#dark web definition

[jarlhalla]

Cyber Security Awareness

Chapter 1. Introduction 1.1. Overview of Online Marketplaces in Cybercrime 1.2. Importance of Understanding AlphaBay and Wildlife Trade 1.3. Aim and Structure of the Article Chapter 2. AlphaBay Market Takeover and Activities 2.1. Department of Justice Takedown Announcement 2.2. Financial Impact and Scale of AlphaBay 2.3. Paul Craig’s Insights on Illegal E-commerce Chapter 3. Illegal Goods and…

[association-of-ideas]

While my Batman fixation has yet to dwindle (8 months strong!), my obsession with The Magnus Archives has slowly resurfaced and, being the predictable creature I am, I have begun trying to categorize Batfam members as well as Gotham rogues by entity.

I haven't gotten them all organized or decided how this would fit into a storyline, but one thing I'm certain of is that the Joker would be an avatar of the Slaughter, NOT the Spiral, and I think that would piss him off so bad. On a similar note, I do think Harley Quinn WOULD be a Spiral Avatar.

[spid3r-trans]

so I have an au idea:

punkflower tangled au

a/n: had to work out some details w this one sorry it took longer! i really couldn’t get my head wrapped around like a fantasy setting for this so it’s kind of different. i hope it’s ok!

~

Miles is different from the others. He knows that. He’s an anomaly— that’s what he’s been told for as long as he can remember. He knows that he has to stay here, in this place, because if he doesn’t the entire thread of the universe could start to unravel.

People would die. So he stays put.

Hobie is different from the others. He’s more stubborn, more curious, and far less likely to follow orders. So when he hears a rumor about a boy in a tower, well, it’s only second nature to want to find out the truth for himself.

The gravity-defying, sleek structure that sits in the center of Nueva York is a mystery to most onlookers. Rumors of twisting elevators, endless hallways, and secret rooms pass in hushed whispers between lips — and Hobie knows they’re all true.

He’s sneaking through those very halls now, sticking to the shadows, keeping his head down. Being here is supposed to be a privilege, an honor, a tribute to his abilities. It’s all bullshit. He just needs to prove it.

In the outside world, talks about what they really do at the facility are common. Speculations, accusations, doubts — Hobie often spearheads such conversations himself. There’s something undeniably suspicious about conducting and preserving the events of the entire multiverse based on the theories of one man.

Hobie was never meant to overhear the high-spirited A.I. talking to the leader of the operation. He was never meant to hack into the security archives and pinpoint the exact location they spoke of— and he most certainly was never supposed to make his way there. Still, the heavy echo of his boots reverberates as he makes his way down the empty hall.

Deep within the confines of the building that houses the society, Hobie comes to a vast, empty room. Automatic lights click on when he enters, making him squint at the sight before him. A strange metallic structure juts abruptly from the floor, rising high into the air and doming at the top.

It’s a tower.

Of all the outlandish rumors he heard, Hobie had hoped this one was a myth.

—

Fuck. His head hurts. Hobie slowly regains consciousness, starting to move his hand to feel what must be a massive lump forming on his forehead — only to realize that he can’t. He’s tied to a chair and his web-shooters are gone.

Panic doesn’t have a chance to set in before his spider sense — which has decided to work now — goes off, and a figure emerges from the shadows.

A boy, apprehensive and wielding a frying pan glowers at Hobie from across the room.

“Who are you?” He asks, “And how did you find me?”

—

Miles needed convincing. It’s not easy to leave a place when you’re told the entire multiverse could collapse and it would be your fault— but Miles wants to go.

Hobie is convincing. He tells Miles in his silly accent about what’s really out there. About the experiences Miles can still have— he wants Miles to come with him.

Sneaking out of the facility is no easy task. Hobie almost wonders if it was worth it, if he did the right thing — but when they stumble into one of the few spots left in Nueva York where nature thrives, Miles smiles.

And in that brief moment, Hobie knows.

Send an army, let the entire multiverse collapse — he’ll be by Miles’ side.

[anthony7612]

THERE'S MORE BEYOND THOSE COOKIES.

PIBBY: WEB OF DARKNESS - COMING SOON

[musical-chick-13]

Setting an Official Deadline™ for myself of getting the last bits of chapters 2 and 3 done, which means. Chapter 1. Genuinely for real happening very soon. I may make a separate post ahead of time over what this thing is actually about so that people can be Aware (because. trigger warnings.), but I haven't decided yet.

[chai-en-kaadhale]

normal guy elevator hitch is just michael crew

the falling ending on the 9th floor? uh yeah, someone didn't read the ex-altiora and we all know who

[britishchick09]

insta icons are square now? :o

[starkeyvhs]

interruptions

PAIRING: nerd!rafe cameron x popular!reader

SUMMARY: you keep on interrupting rafe’s rambles with your kisses.

WORD COUNT: 565

WARNINGS: lots of kisses; fluffy mostly, just very slightly suggestive in between; usage of nicknames; rafe being kinda shy and flustered my baby :’)

EDITH SPEAKS: this fic is inspired by this fic by @xoxochb. it’s a percy jackson one, and if you are interested in that fandom i definitely recommend reading this fic and checking the rest of their stuff out!

and, thank you to @maddsxfall too who helped me write this fic :) I love u maddie! <3

I hope you all enjoy reading this! as always, reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated 🌌

masterlist / join my taglist / requests / moodboard and concept for my nerd!rafe x popular!reader fic

“The cosmos is made of isolated points – the stars, which are connected by invisible lines of influence, and similarly, our brains are also made of isolated points, in this case, the neurons, which are also connected by–”

Rafe’s ramble is cut off with your lips pressed on his, his eyes immediately shutting close at the reaction. 

“What was that?” He mumbles, eyes barely open as you pull back and look up at him, gently pushing his glasses above the bridge of his nose. 

“You just looked so cute rambling about whatever it was you were rambling about,” you laugh softly. 

His own lips lift up to a small smile as he softly shakes his head. “As I was saying, our neurons are also connected by invisible lines of influence and– mmph neurons create patterns of thoughts and memory while– mmh stars create– hmm patterns for navigation and storytelling,” Rafe looks at your grinning face, the way you feel so victorious about interrupting his ramble again and again with kisses. 

“What else?” You mumble softly, pressing your lips back to his in a firm kiss, allowing both of yourself to stay in your bubble for a moment or so before pulling back. 

“Uh, also uh…” Rafe clears his throat, a little flustered from your kisses, which you can visibly see from the pink flush beginning to color his cheeks. You giggle softly, watching how his glasses slide down his nose again and just decide to take them off, carefully keeping them to the side. 

“Mhm, go on,” I hum softly, giving him another small kiss. 

“There are 86 billion neurons in a human brain,” Rafe murmurs against your lips, and you kiss them softly again, “and when we zoom out enough– mmh the web of neurons looks a lot like–” A soft gasp leaves Rafe lips when you begin to trail your lips behind his ear, gently kissing the delicate skin there before trailing down to the side of his neck. 

“Yeah baby?” You mumble into his neck, your voice vibrating against his skin which sends a shiver down his spine. 

“looks a lot like… the cosmos, like the… galaxy clusters connected… with…” he lets out soft breaths between words, feeling his eyelids getting heavier. “dark matter…” he finally breathes out. 

You are pressing gentle kisses over the sensitive skin of his neck, soft shallow breaths leaving his lips as he feels a certain tingling sensation on his neck. 

“You’re so smart…” you mumble softly, kissing up to his sharp jawline and over his cheek before reaching his lips again, and pressing a soft kiss to them. “I love hearing you ramble,” you mumble against his lips, pulling back slightly and smiling at his flustered cheeks. 

“You… you do?” Rafe mumbles quietly, “it’s not boring?”

You shake your head with your smile still proud on your lips. “Never. Do it as much as you want to,” you murmur. 

“Did you know there were countless stars that were a part of ancient constellations, but they just dimmed or have gone supernova?” He blurts out, his voice quiet. 

You let out a soft chuckle and give him a soft peck on his lips. “Oh yeah?” You murmur, kissing his lips again. “Tell me more.” 

Rafe can feel his heart warming as you kiss him repetitively and ask him to tell you more. 

Oh here we go again.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

taglist: @oxpogues4lifexo / @inthelibrarybtw / @mileyraes / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley / @superswaggycooch / @khaisdrz / @weirdowithnobeardo / @chimchimjiminie16 / @ursovaine / @mariamadison6-blog / @snowtargaryen / @htlkira / @acidfeens / @r4fe-cam3ron

tagging a few moots: @runningfrom2am / @ilyrafe / @zyafics / @nemesyaaa / @ladyinbl00d / @jjsbank444 / @b1mb0slvt / @maddsxfall

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: How You Hypnotize

❤︎ "People are afraid, very much afraid of those who know themselves. They have a certain power, a certain aura and a certain magnetism." - Rajneesh

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✿ Pile One (5oW, Strength, 8oC, Judgement)

Do you have Mula (Sagittarius), Magha (Leo), or Ashwini (Aries) placements? You’re giving off some serious last-one-standing energy. Mula is particularly known for its ability to defy all odds, taking down a “beast” that seems far stronger through wit and quick resolve. It embodies the Belle archetype—well-read, gentle, and kind—able to reign in even the most formidable challenges. This energy suggests a remarkable strength in navigating difficult situations, using intelligence and empathy to emerge victorious.

Life has tried you, pushed you to the brink, and dangled you over a cliff. All while a crowd of people whooped and hollered, rooting for your demise.

But guess what… you’re the one sitting pretty on top of a mountain while everyone else is where?… oh, AT THE BOTTOM OF THE FUCKING CLIFF!

I didn’t plan this reading to be so… boastful? But you deserve to puff your chest out, babe.

You’ve had enemies. Honestly, this isn’t common. When the average person hears about somebody having a lot of “haters” they brush it off and assume that person just has a big head. However, that’s your reality. Your energy triggers people so they consider you a threat to whatever they have going on. For some of you, this could be your own family or closest friends. 

There’s a quiet, obsessive intensity behind your eyes. The fire element is prominent in this reading, indicating a deep, aching desire to consume, burn, and clear everything in your path. While you may feel exhausted from a lifetime of battles, your soul thrives on challenges, igniting a fierce determination within you. This duality fuels your passion, pushing you to confront obstacles head-on, even when the struggle feels overwhelming. Embrace that fire; it’s not just a source of exhaustion, but also a wellspring of resilience and transformation.

🎵YOU KNOW WHEN TO HOLLLDDD ‘EM, KNOWW WHEN TO FOOLLDD ‘EMM, KNOW WHEN TO WALLKKK AWAY, KNOW WHEN TO RUUUUUNNNNNN! 🎵

Your intelligence transcends mere book smarts and common sense, creating an incredibly hypnotic aura around you. Your situational awareness allows you to navigate social dynamics effortlessly, running circles around people, and leaving them tangled in their own webs of thought. You’re scarily smart, a strategic thinker who sees layers others miss. There’s a striking contrast between your physical appearance and the cunning nature beneath the surface; you may look like a doll, seemingly delicate and innocent, but there’s a fierce and dangerous intellect at play. This duality not only captivates those around you but also keeps them guessing about your next move. You also possess incredible endurance—not just in a physical sense, but in your ability to withstand a remarkable amount of bullshit that would have caused most people to tap out long ago.

People look at you and think, “How?” How are you still standing, and how did you manage to come out on top? This aura of resilience draws some people in, compelling them to want to learn your secrets. However, not everyone’s interest is innocent; for some, it morphs into a dark obsession, pushing them to challenge your resolve and see if they can crack your thick skin. This dynamic creates a complex dance around you, where admiration and envy intertwine.

P.S. Even if you’re not Ketu dominant or a Mula native, please watch Claire Nakti’s, The “Final Girl” Astrological placement research video, you will definitely resonate. If you comment, tell them AriJackz from Tumblr sent you!

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

✿ Pile Two (Knight of Pentacles, 2oS, Strength, 7oC (S?), The Star, Judgemental, Short, Melancholic, 4oP)

“HEART BEEN BROKE SO MANY TIIMMESSS

I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO BELIEVEEE

MAMA SAYS IT’S MY FAULLT, IT’S MY FAULLTTT

I WEAR MY HEART OF MY SLEEEEVVVEEEE!”

It’s not your fault, baby! Bitches are just greedy 🙄

This is straightforward, you’re a star! You have that undeniable je ne sais quoi, ¿Cómo se dice… “Everyone wants to be them” energy. As a multi-faceted individual, you possess countless layers that draw people in. Each aspect of your personality holds a unique appeal, making it so that there’s a piece of you that everyone desires. This captivating nature not only sets you apart but also invites beggars who benefit from being near your energy. 

You’re not consciously aware of this power and that’s what makes it great; it’s not manipulated or curated, you just are. In your younger years, you were like a fairy prancing around with a basket of love, giving away pieces of your heart to anyone who looked your way with sad little-kicked puppy eyes. 

However, the world is full of greedy hands that have no intention of giving as much as they receive. You were born with a heart of gold and encountered these all-consuming energies quite early in life, prompting you to spend your adolescence developing discernment and better judgment to avoid getting burned again. This journey has shaped you into someone who values authenticity and reciprocity, allowing you to navigate relationships with a keen awareness of what truly nurtures your spirit.

Even if you don’t feel you have anything explicitly special about you, everyone else sees that you do! In a world where many feel boring and unoriginal in their own skin, your vibrant energy can be a source of irritation for those who struggle with their own identity. Your unique shine serves as a reminder of what they lack, sparking feelings of envy or frustration.

Although, that doesn't mean they won’t play nice in your face while robbing you blind behind your back. You learned this the hard way. 

“There's an old saying in Tennessee — I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again.” - George W. Bush

YOU DON’T PLAY. You hold your magic close to your chest and are very weary of possible leeches. This guardedness reflects your hard-won wisdom; you know how precious your energy is and are selective about who gets to share in it. THIS IS HYPNOTICCCC.

Your presence is exclusive; not just anyone gets to brush shoulders with you. This rarity makes people eager to be seen as special enough to get close to you. You have options—a variety of choices in friends, partners, lovers—and that selectivity only heightens the allure. People yearn to be among the few you hand-select to join your inner circle, hoping to share in your energy and insights. This creates a magnetic pull, as they aspire to earn a place in your life.

If you didn’t know this, I’m telling you now. Look back on your social interactions and the slick words said to you, probably people accusing you of thinking you’re the shit (you are), and you’ll see just how much of a star you are. 

P.S. Some of you are tiny little spitfires. I don’t think that’s important, but I felt inclined to mention it. If so, that adds to the allure. 5 foot nothing but your attitude is 10 feet tall.

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

✿ Pile Three (Knight of Pentacles, 2oS, Strength, 7oC (S?), The Star, Judgemental, Short, Melancholic, 4oP)

You’re a storm, baby. I know I got some Adra natives in the cleerrb!

A few days ago, my 59-year-old neighbor and I were walking around the park, it was eerily quiet- no children were playing in the field and the trees were the stillest I had ever seen. Breaking the silence, she told me about a belief in ancient Hindu folklore that on days when the sky is framed in dark, dense clouds and the winds are still- not a single gust rustling the trees- the Earth is waiting with weighted breath for the outcome of a long-withstanding battle against good and evil.

She said that when I woke up the next morning, to check the news and see if a famous politician or some powerful person behind the scenes had died- thus being defeated. I checked; a few notable names had passed but the stand-out thing that happened was a vision I saw in a dream where an ex-friend sent me a letter in the mail admitting to some harmful actions I had growing suspicions about. This finally put my mind at ease and reaffirmed my gut intuition. 

I don’t know how to say this without sounding so… metaphorical/poetic, but you’re the person divine consciousness sends to represent the light’s grand victory. You are the embodiment of a prevailing soul. With all ten swords in your back, you’ll get up again and again. 

You’re not sent to the world as the Universe’s sparkling trophy because of luck; no, you’re highly regarded because you walked the same path, you’re no stranger to going to war and coming out with more than a few bumps and scrapes. 

This is not a flashy victory. Not like in the movies where you get ganged up on by bullies, pull out karate moves, whoop some ass, and come out looking like an underdog. This war consists of consecutive, painstaking setbacks and challenges slowly chipping away at your character, leaving behind a shell of a person for you to pick the pieces up and rebuild stronger. It’s a series of quiet battles fought within, where the scars aren’t always visible but the growth is profound. Every moment of doubt, every instance of perseverance, shapes you in ways that aren’t always glamorous but are deeply transformative.

You have scars that manifest as art, each one a mark of survival. Artistic souls look at you and see a single tree still standing after a hellish storm—roots deep in resilience, branches reaching for the light. Each scar is a testament to your journey, a story etched into your skin, reminding the world that even after the fiercest winds, life is reborn with greater tenacity to endure and thrive. 

You carry a thick atmosphere with you, whenever you’re coming the Earth seems to hold its breath to await you. You’re not abrasive or stand-offish, conversely, you’re quite soft, well-balanced, and can even be romantic at times. But that only emphasizes the sharp, heaviness of your presence. 

Yea, we all go through shit but do we all come out the other end with an open heart and willingness to live life optimistically? Fuck no 😭😭.

Somehow... you do and that’s hypnotic as fuck, my love! It’s like, hOW?! Even if people didn’t see the wars you fought, your backbone poses itself like a warrior’s. The way you carry yourself speaks volumes; it imprints on the minds of others far more than words ever could. Your presence is magnetic, a silent testament to your strength and resilience. Talking is just the bare bones of communication; it’s your spirit, your aura, that truly captivates. 

LMAO you’re the type to say less than five words to someone and they’re running back to their friends telling them you’re different from everyone else.

P.S. Your key to bagging anyone you want is your eyes, learn to flirt with your eyes. 

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

✿ Pile Four (The Emperor, Ace of Wands, 3oS, Judgement, The Fool, courageous, Spiritual, Observant, Self-assured, Thirsty, Aimless)

Hmmm, you’re a playboy, stay far away from my easily attached heart, DEMON 🫵.

I’M PLAYING. But for real, you knew the answer to this question before you chose the pile LMFAO.

You’re just plain sexy! That’s it! You’re vivacious and a smooth talker; you like to razzle dazzle your way into people’s minds where your imprint overstays its welcome, making them sick with their lack of permanent access to you.

You’re a social butterfly, flying from person to person, pollinating them with the attention they yearn for, and then flying off to the next adventure, leaving them dizzy with the need to catch and keep you in a cutely decorated mason jar with poked holes up top. Of course, this would kill you, so stay how you are, beautiful!

This might be a bit explicit, but you have a unique way of stirring people’s desires. You don’t need to be overtly sexual; it’s your rare lack of fear of rejection that draws people in. At least, that’s how others see it. In a social world laced with fear, you seem to have an optimistic mentality where, “Every shot you don’t take, you miss.” So you are one of the few humans who aren’t riddled with worries about how you’re perceived and people’s judgments of your character. What is rare is wildly hypnotic.

People thirst over you, like foaming-at-the-mouth rabid dog ARFF ARFF BARK BARK type of thirst… in silence. You are actually way too intimidating to approach. Male or female, socially, people perceive you as high quality and assume you get a lot of attention that the everyday person can not compete with, so they only daydream from afar. 

You’re arm candy. Throughout writing this I pictured famous videos of celebrities like Angelina Jolie, Jhene Aiko, and Chris Evans seducing and unnerving the interviewer through subtle actions. Like the other piles, your aura is the dominant communicator and it doesn’t take much for you to get a mf barking. 

People fear you’ll break their hearts, but funnily enough, you’ve entertained one or two losers in the past and left relationships with a few scars and stories you have to sniffle through to tell. But that’s okay; those experiences teach us how to discern who deserves to be in our lives and who doesn’t. You only let them in because you try not to discriminate, and truly just have a deep passion for connection with anyone and everyone you encounter. Never change, you’re the flame the rest of us moths flock to.

P.S. Discernment and trusting your judgment is a lifelong study; don’t beat yourself if someone who you thought had your best interest at heart, doesn’t in reality. Count that towards your research, dust yourself off, and try again. You’re too brave to let a liar stop your ability to enjoy human company. 

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

[chow0w]

sundew pretty please i just love your style sm

Of course! here's my take:

@ardienothesieno , @natureforlife , and @buonsai also requested this redesign and here it is!

I wanted Sundew's design to mirror the plant she's named after, by adding more orange-pink tones into her design and including these little webbed dots that reminded me of sundew droplets.

As for the rest of her colors, I tried to stay true to her original design as much as possible through the use of dark green shades and gold markings. Of course, I did end up putting a spin on things when it came to her limbs - mostly because I needed to balance the overall colors in the design. I added some red polka dots to mimic the sundew plant again, as well as changing her web/under eye color to be more orange-red. As for her wings, I honestly wasn't really sure what to do since sundew plants don't have a leafwing shape at all. I kind of just mimicked a leaf pattern in orange to keep it consistent, adding small green veins in the wing membrane.

The most interesting part of redesigning Sundew was definitely the vest! I was never really able to conceptualize her pouches when reading the book, although I think that's probably because of how they kind of just appeared whenever she needed them and weren't really described in full. So it was a joy to finally sit down and design Sundew a real combat vest, with enough pouches and flexibility to accommodate her occupation and also act as a little bit of camouflage. Sundew was definitely one of my favorites from arc 3 - and I don't know if it was just me, but I always imagined her sounding like tigress.

Thanks so much for this request! If you haven't seen my blog before and you'd like to request a character for redesigning, please head over to my inbox or check my pinned post to see if your favorite is already on the waitlist! And of course, since it's pride month, Willow will also be posted after this. To anyone wondering, my art contest is still running until the end of the month! You can find a link to my discord server (Where it's held) on my pinned post!

later (￣ω￣)

[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 1

I am not well versed in DC knowledge. I've read a bunch of the older comics but, honestly, these timelines are too confusing to say I have a firm grasp on what the fuck is happening at any given point.

Anyways, this is my story, I made a tumbler for it. I'll definitely upload again..

When the fly on the wall starts to spin webs of their own, can the bats catch on? Or will they be left to dangle in the web they've tangled?

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

You're hardly school aged when you wake in a strange place, vague memories of someone patting your head as you fall asleep. Then it was all blurry and you went from cold hard ground, suddenly, to a warm bed worth more than you've ever seen.

Laying still, staring up at the ceiling, you lay dazed until you hear the door starting to creak open. Quickly shutting your eyes you wait for the suspect to peak inside.

When his voice sounds, back on the other side of the door, you perk up, "Who's this? They're kinda cute." A boy, most likely a few years older than you.

When that deep, fear inducing voice reaches for you, you jump out of bed after it. "Apparently, my child." He couldn't possibly be talking about you, right?

You make your way silently to the creaked door. Peeping through to watch them. "Huh? What?? Like seriously???" Hands resting on his hips, a boy of black hair and lean physique gapes.

A tall man with a build as intimidating as his voice, "Yes, I've run a DNA test and everything." His large arms cross over his broad chest.

Mirroring the older man's stance, the boy questions, "So, who's the mom?"

"I'm still working on that.."

"Have you.. asked them?"

There's a heaviness lingering in the hall around them. "We don't know if they'll talk yet, not till they wake up." He doesn't like not having answers, clearly.

"Can they?"

Swinging the door open, you bark out at your own defense, "I knew how'd to talk!"

His shoulder shot up, face blossoming in embarrassment, "Oh, sorry." Sighing, he tries to appear nonchalant. "Well, heyyy.. kid.. My name's Dick.” Placing a hand on your shoulder, he smiles, “Guess I'll be like, your, uh, big brother?"

Eyes widening, you step away from his grasp. Being in a strange place with strange people claiming to be your family was concerning. Even in your young mind, alarm bells rang loud and clear.

Like a light shining through your darkest times, his voice cut through the tension. “This may be all too much for,” A man, much older than either, rests his hand on your back, “the newly young master Wayne.” He ushers you gently back into the room. All gentle pats and kind smiles as he insists on you resting.

You never spoke about who or where you came from. It hurts to try, to think of the cold, the dark, the pain, the fear. Push out all the bad. Make it just go away. You just wanted it to go away. Wanted to take every memory of before and lock it up, never to be found. So, that's what you did, burying every painful memory. After some time, your young mind turned repression into suppression. Now, left with only bits and pieces, you couldn't remember even if you wanted to.

So, you’ll need to fill in the emptiness with this fresh start.

Life in the Wayne house started off joyfully. You found serenity in the solitude of the manor, disconnected from the rest of Gotham. When Alfred wasn't pushing tedious homeschooling work, you explored the massive house you'd be calling home. The quietude of empty ballrooms, winding halls and stodgy gardens was your respite. While it wasn't a place made for children, you felt at peace for the first time. The perfect home for a ghost with plenty of walls for flies and flowers alike.

Coming from unknown origins with no paperwork to speak of left you in a peculiar predicament. As a child was low grasp on the passage of time, you couldn't exactly say how old you were. Let alone when your birth date was. No one has ever bothered to tell you and if they have you certainly weren't going to remember. Infact, at Alfreds insists on a celebration, he comes to find you've never truly experienced a birthday of any kind. He had to correct this at once, give you a proper one with cake, singing and presents. It makes him wonder what sort of childhood you've been plucked from.

“Well, young master.” Alfred takes your hands as you climb the step stool next to him, “It's been a year now since you've joined us at the manor.”

Your hands slap onto the counter when you finally reach it. “Yeah, I like it.” Smiling wide up at the old butler, you babble on, “everything is so big and warm and it smells nice and I like when you cook and I wanna cook too and-” Alfred hushes your ramblings with a hand on your head.

“Yes, that's lovely, my child.” The other hand opens a draw nearby. “And that's what we'll be doing today.”

You tilt your head as the hand on it brushes over it and falls away, “Cooking?” Craning your neck, you try to peek at the cards he flips through.

“Well, baking, but yes.” He confirms, offering you a smile that's warm and sweet like his cookies, “Today was the day you joined the family, it's as good a day as any for a party.”

Your eyes light up, “A party for what?”

“Your birthday, my dear.” He chuckles softly at your look of awe,“Today will be your birthday, and every year I shall make you a cake.”

“Woah, every year?” You gasp as he hafs you the small stack of cards, each a handwritten cake recipe. While you can't read them yet, there are pictures of each cake pasted alongside the words. “That's a lot of cakes.. Can I help?”

“Whichever you like most we'll bake.” You're quick to pick one, waving the card around frantically, “I would be honored to have your help as well, young master.”

Alfred got to work with measurements, letting you pour everything into the bowls. He shows you how to mix, guiding you hand over hand when you struggle. You can't help spilling half of you what you're given, covering the counters. Sliding the pan batter into the oven, Alfred has you assist by wiping away your mess.

As he begins readying ingredients for frosting you ask, “Are those guys gonna join us?”

You're too busy scrubbing batter from your stool to see the way he deflates. “Unfortunately, your father and brother are tied up in something.” He sighs, taking the rag and finishing your job. With a sullen smile he hands you a measuring cup of sugar, “Perhaps next year.”

The night is spent merrily celebrating. When it cools Alfred frosts and decorates your cake. He places a number of candles, It's the first of many birthdays spent with just you and Alfred.

The next years were your first time in true schooling, a prestigious boarding school to boot. You couldn't remember seeing so many other children before. The eyes you received from strangers when given your new last name made your skin crawl. Deciding to forgo it in most encounters. Yet, for some reason to a great number of your fellow classmates, that fact seemed to matter greatly. If you met someone who insisted or withheld their friendship without, then you'd simply roll your eyes, never speaking to them.

You decided friends weren't important, instead making it your goal to not just succeed but to exceed. If this was your shot of a real family, you wanted to show them you were something capable. Worthy. You were hopeful, determined in getting close.

Only to be pushed aside at every opportunity.

“I got’ perfect score!” The words burst from you with such excitement you're bouncing on the balls of your feet.

Bruce doesn't even bother to look at the paper you're frantically waving at him. Simply mumbling as he places his mug in the sink, “Very nice.” Before turning to Dick, “Come on, son. It's time to go.” You thought maybe this was how a father was supposed to be. Cold, distant and hardly ever around for someone so small.

Alfred steps up from behind your slumped form. Plucking the paper from your dejected gaze. He hums softly before you hear a rap on the fridge beside you. “Wonderful job young master.” You smile for him as he pats your head. Happy to have at least someone’s acknowledgement.

From what your classmates say, a big brother will either pick on you or support you. Soon you came to find that living with Dick Grayson didn't guarantee you any of his time. Good or bad.

So, despite the terror that being center stage fills you with, you entered your school's spelling bee. The thought that maybe you could possibly impress them gave you just enough nerve.

“Hey, um, Dickie...” When you catch his sleeve, your teeth skin into your cheeks. He peeks over his shoulder at you, “Here, it's a competition.”

His nose wrinkles slightly before he smiles. “Spelling bee?” Not a real smile, you don't get those. It's a empty, meaningless thing that hardly lifts his lips.

“If you're not busy.” You clasp your fingers together, steeling your nerves.

“Uh, yeah. Maybe.” It’s thinly masked disgust if anything.

Time came to discuss bringing you into the public eye, an official declaration of your relationship with the Wayne's. Just the thought of it was unsettling, like placing a target on your back. The last place you want to be is the spot light.

“I don't wanna go. I won't go.” It was then in that moment, when the words left your lips, you could see it in his eyes.

A wave of relief Dick couldn't quite stifle, lip touching at the corner before turning to Bruce, “Maybe they're just scared of all those new people. With everyone looking at them, seeing them as your..” That uptick in his features falters slightly, “first child, technically.” Back then, you thought he cared. That this was actually for your protection. “It's a lot of pressure, maybe it would be better. For them, to stay safe.”

Bruce crosses his arms, examining his older child before looking back to the younger. “You have a point there, Dick.” You've twisted your fingers into Alfreds pant leg, half hidden behind him. “Fine. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to. It might even be for the better.” Neither of them wanted you there, thinly veiled behind words of care, never quit saying it.

Not once then did you realize. There was nothing you could do, nothing you could say, nothing you could show for. Nothing to make them see you, the real you. You couldn't provide them with anything, that made you useless.

“Very well, Master Bruce.” With a sigh, Alfred guides you away as the two leave. He was always the one in your corner. Before you even know this life would be a battle.

This give on the topic began your gradual slope into obscurity. In the hectic years of adolescence, you'd come to the conclusion that private schools are for snobs. You manage to convince the old butler, with baked goods, to allow a change of schools. Not wanting to slow your studies yet overwhelmed by your known family reputation. Public school seemed viable, no one had to know who you really were. There seemed to be no object, or real acknowledgment of this decision.

You used to believe, despite how they act, this was it, this would be your family and you could be happy. Surely, you thought, it's because you're new to them. It must be hard to connect, you found it quite difficult yourself.

So, you decided, you'll just need to put in more effort. Show them that there is something that you and they can do together. You took up everything you Alfred offered to teach you when he was around. You learned to cook, sew and clean the whole manor faster than the master butler himself.

Of course, he had other priorities, not just as your caretaker. Try as he might to keep you at the top of that list, he still has duties to attend. So, you would take your days, even weeks, alone with stride. A good time to build your skills on your own, finding new ways to utilize them. Hoping for something, anything, to bridge the gap with your new family.

“I'll be home late today, Al.” While you had gotten away from uptight private schooling, Alfred still set into a well funded school.

He gives a light chuckle of disbelief over the phone, “You have plans, young master?” Pinching the device between your shoulder and ear, you fumble through your first ever locker.

“It's just a club, I'll still need you to pick me up after.” With all your free time, you thought you'd use more of your growing skills.

“At your service my dear.”

You took time to catch on, years of peeling away from the background. Picking and pulling apart from the inside out, finding something that could peak their interest. Hoping to think twice, even once to turn their heads back to the lone manner.

That's how you found them, their secrets; and the life that pulled them as taunt in one direction as the other did. Digging for a way that you could connect from beyond the twice eye catching lives they live day and night. You were piled with reasoning when you found that special place in the library they all seemed to love. The idea of passing the security felt out of reach at the time.

Walking along the dark water line, looking out to the misty sky. You don't wish for misfortune, but you wait. When that light flickers on and that familiar symbol reflects on the dark Gotham clouds, your breath catches. Ducking alonge the rocky cliff wall by the large alcove, you listen to the rumble. You brace yourself as something in the shallow cave opens, the rumble growing.

Then you have your answer. The Batmobile comes billowing out of the cave, in its wake you hide. Long after its departure from the property, you emerge from your hiding spot. Slipping through the closing doors and wandering down into the bat cave.

Despite how they see through you most times, you're sure Alfred knows when you sneak in. So, appreciating this to be Alfred throwing his hand up and hiding his eyes for your sake.

It's awe inspiring to say the least, especially knowing you live above it every day. It felt like peeking through the lives of strangers and you couldn't look away. You don't know why he kept it from you but you didn't want to be shut out for knowing. Yet, you couldn't satiate your curiosity with just this visit.

You had told Alfred you had a meeting after a club and that you would be home late. For some strange reason he promised Dick would pick you up.

Water splashes up from a speeding tire as you walk along the misty Gotham streets, “Aw man, come on!” Of course Dick didn't show! Why would he? When has he ever?

Now, in this situation, Alfred would wish for you to call him for assistance.

“Over there! Look, look!” Across the intersection a pair gasps and squeals, fingers pointed up at the Boy Wonder. The last thing on his mind as he leapt through the night sky, was an unwanted sister.

If only Alfead could get everything he's ever wished for, but you're not a fairy.

Following gunshot and bangs you skirt around chaos, nearly avoiding an obvious outbreak of costumed thugs. You watch in ired fascination as they beat down each threat thoroughly. As the moon starts to sit lower again and the bad guys are carted away, you realize how long you've been gone.

You arrive at the gates in tune to be blown past by the Batmobile. Inside, Alfred gives you a look as if he knows every secret you've even kept. Thankfully he doesn't say a word, You're out of your damp clothes by the time the dynamic duo ascend to the manor.

For people of the shadows, they never could seem to see you creeping through them.

It's through this that you managed to learn about Barbra Gordon. The commissioner's daughter was someone you could only catch glimpses of from time to time. It was rare for you to catch her attention. Much too preoccupied with her work for the Bat, your father.

The batgirl's skill inspired your own delve into tech. Hacking, coding and even trying your hand at tinkering with new devices. Creations that you've jerry-rigged and hoped against hope that she would even glance at.

She's coming over today, you overheard dick say so. You've poked your head over the banister as you wait to spot the red head. Yet, once she's there, you freeze. Dick and Barbara push through the front doors together. Light rain chasing them inside from the sturing storm. Their foot falls followed by light laughter and easy chitchat. If only it was so easy for you.

You watch as your brother scurries off, promising to grab a towel. This is your shot. “Oh, um!” Words are coming from you before you even know what to say. Stumbling over yourself, you bumble over, haltung in front of her. “B-Barbra?”

“Huh, who?” At the ruckus you've made, she whips around. Head on a swivel 'till green eyes locking on you. “Oh! It's you.. uh..” looking you up and down she stumbles as well.

You have to give her your name, again.

“Right, right. Sorry.” Barbra looks off sheepishly, carting a hand through her hair. Hand flicking droplets from the ginger ringlets.

“It's okay..” that's alright, that's normal Even. You don't see each other all that often.. even though you remembered her name just fine. “I just want to ask you about some-” Unfortunately, yet unsurprisingly, she cuts you off before you can pull out what you want to share with her.

“I've actually got to-” Her mouth snaps shut before she thinks better of words, “Well, um, talk with Bruce.” She finishes with an awkward chuckle and mumbled “Y'know how it is. Always something with the Wayne's.”

No, “Yeah..” You didn't know.

You've never shared more than a last name with the Wayne's.

Patting your head she smiles, “Sorry again, hun. Maybe later?” turning away down the hall Dick had disappeared to. Even to the all seeing eye you were nothing but a mere fly on the wall.

Gothams streets were dark, dangerous, and the only place you could see them for more than a minute. You loved nights like this, when you could slip from the manor. Undetected by the inattentive gazes that should have kept a preteen like you home.

With this habit of bird watching, you found yourself looking more into your subpar self defense. Living in Gotham has given you a natural caution but all too often you've wound up in tight situations. All because you couldn't keep your eyes off them. Maybe if you show them you could do that, fight back, they might see you.

You put yourself out there over and over, “Uh, d-dad?” Alfred insisted you call him that, but it never felt right, “I've been doing, um, I have this..” taking a breath you force it out, “It's martial arts, could you come see me?”

Another paper half glance at before the typical, “I'll see what I can do.”

Apparently, there are some things even Batman can't do.

“H-hey.. I, uh, am doing..” You pull out the flier for your competition. inspecting it over before looking to see him. Half-heartedly glancing up from his comic, Dick gives you a once over before continuing to read, “Gymnastics.”

Finally his eyes hold yours when the word shoots from your mouth. For a second you think this is it. This is when you’ll finally have his attention. Finally make that long awaited connection with your big brother. “I'll see, why don't you ask Bruce?” Dick lays the paper on the living room table in front of him.

“I did... he said the same thing.”

The paper is still there when you come back later.

[twstedfreak]

🎬 UPCOMING SERIES: " The Disappearance of Y/N L/N " !!

Ꮺ ⋮ PAIRING: Ryomen Sukuna, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Naoya Zen'in, and Y/N L/N

Ꮺ ⋮ GENRE: Mystery, Psychological Thriller, Drama, Suspense

Ꮺ ⋮ STATUS: Coming Soon

Ꮺ ⋮ SYNOPSIS: Y/N L/N has vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a trail of confusion and unanswered questions. Sukuna, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Naoya, and Toji are all pulled into the investigation, each one a suspect. They all believe Y/N is still out there, but none of them know what really happened. Their fragmented memories and conflicting stories of their last encounters with Y/N only deepen the mystery. As Detective Higuruma digs deeper into their pasts, he uncovers dark secrets and hidden motives, but the truth remains just out of reach.

Ꮺ ⋮ PLAYLIST: here

ORDER IS SERVED !! go here for the official masterlist of the series

TEASER:

Detective Hiromi Higuruma stood by the window of his cramped office, the city lights casting a pale glow over the desk cluttered with case files. His fingers drummed steadily on the edge of his desk, but his mind was elsewhere—somewhere deeper, tangled in the web of a case that had grown far more complicated than he anticipated.

Y/N L/N. Her face lingered in his mind, a puzzle that refused to be solved. The evidence was thin—almost nonexistent, but her absence felt like a weight pressing on his chest. No one had seen her leave. No one had heard a thing. Just gone.

His eyes flicked over the files again, the pictures of the five men who had once been close to her. Ryomen Sukuna. Satoru Gojo. Suguru Geto. Kento Nanami. Toji Fushiguro. Naoya Zenin. All of them, in one way or another, tied to Y/N. All of them, maybe in some twisted way, involved.

The men had all been questioned, but the answers came out wrong, never quite fitting together. They all had their own stories—each one claiming innocence, each one insisting Y/N was still out there, somewhere. But their words, their gestures, none of it added up. It was almost as if they were trying to protect something. Or someone.

Higuruma’s fingers gripped the edge of his desk harder, his knuckles whitening. Why does it feel like I'm the one being deceived?

Y/N had been more than just a person to them. She had been a mystery, an enigma that none of them could solve, and it made him desperate, wanting to solve this case. But desperation made people careless. He had seen it before. And if there was one thing Higuruma was sure of, it was that they were hiding something. He just needed to figure out what.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the photographs again. His thoughts drifted, replaying the brief moments he'd spent with Y/N before she disappeared—her quiet smile, the way she always seemed to be just on the edge of saying something, but never did. There was more to her disappearance than a missing person case. It wasn’t just about her. It was about everyone around her. And somewhere, buried beneath their stories and lies, was the truth.

He pushed the files aside, his eyes narrowing as he stood up, determination settling over him like a heavy cloak. "I will find you, Y/N," he muttered under his breath. "And I will uncover whatever they’re hiding."

The door to his office creaked open, and Higuruma’s gaze flicked to the hallway. The next round of interviews was about to begin. The men who might know something were waiting.

But this time, he wouldn’t be fooled. This time, he'd dig deeper.

There was no escaping the truth. Not for them. Not for him. And definitely not for Y/N.

Ꮺ ⋮ TAGLIST OPEN comment to be added to the official list of this series (in the making) —

@ratedrrrr @barbare2 @artist1936 @tojis-ball-sack @mangiswig @levimaids @poopooindamouf @ukhtlindi @gremlinartstudio @stardustquills @kingshitonly @levifiance @sakanelli-afc @theanaoevre @yu-uwu @personally4runa @indiewritesxoxo @sunahsvt @sakanelli-afc @ivy-vivii @gojoslovelylover @sukunaslilsocks @amberbrevily @eolivy @miniv1x3n @grignardsreagent @noooo-onee @penguinotapioca @ladytamayolover @getomeatrider01 @lucilles-witchery @van9lla

A/N ; Hey guys, just dropping this by before I sleep fgs. Here y’all go! I got inspired by those TikTok vids from BookTok where the character haunts the narrative, so here we are! Lol, be sure to comment if you want to be added to the official taglist of this series! See ya and stay tuned!

The banner and divider design is created by me. Please do not use, alter, or modify the template/design without permission. Thank you for your understanding! :3

©twstedfreak : Do not steal, modify, tweak, translate, or plagiarize anything from my blog. Do not use / copy my template or theme. Respect my work, love u guys. 🚨

[dark-l-angel]

hi pookie <3 just wondering if you could write for Jason and dick (separately) with a fem!spidersona who's a little on the thicker side (not dumb, like thick thighs.) Luv ur stuff!!

Batfam x thick fem!spidersona reader :

Jason Todd

Jason is feral for your body, point blank.

He especially loves your strength.. the way your thighs lock around enemies (or him…), and he feels it. Will tell you shamelessly:

“Could crush a man with these thighs. Lucky it’s me, huh?”

When you’re web-swinging, he watches like it’s the best show on Earth. Says it’s to “study your technique,” but we all know.

Loves pulling you into his lap, big hands sliding over your hips, saying in that rough voice: “C’mere, lemme feel you.”

After missions, if you’ve got a tear in your suit, he’s inspecting every inch, fingers brushing your skin longer than necessary.

Definitely a thigh guy. Loves having his head between them or just resting his hand there when you’re relaxing together.

If someone else stares too long? Jason’s arm is around you immediately, staring them down with a look that promises violence.

Dick Grayson

Dick is the definition of an ass man and a thigh man. He’s absolutely shameless about admiring you.

He’ll watch you move in the suit with open appreciation: "You’re gonna distract me, babe. And I mean, I’m not complaining…"

Constantly offers "training assistance" (especially flexibility exercises) just an excuse to have his hands all over you.

Praises your body like it’s poetry.

"You’re a masterpiece, you know that?"

"Perfect curves in all the right places."

After patrol, he’ll pull you close, run his hands over your hips, and murmur: "We need a cool-down, don’t you think?"

Loves to tease with feather-light touches over your skin, especially if you're sensitive, watching you shiver under his hands.

He’ll take any excuse to cuddle you, all tangled limbs, his hands smoothing over your curves like you’re something precious.

Tim Drake

Tim is flustered but obsessed.

He tries to play it cool, he really does, but you catch him staring all the time.. especially at your thighs when you perch on rooftops.

He has a weakness for seeing you in your suit after a mission, sweaty, breathing hard, curves on full display.

Cue Tim.exe has stopped working.

Loves laying his head on your thighs while working on his laptop. You’re his favorite pillow, bar none.

He gets adorably awkward when you catch him staring, mumbling: "You just… you look really good, okay?"

If you tease him about it, he turns red but leans into it eventually. Gets bolder with time, hands lingering longer.

Surprise kisses when you least expect it, pulling you into his lap to feel the weight of you against him.

Damian Wayne

Damian acts unaffected at first.. but inside? Absolutely not.

He adores your strength and body. He respects power, and you radiate it.

Will absolutely admire your form during combat and not hide it.

"Your physique serves you well in battle. It is… impressive."

Always ends training sessions with subtle compliments: "Your power is admirable. Continue honing it." (Translation: I can’t stop thinking about you.)

If anyone dares disrespect or objectify you, he’s ready to draw a blade.

Loves quiet, intimate moments where you’re both tending to injuries, his fingers brushing your skin gently but lingering over your curves.

If you sit beside him, he subtly pulls you closer, almost like he needs to feel you next to him.

Bruce Wayne

Bruce is quietly obsessed.

He’s a man of control, but you.. especially in that suit, especially with those curves.. make his restraint fray at the edges.

Watches you with a sharp, dark gaze, cataloging every movement.

He adores your strength. You handle yourself so well in fights, and he watches with a glimmer of pride… and something far more heated.

When you’re alone, he lets the mask slip:

"You’re… extraordinary. Every inch of you."

Big, warm hands exploring your curves, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing you.

Very much about subtle possession.. a hand on your lower back, guiding you, keeping you close in public.

In private? Deep kisses, his hands gripping your hips like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

A/N : hey honey, I can also give u extras if u want:

- How they react seeing u in new suits (tight ones… ahem.)

- bedroom headcanons or even mini scenes

- Jealous moments (if someone flirts with u or touches u accidentally…)

- First time intimacy with each of them.

- How they’d mark u… ya know. With kisses or more.

[fellominaarcher]

New York's Finest — Spiderwoman!Sophia x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS

» » When your girlfriend Sophia decides the best way to help you overcome your fear of heights is a romantic swing through Manhattan's skyline, you're pretty sure this isn't what the self-help books had in mind. Between your death grip on her shoulders and the very undignified screaming, it's not exactly the graceful spider-and-passenger duo you'd imagined.

» » genre: AU, superhero, romance-comedy

» » warning: fight scenes ig, fear of heights, swinging thru Manhattan

» » fic type: oneshot

» » inspo: i literally had a dream of sophia being a spiderwoman and was my gf in that dream

main m.list | katseye m.list | navigation

12:37AM. Obviously, midnight. The two of you, Sophia and you, were waiting for these small numbers of people to dissolve. Away from the dock you two were at. Waiting for the lights out too. A part of you were thinking that this is a terrible idea.

Definitely is a bad idea. Very ironic because you're dating the Spiderwoman but you're scared of heights which was quite the irony, even when you're climbing onto the chair to hang a tinsel on the wall. It gives you the slight heebie jeebies.

“In the count of 3,” Sophia said in a low voice, literally sticking to a wall under the darkness and her eyes were as sharp as a high specs digital camera.

“2...”

“1,”

“Okay!” Sophia then jumped further into the darkness and so quick, she changed from her hoodies and jeans to her spider suit. Jumping out of the darkness and did a little flip to show off in front of you before landing.

Were you excited? A little. So you stepped up to her and desperately clung to her. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Soph?” you questioned the principle of the situation.

“Jumping heights to heights is my stuff, Y/N,” Sophia's answer did not assure you for one bit.

Definitely one of the worse ways to overcome your fear of heights. Internally, you started to curse at the world but not your girlfriend because you love her so much and so the two of you tip toe to the nearest giant pillar that led to a crane.

You gazed up, the view zoomed out and the height of that pillar felt nauseating to you, almost making you dizzy. “Nope. Nope, nope, nope,” you muttered under your breath.

Sophia gestured to you to climb on her back, “Hop on, princess!” she teased you a little and so you did, climbed on her back. Legs around her waist and arms wrapped around her neck.

Crazy. You should get off the moment you climbed on your girlfriend. How does Sophia deal with all of these for two years? Nobody knows. With you on Sophia's back, she started to climb up and up, her movement was not too fast just so you could get used to the height.

“Try looking down for a sec then look up and look again then brace yourself,” Sophia's voice was a little muffled through the mask and you hold onto her tighter, afraid that one slip will bring you down.

“I literally cannot do that,” you squeaked, your voice about three octaves higher than usual. “My eyes are permanently glued shut, thank you very much.”

“Come on, baby, trust me. I've only dropped someone once.”

”ONCE?!”

“Kidding! Kidding!" Sophia's laughter vibrated through her chest. "I've never dropped anyone. Well, except for bad guys, but that's intentional.”

Your Spiderwoman noticed that you were slightly trembling and she shot her webs on your feet and hands to stick onto her for maximum security.

“There you goooo,” Sophia assured you in a sing-song voice and the two of you continued to climb up on the crane before stopping at the top of it.

Finally reaching the top of the pillar, Sophia paused to let you catch your breath. The city sprawled out below you both, twinkling like scattered diamonds. It would have been beautiful if you weren't currently having an existential crisis about gravity.

“See? Not so bad—”

“SOPHIA, I CAN SEE MY APARTMENT FROM HERE AND THAT'S NOT A GOOD THING!”

“Y/N, it's about to get fun!”

“Fun for who exactly?” you muttered, but before you could protest further, Sophia shot a web line across to a nearby building.

“Ready?” she asked, but didn't wait for an answer.

The world suddenly dropped away beneath you as Sophia launched into the air. The scream that tore from your throat was probably heard in New Jersey. Your arms locked around her neck like a vice grip, and your legs squeezed her waist so tight you were pretty sure you were cutting off her circulation.

“SOPHIA LAFORTEZA I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!” you shrieked as the two of you swung through the night air.

“You'll have to survive the swing first!” she called back, and you could hear her laughing even over the rush of wind. “Besides, look at that view!”

“I'M NOT LOOKING AT ANYTHING!”

Your scream echoed across the Manhattan skyline as Sophia launched both of you into the air. The sensation of falling and flying simultaneously made your brain short-circuit. You were pretty sure you were going to die, and your last thought would be about how your obituary would read: "Died because her girlfriend thought web-swinging was good exposure therapy."

“YOU'RE INSANE!” you screamed into the wind.

“BUT YOU LOVE ME!” Sophia called back, clearly enjoying herself way too much.

“I'M RECONSIDERING THAT!”

The city lights blurred past in streaks of gold and white, and despite your terror, there was something oddly exhilarating about soaring through the Manhattan skyline. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the way Sophia moved with such confidence and grace, but for just a moment, you felt like you were flying.

Then you made the mistake of opening your eyes.

“OH GOD WE'RE SO HIGH UP!” you screamed, immediately squeezing them shut again.

“Y/N,” her voice was gentler now, coaxing. “I promise you, it's beautiful. And I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.”

Against every instinct screaming in your brain, you slowly opened one eye, again. Then the other.

Manhattan stretched out below you like a blanket of stars, lights twinkling in windows and street lamps creating golden rivers through the darkness. The harbor sparkled in the distance, and you could see the faint outline of bridges connecting the boroughs like delicate jewelry.

“Oh,” you breathed.

“See? Not so bad, right?”

“It's...” you paused, still clinging to her but feeling your death grip loosen slightly. “It's actually kind of gorgeous.”

“Just like my girlfriend,” Sophia said smugly, and you could hear the smile in her voice even through the mask.

“Did you just... did you seriously just use this moment to flirt with me?”

“I use every moment to flirt with you. It's part of my charm.”

“You're unbelievable.” But you were smiling now, some of the terror ebbing away as you took in the view.

Despite the terror, there was something almost magical about it, the way Sophia moved with such confidence, the graceful arcs between buildings, the fact that you were literally flying through the air with the greatest of ease. You might have even started to enjoy it if you weren't busy having a panic attack.

“See? You're getting the hang of—OH SHIT!”

“OH SHIT? OH SHIT WHAT? SPIDERWOMAN DON'T SAY OH SHIT!”

Sophia's trajectory suddenly changed, and you both swooped lower toward an industrial area. Below, you could see a group of people in dark clothing moving around what looked like stolen goods near a warehouse.

“The Crimson Crew," Sophia muttered. "I've been trying to catch these guys all week.”

“Soph, no. Whatever you're thinking, no.”

“I just need to—”

“SOPHIA LAFORTEZA, SO HELP ME, IF YOU—”

But it was too late. Sophia was already changing course, swinging both of you down toward the warehouse. Your romantic evening of facing your fears had just become an impromptu superhero stakeout.

“I'm going to need you to hide while I take care of this,” Sophia said, gently lowering you behind a stack of shipping containers and didn't forget to rip off the webs she had stuck on you.

“Hide? HIDE? I just survived aerial acrobatics without a safety net and now you want me to HIDE?”

“It's dangerous, Y/N. These guys have been planning something big all week.”

You peeked around the container at the group of criminals. They looked like discount Halloween villains, all dramatic black outfits and unnecessarily complicated masks. “They look like they shop at Spirit Halloween.”

“Spirit Halloween villains can still shoot people, babe.”

“Fair point.” You crouched lower behind the container. “Just... be careful, okay? And maybe wrap this up quickly? I'd like to get back to ground level sometime this century.”

Sophia squeezed your hand. “Stay here. I'll be right back.”

You watched as she swung into action, and despite your terror about the height and the danger, you couldn't help but feel proud. Your girlfriend was literally a superhero. She was graceful, powerful, and had a surprisingly extensive repertoire of spider-themed one-liners.

“Hey guys!” Sophia called out, landing dramatically in the middle of the group. “Hope you don't mind if I drop in!”

You winced. “Oh, honey, no.”

One of the jumpsuit guys turned around. “Oh, come ON! We were having such a good night!”

“Sorry to web up your plans!” Sophia shot a web that yanked a weapon out of another guy's hands.

“Did she just... did she actually just make a pun?” you whispered to yourself. “My girlfriend is making PUNS while fighting CRIMINALS.”

The fight was actually pretty incredible to watch. Sophia moved like she was dancing, flipping and swinging and somehow managing to avoid every punch and kick thrown her way. She webbed two guys to the ceiling, used another one as a human yo-yo, and somehow managed to tie three of them together without them realizing what was happening.

“Is this your first day?” she asked one particularly confused criminal. "Because usually people try to hit me BACK."

“We are trying to hit you back!” the guy protested.

“Well, you're not very good at it!”

You had to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Your girlfriend was literally roasting criminals while beating them up. It was the most ridiculous, amazing thing you'd ever seen.

But then one of them got lucky and managed to knock Sophia off balance. She recovered quickly, but not before you saw her stumble.

That's when your promise to stay hidden went right out the window.

“BEHIND YOU!” you shouted, banging on the glass as another criminal tried to sneak up on her.

Sophia spun around just in time, but now all the criminals knew exactly where you were.

“GREAT JOB STAYING HIDDEN, STRANGER!” Sophia called out as she webbed the sneaky guy to a wall.

“I PANICKED!”

“I CAN SEE THAT!”

The fight continued, and you found yourself getting genuinely invested in the action. You cheered when Sophia landed a particularly good hit, gasped when she narrowly avoided a thrown wrench, and definitely did not swoon when she did that thing where she flipped upside down and shot webs with perfect accuracy.

“Okay, that was actually pretty cool,” you admitted to yourself.

Finally, the last of the Crimson Crew was webbed up and ready for the police. Sophia stood in the middle of her handiwork, hands on her hips in classic superhero pose.

"Another successful night for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman!” she announced.

“And her extremely terrified but supportive girlfriend!” you added, emerging from behind the container.

Sophia swung over to you, landing gracefully beside your hiding spot. “So... how are we feeling about heights now?”

“I'm not saying I'm ready to take up base jumping,” you said slowly, “but... maybe it's not so bad when you're with someone who actually knows what they're doing.”

“Does this mean you'll let me take you web-swinging again?”

You considered this. The terror had been real, but so had the exhilaration. And watching Sophia save the day had been pretty incredible, even if her one-liners needed work.

“On one condition,” you said.

“Anything.”

“We workshop your superhero quips. 'Web up your plans'? Really?”

Sophia laughed, pulling off her mask to reveal her grinning face. “Deal. But I'm keeping 'your friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman.'”

“That one's a classic, I'll allow it.”

She wrapped her arms around you, and for a moment, you both just stood there on the container, looking out over the place. It was beautiful and terrifying and absolutely nothing like the quiet evening you'd planned.

“Ready to head home?” Sophia asked.

You looked at her—mask off, hair messy from the fight, eyes bright with excitement and affection and felt that familiar flutter in your chest that had nothing to do with fear of heights.

Even if you were definitely investing in a helmet for next time.

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[dangerousstrawberryshark]

The creator is bonoimma ❤ @unini was the genius who suggested Please don't be mean Tumblr 🙏

You weren't sure what caused this to happen, or maybe you did.

The rivalry was mutual on both sides, shit talking the other team, taunting; just being toxic overall. You were more vocal than the rest of your team, cocky and screaming every curse in the English dictionary. Across the aisle, Iron Fist looked ready to pound you into the ground, while Spider-Man and Human Torch gave you a look. It was dark and lustful.

The round started, and it was chaos. While the rest of the teams were duking it out, you were suddenly snatched from the action by webs. The ropes of webs were pulled, leaving you to face Iron Fist, Spider-Man, and Human Torch.

Everything else after was a blur.

All that mattered was you being on your knees, naked, with Iron FIst, Spider-Man, and HT naked, stroking the hung cocks above you. Their muscular chests heaving as they stared down at your nude body, their groans filling the air, drowning out the fighting and explosions that were happening not so far away. Precum oozing from the cockheads, glistening their hung cocks as they smeared it.

"So hot," Spider-Man whispered, biting his lips as he used both hands to stroke his hung cock. He was breathless as he was the most vocal of the three, tilting his head back with his eyes rolled back from the debauchery.

"Damn right, the little bitch is better quiet." Iron Fist growled, breathing heavily as he fucked his palm. You looked much better like this in Iron Fist's eyes: naked and submissive. Maybe he'll put your mouth to use next time. He grumbles under his breath, punching the nearby wall, causing it to crack and shake, leaving a fist-sized crater.

"Are you trying to get us caught?" HT whispered as he pumped his cock. He didn't want to get caught with his pants down and masturbating, or maybe he does? The thrill of being caught by either teams made his cock throb and leak more precum, his heavy balls twitching.

You were somewhat lost in the lust, your cock bobbing up and down from the sight of three muscular men pleasuring themselves. You could tell their climax was approaching from the way their bodies were trembling and how they stroked.

The tension in the corner was cracking like a dam. Low groans and growls escaped their mouths as Iron Fist grabbed your hair and yanked you closer. Their fapping got aggressive, balls slapping against hands as the air got headier.

"Take our fucking cum." Iron Fist groans, stroking his cock faster, putting his arm around Spider-Man's shoulder for support. HT did the same, putting his arm on Spider-Man for support. You instinctively opened your mouth, waiting for your reward.

They could feel their balls tightening before hot ropes of cum spurted from the cockheads, coating your face and body with their thick, pearly white load. Spider-Man was the most vocal, followed by Iron Fist and HT. You happily swallowed any of the cum hitting your mouth, licking around your lips to swallow the remnants. The climax lasted for a couple of minutes as they stroke out any cum left.

You were definitely going to shit talk again.

Taglist: @spnfanboy777 @hiddens-eden @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @maxxioislost @raspberryyuuki @furiousflowercreation @ghostking4m @sluttyhusband @wolf-knights @your-cow-boy @mack-thedork @starboye @boypied @sleep-0-deprived @cronasluvr

[cruel-seduction]

Tom Riddle Headcanon || 18+

(୨୧) 6’3 | Tall, intimidating, and he knows it. He’s tall, but not towering—it’s the kind of height that lets him loom over you just enough to make you uncomfortable in the best way. His presence is magnetic, commanding, like he’s taking up more space than he actually does. (You think you can hold eye contact with this man without second-guessing your life choices? Good luck.)

(୨୧) Lean, but it’s that sharp, calculated kind of lean. Like he was sculpted out of pure ambition and dark magic. His cheekbones? You could slice your finger on them, and his jawline looks like it was chiseled by Salazar Slytherin himself.

(୨୧) He doesn’t have He’s not bulky—oh no, Tom believes muscles are for people who need to physically overpower others. His strength is in his mind, but don’t mistake that for fragility. He’s all sharp edges and taut sinew, like a blade just waiting to cut. Tom has power. Subtle, unassuming strength that hits you when he casually pins someone to the wall or clenches his fist during an argument, making every vein in his forearm pop. (And suddenly you’re wondering if you enjoy being terrified of a man.)

WE LOVE A MAN WHO COULD STRANGLE US WITH ONE HAND AND STILL LOOK PERFECT DOING IT!!!! 

(୨୧) Abs? Oh, he has them. But they’re not flashy gym-bro abs—they’re carved out of years of silent rage and perfectionism. You’d only see them under candlelight, the shadows teasing you just enough to make you question every moral fiber in your body.

(୨୧) Tom doesn’t work out. Ever. He’s too busy reading ancient texts and rewriting the definition of “overachiever.” Yet somehow, he has the kind of body that looks like it was sculpted by dark magic itself. His posture is impeccable, every movement deliberate and precise, like he’s constantly two steps ahead of everyone else.

(୨୧) Long fingers, veins visible, nails always perfectly kept. These are the hands of someone who can cast a killing curse with chilling accuracy—or caress your skin like you’re the most fragile thing in the world.

(We LOVE a man who could both destroy and cherish us with the same hands!!!)

(୨୧) His face? The blueprint for the resting evil smirk. He doesn’t even have to try to look dangerous. One glance, one slight quirk of his lips, and suddenly you’re doing whatever he wants without thinking twice. (You: “Why am I holding this cursed object?” Tom: “Because I asked nicely.” …And now you’re smiling like an idiot while the Horcrux slowly sucks away your soul. Love that for you!)

(୨୧) Hotness Level: Nuclear

Tom doesn’t just walk into a room—he owns it. His hotness isn’t in your face; it’s insidious, sneaking up on you until suddenly you’re wondering how you got trapped in his web.

His energy? He doesn’t need to ask for your soul. You’d willingly hand it over while thanking him for the privilege.

And when he’s angry? Oh, you feel it. That piercing stare, the slight tilt of his head, the way his voice drops an octave just to let you know you’ve made a very, very big mistake.

THERE’S HOT, AND THEN THERE’S TOM RIDDLE HOT—THE KIND THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO APOLOGIZE FOR BREATHING TOO LOUDLY.

(୨୧) A Walking Manipulation Manual Tom doesn’t ask for things. He makes you want to give them to him. Every glance, every word is carefully calculated to pull you into his orbit. He’s not just charming—he’s dangerously compelling. (One conversation with him, and suddenly you’re questioning your entire moral compass. Like, “Oh, you want me to help you break into the Restricted Section? Sure, Tom. Anything for you.”)

(୨୧) Validation is His Drug Let’s be real: Tom craves approval like it’s oxygen.Tom will deny it to his last breath, but he needs to be the best. He doesn’t just want to succeed; he wants to be the only option. It’s not enough for him to win—everyone else has to lose. (And don’t get me started on how he reacts to praise. Compliment him in the right way, and you’ll see that flicker of pride in his dark eyes before he schools his face into that unreadable mask again. We love a secretly vulnerable king.) He’s spent his whole life proving he’s better than everyone else, and it’s not just for pride—it’s because he doesn’t know how to not seek validation. He thrives on being the teacher’s pet, the top student. Maybe it’s because he never got his parents validation. But trust me when I say he is a bitch for teacher’s validation. (But let’s be clear: the second you start overshadowing him, he’ll knock you down a peg faster than you can say Avada Kedavra.)

(୨୧) Control Freak Everything about Tom screams precision. His desk? Immaculate. His spells? Flawless. His plans? Perfectly executed. He doesn’t just like control—he needs it. Chaos makes him itch, which is ironic considering he’s the embodiment of quiet destruction. (And He will make sure you’re oriented too) 

(୨୧) Manipulative but Subtly Possessive He doesn’t say you’re his. No, Tom makes it clear in subtler ways—like the way he rests a hand on your back just as someone else looks at you too long. Or the cold, sharp glare he gives anyone who dares speak to you without his permission. (A man who makes you feel like a queen while also terrifying everyone else around you.)

(୨୧) Unyielding Ambition Tom doesn’t just want success—he wants power. He wants to be remembered, revered, and feared. He’s the guy who’ll smile sweetly at a professor while planning to steal their research for his own gain. He has a goal. He will do anything to get there. Anything can include from threatening someone to killing someone. He is, as poet says a psycho. 

Tom Riddle | The Duality

(୨୧) The Charm is a Weapon His voice? Silky smooth, with just enough edge to keep you on your toes. He’s polite, refined, and utterly disarming. But behind that charming smile is a predator watching his prey. (You’re falling for him, and you don’t even realize it until it’s too late. And honestly? You don’t even mind.)

(୨୧) Dark, Brooding, and Mysterious Tom’s the guy sitting alone in the library, surrounded by ancient tomes, quill scratching quietly against parchment. He’s untouchable, aloof, and yet somehow you can’t stop staring. (You just know he’s plotting something, and you want in on it. Even if it’s dangerous. Especially if it’s dangerous.)

(୨୧) The Possessive Gentleman He’ll hold the door open for you, pull out your chair, and offer you his arm as you walk. But don’t be fooled—this isn’t just gentlemanly courtesy. This is Tom Riddle subtly marking you as his. (Imagine him offering you his coat and then hexing anyone who dares comment on it. THAT’S the energy.)

Tom Riddle|| Personality 

(୨୧) He’s the Most Dangerous Kind of Asshole—Polished and Calculated Tom isn’t like Mattheo, who might yell across the hallway for a laugh. No, Tom is refined, cold, and deliberate. When he doesn’t like you, you won’t hear him shouting about it—he’ll make you feel it. He’ll dismantle your self-esteem with just a few carefully chosen words delivered with a sharp smile. (“A shame you couldn’t understand the assignment. I suppose not everyone’s meant for greatness.” Translation: You’re an idiot, and he’s better than you.)

(୨୧) He’s Addicted to Control Every aspect of Tom’s life is planned. His work is immaculate, his appearance is flawless, and his ambitions are unshakable. He thrives on structure because chaos reminds him of what he came from—something he’s desperate to leave behind. Don’t ever try to surprise Tom; he’ll take it as a personal offense. He hates unpredictability because it’s the one thing he can’t manipulate.

(୨୧) A Master of Masking His True Self Tom can charm anyone. Teachers adore him. Classmates admire him—or at least pretend to, because who wants to get on Tom Riddle’s bad side? He wears his “perfect student” persona like armor, and it’s nearly impenetrable. (But let’s be real, you know he’s sneaking into the Restricted Section at 2 a.m., whispering spells under his breath like it’s his birthright.)

(୨୧) Unhinged Beneath the Surface Tom doesn’t snap in loud, dramatic outbursts. No, his anger is a quiet, simmering thing, so much worse because you never see it coming. He’ll stare you down with a look so cold you’ll swear the temperature dropped, and then suddenly— “I suggest you choose your next words carefully. You won’t like what happens otherwise.” (And when he does lose it? You better pray you’re not in the blast radius because that’s some “destroy-everything-in-sight” level fury.)

Tom Riddle | Relationships and Obsession

(୨୧) Emotionally Unavailable, But Intensely Possessive Tom doesn’t do feelings. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. He views relationships like he views everything else in his life: something to control. But when he does fixate on someone? It’s all-consuming, suffocating, and terrifyingly intense. He won’t shout “you’re mine” from the rooftops. Instead, he’ll show it in the way he glances at anyone who gets too close to you, the subtle squeeze of his hand on your waist, the icy calm he maintains when someone dares flirt with you. (“You’re being watched, princess. I’d think twice before entertaining fools like that again.”)

(୨୧) Manipulative in the Most Beautiful Way Tom has mastered the art of making you think his darkest ideas are your idea. He’ll twist your words, your emotions, until you’re second-guessing yourself and believing that he’s the only one who truly understands you. (“You don’t need them. They’ll only disappoint you. I’m the one who’s always been here, haven’t I?”) (Yes, it’s toxic, but are we complaining? Nope. Absolutely not.)

(୨୧) Softness is Reserved for You and You Only Tom is cold to everyone—except you. When it’s just the two of you, he lets his walls down just enough to show you glimpses of the boy beneath the monster. He’s still composed, but his voice softens, his touch gentles. He’ll sit beside you in the library, his hand brushing yours as he murmurs, “You’re brilliant, you know. Far more than they deserve.” (That’s right. You’re his weakness, and we’re eating that up like it’s our last meal.)

Tom Riddle | Dark Habits and Quirks

(୨୧) Obsessive Overachievement If Tom gets less than perfect marks on anything, he’ll lose sleep over it. He’ll re-study every detail of the assignment until it’s engraved into his mind. (If you try to comfort him, he’ll glare and say, “Mediocrity is unacceptable.” …Okay, Tom, calm down.)

(୨୧) No Time for Fun or Friends Tom doesn’t “hang out.” He doesn’t do parties or casual drinks with the boys. His version of “fun” is solving an ancient magical riddle or perfecting a spell no one else has dared attempt. (Though I imagine he secretly finds your mundane activities fascinating. He’ll pretend he’s annoyed, but he’s watching you decorate a cake like, “How… how does one enjoy this?”)

(୨୧) Petty in the Most Refined Way Tom won’t call you out in public, but he will ruin your life in ways you don’t even realize until it’s too late. (“Oh, did you fail the test? Strange. I suppose all that time gossiping didn’t leave you much room to study.” Cue his perfect grade plastered on the board.)

(୨୧) Refuses to Eat Like a Normal Human Being He’s the type to skip meals because he “doesn’t have time for such trivialities.” When he does eat, it’s methodical, quiet, and eerily polite. (You could be scarfing down chips, and Tom’s over here delicately slicing his food into perfect pieces. Honestly, it’s infuriating and hot at the same time.)

(୨୧)  When Tom Realized He Was in Love Tom was the last person to admit he was capable of love. He didn’t need it. In fact, he despised the very idea of vulnerability. At first, he simply enjoyed the control, the power he had over you, the way you seemed so easily ensnared in his web. But then something changed.

It wasn’t dramatic. No hearts aflutter, no sudden epiphany. Instead, it was little moments—the way your laugh made his heart tighten, the way his thoughts lingered on you when he was supposed to be focused on his next conquest. It started to feel like something deeper. The first sign? He found himself doing small things for you, things that felt personal—that were not for his image, but just for you.

Like when you were late for a class, and Tom “accidentally” got your notes for you—notes he knew you didn’t need but knew you’d appreciate. Or when he made sure the books you wanted were always ready for you in the library, despite the fact that he despised wasting his time on “mundane tasks.” He would act as if it was no big deal, but his eyes would linger on you a moment too long, watching you with a touch of something he refused to name.

(୨୧) When He Realized He Loved You

Tom didn’t have some grand epiphany. It was a slow, torturous process of denial. But the moment he knew? It was after you smiled at him after a particularly heated argument about something inconsequential. You stood your ground, refused to back down, and still looked at him like he wasn’t the monster he feared he was. He walked away, but later that night, when the castle was silent, he whispered the words into the dark, testing them out as if saying them aloud would make them feel less… dangerous. "I love her."

(୨୧) His “Confession” Was Terrifyingly Intense

Tom doesn’t stumble through his words like Mattheo might. No, when Tom confesses, it’s calculated and deliberate—but still deeply unsettling.

“You’ve done something to me,” he said, his voice dangerously low, his gaze piercing. “I don’t know what it is, but I can’t stop thinking about you. And I won’t. So you’re going to stay by my side, because that’s where you belong.”

(Translation: We are gonna stay together forever. And we belong with each other. )

(୨୧) Tom’s Denial and “Caring” Moments When Tom started feeling what people call “love,” he fought it. He refused to let himself admit it, convinced that emotions were a weakness. He never said “I love you”—not in the way that other people did. Instead, it was subtle. Insidious. He’d show his affection in the smallest, most frustratingly subtle ways. He wouldn’t bring you flowers or offer grand gestures. No. Tom’s “love” was found in the way he’d drag you into the darkness of the restricted section when no one was watching, the way his fingers brushed yours for a split second before he pulled away, pretending he didn’t want to touch you.

And he definitely wouldn’t say “I love you” unless absolutely necessary. He didn’t need to. His actions spoke louder.

But then, one evening, it just… slipped out. You were sitting together in his private little corner of the library, your laughter echoing in the otherwise silent space. Tom, for once, seemed genuinely relaxed, his usually tense frame at ease. He was looking at you, his gaze dark but softened—something that wasn’t there before.

“You... make everything easier,” he muttered, almost to himself. When you raised an eyebrow, he didn’t immediately elaborate. Instead, he just leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he added, “It’s ridiculous how much I care about you.” and you just smiled and pecked his lips.

There was no "I love you," not in so many words. But you heard it, and it made your heart do something strange—flutter, maybe? But you weren’t sure if you were imagining it because Tom's voice was still so casual. Like everything he said was just... a matter of fact.

(୨୧) Praise Where It Matters Most

Tom doesn’t throw compliments around lightly. When he says something nice, it’s like being struck by lightning. His words carry weight.

“You’re brilliant,” he’d murmur, his voice low, his gaze intense. “More than anyone else here. Don’t ever let them make you think otherwise.”

(And yes, you’d be a puddle on the floor because Tom’s version of praise feels like a rare, precious gift.)

(୨୧) Tom’s Trust and Relationship Dynamics Here’s the thing: Tom doesn’t get jealous. He’s above it. It’s not in his nature. If you’re his, you’re his, and no one dares to get in the way. He doesn’t need to question your loyalty, because in his mind, the moment he chose you, he is gonna trust you more than anyone. For him you’re never at fault but the other person is gonna die. It’s not that he’s insecure—it’s that he knows you would never cheat on him. Why would you? You have everything you could ever need in him.

He doesn’t even feel the need to keep tabs on you, though don’t get it twisted—he is watching, but he does it from the shadows. If you’re not at his side, he trusts that you’ll come back. You always come back. And if you don’t, well… that’s where things get a little interesting.

He’s not showing you off like Mattheo might; he’s staking his claim.

If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, you’ll feel the shift in his demeanor immediately.

“Do they think they’re worthy of your attention?” he’ll whisper, his tone deceptively calm. “They’re not. Let me remind them.”

(Spoiler: He will. And it won’t be pretty.)

(୨୧) Acts of Service, But Darker

Tom will do things for you, but it’s always with a hidden motive. Did someone upset you? He’ll “take care of it.” Did you want something rare or hard to find? He’ll get it for you, no questions asked.

“Consider it handled,” he’ll say with a ghost of a smile. But you know better than to ask how he handled it.

(୨୧) The Gaslighting Is Unreal

If you ever try to put distance between you and Tom, he’ll make you question everything.

“Why would you leave? After everything we’ve built together?” His voice will crack just enough to make you hesitate.

And when you falter, he’ll pull you back in with a kiss so intense it leaves you breathless, murmuring, “I can’t lose you. Don’t you see? You’re my weakness.”

(୨୧) First Kiss

It happened in the library, of course. You were studying, lost in your notes, and he was pretending to read while stealing glances at you. He didn’t plan it, but you looked up and caught him staring.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head with that infuriatingly perfect smile.

He leaned in before he could stop himself, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips met yours. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was intense, consuming, like he was staking a claim. When he pulled back, his expression was unreadable.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he murmured before returning to his book as if nothing had happened.

(୨୧) The Reality of Tom Riddle’s Love

With Tom, everything is earned. He doesn't just give his heart away, and certainly not without demanding something in return. But for you? You’ll always have his trust. You’ll always have his attention. You’ll always know that beneath that cold exterior, he’s obsessed.

Tom Riddle | Intimacy and the Smut

(୨୧) With Tom Riddle, intimacy is an art—meticulous, calculated, and suffused with a dark intensity that leaves you trembling in its wake. He isn’t one for rushed encounters or fleeting passions. No, when Tom takes you, it’s deliberate, almost ceremonial, like he’s claiming something he already knows belongs to him.

(୨୧) The Build-Up Foreplay with Tom is a slow burn, a game of control that he always wins. He knows exactly how to make you crave him without even laying a finger on you. His voice, low and commanding, is enough to send shivers down your spine. He has this way of leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs things that are simultaneously a praise and a promise.

“You look exquisite when you’re begging, darling,” he whispers, his hand ghosting along the curve of your neck, stopping just short of touching you fully.

Tom thrives on anticipation. He’ll spend what feels like an eternity trailing his fingers across your skin, watching your reactions with a sharp, almost predatory focus. Every gasp, every arch of your body—it’s all cataloged in his mind, stored away for when he decides to unravel you completely.

The way he kisses you is enough to leave you breathless. It’s not hurried or frenzied; it’s controlled, methodical. He tilts your chin up with a single finger, his lips slanting over yours with a precision that makes your knees weak.

When he finally touches you, it’s overwhelming. His hands are strong, commanding, but there’s a certain reverence in the way he holds you, like he’s savoring every inch of your skin.

(୨୧) The Act Tom is not gentle, but he’s not reckless either. He knows exactly how to toe the line between pleasure and pain, how to push you to the edge without ever letting you fall. He’s all about control—his control over you, your body, your mind.

His stamina is almost otherworldly. Where others might falter, Tom thrives, his focus unwavering as he pushes you past your limits. He doesn’t stop until you’re completely spent, your body trembling beneath his, your voice hoarse from calling his name.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with dark amusement as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Falling apart so beautifully for me. Are you even aware of how perfect you are?”

He loves to whisper things into your ear, things that make your cheeks flush and your heart race.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough and commanding. “Every part of you. Do you understand that?”

And when you nod, he smirks, his lips ghosting over yours.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm.

(୨୧) Pet Names and Praise Tom isn’t overly creative with pet names, but the ones he uses are potent.

Darling: His go-to, spoken with a dark edge that makes your knees weak.

My love: When he’s feeling particularly possessive, usually whispered against your skin.

Good girl: Said in a way that makes your heart race and your mind spin.

Perfect: Because to him, you are, and he never lets you forget it.

(୨୧) Roughness and Domination Tom doesn’t shy away from being rough. His hands grip your hips hard enough to leave bruises, his teeth graze your neck in a way that makes you shiver, and his pace is relentless. He loves the way your body reacts to him, the way you cling to him, desperate and needy.

“You can take it,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. “I know you can. You’re stronger than you think, my love.”

And when you finally break, when you can’t hold back the cries of pleasure that spill from your lips, Tom smirks, his satisfaction evident in the dark gleam of his eyes.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers, his lips pressing against your temple. “Always so perfect.”

(୨୧) Aftercare Despite his roughness, Tom isn’t cruel. Once the heat of the moment has passed, he softens ever so slightly. He doesn’t say much, but his actions speak volumes. He’ll run his fingers through your hair, his touch surprisingly tender, and press soft kisses against your forehead.

“You did well, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Rest now. I’ll take care of everything.”

And he does. Because while Tom Riddle might be a lot of things—manipulative, calculating, and intense—when it comes to you, he’s nothing short of devoted.