#and this one is peak “you are using words you don't understand and also trying to paint a right-wing ideology as leftist”

[littlefankingdom]

Okay, I'm going to complain about a fanfic I tried to read about Jason again.

This time, not only did his method reduced crimes (which, again, killing criminals, YES EVEN RAPISTS, don't lower crimes and the myth that it does is fascist propaganda to support more violent police forces and a more authoritarian gov), and Red Hood is more respected by Gothamites than Batman (unlikely. Like, he is another crime lord for them, they probably see any good he does as some tactics to get power over people and abuse them, because that's how it works with crime lords and mafia. They help you and then you have to pay your debtback or you die), we also had:

Jason understands more than Bruce that people does crimes because they are in need, which TOTALLY conflicts with him being more violent than Batman. "He only kills very bad people" you cannot judge that, you are just a human, you don't know everything. And you cannot argue that people resort to crimes because of their past and situation, THEN kill criminals, that doesn't work together. Also, Bruce knows and tries to help people, like wtf do you think he does charity for? Who do you think finance Leslie's clinic, which is opened to everyone and completely free? In some comics, he even builds better housing for people with his money, for FREE. Bruce knows, that's literally why he can see the good in his rogues.

Red Hood is hope for the Gothamites, and Batman is fear. Bro, Red Hood kills people, what kind of hope is he bringing? Hope of an early death from a gunshot wound? Batman is hope, he has been hope for decades. Always the same shit, we take Batman's shit and give it to Red Hood to paint him in a better light.

Red Hood's goons are a better police force than the actual police, that they are a reformed police. (THE EXACT WORDS USE BY THE AUTHOR) People hate the cops because they kill without repercussions, Red Hood's goons are under less control and juridictions than the cops, and they kill people more easily. Also, a reformed police means cops train to de-escalate situations, who use their guns less and don't kill people, who use violence less, who have more training in handling different kinds of situations. Red Hood's goons are some random low level criminals, they do not have these trainings people want. And, again, THEY KILL PEOPLE. Like, wtf. Wtf are we saying? Wtf are we writing? Y'all really don't understand the concepts and words you are using.

[allurilove]

Yandere Stalker x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: Stalking, blood, non con—he goes down on you without you knowing, fem reader, perverted and lewd behavior, again he’s weird and so delusional, mentions of violence against women.

*Happy Pride month!!! 🫶🏻This fic is influenced by You—specifically season one. I’m trying to give him a joe goldberg vibe. This is also part two, and check out part one and part three! Your stalker doesn't have a name, and this fic is in his point of view. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your stalker decides to celebrate one year of staking you by giving you a little visit.

What’s more dangerous than a lustful and starved man?

You wanna know what’s great about New York? That every apartment seemed to have a fire escape. Yours is tastefully decorated with a rug, and a small chair that has a plaid blanket draped over it. What's also so great about it is that it gives me access to you. You live on the fifth floor of this red-bricked building. It’s somewhat old but has a nice rustic charm. You seem to have an eye for knackered and worn-down things, as I’ve seen you pick up a used vanity and refurbished it. Inside, there’s a lobby with a doorman that is barely awake half of the time, he picks up a huge breakfast and clocks out after having a food coma. He's old, flabby, and not nearly ready to protect you like I am.

I seriously doubt he could jump over his desk and grab the throat of any danger coming your way. It's quite concerning, you know? You often sleep with your window open, and with the current rise in crime...you could get stabbed, kidnapped, bound and tied, and thrown into the back of a truck in a matter of seconds. Trust me, I have seen it happen before.

Don't get me wrong, it's understandable. It’s a hot spring day, and even if the moon gave the city a bit of a break from the sweltering heat, the lingering humidity continued to have a tight grip on everyone. Every crow resides in the trees for shade, every stray cat hiding in the alleyways, and even the rats seem content with steaming away in the sewers. The pavements are hot, the wind is hot, and you can see and smell the stench of people's BO in the air. I mean, c'mon... have they heard of deodorant?

June is just a month that comes before my favorite season.

Summer, and in other words: “An excuse to wear more revealing clothing.” There’s something amazing and titillating seeing you in tiny, tight tank tops, walking around in flip flops with freshly painted nails, and your hair up so I can see a bit of your neck.

And today marks one year since I first saw you. I know how you drink tea since coffee makes your head hurt, how you dance around your apartment after having a good day, and how you always leave your apartment at 12 p.m. for lunch.

I memorized the exact time you close your curtains for bed, just before I catch that perfect glimpse of you in your robe after a hot and steamy shower. I want to be your bath mat so badly. Step on my ribcage for all I care, and let droplets of water from your body fall onto my face. Let me see up your towel and gaze into what I consider to be the gates of heaven itself. Let me lift my head up so I can suck the remaining bathwater on you. Let me get all of my questions and prayers answered, and let me see all of you.

I have reached the top of the steps, my hand gripping onto the window to push it up higher, and I duck down to crawl into your bedroom. The floors seem to creak with every step I take, yet you haven't woken up. A heavy sleeper, are we?

My eyes adjust to the lack of lights. My pupils expand as I drink in your nude form. You look so serene with your soft snoring, your arms splattered, and my gaze traveled over the peaks of your tits rising and falling with your breathing. Your blanket was just thrown to the side, clearly disregarded with a bit of anger, and I could see the sheen of sweat on your forehead.

Your legs were already sprawled wide open-- a reward for my tremendous bravery. I lick my lips. I notice a white string sticking out from your underwear, and I reach out to gently tug on it. It looks stuck, and I wrap the string around my finger and give it an extra hard pull.

What could that be? I know you’re on your period, and I still have your pad that I grabbed from the trashcan earlier. I sort of understand what a period is, and all I really know is that the sight of your blood causes my head to spin. I pushed your panties to the side, and my curiosity piqued as I slowly removed the feminine product out of you.

I inspect the hygiene product I haven't really seen before. It looks different from a pad, and in my opinion it looks like a sperm— well the shape anyways. I put the tampon in my mouth, gently suckling it as if I were an infant. You taste salty, copper-like, and your plasma is warm. It's almost soothing. I then let the tampon fall out of my mouth. I tug on your underwear, pull it down from your legs, and stuff it into my pocket.

I rub my hands on your thighs, and I can feel the slight stubble on your legs. My fingers graze over your sex, and it follows the outline of your pussy. I put your legs on my shoulders, my head then leaning down so my tongue can lick stripes on your slit. The tip of my tongue touches the wet curls of your hair, and a frisson of pleasure runs down my spine. Your cunt is an eesome sight, the hair dampened by my saliva, and it covered your core like it was protecting the most precious jewel. And in a sense it was. I become more brazen, a single finger pushing inside you, and my jaw dropped at the sight of you sucking my finger in. You welcomed it so nicely, and there was a nice pressure of tightness.

I curl the single digit, intently staring at your face for any reactions towards my fingering. I use my thumb to circle your clit. I have read that some women can't come based on penetration alone. Hopefully, my tongue and fingers can help bring you to the brink of an orgasm.

I also hope that you never wake up. How else am I supposed to memorize your body? Would you even think that I am worthy of you? Or would you run away just by seeing my face alone? Would you think I'm crazy, or would you be flattered by the way I devour your cunt like it's my last meal? I hold your hips down firmly onto the bed, you're slowly squirming around and starting to gain consciousness.

It's like I'm drowning in a never-ending pool of crimson, and no matter how many times I swipe my tongue, it just oozes out of you so effortlessly. Your aroma is intoxicating, and it's like your body lured me--the prey-- into your little trap of ...

"Where are you going...?" I instinctively mutter as I miss the presence of your warmth against my mouth. You seem to crawl away, your limbs trying to save you from the repeated administrations of teasing.

My eyes shoot open as I realize that you're screaming. I immediately reel back, my ass landing onto the hard floor and I wince. "Shit-- I'm sorry!"

I scramble onto my feet and I try to duck every pillow you throw at me. I trip on my way out, and the wind gets knocked the fuck out of me as my bottom half got stuck in your window.

"This is literally my worst nightmare...!" I grunt as I try to wiggle my hips. I feel pain coming from my crotch, it's compressed against the window sill, and of course my dick had to be as hard as a rock.

You continue to hit whatever you see-- which means my ass. I yelp as you put your hands on my bottom, and you muster as much strength as you can to get me out of your house.

Why is this oddly arousing?

With one final shove I landed onto my face.

There's nothing dignifying about walking down the street with a clear boner and a bloody nose. I just look like a pervert that got punched after leering at someone. Wait.

No, that's not what I was doing. I'm not a pervert. I just have wandering eyes that are glued to whatever you're doing. I just happened to notice how your chest bounced around when you were running late and had to run out of the house. I happened to carry a tiny vial to collect any fluid and essences that dripped out of you after our encounter. My hand reached into my pocket, and I sighed in relief as I am comforted by the soft material of your panties and of the long plastic tube. I feel a sense of relief knowing that they didn't fall out as you kicked me out.

Am I crazy? No. Am I the only man you'll ever meet that has done this to you? Probably. I am one of a kind, after all.

Allure: Someone slap some sense into him.

[localkiss]

Heavenly sin

virgin pastor's son!leon kennedy x virgin fem!reader

cw: guilt!! p in v, porn watching (has some "intense" sex ig??), needy sex, virginity loss, creampies, thinking about god during sex, humping (dry at one point), oral (f receiving), awkwardness, CHECK-INS!!!, dirty talk, begging, soft ish dom!leon, pet names, mentions of daddy kink but only once, pregnancy mentioned a couple times, Leon's a sweetheart, goofy ending, rough ish treatment only once, confessions!!

wc: 6k...🧍🏻‍♀️

note: barely proof read and I don't know shit about church or anything like that... Lmk if I missed any tags! Also inspired by @moolvn's bot!

@valkyrurr @rigorwhoring @marymustdie @tatumrileyslover @frostywintersnow @queenofstresss haii yall ! :3

It's around 10 in the morning, and you're dressed in a flowy black dress with flower patterns on it. Perfect for church and for this wonderful spring weather. Pulling your hair back into a low ponytail, you get out of your parents car. They have already gone inside the church.

Walking briskly to the entrance, you take note of the flowers that are planted on each side that're beginning to bloom in the glowy sunlight. You make it in time to sit next to your parents before the prayer begins.

You bow your head and begin to listen to it. Soft shuffling is heard, and then there's a warmth on your right side, as if a heater were turned on.

Peaking out of your right eye, you see the pastor's son, Leon. Dressed in dark wash jeans and a white button up. He tilts his head towards you and smiles, mouthing, "Hello."

You smile and shake your head, closing your eyes to listen in on his father recite a prayer, so that the Holy Spirit will help us all understand God's words.

Despite trying to listen to him preach, your mind wanders off to the boy next to you. How his muscles ripple underneath his shirts. (which are always fitting for him. Like how?) And the way his beautiful oceanic eyes shine with purity. Especially when he's preaching about how God is constantly saving and bettering him and how important he truly is in his life. The way his brown hair flows in the wind and how it falls into his eye whenever he looks down.

It's all beautiful to you. You'd rather worship Leon than God. Would it be a sin to worship man instead of the Lord? Probably.

Every time you spoke with Leon, you felt dirty. You were filled with these disgusting, sinful feelings. You were afraid of it rubbing off on him and getting into trouble. Getting called the devil. Shunned and kicked out of the house for having feelings you didn't know how to fucking handle.

After all, you were only human. One with needs, thoughts, feelings, and insatiable cravings for a certain man beside you.

Once the pastor stops the prayer, everything else goes by quickly. You try not to stare at Leon while his father is reading aloud hymns. But it's impossible.

He catches your eye and flashes you a boyish smile. You look away. It's quite embarrassing to have been caught staring at him. You couldn't help it.

A couple hours later, the service ends. You get up and stretch your limbs, ready to leave.

A large hand grabs onto your forearm. Warmth surges through your veins, all the way up to your midsection.

Turning your head, you see that it's Leon. 

He lets go of you with a smile. "Are you busy today? I was wondering if you'd like to come over."

Biting your lip, you think for a moment. Looking over at your parents, they give you a nod of approval.

"I'm free. I can come over today." 

Both of you walk towards the exit, and he opens the door like a gentleman. You mutter a small "thank you" and step outside. 

The cool, light breeze washes over your body like a cold shower. It feels refreshing after being in a stuffy room for more than an hour. Breathing it in and letting it out, you turn towards Leon.

He squints at you with a small smile, motioning to follow him. You oblige, putting your hands on the bottom of your dress and bunching up the fabric so that it doesn't fly up.

By the time you guys make it to his house, your feet are dying in the black flats you're wearing. Rubbed raw on your heels by your pinky and big toes.

You sigh in relief as you enter his house, slipping your shoes off by the door.

The both of you walk into the kitchen and grab a cup of water. Heading upstairs to his room. You try to push down the nerves and excitement bubbling in your guts, but it's so hard. 

All you guys ever do is read, listen to the radio, and talk about your guys's jobs. Not all exciting, but laying in his bed and being so close to him is what gets your panties soaked. Maybe you are the devil's spawn. Getting aroused by just being in Leon's vicinity. It's bad. Real bad.

He opens his door and walks in, laying down on his plush queen-sized bed. His hair falls to the sides of his face as he closes his eyes. Breathing in deeply and then exhaling slowly.

You sit on the bed, eyeing him up while his eyes are closed. Noticing the way his veins on his hands are popping out, the small little freckles that paint his face and neck, and the way his lips look so velvety.

Wondering what it would feel like between your legs, your calves, and your neck. You shouldn't be thinking about him like this. It's wrong. But it feels so right.

"So, uh, what are we going to do?" You mutter quietly, tearing your gaze away from the white man beside you.

"I thought that we could just hang out." 

"Okay." You scratch your head for a moment, looking at one of the posters on his wall. It's a poster for The Legend of Zelda, Ocarina of Time. It's probably one of the only games his parents approve of. 

"Actually, hold on." He sits up slowly and begins to walk towards his desk, fishing something out. He holds up a CD with a grin. "I found this lying around on the bookstore floor. I thought that we could check it out."

Motioning with a nod of his head towards his computer. The thick monitor has the circular silver Dell logo on it at the bottom. Paired with his grey and black mouse.

Popping it into his PC as it whirrs on, you snatch his swiveling chair, making him sit on the uncomfortable wooden chair next to it. Maybe you should get a new best friend, thinking about how you come over so much that he has gotten another chair just in case you guys get on his computer.

You take over and open the Windows Media Player, then double-click on the CD's name. Spice it up in the bedroom! What an odd name. 

Turning up the volume on his mini speakers that're alongside his monitor as you wait for the media to load.

A woman and a man appear in the frame, with a messy bed behind them. She's hardly wearing any clothing, only her undergarments and stockings are on her figure. Meanwhile, the man is only dressed in his briefs.

You feel your cheeks burn red hot, swallowing thickly at the video. Afraid of what's going to happen next and afraid of looking at Leon after this surprise of a CD, you continue to look straight ahead.

They don't even introduce themselves, but they say one thing: "Here's how to spice things up in the bedroom. Watch and learn."

Shifting in the cushiony chair, you unconsciously grab onto the armrests.

The next part shows the woman lying down with her legs spread open. The man walks into the frame and sits on the floor next to the end of the bed. Putting his face in between her legs, he kisses her thighs. Trailing up to the bend of her knees and then to her ankles. Repeating the same for her other leg. 

Then he begins to leave small bite marks and bruises on her inner thighs. With each of them, her hips jump, and small moans leave her lips.  

You squeeze your thighs together, feeling your most sacred parts ache with need. Hoping Leon doesn't notice it. 

But he did, just didn't want to point it out and embarrass the both of you even more than you guys already are. He's always staring at you subtly. He's not doing any better on his end, cock filling out in his jeans, begging to be freed from its confinement.

He's just thinking about the kind of noises you'd make if he kissed you there. But he shouldn't think about that. His heart sinks into his stomach, feeling guilty for even having those sorts of thoughts about you from time to time. He wanted to baptize himself again and again until those thoughts clouded him no more.

Leon always had to shower in cold water to make all of the pent-up need go away from his dick. He was afraid to touch himself. Especially to the thought of you. He thought you didn't deserve to be sexualized. How wrong it is to even imagine your lips on his! How soft and plush you'd be against his body.

Feeling like the devil has made its way into both of your bodies. Lust coats both of your frontal lobes, coaxing you into continuing to watch this sinful CD. 

The man begins to lick and kiss her panties which makes her noises grow louder and breathier. You hope to God that his parents don't come home anytime soon.  

He slips her panties off, and her precious parts are exposed to the camera. Leon makes a small gasping sound, and you snap your head towards him.  

"Leon, I.. I don't know if we should watch this. This is... wrong. I feel dirty, Leon." You search his eyes, hoping he'll agree, but he just blinks slowly at you.  

"I-I think we should continue. Don't act like this doesn't pique your interest," he mutters back. His eyes are slowly beginning to darken. 

Turning your focus on the screen, you hear him noisily slurping away between her thighs. The woman begins to get louder, and her fingers slot through his hair and pull him closer.  

She yells out, "I'm cumming!" And soon her legs squeezed shut on his head, her body convulsing and lunging forward to curl in on itself.  

"Fuck baby, that was so hot," He comes up and kisses her, grabbing a fistful of her hair and flipping her over onto her stomach. Fumbling with his black briefs, tugging them down and stepping out of them.  

You squirm uncomfortably, not sure if you can handle seeing a random man naked. But you gulp down the bile crawling up your throat, mixed in with sickening guilt.  

His cock stands up to attention, the tip as red as a tomato. A patch of hair surrounds it, leading down between his legs. He strokes it a couple of times, lolling his head back with a loud groan.  

"You ready, slut?" Tapping himself against her folds. 

"Y-Yes sir, I'm ready." The woman frantically nods and pushes up on her elbows, watching him sink into her hole.  

He grips her hair as soon as he's fully sheathed inside, pulling her towards him. Making her see how they're connected. You bite your lip as you watch this couple go at it for about five minutes. Watching them change positions and get louder and louder with each minute that passes by.  

He puts his hand on her throat and slaps her face, breasts, ass, and privates. It all makes you feel fuzzy inside, like you drank too much alcohol. The world is slowly starting to spin, with all thoughts going straight down between your thighs.  

But the way he talks to her is what really gets you.  

"You like that slut? Fuckin' taking daddy's cock so well, fuck."  

"Good girl. I know you can take it." 

"Yeah, cum on me, baby, squeeze this fat dick."  

"Stupid fucking whore, practically crying for me to creampie this tight little pussy. Isn't that right, baby? God, you know you want my cum stuffed in you."  

Her punched-out moans—the way she's clawing at the bed and sometimes at him—is what gets Leon excited. The way she can't even say anything remotely coherent to the man gets him so hard, it fucking hurts. Leon's boxers are practically stuck to his cock. 

Leon's hand drifts towards his groin, shifting it so it doesn't press against the zipper of his jeans. He lets out a soft hiss, putting a hand to his mouth as he slumps back against the wooden chair. Leaning onto the left armrest.  

Your ears pick up on Leon's strained noise, and you pull your knees up to your chest, breathing heavily between them. It's almost over, you think to yourself. Just a couple more minutes, and we can do something else. Forget about this, and maybe read the Bible to cleanse our minds.  

The guy on the screen pulls her up so her back is flushed against his chest, his arm wrapped around her throat to keep her there. Her body is shaking uncontrollably, and he groans deeply, thrusting a couple more times before he comes to a halt.  

"Fuck, baby girl, fuck. Take it. Mmhh, I want to get you pregnant so bad. Gonna suck on those fat tits until they're squirting milk into my mouth. I'm gonna love seeing you so swollen and full of my seed. God damn."  

That's it. He pulls out of her, and you can vaguely see a white liquid pooling out of her and onto the bed. Her body is so red and bruised. It makes you take a deep breath.  

By clicking out of it, you eject the disk and put it on the desk. Quickly shutting down his PC.  

Both of you sit there in silence for a little while. Afraid to look at one another.  

The air is so thick and hot, as if someone turned a heater on. It would make sense, as both of you have red faces and sweaty palms.  

Leon's the first one to clear his throat and shift in his seat. "So, um. What did we watch?"  

"For heavens sake, we just watched two people make love, Leon!" You whisper-yell at him, looking directly into his eyes.  

He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth and looks to the side, clearly embarrassed. "Right."  

You get up and flop onto his bed, face first. The coolness of his sheets is washing over you like an ice pack. 

Leon sits next to you, practically burning his gaze on your thighs. Lost in thought of the possibility of doing something like what you both saw just mere moments ago. His hips are bucking upwards, seeking relief. Looking like a damn fool for humping the air.  

"Do you think that felt good? Would God like...allow them to seek pleasure like that?" You mumble into the bed.  

"I think so, but I don't know if God would be happy if they were to continue..without repenting for their sins and asking for forgiveness."  

Yeah, you figured he would respond like that.

"I feel gross, Leon."  

"Me too."  

You turn on your side and look him up and down slowly. "Are you... aroused?" 

Leon gulps and tilts down to meet your gaze with a small nod.  

"Me too." Your voice is soft and hushed. Rubbing your thighs together for some relief.  

At this point, you don't even care. God this. God that. Those women at the church don't seem to care when they get pregnant. They just pray and repent for their sins and move on with their day like nothing happened. So, God doesn't fucking care if you have intercourse or not. So long as you ask for forgiveness.  

His baby blues drop to your lips and back up, licking his own lips. Then, he leans down and boxes you between his firm body and the plush bed.  

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel him tremble above you. Heart thumping wildly in your ears, wondering if he can hear it too.  

Unconsciously, your legs spread open to accommodate his hips. He shifts his weight nervously, his groin settling on top of yours.  

Both of you moan and buck your hips towards one another, wanting more. Becoming insatiable beasts filled only with lust and need. Logic? God? Who needs that when you have horniness on the brain?  

Leon groans and buries his face in your neck, panting hotly against your skin as he begins to dry hump you. "Please... It-It hurts. I'm sorry." He stops himself from rambling on, nosing up to your earlobe.  

"Leon, it feels really good. Don't—don't stop, please." 

His hips stutter, and he lets out a soft whimper, touching his forehead to yours. "May I... may I do what the video showed, to you?"  

"Yes," you say as you connect your lips to his, tangling your hands into his thick locks of brown hair. Lightly pulling on it, earning you a groan into your mouth and a thrust against your clothed mound. 

Tongues uniting sloppily, moans spewing out, and desire floating in the air. A perfect recipe for disaster. 

He sits up on his knees, his eyes blown out, his lips red and glossy with spit. How can he get even prettier? It's not fair. It really isn't. God really gave him the best of the best, honestly.  

Leon quickly made work of his button-up, throwing it across the room. His wife beater is the only article of clothing shielding you from seeing his chest and abdomen. What a shame. Though you do see a small silver chain, most likely it is his cross that he always wears, no matter what.  

Breathing out of his mouth like his nose is fucking clogged, he hesitantly reaches up to the hem of your dress. "May I?" He whispers, pushing it up to where your shorts stop at your waist.  

You nod, your hips lifting up to help him get rid of your dress. It soon hits the floor next to his shirt. Immediately feeling embarrassed, you cover your black bra with your hands.  

Leon just stares in awe, his hands slowly trailing up your sides and tracing every contour and bend in your body.  

"So beautiful," he mumbles. His thumb feels nice and is also ticklish where the sun doesn't see your body. He carefully removes your arms away from your bosom, kissing the inner parts of your wrists and making eye contact with you for the entirety of this undressing. 

You gasp as he kisses down to your clavicles, making sure to take his time mapping out your figure with his lips now. Dipping down to your cleavage, his hands grab ahold of your waist, thumbs rubbing against the wire of your bra.  

Leon presses his lips across your entire chest, making your skin buzz and your soul leave your body. 

Never in your life would you have imagined Leon doing this to you in his own bed.  

He fumbles with pulling your cups down, trying to get rid of the bra. "Can you, um.. take this off?"  

You lean forward and unclip it, letting it fall forward into your lap. Getting your arms out of the straps, you are now topless in front of him. Topless in front of someone for the first time ever.  

God is getting ready to punish the both of you for sinning, and you know it. Closing your eyes tightly for a few moments as you try to battle with continuing or just leaving Leon to deal with his own battle. That would be just mean. And if you were going to sin, why not together?  

Gulping down the acid that clawed its way up your pipes once more, you shake off the guilt as much as you can. Opening your eyes, you see Leon getting closer to your chest. Ready to plant his love on them.  

He slowly kisses around your areolas, nosing his way from breast to breast. You let out a nervous giggle as he makes eye contact with you as best he can.  

Finally making contact with your nipples, he dips his tongue out and swirls around it. Pulling away with a soft 'pop', you card your fingers through his hair.  

"Did that feel good?"  

"Yeah, it felt really nice." You give him a shy smile, and he returns it.  

Leon does the same to the other one before leaning back and admiring you once more. "You are honestly beautiful." 

Covering your face with your arms, you push him with your knee, mumbling an embarrassed "thank you." You still have your manners, even for being the devil's best friend.  

Some shuffling, and you peek through your arms and see he's taking off his white wife beater. You bite your lip and shift to your haunches, running your hands up his abdomen. Mesmerized by the way his muscles tense under your fingertips, dipping down to a small patch of hair trailing down beneath his jeans.  

Smiling up at him, you wish to return the favor. Putting your lips near the belt of his pants, kissing each of his hip bones softly. His body twitches towards you, and he lets out a broken moan, putting his hands on your shoulders. You decide to be experimental and graze your teeth all the way up his stomach, stopping at his chest. Leon's sounds are going straight down south; you'll be surprised if your shorts aren't completely wet by now too. 

"Can I?" You grab ahold of the button on his jeans, toying with it. Asking him for permission to undress him as well. He shakes his head, yes, and you immediately start undoing his fly. With a soft gasp, you see his bulge with a wet spot near the tip, staining his dark blue boxers. You continue to tug his pants down to his thighs so he can do the rest himself.  

Leon's pants join the rest of your clothes on the floor. You shimmy your shorts and tights off. Both of you dressed in your undergarments.  

You lay back, eyes on his cross necklace, hoping that God will accept you both as you are after this experience. Making love before marriage isn't acceptable, and you've been told your bodies are sacred temples and to not let anyone in or touch you inappropriately. Both of you would be shunned, and God knows what else would happen. 

Leon begins to kiss his way down to your ankles and back up between your thighs. Slowly breathing in the scent of you. Pressing a few on your clothed mound, making you squirm, your thighs daring to close on his head. He gently pushes them away and up as he leaves little love bites where your legs connect to your most sacred spot. 

Moaning softly, you cover your mouth. Your eyes dare to roll back into your head as you try and watch Leon explore your features before he removes the last article of clothing, keeping him away from seeing you completely bare. He moans into your panties, kitten-licking to taste your arousal. He is doing his best to try and copy the video from earlier. 

"Please, Leon.." you whine, your hips pushing against his face, aching for more.

Leon nods his head and nuzzles against you, his nose stimulating you even further. He pulls away to remove your panties to dive back in. 

Getting messy with it, he drools onto your folds, pressing open-mouth kisses all over. Paying attention to where you moan and squirm the most. 

He dips his tongue down into your pulsating hole and groans, his eyes rolling back at the taste of you. "Tastes s'good, baby," he continues to ravage your poor, sensitive pussy, iron grip, keeping your thighs open. 

You squeak and grab ahold of his hair, trying to push him away as you feel an unfamiliar warmth spread throughout your body. "Leon! Wait, wait, I-I—" 

Leon moves his mouth up to your little pearl and begins to suck and nibble on it. That's what truly sends you over the edge. 

Back bowing, legs shaking, head thrown back with your mouth open in a silent scream. You can't even feel your lower half; pins and needles are crawling down your legs and into your feet. You're sure your legs snapped shut on his head, as you feel him so much more now. 

Soon you come back into reality with Leon hovering over you, his dick freed from its prison, poking your thigh. "You okay? Did that feel good, my love?" It's so sweet how he's checking in with you after giving you the best time of your life! 

"Y-Yeah," you breathe out heavily, pulling him closer by his silver cross. Toying with it between your fingertips. "That felt amazing. Thank you." 

Giving him a soft, sensual kiss. Tasting a bitter liquid on his lips. He chases you as soon as you part, dipping his tongue between your lips and asking for more. You oblige, and his thick muscle is invading your cavern, touching each tooth and swirling around your own tongue. It's turning hot and heavy as he presses his hips into yours, putting weight on you. 

He starts humping your leg, his cock pulsating and leaking transparent sticky fluids on your skin. He is moaning and panting into your mouth as he cups your breasts. Slowly pulling away as he takes you in once more, completely infatuated with you, it seems. And it also seems the feeling is reciprocated by yours truly. 

"Can I put it in, please?" Leon grabs ahold of his dick and clumsily strokes it over your cunt. His body is stuttering forward, and his grip on your breast is tightening just slightly. 

Biting your swollen bottom lip, you nod slowly. Bracing yourself for the intrusion down there. It doesn't even look like he'll fit inside of you; you're afraid he's going to somehow rip you apart down there. But you push down the fear with a shaky sigh. 

"Just, um.. let me know if it hurts," he swipes through your folds a few times before sinking into you gradually. 

Your body tenses up, and you grab hold of his hand, squeezing it as you let out high pitched breathy whimpers. Squeezing your eyes shut as you try to get used to his size. You can't believe he's taking your virginity. 

"W-wait, stop, stop, please... It hurts." You feel tears forming in your eyes, and Leon immediately halts. 

Pressing chaste kisses to your eyes and one on your lips, his body bucks forward. With a groan, he murmurs, "God damn. I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby."

Your pussy flutters around his length, and you breathe in and out, getting used to him. Canting your hips up to get more of him on your terms, you roll your hips with a gasp and say, "Leon."

He takes that as a sign to push more of himself into you, filling you to the brim. Shifting to lay down on his forearms, next to your head, you wrap your legs around his waist. Your nails dig lightly into his back, eliciting a low growl from him as he tries to calm himself down. Too aroused with the feeling of you wrapped around his shaft so tightly that he can't even begin to think properly. 

Taking a quick breather so that he doesn't accidentally fall on top of you. Lazily humping against you, stimulating your clitoral area while being so goddamn full of him. 

"Baby, god," Leon starts to clumsily push in and out of your sopping heat. Barely even disconnecting himself from you. If anything, he doesn't ever want to pull out of you. You feel too good; it would greatly upset him to stop now. 

It feels so intimate as he continues to hold your hand, sloppily kissing you as his dick slowly penetrates you deeper and deeper. Swallowing each other's noises, afraid of getting caught by his parents, is always lingering in the back of your mind. 

"Mmnn, you're so tight, it's hard to move." Leon drops his forehead onto yours, staring at you intensely. His eyes are soft yet lustful, carrying love in them, you see. 

Maybe you just hope that he loves you because you've loved him all your life. Having known him since you were 4 and he was 6, you couldn't have asked for anyone else to take your virginity but him. Even though he's the pastor's son. 

"I love you," you can't help but blurt out. Biting your lip as he speeds up his movements for a few thrusts before going back to his lazy ones. 

"You mean it?" He pants heavily into your mouth, feeling you nod your head against his. "I love you too. God, I really, really do. I promise, baby." 

With those heartfelt (sort of) confessions, he begins to pick up his pace.

Growling softly when you clench around him or make squeaky noises that can't be discerned by a whimper or a moan. He loves you and all your little noises. The freckles that paint your body. The way your body curves and your stretch marks—everything about you is so gorgeous to him. He wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. He's tried giving you signs and hints that he wants to be your boyfriend, but he is always too scared to say it outright. But now he's glad about how things turned out. Including giving you his virginity.

You claw at his chest, grabbing ahold of his necklace as he fucks you harder. Looking down at his member, you see a white ring around his base. Throwing your head back into his pillows, you feel another orgasm creeping up your body. 

"I'm gonna—it's gonna happen again, Leon, mmphh," you whine out as your legs try to close up, only to be blocked by his body. 

Leon lets out a pained whimper, and then all of a sudden he grips onto your hair and starts to gently bite under your jawline next to your earlobe. It's syrupy and slow this time; your mind goes fuzzy and blank. No thoughts, just Leon. And his manhood bumps into your cervix. 

"Please, let me... inside—can I?" His words are all jumbled up, and you can't help but say yes. 

He speeds up even more, which seems impossible, but it really isn't. It has your chest bouncing with each thrust, and soft cries are leaving your lips. He keeps on holding onto your hair and hand, bringing your face up to meet him halfway to make out with you. Drooling into your mouth and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. With each thrust, his necklace bumps into your neck. 

Hips stuttering into yours, he almost collapses onto your figure. Threatening to bury you into his mattress as he lazily thrusts a couple more times.

A hot liquid squirts into your womb, and Leon lets out a strained moan, dropping his head into your neck. Slowly letting go of your hair and letting your scalp relax after such harsh treatment. Your cunt clenches around him tightly. 

His hips continue to jerk into yours, almost making sure his cum stays inside of you. It's like his body already knows what to do after watching one video of people making love. 

Leon presses soft kisses up to your temple before getting off of you. Shifting back to his haunches, he hesitantly pulls out of your hole. Watching your cunt flutter around nothing, his seed slowly drips out of your hole. His dick jumps, hitting his toned stomach, almost ready to jump back into action for round two. 

"Baby, just so beautiful. I love you." 

You can't help but giggle at that, making more of the sticky white liquid squirt out of your hole and onto his sheets. He quickly notices that and grabs a few tissues to wipe it off, leaving you and himself clean. 

"I love you too, pretty boy," you sigh deeply, truly enamored with the way Leon just is. He's so sweet without even trying. 

You go to sit up and grab your undergarments, but your legs are too shaky to even stand up, and you almost fall over. Leon maneuvers you back onto his bed and fetches it all for you. Getting himself dressed as well. 

Hell, maybe it wasn't so bad to become a sinner. It was definitely a heavenly sin, that's for sure. 

You two stare at each other, lips swollen red, eyes swallowed by the black and flushed pink faces. Your hands interlocked as you slowly began to kiss. But this time, it's much sweeter and softer. No rush to feel skin on skin; just relaxing in the now. 

"What're we going to do?" Mumbling into the kiss, you pull away. 

"What do you mean?" 

"You.. you did it inside of me. What if I get pregnant? I can't be a mother right now, Leon," you frown, looking down at your stomach. 

"I'll figure it out, okay? And—And if you do end up carrying my child, I'll be there. I'm not just going to leave you."

And with that, your worries washed away, nodding alongside his words as if they were God's words. In a way, he is God to you. Constantly saving you, bettering you, loving you unconditionally, and listening to you. You'd get on your knees any day for Leon. He'd just have to say the word, and you'd do it. 

"Was I too rough? Are you hurt anywhere?" He presses a few chaste kisses on your forehead and temple. 

"No, but I am hurting... down there. It feels a little sore. But everything else is fine." You give him a thumbs-up with a goofy grin. He returns the silly smile, nuzzling your jawline. 

"I can see if there's any ibuprofen; I'll be right back, okay?" 

Shortly, he returns with two pills and sets them in your palm, bringing your water over to you. You take them with a gulp of water. 

"I think I've got to use the restroom as well. I'll be back." You let out a breath and walked into the bathroom across the hall. Doing your business, flushing, and then washing your hands before returning back to him. 

Joining him on his bed, under the covers, to snuggle up close to him. 

"You're so warm. I love it." 

"I'm glad you do, sweetheart." 

You both end up talking for a few more hours about work, your friends, hobbies, and, lastly, how long you've liked one another. 

"Wait, wait, wait," you giggle and lay on your elbows, resting your head in your palm. "You've liked me ever since elementary school? Why haven't you told me?" 

"I tried. I tried giving you hints; I even brought you a flower that one time, remember? And, like, I always let you borrow my shirts and sweaters. I thought that was enough, and you saw that, and, uh, just didn't like me back." Leon rolls his eyes and pulls you into his arms. Attacking you with kisses on your ear and behind it.

You squeal and squirm in his grasp, letting out a breathy, "Okay, okay! I see it now!" 

"What about you?" 

"Since middle school. Remember the time on Valentine's Day when I gave you like all my candies? And then, when we did bingo at church, I gave you my prize and said I didn't want it. Yeah, well... I wanted it, but I gave it to you instead." 

"So cute. I love you, baby bug," he mumbles into your neck. 

"I love you too, handsome," you answer into his shoulder. 

It is safe to say that you both fell asleep holding onto each other. With smiles on your faces. You both are dreaming of the day that you both get married and have the whole white picket fence, dog, children, and everything in between.

You'd risk your relationship with God again if it meant that you'd be with Leon forever.

He would absolutely risk being called a devil's spawn if it meant that he'd get to be your lover forever. 

Maybe God would forgive you if you decided to sin again and again. As long as you are happy, it doesn't matter what happens. If and only if, you have Leon, the pastor's son, in your arms, everything will be alright.

[lovifie]

An Offer You Won't Refuse

Bottom Price x Top Gaz | Smut - 2.543 words (Back to Masterlist)

CW: handjob, meanish Price, blowjob, rimming, anal sex and a kiss on the lips hehehe

Price knew how important it was to have the team at its peak condition, and to do so; he knew it was important to boost the morale of the team and help with… pent-up energy.

Especially when they would find themselves tucked in a safe house, keeping guard to make sure no enemy could sneak up on them. Which usually required one of them to remain stuck to a window with a sniper, keeping an eye out for any approaching vehicle.

Simon was an expert at it, the man was able to stay in position for days if required. No need for breaks, no reduction of attention while doing the job, the sniper gun one more limb of his body.

Price was second to it, the years of experience making it easier as times passed, but as his responsibilities grew so did his number of distractions, making him lose his focus more easily. 

Soap had his own approach to sniper duty, while usually the soldier would stay lying down with the sight on the scope, the scotsman usually remained seated using his own eyes to look out; swiftly moving down to the gun the second he saw anything. 

Gaz struggles the most with the sniper position. Too restless, constantly switching positions, unable to stay still for too long. The captain finds it endearing how the sergeant would try his very best to stay still, futile attempt after futile attempt. 

He knew it was a tic-tac bomb when he was looking out the window, still; he always loved to sit behind the sergeant. Seeing how he tried to concealedly rub his growing erection against the ground looking for some kind of friction. Cute. 

The four men were used to spending months together, within the same walls more of the time or cramped inside a minuscule tent. More than once have they need to turn a blind eye to something that was obviously happening under the covers.

And just as many times have they ignored when two of them have suddenly decided to take the first turn to take guard. Whatever keeps their mind focused on the important task. 

So when the young sergeant seems more focused on fucking the floor than keeping an eye out, Price is quick to call him out. 

“Focus, Garrick.” His deep voice travelling to the man, the vibrations of his voice running almost through the ground to his dick. 

“Shit, Cap’tain, can you… He groans, obviously aware he has just been caught red-handed. “Can you get in for a sec? Need to wee.” 

“Don't lie to your captain, Kyle.” Price says, pushing himself from the wall he was leaning on to walk to the sergeant. He can hear Kyle groan, defeated. Price stands next to him, looking down at him and he notices how Gaz’s hips are elevated from the ground. 

An evil smile appearing on Price’s face before he set his boot on top of the sergeant’s ass pushing his hips down making him hiss. It makes Price chuckle, slightly rolling his boot over the younger man’s body to create more friction between him and the ground. 

He notices Gaz’s hands shake on the gun and he removes his boot from his body, instead lying down next to him, looking up. He turns his head to look at the sergeant, smile still on his face. “So… wanna try that again?”

Kyle’s eyes furrow, not understanding the captain's question. “So-sorry, sir?” He asks, side-eyeing him for a second before looking forward again; he knows he is already in trouble, he doesn't need to make it worse.

And although Price likes to pride himself on his self-control and ability to keep his instincts and needs out of his mind; he too, has fallen for the sergeant’s charm. For his full lips, honey-coloured eyes and perfect smile. The fact that the sergeant also has the best ass he has seen in his life is just a bonus.

That's why only Gaz is surprised when Price moves his hand between the sergeant’s chest and the ground. Slowly but swiftly moving down.

“It's important to focus on the job, Kyle. You can't be distracted with external things.” Price says, looking at the sergeant's face, seeing his slightly opened mouth. 

“I know, sir.” Kyle says, eyes focused on the scope, trying his best to ignore the wide hand moving down his body. 

“Better to take care of… the distractions, right?” Price asks him, his fingertips resting over the buckle, teasing him.

“Affirmative, Sir.” Kyle answers, fighting every urge to take his clothes off himself. 

Price takes a long time to answer, wanting to make the man wait. “This is a really important mission, Sergeant.”

“I know, sir.” He answers, repeating his words. He moves his weight to his side, urging the man to move without talking.

“There is a lot at risk.” Price continues, after a long pause again. His hand still resting on the buckle, not giving Kyle the pleasure he so badly wants. 

“Sir, please.” Kyle says, sighing when he no longer can see when all of his senses are on the feeling of his captain's hand so close to his groin. “I can't focus like this… please.”

Price chuckles beside him, his eyes catching how his lower lip trembles, pupils dilating every time his hand twitches. The Sergeant still hasn't looked at the Captain once, so well-behaved that even Price is impressed. 

That's why he pities him, getting his belt and pants undone so he can finally free his hardening dick.

The feeling of the captain's calloused hand around his length it's what finally makes Kyle close his eyes, sighing at the satisfaction of finally getting the desired friction.

Price smiles, enjoying the little game that he has created. He was already aware of the power he had over the sergeant, blind trust and obedience in him; but still, it was a different feeling from seeing the man buck his hips against his fist. 

His hand is dry, not even having bothered to spit in it; but Kyle doesn't seem to mind the burn of the dry skin against his most sensible member. His head falls down, biting his lips to keep himself from moaning, but his hips still move in a disordered rhythm, as if his mind was telling him not to do it but his body was moving against his will.

“Eyes on the objective, sergeant.” Price orders, smile still plastered on his face when he sees Kyle whip his head back up, eyes on the scope and in the search for any possible threat. 

But Price's hand still moves along his shaft, tugging at it on his way down, making the sergeant move his hips along. It's Price the one that manages to get Kyle's hips into the rhythm, making him move them up when he moves his hand down and vice versa, his fist meeting his pubic bone when Kyle thrust forward. 

Such delicious sounds and cries fell from Kyle’s mouth, urging the Captain to give him more, make him cry louder, thrust harder, make him unable to hold the gun. But it is his fault for choosing such a great soldier, because from his chest up, the sergeant is focused on outside of the building. 

So Price changes his strategy, instead of working along with Kyle, he makes him work for it. He stops moving his hand, keeping it within reach but barely past the middle of the sergeant's thick length. It makes the sergeant thrust lower, his exposed tip rubbing the hard floor making him hiss. “Cap’tain…”

Price looks down, to where the angry tip of the sergeant keeps hitting the ground, the pleasure from his hand enough to make the pain worth it. But he pities him, moving his hand lower and engulfing the sergeant tip on his fist.

“Fuck, harder, please…” The sergeant whisper, his hands twitching on his hold of the gun almost wanting to move it lower along with his captain’s to fuck his fist the way he wants. 

“Don't tell me how to wank you off, Garrick.” Price chuckles with an eyebrow raised, closing his fist just a tad harder than what Kyle wanted making him groan as his hips buckle.

“Sorry, sir.” He moans the apology. It was a delicious torture, the touch of his captain borderline painful but still making him unable to hold still, the gun that was resting on the floor still weighed a ton with the way he tried to keep his hands from slipping from it. 

He just wants so badly to grab both of Price’s hands, making them cup his lengthy dick and fuck them, his angry tip poking through them with each thrust; spitting on them just to hear the squelching sound of his saliva between his captain fingers. 

Instead, he can only shallowly thrust into his hand to prevent himself from peeling the skin of his dick against the floor, trying his best to keep himself from whining at the lack of more friction. But still, the barely there feeling of his captain's hands has him losing control of his lower body. 

Price’s eyes are stuck on his ass, on how his asscheeks clench whenever he thrust forward, the sergeant's dick twitching on his hand with his approaching orgasm. He looks at the sergeant’s face, smiling when he notices he has once again let his head fall down. Eyes closed and moans sliping easily off his open mouth, and he decides to make him an offer.

"C'mon, sergeant... I thought you were pent up and that's why you wanted to change positions… I offer you something... If we kill this motherfucker before the week is over... I'll let you fuck the real thing."

And it is that what throws Kyle over the edge, splattering his seed over his captain's hand and onto the floor. He grunts as he does, his captain’s name spilling from his mouth in barely a whisper. 

Price wipes his hand on the floor, propping himself on his elbow to pat the sergeant's butt. “That’s a good boy, you can relax now, sergeant. Ghost has been on the top floor for half an hour now with the sniper.”

Price still thought it has been hilarious to tease the sergeant like that, both with making him look out the window during the whole ordeal and with the way he took advantage of the neediness of him to give him the half-assed handjob he gave him. 

What he didn't think was so funny, was when Thursday afternoon hit and the head of the organisation they were following got the top of his head blown off and Kyle turned to Price, who had almost forgotten about his offer and said: “My room or yours, sir?”

He still found it slightly comical, the way the sergeant was so eager to close the door, locking it, when he entered his room. Because the last thing Price was expecting from the sergeant was the way he ended up blowing his back. 

It all started with the sergeant urging him to take off his clothes, sitting him down on the edge of the bed. The sergeant's hands were roaming his body like it was his possessions, and when his mouth entered the equation, Price didn't really mind. 

He felt bad when he felt himself slide down Kyle’s throat, feeling mean for the excuse of a handjob the man had received in comparison. But then Kyle's mouth moved lower, licking his heavy balls like it was a delicatessen, and it was when he felt the sergeant's tongue probe at his ring of muscle that had him throwing his head back. 

The sergeant had him in the most committed position he had ever found himself in; both metaphorically and literally. Because with him laying on his back, with his legs clutched to his chest, his sergeant tongue deep into his ass and his hand fisting his length, he has never had more gratitude to the lock of the door. 

Price can feel himself clench, his orgasm surprising even himself, wanting to hold the sergeant's head to push him impossibly closer to his body. But before he can, Kyle pulls back, licking his lips and orders the captain. “Turn around, sir.”

Never did he think he would see the hungry and lustful expression on his sergeant's face, intimidating and promising enough to make him roll over easily. The sergeant behind him tugs his own length, slapping it between his captain's hairy cheeks making himself groan. 

He uses his hand resting on his captain's cheek to spread him, giving him free access to his spit-covered hole before letting his tip catch on it. Not pushing yet, but he bends forward, coming to rest his head on the captain's shoulder. “C’mon, Cap’tain, eyes on the objective, yeah?”

Price turns his head to look at him, confused with what the sergeant means, but it's the smile on his face when his tip finally enters and makes Price’s mouth open at the intrusion that he understands that the sergeant only wanted to see his reaction. 

Kyle chuckles behind him. “What’s there to lose, right?” He says, before kissing his captain on his lips, moaning into each other's mouth when Kyle slowly pushes forward. The both of them feeling more coy because of the intimate kiss than for what is happening below waist level. 

The sergeant only waits until Price has gotten used to his girth before he starts to snap his hips, pushing in and out with ease and picking up the pace. His hands find the waist of his captain, using it as leverage to stand kneeling behind the captain. 

Price's body is flat against the mattress, his dick chafing against the sheets, but with the way Kyle holds his waist, pulling him back to meet every snap of his hips, the only thing that he can do is moan the younger man's name. 

Although he is aware of Kyle’s stamina, it still surprises him when the man doesn't seem to be able to tire himself out. The speed, depth and constant stimuli to Price’s prostate have him babbling nonsense, having come undone more than once at this point, his dick not even able to get hard anymore and spilling out onto the puddle of cum between his flaccid dick and the mattress. 

He can feel the bruises forming under his sergeant's fingertips, but he can only grab the pillows, face buried into the mattress as he moans loudly and shamelessly at his sergeant’s mistreatment. It's after he comes after who knows how many times, that he hears the sergeant grunt, his thrust becoming sloppy and irregular, and after what feels like hours he feels him spill deep inside of him. 

He can barely keep his eyes open enough time to see the sergeant pull out, laying next to him; only for him to slap the captain’s ass hard, making him hiss and saying: “That's a good boy, Cap’tain.”

And because Price is a good captain, and he perfectly knows how important it is to keep his soldiers happy and with the morale high, he knows too that he would definitely make the same offer to the sergeant in the future.

[artytaeh]

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can i disagree with some of this fandom's perception of tom riddle? surely he won't be a sweetheart like lorenzo, but...

┊ i also don't think that he'd be so intentionally rude, so cold towards his significant other. i honestly think that if tom ever becomes infatuated with someone, he would take pride into getting this someone to belong to him. willingly! 🌷

౨ৎ i guess i'll never know the reason why you ♡ ͡

love me like you do; that's the wonder of you . . .

... tom riddle is a smart man, you see. love, romantic feelings, to act like a couple and all of those things— these might be the most confused that tom riddle will ever be, because otherwise, he's an extremely competent, capable young man.

tom riddle does get confused, a little lost on what to do; he'd torture himself by discreetly watching couples at hogwarts interacting, maybe make some research (= read novels. romantic novels. it was a discovery of a new medieval torture for tom, seriously, to waste his precious time reading some sappy crap like that.) to better understand how to handle you.

how to deal with you.

how to cherish you, so that you don't ever entertain the idea of leaving him. you see, tom is a practical man— he'd rather not commit mistakes, because to fail, means to spend extra time fixing his error and doing the same thing twice, so that this time, it's done correctly.

applying this ideology to you, it means: that 1) tom riddle prefers to always keep your heart happy, so that you don't have doubts about him; so that 2) he won't have to take twice the effort to conquer the city of your heart again.

some think that tom wouldn't like petnames. to be fair, tom would frown at many of those, at first— thinking that they were cringe, disgusting or a psychological way to acquire diabetes. however, when tom gets used to this stir on his heart, those loud heart beatings that cloud his rational thoughts...

... it's excused to say that tom's preferred petname to call you by, is 'my love'.

tom reasons that's because it isn't a lie at all. well, you're certainly his— and because of you, because of your existence, of this enchanting aura of yours; that's how tom riddle discovered love. there are few things that tom is attached to. even fewer that he shows to care about, to have affectionate feelings for; one of them is the basilisk. others are his favorite books, all of them first editions that were troublesome, but endlessly worth it, to get. nevertheless, at the peak of the pyramid, there's you.

you. oh, how your name sounds so angelic, so right, so perfect on his lips. sometimes, tom doesn't call you by any petnames, so that he can mouth each syllable of your name, tasting the acquaintance of the name of his darling on his lips.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

he might call you by other petnames, depending on the occasions:

darling; which, in his opinion, is fairly one of the best petnames to be shared between a couple. because you, reader, are endearing to his eyes— a darling, really, whose presence immediately softens (ever so slightly, because tom riddle still is tom riddle himself, and that mask of stoicism of his won't be broken without putting up a fight.) those previously icy, cold eyes of his.

dearest; if tom is trying to reason with you. unlike what many think, tom would take a deep breath, put on that handsome smile of his, and use a gentle tone to convince some words inside that pretty little head of yours. 'dearest', he calls for you— so gentle, so full of affection; as if reminding you that you are the object of all of his affections and desires. you, his dearest, the one he adores the most. the reminder of such a fact easily melts you in less than a few seconds, which tom sees as too perfect of an opportunity to lose to convince you much faster.

doll; if you look rather ravishing to his eyes, whenever you dress up even prettier than other school days, and wear such pretty clothes and many accessories to further optimize your beauty. beautiful, perfect, flawless; like a doll. a carefully made doll. a doll, that sits there quiet and all pretty, obedient, doing as she's told.

( i must warn you, though, that tom won't entertain silly nicknames from you. tom riddle will ignore you, march forward without sparing a glance at you, not even acknowledging your presence should you insist on the matter. tom won't answer you, should you refer to him by such hideous petnames. you could be about to fall from a mountain, and yet tom won't help you until you address him properly. baby? he's not a child, for salazar's sake! pookie bear? now that might make tom riddle himself throw you off from the mountain's edge— call him such a monstrosity like that, and tom will lose every drop of faith on you. you're a lost cause. )

if he had to choose; yes, tom would prefer if you were obedient. contrary to popular belief, tom riddle is quite fascinated with sweet personas. to have a sweet significant other, who's all smiles and considerate words— it's so, so much easier for tom.

between a brat that trashes around for his attention, and a sweet girl who gently tries to indulge (purely out of concern, wanting him to share his problems with her!)— tom would rather choose the latter.

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quite the darling you are. to boldly take tom's hands between your own, with that frown of yours. no, you're not being whiny; yet tom can see that there's consideration, there's time spent on that little brain of yours, that tries to find the right words to speak with him.

then, when you voice your concerns— that tom spends some time alone from time to time, seemingly hiding something from you, as if to shoulder all of those burdens all by himself...

tom takes a deep breath, swallowing his temper. trying to keep his composure, because tom hates having to justify his actions. with a smile, tom puts on a facade, with a too much convincing tone: "oh, dearest, no. i'm flattered that you noticed that i haven't been having the best days; however, your presence makes everything better. in fact, being with you now, makes all of my problems seem insignificant in comparison."

should his sweet words not be enough to keep your nose out of his business, then tom takes a step further. holding your hands, tom squeezes them between his fingers, gently at first, tightly when you're too stubborn: "my problems are mine to solve, my love. i would never put such a heavy burden on you; your smile is too precious for me to ruin."

sweet, sweet words; some that tom mentally grimaces at, but knows that are necessary and effective with you. talking as if he's doing you a favor on keeping you away from his PERSONAL thoughts and goals.

and that's how tom pushes you way. gently, smoothly— so that you'd have to rethink this moment over and over, for you to understand that once again, tom riddle has tricked you; tricked you into doing what he wants. because without a fight, without you daring to bother him further... tom riddle made you go back to your own business, and leave his alone.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

however, when tom is in a better mood and less stressed with his own goals, he'd find it funny, entertaining even, if his darling tried to be bossy. to pout, to want some sort of control. it's hilarious for him.

so, he indulges you. well, sort of— tom tricks you into thinking that he gave in to your commands. to your whims. in a sneaky way, tom makes you think that you're in control!

the one who's in charge is you. yes, darling, of course. he pats your head, gives you that charming smile of his. with such a serene expression, tom briefly raises his eyebrows, mocking you inside that devious mind of his, as he says: you are absolutely right, dearest.

tom riddle doesn't really mind that you aren't consciously aware that the one in charge is him. that's fine; no, seriously, go and brag about it!

because ultimately, tom knows that what he says, goes. that with some sweet words of his, a little touch here and there, that you'll soon see the reason and comply to whatever tom wishes you to say, to do, to behave.

he does is so smoothly, that even for the outsiders, well... it'd be hard to realize that all that tom riddle is doing to you, is nothing but manipulation. and you're oh so easy to manipulate— it was a challenge at first. now, it's more of a chore; tom barely blinks through it. he knows you so well.

however, so that you whining and getting used to think that you're having things done your way, tom throws some praises and compliments here and there.

touching you chin, gently brushing his thumb on your lower lip; tom's gaze intentionally softens, as he praises: 'you're just too good to be true, my love.', whenever you act accordingly. when you do as he says.

brushing a strand of yours away from your face, so that he can further admire the physical features of his beloved: 'i sincerely can't take my eyes of you, darling, when you are so good for me like this. pardon the way that i stare— you're too beautiful.'

and with even more sincerity, tom riddle isn't sure where his manipulation ends and his genuine care for you starts; tom isn't sure, whether his words are now a muscle memory of his, or if he truly means them.

but he never allows himself to discover the roots of this thought. to actually find out if he truly is such an emotionally shallow person, or if his weakness for his darling is deeper than he realizes. no— this is one of the few matters, in which tom would rather remain ignorant about.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

because tom is such a gentleman with you...

opening doors for you. walking two, three steps ahead of you as soon as the entrance is upon sight, tom will open the door for you; his arm keeps it open for you to enter or leave the room first, and so those grayish-green eyes of his watch you, as you pass by. then, tom will enter just behind you, following your lead, quickening his steps to go back to his rightful place by your side. he lies to himself, saying that he only does such a small gesture to effortlessly keep you by his side. tom would be telling the truth, if he doesn't interrupt the thought that he enjoys to escort you— because, deep down, tom genuinely appreciates your company. every step, every minute you spend together. 'here, love. please, continue; what did you tell your housemate, then?'

tom riddle refuses to let you carry heavy books. so, as if it was muscle memory and so smoothly that you can't do anything about it, tom will carry your books along with his, as soon as you leave the classroom. it's not that he finds you useless, incapable; rather, tom riddle perceives you as a... preciously delicate, fragile little thing. most of the times, tom does it so nonchalantly that you don't even notice; you're too distracted by your conversation, to notice how tom carries your stuff, busying his arms. however, should you notice or worry that you're being a burden to tom in any way; tom shakes his head at you, waving off this silly insecurity of yours: 'i know you can carry them, beloved. however, allow me to do it for you. i am your boyfriend, am i not?'

offering his hand for you to take, whenever there's a higher step to be climbed up, or tricky stairs on your way. tom will do it too, to give you some kind of support, should you jump off of a particular high edge. whenever you wear high heels, tom would be specially careful with you— he offers his arm or hand for you to take, walking in a much slower pace than usual, so that you won't overexert your feet. we can't have his darling getting hurt, now can we? no bruises, no pain, no redness on your skin undesired by him, nothing to interrupt the lovely time you're spending together. 'take my hand, my love; it's quite high for you. that's it, darling, good girl.'

whenever you're about to sit, tom grabs the back of your chair, pushing the seat backwards for you to take, then helps you settle closer to the table. only then, will tom take his own seat in front of you. it's something that becomes so, so common between both of you, that sometimes you find yourself taking a few more seconds to sit down, whenever you hang out with your friends; unconsciously, you'd wait for tom to gently guide you to your seat. oh, you're spoiled.

leaning down to get the material you accidentally knocked out; if he's not quick enough to notice, then tom will keep his hand on the edge of the table, so that there's no chance for you to hit your head. 'quite the klutz, aren't you, darling?' — with a lighthearted tone, so that he doesn't come by as mean, tom couldn't help but to tease you just this time, — 'next time, let me get it for you, dearest. now, careful with your head.'

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

... and because he's always so soft-spoken with you, well, how could you listen to your friends, in case they notice that maybe tom riddle isn't as a good guy as he lets on? that perhaps, he is a little controlling. that maybe, he's too overprotective of you.

→ and of course, being the fool you are, you stroll to the lion's cage (or should we call it snake?) and deliver all of this information on a silver platter for him.

SAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS LAP, tom settles your thighs to rest on top of his, while a hand is respectfully kept there; caressing the smooth skin, rubbing circles on the bare skin of your thigh, just inches underneath the hem of your skirt.

tom riddle keeps up a serene expression, sometimes humming in acknowledgement, to show you that he's listening to this ramble of yours. if it's a topic that seems to have bothered or upsets you, then tom will keep another hand on your lower back; he soothes you with small movements of his fingers.

oh, how funny. so this ravenclaw friend of yours, told you that it isn't normal for tom, your boyfriend, to comment whether you roll up your skirt during summer? that such a thing is being controlling? now that's something tom will have to deal with. perhaps, he'll only have to frame this irritating ravenclaw girl; have you ever thought that maybe, she's interested in tom? that must be why the ravenclaw is filling your pretty little brain with such absurd exaggerations of his doings. how lucky you are, to have an attentive boyfriend that easily notices when a friend of yours has bad intentions.

( for obvious reasons, tom despises amortentia. he finds it disgusting, but more than that, tom riddle perceives amortentia has a rather pathetic tool to get someone's affection. tom will never use it on you— he doesn't need to! however, he will get his hands on one, to use it on that nosy, insufferable ravenclaw friend of yours. only to prove his point. so that this nosy girl acts disgustingly flirty around tom, so that you'll come running back into his arms, crying about such an awful friend and that once again, tom was right. you apologize to him, for doubting his assumptions. you end this friendship and cut ties with the ravenclaw girl. and tom, well, tom riddle has once again rid both of you from troublesome outsiders. )

ah, now this is entertaining! so these friends of yours, housemates, have noticed that tom has been keeping an eye on you. now, dearest, that's rather silly, don't you think? so what if you seem to find the same familiar faces in the same space as you? do you really believe your friends' theories? that he sends his followers ''friends'' to follow you around the school? darling, hogwarts is quite enormous and spacious, yet all of you study together in the same castle. it's inevitable, to see familiar faces, here and there.

( however, tom will blame his followers. how difficult can it be, to follow, to stalk a girl like you? and to go unnoticed as they do that? sincerely, tom stares at them with such disgust, such disappointment, that his followers tremble under his gaze— the future dark lord even mentions the idea of getting rid of them. of throwing them away. after all, why would he need such useless, such incompetent boys like them, if they can't follow simple orders correctly? it's excused to say, that you'd never suspect being stalked again. 1) because tom reassured you that such a thought is rather silly; and 2), because these followers of tom riddle do a much better job. out of fear. )

oh, darling, what silly friends you have! sincerely, it seems like you only attract observant delusional friends, or attentive paranoid companies!

in the end, it doesn't matter if your friends tried to alert you about tom's toxic concerning flaws traits. because in the end, at night, he will have you nuzzling on his lap, holding you so tenderly; all of these warnings disappear into thin air, when tom makes you laugh at such accurate ridiculous accusations.

in conclusion: no, tom riddle would never be rude or snap at you; not if he can help it, not if he can keep his temper in check. he believes that the best way to keep you so effortlessly devoted and infatuated, to keep you willingly by his side, is to treat you with care (even if sometimes he has to manipulate his way into it). how lucky you are, to have such a obsessive caring boyfriend!

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i'm endlessly faithful to theodore nott. however. the first to kick the entrance door to my heart was tom riddle. and what a man (i can't fix him. i would let him ruin my life him tho!), ladies and gentlemen.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[nsharks]

weyy idk if ur taking reqs rn but if u are… ik youve already wrote this prompt like twice but can we have more argument angst w ghost 😭😭

simon struggles with anger (you struggle to help him) —tags: brief gore mention, cursing, angst, argument, established "situationship" —part two here

His fingers find the crest of your waist in the dark, holding you against the side of him as shallow breaths pound in his chest. Your lips are puffy and red. You wipe your hand against your used mouth and curl up into the warmth radiated from the colossal form beside you.

"Fuckin' hell," he murmurs, a low rasp. "I swear... Where'd a pretty thing like you learn all that, huh?"

But, with a flush to your cheeks, you barely have time to part your lips before he grumbles into your hair:

"Don't answer that."

It's a quiet order. One that rumbles low under his heavy breathing. Because Simon is full of orders. Demands. In bed, it thrills you, incites a thrum in your veins, an urge to follow and please him. He will take, and demand— until your legs are sore and your skin is chafed. But sometimes this persona bleeds into life outside of his bed. You try to be patient. You try to understand how difficult it must be to adjust to being just a person, here with you, and not a SAS lieutenant.

Especially for him.

But where Simon is rough and demanding, he is also quiet and thoughtful.

He moves his hand to the underbelly of your jaw. Softly now, he mutters, "Need water?"

"Yes, please," you answer, hoarseness in your voice.

And soon the warmth beside you ghosts out of his bedroom to fulfill your request, leaving you with a few moments to feel the tiredness in your limbs. He'd kept you up longer than you anticipated. He usually did.

But a sharp ding from your phone widens your eyes.

A message.

Your phone— casually placed on his desk in the corner of his room.

You hadn't meant to leave it there, not when his desk was particularly off-limits to you. Another order of his: don't touch my stuff. Even though Simon wanted you over every night, he didn't want you meddling in the crevices of his privacy. You did your best to respect that, but in the heat of removing your clothes, the phone in your pocket had ended up on the nearest surface.

You tug on just your shirt. Bare feet against cold floor. But when you reach for your phone, you carelessly brush a hand against the notebook beside it, nudging it off the desk.

It sits on the floor with the spine propped up, pages parted.

It's terrible, the curiosity that itches from the sight.

You reach for it with your tongue poking your cheek. You shouldn't look. A whisper of warning echoes in your mind. His privacy, his trust— you valued those things. But perhaps it's the fact that Simon is still such an enigma to you, or perhaps the fact that you immediately notice penned sketches on the paper, but you pick it up and can't stop yourself from taking a peak at the opened page.

The inked images stun you.

Only for a second can you bear them.

A brief second filled with... horrid things. Gruesome things. Things you knew, deep down, he'd seen, but you never wanted to entertain the detailed reality of. The sight spurs something in your stomach: nausea, maybe. An unease that twists and churns and urges you to clamp the notebook shut with a gasp.

You shouldn't have looked.

And you're about to set it back down—

But a presence makes itself known behind you.

"What are you doin'?"

His voice is quietly tense. Enough to snap you out of the images brandished in your mind. If the moonlit room is a river, then his words are a stone— splintering the surface.

"Oh, I—" you stutter, looking at the notebook in your hand. "I was just—"

But you can't finish. No— there's a hand ripping it from you.

"Just what?"

In the dark, you turn to face him. He sets down the glass of water on his desk; flicks on the small lamp. The light reveals to you the pits of inky black in his eyes, notebook gripped tightly in his hand.

"I was just trying to grab my phone, Simon," you explain in a murmur.

"Right," a click of his tongue. Animosity presses against his teeth. You see it, you feel it. And you wish you could clamp your eyes shut and return to the moment, not so long ago, when he'd been holding you with warmth.

He holds the notebook up. "Does this... look like your phone?"

"No, it just fell—"

"Liar," he interjects, cold and low. "You were going through my stuff."

"I wasn't," you insist, shaking your head. "I mean... I may have taken a peek but only because it opened—"

"You..." a sharp inhale. "Took a peek, huh?"

"I'm sorry."

"How many times do I have to—" he closes his eyes for a moment, but they reopen with a hollow flame. "You never fuckin' listen, I swear. Do you have a thick skull?”

And maybe it's the way he is staring at you, or the lick of venom in his insult, but you mumble: "Well, maybe you shouldn't have me stay here if you can't handle people touching any of your things."

"No," he grits. "Maybe you need to be more obedient."

He holds your stare.

A presence that nearly smothers you.

But you squint your eyes through the tension. "Obedient? Really? I mean— do you hear yourself? I am human and I accidentally dropped your book—"

"Don't," he breathes through his nose, a flare under the mask. "Don't give me that. Goin' thought my shit when I told you not to. Now you wanna stand here with bloody excuses. You are so..."

"So what?" you snap softly. A hand grips the end of your shirt to properly cover yourself because right now, you're not sure if you want those eyes looking at you.

But he doesn't finish, just pinches the bridge of his nose and stares off at the wall behind you. Muscles beneath the fabric of his mask twitch and ripple and shudder with a curl of rage.

"I told you," he repeats, more to himself than to you. "I told you so many goddamn times. Fuckin' hell, you make me... I want to just— Jesus Christ. Why can't you listen to something so simple?"

"You know, Simon," you retort under your breath. "You have so much to say when you're pissed, don't you?" You huff out a breath. "Somehow you have no problem finding the right words to tell me I've done something wrong. But when it comes time to tell me you care, that's so hard, right? When was the last time you even said it? You can't find the words for those feelings?"

"Shut it," he orders— no, barks. The curl of anger flickers and seethes and looks back at you, staring you down as if you are an enemy who has gotten in his way. His free hand clenches. You regret everything you've said. "Shut up, I swear to God. You went through my shit. You have no fuckin' right to talk about how I feel."

And then he is pacing around, a short trajectory of thunderous footsteps. His chest heaves. Ragged breaths claw up his throat until his voice raises to a level you haven't heard before:

"You want me to talk about how I fuckin’ feel? I feel nothing."

The snarl of his words is loud but easily drowned out by the sound of the notebook hitting the wall. It's a sudden sound that jolts you.

And maybe, maybe now you see it— how much of a lie he has shouted. I feel nothing. But there is so much feeling, so much unadulterated anger and pain thrown against the wall that it causes tears to quiver at the rims of your eyes. And your stomach churns, not with nausea this time but with something else, a feeling that grips your shoulders and tucks you a few steps further away from him.

Because at this moment Simons scares you.

And with all his orders, all his demands, he has never truly scared you before.

And if the fear wasn't there, you might've realized why he felt this way. You might've realized the images in his notebook were pieces of himself he was so terrified for you to see, and it angered him more than anything that, despite his efforts, he couldn't hide them from you forever.

He only snaps out of it when he sees you.

Moments pass, and then Simon is looking back at you with wild eyes. Eyes that flicker over you— your hunched body, your hands pressed against the wall behind you because you've backed up so far, the tears in your eyes.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," he mutters, quieter now. He drags a hand over his eyes. "Babe, I—"

But when he tries to take a step closer, you flinch further.

"Please," you whisper. A few tears escape. "I want to... I want to go home."

I want to get away from you.

"It's late," he argues weakly, still struggling to control his breath. His anger fizzles rapidly, leaving behind a shell of regret and pain and worry as he watches you reach for your pants.

You're tugging them up your legs with fingers that fumble.

"Y/N," Simon swallows, pressing his hands over his veiled forehead. "Don't. I will— Fuck, I'll go."

And you don't have time to protest. With hands that tremble, Simon begins pacing around the room again, this time not in anger. No— something that has him mumbling quietly under his breath over and over: "I'll go, I'll go."

He grabs his keys and keeps his eyes on the floor. "You stay here, yeah? Don't... don't go out so late."

A bob of his throat.

This order arrives in a voice that sounds frail and hollow.

"Okay," you whisper, nodding.

And he leaves. Tugging on his coat and within seconds, you hear the sound of his front door shut. Simon, the man who was just blistered with anger over his privacy, leaves you here to sleep in his own home without him. And you're too shaken, too exhausted, to wonder where he could possibly go for the rest of the night.

------

Simon was always saying he would quit smoking.

Bad for my lungs, pet, I know it. He would mumble against your lips in a kiss that tasted sour. It didn't bother you, but you noticed how the taste turned thicker during those days he'd shut himself away in his room.

Got to help me, pet. He had said one time into your neck, tucking a pack in your hand. Hide 'em from me, yeah?

(The only request for help he's ever uttered.)

But it didn't really matter where you hid them—

—Simon could always buy more.

And when he returns the next morning, the smell is pungent.

You're already awake. A small bag stuffed with your things, but you are quick to hide it when you hear the front door creak open.

A shuffling of boots.

While his footsteps had been thunderous before, a solemn calm now replaces the storm.

Wordlessly, he searches for you. He finds you frozen in place near the bathroom where you'd just been collecting your things— a toothbrush, a tube of makeup. But your bag is placed on the counter where he can't see.

"Hey," he offers a soft, hoarse greeting. "Didn't expect you to be here."

And then he holds up a bagged pastry and a to-go canister of tea. "Got you breakfast, jus' in case."

It shouldn't be so strange. The sight. His large hands gripping food from some nearby cafe. His eyes: red, worn. He looks like he didn't sleep. The air outside is brittle and already wintery: had he just walked around all night in the cold? And even now, with the hollow pit in your stomach left from your crying, a touch of concern finds you when you notice how pale his exposed skin is. A slight pink creeping from under the mask.

"I don't want a pastry and tea."

Your voice. Is it—?

Defeated.

Because your care and concern can only go so far with a man who slips so easily into anger, but with even greater ease, isolates himself from care.

“Right,” he clears his throat. “I’ll jus’ leave it in the kitchen, then. You could have it later.”

Avoidance.

Is he really just going to pretend—?

“You scared me last night.”

The admission slips out in a whisper. But it's enough. It's all he needs to hear for his eyes to dig shut, a visible flinch rippling through his broad shoulders. His avoidance cracks.

A gruff, "I know."

"You were so angry, Simon. I—"

Dark eyes flutter back open. Gently now, "I would never hurt you."

"But you did. You do." A swallow that tastes salty. "You shut me out. I mean— your notebook. It was... You—"

"Think I'm fucked then, huh?"

Hollow words. The shell of a man speaking to you, with only a little boy inside. And you flutter your eyes because the backs of your lids remember the gore you'd seen. But your stomach has already swallowed and digested the sight, whittled it down to empathy.

"No, I don't," you whisper with a firm shake of your head. "I just think you need help. You deserve it, Simon. And I—" Hushed like a secret that rattles with defeat: "I don't know if I can give you that help."

There's just not much else to say.

The look he gives, pitiful and strained, tugs at your reserve. You have to walk away— you turn around to grab your bag. He sees it now. A sharp inhale sounds from his chest as you begin your journey to the front door with your belongings.

He follows. Sets the food on the table.

You don't really know what you want or what you need, but at this moment all you can think of is space.

"Don't," a quiet, rough plea.

A ghost hovers behind you as your hand wraps around the doorknob. A phantom cloaked in guilt and perhaps, the realization that what he'd expected you to do for so long, was finally coming to fruition.

"It's just space," you tell him in a murmur. "Simon, I just need space."

"Space from me?"

"From this."

"M' sorry," he breathes. "Please... I— it won't happen again. Fuck, I swear it. I'm so..."

And he struggles with the words because, fucking hell, you were right. Words of care, words of apology, always seem to evade him. But military jargon and sharp commands come with ease.

"I'm so sorry," Simon finally says, choppy. "I didn't want you seein' all that. But... bloody hell, I overreacted, didn't I?"

Salt lines your vision as he continues, urgently now, because your hand refuses to let up off the knob.

"Jesus Christ. I didn't mean to. You can't just— Pet, please. I'm sorry, alright? So fuckin' sorry, I mean it."

But his apologies don't do much to soothe the defeat in your chest. You can't look at him so you open the door instead.

A touch to your shoulder, perhaps firmer than he intends—

And you pause only because you think finally he might say what you were hoping he would. Something about care. Maybe even, a tinge of hope for— love.

(But no— he'd given you a clear warning from the beginning that he couldn't give that.)

So instead, he just shakes his head and drops his hand back to his side. The words die on his tongue, turned the same color of ash as his lashes, and he lets you leave.

[corvidae-00]

Love All Mine

A/N: ANOTHER ONE- This was requested! And I'm so excited to be writing it >:) I also got some friendly advice which I thank! i haven't written in a long time so my formats are kinda weird but I appreciate the Anon that reached out so here is some work on that!!!

THIS IS A SMUT- IF UR UNDER 18- DO NOT READ >:^

Joost x Virgin!Insecure!Goth!Plus sized! Reader :D

CW: Sexy time, insecurity while lovemaking, Joost being the man that he is and loving reader no matter what, Joost loves all body types- bro is not picky-, loves reader the most tho, Swearing, slight overstimulation- >:3

word count: 2,480

You and Joost have been together for longer than either one of you can remember. meeting during your teen years and kicking it off. He has watched you grow and develop and become the beautiful woman you are and you have done the same, Watching him grow his music career and become a person you have always found safety in. He had always protected you from the bullies who made you feel down about your weight and was always the person to lift you back up afterward and restore your self-esteem-

That being said- Joost and you have never had sex, you have made out, touched, and gotten so close but never continued. you never questioned that maybe he didn't love you- it seemed like his own worries or anxiety, but that would change.. Getting home you set your bag down and sigh the makeup you always articulately put on in the morning feeling heavy from your long shift at work and you are ready to just lay down with the love of your life, you kick the door shut with the bottom of your foot and set the keys on the counter only then noticing your Boyfriend still had not run up to greet you- which was weird for him and definitely out of character, maybe he was asleep?

"Joost?" you call out carefully if he is asleep and you don't want to wake him up or cause a disruption. kicking off your flats you walk deeper into your shared apartment, pictures of you and Joost hung up everywhere, conventions, concerts, dates- they all had fond memories. Getting closer to your room you quiet your footsteps knowing your boyfriend to snore no matter what position he is in but when you hear soft panting and grumbling. Blinking a few times you step closer unsure if you are hearing correctly "God, je bent zo mooi" a gruff Dutch accent breathes out and you can feel your face flush red realizing it is Joost. Touching himself. You peak into the room seeing your boyfriend's back as he sits on the edge of the bed with his head thrown back and hair messy and disheveled, eyes closed and mouth slightly hanging open. You can feel your eyes dilate and your mouth quickly watering- maybe this is wrong to watch-

Before you can turn around and act like you saw nothing Joost's eyes droopily open and quickly snap open upon seeing you- "schijten!" He yells surprised sitting up and you blink a few times his voice lower than you are used to "Babe- I- uh-" He sputters out "I wasn't expecting you home-" he explains watching you push into the room as Joost grabs the blanket to cover himself up trying to keep any ounce of dignity he may have left his face flushed red and sweat trailing down his brow. You both have a stare off and before you can think you mutter out "Do you want help..?" your mouth goes faster than your head can catch and understand what you just said clicking and you quickly blink "I mean- if you want" You mutter and before you can overthink it Joost nods eagerly "God I want you" he huffs out his grip on the blanket increasing. The goth look had always been a style Joost loved, especially on you- and he wasn't ever scared to think about you in that scene.

You step over cautiously watching Joost as he watches you like fresh meat. Reaching out Joost takes you by the wrist and pulls you towards him sitting up slightly to catch your lips in a heated kiss, quickly using his other hand to cup your cheek and groaning into your mouth. Feeling your whole body heat up you can't help but lean into it, enjoying the quick adrenaline seemingly causing both of you to work faster. Joost drops your wrist and gently grabs your waist pulling you onto his lap surprised when you break the kiss "Wait- I don't want to hurt you-" You mutter trying to stand up only to get tugged down again and forced to look at a genuine and vulnerable Joost "You couldn't hurt me, you are perfect.." He whispers moving your hair and leaning in to kiss you again "So...perfect" He says between kisses trailing down your jawline and neck stopping to suck and nibble at your soft skin "A goddess who graces my life every single day" He hums scooting back onto the bed and flipping you both over so he is on top- "Please let me worship you" He mutters his blue eyes blown wide and his face a bright red "Let me show you how much I love you" he begs kissing on your neck listening to your sweet gasps and murmurs tilting your head to the side to let him kiss on you more. "Please Joost" you hum your eyes closed in bliss "Please" You repeat your brain turning into mush as he trails his hands under your dark blouse and gently pulls it over your head kissing down your neck and peppering your collarbones in hickeys

"So beautiful" He mutters his accent getting thicker and thicker with every passing minute. he kisses down your cleavage and down your stomach his hands rubbing up and down your sides enjoying the soft flesh under them. getting lower until he is between your legs he works at your pants careful when removing them and allowing you to help him he kisses your thighs feverishly enjoying the closeness between you two "God I'm an idiot for not doing this sooner my Mooie meid" he growls getting closer to the area you want him most sending you into a whiny mess "God Joost please" You moan throwing your head back into your comfortable comforter "Please what?" Joost purrs hooking his fingers around your underwear and tugging slightly looking up at you from between your legs "Use your words pretty girl~" He practically growls "Please Joost- please eat me out please take my virginity-" You moan looking down at him in a dazed state "There we go~ Your voice is like heaven~" Joost sighs pulling your underwear down and off your ankles leaning in and pressing his lips to your core his mustache ticking you slightly but the feeling of him actually touching you could be enough to throw you over the edge.

"God!" You moan letting your head fall back onto the bed as Joost lets his tongue press flat against your folds dragging a slow line up and kissing the bud of nerves between your legs causing your legs to instinctively close only for Joost to hold them apart "No, No Princess, how can I take care of you? Keep them open for me, hmm?" He purrs massaging the soft flesh in his hands "God it feels so good" You huff out only for Joost to chuckle "Oh Yeah?" he leans down taking the bundle of nerves carefully into his mouth sucking and using his tongue to tease you further. Fighting to keep your legs open you reach down to thread your fingers through his hair and Joost could swear this is the closest to heaven he may ever come. "Holy shit you taste amazing~" Joost groans leaning farther down and presses his tongue against your entrance testing the waters his eyes shining when your eyes roll back into your head. bringing a hand up he uses a finger to gently take his tounges place teasing your entrance before gently pushing inside of you carefully watching your reactions, extra careful not to hurt you "Joost!" you moan out your eyes screwing shut "Oh, I know baby, I know" He purrs pushing a little bit further into you "Just tell me if it gets too much-" He mumbles leaning down and licking your clit kissing and teasing it while he slowly enters his finger into you

once his knuckles meet your heat he glances up at you, meeting your eyes which are watching him intensely, your mouth hung open in pleasure. "Please move-" You mutter watching Joost slowly pull his finger out and enter you again carefully pumping his finger into your heat not wanting to push you too much but eventually speeding up. "Feel good..?" Joost huffs out nibbling on your thigh closest to his face leaving a few more hickeys "Oh god please don't stop" You whimper one of your hands covering your mouth slightly, your makeup running but neither of you care. Joost pulls out and adds another finger slowly pushing inside you. You gasp and arch your back "O-OH-" You yelp and Joost kisses your stomach "I'll be slow, are you okay?" Joost looks over your face in worry and you nod "Please- continue- it feels so good-" You whimper and he nods eventually meeting a pace that he had with his single digit. you are a mess of moaning and whimpering "I'm so close Joost please" You whine out your hands tightly wrapped in his soft hair and Joost smirks connecting his mouth with your clit sucking and licking away at it increasing the speed with his fingers until you feel the knot in your stomach snap and you cum all over his mouth and fingers which causes Joost to let out a loud moan of his own carefully and quickly licking your cum off his lips, slowly pulling his fingers out and licking them clean. You whine at the empty feeling and Joost chuckles leaning up and kissing you softly

You moan the tase of yourself on your own lips and Joost pulls away slightly "Think you can take the real thing?" Joost purrs looking you in your beautiful eyes "Please, Please-" You murmur against his lips and Joost chuckles "You sure beautiful?" he near growls and you nod feverishly "Okay- ill be careful" He mutters kissing you again and reaching down to take hold of his cock in his hands, pumping it a few times before leaning forward and aligning the tip with your core "Just say stop if it gets too much? I don't want to hurt you.." Joost mutters looking down at you with gentle eyes and you nod "Please take me-" You mutter running your fingers over his chest, Joost nods pushing his tip into you slowly and you can't help but quickly cover your mouth to muffle your moans. Joost pulls your hand off your mouth and shakes his head "Let me hear you mooi" he moans pushing in some more almost drooling at the sounds that leave you "Oh my god Joost please" You whine arching your back and pressing your chest against his, quickly Joost reaches under you and unstraps your bra discarding it somewhere in the room and his eyes dilated on the nipple piercings looking back at him "When did you get these done?" he questions through hard panting looking at you and you sheepishly look away "Maybe a few months ago~" You purr and Joost growls under his breath "you sneaky Minx you~" He hmms pushing in further and bottoming out against you causing you both to let out loud moans, Joost hissing at how tight you are "tell me when to move baby" He moans

Joost leans down taking one of your pierced nipples into his mouth. You can't help but buck your hips causing you both to gasp and Joost to groan in pleasure making your nipples more sensitive you huff and puff trying to catch your breath from how overstimulated you are "Please move" You nod and Joost looks up at you from his attack on your breasts " you sure?" Joost looks over your face and the sheer determination behind your eyes is all he needs before he pulls his hips back and thrusts into you slowly and intently.

After a while of going slow you beg him to speed up the pleasure of his dick melting your brain "Oh my god Joost please-" You whimper the snap of his hips echoing off the walls the room filled with lewd sounds and neither of you could care even if you wanted too "You like that baby?" Joost moans out his hair in every direction and your hands latched onto his arms like it might be a life support. speeding up Joost hangs his head low giving more attention to your nipples. You wrap your legs around his waist wanting nothing more but to be even closer to him. "im- I'm gonna-" You whimper and cry out "Cum for me schat" Joost growls covering your breasts in hickeys. You close your eyes tightly feeling Joost speed up making sure you memorize every ridge of his cock "Taking me so well" He moans "Such a beautiful girl on my dick" he growls "How lucky of a man for me to have a woman as beautiful as you" He laughs. Still, it comes out more like an airy breath "Joost I'm cumming!" You moan throwing your head back and Joost closes his eyes letting out his own moans "Cum on this dick baby girl" He snaps and you can feel your second orgasm hitting you like a bus.

Joost pulls out and cums all over your stomach and pelvic bone letting out his own sounds of pleasure including a string of Dutch moans. "You were amazing baby" Joost pants out leaning forward and kissing you softly pulling away and kissing you again, covering your face in love "So perfect for me" He hmms standing up a bit wobbly on his feet, his orgasm knocking the wind of out of. "Stay here baby.." he mumbles and enters your shared bathroom bringing back a warm wash rag and the bag of your makeup removers and skin care products "Here let me help," Joost says softly cleaning his cum off your body and kissing your stomach every chance he gets "Have I told you how wonderful you are?" He mutters with hooded lids. You smile and nod "But I don't think I could ever get enough" You hum sitting up the best you can only to be gently laid back down by Joost "Nope! I'm taking care of my princess" He demands and you just smile letting him clean your face off and your skin. Once done Joost crawls into bed with you making sure you both are comfy and pulls you into his chest

"I love you sweetheart" He mumbles kissing your face and You can't help but wrap your arms around him wanting to be as close as possible letting Joost pull the blankets over the two of you. "I love you too Joost, I love you so much" You mutter hiding your face in his chest and letting Joost play with your hair and mutter praises and sweet things in your ear rubbing your back with his free hand

Dutch translation: God, You are so beautiful-God, je bent zo mooi

Beautiful- Mooi Sweetheart- Schat Beautiful girl-Mooie meid

A/N: THANK YOU FOR READING >:3 First time writing smut in a HOT MINUTE HOLY CRAP- Thank you for ALL THE LOVE?!?!?! Keep the requests coming >:))) I love you all!!!

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Oliver Quick X Reader: The birthday boy

Warnings: smut, dom reader, sub Oliver, penetration (p in v), fingering, oral (m receiving), cream pie, mirror sex, dirty talk, cowgirl, choking.

Word Count: 2,4K

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

Oliver turned around at the sound of your voice. He’d been so focused on how everything had gone to shit that he hadn’t really had the time to enjoy the party. His party. You looked pretty, all dressed up in what Oliver could only imagine was supposed to be some sort of fae costume.  

You passed him the bottle you were holding. He grabbed it from you and took a swing. 

“I guess I'm not.”

“Sorry what?”

It was hard to hear each other through the blaring music. You leaned closer to Oliver so that you could listen better. He tilted his head up so his lips were near your ear.

“You’re right. I'm not having fun.”

You gave him an exaggerated pout before leaning back down to whisper in his ear.

“Want me to change that?”

Oliver looked at you watching the sultry look that made its way into your eyes as you smirked.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Come with me.”

You grabbed Oliver's hands, dragging him through the crowd of people. From time to time someone would try to talk to you but you’d just wave them off. Oliver enjoyed it. He liked feeling like he was more important than those other people. And he was. To you at least. 

The entire house seemed to be filled to the brim with people yet somehow the moment you got to the hall that led to your room there wasn’t anyone around. You could sense the questions swimming around Oliver's head.

“It's basic etiquette.”

“What is?” 

“Not going near peoples rooms. Rooms are private. Not to be used or seen by anyone other than the owner.”

“I’ve been in the rooms.”

“Well yeah. Cause you’re special.”

Your words sent shivers down Oliver's arms. What had he gotten himself into? Ever since he’d arrived at Saltburn you’d been nothing but kind to him. You understood each other in a way that the others didn't. After all, both of you were only temporary guests here. You were Venetias friend and even though this was the second summer you’d spent at Saltburn you still felt out of place. Oliver's arrival had been a surprise. And a pleasant one at that.

You’d found him wandering the grounds one day and from that moment on the two of you had become close. Even though Oliver had never told you the truth he knew you’d understand. You were like him after all. And perhaps that's why he felt comfortable walking into your room and sitting on your bed. Or maybe it was the silent promise that had filled the air as soon as you’d called out his name downstairs. 

“I have a gift for you.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,wanna see?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, close your eyes.”

Oliver did as you asked, shutting his eyes and relaxing into your bed. His fingers moved over the silk sheets. He could hear you moving around the room due to the clack of your heels on the floor. Oliver wanted to see what you were up to but he also wanted to be a good boy for you. He knew how much you enjoyed bossing people around. He was quite fond of it too so he decided to force his curiosity out of his brain and channel as much patience as he could.

You observed Oliver as you got ready, a smile spreading across your face as you noticed his head following you around the room. You turned around to look at yourself in the vanity mirror. Once you’d made sure everything was the way you wanted you slipped your heels off and made your way to Oliver. Oliver felt your well manicured hands on his shoulder causing him to instinctively grab onto your waist. You laughed at the action, manoeuvring yourself so that you were sitting comfortably in Oliver's lap. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your neck but his eyes remained shut. You caressed his hair, placing a kiss to his forehead.

“You’ve been a good boy haven’t you?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Didn’t give any peaks right?”

“No.”

“Well then I think good boys deserve rewards don't they?”

Oliver nodded, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips. 

“Go on, Ollie, open your eyes.”

Oliver opened his eyes slowly, a shuddered breath leaving his lips once his gaze caught onto your frame. His hands made their way over the lacy fabric you had on, eyes skimming over the parts of skin that were barely covered. 

“Gosh.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. Thank you.”

“Oh this isn't your gift Ollie. This was just something I got for myself.”

“So what did you get me?”

‘You, my darling boy, get to rip this off me and fuck me until your name is the only thing i still remember how to say.”

Oliver stared at you with his blue puppy eyes. You would never get tired of the way he looked at you. Such devotion. Such desperation. Such lust. You smirked at the brunette.

“You up for it baby?”

“Do you have to ask?”

In a matter of seconds Oliver had managed to drag you off his lap and flipped you around so that you were positioned beneath him. You wrapped your legs around his waist eagerly. Oliver knew you’d told him he was allowed to go fast and as much as his dick begged for him to just plunge into you he had another plan. He took his time kissing your body all over. He loved the whines you’d let out whenever his tongue lapped over your skin. You wanted to tell him to hurry up but it was his birthday so you decided to let him go at his own pace. And boy was it worth the wait.

Oliver's hands found their way to the top of your lingerie, fingers moving slowly against your nipples before deciding to free your breasts. As soon as your tits were free Oliver’s mouth latched onto them. Your hands curled into his hair as he sucked your tits, a moan of satisfaction leaving your lips. Any other time you would have been worried about being too loud but given how loud the music downstairs you had nothing to worry about. Oliver continued his path down your body. Each new patch of skin that was revealed was lavished by his warm tongue before he allowed himself to remove more of your clothing. He eventually got to the part you’d been needing the most attention. His fingers grazed against your hip bone as he tugged the final piece off your body.

“Ass up.”

You did as Oliver asked, lifting your hips off the bed so that he could slip the lace off your body entirely. Oliver hissed as he felt your pussy brush against his dick. You gave him a cheeky smile. He smirked at you and leaned down to place a kiss on your lips. Your mouth parted into a moan when you felt him plunge a digit into your cunt. It slipped in with ease. You’d been thinking about this since you stepped out of the shower so it was safe to say that you were soaked. Oliver gave an encouraging moan as he placed another finger inside. He curled his fingers and you moaned.

“Such pretty noises.”

“Ollie…ugh shit.”

You threw your head back, your body rising off the bed as Oliver began moving his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. You reached out for him, your hands moving towards his neck. He lifted his chin slightly, his eyes closing as he felt your fingers wrap around his throat. You gave him a squeeze causing a broken groan to leave his lips. 

“Come on baby. Make me cum.”

Oliver's blue orbs found yours a feral look passing over them before he grabbed onto your leg and pushed it up. The new position allowed him to hit your g-spot perfectly. Your hands tightened around his neck as your eyes rolled back into your head, his name leaving your lips in a loud moan. You heard him moan, his hips launching forward as his fingers kept moving inside you. Even in your euphoric state you could tell Oliver had just cum in his pants and the thought alone made you feel even more desperate to have him inside you. Oliver removed his fingers from your pussy making you let out a whimper. He placed his fingers into his mouth and sucked. You watched him palm himself with one hand as he cleaned your juices off the other one. 

“Such a good boy for me.”

You sat up in bed, your hands making their way to Oliver's hips. He removed his hand from his dick so that you could see his cum stained pants.

“You made a mess didn’t you?”

Oliver nodded, removing his fingers from his mouth with a pop.

“Want me to help you clean it up?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes please.”

“That's better.”

You rose to your feet causing Oliver to take a step back. You glanced around the room, your eyes falling on the chair near your vanity.

“How about a change of scenery?”

Oliver looked at where you had gestured to with your head, a small grin forming on his face as he understood what you were suggesting. 

“Whatever you want, pretty.”

“Go sit for me. Legs spread and arms behind your back.”

Oliver did as he was told. He walked over to the chair and sat down, making sure it was angled in a way so that you could stay between his legs comfortably and so that he had a view of the mirror before him. Once you saw Oliver had settled in the chair the way you’d told him to you made your way to him. You walked slowly, making sure he could see every inch of your body as you did. Oliver's hands figited behind him and as much as he wished he could just tug you over to him he knew the rules. And he would follow them. Finally you got to Oliver, dropping to your knees before him. You reached for his pants, unbuttoning them as you stared into Oliver's eyes. He let out a breath as your hands found their way into his pants tugging his dick free. He was only semi-hard but you’d fix that in a moment. 

“You know the rules baby. No looking.”

Oliver gave you a pout.

“It’s my birthday.”

“Rules are rules.”

He let off a huff before moving his face to the side.

“That's a good boy.”

Oliver watched as his reflections mouth fell open with a moan. HIs brows furrowed as you continued to place kisses and licks on his dick. It was only when you wrapped your lips around him that he realised he could see your reflection. You placed your other mirror directly in front of your vanity which allowed him to watch you without actually looking at you.

“Oh you cheeky thing.”

You glanced at the mirror on the other side of the room blowing Oliver a kiss before moving your attention back to his dick. After a bit of sucking as carresing you managed to get Oliver hard again. You rose to your feet, your fingers going to Oliver's chin. He turned to face you. You smiled down at him.

“Ready for me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you aren’t forgetting something?”

Oliver looked at you questioningly.

“Your pants baby.”

Oliver understood immediately, moving to raise his hips so that you could tug his pants off his body. You looked down at his fully nude body with a grin.

“Perfect.”

You moved forward placing your thighs on either side of Olivers. His hands latched on your waist as his lips moved to kiss the valley of your breasts. You wound your hands around Oliver's neck, fingers grasping his hair before giving it a tug. 

“Eyes on me baby.”

Oliver looked up at you, his eyes never leaving your face as you sank down onto him. 

“Oh Ollie!”

“Feel so good darlin’-fuck-ugh.”

You ground yourself against Oliver's dick before beginning to bounce up and down. Oliver helped you out, his hands gripping your body as he guided your movements. You placed your hands on his knees giving you more leverage. Oliver glanced back at the mirror, his eyes following your movements through the reflection. The sight of you bouncing yourself on his dick was almost enough to make him cum again but he decided that this time he wanted to last longer so he opted for turning back to you. One of his hands found their way to your pussy, his finger moving to give your clit some attention. The moan that left your mouth was down right sinful and it made Oliver's chest rise in pride. He was the one making you feel good. Not any of those idiots downstairs. Him.

“Ollie…”

“You close?”

“Yeah baby…please Ollie please.”

He loved seeing you beg for him like this. It made him feel like a fucking king. But seeing you cum made him feel like a God. And he’d much rather be a God than a king. So before you could even process what was happening Oliver had leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple. The movements of his finger on your clit got faster as he sucked your breast and in seconds you were done for. You came with a scream of Oliver's name, your body sagging forwards. Olivers was close too but he needed a little something more to reach his peak. He called out your name causing you to raise your head from his shoulder.

“Yes Ollie?”

“What if I had been a-ugh shit- bad…boy?”

You understood what he was asking for. You moved your hands to wrap around his neck. You gave his throat a squeeze as you learned to whisper in his ear.

“Well then I'd have to punish you.”

Oliver groaned out your name, his hips bucking wildly as he filled you up with his seed. He threw his head back, his eyes looking at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath. You leaned into his body, placing a kiss to his cheek.

“Did you like your present?”

“I loved it. Thank you darling.”

“Anything for my best boy.”

[thinkinonsense]

Magnetic ──★ Logan Howlett x fem!oc: Chapter Two

╰┈➤Summary: After years of torture, Daphne decides how she wants to spend the rest of her life; at the bottom of a lake. Out of nowhere, Logan pulls Daphne from the water and finds her help. Now they must navigate how to live with their decisions.

╰┈➤C/W: mentions of death, suicide, cursing, age gap, mild violence, issues with infertility, slight sexual themes.

ᯓ★ mdni.ᐟ

ᯓ★word count: 1.7k+

ᯓ★ spotify playlist link

ᯓ★ last chapter here

ᯓ★next chapter here

ᯓ★ A/N: Thank you all for the support on the last chapter. It means a lot and I hope everyone liked it :) Apologies for this chapter being shorter. I am still trying to figure out the direction of this fic but I am excited to see where it goes! Also, reply if you would like to be added to the tag list <3

✮⋆˙ The sun peaking through navy curtains blinds Logan. He wasn't much of a morning person compared to his peers. It's not like he got much sleep anyway. Most nights, he lays awake smoking a cigar or drinking a beer while trying to fight off his tiredness. Nightmares plagued his mind constantly. Often varying between ones of Stryker's torture or a mission gone wrong. Logan knew in the back of his mind that none of it was happening but that didn't stop them from appearing.

By ten most of the students had cleared out of the cafeteria after breakfast. Logan heads downstairs to get whatever is left over when he sees Rogue sitting alone, staring out one of the windows into the courtyard.

"How you doin', kid?" Logan asked, taking a seat across from her.

"Good, you?" Rogue's head turns to acknowledge him.

"Fine," Logan mumbles, taking a bite from an apple.

Rogue examines him for a moment. Logan's cold exterior was nothing new for the teenage girl, but his furrowed brows and low grunts led her to believe something was wrong.

"You don't seem fine." She quips, only receiving a glare in response. "Alright, I guess you're fine."

Her attention turned back to the courtyard. Logan's eyes followed hers until they landed in the garden. Storm and Daphne sat on one of the benches together. Charles must've wanted someone to give her a tour, Logan thought. He doesn't fail to notice his flannel draped over Daphne; unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up to her mid-forearm. If Rogue noticed the familiar-looking flannel, she didn't mention it.

"The new girl is pretty." Rogue states as if it is solely fact and not an opinion.

Logan only offers a grunt in response. He couldn't deny that Daphne's beauty was obvious. She didn't need magic to make people believe it.

"Everyone thinks so..." Rogue continues on. "especially the boys."

Logan wanted to laugh at the thought of any of the boys attempting to approach Daphne. Not only would she intimidate them shitless; she seemed like she could put up a fight without having to rely on her powers.

"Bobby overheard Dr. Grey mention that the new girl's powers are strong. Is it true?" The teenager's eyes light up with interest.

Logan hesitates then says, "Yeah, they are."

"She said the girl can make you feel agonizing pain. Dr. Grey said it was miserable. Did she hurt you at all?"

The last thing that Logan wanted to do was have Daphne come across as some scary mad woman who hurts people for laughs.

"She used her powers, yes," Logan quickly added, "But Daphne was startled and didn't remember anything."

Rogue nods understandably.

"Was it bad?"

"I've felt worse pain."

──★

After Storm's tour of the school, Daphne heads back to her room. Classes were in session on the other wing of the mansion. Everyone seemed busy with their daily routines as they passed her by. Halfway down the hall, she felt a light glove-covered hand tap on her shoulder. When Daphne turns around, she sees a girl with blonde stripes in the front of her hair.

"Hi, I'm Rogue." The girl introduces herself with a small smile. "You're Daphne, right?"

"Yeah," Daphne responds, caught off guard.

"Could we talk?"

The two girls sit in one of the common rooms together. Daphne was shocked by how comfortable Rogue seemed around her. Surely by now, they would have warned the students about her, Daphne would've thought.

"Logan pulled you from the lake yesterday, right?" Rogue asked despite already knowing the answer.

It was the biggest gossip the school has had in a while. Could you blame them? Logan practically busted through the doors, yelling for the professor. The classes were interrupted, everyone trying to peek out the door and into the hallway to get a glimpse of the woman in his arms. No one had even heard from Logan in months. The last anyone knew he took off with Cyclops motorcycle and now he has returned holding a stranger.

"He did." Daphne nods. "I'm still not quite sure why, but I am thankful nonetheless."

"Logan is a good guy behind that 'big bad wolf' thing he has going on," Rogue says to ease Daphne. It works.

"I thought it was more of a kitten look than a wolf." She jokes, causing both of them to laugh.

"He kinda saved me too a while ago." Rogue finally tells Daphne. "I had just discovered my mutation; it put someone I cared about in the hospital. So, I ran away. Logan was a cage fighter when we met. I needed a ride and hopped into his trunk until he found me."

Daphne tried to imagine a slightly younger and scared version of Rogue going to a man like Logan for safety. She wondered what led the teenage girl to run away in the first place.

"Cage fighter?" Daphne questioned, trying to ignore the heat rising within her.

Rogue nods.

Interesting.

"I guess what I am trying to say is that I know what it's like to have people be afraid of you." The girl's tone was sorrowing as she removed one of her gloves. "To avoid others because of the possibility of putting them in danger. All it takes is one touch or one look, and their lives could be destroyed. It's not fair."

Daphne had never met another mutant who understood that. A small weight was lifted from her shoulders at the younger girl's words.

"Not fair indeed," Daphne whispers under her breath. "I know what it's like to destroy lives..."

Rogue hesitated before asking, "What happened?"

"There was a guy, one of the guards in charge of me, and over the years, he became the only person I could trust and they knew that," Daphne explained. "One day, they killed him unless I wiped out an entire town of people. So, I did it and in the end, it didn't even matter because they shot him in front of me."

Even after all these years, her heart still breaks at the memory of his lifeless and bloody body hitting the floor; all the people she killed in hopes of saving the man she loved. All of it for nothing.

"Perhaps it was for the best..." Daphne said quietly. "Not everyone gets a soulmate."

"There's still hope," Rogue shrugs. "You never know."

Daphne lets out a small choked laugh at the girl's optimism.

"They cursed me, dear. No one will want to get too close to me. It's in my nature to hurt them."

──★

Later that evening, Daphne finds herself down in the library. It's empty, allowing her some time alone. She wanders around, pulling books from the shelves. While locked away, she was allowed to read in her spare time. One of her limited freedoms. Luckily for her, no one came to bother her for hours.

As time passed by her so did nightfall. Daphne enjoyed the quiet corner of the mansion as she avoided the other mutants living there. Not that any of them were unfriendly, far from it. She didn't see the need to grow attached to another false reality.

Daphne's eyes slowly weigh down as they skim across the pages. It wasn't even midnight yet. She could still hear the others walking by or talking in the hallway. When the door creaked open, she jumped from her chair.

"Oh! Sorry! I didn't know someone was in here." A male voice says from the other end of the room.

"I was just leaving," Daphne responded, shoving the book she was reading under her arm.

The man came into view, tall, dark-haired, and sporting a pair of what looked like sunglasses. He had this boyish look about himself, unlike Logan who was practically an animal.

"No, stay! Please." He insisted, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Just returning something I borrowed from the professor."

Daphne hesitated before letting out a soft, "Okay."

He smiles and moves closer to her.

"I'm Scott." He said, introducing himself and extending his hand to her.

"Daphne."

"Pretty name."

Scott already knew who she was; having seen Jean run off to help Logan when he brought Daphne to the school. He also knew how much it would annoy Logan if he got close to her. Scott didn't like Logan from the moment they met; always seeing him as a potential threat to his relationship with Jean. It was undeniable how Logan felt about Jean, Scott thought. It's how he looked at her, talked to her, managed to get her alone; it was all to get under Scott's skin.

Now it was time for Scott to get under Logan's skin.

"How are you liking it here so far?" Scott asked, resting against one of the bookcases.

"It's nicer than a tiny cabin in the woods but a little too nice for a girl like me." She replies flirtatiously, Scott thinks.

Daphne could see right past his façade. He didn't actually want to know her. The only way she's survived is by staying one step ahead.

"A girl like you?"

"Trouble."

Scott can't fight the smirk creeping up on his lips.

"I don't believe that you are trouble."

"Oh, really?" Daphne giggles, eyes sparkling red.

Suddenly, Scott falls to his knees in front of her; holding his head and groaning in pain. It wasn't nearly the strongest she could go but it was enough to get her point across.

"Believe me now?" She smiles, releasing him. Maybe she was perfect for Logan, Scott thought as he watched her leave.

──★

11:28 am.

Logan's lying in bed, a cigar between his lips, and alone with his thoughts yet again. All day he wanted to check on her. God, he didn't even want to say her name. Barely two days and she's consumed his thoughts entirely and love wasn't something Logan believed in. He thought that if he stayed away or left again at the end of the week, he would be able to free himself from her restraints. She needed this support system more than he did. She deserves someone who actually gave a shit about her.

Talk to her, Logan.

He knew exactly who that annoying voice belonged to.

Get out of my head, Charles.

As soon as Logan didn't feel Charles's presence anymore, his thoughts returned to her. The only time he saw her today she was wearing his flannel, leaving her sweet scent to embed itself in the material. He wanted to feel her clinging to him again; needing him.

If you want me to stay out of your head, stop thinking so loudly.

Logan hated mind readers.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

tags: @marcybug @bethexo07

[fluff-lover]

The one that got away (part 2) | Wolverine x fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend broke up with you. Luckily your neighbor and good friend Wade is there to cheer you up. And his good looking roommate is a bonus.

This is based on this Reddit story

Read part 1 HERE

Warning: mature language, Wade Wilson being a menace. Bad writing (please remember English is not my first language, so if you notice something odd please write to me privately).

Note: writing Wade is HARD! Also I couldn't find the owner of that gif, so if it's you let me know.

Tagging @aheadfullofsteverogers because she asked nicely :3

Your days got a little bit better after Ben took his things from your place. Even though you could afford rent on your own, you began to consider getting a roommate, just so you wouldn't be alone, but you weren't in a rush. Instead you focused on your work, your friends, and making your apartment feel like a home again.

You would hang out with Wade and Logan every now and then, when they weren't off somewhere fighting crime, or whatever it is that they do. It didn't take long for Mary Poppins to steal your heart and you offered Al to take care of her whenever they guys were gone. Having the little dog around made your day better: you took her on walks and bought her little outfits and snacks. This little lady was definitely living her best life.

Slow but surely, life started to feel less glum. You knew it would take you time to heal from Ben's betrayal, but you didn't lose faith in love. At night, when the loneliness reached its peak and you wanted nothing but to curl in your bed and cry, you'd remember Logan's words and take comfort in them. 

“You deserve a real man that knows he’s the luckiest motherfucking on this earth, and every other earth, for having you.”

After that day things seemed to shift. You were in no rush to get into another relationship, but there was something about Logan that pulled you in. He could be a real grump around Wade -to be fair, Wade loved pushing Logan's buttons- but you've seen him being sweet to Laura, polite to Blind Al, and even gentle with Mary Poppins. But most importantly, he was a gentleman with you. Always kind and considerate, he would pull out the chair for you, offer you a drink or food whenever you stopped by, wrap you in a blanket during movie nights, and so on. It was so nice to be taken care of, to know there were still good men out there -probably in another timeline, but still counted-.

On Friday evening there was a knock on your door and when you opened you found your favorite mercenary on the other side. 

“Hey Wade, what's up?”

Wade looked all giddy and bounced on his feet.

“I have a massive favor to ask you.”

You made a face.

“Oh-oh, why do I get a bad feeling about this?” you joked.

“Vanessa and I are going to the movies tonight and I need you to come with us.”

You blinked, confused.

“Alright… why? I'm not saying no, but I don't understand why you want me there. Wouldn't I just be getting between the two of you?”

Wade sighed dramatically.

“Believe me, the last thing I want to do is have a group hang out when I'm actually trying to get back together with her. I would rather stick needles under my fingernails. But we're taking things slow, it has to be casual, chill.” He shrugged.

“I thought she was dating someone new?”

“She was but I know from a good source that he ended things with her.” 

You looked at him suspiciously.

“And your source is…?”

Wade looked around awkwardly.

“Okay, alright, I'll admit it. I left a horse's head in the guy's bed with a 

note.”

“Jesus, Wade!” You groaned.

Wade’s eyes softened and looked at you defeated.

“What other option did I have? They’re doing a special screening of Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, and It’s her favorite!! Please? I don't want to do this alone. I would probably do or say the wrong thing, you know me!” He had a point there. 

You took pity on the poor guy, and you took pride in being a good friend. That being said, you could still have a little fun.

“What's in it for me?” You asked.

“Whatever you want! I can get Petter to give you a really good deal on a Honda Odyssey!”

You shook your head, laughing. 

“Endless tampon supply! I'll tattoo your face on my ass, anything you want!”

“Pass.” You said and Wade groaned. “Why don't you ask Logan?”

“I did, he said I could go fuck myself and that he doesn't want to be a third wheel. But he said he would come if you come too.”

That took you by surprise.

“He did?”

Wade hummed and nodded.

“Pleaseeeee?” He insisted, giving you puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.” You said defeated. “But you owe me.”

Wade drew a cross on his chest and smiled.

“A Deadpool always pays his debts.”

-

There are fates far worse than death…

… like chaperoning Deadpool on a date. 

Logan couldn’t believe what his life had come to be. Of course, his life on this earth was much better than the one he came from, people didn’t hate him, he was well respected. He was THE X-Men. All in all he should be happy.

But dear lord, Wade had a way to make every waking second psychological torture.

He hoped you would say no to Wade’s invitation, not because he didn’t want to see you, but because despite his tough exterior, the idea of going to the movies with his cute neighbor terrified him. He hadn’t been on a date since… he couldn’t remember when. And while he could tell there was chemistry between the two of you, he also knew that you were coming out of a long lasting relationship. Not to mention he didn’t think he was boyfriend material. He was the “worst” Wolverine after all.

So when Wade walked in with a massive smile on his face, hands rubbing together like some sort of evil genius, Logan knew he was fucked.

Dopinder drove you to the cinema, making a quick stop by Vanessa’s to pick her up.

The ride there was pretty joyful, you all tried to put Logan up to speed on Star Wars while he sat quietly on the passenger seat. Meanwhile Wade was sandwiched between you and Vanessa, but he didn’t seem to mind, if anything he liked it.

Once at the cinema, Wade and Logan went to get the tickets while you girls were on snack dutty.

“So…” Vanessa started when you two were alone. “You and Logan?”

“Me and Logan, what?” You asked.

“Wade told me he saw Logan leaving your apartment the other day, looking a bit… indecent.” she said with a wink that made you laugh.

“Wade surely likes to gossip!” You chuckled. “Nah, it wasn’t anything like that. He was there to scare Ben away…”

It felt really good to have a friend you could talk to about these things. You had been dying to tell someone about that evening with Logan. The way he felt protective about you, and how he tried to intimidate Ben.

You couldn’t help but giggle like little girls as you told her about the red lacy teddy he found, your face warming up as you did.

“He really did me a favor with Ben. He made me realize I can do better.” 

“Of course you can do much better than Ben.” Vanessa agreed. “And certain X-Men would be a great step up.” she added bumping shoulders with you.

“Oh please! There’s no way that’s happening. He is way out of my league.” You replied.

“Shut up, you can’t really believe that! He clearly likes you.” your friend insisted. “He scared your ex away, told you you deserved better, he even saw your lingerie and liked it!”

You felt your face getting even hotter.

“He was just being nice.” You mumbled.

Vanessa rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“You’re so blind.” 

“Yeah, I think his hotness melted my retinas.” You joked. “Seriously, he’s way too hot to be two centuries old.”

Meanwhile Wade and Logan were in line to get the tickets, and of course Wade couldn’t stop yapping.

“So, when are you asking Babycakes out on a proper date?” He asked and Logan just growled. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on! You obviously like her! And she likes you too. I don’t know why, you’re pretty grumpy. Must be those amazing abs…” Wade rambled. “Don’t pretend I didn’t see you doing the walk of shame the other day, you slut.”

Logan elbowed him. Hard.

“Nothing happened.”

“Nothing R rated, you mean, but something definitely happened.” Wade went on. “I can’t always be your wingman, you know? Tonight is the first step, but after tomorrow you have to start asking her out on your own.”

Logan frowned, confused.

“What the fuck are you going on about?”

“For fucks sake!” Wade said dramatically. “You really think I need you to hold my hand while I take Vanessa to the movies? Hell no! We dated for years, we were engaged at one point.”

“That’s it.” Logan said furious. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait! No! Come on!” Wade pleaded.

“You lied to me.” Logan snarled. “For some fucking reason I decided to do something nice, just once, for you when you asked for help, and this is what I get.”

“Exactly!” Wade said, completely missing the point. “You get to go on a little date with the cute neighbor you have a crush on.”

“I don’t have a crush.”

“Whatever you say, Wolvie. Now shush, they’re coming!” Wade said before turning to you and Vanessa as you approached them, arms full of candy and snacks.

“Everything okay?” Vanessa asked as she noticed Logan shooting daggers at Wade.

“Just peachy.” Logan growled.

-

Vanessa and Wade were sited a few rows ahead of you, giving you a clear view of them as the movie played. Vanessa looked ahead, and you could picture her reciting each line by heart. 

But Wade? He didn’t watch the movie, he watched her. Your heart melted as you saw your friend quietly -and not so quietly- pinning for this woman. It was like he was trying to memorize Vanessa’s face, every single part of it.

You sighed, wishing someone would look at you like that.

Surprisingly Logan seemed to have a good time. He hoarded a bag of Sour Patch, which you found fitting. Every once in a while your hands would touch as you both reached for some popcorn, and you felt so silly thinking there was a sparkle there, as if life was some sort of rom-com. But you just couldn’t help it. He was handsome, strong and mysterious, yet so kind to you.

“Why is the green puppet talking like that?” He asked at one point. You giggled.

“Yoda? Oh he’s just like that, he’s very wise tho.”

“Eh, he’s creeping me out.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, but suddenly stopped when a man in a row behind you rudely told you to shut up. You made yourself  small in your seat, until Logan turned to the man with an intimidating look.

“Don’t tell her to shut up. You shut up, you fucking asshole.” 

The man backed off, clearly afraid of him.

When Logan looked back at you, you were trying hard not to laugh. 

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“Never stop laughing, gorgeous.” He said before lifting his arm and placing it over your seat, around your shoulders. You smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder.

A few rows ahead, Wade had a massive smile on his face.

“I cannot wait to be Wolvie’s best man at their wedding!”

-

Once the movie ended you and Logan joined Wade and Vanessa outside the movie theater. The two of them had a sickly sweet look on their faces and you could tell they were still very much in love despite having broken up.

“So, um…” for the first time ever, Wade Wilson didn’t know what to say.

“How about you walk Vanessa home?” Logan told him. 

Wade quickly got the hint. Vanessa simply smiled and took Wade by the hand.

“I’d like that.”

You said goodnight and parted ways. Once you were far away from them you turned to Logan.

“That was very sweet of you. Helping Wade like that.”

Logan shrugged.

“I guess I’m just tired of hearing him whine and complain about being heartbroken. I swear, if I have to hear Careless Whisper one more time…” He groaned.

“He really likes Wham!” You chuckled before grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket and pulling him to a side. “Come on! We’re getting ice cream!”

Logan was a “mint and chocolate chips” kind of man, while you were all about the sugary toppins. Ben used to tease you about it, saying you ate like a child, but Logan didn’t seem to mind.

While enjoying the sweet treat, you walked aimlessly through the night, talking about anything and everything. You told him about your childhood, your family and your job. He told you about the X-Men, about wanting to get a new motorcycle, and his work at the TVA. You wanted to ask him a million questions, but you knew he was a private man, so you stayed far away from touchy subjects.

Eventually you made it to the building and Logan, being a perfect gentleman, walked you to your door.

“Tonight was fun!” You smiled.

“It was but don’t tell Wade, it will go straight to his head.” Logan said and you chuckled. He then cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, as if he was getting ready to say something important. “If it’s not too much to ask, I would like to do it again.” Then he rolled his eyes. “Minus the other two, of course. As lovely as Vanessa is, Wade can be…” he said annoyed.

You laughed.

“I know what you mean. I would like that too.” You saw Logan visibly relax and then smile. He had a beautiful smile, so much so it made your knees go weak. “So… it’s a date?” You asked with a teasing tone.

“It’s a date.” Logan said with a nod.

You felt giddy, like a teenager about to go to prom. Without even thinking you took a step closer. Loga’s mind seemed to go in the same direction as he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you even closer. He started leaning in, but suddenly stopped.

“I… I haven’t done this in a long time.” he confessed in a whisper, embarrassed.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“That’s the thing, gorgeous. I want to, I really do.”

You placed your hands on his forearms and slowly moved them up to his shoulders. 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, then. Close your eyes.”

He did as you told him, and then you leaned up and pressed your lips gently against his. It was a simple and sweet kiss, but it was the right step towards something bigger.

Logan felt your lips curl into a smile against his. He could sense the scent of your shampoo coming off your hair. He felt your warm hands caressing his shoulders and neck. Your breath against his face, your heartbeat against his chest…

And it feels like home…

That little kiss turned into another, and then another, and then mutated into something deeper, more passionate.

Logan’s hands felt huge on you, one palm covering most of your waist, the other moving up to the back of your head, pulling your hair sensually.

You were about to let out the filthiest, nastiest moan when you heard a door open and your name being called.

You and Logan pulled apart and turned to your door. There, standing inside your apartment, was your ex-boyfriend, Ben.

---

[mondaymelon]

— 𝗮𝗵, 𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘂𝗽 𝗮𝗹𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 …! ♥

:feat~ xiao, kazuha, wanderer x gn!reader:

⤷ just fluff and reader being dense af

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

When you're dense as fuck and not picking up on any of their hints...

XIAO is clearly not one to show emotion often.

Yet, when it comes to you, he tries to convey his feelings properly in the best way he can... it's just that-

You seem to be so impossibly oblivious?

That's not really a bother to the aloof man, since he can't exactly read emotions well either. He knows where you're coming from, and will try to give you the time you need.

Xiao's advances on the other hand... are... well, let's just say interesting. Ever since he had quietly asked Zhongli for some relationship advice, the man had been entangled in the two of you's association ever since, giving Xiao the most bewildering advice... to him, at least.

So now, every morning, the two of you drink tea together and watch the sun rise above the mountain peaks, per request of the adpetus. You didn't think much of it - it was more of an excuse just to spend more time with the man, and so you were happy to oblige.

Still, waking up every morning, this early... you can barely keep yourself from dozing off.

"Come to think of it, do you like the sunrise, Xiao? You must have a reason for constantly inviting me to meetings like this... ah- but I enjoy them, I promise you...!"

Xiao let a ghost of a smile play across his face. No, He wants to say to you. I do this because I want to see you. "Yes, the sunrise is beautiful indeed."

"Aha, I knew it! I never took you for someone as sentimental as that, but it's a welcome side of you!"

"...Mhm." But you are much more beautiful.

The silence that comes after is somehow comforting.

He doesn't know where these emotions have come from, or how they blossomed, but just by being in your presence they are nurtured, and by the day they grow.

And because he can't express it himself, he'll wait until the day you realize it. ♥

KAZUHA is someone whose words float like birdsong.

So when he quietly shows you all the poems he's written about you, face flushed merely think it's because of his eloquent language that you don't understand his feelings. After all, he does use quite the number of elaborate metaphors, so it would only make sense, right?

Yet, when he attempts to convey his feelings in a more blunt manner, that seems to somehow fail as well.

"Ah, you're so beautiful that I feel flustered." He lets out a quiet laugh, smiling at you.

"Thank you Kazuha! You're also very beautiful!"

"...Mhm."

And even...

"Hey, I like you."

"Aww, Kazuha, I like you too! We're really the best of friends, aren't we?"

The only thing that comes out of the male's mouth is an awkward laugh. Needless to say, now the truth grows apparent.

You're just really, really dense!

The white-haired male tries to show you through actions instead - holding your hand, walking you home, even going out on "dates", yet still nothing seems to work. All his hints have failed him, and there's only one choice left.

To tell you, directly, again.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Kazuha!" You smile so obviously.

"Romantically."

"...What?" You glance up at him with a dumbfounded expression, eyes wide.

"It's as simple as it sounds."

"Ah- W-w-wait- uhm-" You're stammering hard, now, and the heat that's rising to your face burns. "You... like me??" You voice comes out as an airy whisper.

"Yes, dove, and I'll say it as many times as it'll take." ♥

WANDERER is a little pissed off - which is reasonable.

He's clearly making it obvious, how can you be so stupid?? At this point, surely you're just playing stupid to make a mockery out of him, aren't you?

Playing games with him, of all people... well, that irks him even more than he already is.

And the fact that you seem to be completely unaware of his rage, somehow, makes it even worse!

He doesn't have many friends, but surely regular people don't keep "friends" as close to their heart as he does with you? You call him by his real name, and he treasures your being, but with the way you're acting so blissfully oblivious... he's just about fed up with your antics.

The last straw is when he accompanies you to do some commissions in Sumeru, one of them being to guard a package delivery from Gandharva Ville to Port Ormos. As the two of you walk up to the agreed meeting spot, the commissioner spots you and waves.

"Oh, there you are!" He grins, and something about the way he's acting all buddy-buddy makes Wanderer clench his fists silently. The tanned man turns to the other, wearing the same expression. "Haha, and you didn't tell me you were bringing your lover along as well!"

...What?

And just like that, all of his unexpected rage disappears as he shoots his gaze up, indigo eyes wide.

You laugh whole heartedly. "Nono, this is my best friend-"

"No, I'm their lover!"

You stay silent for the count of three, before speaking awkwardly. "Kuni, what are you-"

"I LIKE YOU, OKAY? UGH, WHY WON'T YOU GET IT ALREADY!! I THINK YOU'RE REALLY NICE AND REALLY PRETTY AND I WANT TO BE YOUR LOVER-!!" He's shouting, now, voice angry as heat rises to his cheeks.

Ah, the words just slipped out of his mouth.

The silence afterwards is suffocating.

The delivery man is the first to break it, clearing his throat before smiling awkwardly. "Uhm, I'll give you guys some space," before hurriedly running off.

"...Kuni, what was that you just said?" It seems the truth has begun to dawn on you, apparent through the way your cheeks are flushed and you won't meet his gaze.

"Dummy- you heard me!" ♥

(a/n) wanderer is so silly

[vicvinegarandhughhoney]

Dennis Reynolds is AUTISTIC!!!!

(At least, I headcanon him as such).

Here's why:

Sensory issues:

If you've watched the show, you probably already know what I mean, but Dennis really struggles to deal with sensory input. When there's a loud noise, he often covers his ears- like in Family Fight:

or he gets frustrated, lashing out at diners for being too loud (The Gang Dines Out), getting annoyed at Frank for chewing gum too loud.

It's worth noting that later on in this episode, Dennis can hear Frank chewing gum from the other room. He's clearly hypersensitive, and perhaps this even goes to explaining a little bit why his room is soundproofed? Could it be that rather than not wanting people to hear what's going on inside, he's desperate to block the noise coming from outside?? (this was suggested by @kod-lyoko , and I LOVE IT).

There are SO many examples of Dennis plugging his ears (often when the others don't react in such a strong way):

There are way too many examples to list here, and too many images I could give (the above were taken from @dennisboobs ' gif set) but hopefully you get the impression.

Social issues:

I feel like this one is pretty self-evident, but I find deconstructing the things Dennis does super fun, so I'm going to explain anyway: Dennis does NOT know how relationships work. There are a great deal of factors at play to cause this (I would argue that his early experiences in life definitely moulded his view in an unhelpful way) but the systematic way he looks at interactions REEKS of autism to me.

The DENNIS system is hardly peak autism representation (it's certainly not the bright and bubbly stuff people often talk about), but the fact that he has a system for romantic/sexual interactions, both for men AND women, feels super autistic-coded. He quite literally has a script which he follows to make interactions easier, one which he sticks to rigidly. And if anybody tries to implement this carefully thought out system incorrectly? Well, he'll let you know (e.g in The Dennis System episode where he blows up at Mac and Charlie for not getting it right at the fair).

He masks his social deficits well, but sometimes things don't go to plan. Sometimes, the girl on the cruise ship runs away, and Dennis announces that 'that's not supposed to happen'.

He comes off as creepy, but that's not his intention. He doesn't understand the way he's perceived by others in general- he thinks he's the King of St Joseph's, not realising he was actually an outcast all along. Just like a lot of autistic people, he didn't understand that he was on the fringes of society until it was thrust in his face, and that hurt.

Speech:

While Dennis often appears to speak pretty normally, there are a few occasions where his frustration causes this mask of normality to slip.

In The Gang Finds a Dumpster Baby, Dennis is caught off guard by the hipster's reading of him, and immediately goes back to Frank and Charlie, parroting almost the same words he heard right back to them, despite not seeming to understand them at all (perhaps a form of echolalia?).

"I'm out here trying to make a difference, and you're over here rummaging around in the trash like a couple of narcs! Okay, you can't just come down here with your mainline cashmere, mousse... quaff... hairspray, and start being like, a suburban tool!"

It's also worth noting that even the poetic way he speaks when he's angry could be a trait ?? As a recently diagnosed autistic person, in my report they spoke about how I used 'idiosyncratic' language (basically, peculiar language lol), and listed terms like 'connoisseur', which I guess were deemed pretty formal for casual conversation.

And it got me thinking, who else do we know who uses VERY idiosyncratic language? Dennis. Reynolds.

"The thunder of my vengeance will echo through these halls, like the gust of a thousand winds"

"Begone, vile man, begone from me!... I am untethered and my rage knows no bounds!"

"You didn't tell me there was to be pollen!"

Etc... etc...

The way he repeats 'savages, idiots!' during his rage at the frat bros feels very autism coded to me. Repetition of certain words and phrases is common!

Heightened emotions:

Again, something that I didn't know until I myself was diagnosed is that for a lot of autistic people, we spend most of the time at a pretty 'flat' emotional state, but when we do experience emotions, we experience them intensely. Frustration turns into anger, sadness turns into despair, happiness turns into ecstasy- it's why some autistic people might be misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder!

This, of course, fits well with the way Dennis experiences emotions. He spends a lot of the time believing he doesn't have any at all, and when he does feel something, it's overwhelming.

"And I have feelings! Of course I have feelings, I have big feelings, okay? And it hurts."

These lines hit hard regardless of the extra weight you put on them, but when you see them through the lens of autism, through the lens of a lifetime of misunderstanding and overstimulation, it makes them hit even harder.

It hurts him to feel. His emotions are so strong that they're painful, and he's never been taught how to deal with them, because nobody even knew he had them in the first place.

Stimming:

Finally, I think Dennis stims. A lot. If you search up 'Dennis Reynolds autistic' on this very site, you'll find gifsets and videos illustrating this.

He has a few very common ones, like tugging on his earlobe when he's anxious, playing with his fingers, etc, but if you pay attention to him even when he's in the background of scenes, you'll pick up on a lot. Dennis is constantly moving, and while you could suggest this is simply a result of Glenn's ADHD, I'd argue that some of these stims happen so frequently in Sunny specifically, that there's no way they're coincidental.

Glenn makes a lot of very specific acting and directorial choices in Sunny, so why dismiss these as choices too?

That's all I can be bothered to type up now, but here's my case for Autistic!Dennis ! Of course, he's a complex character so there's always room for different interpretations...

but as an autistic person, I hereby claim him as One Of Us™.

[moonspiritmars]

ope I just realized a big reason I was feeling really frustrated/angry on behalf of Evan with the discourse surrounding if K asked for consent or not to fix Evan's arm was because as an autistic person, Evan reads very autistic to me. So when I see people say K asked for consent and then go back and watch the scene and the words "can I try to fix that poorly healed bone," are not explicitly said, I think about all the times I have been harmed by people being vague (both on purpose and not) and not saying what they really mean. The amount of times people have said that I gave consent for something when I very much did not, because they interpreted what I said as consent to fit their narrative and actions is much too many, and for so long people wrote it off as me being naive, turned it around on me, made it my fault when I was the one harmed, the one with my boundaries violated. Oof.

I have had this happen with malicious people and I've had it with non-malicious people, and that's important because K is not malicious, I think they just care so much that sometimes they don't know where to put all that love and care. Also, I read K as neurodivergent/could see them being neurodivergent too, so this isn't me saying they were acting like a neurotypical person, I just think that even neurodivergent people sometimes get really wrapped up communicating in their own ways and forget that for some of us our understanding of language is deeply literal and reading between the lines/interpreting our words differently than what was explicitly stated can be really, really harmful for all parties involved. (sometimes I can hurt people too with my literalism! it's not all black and white obviously)

Like I said, I feel deeply for K because deep down at their core I truly believe their actions aren't about seeing people/things as objects needing to be fixed (despite it coming off that way sometimes), I just think they see themselves as inherently worthless if they are not always using all of their energy trying to help. I get that, and how it feels like you're drowning when you're not giving yourself away to people and causes because theres too much, always too much, love and care and concern and it makes you feel like you're going to implode. One of the hardest lessons I've learned is that sometimes my need to help, to fix, to care, to give, is a little bit more about having control than it is just wanting to help. When you grow up with chronic instability you claw and scratch at anything that might anchor you, and often it's the need to feel like you have worth, you mean something to other people, and you're willing to give yourself away as long as it means you have stable footing beneath you. All of that is to say that I do not blame K (or other people with similar circumstances to mine) for having an unhealthy relationship to control, it's just that in learning so many of my actions are also attached to deep insecurity I've been allowed to finally start healing the way I deserve to heal, and I just want that for others too.

Anyway I need to get my Sam post out before the next episode because I didn't finish it and then watched last nights episode and that was a huge mistake because now I have even more I wanna write about. She is such a complex and beautiful character and every single one of her actions speaks to who she is at her core and I just wanna give her a hug. Truly feels like the peak example of being alone doesn't always mean you're lonely, and being lonely does't always mean you're alone.

anyways pls don't get mad at me I'm sorry if anything came off wrong, all I was hoping to do was explain why I was feeling the way I was in case it helps others understand why they were feeling similar/different things during that scene. Like I said, I love K, and also this wasn't slander towards anyone who isn't autistic (also autism manifests in different ways), I just realized how my experience as an autistic person with adhd always really shapes how I view the media I consume and found it illuminating in this scenario especially.

(can you tell I've been chronically misunderstood my entire life by the way I'm prematurely apologizing also people being upset with me makes my tummy hurt because I take it really personally and would rather keep the peace than hold firm to my opinion at times)

((but I mean if I said something wrong I wanna know asddfgjrlgk wow y'all are learning a whole lot about how my brain works through a lil post about dnd oops))

[ohbo-ohno]

If I chant noncon puppy play enough times will you grace us with more ghoap x reader noncon puppy play?

I would really love to see what you could do with Ghost coming across Soap and reader who are in a relationship but it’s rapidly becoming toxic with Soap becoming pervy and flirty with other people and reader being frustrated with it and the unsatisfying sex she’s having now because of it. And Ghost just takes one look and goes “yeah, I can make them happier” and then puts them in crates.

I like to think he’d put them in separate crates so they can’t actually touch each other but he’d make sure they were tied together so they couldn’t escape each other -💙

if you THINK noncon puppy play hard enough i'll probably feel it through the force and try to write it

also i fucking LOVE this ask and concept i love you for sending it in. this post is kinda scatterbrained though because i didn't want to write an actual drabble lol

im not a big fan of cheating in fics so im gonna exclude the idea of soap flirting with other people, but!!! i really really enjoy the idea of soap and reader being wrapped up in a toxic relationship and ghost going "let me get in on that". peak humor tbh.

i think this version of ghost would be sort of like howling and barking ghost - way more... subtle? puppy play. he's not taking you two home and shoving you in cages, he's getting you two conditioned to certain tones of voice and his whistles.

this is kinda difficult to come up for something with, because im trying to think of ways for ghost to slide himself into your relationship that even feel a tiny bit natural

my fave one (off the top of my head) is maybe you and johnny have been trying to pick up a third like every weekend to spice up your sex lives (you end up having near violent sex and arguing through the third person, and they're usually not down to hook up again) and one weekend you just so happen to ask ghost. he'd usually never take up an offer like that, but he sees the little fissures in your relationship pretty immediately and figures "what the hell?" might as well wreak a little havoc. unfortunately for him he gets far too attached as soon as he gets his hands on you two

i like to think he sort of just... becomes your third. at first it's just hookups (regularly, because you and johnny are fighting a lot recently and you love to do it with a third there instead of alone in your apartment and ghost never says no a threesome) but he pretty quickly establishes himself in your lives

from there, the training is easy. you and johnny are both fighting for power in your relationship, and you're too focused on your little game of tug-of-war to realize that ghost is swooping in and taking control of both of you instead. you're too busy working against each other to realize what he's doing to you

to be fair, he actually is helping you and johnny out quite a bit. you two are both hotheads with a lot of energy, fights happen very quickly and get very heated. ghost is there to step in, to knock the two of you on your asses and make you talk. you would not believe how often he sticks you in time-out, otherwise you two would say things you don't mean and end up pissy

he kinda literally talks to you two like you're dogs. a sharp "hey!" for bad behavior, scruffing one of you by the neck to hold you back, whistling to get your attention instead of saying your name, one word commands like "sit", "stay", and "come" instead of "wait a minute" or "come over here". pups need simple commands they can actually understand

he works on fixing your manners too :/

first step is to get you two waiting for permission to start dinner. sits down at the table and glares when either one of you eats before him, clears his throat all obnoxiously, does that horrible "thank you" when you drop your utensil. it's too awkward to push back against him (especially when you know how quickly he could stomp you down) and it's easier to just... listen. you get a pleased hum and a solid pet over your hair, a "good boy/girl" and the trade-off of waiting for permission to eat is worth it

(ghost places both yours and johnny's plate in front of you, smirks when he walks away and neither of you move to eat. fixes himself a plate, sits down, takes a few bites. neither of you move, you both get a little squirmy, huff a bit. he gives you the command word, and praises you both so good in bed that night. neither of you even notice that he's the only one at the table with utensils)

he sleeps between the two of you in bed because you both get jealous and possessive :/ wakes up to johnny snarling over his chest at you, grabs him by the jaw and hisses don't make me fuckin' muzzle you, rumbles all satisfied when johnny settles a bit

anyways you and johnny genuinely are happier with ghost <3 you're also more well-mannered and understanding of your positions!!! you're just a pup, pups shouldn't have an attitude, and they wait to eat until they're told, and sometimes they have to sleep in a crate when they've been bad :/

(when he crates one of you he has to crate the other. if he locks johnny up you spend the whole time trying to taunt him, and vice versa. also you two are more well-behaved when you know you both get in trouble for your misbehavior)

it took a bit of work to get you two used to the crates. really ghost fights you with the pure power of nonchalance. you're both already Attached, and he's in control of so much of your lives (more than either of you really know), and he treats the crates like they're normal. Expected. he's not someone who changes his mind, and both you and johnny know that. you can pitch as much of a fit as you want, but you're going in that crate no matter what. there's just... a sort of inevitability around ghost

[two-white-butterflies]

wanting was enough | a. targaryen

Description: Aegon Targaryen falls for his father's caretaker. Loosely based on Knives Out. Rating: 16+

Aegon couldn't understand why his father loved everyone except his own children. He couldn't understand why Viserys' eyes would soften around his adopted children (namely Rhaenyra), but never around his trueborn ones. It was frustrating, but he knew that trying to fight against it was impossible. It was a losing game.

"How's dad?" Helaena inquires, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

Everyone could hear Viserys' complaints of pain last night. Old age was a bitch. Aegon could only pray that his father dies soon - at least they'd be left with money - but alas, bad grass die slow.

"Don't know. Wasn't allowed inside." he answered, taking the mug out of the counter - stealing his sister's coffee before she could take a sip. "I'll ask (your name) then," Helaena replies - rolling her eyes as he takes a sip of her sweetened cup of joe.

His eyebrows bumped into each other.

"Who?" he inquires - unfamiliar with the name. "Dad's nurse, apparently he's paying for her uni. She wants to be a doctor." Aemond barges into the room, pushing his siblings away as he boils water for their mother's tea.

Aegon snorts.

"I wasn't aware that our father ran a fucking foundation." he complains. Why was Viserys paying for another person's education when he didn't want to pay for his?

"I don't give a fuck about it - but the nurse is kinda hot." Aemond ponders - a pout was on his lips, contemplating on whether or not he'd 'tap' that. "I'll see where it goes." he smirks, already imagining your lips around him.

"Disgusting," Helaena shakes her head - pouring herself another cup of coffee, making sure to add a lot of creamer in order to avoid the bitter taste. "Hel, everyone knows that you swing both ways - I'm pretty sure she's hot in a female gaze too." Aemond nods his head - like they were talking about a celebrity and not a fucking girl that was sharing the same room as them.

"I'll be the judge of that," her eyes narrowed, and the kettle began to boil. Aemond lets out a sarcastic chuckle, holding the pot in his left hand and stealing his sister's coffee with the other. "Thanks, Hel." he grinned, walking out of the kitchen before Helaena could hit his head.

Aegon clenches his jaw at the sight of you. Beautiful - that he almost forgot what his name was.

"Viserys is alright. He had a bit of a back pain last night." you smiled at his mother - eyes dazzling and joyous.

What did it feel like to be happy all the time?

Your eyes trail towards him - scanning his shirtless body with hidden intention. He didn't have abs or anything - his stomach was round and perfect. Enough to leave a lot to imagination. Aegon's eyes widen, realizing that he was just wearing his towel.

Alicent turns to look behind her.

"Umm mom, where did you put my clothes?" he scratched the back of his head. This wasn't a pleasant first meeting.

"They're in the laundry room, (your name). Can you get them?" Alicent tilted her head. You reply with a nod - immediately walking and retrieving his clothes.

He paces back and forth in his room, feeling the water drip down his body. He felt embarrassed that you saw him that way - but also slightly happy because he could see that he was your type.

A knock on the door breaks him from his thoughts.

He opens the door quickly, peaking his head through and meeting your eyes. "Here are your clothes! I ironed them, I'm sorry it took so long." you smile at him and his hand reaches to touch his shirt.

It was warm, that means that you weren't lying.

"That's okay," he kept staring at your eyes - finding himself drawn in by their beautiful hues. "Is there anything else you need help with?" you raise both of your eyebrows and he shakes his head.

"T-thank you," he stuttered - not used to saying that word.

It was the evening of Helaena's birthday. The young guests were drunk - and the old guests were either sleeping upstairs or home. Aegon couldn't find himself drinking alcohol - it was too familiar to his father - too familiar to feel safe.

His eyes drift towards the dance floor - where you were joyfully dancing with one of his ex-classmates.

He knows who that man is - Cregan Stark. A younger boy who was accelerated into his section. He hates him. Cregan was cocky, arrogant, and too sure of himself - basically a copy of Aegon.

His jaw clenches - seeing you grind against him like a whore in heat. He wanted that for him - he wanted you to do that to him.

"Close your mouth. You're inviting flies," Alys sits beside him - a small glass of champagne was on her hand. His eyes glance towards her - he was unaware that she was invited. After her messy breakup with Aemond - she was basically excommunicated from the entire family.

"New girl huh? Aemond told me that she's a nurse," Alys ran her finger around the rim of the glass.

Ah, they got back together.

"What about it?" he answered bitterly - keeping that wall high and unreachable. "According to my experience, nurses are good fucks. They're a little bratty though - since they were mean girls in high school." she teased, searching for emotions in his stoic face.

"She's from a foreign country. She doesn't look like the type to be mean." he replied and a small chuckle exits the woman's mouth. "Good, you know something about her." she slumped on the chair - looking at you while you stop dancing.

"You're welcome," she whispers in his ear - standing up as you began marching towards him. His eyebrows merged into each other for a moment, totally clueless of what Alys did for him.

"Who was that?" you ask cautiously - hands on your hips and staring at him with an accusatory glare. "Alys, and why do you care?" he tried his best to be hard to get. "I don't care, I was just asking." you reasoned - looking away from him.

There was a weird feeling inside your chest - like you wanted to stab someone and hide their body in the mountains.

"People typically don't ask unless they care," he pointed out, smiling to himself as you walk away.

Thank you, Alys.

You ignored him the following day. Cleaning around his room while ignoring his words of complaint. "Get that thirty bro," he yelled into the mic - prepared to render his cousin deaf with the screaming.

"Baela, I swear to fucking god - if that was a snake it would've bit you already." he cursed again - killing the enemy with ease. "Don't scream at me. I saw it but you KS'ed me." the girl replied in an angry tone.

"I didn't KS you. You were lagging - tell Uncle Daemon to buy better internet." he trashtalked. Staring at you while he belittled his cousin.

Was that a turn off?

Was he being icky?

"Bitch please, tell your ugly ass dad to stop subscribing to satellite network." Baela rolled her eyes, stealing her uncle's kill.

"You're the one stealing my kills, fucking hypocrite buy yourself a new personality." he groaned and his cousin turns her camera on - flashing him two middle fingers.

He rolls his eyes, seeing that Baela disconnected again.

"I swear to god," he mumbled - turning his gaming chair around, and his eyes meet with yours. You were holding a basket filled with his clothes. "Can I help you?" he frowns, still frustrated with the game.

A small laugh exits your mouth.

"Is something funny?" he takes the headphones off. "It's amusing to see you frustrated over Fortnight." you snort - still fighting off a round of laughter. "You wouldn't understand," he rolls his eyes.

"Oh simpletons will never understand fortnight. It is deeply profound and must be studied by scientists." you exaggerated.

He couldn't fight the smile on his lips.

@pearlstiare @sweethoneyblossom1@tinykryptonitewerewolf @cheri-ladyy @watercolorskyy @bellastwd @nyctophilicvitnir @fan-goddess

[bitchesgetriches]

Bitches I need some advice.

I'm fat, okay? I'm not ashamed about it. It just... Is. I'm fat.

Being fat is also fucking me up. It's causing me sleep problems, it's fucking my joints, I can't walk as far as I used to, I haven't run in years.

I want to lose weight. Not for anyone else. For me. I want to be fit again.

I'm surrounded by people telling me I'm "not fat" and need to "love myself like I am". I'm 210lb and 5'3". Ya girl is fat. And I'm okay with that it's not a bad word. I love myself. But I also love the things I used to be able to do when I was fitter. It's just really fucking hard.

I've got zero support left and right. And I don't know what to do. I know this isn't your area of expertise, but you're such great internet mamas that maybe you can help.

My darling child, we are SO humbled that you came to us with this. And while this isn't an area of our OFFICIAL expertise... weight and athleticism is something that I, Piggy, personally think a lot about! So let me see if I can offer some support to you, my beloved fat child.

By way of background: I have never been fat. Heavier than I want currently, but not fat. So I don't completely understand what you're going through. I have always been an athlete of one sort or the other. But more than that, I have always had the privilege of being relatively skinny without trying. At peak fitness I was running and rock climbing and doing all the stretchy and weight-trainy stuff. I was 5'5" and 130 lbs of jacked Bitch.

I am also a proud Italian American woman, which means that after 30 genetics decreed that I start putting on weight and rounding out and coming into my full Zia-ness. I'm currently 155 lbs. and running/climbing/stretching/jumping about/weight training is getting harder and harder. And that's frustrating to me.

Fat is not a bad word, merely a descriptor. So I'mma use it just as you have! I'm proud that you are prioritizing your health and ability to do what you love over losing weight for the sake of just being smaller. Because let's be clear: weight and health do not necessarily go hand in hand. If your goal is to improve your sleep quality, energy levels, and joint pain, then you should focus on activities that will work directly on those issues. Maybe that'll lead to weight loss--maybe not!

A lot of the medical establishment is cruel to fat people, so I'd be cautious about approaching this with your doctor. But you SHOULD get medical guidance before embarking on any kind of physical change. If your doctor says "Well, just lose weight through diet and exercise!" then you might want to look for a new doctor. If they instead offer practical solutions for incremental improvement, then great.

One of my favorite athletes is The Mirnavator. She's a fat marathon runner and offers a lot of information on how to start walking more and running as a fat person. I think she'll be a good role model for you as she focuses a lot on energy and joint health.

Also, you should check out Aubrey Gordon's blog Your Fat Friend and her podcast with Michael Hobbes, Maintenance Phase. She's also got some great books out! She's a fat expert on weight loss and diet culture. And her insights into healthy nutrition and body image are amazing. Her data-based approach will help you avoid the extreme dieting and weight loss trends that can hurt your health. Plus she's funny as fuck.

Lastly I will just say that mental health is tied to physical health. You're bummed about not doing the things you use to be able to do... and that probably makes it a lot harder to change! Acknowledge any depression or anxiety you feel about being fat and give yourself compassion. Start small and do what feels good.

Now here are two VERY old articles I wrote when I knew less about fatness. I think they still have a little bit to offer, though:

Why You Probably Don't Need That Gym Membership

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money 

Any fat members of Bitch Nation who want to weigh in? Uh... pun not intended.