry's death than Dumbledore. Dumbledore is cold and uncaring, he just calls Snape out for caring as if Snape is in the wrong for reacting the way any human would. Because Dumbledore is cold enough to rationalize any sacrifice he considers necessary.

The last quote was also about how Dumbledore used Severus. He manipulated Snape into oaths and bonds to spy for him and protect Harry. Twisted Snape's guilt to get some use out of him. And for Dumbledore, it was justified, it was for the greater good.

Results

So, Tom got 5/7 for ASPD symptoms, and Dumbledore got 5/7. And you only need 3 for a diagnosis, so, yeah...

What I wanted to talk about and get to with all of this is Tom and Dumbledore's similarities that both of them hate to see. Their despise for each other is partly fueled by it, I think. They look at each other and see some of their own traits mirrored back, but arranged all wrong.

Dumbledore sees the worst version of himself in Tom Riddle and Tom sees their similarities and Dumbledore's hypocrisy to those similarities and hates him for that.

They were both the most brilliant wizards of their respective generations, top students at Hogwarts, when they graduated, Dumbledore planned to go on a tour of the world to study magic abroad like Tom did. They both received offers for ministry positions, which they both declined because they wanted to be professors at Hogwarts. They both lead paramilitary organizations (Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix) and they are both willing to make sacrifices in the quest for their goals.

Tom is willing to kill and tear himself up to create Horcruxes because it's necessary in his eyes:

Beneath the robe be fingered the hand of his wand. . . One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother. . . but unnecessary, quite unnecessary. . . .

(DH, 295)

Dumbledore is willing to sacrifice Harry and himself in the quest for the "greater good":

We seize control FOR THE GREATER GOOD.

(DH, 309)

I just find the fact that both of them show psychopathic traits in equal measure in similar ways super interesting. This distorted mirror is so fascinating, especially because the respective characters would despise being compared to each other.

#harry potter #hp #harry potter thoughts #hp thoughts #hp meta #harry potter meta #hollowedtheory #dumbledore #albus dumbledore #tom riddle #lord voldemrot #voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #aspd #i guess

[youcouldmakealife]

KS Fill: Gabe/Stephen; not on the list

For the prompt: I would say Gabe and Stephen’s wedding because I want that more than anything in the world, but I suspect that’s coming without my prompt? But if it’s not… 

It would come either way, probably, but this started the ball rolling.

More Gabe and Stephen, more lists. No actual wedding, but we get pretty damn adjacent.

Gabe knew the list would backfire the moment Stephen started making it. He even told Stephen as much, but Stephen just shrugged a shoulder and kept working on it. He got into it as it grew too, enjoying it so much that Gabe told himself he was probably worrying about nothing.

And maybe the list wouldn’t have been a problem if the only person he’d told about it was Gabe. Probably would have been fine even if knowledge of it extended to the Marksons and Petersens, which happened sooner rather than later.

But telling Gabe’s teammates — that was a mistake.

“A what list?” Jared asks when Stephen first mentions it.

“An anti-wedding list,” Stephen says.

Bryce sits up. “You guys aren’t getting married?”

From this angle, Gabe can’t see how withering the look Stephen gives Bryce is, but the kick Jared aims at his ankle is probably related.

“Obviously we’re getting married,” Stephen says, like he wasn’t panicking for a good few days after they got engaged, and only the potential wrath of Miriam Markson kept him from fleeing on the next flight out of Vancouver. “It’s a list of shit we don’t want at our wedding.”

“Um,” Bryce says.

“You know,” Stephen says. “The wedding traditions we’re vetoing.”

“We is such a strong word,” Gabe says.

“Unanimous approval or none at all, Gabriel,” Stephen says. "A veto only needs one."

He's right. And Gabe guesses he would know, consdiering he's the one vetoing everything.

“So wait, what exactly are you vetoing?” Jared says.

“Nobody’s wearing white,” Stephen says, starting to tick items off on his fingers. “I mean, white dress shirts are fine, obviously, but nobody’s a virgin here, we’re not doing any all in white shit. No flower girls or ring bearers. No little groom cake toppers. Fuck knows there aren’t going to be any garters involved. I don’t remember the rest off the top of my head, but I have it all written down."

“I like the little grooms,” Bryce says, sounding hurt. Gabe hasn’t seen any pictures from Bryce and Jared’s wedding, since it was very much on the down-low — and he truly wishes he could see how those two managed to put together a wedding on the sly when they couldn't even sit across from each other without Gabe figuring out they were married — but he bets there were little grooms on top of their cake. He also bets Bryce still has those little dudes hanging around somewhere.

“Can I see the list?” Jared asks. “I’m kind of curious how many our wedding had.”

“Sure,” Stephen says, with a hand wave. “I’ll email it to you when I’m finished. Have a few more items to add first.”

“Cool,” Jared says.

After Bryce and Jared leave, Gabe mentions it might not be a good idea to send Jared the list, but Stephen just scoffs.

“What’s he going to do?” Stephen says. “Wear white to my wedding? Put little grooms on his piece of cake? He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s not going to anything that actually fucks with the day, he’s not Dmitry.”

“Our wedding,” Gabe says.

“Oh come on, you already know what’s mine is yours,” Stephen says.

“You stabbed me with a chopstick over the last soup dumpling last night,” Gabe says.

“Stop saying I stabbed you,” Stephen says. “I didn’t even break the skin.”

“It hurt,” Gabe says, and Stephen takes his hand, planting an officious kiss on the back of it.

“Better?” Stephen asks.

“It was the other hand,” Gabe says, smiling when Stephen sighs dramatically before kissing it too.

“You’re really going to give Math that list?” Gabe says. “Blind trust isn’t usually your thing.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll lead to something hideous,” Stephen says. “But think of it this way: your idiot teammates are going to do something, so I may as well give them some parameters.”

“Huh,” Gabe says. “Good point.”

“I’m not exactly new to this, you know,” Stephen says.

“No, I know,” Gabe says.

At least whatever it is that’s coming, it won’t come out of the blue.

~

Gabe did not foresee this. Sure, when he gave Stevie and Dima and Bullet bachelor party planning rights he anticipated some variety of disaster, but he underestimated them, he thinks. Or overestimated them. There was some mis-estimation occurring.

He looks around. What initially looked like chaos seems oddly recognisable. Almost familiar.

It’s sort of wedding themed, which makes sense, considering the occasion, but everything’s slightly off, and not just because they’re in a venue more suited to clubbing than matrimony.

His eyes land on the big cake at the centre of everything. It looks more like the kind Gabe saw at Cup celebrations than a wedding one, decorated to look like a rink, with two little figures at centre ice. He’s too far to see the details, but he’s pretty sure they’re hockey figurines rather than grooms, and someone has decided to use the manipulable joints for, well, evil probably isn’t the right word, but maybe immaturity — Gabe’s pretty sure one of them is straddling the other. He guesses he should just be grateful no mounting is taking place, considering Dima’s probably the responsible party.

There are so many elements, and they don’t seem to fit together at all — elegant baskets of flowers that look almost painstakingly put together, surrounded by a scatter of rainbow confetti that feels like it's moonlighting from a completely different event. Some kind of crooner — Bublé? — playing, also from a completely different event. None of it seems to fit Gabe's picture of a bachelor party planned and attended by hockey players, even if the wives and girlfriends present also got involved in the planning.

It’s the guests themselves that help Gabe put it together. There was clearly a dress code, one that only Gabe and Stephen weren’t informed about, everyone all in white, neon bright under the black light. Like an item of a list come to life. Like one of many items of a list come to life.

He can see Stephen put it together a mere moment after he does, his eyes narrowing, mouth going flat. Playing at unimpressed for the — many — eyes currently on them, avidly waiting for a reaction.

“I’m going to fucking kill Jared,” Stephen says, and Gabe decides not to tell him just how proud he sounds.

“I wonder which one of the Canucks is wearing the garter,” Gabe says, and grins when Stephen forgets his audience and his composure for a moment, throwing his head back with a laugh.

#fic snippet #gabe markson #stephen petersen #jared matheson #bryce marcus #dmitry kurmazov

[pandorasfavorite]

okay so i had some ideas and idk if you've done them already, but yeah

-reader meets dom in a bar/club/something like that and yk (also grinding while dancing bc ughhhh) (smut???)

-taking care of drunk dom/dom taking care of drunk reader (fluff)

-police!reader/prisoner!dom (smut, can be roleplay) (sub!dom btw) also handcuffs>>>

Wasted or Barely Drunk?

You felt alive and at the peak of your happiness. Dominik told you he was going to stay sober while you celebrated with the rest of Judgment Day for an incredible win. You felt guilty for not being the designated sober person, considering Dominik deserved to celebrate just as much. But the first sip of your margarita changed your mind, any worry vanished. You were a happy drunk through and through, but also an extroverted drunk. You sipped down many drinks and joked around with friends for 30 minutes before your mind wandered to more appealing ideas. And the group only followed your every footstep. Now while you were dancing and waving at your friends (who were right beside you), Dominik held you by the waist. His hands kept you upright each time you had absent-mindlessly stumbled to the left without knowing. You swayed in his arms and raised an arm above your head as you danced, dragging your body down his when the beat slowed down.

His hands accidentally slipped from your waist when you danced to the beat, and his head dropped to watch you go from the floor up. And all the way up to where your back was flush against his chest again. Dominik blows out a breath and averts his gaze from you, in an attempt to collect himself, but he is brought back by you stumbling towards the bar again. You crash against the bar and you lean forward with a dazey smile, thinking of the now sweet taste of alcohol on your lips and the thoughts trickling through your mind. In your time waiting for the bartender your mind wandered to where Dominik was, and why he wasn't beside you. Only to realize he was when he waved off the bartender when he got close.

You turned your head to look up at him with parted lips, your glossy eyes piercing a hole through Dominik. "Why'd ya do that?", you slur and lean towards him while talking, wobbly jamming your finger into his chest. Dominik wraps his hand around your finger and uses his other hand to wrap around your back and have you stumble closer to him. "You don't need any more", he replies and rubs the bottom of your back where he is holding you. You puff out your cheeks and look at Dominik's face, you could make out his face but nothing behind him. The rest was fuzzy, especially considering it took your eyes a few moments to catch up with how fast you swiveled your head. "jus- because you're cute, does notttttt mean you can take my drink SiR~", you take an approaching step towards him but you fall face forward into Dominik's chest with a grunt.

Dominik smiles and raises an eyebrow at you as if he has proven you wrong. You cross your arms, bumping them into his chest, "m' not even drunk" you slurred again. "Mami you are wasted", he laughs lightly and uses his other hand to touch your face. It was a pastime to occupy his hands, one of his favorite things to do while you were in front of him. Your eyes squint and you frown, "waste" you repeat back. Dominik caught onto what you were thinking the instant you spoke. He moves his hands and uses both of them to hold the sides of your face. He kisses your face all over, pulling back with a popping sound each time, "I meant you're really drunk baby, I'd never call you that sweet girl". You lighten up instantly, getting on the tips of your toes to kiss his lips. But you sorely miss, only kiss his chin, you giggled but Dominik was pouting to himself. He pulled your face up to his and properly had you kiss him, it was messy and uncoordinated and you tasted of alcohol but it was a kiss to remember.

When he pulled back you looked dazed but happy. Lost in a trance and mesmerized by the man in front of you. "Let's go home, how's that sound hmm?", Dominik kisses the top of your head sweetly. You nod and you brighten up instantly, turning around, his hands falling from your face as a result. And you are walking towards the dance floor like a fly to the light, with Dominik grinning and following behind you.

#dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio x you #dominik mysterio fanfiction #dom dom #dominik mysterio fluff #dominik my bbg #wwe

[nekkomaa]

Warnings: Violence, inappropriate language, manipulation, toxic relationships.

Notes: I'm really surprised that I managed to write another chapter in such a short space of time. I hope this cheers you up a bit! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!

I'd love to know if you'd prefer a protagonist with a name, or a “reader” protagonist

Portuguese version published on Wattpad

Word count: 2038

“You know I love you very much, don't you, darling?” David smiles at you, a venomous smile, his gaze containing a silent threat, daring you to do something wrong while he's away.

“I know. I love you too.” You answer, it's disgusting to have to say it, you've hesitated many times before, but you knew the hard way that it was better to go with the flow of things, to let things go his way. Here, you're nothing. “Come back safe.” You say, as he waves to you and walks through the front door. Secretly you wish he'd never come back.

“I'll be back soon.” He replies, his voice muffled as the door closes.

You don't move, not until you stop listening to the sound of the car's tires against the gravel. Letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, you move towards the bedroom. You'd go back to sleep, it was late and you didn't even like the idea of playing the good wife and saying goodbye. At this point you were in an internal struggle, not knowing what to feel, but at the same time you felt nothing, you felt hatred for him.

You climb the steps slowly, the darkness of the house becomes gloomy, as you face the large corridor that extends to the end of the stairs, you take a moment to look at the white door at the end of the corridor, you think about trying to open it in a moment of courage, he wasn't home, he couldn't stop you from opening the door.

You give up when you remember that the door would obviously be locked, David wasn't stupid, he knew that someone could try to open the door while he was away, whether it was you or the maid.

Opening the bedroom door, you are surprised by a cold wind coming from the window, a strange feeling of fear and doubt comes over you. You're sure that when you left the room, the window was closed, as was the whole house. With hesitant steps you walk to the window, there is no light except the new moon shining outside. When you reach the window, you feel your body shiver, the sensation of being watched passes through you for a moment, you look down cautiously and discover that the guard who is always at the door is passed out and tied up in front of the jeep they use for work.

Your heart races, you hear his pulse in your ear, you're stunned for a moment, not knowing whether to take the opportunity to flee, or whether you should hide, someone has passed out the guard and tied him up, just when David isn't at home, and by chance the window is open, your window.

Your thoughts are racing, you know there's someone in the house with you, but how did he get in so quickly? David left a few seconds ago, could you have wasted more than half an hour just climbing the stairs?

With a quick breath you feel the need to look for any kind of weapon to defend yourself, whoever got in here certainly wouldn't spare your life. You look next to you, a tacky lamp is there, and next to it a medium-sized plant pot, you grab it without thinking too much, as you turn back you squint your eyes trying to see into the partially lit room, you notice something moving towards you and you don't hesitate to throw the pot in its direction.

You can see the silhouette of a person, the vase hits them and falls to the floor, apparently it didn't even have an effect, you're not sure where you hit it, but you knew that if you didn't hit a vital part you were screwed.

He kept advancing, the black shadow was fast, you dodged by reflex when you hit him the first thing you saw, a pillow was thrown and distracted him long enough for you to run towards the door. Panic filled your veins, you would be killed, you would die living a dull life shrouded in panic.

Anger fills your senses, you hate it all, you hate David, you hate this house, you hate looking in the mirror and seeing a shell of what you were with each passing day, you hate yourself.

You can only hear your quick steps towards the kitchen, you only hear the rustle of clothes behind you, whatever is chasing you moves like a ghost.

The sharp turn you make at the door seems to delay your pursuer by a few seconds, giving you time to grab the first pan you see in front of you to defend yourself, the kitchen is brighter than your bedroom thanks to the large windows it has, you can see what's chasing you as soon as you turn back, But you didn't even have time to register what it looked like, as in the blink of an eye he was inches away from you with something in his hand, without wasting any time you hit the pan on his hand and then on what you thought was his head, the sound of the pan hitting echoed in the empty house.

Your luck seemed to run out the moment that pot hit his head. You felt your throat tighten immediately afterwards, the air being cut from your lungs.

You could take a closer look at what was chasing you now, unfortunately it was in the worst way, and not with the chaser passed out from the pan.

Everything was incredibly black except for the white skull staring at you in the dark, you couldn't see the eyes through the holes, but you could feel them piercing you. The tightness in your throat loosened slightly as soon as he saw that you weren't squirming. The pan that had been in your hand was forgotten on the floor, the counter behind you was clean, there were no weapons to use, if you wanted to get out alive, you had to be smart.

Anger and fear were strongly intertwined with each other, but anger in a fragile body like yours wouldn't solve anything. Fear, however, only served to make you soft, the survival instinct seemed to work the other way around, telling you to stay still, as if your predator couldn't see you, as if your predator didn't have his hand on your throat.

“What…” Your voice comes out lower and shakier than you first intended, but you continue anyway. “What do you want from me?” The man in front of you brings his second hand into your field of vision, the knife glinting on the moon, his body trembling with anticipatory fear. He realizes this and lowers the knife until it is facing his face.

“No funny business, okay?” He says to you and carefully releases you, his gloved hand moves away from your neck and he signals for you to remain silent. You just nod back. There were no loopholes to escape, so collaborating at the moment seemed the right thing to do.

He ties your wrists together in front of you and uses them to guide you into the room where he entered. He sits you on the bed and faces you. He seemed big before, but now, this was much more than you first thought. That made it worse, he seemed much more indimidating with her.

“You're going to tell me what I want to know, if you lie, I'll take action.” He remains where he is staring at you for a while longer before signaling for you to speak. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” His voice remains low, he doesn't seem to care, anyway, even if you were completely hysterical screaming and calling for help, no one would come, he's passed out the only guard in the house, and in the place where you live, so far away from everything, it's obvious that no one would ever hear you.

“Where's your husband? Where did he go?” His voice was harsh, to the point. He seemed out of patience.

“I-I… don't know” His voice faltered, he took it as a lie. The knife from before soon came into view again, he twirled it between his fingers like a threat.

“I'm sure we fought before, didn't we? No lies, or should I make it clear that I'm armed?” His voice showed a lack of patience, and you certainly wouldn't want to test his patience.

“I swear.” You tried again.

“Little thing, if you're going to lie you should try to be more convincing, anyone swears. Now tell the truth, where is your shitty little husband?” He takes a step closer, the knife still twirling between his fingers. The movement would be mesmerizing if it weren't for this situation. “Aren't you going to tell me that a good wife like you doesn't know where her husband is?” He teases, his voice now sounding sweet, a hint of amusement in it.

“I don't know where he is! You have to believe me!” You beg as he comes closer, the knife threatening you with every move.

“And why would I believe you, darling? As far as I know you're just pretending you don't know anything just to get your husband's fat ass off the hook.” The knife hovers inches from your neck, you swear you can feel the cold steel.

“I don't know who you are or what you want but if it's money or some kind of information I'm sorry you're talking to the wrong person!” You speak quickly, despair coursing through your veins, you're going to end up dead, and you haven't even had a chance to leave this place.

“You have to know something. He's not keeping you here for free.” He comes close to your ear. “Even if you are his pet, it's impossible that you don't know anything.” He steps back and watches your reaction.

Swallowing dryly, you remember the room at the end of the corridor, the place you never entered. “There is, there's a room at the end of the corridor.” You stutter as the knife lightly grazes your neck, stinging as he moves away from you.

“Yes? And what's in the room?” He asks.

“All the letters he receives are there, if there's any kind of information it's there.” You reply, the man seems satisfied with your answer.

“I said you knew something.” He comments, his voice now more amused, something like a mockery of I knew it! “You're coming with me.” He pulls you up and leads you into the hallway. The white door at the end faces you, you hope to escape from this house as soon as this man leaves with whatever he's looking for, if you stay, and David comes back, you're sure to be dead.

The man turns the handle and the door doesn't move. He snorts in annoyance and pushes you behind him.

“I don't have the key.” You say as soon as he pushes you back.

“Well, I never said I needed one.” He replies quickly. You watch him step away from the door and kick it, the door opens on the second kick and soon he's pulling you into the room with him.

“I told you what I know, you're going to let me go… right?” The uncertainty in his voice is palpable, you wince as he throws you a look. With the light in the room now, you can see his eyes. A deep brown stares back at you, if before he was intimidating even without seeing you properly, imagine now that those eyes pierce right through to your soul from across the room.

“I don't usually leave witnesses, you little thing.” That's the only thing he says to you.

Credits for the mask used in the second image: @Mcmorthern on twitter.

If you are the owner of the image and want it removed, please contact me!

#call of duty #cod x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost cod

[vergilthelibrarian]

In God's Name, pt.2

Part 1

It’s been about a month since seeing God. I was still much too afraid to say his name, to even think it.

I was told as a child to never utter his name. I thought it was silly yet even before I saw him, I never said his name. I guess despite my thoughts, a part of me took it seriously. Seriously enough to never even whisper his name.

But seeing as just saying his name made him appear… I understood why we were warned so much.

I looked out my window as I washed the dishes, hearing the sounds children playing along with the rustling of the trees. The sun shone bright in the blue sky which appeared to clear.

It looked beautiful.

“Shit!” I gasped, dropping the knife I was washing. I grabbed my hand, wincing slightly as I looked at the blood that oozed out of my cut. I turned on the water of the faucet, letting the water run over my hands. I turned off the faucet, looking at the cut and seeing that it was small.

I went to the bathroom, cleaning the cut and covered it with a band-aid.

I sighed, staring down at the bathroom sink, my hands gripping the sides, lost in thought.

Ever since seeing the day, I’ve been spacing out. I’ve always had issues with spacing out, I would often get scold for it as a child during service, but this felt different.

I would think back to him. To his blue eyes. There was something about them that I couldn’t stop thinking about. They were piercing and intense, I couldn’t help but think he saw into my very soul when we made eye contact.

I truly believe he did.

Gulping, I looked up into the bathroom mirror, studying my features for a moment.

I’ve been trying my best to forget about that day. What I did was wrong, and I knew when I eventually go back to church, I will be punished, but it was hard to forget.

Sighing once more, I walked out of the bathroom, planning to finish washing the dishes when a knock at my door caught my attention.

I stopped in my tracks, blinking, and changed course to the front door.

Looking through the peephole, I saw Sufia standing at my doorstep with a worried look on her face.

I opened the door.

“Hey Sufia. What are you doing here?” I asked.

“You’re wanted at the church. They didn’t tell me why, but they said that they need you to come immediately.”

Sufia, just like me, would always question God. Why worship a God that needs to be feared, etc. We always got in trouble at the orphanage for questioning God and his love. She was much more fearless though.

Sufia was quiet for a moment.

“Did you see something?” and I knew exactly what she was asking me.

Did I say God’s name.

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell you that.” but that in itself was the conformation she needed.

“Let me walk with you.”

The walk to the church was silent. Me and Sufia were close. We were the odd ones out in the orphanage just from how much we would question what we were told. Compared to me, she was much more bold. More outspoken while I was more timid. I would get picked on for being meek by the other kids and Sufia would always come to my rescue like a knight in mud covered armor.

We soon arrived at the church, and I felt my heartbeat pick up slightly.

There were 2 priests who seemed to have been waiting for me outside.

I hesitated walking through the gate entrance.

What was going to happen? Were they going to kill me? Sacrifice me in the name of God? I was beyond terrified.

With a shaky breath, I walked through, Sufia right beside me. I walked up the stairs and one of the priests gave me a warm smile.

“I’m glad you came.” He glanced at Sufia, not outright telling her she needed to leave but silently telling her too.

“I’ll… I’ll go.” Sufia touched my shoulder and gave me a small smile before leaving me alone with the 2 priests.

“As I said before, I’m glad you came.” I turned my attention to the priest.

“I’m sure you know why you needed to come…” I nodded, looking away slightly. “Well, I have something wonderful to tell you. We should go inside; we don’t need anyone else to listening.” He said in a hush tone.

The 2 priests and I walked along the outside corridor to one of the small chapels. The talkative priest led me to one of the pews, taking a sit next to me when I sat down. The silent priest closed the door, locking it.

“As I said, I have something wonderful to tell you.” The priest smiled at me.

“Well, what is it?” I asked.

“God wants to take you as his partner.”

I leaned back in shock. I blinked.

“What? Why?” I didn’t like the idea of being the partner to a God, especially considering a God that, in all honesty, I didn’t see the point in worshiping.

“We are not sure.” He said, with a puzzled look on his face. “But he told us he wishes to take you as his.”

“W-what if I say no?” I questioned with a slight stutter.

The priest sighed. “You know you can’t go against God. He’ll punish all of us, you know that.”

I took in a deep breath, trying to stop my body from shaking as much but it was rather difficult.

“All you need to do is say his name.”

The silent priest came over, tapping his colleague on the shoulder. I noticed that the silent priest was the young one that I saw who was being initiated into the priesthood.

The talkative priest looked at me and gave me a gentle smile, but his eyes were slightly sad, like as if he was sorry for me. His hand went on top of mine, and he gave it a comforting squeeze before getting up and leaving with the silent priest through a small door, leaving me alone in the small chapel.

I stared down at the pew, cursing at my curiosity for putting me in such a situation.

I could get up and leave. Nothing was stopping me, but I knew how wrong it would be for me to do that. Our God was an angry God and from the stories in our sacred text, he was downright unforgiving and merciless.

I ran a hand through my hair, sighing, before looking up at the wooden statue of God. There were flowers before it and adorn it. Sunlight shone on the statue in such a way that you could teel that this was a statue of a deity.

Despite my questionings and my not so devoted worship, I’ve always loved this statue. This was the only one that we had that depicted him in a human form. The statue was pretty old, and the nuns here usually did their best to do the upkeep, making sure it didn’t fall apart from age. The statue itself was made of rosewood and it showed him with a piercing gaze.

As a child, I would come here and help the nuns clean up the chapel and help with the upkeep of the statue. But I would also come here to talk to the statue about my day, my worries and fears, my dreams and nightmares. As I got older though, I started coming to this little chapel less. Maybe it was because by then, I was busy with college, something that Lady Maria was against, telling me to become a nun instead.

I took out my rosary and rubbed wooden beads for comfort.

The feeling of nervousness was crawling up my back and it felt as though someone was watching me. I looked around, my eyes meeting every empty corner of the small chapel.

It was only me and the statue here.

I let out a shaky breath, looking back at the statue.

It looked exactly like him, perhaps a bit younger, but I knew that this really was the face of God.

I gulped and whispered, “Vergil.”

There was stillness in the room that became more apparent when I said his name. It was as though time stood still and I hated the feeling that stillness brought me. It was unnerving.

“I see you came.” a smooth voice entered my ears, and I turned my head to see where it came from. I met his eyes, my breath becoming caught in my throat. His face didn’t hold much emotion as he walked over to me from the side of the room, a sword in his hand, taking a seat next to me and faced ahead, looking at the statue that stood before us.

My hands felt clammy, and my heart was beating slightly fast. My grip on my rosary tightened.

Why was I scared? Was it because I was scared of being punished by God for not being a devoted follower? For Questioning him and his commandments? Or was there something else I was afraid of?

God slowly turned his head to me. “Though I don’t mind the fear, you are the last person I wish to fear me…” His voice was quiet, it was if he didn’t want anyone else but me to hear what he just said.

I didn’t know that to say, and he could tell. He turned his head away, his piercing gaze leaving me.

We sat in silence for a bit, I don’t know how long exactly, but the longer we sat in the silence, the less my nerves were on edge and the more relaxed I became. My heart was beating as fast anymore and though my hands were still a bit clammy, the rosary in my hands became less tight.

“Are you calm now?” he asked, his tone soft as he looked at me once more. I nodded to his question.

“Good. As I said, you’re the last person I wish to fear me.” once again, his voice was quiet.

“What… do you want with me?” my voice was quiet as well, but it was more so out of the small bit of anxiousness I still had.

He hummed at my question, closing his eyes as he did as he gathered his thoughts together.

“If you want me to be honest, there’s two reasons. One of them is rather… pathetic.” He began, opening his eyes. “I could just tell you only one of the reasons. That reason being that I want you to become my most devoted follower. To never doubt the power, strength, and wisdom I obtained for over the years I’ve lived. To have you so devoted that you would lay your life for me without a second thought.”

He stopped, closing his eyes again, sighing. “But then I would not be truly honest with you.” He said, opening his eyes once more. “The other reason… The reason I see to be as weak…” he hesitated. It seemed like he didn’t want to say it. “It is because I wish to not be alone…” his tone was hush.

I was shocked by his words, but I guess even a God becomes lonely sometimes…

“But why me?”

“I would hear you when you would come here and talk. At first, I was annoyed but… I grew attached to your visits.” He looked away again and slightly turned his head up. “You started coming less until you stopped coming entirely, only going to mass.” He chuckled, before looking back at me with a slight smile. “I became rather bitter that you weren’t giving me attention anymore.

“Seeing you again… snapped something in me. It made me realize that I am much more human than I’d like to admit and that I want your attention again… but I want that attention to be only for me.” He whispered.

I felt flustered by his words. To be wanted by God wasn’t a rare occurrence, but I never expected to ever be in that occurrence.

“Come o’re the eastern hills, and let our winds kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.”

I couldn’t stop my heart from fluttering from the poem he had recited. His poem told me everything he seemed to have difficulty explaining.

He was in love with me.

The chapel was silent once more, the only sound that could be heard were the birds chirping.

“My God… I…” I didn’t know what to say.

He hummed. “I would like it if you called me by my name.”

I gulped, taken aback by his request but I nodded slightly.

“It’s okay to not know how to feel. I know how you feel about me. I don’t expect you to throw yourself to me yet.” He Vergil said. “It’s a lot to take in… but understand this, my patience is only so thick.”

Vergil leaned in close to me, his nose brushing against mine lightly and I moved back, my cheeks warming from the action.

“Don’t keep me waiting long.” His tone was serious and slightly harsh.

It was a warning.

And a warning from a God was something serious.

The back of Vergil’s hand soon caressed my cheek, causing me to become more flustered than I already was.

His touch was chaste, shy, like as if he was unsure of how to show whatever emotion he was feeling at the moment, a contrast to the words that had just left his lips.

“I’ll be waiting.” There was a softness in his eyes as he said those words, the slight harshness leaving his voice and the quiet, gentleness returning.

He then got up, walking back to where I first saw and opened a portal with his sword. He walked through it and once again, it was only me and the statue in the small chapel.

I could not explain the emotion I was feeling. My mind was blank yet running with so many thoughts that I was glad I was sitting down as I would probably faint. I felt my face, feeling how warm it was and I placed my hand on my chest, wishing my heart would stop leaping whenever his face popped into my mind. Whenever his smooth voice would enter my mind once more.

I wasn’t sure what I was feeling yet but I knew that I needed to figure out what I was feeling before I met Vergil again.

Whether the meeting will be of my own choosing is something I will only know in the future.

#i wrote in first person because i didn't remember if i wrote in first person or not #but i liked how it sound in first person so i kept it that way #i was listening to sweet love by anita baker on repeat while writing at some point lol #i feel like this is a bit rushed at the end but yeah #try to find the full william blake poem i used in this #dmc x reader #devil may cry x reader #vergil x reader #vergil sparda x reader #vergil x male reader #vergil sparda x male reader

[thursdayg1rl]

lmao just remembered my friends joking abt how I can buy the alcohol for them next year...

#like if you think I will still be willingly socialising w you in one years time I dont know what to tell you #honeslty thinking abt it more yeah I cant deny that birthday party was saurr shit #like genuinely WHAT the fuck #so first 3 of them stayed in school for like 2 hours to do an English booster like 🧍🏽‍♀️ are you serious?? #where do I even begin w that. as if its going to do anything now? also on the day you planned a party for someone?????? #so I was only at the party for 2 ish hours bcz of that #and in the meantime the rest of us went to the park and did nothing and they just started talking abt death and grief and stuff and I was j #like ok in front of the girl whos mother died. on her birthday. like ok interesting #and while all this was happening I was carrying a box the whole time w their presents and literally no one helped me 🚶🏽‍♂️ #that sounds stupid like yeah ik its my gifts but you could at least HELP #so then we had to walk all the way to my friends house and the entire time I was the one person walking at the back w no one to talk to #and we got there and it was so awkward they kept talking abt stuff I had no idea abt #like oh remember how we did x or y and I was like. I am just sitting here #kind of wish that id just said I cant go so I didnt have to realise how much of an outsider I am in my own friend group #this sucks so much I just want ONE real friend like please god #hate it here

[prickly-paprikash]

Pushing aside the fact that I am, quite possibly, a Kendrick fan—disregarding my biases, I think Drake needs to stop. Push Ups was a good diss. Surface level, vapid, but it possessed that mean, petty spirit that carries a diss track all the way. Even bringing up accusations that are, realistically speaking, unlikely still works because a diss is supposed to show just how much you hate a person and how cleverly you can bring it.

Taylor Made was weird. I get that it was a strategy. Drop the main diss first and then drop this one to really prod at Kendrick. Using Pac and Snoop AI voices sucks though. Distilling Kendrick as Taylor's underling also doesn't work because Kendrick only collaborated with her once (twice when they remade Bad Blood) and that's it. Meanwhile Drake is out here always looking for new, up and coming artists to pounce on their trends or cling to established artists. Then it got taken down, because of course it would have been. You used 2Pac's voice. Did you really think his estate, his family, wouldn't do anything?

So he bought Pac's ring and used his voice without permission. More and more we see just how much of a vulture Drake is.

And then Euphoria drops.

Your first diss was met with solid reactions. Your second got taken down. Kendrick drops on a random hot Tuesday, and in a matter of hours surpasses your numbers that took weeks to accumulate. Kendrick did that. Euphoria was also harsh, clever, and sounded so good that people kept replaying it over and over again. Once more, Kendrick schools you.

A few insiders then say that Drake will drop that night. Right after. But he then allegedly gets cold feet. A few hours later from when Drake was supposedly ready to drop but backs out, Kendrick drops 6:16 in LA.

In your previous disses, you begged Kendrick to drop something with quintuple entendres. Euphoria did that. But he took it a step further by naming his second diss 6:16 in LA.

June 16: Father's day. Referencing the fact that Drake has been proven to be a deadbeat father.

June 16, 1971: Tupac's Birthday. Kendrick idolizes him. Drake steals from him.

June 16, 2019: First episode of Euphoria drops. A show Drake is listed as a producer on. A show about underage girls entering a life of sex, substance abuse, and more. Things that Drake has been accused of repeatedly in the past.

June 16, 2011: in June 2, 2011, Kendrick posted on his twitter that there will be a concert at Toronto on 6/16. Allegedly this is where Drake and Kendrick first met.

6:16 AM: The time of release for this track.

6:16: Multiple possible Bible verses, given Kendrick's Christian background.

Other claims felt like reaches though, so I'll stick to that.

The final two lines of 6:16 also reference the Michael Jackson, R. Kelly, and their song "You Are Not Alone". Drake, who has always claimed he is Michael Jackson or at the very least his equal/successor, is now tied to him in a way he does not want. Because we know all of the dirt that came out after MJ's death. We all know what R. Kelly was sent to prison for. And we all know what Drake has been accused of multiple times.

Kendrick also alludes to the fact that you have a leak in your circle, Drake.

So Drake drops Family Matters. A scathing 7 minute song that makes fun of the GKMC van. Saying that Kendrick's daughter isn't his. Saying that his wife cheats on him with security. Saying that he beats his wife.

Now, these are enormous accusations levied. But Kendrick has responded before, years ago, that the DV accusations were false. He has also always been open about his faults. Adultery. Sex addiction. Insecurity. God complex. Kendrick, for better or worse, has always laid out nearly every aspect of his younger life on his songs. This also helped by the fact that in both Euphoria and 6:16, Kendrick says that Drake has spent millions on finding dirt on him but came up with nothing. Again, these accusations can still be proven true and if so, Kendrick needs to be held accountable for them.

But if not? Then Drake just adds another to the pile of "He's a liar and a master manipulator."

Drake also posts a Parody on his Insta that gains little to no attention because 30 minutes after dropping Family Matters and supposedly going on his victory lap, Kendrick drops meet the grahams.

Another thing. 6:16's cover was a glove. That meant nothing to us, the audience. meet the grahams makes it make sense by zooming out of the glove and showing off a shirt and drugs that Drake supposedly uses. Drake has not had any receipts with his accusations against Kendrick. Kendrick puts Drake's supposed prescription, his full name, on a bottle of Ozempic. Kendrick, for now, seems to make good on his threat. OvO, Drake's company, is full of leaks. And they're leaking it straight to Kendrick Lamar.

Nearly 24 hours later, Kendrick drops Not Like Us.

Euphoria was a general character dissection and assassination of Drake: Insecure about his identity as a biracial man. Culture Vulture. Blaccent user. Code switcher. Fake abs. Womanizer. Misogynist. Using black features just to feel black enough. A deadbeat dad that knows nothing of raising a child. And even revokes Drake's ability to use the N-Word (I have no stake in that I am Asian so I will keep my brown mouth shut for that).

6:16 in LA was an ominous threat that slowly reveals that Kendrick has insider information on Drake. That he is ready to leak so much more should Drake continue.

meet the grahams is a brutal open letter to Drake, his parents, and even to Adonis, Drake's son. Saying that Kendrick could be a better mentor to Adonis. Saying that Drake abandoned you and that's not your fault. Don't be like your father—whatever anyone says, for better or worse, you are a black man and don't code switch just to make yourself feel better. He says that Drake failed his mother for what he did to women. Saying that Drake's father is the cause of his gambling issues. Drake is a body shamer. Leaving the mother of his children to rot. And of course, the reveal that Drake has a secret daughter, the same way Pusha T revealed Drake has a son. Adonis.

And of course, now. Not Like Us. Where Kendrick goes all in on one topic that he has alluded to in every diss track before. Drake is a groomer. A pedophile.

I am sick. I should not be tuning into this beef. But my fever can go ahead and end me, I need to know how this ends.

#kendrick lamar #drake #music #hip hop

[teamatsumu]

purple and pink. (rafayel x reader)

summary: you and rafayel cover yourselves in paint and (redacted).

word count: 3450

warnings: porn without plot, smut, swearing, nsfw, mdni, fem!reader

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

a/n: my brain is rotting for this man so this is just self indulgent crap atp

You weren’t exactly an artistic person.

You just never indulged in art before. Of course, you admired the craft and thought it was extremely difficult to actually create meaningful art. But you didn’t think you were a particularly creative person, nor did you think you had an eye for such stuff.

Ever since you began dating Rafayel, you would say your appreciation for art had definitely improved. How could it not, considering he spent all day creating it, and in the time he wasn’t, his world was still colored by the lens of it. Rafayel saw art everywhere he went, in the gentle roll of the water where it rippled in fountains, or the timid but pinpoint light of a lone star in a dark sky. He loved describing it to you, and the way he put it would make you look around twice. He had really changed the way you viewed the world.

What you were about to do now wasn’t exactly the kind of art that made you think deeply of the universe, but hey, not all art can make you question your existence. Sometimes you need to create….. lighter pieces.

Stepping back, you stared down at the bed sheet sized canvas you had stuck to the floor, sure that you had used enough adhesive to keep it temporarily in place. The clock on the far wall of the studio told you that Rafayel would be home in a little while, which meant you needed to start the next phase of your plan shortly. But first things first, you needed lighter clothes.

After you had switched your jeans and button down shirt for a thin, short robe, you began pulling down buckets of paint from the storage closet connecting to the main studio. You chose only two, a light purple and a light pink. Both colors you knew Rafayel liked using in his pieces. You might not know a whole lot about art, but you knew him inside out. And you also knew he would love this idea.

You spent the next few minutes going over the canvas with the two buckets, pouring a few globs of paint over it. Small, but dense, with lots of blank canvas around them so they could be spread. You decided to only do two or three globs of each color. After all, wasn’t the art in how the colors would move and slide on the canvas? This should be enough paint for that purpose.

Your face was heating up at the thought of what was about to happen, and you felt almost giddy. When was he going to be home? You couldn’t wait to get started.

As if on cue, the door of the studio clicked open, not making a single sound as your boyfriend lumbered in, closing the door behind him. His white shirt was loose, black pants tight, and you couldn’t help but admire his ass when he turned around to shut the door with a light snap.

“Hey-” He stopped almost immediately upon seeing you, eyeing the half empty paint can you were setting down and the flimsy robe covering your body. A body that was definitely naked under it.

“What are you doing?” You saw his eyes flick over you and then behind to eye the massive canvas you had laid out, along with the little circles of paint looking fresh and shiny on it. You gave him a grin.

“I was hoping we could collaborate for your next piece.” You tugged at his shirt until you both stood closer to the canvas, taking special joy in how confused he looked. His eyes kept darting all over the place to try and make sense of what was going on, and you had to stifle a giggle.

You thought to elaborate on your suggestion by slowly unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. Rafayel raised his eyebrows but didn’t stop you, probably curious to see what you were cooking. You tugged his shirt off his toned shoulders, before going to work on his pants. His hand finally seized yours, tilting his head so your eyes would meet his.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” His tone was amused. You hummed almost in thought, pulling your hand away. You tugged on the belt of your robe until it slipped free, and the front fell open. You saw the tips of Rafayel’s ears turn red, and his expression blanked a bit.

“You have paint. You have a canvas. And you have me.” Your voice was a low whisper. You reached into the bucket next to you, palms stretched, until they were both covered in paint. Then you reached one hand up and dragged your fingertips over his bare abs.

The cool paint made them contract a bit, and you heard the way his breath hitched under the touch. Four long streaks of pink now stood out against his pale skin. Finally, you looked back up to meet his gaze, his face inches from yours.

Rafayel’s blush had extended from his ears down to his neck, but the corner of his lip twitched up into a slow grin. His hands were eager as he undid the button of his pants, and you felt a thrill run up your spine. You watched him undress quickly. He was slow, smooth, as he lifted one precise hand to tug on the shoulder of your loose robe until it was falling off your shoulders and pooling at your feet.

He looked around and his eyes caught the second can of paint. Purple. He dipped his hands into it, and you watched him walk back over to you.

“Where did you get this idea, baby?” His voice had lost its confusion, coated in honey now, sultry and low, nearly a whisper, and you shivered when his breath hit your bare neck. He took advantage of the fact that your hair was pulled up and away from your shoulders, tracing gentle lips over the slope of your shoulder. Instinctively, your hands smoothed over his torso, and you were reminded of the paint on them, still wet, now swiped onto the man before you.

Rafayel hummed at the feeling and proceeded to return the favor, his hands set on your hips. The paint was cool on your skin, and you almost jumped at the temperature if it weren’t for his warm hands taking the feeling away in the next second. Your boyfriend gave your naked bodies a gentle tug backwards until you were stepping on paper, slight crinkling noises hitting your ears.

Gentle lips now made contact with yours, and you sighed in relief. You had missed this, just the feeling of him kissing you. You had been thinking about it- and other things- all day, and you were so excited to start. Hands caressed over each other slowly but eagerly, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how much paint you had managed to get on each other.

Your kisses became more hurried, more firm, and you could feel Rafayel’s body temperature rise a bit. His breath stuttered when you moaned into his mouth, tongues dancing together in a synchronized battle. He nibbled at your bottom lip and you arched deeply into him, nails digging into his biceps.

“Fuck, the paint is drying.” You managed to gasp out when your lips separated, his mouth finding the skin behind your ear immediately. He sucked hard on it, until you shivered and let out a long, shaky breath. Your knees were so weak, and you were glad for his strong arms wrapped around your waist, since it was the only thing currently holding you up.

He hummed against your skin, not letting up on the marks he was marring it with. You had discovered pretty early on that Rafayel was a biter, and marks on your skin was another way he created art. It just so happened that you enjoyed the feeling more than you could ever think to describe.

“Good thing you laid more out for us then.” He responded, referring to the globs just below your feet, before tugging you down until you were sprawled on the canvas below you. It was cool under your skin, and you felt something wet just under your shoulder. Oh. Your eyes met Rafayel’s before they finally traveled down his body for the first time since you two had started. You gulped in a deep breath.

His pale skin was covered in purple and pink streaks, like smooth color streaked over brilliant porcelain. The ridges and bumps of his muscles stood out even more under the paint, and you could tell in a few places the exact route your hands had taken, pink running over his waist and down his V-line. The remnants of the journey your fingers took stood before you, proud on his skin. You felt a thrill run through you at the sight, something stirred in your core.

“This is turning you on.” Rafayel observed, a light smirk resting on his face. You felt your body burn at the teasing lilt of his voice.

“As if this isn’t something you’ve dreamed of doing.” You retaliated, opening your legs so he could fit himself between them, resting his elbows on either side of you so your faces were a hairbreadth away. He hummed and sighed, lowering his body until his erection grazed right over your center, making you gasp.

“Believe me, I’ve dreamed of this.” He sighed, reached for the paint to the left and just above your head. You watched him cover his palm with it before he reached down, hooking a hand under your knee and pulling it up until it folded against your torso. The paint was wet on your skin, and you were learning to love the feeling more and more. His cock prodded your entrance, now on full display for him. He gave you another mischievous smirk.

“Baby I’m about to ruin you so bad.”

The first slide of him inside you had you crying out and arching into him, his cock carving its way through your unprepped hole and bringing with it a burn so delicious it made your head spin. When he bottomed out, he moaned unabashedly into your ear, hot breath hitting the shell of it and sending shivers through your spine. Your core clenched and unclenched rapidly, trying to adjust to the glorious intrusion. Your brain screamed at him to move, to slide in and out, do anything at all. You needed to feel him rock into you. Your hips twitched and jerked, making your boyfriend moan before he finally started moving.

His thrusts started out languid, smooth, gliding in and out of you at a reasonable pace. You sighed, head leaned back and reveling in the feeling it brought, leg tensing under his grip. Little tendrils of pleasure zipped up from where you were connected, heavy cock stretching you open until your pussy was adequately wet, ready to take the pounding you knew was inevitably coming your way.

And oh, did you receive it.

Slowly, steadily, Rafayel picked up the pace until his hips were smacking hard into your pelvis, knocking every breath from your lungs. You cried out, one arm thrown over his shoulder while the other seeked desperate purchase under you, used to the feeling of silk sheets but now met with nothing but smooth, stretched out canvas and the wet sensation of sticky color. Rafayel used the grip he had on your knee to twist your leg out further, inviting him to hit that one spot that made you see stars. A broken wail left your mouth and your back arched impossibly high, hearing a low moan hit your ear when you clenched tight around the cock pounding into you.

“F-fuck, Rafi-” His head lifted, just enough to connect your lips in a desperate slurry of rushed kisses, sucking and biting on your lips as his pace didn’t so much as stutter. Your moans dissolved straight into his mouth, little pornographic ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’s slipping out with every thrust. You didn’t bother muffling them, knowing exactly what the noises did for Rafayel’s ego, and with how he was ravishing you currently, you were okay with giving him a little ego boost.

(You would deal with the consequences of that later.)

“Gonna cum-” You managed to choke out just as your orgasm rammed into you with no warning, effectively silencing any other words as you cried and shook through it, muscles seized tight and legs kicking in the air.

“God- fuck,” Rafayel’s first words. “There you go. Fuck, that’s it.”

He fucked you through the last vestiges of your high before his arms slipped under your arched waist and lifted you up, rolling over until you were perched on his hips, throbbing cock still nestled inside you. The change in position made him slide in deeper, and you let out a broken moan. Your orgasm was still lingering around the edges, encouraging you to prolong the feeling, to chase after it again. And so you did. You rolled your hips, placing your hands on Rafayel’s abs as leverage to push your body up and down. You finally took a good look at your boyfriend.

His chest was heaving with exertion, shining under the glow of the lights above you, catching on the swirling mixes of purple and pink. Under the paint, his skin glistened with sweat, tensing and straining under his movements. The paint had reached all the way up the side of his neck, and even into his hair, blending with the purple tresses. The purple complimented his eyes, half lidded and heavy with lust, his lip was tucked under his teeth.

He was a vision.

“Baby, you’re so fucking beautiful.” His voice was fractured and strained, and in your staring you had forgotten that you were also the object of his gaze. You couldn’t imagine how you looked right now, slathered with paint and hot under the stimulation you were receiving, strands of hair leaving your bun and trailing down over your face and neck. You rolled your hips and tightened hard around his cock, watching the way his jaw slackened and eyes rolled shut. Another zip of pleasure ran through you, and you couldn’t help but keen, pushing yourself to go faster, to make him feel even better.

“I’m- I’m so close.” You could feel your vision swim, tears gathering in your lash line as his cock dug deep into your core, prodding into your spongy walls in all the right ways. Rafayel grabbed both your wrists off his chest, pulling them behind your back and then tugging you down until your body was pinned tight against his. You let him do as he pleased, planting his feet on the canvas before he started thrusting hard and fast up into your sopping cunt.

You screamed and arched, body tensing at the pace he set, chin resting on his shoulder and head thrown back as you let him carry you face first into another orgasm, gushing around him until the sounds of his thrusts grew impossibly wetter, sloppier than the paint around you and covering you, blabbering incoherent phrases and curses as tears poured from your eyes. With every thrust, the ecstasy prolonged itself, like an endless high that came with intense drugs, except all you needed was him, and he would get you there if it was the last thing he did.

Your perspective was shifting, Rafayel’s cock leaving you until you felt cold and empty. He maneuvered you onto your hands and knees, or rather, arms and knees since you felt that you couldn’t even hold yourself up at this point. A firm hand pushed on your back until it arched to his liking, spreading you until he could slide his massive length back into you with little to no resistance. You whimpered pathetically, eyes rolling unhindered in your head, cheek smushed into the paper beneath you. Briefly, you felt like you could almost taste the paint, but the thought left your brain faster than cigarette smoke dissipating on a windy day when Rafayel started moving again.

“Stop me if you can’t take it.”

You could never, would never stop him, not when your pussy keened at the feeling of his cock filling you up to fulfillment once more. Especially not when he planted a foot on your side that gave him leverage to thrust harder and stronger into you. Your body buzzed and reveled under the feeling of being used like this, basking in the sounds coming from Rafayel getting heavier and choppier as he finally chased his own orgasm instead of yours. You wanted nothing more than for him to warm you up, fill you with his seed until you couldn’t take any more of it. Your depraved mind was wiped blank of everything else except that crushing need.

“Cum in me.” You managed to whine, clenching hard around him. Rafayel moaned and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck. I’m gonna- I’m cumming baby, take it, take it, take it, take it-” Your body jostled at the strength of his thrusts, once, twice, and then he was slamming his cock deep into you and holding it there, hot spurts of cum hitting your walls. Painting your insides white like your bodies had painted your outsides purple and pink.

Your entire body collapsed on itself when Rafayel pulled out, dropping onto the paper heavily as you tried to catch your breath. Your vision was swimming and so was your head, unable to do anything but focus on the faint buzz in your muscles. You could hear shuffling somewhere behind you before you were being lifted into strong arms. You sighed and curled into them, seeking the warmth of your boyfriend after the beating your body just took. And he was happy to provide it- in the tub he ran for you while both of you settled into warm water.

You dozed in and out of sleep as Rafayel cleaned you up, giggling and humming along with whatever little anecdotes he was telling you. He knew you would barely remember most of it later, considering how dopey and spacey you got after sex. You pouted and leaned up to him every few minutes, stealing tiny kisses from his lips. And afterwards, you let him pat you dry and put you to bed in the usual “princess treatment” he gave you after one of your sessions. The only time he backed off from teasing you relentlessly and instead doted on you properly.

You couldn’t tell how long you slept, but you woke up feeling well rested. The bed next to you was empty but still slightly warm, and you could hear quiet shuffling outside in the studio.

Your muscles screamed when you forced them to move, your hips and thighs feeling like particular sore spots. You ignored the feeling in favor of pulling a shirt off the floor to throw over your body, realizing it was your boyfriend’s when it fell all the way to your thighs. You trudged out of the room while rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You saw him standing with his back to you, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. The muscles of his bare back shifted as he moved, now clear of all the paint you two had slathered on it. Oh right, the paint.

Your eyes shifted behind him to the canvas, which Rafayel had propped up against the wall now, and was observing silently. You walked closer to admire the streaks of pink and purple on it, watching it carefully. Somehow, the choppy strokes showed your desperation, your passion, and you felt your face heat up at the thought.

“Looks pretty.” Your voice was slightly rough. Rafayel turned around at the sound and gave you a soft smile, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you from behind as you both stared. You settled into his warmth as you swayed gently back and forth.

“Why’re you thinking so hard about it?” You asked.

You turned your head to watch as he huffed and pouted a bit. He looked so cute, you bit back the urge to squish his cheeks.

“Pretty sure there’s some cum in there somewhere.”

Aaaaaand the urge was gone.

You smacked his chest hard, making him jerk back and laugh, but not releasing his hold on you.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Not more than you.”

He kissed you before you could land another smack, hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head back. You fought to keep a grin down, but failed when you felt his lips stretch with a smile of his own, erupting into giggles.

#rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnd #rafayel #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel smut #love and deepspace smut #rafayel x y/n

[monstersflashlight]

"Honey, I'm home!"

minotaur x fem!reader || breeding, knotting

You heard the door closing and his hooves stumping as he looked for you. He knew where you were. In the same place as every night when he got home. Dinners were on you as long as he made breakfast. Early days of marriage were all about compromise. Or that’s what everyone told you when you married. Listening intently, hyper-aware of his presence someplace behind you.

“Smells good.” He called out as you heard the bag hitting the ground someplace in the hallway.

“Stir fry.”

You let out a startled cry as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “Not the food.” He whispered against your ear, grabbing your waist and pressing his whole body against you, sniffing your neck.

“What are you doing?” You asked, cutting vegetables, his body pressed against your back. Before you could even blink, he was pressing you against the counter, his erection poking at your back. “I need to make dinner.” You tried to break free of his hold, but he just pressed you harder.

“I missed you, that’s all.” He whispered next to your ear, his soft lips grazing your skin in the softest caress, making your whole body shiver.

“Missed me? You saw me this morning.” You giggled at his antics, trying to push him away. You knew full well that there was no way you could out-power him.

His solid frame against you was too heavy, too big, too imposing… He could do whatever he wanted to you and you couldn’t do anything to stop him. You should be scared, but you weren’t. Nope. You couldn’t be scared. That’s the first thing that drew you to him, his fucking size. How big he was, how his body towered over you, how his biceps were bigger than your head. Maybe you liked that. Maybe you enjoyed feeling so tiny against him. Maybe you enjoyed the feel of him picking you up and using you as he pleased. Maybe...

Lost in your horny thoughts you didn’t realize his hand was inside your panties until his fingers were playing with your clit. “I missed this pussy. My pussy.” His big fingers felt rough against your soft skin.

“Wha-?” Your voice broke with a groan when he pinches a bit too harsh, a bit too forceful. You know he did it on purpose, he could be gentle, he usually was. But him being rough to you meant one thing: your fertile days arrived, you just signed yourself for a fuck-athon. Oh dang. So you did what you could: you whimpered.

He laughed at your whine, a spark of cruelness shining through. “Don’t play coy now, pet. I can feel you dripping down my fingers.” Said fingers were probing your entrance, hovering over it until you moaned his name And then hell broke loose. He didn’t give you a heads up, he didn’t play games like that. One second you were standing pressing against the counter and the next one your clothes were ripped off you and his dick was pushing into you. Too fast, too harsh, not letting you adapt to his size. He was in for one thing and one thing only: breed you.

His dick was so deep and so hard that you could feel every ridge, every vein. It felt like the most amazing torture, the sweetest death. In seconds, you were not a person anymore, just a toy for him to play as he wished. He grabbed your hips, bouncing you on his cock as you grabbed the counter for dear life.

“Are you gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?” You whined. The combination of his shaft inside you and his fingers playing with your clit made your climax hit you like a tide wave, gasping for air as you trembled on his dick.

But that didn’t stop him, you were his to play and his to fuck.

“That’s it. Good girl. Again.” His fingers were still playing with your oversensitive clit, in the good side of too painful. Your pleasure felt raw, your throat spent, not a single sound coming out of you. “One more, pet. Give me one more.” You complied. But that wasn’t enough.

Your bull of a husband kept fucking you, not stopping for a second. His labored breaths making you hotter. His moans making you wetter (if that was even possible). His pace was brutal, and you didn’t know what was up and what was down. Your body was completely spent as he used you as his own personal fleshlight. You kept coming, and coming, and coming… It was too much, too good.

Your brain was foggy, your body felt like jelly as he moved you up and down, your legs gave out long before he stopped. And then you felt it, the telltale sign that he was close, the bulbous knot at the base of his dick twitching against your entrance at every thrust. With a long groan, he pushed it inside of you as you screamed. Your vision went black, you went limp as he pumped you full of cum, your lower tummy bulging. His big body was pressing you down onto the counter like the biggest weighted blanket, his dick still pulsing inside of you.

“Bed.” He mumbled as he lifted you off the counter, still impaled on his dick, his knot preventing any cum from escaping.

“But dinner...” You whispered in a choked breath.

“Later.”

It was gonna be a long night.

#monster x human #monster kink #monster imagine #monster boyfriend #minotaur #minotaur x human #minotaur x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #teratophillia #minotaur husband

[s1m0nth3swag]

Francis Mosses x GN!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE; Haven't written in a while, but thanks to Arlo, a friend (Hi Arlo, I know you're reading this), Inspiration about Francis Mosses struck (he bought me That's not my neighbor and then continued to freak out about Francis with me) so I wrote this. I have so many thoughts about Francis, so... tell me if you want more because i will deliver ngl. Enjoy (or don't, I don't dictate your feelings)

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Porn with little to no plot, Submissive Francis, a little non-consensual at the start (but not in a super weird way, imo?), Gender neutral reader (no pronouns used, tried to write as GN as possible with the compliments and thoughts about Readers appearance), not proofread nor have I thought about this much, more a drabble than an actual thoughtful story (not apologising because I had such a long break from writing anything and obviously it's gonna suck a little when I come back)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

The first time Francis had realised that he hadn't gotten any touch from another human being was when someone brushed up against him on his way home from work. He had felt like a creep afterwards because he hadn't stopped thinking about what could've happened if the person hadn't moved away and had just stayed pressed against him. That was a week before you started your job as a doorman.

The second time Francis had noticed was when a friend of his had spoken to him on the phone, talking about his new girlfriend. Said friend gave too much intel on their sex life. Francis had wondered if he could have someone the way his friend explained - he quickly brushed the thought off. That was two days before you started working as a doorman.

The third time, he noticed when you had smiled at him. It was your first day, and he was tired from work. You had repeated his name after reading it off of his ID, and he had looked at you for the first time since his eyes kept falling closed, and you smiled so brightly. You had told him his name was nice, and you said it again. Francis swore that the way his name rolled off your tongue was the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. Not even an angel could sound more wonderful. Suddenly, he was a lot more energised. Totally not thanks to the fact that he had immediately grown hard the second he had seen your smile. He had gone to his apartment that night and had jerked off for the first time in probably months. He had always been too tired to previously, but now he couldn't stop thinking about how you'd sound moaning his name. Maybe you were more of a groaner, or you'd whimper and whine. He came as he imagined how you'd look sucking his dick.

Since then, Francis has always looked forward to entry checks. What had normally kept him away from his bed and a good night's sleep was now the best experience of his day. He loved the way you spoke to him even though he was too nervous to respond. Sometimes, he deliberately didn't show his ID at first, just so you'd ask about it, and he could listen to you talk a little more. He felt guilty about it. He knew you had never agreed to feed into this weird little obsession of his. It was awful of him to do this - have you talk to him enough to give him more scenarios to think about that night.

A few weeks after all this had started, Francis had built up the courage to finally ask you out. Just something simple, dinner at his place. He had to cook for himself all the time. Cooking for you as well wouldn't be too different, right?

Francis was wrong. He was anxious that the food wouldn't taste good and kept tasting it just so he could make sure it hadn't mysteriously switched tastes in the last 20 seconds. When you knocked on his door, he took a minute to make sure he didn't look like a mess - though you wouldn't mind either way since he always looked like a mess when he came through during your shifts.

You looked so good when he opened the door. Your hair fell perfectly, your lips looked a little too kissable, and Francis had to stop his train of thought just so he wouldn't embarrass himself by having yet another boner caused by just the way you looked. You were a little shorter than him, smiling up as he let you inside.

"You look good." He mumbled, his cheeks flushing. He seriously had to lay off thinking like a high-schooler. His nervousness and awkwardness were getting really annoying - to him, at least. You grinned, chuckling softly as you took off your shoes. "Thank you. You do as well." His heart for sure burst at that - he knew something else would burst as well if he didn't stop thinking right this second.

Throughout the evening, ignoring his thoughts came easier and easier. The two of you had eaten, you had told him he was a good cook, he had almost excused himself to the bathroom because of it. Now you were sitting on the couch, drinking wine and talking casually.

"You know, when you first walked through, I swore I would die." You giggled, looking at him with a mischievous look. Francis was confused by that statement. "How come?" He asked, tilting his head at you in question. "I was sure you were a doppelganger. You looked too handsome to be real." You cheekily answered, cheeks slightly flushed as you downed your wine. Francis blushed heavily, looked away from you, and thought about your words for a moment. The silence was loud as he wondered what to answer. "..you think I'm handsome?" He questioned while looking at the floor. If he had looked at you, he'd have seen the way you stared at him, your own cheeks coloured a deep red. "Extremely." You muttered. It took him a minute before he could look at you, but when he did, his lips pressed against yours in a desperate kiss.

When you reciprocated, Francis groaned and pulled you closer until you sat on his lap. He was just a tiny bit embarrassed when you gasped and felt his dick press against you. In all honesty, he had held back the entire night, and he was allowed a little selfishness. "Sorry. Can't help it." He muttered between kisses. You just grinned against his lips before grinding against him. A whimper fell from his lips - that was the moment he was actually embarrassed. "That's cute.." You had mumbled, a cheeky grin on your face as you started placing kisses against his jaw and neck. One of your hands trailed down his body to rest right over his crotch, Francis unconsciously bucked his hips up against your hand, whining. He didn't notice anything else as you caught the skin of his neck with your teeth carefully, leaving the softest bite mark on him. He shuddered at the feeling and gasped before realising that you had meanwhile unzipped his pants. A groan slipped from his lips as you ran a finger over his dick, still hidden from sight by his boxers, but god knows he would cum the second you'd touch it without. "Is this okay?" You asked him, and he nodded faster than he even knew he could. "Yes. God, yes. Please, please continue.." he muttered, his breathing heavy as he watched you slide off his lap, settling in front of him and between his legs. His dick twitched at the sight, and he let out a heavy sigh. Minutes later, his pants and boxers were discarded, and the way you looked up at him, his dick so close to your face, made Francis feel the way his orgasm was approaching way too quick. The second you wrapped your hand around him he whined pathetically, bucked up into your hand and knew that he'd definitely cum too soon. Your hand was so soft, cool against his hot flesh, and you worked his dick so good he almost thought you were a professional. He looked down at you through lidded eyes, watched the way you bit your lip, and grinned knowingly. "Such a pretty boy, huh?" You chuckled, and that definitely sealed the deal for Francis. He came, probably ruining his shirt as he dirtied both it and your hand. His heart stopped for a second when you licked your hand while looking up at him. "You didn't give me enough time to taste you properly. Don't look at me like that." You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. "You should probably take off your shirt so you can clean it later." You then winked. He swiftly shed the piece of clothing, entranced by your voice and the way you looked. "Sorry, didn't mean to cum that fast.." he mutters, his voice out of breath. "Jus'.. unused to... this.." he added, clearing his throat awkwardly. You laughed and shook your head. "Don't worry about it. We have all the time in the world to make you last longer. I'm gonna give you a real reason to be tired tomorrow." You winked.

Francis didn't even mind that he was in for a long night.

Your honour I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #x reader #gn reader #thats not my neighbor #milkman x reader

[appleblueberry-pie]

Explaining your First Love to the Yandere's

A/N: "The Yandere's", meaning as many yandere's i think I can characterize as yandere's as perfectly as possible without burning myself out. Also, are the pictures too much?????? Also, I couldn't find a good pic for Sugu without picking the one where he's literally going insane LMAOOO. Love how my semi-debut for my yandere characterization for him is shown w a not so pleasant picture of him(they're all perfect). Anyways, this is probably gonna be my most chaotic, yet organized, post about jjk ever. I have a solid plan and will go through with it. It's friday and this is me "letting loose" before the weekend. Also, the first love story will be pulled from my own experience. With multiple twists to it to make it sound as interesting as possible.

SCENARIO:

"Mmmm. I remember my first love." You hum in a pleasant tone as you start to reminisce events of who you first gave your heart to. "I loved him so much, it was insane. Because....we grew up with each other. We used to be like this." You twist your fingers together, smiling at him as you explain. "He was an embodiment of me, as I was of him. I don't remember a time we weren't friends. I think it helps to mention that our mom's were friends and they were neighbors. So....we've always known each other. He's a year older than me."

You two were out in the park on the grass. He suggested a little picnic together, hoping to bring you two closer so he could possibly make more moves to be more than a friend. But you were so oblivious to it, even going as far as talking of your first love as if you still missed this stupid asshole.

"I still miss him." You go silent for a few seconds and stare down at the checkered blanket, smiling. He gapes a little and resists the urge to scoff. "We both loved playing video games, we watched the same tv shows, went to the same elementary school....a lot of things happened between us. He didn't like me back, though. I confessed to him when I was 9 and he said no." You laugh. "But even then, I still loved him. I still feel it, too. For some reason, my love for others doesn't really go away. Just sits at the bottom of my heart to make more room for others."

You sigh and continue talking about the guy. "He just grew more and more....attractive as I grew up. I am pretty sure he's why I have my type that I have in men currently. He's very tall....a deep voice." You sigh, closing your eyes to remember. "Relaxed, closed off.....I heard him on the phone when our moms were talking a month ago. He sounds....so different. I don't even know what I'd do with myself if I saw him again." In real time, he watched you unravel slowly to show how.....inf*tuated you were with this guy. You were so focused on naming his qualities. As if you could picture him perfectly in your mind.

"I'm so glad we don't talk to each other anymore. I ruined our relationship. Said a few inappropriate things I shouldn't have said at the wrong time. I haven't spoken to him in....6 years. And I'd rather it stay that way, honestly. Because he's a rather boring person outside of his physical attributes. But I have attachment issues." You pick up one of the snacks laid out between the two of you. "Yeah. I'm done talking about him. I would rather not think of him anymore."

YANDERE REACTIONS:

Sukuna:

Sukuna was baffled. Anger, frustration, fear, and even jealousy kept his tongue from moving. He thought this moment wouldn't ever happen in his life. He thought this wasn't a possibility. Your extreme disloyalty to him was what made him clench his hands in anger. But if he rationally thought about this, you don't know. You don't know how much he loves you. How much the Ryomen Sukuna loves you. You were supposed to be his in all lifetimes. He felt like he absolutely knew you were pure. You smelled pure and your energy felt pure when he first met you. So why were you fixing your mouth to say such disgusting and unfaithful words to him as if he wasn't right there?

He wanted to ask you if you've been trying to give yourself to him like a whore, but he knew that was just him overreacting. He wouldn't ever say such things to you, anyways. He wanted to change for you and was trying, starting with these stupid little date settings he knew you loved. A fucking park. And here he was being stabbed in the chest multiple times without your knowledge of it. It was all your doing.

He might be human in this lifetime. He might be nothing but a mere human for you to toy with freely, and he would let you do it to him. But he would never allow a puny roach get in the way of getting what he deserves. He deserves you and he will have you, one way or another. And if that means cutting a small piece of your heart out just to keep the rest, then so be it. He can't have any piece of you in him. Just thinking about him makes another vessel pop in his body somewhere. He will kill this thing.

Kento:

Maybe he was overbearing. He really just couldn't help but feel insecure. There should be no real reason for you to bring up a man from the past. Someone that should clearly be out of your mind. Was he boring? What did that fool have that he didn't? And why did you mention it while you two were on this date??(It wasn't a date, but it felt like it to him) Maybe he was too plain. Men like him were just smokers and loners, of course you'd bring up someone else that can satiate your desire for real love. It's all because he couldn't. Not in the way you want to be loved.

But he knew, he knew that he was enough. He knew he was your type as well, so, what did you mean by he was the type you have in men?? What does that mean for him? Will you use him and throw him away? He doesn't want to be used and tossed out like trash. He wanted to be yours forever. He wanted to be your man. Your man. He wanted to be your lover, your obsesser and the one you obsess over, not that imbecile. He wanted to be skin to skin, he wanted to be under your skin, he wanted to make his mark on you and for you to do the same to him. He deserves your love. But here you are expressing it for another man you haven't even spoken to in over 6 years. He deserves that type of commitment, there's nothing he's done to deserve it this late.

"I love you." The words slip out like oil on water. And it makes his heart oh, so much lighter.

Suguru:

"Heavens. I'm glad you aren't talking with him now." Suguru chuckles and shakes his head, peeling off more strawberry leaves for you. "This is why." He points with the strawberry at the people walking past and then gives you the strawberry. "This is why I don't want you talking with them. They do this to hold you in their clutches, I've seen it." Suguru sighs as he recalls your story in his mind. Jesus, was it trying to hypnotize you? If so, it was working. No worries, it won't be around to mess with your mind much longer.

"They actively lie, they laze around, let their emotions control them, and then try to manipulate you to stay with them to be their stepping stool." He brushes your hair back neatly, and you scrunch your eyebrows at his words. "But I know you're better than him. Better than all of them." He calls out your name and stares into your eyes with a look that makes you flustered. What is his problem?

"You are the light. You are one of the most strongest and intelligent sorcerers I have seen of this time. You hold up your potential and continue to blow my mind with how beautiful your soul is. I am constantly drawn to you and your energy, I never get enough of it. I don't ever want to hinder you and I don't want anyone else to hinder your energy. That's why I will kill that filthy animal that tried to touch you." It's scary, the way he maintains eye contact with you and spits the nastiest insult about the man you once loved with your whole heart.

"I can't wait to get to know you better. You've been teaching me so much. Maybe you can tell me about your favorite nature spots and we can relax there whenever you're free. And sometime later, I could also take you to meet my family. You'll love my two daughters." He laughs lightly, knowing Nanako and Mimiko would adore finally having a real mother worth of raising them. Together, you and him would be unstoppable.

Choso:

Choso was finished with peeling the mandarin for you. You kind of were confused about how he went about doing this, though. Because all over his lap were the smallest bits of mandarin peels you've ever seen. But the mandarin looked perfect. He obviously took his time. He handed it to you softly, smiling. You accept it happily and begin peeling.

He was surprised he didn't rip the thing apart then and there. Maybe be should peel things more often. The way you so freely spoke about your love for another man when your soulmate was sitting right next to you, peeling fruit open for you was preposterous. He needed a hug. A lemonade, had to kill someone, something. But he stopped killing people for you(secretly), so he has to resort to acting like he's peeling off that devil's skin. Starting from where the shiny skin first shows. The first piece is always the hardest to pick off and it's hard to choose where to begin. But soon enough, the color underneath began to show. He slowly picked off every. Little. Piece. He heard a yelp of pain and cries of "sorry's" in his head for every piece.

Every single little piece made the air smell more and more sweet and tangy. The more you spoke, the faster he picked. The stronger the smell was. So citrus-y and delicious. It made him smile. He loved peeling this mandarin. Then picking off white strips connected to the mandarin itself, so that it was smoother and you had no access peel. Like veins, they came off one by one. He simply stared at it when he was done. Smooth, perfect. Scattered remains laying everywhere on his lap.

He's never felt this way before. What were you doing to him? What is this twisting feeling in his gut that makes him want to puke? Why can't he breathe? Why does he want to kill the kids and mothers at the playground not too far away? He needs you to calm him down.

He hates this park.

"Here you go, angel." He hands it to you, smiling. You looked a little confused at first, but then took it from him, opening it to take a slice. "Oh, this looks real nice, Cho. ......Why are you smiling like that?" He shrugs, picking up one of the strawberries you brought from your place. "Like what...?"

Toji:

Toji was silent. The awkward silence he was creating between the two of you made you nervous. He was sitting close to you, leaning over to you, his arm supporting his weight behind your back with your shoulder touching his chest. He was just staring down at the bowl of strawberries. ".....Toji?" Your soft voice made him sigh.

No, he couldn't do it. Killing you won't kill the pain and anger in his chest. This was probably the angriest he's ever been. He wanted to shout at you to apologize for how you were making him feel. But what he really wanted was to feel your lips on his and for you to shut the fuck up. For some reason, every time you open your mouth, it always ends with him degrading further and further off the side of sanity and just going completely ballistic.

You saw his hand on his hip. The hip that wasn't actually his hip, but was his gun he was resting his hand on. He would feel so much better if those shrieking rats would shut up. Fucking rodents running around you two freely like he wasn't about to ruin everyone's day.

He wouldn't say he was often traumatized, but he could've went his whole life without hearing that story. Now he has to find a random man and kill him for stealing your heart. I mean, the least the bastard could've done was reciprocate his feelings and not leave you feeling helpless. "I could treat you better than that dick." You flinch at his words before smiling, averting your gaze as well. "Oh....." He leans in closer to your face. "Where does he live, huh? Is it the prick with the glasses?" "No?" "The one you work with?" "I-I told you I haven't-" "Eh, whatever. I'll find him and kill him." He smiles at your bashfulness and grabs a few strawberries from the patch.

Sometimes he forgets you don't care much for how he says things. If the right message gets across, you usually don't mind how he says it. But he just blatantly threatened to kill him. You grab the leafless strawberries from his hands and begin eating. Nah. You were his, for sure. He sighs and lays down on the blanket, staring up at the blue sky.

Satoru:

Satoru nodded along with your words, his hands trembling. When you smiled, he did. When you sighed, he would, too. And when you finished your story, he had to swallow the thick bile in his throat. You were just....recalling old memories, that's all. Nothing else. He tried to focus on the grass blades he felt through the blanket. He tried to focus on the sounds of the kids running around squealing.

He watched you eat some of the cold grapes he brought you. They were big, and you praised him lightly for finding such a great batch. He nods quietly and stares down at his lap. Everything was fine. You were fine, and so was he. "Satoru...?" Honey dripping naturally in your voice makes his head turn automatically. The worry etched on your face made the strings holding his mind together break one by one. "Are you alright..? You're sweating."

Nothing was fine. He can't believe you just said that to him. Why would you..? Why did...? Why?.....wait, why?? Why??? Why why why why why why WHY would you do that? Why would you say that to him? He sacrificed so much for you. He killed all of the assassins that went after you when the higher ups found out about you and him getting closer. He paid off your parent's debt secretly. He paid your rent. He woke up early in the mornings to talk to you because he knows you like to wake up to see the sunset. He memorized all of your schedules when you have special weeks, special breaks, he memorized all days that you memorized, he knows what mattress you like to sleep on, he knows how you like certain foods to be seasoned, he knows your favorite weather and season, he didn't fucking learn all of this about you for nothing!! WHY don't you ever appreciate everything he's ever done for you? Why don't you notice him? Why don't you love him? He stalks you every day to understand the type of man you would want to live under your roof and be under your covers and that wasn't enough.

He's been so alone all of his fucking life. No one understood him like you do. He couldn't help but open his ribcage, breaking them off of his body to one by one to let you touch his hot beating heart with your cold fingers. He wants you inside of his heart forever and never let you go, can't you understand that? He hasn't slept in three days, predetermining what he was going to say to you during this picnic, and you tell him that?? Just fucking kill him. Kill him, kick his face, spit on him, ruin him like you're doing now. He clearly doesn't matter.

"Satoru??"

He's supposed to be the one you compare playing video games with, he is supposed to be the one you watch the same tv shows with, he was supposed to go to the same school as you!! His skin is on fire, he can't breathe, his mind hurts, the grass blades are irritating his skin and the children are making his migraine worse. Are you saying something? He can't hear you. His ears are ringing.

He wants to be him. He wants to rip open the skin and spine of the man who lived in your soul since the dawn of time and crawl into his body to experience what he experienced. He wants to do all of those things with you as kids and live with you, grow with you, let him be your infatuation. He wants to rewind time. He wants to die. He wants both of you to die and be reborn to be given a second chance he can never ever have.

"Satoru!"

Your face is twisted into heavy concern and slight fear. Satoru sat in front of you, staring at you. He hasn't moved in three entire minutes. His face was covered in bucket loads of sweat, his lips twisted into a tight smile that threatened to break into a million pieces. The corners of his lips wobbled as if he was going to cry, but his eyes were wide open and dry. His legs, arms, and back stiff as he sits in such an uncomfortable position, it had to hurt. You were scared for him.

Can he hear you? You slowly raise on of your hands to touch his cheek and he flinches under your touch, finally blinking. "Yes?" You purse your lips and bring out a cold water bottle from your basket. "Here, maybe you should drink some water." He takes the water bottle you dropped into his hand. "Thank you." He whispers and sighs, twisting open the cap. You watch him guzzle the whole thing in 5 seconds. "......maybe we should go indoors." He nods, closing the now empty water bottle. "Yeah. The sun is hurting my eyes."

No part 2's. Because I don't like continuing old plot and I love seeing people go crazy for me not continuing good content.

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