Some people are just so strange, giving crazy threats to real people because they dislike the traits of a fictional character. Make that make sense. š¤Æ
Wow, this is really fucked up. I would suggest professional intervention, like therapy. Also, FYI, this is a literally criminally prosecutable comment, in every country.
I don't know how people can love a psychopath like vegas š
My first answer would actually be a question to you, what is defined as psychopathy?? Because by definition and medical terminology Vegas shows none, zero symptoms of Psychopathy. And by that I mean he is not at all a psychopath. He might have what, now I'm guessing is trauma and abuse induced symptoms of sociopathy which is different from exhibiting sociopathic symptoms from birth. Whatever he is exhibiting are coping mechanisms he has developed to shield himself from abuse by his father. He doesn't fit into any category of being a psychopath at all. In fact after the last episode I'm almost hundred percent certain he isn't even a sadist. He is just a service Dom in the BDSM lifestyle.
Vegas Peteās sex was āsupposedā to be hot, dirty, rough, with spit and slick, of loud moans and dirty talking, and filth and heavy breathing, which it was, but not entirely. There were just these Moments, interspaced, where it wasnāt just sex, it was making love, like really making love.
Pete handing the rope, while on his back, open, vulnerable, Vegas taking his bound hands and pressing a soft kiss, his eyes closed. Peteās eyes drinking in the deep desire he lit in Vegasā veins, the unasked trust he has placed in Vegas, honored and reciprocated in the gentlest of kisses. Itās palpable, how much pleasure and release they are giving and receiving; the hunger theyāve ignited, that only they can satiate. How much they are under each otherās skin, how further theyāve penetrated each other. No one else will do anymore, nothing else will ever even come close. This isnāt just lust, no way, there is attraction obviously, there is desire, unquenched desire, but there is something more. There is worship, and what Iāve always enjoyed in love scenes, absolute devotion to each otherās pleasure. To love earned and love shared.
But are they in love, probably not, not yet, at least.
They have something far more intimate, far deeper than just romance. Vegas and Pete, two men, only boys really, tucked away from the rest of the world, are studying, teaching, and learning each other like a religion. In their room, on their only bed, like a song said, in their private paradise and their war zone.
They've stripped each other bare, theyāve seen each other naked without masks and fake smiles, theyāve witnessed each other in pain and in sadness, in animalistic anger, and broken sobs. They've mourned death and promised unknowingly to not let go even in the next life. Theyāve shared hunger and laughter over silly books.
Pete has felt the heavy brunt of Vegasā hands break open his skin, leaving patterns like a broken weave. Has felt, the gentle caress of those same fingers, drawing the ends of white bandages across his chest. Felt them running through his hair, in the haze of a needy unknown want. And he has seen those fists, aimed at Vegasā own face, hitting away until Pete has forcefully pried them off.
And Vegas has felt for the first time another soul trying to understand the monster, and still trust the man underneath. The first time discerned that honesty is his destiny. Have felt the sheer ecstasy of earning someoneās care and faith so implicitly, without any machinations, any lies, any manipulations.
They are so inextricably bound to one another, that there is no way they couldāve done anything but make love. Truly make love. Trust is not even an issue between them, they know, although unsaid, and unspoken they are each others. Forever.
But is this a romance, not completely, not yet. But for certain it's a masterpiece.
Vegas hurting himself hit personally, but people are laughing about it? Idk what's funny about it, self harm is…
Wow, some people have no feelings at all, they shouldn't even be called people, in my opinion. Abuse, self harm, mental health are nothing to be laughed about.
Serious question is vegas a psychopath? Im curious but fr
No I don't think he is a psychopath, and as far as I can tell he has most symptoms of sociopathy. Most definitions of Psychopathy doesn't apply to him at all.
I know people are thirsty for him to go full sadist on Pete but me would find it cuter if he stays a soft service…
I don't think he can ever go full sadist on Pete, unless like Pete really asks for it and even then I feel Vegas is always gonna wait for his pleasure first...
Vegas is really a service Dom with best BDSM etiquette and softest partner who canonically takes the best care of his partner. Pete got the best man to worship him for his entire life.
In the place that feels the tears The place to lose your fears Yeah, reckless behavior A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw In the bed all day, bed all day, bed all day Fucking in and fighting on It's our paradise and it's our war zone It's our paradise and it's our war zone Pillow talk My enemy, my ally Prisoners Then we're free, it's a thin line
Pillow talk, Zayn.
I swear every song reminds me of Vegas Pete... Brain rot is real
1 
Pete handing the rope, while on his back, open, vulnerable, Vegas taking his bound hands and pressing a soft kiss, his eyes closed. Peteās eyes drinking in the deep desire he lit in Vegasā veins, the unasked trust he has placed in Vegas, honored and reciprocated in the gentlest of kisses. Itās palpable, how much pleasure and release they are giving and receiving; the hunger theyāve ignited, that only they can satiate. How much they are under each otherās skin, how further theyāve penetrated each other. No one else will do anymore, nothing else will ever even come close.
This isnāt just lust, no way, there is attraction obviously, there is desire, unquenched desire, but there is something more. There is worship, and what Iāve always enjoyed in love scenes, absolute devotion to each otherās pleasure. To love earned and love shared.
But are they in love, probably not, not yet, at least.
They have something far more intimate, far deeper than just romance. Vegas and Pete, two men, only boys really, tucked away from the rest of the world, are studying, teaching, and learning each other like a religion. In their room, on their only bed, like a song said, in their private paradise and their war zone.
They've stripped each other bare, theyāve seen each other naked without masks and fake smiles, theyāve witnessed each other in pain and in sadness, in animalistic anger, and broken sobs. They've mourned death and promised unknowingly to not let go even in the next life. Theyāve shared hunger and laughter over silly books.
Pete has felt the heavy brunt of Vegasā hands break open his skin, leaving patterns like a broken weave. Has felt, the gentle caress of those same fingers, drawing the ends of white bandages across his chest. Felt them running through his hair, in the haze of a needy unknown want. And he has seen those fists, aimed at Vegasā own face, hitting away until Pete has forcefully pried them off.
And Vegas has felt for the first time another soul trying to understand the monster, and still trust the man underneath. The first time discerned that honesty is his destiny. Have felt the sheer ecstasy of earning someoneās care and faith so implicitly, without any machinations, any lies, any manipulations.
They are so inextricably bound to one another, that there is no way they couldāve done anything but make love. Truly make love. Trust is not even an issue between them, they know, although unsaid, and unspoken they are each others. Forever.
But is this a romance, not completely, not yet. But for certain it's a masterpiece.
I love my softie Vegasš
The place to lose your fears
Yeah, reckless behavior
A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw
In the bed all day, bed all day, bed all day
Fucking in and fighting on
It's our paradise and it's our war zone
It's our paradise and it's our war zone
Pillow talk
My enemy, my ally
Prisoners
Then we're free, it's a thin line
Pillow talk, Zayn.
I swear every song reminds me of Vegas Pete... Brain rot is real