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thalwri · 7 months ago

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STICKY N' WET

synopsis: your agitating ex tries to disrupt your peace again, but he doesn't realise sylus is around. and neither of you realise that your working together to finally get rid of your ex would bring you much closer.

warnings: heavy smut, dry humping, strip tease, riding, creampies, shower sex, couch sex, petnames (kitten, sweetie, sweetheart), squirting, messy and very wet

wc: 5,6k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

“where are you off to, kitten?”

you turned on your heel, seconds away from fuming. “i told you to stop calling me that.”

there had been incessant knocking torturing your door to your apartment. somehow you’ve been letting sylus stay in your place for weeks on end while he occasionally disappeared to the n109 zone for his usual business.

between your tether to him being more intense than usual, and the recent events you’d been going through, you couldn’t tell whether you were grateful for his presence or felt more at peace when he wasn’t around for a brief time.

it had been five minutes. you wouldn’t really think that the knocking was bad but realistically if someone knocked at your door without a break and did it very loudly even without a response, then that would be concerning.

sylus found it irritating in the least, but had the tolerance to ignore it until the relentless fool disappeared on their own. he watched you walk to the door and look into the peep hole. your breath hitched as you stumbled back, covering your mouth with both hands before quickly dropping them to your sides.

“what is it?”

“my ex.” your voice dropped to a monotone line, your body still on the door in front of you. sylus groaned, pinching his brows but he had to admit he wasn’t surprised.

your break up wasn’t revolutionary and chaotic so to speak, but it wasn’t peaceful either. he had been there for you through the process, he didn’t even have to calm you down so he had thought you’d breeze through it and give him more of your attention.

until you started crying.

apparently, the fool had gotten with another woman just weeks after your split and that broke you. so two months following that, sylus had spent his hours of quality time with you helping you recover and move on all while plotting all the crude and illegal things he could do to that insect to avenge you.

he had thought to impale the guy with a fork, or peel off his skin with a carrot peeler, and make a stew out of him so that if anyone investigated, they’d eat the evidence. hannibal style. if he ever told you that, you would most likely be disgusted.

sylus rose to his feet in solemn silence and gently moved you away from the door. “i’ll handle it, kitten.”

“sylus–“

“i’ll handle it.” the depth his voice had lowered to was an instant indication that you could no longer try to interfere. whatever he was about to do, you could only pray it wasn’t going to get him arrested.

you turned away, pinching the corners of your eyes as the door opened for sylus to be greeted by yelling.

“what took you so long to answer– who are you?”

“the owner of this apartment. who in this bereft city are you?” well, being the owner, so to speak, was a lie. technically you owned it– but sylus began to actually live and function there more than you had in the last few months.

just looking at the bastard in person began to irk him. sylus wholeheartedly believed you could do far better than you had but he knew better than to lose his chances of being especially close to you by questioning your judgement. he was not interested in fighting you for your attention for he knew that you truly were drawn to him.

how could you not be attracted to each other especially after all you’ve gone through together?

sylus looked your ex up and down in disgust and scoffed out a laugh. “what are you doing here? this is the last time i’ll ask.”

“where is my girlfriend?” your ex grumbled, attempting to look over sylus’ body by standing on the tips of his toes. you intuitively stepped back before you stopped. would you really let this happen over and over again? being tormented like this?

not again.

“she’s not–“ sylus began to ball his hands into fists as he spoke before you held him to calm him down.

“it’s okay,” you gave him a grateful smile, patting his chest for him to step back. “i told you to stop calling and coming to my apartment.”

“i just wanted to talk–“

“you lost your chance, so do me a favour and screw yourself to another planet before i feed you to the fucking wanderers. we’re over. for a reason. and here’s no turning back from that. so leave.”

“but–“

“out.”

“no, i–“

the sound of a gun– your gun– cocked, you felt a tall figure looming over you oozing murderous energy. sylus aimed the gun directly at your ex’s head.

“you heard my woman,” he snarled, trying his best to hide his prideful smirk. you felt your ears warm. look at you, standing on your own feet against vermin-like that ex of yours. “get out.”

“who do you think you are?” your ex scoffed, sorely attempting to push out his chest to seem confident.

“he is my boyfriend,” you stepped forward, pushing your ex back by pointing your finger at him with each statement you make until he’s out of the doorway. “he is my man, he is what matters to me now, and you are nothing to me. so get out and stay out of my life before i kill you with my bare hands.”

and with that, you slam the door shut, locking the door quickly. you leaned against the door, catching empty air while your heart rate slowed down from the nerves. you heard sylus chuckle and put your gun down.

“that was impressive, sweetie.” you groaned in your hands, intentionally avoiding his gaze. you called him your boyfriend. your man. and he called you his woman. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find that nice to say, but still!

“look at me,” his voice, both soothing and arousing compelled you to listen to him. you removed your hands from your eyes and looked sylus in the eye.

“i suppose you’re satisfied.” you sighed in exhaustion, you felt so drained from talking to that ex of yours. a snack would be doing wonders at this time.

“i’m proud of you,” he smiled– a rarity from sylus but fully appreciated nonetheless. “standing your ground, defending your privacy, referring to me as your man–“

“you’re terrible,” you choked out a laugh, slapping his abdomen.

“i’m divine, kitten, and you know it.”

you weren’t going to deny that. especially after being trapped in his homestead, after getting to know him, along with seeing a great many parts of him. he was an attractive man, that was undeniable.

his wit, intelligence, and sense of control during missions and operations within onychinus and how he spends time with you are all things you’d grown to admire about him. you adored him and felt rather enamoured by the things he does. the things he does to you.

within the last month, you’d seen him in ways that you should have deemed inappropriate. watching exit the shower, water dripping down the lines of his abdomen and disappearing within the towel wrapped around his waist. with his grey lashes holding small droplets above his deliciously terrifying crimson eyes of his.

how his chest always looked larger every time you saw him, or how you’d intentionally bend down with your ass in the air when he was within your proximity. something at the time you thought as harmless. but now you’re standing before him and you felt a new wave of need.

whether it was from what he said or the fact that he was ready to kill for you, you didn’t know. but now you were feeling restless.

“sylus,”

he breathed out your name in response, almost as though he was holding in some pent in energy. you could feel energy swirling in your heart as you watched his eye twitch. the same eye that held his part of the aether core. were you resonating without touching each other?

“thank you,” you began, struggling to find your words. “for earlier.”

“anything for you, sweetie.” he stepped closer to you, making you tilt your neck slightly to meet his gaze. “including covering for your pretty ass whenever your missions went sideways because of that creature of an ex.”

you stifled a laugh through the noise of your aether tethered heart rapidly beating. watching his lips curve, purse, and move as he spoke, watching his eyes kind of lighten just from speaking with you… you just couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“you just can’t seem to take your eyes off me or stop thinking about me, can you kitten?” he smirked, placing his hand beneath your chin. “it would only be fair for me to admit i have had the same sentiment, but for much longer than i’d like to admit.”

“then do something about it,” you brashly whispered, feeling your patience wear thin. this was the closest chance you had at doing something with him without fear. “you’ve got your chance, so use it.”

“oh?” that irritating yet attractive chuckle filled the room other than whatever was playing on the tv. you could just feel your clit tingle from it. “is kitten baring her claws again?”

you gripped the collar of his dress shirt, harshly pulling him close to you– his lips less than a breath away from yours. “this kitten is baring her teeth, and telling sylus she wants him.”

that seemed to be the perfect buzzword. before you knew it, his lips had crashed into yours, his arms wrapped around your torso, and if you weren’t mistaken a short moan had escaped his lips. there was barely a moment for you to absorb the kiss, as you had already begun to peel each other’s clothing off from the jackets to the shirts and eventually the pants.

you pushed sylus onto the couch and straddled him, his hands held the back of your thighs pushing you up more towards him as your lips danced and tugged away in both passion and desire. he dropped you onto his lap, subtly introducing you to the growing bulge beneath you. it felt so big. you gasped as he began to grind against your clothed pussy, his hands reaching for your ass and tits to fondle and squeeze.

“i want you,” sylus whispered, momentarily stopping to lock his crimson eyes on yours in seriousness. “and i have you. do you want us to continue. we’ll stop if you aren’t ready.”

you smiled in gratitude for his concern for you. “i’m ready, sylus. i’m ready for you–” before you could finish your sentence, your lips are locked in a chaste kiss, your groins meeting each other through relentless grinds and your heavy sighs and soft whines competing with the television’s noise.

you wanted to truly show sylus how much you appreciated all that he has done for you in the past month so you slowly pulled yourself away, gently pushing him back when his lips followed and rose to your feet.

“stand up,” sylus rose without question, hiding his curiosity with a ‘hmph’. “take off your underwear.”

he raised an eyebrow, his ruby eyes glistened with excitement. “and what about you, kitten? don’t you think this is a little bit unfair?”

“i want to give you a show,” you tug at the hem of his black briefs, which had a wet spot marked around his erection. the more you looked at the shape of his cock, the more you realised just how big he was. you could feel both your mouth and pussy water at that sight alone.

“i think i’m the one entertaining you right now,” in a swift move, he pulled down his briefs and kicked them aside. his cock bounced free and stood so tall and proud, his tip was reddened and shining with leaky precum leaving a mess on his lower abdomen.

“don’t be shy,” he smirked, taking your hand in his and placing it on his cock. it was so warm and so hard, you couldn’t help yourself from stroking it. sylus closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh as you pumped his cock from the base to the tip stopping to circle your finger lightly over his slit.

“h-ha, kitten, that’s- oh,” you dragged your precum glistened finger down a large vein that travelled to the base then removed your hand. still in a slight daze from your touch, sylus didn’t hear what you said.

“i’m gonna give you a little show,” you boldly repeated, grabbing his face with a hand to give him a chaste kiss, swiping your tongue briefly across his lips before he could react. you stepped back to create some distance between the two of you to give him a bit of a sight to see.

sylus laughed and plopped himself back onto the couch, spreading his legs to give you constant access to his throbbing, twitching, leaky cock. his hand was wrapped around the shaft, slowly stroking it as translucent drops leaked from his tip. seeing him in his nude, blatant glory brought a flood of heat rush over your body and settle in your clit– which was rudely rubbing against the fabric of your underwear.

“don’t get cold feet now, sweetie,” sylus breathed, his chest beginning to heave and sweat. you’d barely gotten to do what you wanted.

“best you be patient.” you scoffed, unclasping your bra, slowly peeling the straps down each shoulder. you turned making your back face him and peeled off your bra and tossed it towards him.

sylus’ hands were long gone from his hard, throbbing cock to catch your bra. he set it on his thigh, resting on the couch arms spread wide intrigued to see what else you had in store for him. “continue, kitten. my patience is wearing thin.”

you slowly turned to face him again, saving your final reveal for much later. you swayed your way back to him and sat on his lap, carefully pressing his cock against his abdomen with your body. his breath hitched at the friction from your underwear rubbing against his sensitive flesh. his warm precum began to soak your panties, but not as much as your pussy was.

you held his cock against you and adjusted your positioning so that you could ride the length of him. going back and forth against him, the raw friction of fabric against sensitive skin sent sylus into a frenzy, gripping the sides of the couch as he watched you basically dry hump him when he should be deep inside you.

“kitten,” he gritted, holding back a guttural groan. you responded with a lascivious moan, almost vibrating from the stimulation from just dry riding his cock. sylus’ hands flew to your hips and lifted you up with just a fraction of his strength. his cock flew back and hit his abs with a soft plap!

“i’m growing impatient,” he lowly whispered, his eyes slowly darkening with desire and arousal. he was in no position to play along with you anymore. he was ready to fuck you good. “so i’m going to ask you again. are you ready for us to continue?”

you ferociously nodded, holding his face in your hands engulfing him in another kiss. you invited his tongue into your mouth to explore and savour you, occasionally greeting it with your own. as you felt yourself sinking into the kiss, you felt your pantie get moved aside before a long finger slid into you. you gasped momentarily before sylus caught your lips again, swallowing your eventual moan as his finger curled inside you.

“answer the question.”

“yes, sylus, i’m ready for you,” you panted. “i’m ready.”

and with that, sylus did not hold back further. his finger pumped into your wet pussy in slow rhythm before pushing a second in. your body trembled at the feeling, tensing as his fingers pumped deeper into you whilst curling to find that special area of yours.

“so wet,” he commented, pecking kisses along your neck. “soaking through your pretty underwear just for me. imagine how much harder i’m getting just from watching you.”

you didn’t even think it was possible for that to happen. a third finger slid in right as you were about to respond, pulling a deep moan out of you. being stretched out like this was not new, but with sylus it gave a more delicious sting.

“don’t squirm, sweetie,” he purred, curving all three digits in you again. “this is necessary if you want my cock to fit in well without hurting you.”

you couldn’t say much other than nod. getting so mindless over his fingers was worrying. what would his cock feel like?

sylus slowly removed his fingers, watching how your slick nectar connected to each one before slowly licking it off one of his fingers whilst locking his eyes on you. such an erotic tease. he rubbed his other– still slick– fingers on your lips, painting them in your wetness. you slowly opened your mouth and leaned your head forward to take his fingers in.

“fuck,” he whispered, feeling his cock twitch at the sight. he pushed his fingers in and out of your mouth, watching your tongue clean him up slipping and swirling around him. he just imagined what it would be like to fuck your pretty mouth until you were drooling with his cum.

“me,”

“what?”

“fuck me, sylus.” you gave him a look of determination and need. that was all he had to hear. a loud rriiiiiip snapped you out of your daze, and a light draft fanned at your ass.

“sylus!”

“hmm?” he smiled, pulling off your now shredded underwear from your body.

“that was my favourite set!” you pouted, even though you were heavily attracted to that move from him.

“you know i’ll get you new ones,” sylus scoffed, moving your hips to align your pussy with the tip of his cock. he knew you were on the pill. how? he accompanied you to get them and pestered you whenever you forgot. he adored you but he also cared immensely for your wellbeing.

“i love that you wore that set today,” he grinned looking up at you and pecked your nipples before gently suckling them for a few seconds. “love the red.” he paused, wanting to ask you once more for confirmation.

you nodded before he could ask. “i’m good and ready when you are– o-oh,”

his tip prodded at your entrance and was welcomed with slick warmth sucking him into you. he stopped half way in, slowly breathing to be accustomed to the feeling of your pussy clamping on his cockhead so tightly he almost came on the spot. you had let out a gasp at the feeling, clutching his shoulders with your nails.

“are you alright?” he asked. beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. you nodded. “let’s continue.”

slowly, you sank down onto him swallowing his cock, intentionally squeezing him to watch him squirm and moan from your tightness. you gently laughed, giving away your teasing which sylus quickly caught onto. he scoffed out a laugh and bucked his hips up to yours, ramming the rest of his cock into you with just a bit still outside.

you moaned from the instantaneous move, barely recovering from it when that evil grey haired man began to thrust into you, pulling his cock in and out gradually increasing his pace. your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you tried to follow his pace, riding him to meet his hips whenever he thrusted up into you.

“oh fuck, kitten your pussy is so tight,” he moaned, pushing deeper and harder into you. your eyes crossed feeling like he reached a spot you didn’t realise existed. “must have hit your g-spot, hm? oh, baby you feel so good around me”

you could barely respond, overwhelmed by the new wave of pleasure you were receiving. hearing his sexy noises while fucking his cock into you was bringing you faster to your climax than your vibrator ever had. and all so quickly too. but it seemed he was also drawing near to cumming too.

“just– ah, fuck– so tight!” he could barely swallow his whines as your hips meet faster and harder. “that tight pussy’s about to make me cum, kitten. g-gosh fuck me– you see what you do to me?”

rendered speechless, you could only nod. and it only took a few more thorough thrusts before you spasmed all over his cock, throwing your head back as you climaxed. just seconds after, a gush of hot, cum flowed into your pussy, making you so weak in the knees you couldn’t move. sylus fuck his cum into you, moaning your name.

despite that brief finish, you both knew you wanted more.

“again,” his voice rumbled in demand. you rasped your agreement, about to move when an idea came to your mind.

“sylus,”

“mm.”

“let’s go to the shower.”

he looked up at you with a raised brow. “you feel dirty already? kitten, we’ve barely started.”

“no, you crow,” you smacked his large chest in irritation. “i mean, let’s continue in the shower.”

sylus momentarily paused, blankly staring at you. you always wondered what went through his mind when he did that. in that instance, he rose to his feet carrying you while his cock was still lodged in your pussy. not only that, he was still alarmingly hard despite cumming already,

“you didn’t think i’d be done after such a small round, did you?” he grinned. “we’re just getting started.” you didn’t know whether to be afraid or dangerously aroused more than before.

you went through your bedroom to your bathroom, where sylus eventually set you to your feet. his cum began to slowly ooze out of you, travelling down your legs and painting them in the evidence of the mess that would have been made on your couch.

the bathroom began to steam slightly as the water ran. a large hand was held out for you– sylus offering it for you to join him. as you entered, your lips were immediately occupied with his, tied in a dance of need and insatiable greed that only the two of you could soothe for each other.

“you’re so perfect, sylus,” you sighed on his lips. “you’ve always been so great, such an amazing person in my life.” you kissed him again. “just want to show you how grateful i am for you.”

“you already have,” he pecked your cheeks. “just by being in my life.”

your kisses, gradually intensified as you touched each other, stimulating your needs before sylus gently moved you against the glass wall of the shower and picked you up hooking your legs over his shoulders and pressing your weight on the glass to keep you in place.

he gently lowered you back into him, instantly filling you up with his cock again. each time felt like it had gotten thicker. sylus regained proper footing on the wet tiles, slowly thrusting up into you before his pace quickened, going faster and harder until your pretty tits bounced from the sheer force of being fucked against the glass shower wall.

and that wasn’t near how fast he planned to plough your sweet pussy. he had so much more in store for you. so much he’d been waiting to do. control was no longer a word in his vocabulary.

“ooh, just– fuck– just– just like that sy– so good!” you hiccuped, gripping onto his hair with one hand and scratching his nape with the other.

through the fog, you could see your reflection, his back muscles flexing and shining in sweat along with the heat, his light grey hair flattened and drenched sticking to his flushed skin, his lips so tantalisingly close to your ear, huffing out praises and moans all while nibbling at your flesh.

“how are you still so tight, kitten?” he purred, pounding into you like his life depended on it. his hands tightly gripped your thighs indenting marks onto them, another sign of him marking his territory. “gonna fuck you so deep ‘n paint you with my cum.”

thrust after thrust his cock travelled deeper and deeper into you than it had earlier, pounding your weeping cunt so much that the squelches from a mixture your slick wetness and his cum became louder than the sound of your shower. sylus slowly pulled his cock back until his cockhead peeked out then slammed himself back up into you, finding that carnal spot of yours again. your eyes instantly crossed upon the impact, ripping a raw cry from deep within your throat.

“you sound like music,” he groaned, you could feel him smiling against your neck as he licked and suckled multiple rude, disrespectful bruises onto your skin. marking you as his and his alone for all of linkon and the n109 to see. “beautiful melody for just me to hear, sweetie.” he drew back and pulled out of you slowly and thrust clean into you once more before setting you down to the floor.

you wasted no time grabbing his shoulders and pulled him into a lustful, needy kiss, engulfing him in your adoration and enticement. he occasionally nipped your lower lip, groaning at the feeling of your hand creeping down his abdomen to stroke his neglected, twitching cock. it was drenched and leaking with precum again, as if there would never be an end to how much he could stuff you and cover you with it. the warm water pelted your skin, making you hotter and more breathless as the seconds went by.

“i’m going to give you everything you could ever want in this life,” he struggled to say whilst attempting to hold back the noises boiling deep in his chest. “my life, my heart, and my soul is yours, sweetheart.”

within an instant, you found your front pressed against the glass with your hands held behind your back. his lips grazed you ear, whispering his need for you as his warm cock circled your entrance, sliding up and down from the curve of your ass to his tip poking your aching clit.

“sylus,” you shivered, leaning back to rest on him before you lost balance– or even consciousness. you couldn’t tell how long you had been going on for anymore, and frankly you couldn’t care less. the tether between the two of you had wrapped so strongly that you couldn’t spend a second not being on each other.

“yes?” his hand gently tapped your chin so you could turn your face to him. he pecked the corner of your lip and rammed himself back into you without warning, forcing out a loud moan through your lips. those rough, and crude thrusts pounded through your tight, needy cunt, which was squeezing around his girth as much as possible. body pressed against the glass, the reflection of your fucked out face with sylus dazed and so drunk in your pussy made you clench harder.

“fuck, my– fuck,” his hips began to stutter and his cock throbbed in warning. the shower wall began to shake from the continuous impact of your bodies slamming together, clapping and squelching as if you just couldn’t be any closer. “if you squeeze again– oh, kitten, i’m going to fill you to the brim.”

he sunk his teeth deep into your flesh sending jolts of new pleasure down your spine, making you both moaning messes. his hands travelled around your body until his dominant hand settled on your abandoned clit to rub and swirl, and the other attacking your nipples– fondling and pinching them with greed to force out your most animalistic nature. your back arched helping you buck yourself into his hips, wanting to feel so much more of him, even though he had already abused your g-spot so much.

you sobbed and whined, singing praises to sylus for what he was doing to get you so horny for him. “keep fucking me like that, sy- fuck, please!” your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to hold onto him to stop yourself from collapsing. if it wasn’t his cock poking your cervix at this point, it was a sign that you were reaching your limit. “give me– can’t think– give it to me!”

neither of you could think that much, really. with you being so hypnotised and enamoured by his huge cock while he drowned and was drunk in your pussy, there wasn’t much to question. you both had a synonymous goal.

“gonna give it to you, kitten,” sylus seethed while licking your skin in ferocious lust, all he wanted and needed was to feel and taste you so he would do just that.

he felt so good inside your delectable pussy, loved how you tightened around him. he wanted to just cum on the spot, over and over and fuck you in every nook and cranny of your apartment then in each and every one of the properties he owned. he didn’t want to stop until every room you two entered was left smelling of cum and sex. who would he be to not desire such pleasure with someone as beautiful, powerful, and sexy as you?

“look at us, sweetie,” he huffed, momentarily stopping to push his cock as deeply into you as possible, completely bottoming out inside of you until all that would be seen was his balls flush against your pussy. he took long, deep, malicious strokes into you, the glass wall threatening to topple over. “look at yourself while i fuck you good, while i stuff my cock right into you.”

your eyes landed on your reflection but you couldn’t help yourself from watching him reduce you to slutty putty. making you feel like such a needy slut for his cock and his hot, thick cum.

“so pretty,” he moaned, throwing his head back. he could feel his orgasm nearing, his body was beginning to falter. “so definitely mine.”

the perverted reflection of you fucking yourself on his cock while he simultaneously bucked into you had taken you over the edge. your eyes rolled back and your jaws loosened as your body stilled. you let out a hoarse cry as you unfolded, tightly gripping onto him as you became undone, cumming around his cock, your walls squeezing and fluttering around him causing a wave of cum to fill you alongside his thrusts.

you were so full already that his cum leaked out your pussy in spurts, dripping down your legs and hitting the walls. another wave washed over you, and you could feel so much spurting out of you, spraying the wall and dripping down your bodies. you paused, still feeling sylus rutting his cum into you from behind.

you squirted. and he had quickly realised it too, from how his pace quickened again. you had felt his cock grow much harder even though he already came.

“fuck, you made such a mess kitten, wanna make you do it again,” he panted, pinching his eyes shut. “gonna fuck you so good, you squirt over and over.”

you still couldn’t understand how he got so hard so quickly but your pussy wasn’t done being fucked just yet. he quickly pulled himself out, his cock slapping against his abdomen still spurting out thick globs of cum. he raised one of your legs over his shoulder and bottomed out deep into you again, with a whole new angle. you both groaned at the feeling, your pussy being stretched by the curve of his depth, creaming and fluttering on it before he could thoroughly fuck you again.

he didn’t waste another second viciously stimulating your clit with his fingers while his cock aggressively drove into you, slapping your skin against his in a quickened rhythm. it didn’t take much before your poor, soaked cunt squeezed you into another orgasm, creaming a white ring around his base. you screamed, feeling a rush of pleasure force out an intense round of your nectar going everywhere onto your abdomen and his, ultimately making you squirt for the second time tonight.

you felt another gush of cum stuff your pussy as a whimper left sylus’ lips. you couldn’t help but love the fact that he got off just from you squirting. and that got you so much hornier, so needy to do more. but you doubted if your body was capable of handling that. you felt his cock slowly soften as you came down from your highs. he muttered something about wanting to stay inside you a bit longer, and you allowed it, also not wanting to be separated from him being in you just yet. maybe it was the aether cores keeping you attached.

moments passed as you both recovered from your orgasms, resting on each other, whispering praises, and kissed each other in dazed exhaustion. the running water rinsed away most of the cum and slick from your bodies, leaving the rest to be cleaned off once you were both ready.

“that was beautiful,” you murmured as you pulled away from his lips. sylus rested his forehead on yours, still trying to regain his breath. he reached to make the water slightly colder.

“you did so well,” he smiled. “i’m glad i was patient.”

as you began to clean each other up, as exhausted as you were, you felt satisfied. and at peace. sylus was a good ally and companion of yours but from the way things are looking now, you’re more than happy to take things much further.

a/n: I literally started playing lads a few days ago and OMG LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ITS SOO GOOD

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads sylus #sylus qin #lnds sylus #sylus smut #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace smut #qin che #l&ds sylus #lnds #✧.* thalwri works

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mggslover · 9 months ago

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Unrequited love

In which reader has been haunted all her life by the ghost of unrequited love, always reminding her of everything she could never have. That is — until she met Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst x fluff x smut (18+) Content warnings: spoilers for s8e12, very angsty but no worries there's a happy ending Word count: 5,4k A/n: for anyone who can relate to not having their love reciprocated, I'm hoping you'll find your spencer reid soon

It’s stupid, really, to love someone so wholeheartedly. It’s even more stupid to expect them to love you back.

Never in your life had anyone reciprocated your love — hell, no one had even accepted it. Unrequited love was a burden that has clung to you all your life, a thread of rejection woven through the fabric of your earliest memories.

You remember the moment clearly, when as a little girl you found your mother hunched over the dining room table, furiously wiping away tears she did not want you to see. You watched from afar, making sure she left the room when you tiptoed to the table, finding a piece of paper ripped out of a notebook. Your small finger traced the letters of the handwritten note. The words were jagged, some unfamiliar, making you skip them. You experienced a rush of pride and excitement when you could make out some words: leaving, sorry, woman, goodbye. It was the first time you’d read something that wasn’t written in the large colorful books Miss Abigail assigned in school. It wasn’t until a few days later, when your mother explained that your father wasn’t coming back, that the weight of the note fully sank in. From that moment on it felt like your fate was sealed.

In middle school you had some friends, but when the moment came to pairing up for school trips, it was you being the one left out. You always had someone you would call your best friend, but you’d never be theirs. Someone always seemed to be better, more lovable, more wanted.

In highschool, you got your first boyfriend, Timmy. You weren’t sure you loved him, but you wanted to be seen, to be noticed. So when he asked you out, you said yes. For a while, you reveled in the feeling of someone showing you off. That was until the day you overheard his friends, talking by the lockers.

“I swear, his tactic is working!” one of them said. “Jessica dumped James the second she saw Timmy walking hand in hand with Y/N through the hallways.”

“Oh shit, man,” another friend laughed. “If I knew that, I also would’ve used a fake girlfriend to get to Hannah.”

A fake girlfriend. The words echoed in your mind as you started to make sense of the situation. It suddenly clicked how Timmy only showed you off in public, only kissed you in the busy hallways, where people could see. It was never about you.

You decided to give love one more chance in university, but when a night that was supposed to be the first of many, ended in a one-night-stand and a “I’m sorry, but I don’t really see you that way”, you made yourself a vow: no more chasing love. You stopped giving your love to people who would never truly appreciate it, and instead, you gave that love to yourself. The library became your refuge, spending endless hours studying to give yourself the future you deserve. You passed your exams with flying colors and never forgot to reward yourself after every small victory. And when you landed a position at the BAU, making it as an FBI agent, you knew you made the right decision to never fall in love again. That was until you stepped into the office, and you saw him. Spencer Reid.

—

“And this is doctor Spencer Reid,” your boss Hotchner introduced him with a nod.

He was tall, awkward in the way only someone who was brilliant could be, but he smiled warmly as he waved a hand at you. “Hi.”

You smiled back and stuck out your hand instinctively. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

He blinked at the gesture, looking uncomfortable. He swallowed, his voice uncertain. “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t like shaking hands.”

You tilted your head and laughed. “That’s totally fair. Do you know how many germs your hands carry?”

His eyes widened in surprise, as if no one had ever said that before. “I-I actually do! The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to-”

“Kiss?” you interrupted, a grin spreading across your face.

The words came out simultaneously, and you both laughed. A sound that felt... easy. Like something you hadn’t experienced before.

Someone you would later come to know as Morgan, who had been leaning against a desk, looked up at the two of you, eyebrows raised in disbelief as he shook his head.

It was then you realized — there was something special about Spencer Reid. It was something unspoken, something more than just the intellectual connection. Before you even knew it, you had fallen in love.

—

You never confessed your feelings to Spencer, but you felt like there was an unspoken understanding between you. Every morning, you arrived at work with an oversweetened cup of coffee for him, and in return, he made sure you never went without your favorite sandwich from the shop around the corner, especially on days when you were too absorbed in a case to remember to eat. On your days off, you took each other on trips. Sometimes to a museum where you would explain the art in great detail, and he would pretend not to know any of the facts, just to hear you talk. Other times, you’d go to a movie screening, where he would simultaneously whisper translations of the foreign dialogue to you, making you giggle when his breath tickled your ear. You convinced yourself that this was what love was: understanding someone to the point of not needing words.

But how foolish were you to have forgotten about the shadow that lingered behind you, always ready to remind you of everything you could never have.

—

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N! Have you heard the news?” Penelope squealed in delight as she rushed toward you, the rhythmic click of her heels making a melody against the office floor.

You glanced up from your desk, raising an eyebrow. “Based on the excitement, I’m going to assume you're not talking about the wildfires in California.”

“Oh no, no,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m talking about big news. The juicy kind.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair as you sipped your tea. “Alright Pen, bring it on.”

Penelope’s grin widened. “Spencer has a girlfriend!” She yelped, hands flying to her mouth as she realized just how loud she’s gotten.

You blink as you try to process her words. “He finally adopted a cat?”

Penelope shook her head vigorously. “Y/N, I mean a real girlfriend. An actual human being girlfriend!”

You scrunch your forehead, the words not quite connecting. “I don’t think I understand.”

Penelope leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Derek told me that Blake told him that Spencer’s been making calls... to a woman.” She glances around quickly, making sure no one can overhear.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your smile drops at the familiarity of the situation. Spencer had been leaving the bullpen often recently. You’d always assumed it was because he was still struggling with his headaches and didn’t want the team to get worried. Not in a million years would you have expected Spencer was seeing someone.

Penelope continues speaking, but her words fade into the background as your thoughts spiral. “Excuse me,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you push yourself out of your chair and rush to the bathroom.

Once inside, you lock the door behind you. Your chest tightens, the familiar weight of a panic attack settling in as if it had never left. Your breath comes short and shallow, the room spinning slightly as you grip the sink. The air feels thick, suffocating even. For the first time in years you find yourself back in this situation, fighting to breathe.

—

After a while, the whispers and giggles about Reid's love affair had died down. Still, it took Spencer some time to feel comfortable enough to share more about her — Maeve Donovan, the brilliant, lovely woman who had stolen his heart. Being his best friend, it was you who he turned to. The one who had to endure all the little details of their intimate phone calls.

And you tried, you really did. You tried to be the supportive friend, even when each word about Maeve felt like a thorn twisting in your chest. You’d joke, asking him if he was sure Maeve wasn’t some sixty-year-old man catfishing him, or teasing him about how it didn’t count as a relationship if you’d never actually met the person. The snark was the only way you could cope with the sinking feeling every time he smiled when her name came up, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of her. But Spencer was oblivious to your remarks. No matter how hard you tried to plant seeds of doubt in his mind, it never seemed to have any effect.

It was a sad thing to admit, but on nights when anxiety kept you awake, you couldn’t help but wish for their relationship to end. You prayed for a chance to tell Spencer how you really felt. You convinced yourself there would be time, that everything was going well, and eventually you’d find the courage to speak up. But on nights like these, you deeply regret never having thought of the possibility of another girl realizing how incredible Spencer is, and making a move before you ever could.

Those feelings of jealousy turned into big regret, when Spencer came bursting into the bullpen, panic and fear evident in his eyes. He was frantic, certain that Maeve had been kidnapped. His suspicions turned out to be tragically true, and your world crumbled the moment the gunshot rang out, taking Maeve from him. Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as Spencer broke down in front of you, and you couldn’t even reach out to comfort him, believing it was you who caused this. That the ghost you knew as unrequited love, finally gave you what you wished for.

You wanted to scream, to turn back time, to take back every selfish thought. But now wasn’t the time for regret. When Spencer locked himself in his apartment, unwilling to speak to anyone, you made it your mission to be there for him. You were the only person he let in, and when the door creaked open, you were struck by the sight of him — pale, hollow-eyed, and worn down in a way you’d never seen before. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace. The two of you cried together, until his neighbor shouted at you both for the noise. From that moment on, you’d take Spencer to your apartment. Making sure he had a warm, homemade meal waiting for him as you’d binge Doctor Who episodes, trying to get him to smile even just a little. Slowly, he began to open up, the weight of his grief pouring out in quiet conversations. And you made sure you listened to every word as you held him close, offering whatever comfort you could.

As the weeks passed by, the weight of the situation was becoming overwhelming. It wasn’t easy hearing the love of your life talk about another woman. The way he spoke about her, like she meant more to him after just a couple of months than you ever did in all the years you stood by his side. It was almost too much to bear. When you overheard a moment between Reid and JJ, where Spencer mentioned how he would’ve had kids if it weren’t for Maeve dying, you realized you couldn’t keep going like this. You needed time to process what you were feeling, to grieve what you’d lost — even if it wasn’t really yours to begin with. So, you called in sick for the next case. Hoping you could clear your mind, while the team was out of state.

—

So here you were, experiencing heartbreak like all those times before — rotting on the couch with a pint of ice cream as you watched reruns of Love Island.

You jumped when a loud banging echoed from the front door. Your surprise faded as quickly as it came, knowing there was only one person that would bother you this late an hour.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up!” Spencer’s voice rang out, firm and insistent.

With a sigh, you shuffled to the front door, trying to steady yourself before facing him. The moment you opened the door, you were met with Spencer, brows furrowed in concern and annoyance.

“Where were you? You didn’t show up on the jet, and you’re never late,” he said, brushing past you to step inside.

“Sure, let yourself in,” you muttered under your breath, closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t feeling well, had a headache,” you replied, keeping your tone casual.

Spencer paused, taking a quick glance around the room. His eyes landed on the TV blaring in the background and the half-empty pint of ice cream on the coffee table. He turned back to you, eyebrows raised.

“Your TV is on full blast, and you’re eating ice cream,” he said, his tone skeptical, clearly aware of your lie.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, I just needed a break.”

“A break?” He scoffed. “You never take breaks. We practically had to force you to stay home when you got shot. You’re always there, no matter what. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

As much as you appreciated hearing that he needed you, this wasn’t the time to feel flattered by it. “Spencer, I know,” you started, your voice taut with frustration. “I just had my own things to worry about.”

“What things?” He stepped closer, his tone rising. “What could be more important than your work? Then being there for a friend when he needs you?” It was obvious how upset he was.

“I was worried about you,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I called you every day, and you didn’t pick up.”

His words hit harder than you expected, and a bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it. “What about me, Spencer?” you snapped. “Have you ever thought about me needing a break? Or am I not important enough for that?”

“Oh, please.” His voice dripped with disbelief. “You’ve always been there for me, but suddenly you can’t pick up your phone because you need time for yourself?”

“God, you’re such an ass,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Me? I’m the ass?” His voice pitched higher, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Yes, Spencer! I told you I wasn’t feeling well. I needed time off.”

“You could’ve just picked up the damn phone!” he yelled. “Do you even realize how worried I was?”

“It sounds like you were more worried about yourself than me,” you countered in an icy tone.

His face twisted in frustration, but then his shoulders sagged. “Is that what you think? I was worried about you. Can you even imagine what it was like for me to call and get no answer?”

You swallowed. For a split second your mind drifted to Maeve, thinking that he might’ve felt the same fear as when she didn’t pick up the phone. You quickly put the thought away, he didn’t care about you like that.

“If you’d just asked Hotch, you would’ve gotten an answer right away,” you responded, crossing your arms in defense.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, so Hotch knew?”

“Of course, Spencer. He’s my boss!”

“And I am your friend! I always tell you everything before I let anyone else know.”

You rolled your eyes, frustration taking over. “Well, that’s on you. Just because you feel the need to bother everyone with your problems doesn’t mean I have to do the same.”

The instant regret was written all over your face as the words left your mouth. Spencer’s expression shifted, looking completely stunned.

“Spencer, I didn’t mean-”

But the damage was done. His shoulders stiffened and his jaw tightening before looking away.

“Please, Spence, I swear I didn’t mean it like that,” your voice trembled as you reached out to him, but he instinctively took a step back.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry,” you pleaded. “I don’t know why I said that.”

He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Oh, but you said it. And you meant it.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow it felt heavier. The anger in his eyes had faded, replaced with something worse: disappointment.

“Spencer,” you whispered, the sound barely audible. You were terrified to say anything else that could upset him.

He gaze fell down, before he looked back up at you. His expression had softened slightly, though the hurt still lingered in his eyes. “Do you really think I bother people with my problems?”

“No!” you replied in a desperate cry. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t think that at all. I’m so glad you opened up to me and trusted me with your feelings.”

“And yet…” he trailed off, rubbing his temples in frustration. “You ignored my calls. You avoided me. And then you said that. Jesus.” His hands fell to his sides as he let out a tired sigh, exhaustion etched into every feature.

“Spencer,” you started, but he interrupted. “I don’t understand,” he said, looking at you like he was searching for answers he couldn’t find. “If you’re glad I talk to you about my feelings, why did you shut me out?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question bearing down on you. “It’s just… a lot to handle, Spence,” you admitted. “I’m not a therapist. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. I want to be there for you, I really do, but it takes a toll on me too.”

“It takes a toll on you too?” His voice rose, and you cursed yourself for triggering another outburst without meaning to. “I’m the one with ‘the problem’. I’m the one with the dead girlfriend! All you had to do was be there for me when I needed you.”

You exhaled heavily. “I’m getting a drink,” you muttered as you made your way over to the kitchen. Spencer followed behind you, not willing to give up yet.

“Of course,” Spencer said, with a sarcastic edge. “Grab a drink. That’ll fix everything.”

Ignoring him, you grabbed a glass and poured a generous amount of whiskey. You raised it to your lips, savoring the burn as you swallowed.

He crossed his arms, watching you with a raised eyebrow. “You know what? Go ahead. Keep ignoring the problem. That’s what you’re good at, right? Avoiding things.”

Your hand trembled slightly as you set the glass down. “I know you don’t believe me,” you said, your voice shaking, “but I am trying.”

“Trying?” Spencer’s laugh was humorless. “You didn’t even call me. You just disappeared. I needed you, and you left. What kind of ‘trying’ is that?”

“God, Spencer, I didn’t want to avoid you. I wanted to pick up the phone, to explain everything, but I couldn’t. I knew I’d just hurt you more, and I couldn’t-” Your voice broke against your will. “I couldn’t risk ruining all the progress you’ve made.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his furrowed brow easing as confusion replaced his anger. “You’re not protecting me by keeping whatever it is that’s bothering you to yourself. You’re hurting me even more by shutting me out. I want to be able to help you when you’re struggling, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened. You bit your lip in an effort to stop the tears and confessions from spilling out.

He gently cupped your hands in his. “Please,” he whispered. “Let me in. Let me help you like you’ve helped me.”

Your chest ached as you stared into his glistening eyes. How could you possibly tell him? How could you burden him with the truth when he was already carrying so much? But the way he looked at you, so desperate — it broke something inside you.

The words escaped before you could stop them. “I’m in love with you.”

It felt like the world had stopped. Spencer stood completely frozen, his heart skipping multiple beats. Then he loosened his grip on your hand, and you immediately regretted speaking up.

“You.. you’re in love with me?”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, guilt twisting in your chest.

He stared at you in silence, his gaze unreadable as he processed your words. After a long pause, he spoke up. “You’re sorry?”

At this point, tears were streaming down your cheeks. “I’m an awful friend.”

“No, no, no,” Spencer said quickly, stepping closer. His heart ached as he reached up to gently cup your face, brushing away your tears with his thumbs. He hated to see you cry. “You are not an awful friend — you’re wonderful.”

“Don’t say that,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not wonderful, Spencer. I listened to you grieve every night, and still I felt jealous because she got your love, even if it was just for a second.”

His eyes widened. “Jealous?” he asked softly. “You were jealous of Maeve?”

You cringed at his words, shame tightening your chest. “I know, it’s disgusting. I get it if you never want to see me again.”

“Is that what you think? That I’d stop wanting to see you?” He shook his head. “How can you think I’d judge you for having feelings for me?”

“Because I blame myself, Spencer!” you cried. “I should’ve been happy for you, but I wasn’t. And now she’s gone, and I feel like it’s my fault.”

He closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into a tight embrace. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of that. You didn’t make any of those things happen,” he reassured. “They were just… they were just an unfortunate turn of events. You didn’t have any control over it.” He held you tightly against him, trying to comfort you as his heart ached.

“You shouldn’t touch me,” you sniffled, but you weren’t able to pull yourself away, needing his touch.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. “I should touch you,” he said firmly. “I should hold you, and comfort you, and be there for you. Because that’s what friends do. That’s what I want to do.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice quivering with emotion. “I did feel jealous, but please, don’t think for a second that I didn’t care. I’d do anything to bring her back.”

“I know you care,” he murmured into your hair. “I know you do. That’s why I could never think of you as a bad friend.”

You cried against his chest, as the weight of all these months finally came crashing down. His arms tightened around you, grounding you. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

You shook your head. “You shouldn’t be the one comforting me.”

“Yes, I should,” he said. His arms didn’t loosen, holding you as if he feared you’d vanish if he let go. “Your feelings matter. Your happiness matters. I don’t want you putting yourself aside for my sake.”

Something in his tone gave you the courage to lift your gaze. His eyes searched for yours, and they were filled with an emotion you hadn’t dared dreaming of. Carefully, he reached his hand out, his thumb brushing against your tear-streaked cheek with a gentleness that made your chest ache.

“I mean it,” he firmly repeated. “You matter to me, more than you probably realize.”

It was out of instinct that you leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand calming you down.“You can still talk to me,” you said quietly. “I just… I needed a break. But we can still have our talks.”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I know. And I’ll take you up on that.”

His hand remained on your face as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “I care about you. I always have, and I always will.”

The proximity was impossible to ignore as his thumb traced slow, soft circles on your cheek, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice quiet and pained, “for not realizing sooner how you felt about me.”

“It’s fine, Spence,” you replied with a shrug. “I should’ve been more obvious.”

A quiet sigh escaped his lips, his heart heavy with remorse. “You were, I should’ve known. Penelope and JJ never treated me the way you did.” He admitted. “I wasted so much time. I could have had you, but I was too blind to see it.”

“You… you would want to be with me?” you asked, surprise noticeable in your voice.

His expression filled with disbelief. “Of course I would. How could I not? You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re caring, you’re beautiful...” His voice dropped to a tender hum. “You’re everything.”

You looked away, as doubt crept in. “You’re just confused,” you said. “I gave you a lot to process all at once.”

“I’m not confused,” he said steadily, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not about this. I know how I feel. I know that it’s you that I want.”

Your heart ached at how convincing he sounded, but you couldn’t stop your uncertainty. “You’re not over her, Spence.”

The mention of Maeve made him swallow, his gaze flicked downward for a moment. “I know,” he said quietly, as he looked up at you. “I know I’m not completely over her. I may never be. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “It doesn’t feel fair,” you admitted. “I’ve wanted you for so long. It doesn’t feel fair that I get to have you now.”

Spencer gently urged you closer. The simple comfort of holding you in his arms felt overwhelming. “You deserve everything, Y/N. You’ve been here for me from the start. You’re one of the most selfless, most loyal, most caring people I know.”

The warmth in his gaze, the tenderness in his touch, made it impossible to look away.

“I need you,” he said, his voice a raw confession. “Not talking to you these past days was torture. I can’t do this without you. I need you in my life, Y/N. Not just as a friend.” He paused, his next words coming out in a whisper. “You deserve to be loved, please let me be the one to do that.”

You felt your breath catch. No word in the dictionary could describe the way you were feeling. “Can I kiss you?”

His lips parted in surprise, before his eyes flashed with emotion. “Yes. Please.”

His hands cupped your face, before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was everything — raw, urgent, and filled with years of unspoken longing. A desperate whimper escaped your throat, conveying the need you’d kept bottled up all this time. Spencer seemed to feel it too, deepening the kiss as his fingers threaded into your hair, afraid you might slip away.

He effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his body fitting perfectly between your legs as you wrapped them tightly around his waist. The closeness wasn’t enough to satisfy your need. Your fingers found his tie, fumbling to loosen it before letting it fall to the floor.

They continued their path to the buttons of his shirt. Spencer groaned softly against your lips, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. Your palms met his bare skin, causing his grip on your hips yo tighten. The air around you grew hotter, as every inch of his body seemed to react to your touch.

“God, Y/N…” he roughly murmured. His forehead rested briefly against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. But his hands never stopped, sliding down your sides and pulling you even closer.

You continued your exploration, your fingertips tracing the planes of his chest and shoulders as if trying to memorize him.

You’d always imagined taking your time when this moment finally came — savoring every touch, every kiss. But now that it was happening, you couldn’t stop the rush coursing through you. The need to feel him everywhere, to prove that this was real.

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered against his mouth, your voice filled with desperation.

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmured, knowing exactly what you needed. His hands slid down to your thighs, gently parting them to make room for himself. His touches made you desperate for more, and you let out a quiet cry of relief as his fingers moved to his belt, the soft clink of the buckle filling the air.

You didn’t want to waste any time, tugging your pants down your legs in a frenzy, eager to meet him halfway. Spencer’s gaze flickered to yours, his eyes dark with need, and in an instant, his mouth was on yours again.

His kiss was hungry, all consuming. One hand grasped your waist, holding himself steady, while he used the other to hook beneath your leg, lifting it effortlessly to pull you in even closer.

You threw your head back as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your wet folds. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he slowly pushed into you, the stretch intoxicating. Your fingers gripped his back as you sunk your nails into his skin.

The sharp bite of pain drew a low, guttural groan from him, his face buried in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot against you as he murmured your name like a prayer.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you gasped, as he began to move, his hips rolling into yours.

His breath hitched at your words, and he pressed a soft kiss to your jawline. “I know, baby,” he mumbled. “We’ll make up for it,”

A soft giggle escaped you, but it was quickly swallowed by a moan as his pace quickened.

“Oh, Spence… I’m already close,” you confessed, never having reached an orgasm this fast.

“Thank God,” he groaned, his voice rough with desperation, as his grip on your hips tightened. He guided you to meet his thrusts, the intensity of his movements growing erratic, overwhelmed by pleasure.

Unable to resist, you cupped his face, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss as you moaned and gasped for breath.

Your walls clenched around him, drawing a string of delicate moans from your lips as your head fell back. Spencer took full advantage of your exposed neck, sucking and biting on the skin, claiming you. His thrusts grew deeper. He was determined to hit the spot that he knew would make you cry out in pleasure.

Spencer’s low, breathy groans filled the air, and you could tell he was close. Your legs began to shake around him, and as if perfectly in sync, your release crashed over you at the same time that he shuddered and spilled into you.

“I love you,” you gasped, the words leaving your lips over and over as your orgasm rushed through you. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. You couldn’t tell if it was the sheer intensity of the feeling or the flood of emotions you’d been bottling up for so long, but what you did know is that you meant every word.

Spencer stayed close, his breaths uneven as he gently rocked into you, drawing out the shared high. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to brush your hair out of your tear-streaked face. His eyes locked onto yours, and it felt like he truly saw you — every part of you.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you too.”

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sugardollyxoxo · 2 months ago

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Dolly's guide to a bimbolicious summer pt 2

pt 1

Appearance

Pale pink lip gloss, fluffy curls, bombshell bras, pink mini skirts, dolly lashes, body glitter. Being a bimbo is about expressing your inner femininity that society has tried to suppress and shame for far too long. Reject conformity & embracing individuality.

Define your persona- Who is she, really? What’s her color palette? soft pastels or chic neutrals. Is she a sultry video vixen or a sweet dolly princess? Who are her icons? What does a day in her life look like, from how she gets ready to what she wears when she runs errands or lounges at home?

Closet clean out- Put on your favorite playlist, light a candle, and set the mood. When I'm cleaning out my closet I like to imagine it as one of those makeover montages from those 2000s movies.

The easiest part is getting rid of anything you truly dislike. Old baggy tees, cargo pants you never wear, sneakers you don’t love, your brother’s hand me downs Let. Them. Go.

And I know we all have that pair of jeans or sweater with sentimental value that we just can’t let go. That's okay! fold it up and tuck it away in a keepsake box. Out of sight, out of your new aesthetic.

When I’m deciding on what to keep, I like to ask myself:

Does this have potential?

Can I crop it, accessorize it, or layer it?

Does it match anything on my Pinterest board?

I always keep plenty of basics, they can be zhuzhed up later or personally, I like to wear them on gym days or on low effort days when I still want to look cute without doing too much.

Shopping smart- This is the fun part, but also where it’s super easy to fumble. Do not impulse buy the first cute thing you see, or you’ll end up with a piece that’s impossible to style with anything else in your closet.

Keep your Pinterest board open while you shop and make a list of your essentials. Stick to a clear color theme that matches your new vibe, this helps keep your wardrobe cohesive and makes styling way easier.

Now, when it comes to actually shopping I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE thrifting. It’s not only sustainable and budget-friendly, but it makes your aesthetic more authentic.

Let's be real, so many of our fav Y2K brands are now shadows of their former selves and websites like Depop, Poshmark, and Whatnot have so many of those vintage pieces for reasonable prices. If you’re lucky enough to have local thrift stores go! You never know what gems you’ll find between worn denim and random graphic tees. That perfect low-rise mini or baby tee might be waiting for you on a $3 rack.

REMEMBER Your closet becomes an authentic version of you, not just a copy-paste of what’s trending so shop with intent.

Dolly maintenance- Think of yourself as your own personal doll. You would never want your favorite doll to have messy hair, chipped nails, or dull skin right? So treat yourself with the same love and care.

In addition to your daily routines, make time for weekly or monthly beauty appointments. Whether that’s getting your nails done, refreshing your hair, or getting a wax. These rituals keep your inner doll glowing.

Also, make room for spa days at home. Put on a cute robe, light a candle, and pamper yourself with a hydrating sheet face mask, exfoliation, hair treatments, and body oils. Being high maintenance isn’t a flaw. It’s a lifestyle 🤏🏽 🤏🏽 🤏🏽

Posture- Your posture is one of the first things people notice, it silently communicates who you are before you even speak. Slouching expresses shyness & insecurity. Standing tall and open radiates confidence and power. Even the most plain outfit can be elevated simply by the way you sit and walk.

Think of yourself as honey: slow, and intentional. You are not a stick !!! Shoulders back, chin up, and sway those hips. Your posture is not about perfection it’s about presence.

Other tips♡

-Full maximalism I wholeheartedly believe minimalism will be the death of society. So apply that glitter like there’s no tomorrow, wear that statement outfit, none of that “clean girl” around here.

-Even on your off days wear causal outfits in your favorite color

-Find your signature scent. Our smell and memory are closely related, so even if someone doesn't remember your face, that association with your scent can evoke strong emotions.

-Incorporate gua sha and other lymphatic drainage massages into your skincare & body care routine

🎀 TAKE UP SPACE, NEVER apologize for being sexy, girly, soft, loud, or sparkly🎀

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demilypyro · 4 months ago

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Molly called Kill la Kill a "red lesbian" type show. And tbh nothing has ever been more true. Because something that stands out to me is that pretty much everyone in this show wholeheartedly believes what they fight for is right. In this fucked up quasi-metaphorical space, your power is pretty much directly proportional to how strongly you believe in what you do.

Satsuki is a normal human, but even in her backstory where she's a middle-schooler, she can take down a giant like Gamagoori because she's just THAT sure that what she believes in is right. Her sense of justice gives her literal strength. Even Mako, who essentially has no skills whatsoever, is given extraordinary narrative impact simply by always believing really hard and acting on her feelings. And I think this narrative device is illustrated really well by how almost nobody ever lies in this show. Everyone is always shouting exactly what they're fighting for.

Ryuko is always wholeheartedly fighting for her dad, and then for herself, and for her friends. Mako is always wholeheartedly fighting for Ryuko, and for her family. Satsuki is always fighting because she believes it's the moral thing to do. The elite four always fight because they believe in Satsuki THAT MUCH. Conviction is the name of the game. It's what sets these characters apart from the rank and file. Even Ragyo utilizes this meta-narrative, believing fully that her goals are the natural order of things, and being made near-untouchable by it.

There are three notable exceptions to this rule. First, there's Maiko Ogure. A minor antagonist in the early show, Maiko makes almost no impact on the plot whatsoever. Her lies and deceit earn her an immediate ousting from the story. Even the other minor antagonists get redeemed in the final battle because at least they were honest. Maiko doesn't get to do shit.

Our second exception: Satsuki. As part of her plan, she compromises on her honesty in hopes of taking down Ragyo. She lies about her loyalties, she lies about the purpose of Honouji, and she lies to Ryuko's face about her dad. Unavoidably, the narrative punishes her for this, by making all her plans come to nothing. Only when she discards these falsehoods and fights openly alongside Ryuko for what she believes is right, does she truly get to succeed in defeating her mother.

The final exception is Nui Harime. Because Nui.... doesn't believe in anything. She's empty inside. The only thing she's concerned with is making all the humans die. She has her own goals, taking a noted interest in Ryuko, but when Ragyo tells her to off herself, she does so with no hesitation. She's even the only character who actively disguises herself. She's a dark reflection of what Ryuko would be without her human connections. A true nihilist. In the end, she's reduced to nothing, her consciousness fading away entirely inside the life fiber mass.

Kill la Kill is a show that cares about being who you are and standing up for what you believe in. And nothing else has ever punched me in the heart quite like it.

#kill la kill #kill la kill spoilers

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yandere-romanticaa · 5 months ago

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𝔎𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔅𝔦𝔩𝔩.

❝ Rather be in Hell than alone. ❞ - sza.

This fic was inspired by the song Kill Bill by SZA.

yandere! modern au! phainon x fem! reader.

How did he get here?

The white haired man often asked himself that very same question for what seemed like ages now. Standing hidden away underneath the shadows like some crazed phantom became a nightly routine of his ever since his heart got shattered into a million pieces.

Phainon was popular, well liked and respected. He had a good life all things considered - a stable job, good friends and a lovely girl to come back home to.

With the realization that last bit was no longer the case, a sharp pang coursed through his chest. He watched your bedroom window closely, hands in his pockets as he noticed the fresh bouquet of flowers placed on your window. Fresh flowers from what he could tell, the pretty colours seemed to pop so cutely with the glow of the light coming from your living room and the wine red vase only added the blooms even more charm.

The same vase that he got you.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

He can recall the sensation of the comfortable armchair as it creaked underneath his weight. The sound of the clock on the wall set him off as Phainon twirled with his thumbs, his gaze cascaded downwards as a heavy silence hung in the air. That silence would soon be a blissful past as it was soon broken by a gentle voice, a sad attempt at sounding compassionate.

"Phainon? It's alright to be upset, that is a natural reaction to such a messy break up."

The voice of his therapist echoed slightly in the overly white office, which only set him even more on edge. He grumbled in annoyance, cursing his meddling friends for forcing him to seek professional help instead of just letting his anger bubble inside him.

Besides, he was never angry for too long. His anger always comes and goes.

That's just the kind of guy he is.

Phainon snorted, a pained grin on his face, a pathetic attempt at trying to lighten the situation. "Sorry Doc, guess I just lost myself for a second there!"

From the corner of his eye, Phainon could see the worried looks his therapist was giving him. It was horrendously obvious that he was doing a poor job at trying to mask his concerns with that faux smile and the stench of his cheap cologne made him grateful for having a better sense of smell. His own was so much better, he figured. A truly childish thought in the grand scheme of things but he really could not be bothered to think like an adult at the moment.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a tiny wine red ribbon hanging subtly on the Doctor's right hand, a stark contrast to his otherwise crisp and perfect exterior.

It didn't suit him whatsoever, Phainon thought flatly, his eyes still glued to his shoes.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

With a startle, Phainon realized that he was now standing in front of your door. His heart thumped in his chest, it made him wonder if he was going to die from cardiac arrest right then and there. All of the wonderful memories of his love came back to him, all of the sweetness he had soaked up only to lose it all in the end. It wasn't fair how much of an effect you had on him, even after all this time Phainon was still wholeheartedly yours.

And you did not want him. Not anymore.

He bit his lip, hard. The taste of blood filled his mouth as a few droplets of the thick liquid fell on his jet black hoodie, the dark material masking it.

This really was not his best idea.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

His hour was almost up. Huh. He figured he should be more ecstatic about that. The last hour felt like a century due to the incessant nagging of his therapist, who kept trying to get Phainon to open up. It was beyond clear that he was a rookie but he was trying, which just added insult to injury. It was fascinating how hard the man was trying to help him, how desperately he tried to offer up some solution to Phainon's sea of endless heartbreak.

None of which was working.

Looking back at the clock, Phainon strained his ears to see if there was perhaps someone else waiting in front of the good Doctor's door. Another lost soul seeking some sort of refuge, a comforting ear of someone who actually cared.

A true rarity in such a business, as he found out not too long ago.

He gritted his teeth as his ears picked up nothing. No sound of any eager on uneasy footsteps, not even a hint of a cough, the only sign of life was right here, in this white box he was stuck in.

... Perfect.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

He did not even feel the thousands of splinters of the wooden door clinging to his skin as he broke into his old flame's apartment. He did not feel how the sticky fabric of his clothes clung to his being, thick sweat and something more heavy trying to weigh him down.

The only thing he could focus on was the shrill scream of the one he holds so dear.

He looked at his old flame and his eyes were suddenly brought back to life. Gone was the lifeless tint of grey in his eye, his mouth forming into an overly happy grin as he rushed straight towards his sweetheart, large hands grabbing onto the shrieking person who was trying to hit him.

How mean. But it was a reasonable reaction, he supposed.

For the first time in forever, things felt right. Phainon wanted to scream from the rooftops that he had you, he finally was holding you in his arms once again. Gone was the pain, his sorrow melting away into a puddle of need as he kissed your face all over, salty tears staining the cheeks of the one most precious to him, which caused him great agony. He grabbed the hand which was now raised high up, his grip iron tight as he pleaded to just be heard -

- And then as the man turned his head, all he could see was red.

A small, dainty little piece of fabric clinging onto your wrist, the tiny red wine bow a stark reminder of why he came here in the first place. He chuckled maniacally, his chest reverberating back and forth as he tilted his head backwards, his gaze meeting the soft glow of the moonlight as he felt the white hot rage take over his whole being.

This is not the best idea.

But, he could not even think of that statement at the moment.

He had other things to do.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

The man thrashed helplessly beneath Phainon, the massive wooden desk now a mess of documents and spit as the Doctor tried to feebly break free from the chokehold in which he was held in. A pathetic trail of his own vomit drizzled down his busted lip as Phainon grinned like a mad man, pleased to see that the one who caused him so much pain was finally feeling a fraction of what he has been feeling these past few months.

Who did this pathetic waste of oxygen think he was? Big fancy doctor got his degree and gets and overly inflated ego to boot.

And his precious peach fell for it.

She fell for it and it hurt, it wounded him so revoltingly. In that office at that moment, Phainon was less of a man and more a beast. A true deliverer of suffering. If the stars had decided to place him into an overly dramatic Greek tragedy as the main hero, then so be it.

He was going to be the star. He was going to be the brightest, most brilliant fucking star anyone had ever seen.

And Phainon was going to burn so bright that he was going to suffocate the man beneath him with his light.

His knuckles twitched sickeningly, the disgusting sound of impending death reaching his ears as he felt the tears of his victim on his wrists. The cool liquid felt surprisingly pleasant against his overly hot flesh, giving him a brief sense of reprieve. Phainon wondered if the engorged vein on his arm was going to pop due to the strain he was putting on it, his perfectly white flesh a stark contrast against the dark blue seam. Suddenly , he snapped at himself, there was no time to waste on mindless idling - harder.

He needed to press harder. And so, he did.

He needed to see the life out of the man's eyes being snuffed out. He needed to feel the sensation of his spirit leaving his stupid body, he needed to make sure that in this life and in all the others that this man would never reach you. Never, not ever.

With a sick thud, the Doctor went limp in Phainon's embrace. The silence was so thick and heavy that it felt as though it could be cut with a dull butter knife. Phainon held the fresh corpse in his hands, the broken neck of the man he had just savagely killed being lulled side to side like a broken souvenir one would get at a cheap pawn shop.

Once he was sure that the man was gone for good, Phainon stood up. He drooped the body carelessly onto the green carpet, the fuzzy fabric now stained crimson. The Doctor's hand was next to his head, that stupidly cute ribbon still clinging onto him even in death. Phainon roared in anger, heavenly blue eyes shining with fury as he grabbed his victim's hand and ripped the ribbon off. Stuffing it into his pocket, he turned his back away from the gruesome scene and made his way out the door, his steps thick and heavy.

He'd rather be in jail than feel this pain.

⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

Phainon was weeping. He didn't know what he was doing, hell, he didn't even know why he was doing it in the first place. He did not understand why he had his arms wrapped around your neck, he did not understand why he was choking the life out of you with that same wine red ribbon which he had taken earlier.

All he could focus on was your face. That beautiful, ethereal, angelic face. The face which haunts his dreams and nightmares, the once cheerful face which was turning plum purple by the second. Phainon heaved, his body heavy with regret and sorrow but the anger... Oh how he choked back on a sob, thick snot escaping his nose as he gripped his peach even harder, the soft flesh becoming more and more dull in his grotesque hold. Gone was the lovesick puppy, banished deep within the darkest pits of Hell the moment he snuffed the life out of his first victim. Standing now was a man who had lost his will to live.

He had nothing. He had lost you. Once upon a time, he vowed to you that no one was ever going to lay a single finger on you. In some macabre way, he kept his word. For as long as he walked on this Earth, not a single soul dared to harm you.

Never once did he think that he was going to be the one who was going to end it all.

Phainon watched you take your last breath and he wondered if this was perhaps the most beautiful he had ever seen you. No one could take you from him, not even he himself could do that now. The thought of having no one, it made his soul whimper in morbid misery. But right here, right now, he had you. He was never going to be alone, never again.

Phainon had made up his mind ages ago. He'd rather be in Hell than be alone.

A/N: Ah, there really is no better tension between a girl who has to study for an important exam vs getting a fic idea right in the middle of her study session.

I literally got screwed over by SZA for showing up on my playlist because this fic just popped in my head. I made it a modern AU because I thought it fit the tone of the song better, hope y'all don't mind. I'm also having a bad creative block as of late so I've no idea if this fic is actually any good or not! Everything I write looks wrong these days and I had to go back and rewrite this multiple times because I just could not get it to look right.

If anything, it was at least fun to edit.

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mrsbarnesblog · 1 year ago

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˖˚⊹ my girl

➤ summary: even if you knew that you and Rafe were just hooking up, hearing his friend's comments about you, while you were preparing a venue for the event, hurt more than you expected it to

➤ w/c: 2k.

➤ warnings: fwb (or smth like that) to lovers, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, Rafe's friends lol, swearing

➤ a/n: soft Rafe is my weakness, I'm sorry. he's on my mind 24/7 and I literally don't know what to write

masterlist

You were running around the outdoor venue with boxes full of pastry, where in a few hours there was going to be an annual celebration with lots of rich people. For some reason, Ward Cameron, who was paying for everything here, decided that your father’s small bakery was good enough to feed all of the kooks, so from the afternoon on, you were organizing tables to make everything look perfect.

The place itself looked truly magical—decorated with a lot of flower arrangements, lights and expensive furniture. It was located at Figure 8, so you obviously never had the opportunity to visit it before. It was Kook’s territory, and even with your family’s bakery, which was pretty popular on the island, you were not welcome here.

Just a few minutes ago, Ward himself came to the venue with Rafe and his son’s best friends in order to check how everything was going.

As soon as your eyes met Rafe’s, you both stopped for a few seconds, too shocked to see each other in a public place. What happened between you and Kook's prince was something that you had never expected to get into, yet here you were.

You didn’t know what got into you that one night, but out of nowhere, Rafe was talking to you, smiling, looking all sexy and without his usual cockiness, so you couldn’t resist him.

It wasn’t that you even regretted your decision; it just became more weird every single time you met because he wasn’t bad. Rafe Cameron wasn’t an asshole, which everyone made him seem to be. He was affectionate and surprisingly soft, always checking on you while you two were together and never pressuring you to leave. You wholeheartedly had to admit that it became more than just sex after a few weeks, no matter how hard you tried to deny it.

You were definitely not dating, mostly because he had never asked you to, but you two were always texting about random stuff, he would even pick you up to hang out at his secret spot on the beach, or just to simply sit in his truck with lots of food and talk. Part of you hated it, but Rafe made you feel so comfortable and safe around him so you were scared to push it and ask him what was happening between you.

Rafe’s eyes stayed fixated on you as his father, Kelce and Topper stood near him, looking around the venue and chatting. But he could not care less about it because his entire attention was drawn to you and how adorable you looked in your pink tennis skirt and simple white polo with the bakery's logo on it.

He may or may not be responsible for Ward’s choice of bakery to work with, because Rafe made sure to accidentally mention it a few times, knowing that it would be a good profit for your family. Yet, seeing you here slightly took him off guard, as the first thought that appeared in his head was to go up to you, flirt and make you blush, or just simply kiss you. But he couldn’t, right? At least not until he properly talked to you.

“Damn, she’s hot, even for a pogue. No wonder you hit it a few times, bro. I'd do it too.” The moment words left Topper’s mouth, Rafe’s heart dropped into his stomach. Kelce snickered, fistbumping Topper, and Rafe cursed himself for running his mouth. He really considered drowning his friends in the nearest lake.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” Rafe seethed through gritted teeth, elbowing his friend.

“I would appreciate you both watching your language.” Ward sighed, wincing and rubbing a hand on his beard. He looked at Rafe, who completely ignored his questioning gaze while trying to figure out how to fix it.

Even with you standing with your back facing them, Rafe saw that you heard it too. Your hand froze in the air, still holding a cupcake, and your shoulders sagged in disappointment and hurt.

Only a few seconds later, you came back to your senses. Your back straightened, you finished decorating the table and you put empty boxes in the trash can. You turned around, showing the fakest smile Rafe had ever seen on your face. Your nails digged in your palm to control yourself, and you stepped closer to the four of them.

“Mr. Cameron, thank you for working with our bakery. It really means a lot for my family. I did everything and now the event manager should carry on. I, um, should go. I have a lot of stuff to do. Have a great night.” Your eyes were glossy, with tears clearly visible on your waterline. As you awkwardly and in a rush thanked Ward, you didn’t even look at Rafe or either of his friends, knowing damn well that it would break you.

You didn’t even wait for Ward’s response before storming off, trying to get as far away from these people as possible. Your chest felt too heavy, and the lump in your throat was so hard that you could barely speak. But you didn’t even walk a few feet away before a familiar hand wrapped around your wrist and made you turn around.

“What do you want from me?” You snapped at Rafe, trying to yank your hand out of his grip. “Don’t touch me, Rafe.”

“This is not what you think it is.” He said, searching for your eyes. His brows were knit together, and his eyes were big and round, almost in fear.

“Oh no? Isn’t it what I am to you? Just a hit. Just another one on your long list. Why are you bothering to explain anything to me anyway?” You laughed, barely able to hold back your tears. As if it were not enough that you cried in front of Rafe, neither his friends nor his father seemed to mind their own business, obviously listening to your conversation.

“No. You know that it was more for me, Y/N. I’m serious about you, okay? Topper just cannot filter his fucking mouth.”

“Stop doing it, Rafe!” You broke, not bothering to hide anymore. “Stop playing with my feelings when you know damn well that you won’t have anything serious with me. I’m not rich, I’m not a kook and I’m not like the prefect girls you usually hang out with. I get it, okay?” You yanked your hand out of his hold, not missing the way Rafe tried to catch it back. Wiping away hot and angry tears with the back of your hand, you look him right in the eyes. “I just wish you didn't give me hope in the first place, because I feel so fucking stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Y/N. I don’t care about your money or your status, for that matter. I want you and I mean it. Just let me explain—”

"This is why you would not even speak to me in front of anyone, right? This is why we were always sneaking around. Because you want me, not because you’re too good to be around me.“ You confronted him, not even caring who could hear or see you. From the position where you were standing, you saw a bunch of young waitresses standing not so far away, pretending to work on the table but eyeing you and Rafe every second.

“I’m an asshole. I know it. I know that I didn’t put the label on us and that I fucked up, not doing the right thing.” He stepped closer to you, not breaking eye contact to show that he was sincere. "When Topper and Kelce saw me with you, I panicked and said the only thing that made sense: we were just hooking up. I didn’t want it to be that way, fuck…” Rafe screched the back of his neck in agitation.

“You should go back and stop embarrassing yourself talking with a pogue. I bet your friends found it entertaining. How much did you tell them, hm? Did you share every single detail of what we were doing?” Your voice broke at the end.

“I didn’t tell them anything!”

“Well, I don’t believe you, Rafe!” You sniffed, looking away to distract yourself from the look in Rafe’s eyes. His blue eyes were round, full of concern and it seemed like he was almost panicking. "I understand how guys like you talk about women, but I guess I was stupid enough to believe you would not do that to me. So yeah, you got what you wanted from me and now you can go back to—”

You were rumbling one moment, and the next, two hands pressed on your cheeks, tilting your head up, and Rafe's lips were on yours. You gasped, hands freezing in the air in shock, before slowly moving to Rafe’s shirt to tug on it.

He didn’t rush; he just firmly yet gently held you against him while his tongue slipped into your mouth, savoiring every second. It’s been just two days since you last seen each other, but God, you missed kissing him. Even if you wanted to move away, you couldn’t. Rafe's palms were on your face, guiding you, while his kiss made your head feel empty and light. He smelled and tasted so good and you hated how quickly you got used to the feeling of his touch on your skin.

“Everyone can see us.” You mumbled into his mouth.

“I don’t fucking care, Y/N.” He furrowed, still feeling the wetness on your cheeks from crying. With his thumbs gently rubbing your soft skin, he gave you a few quick kisses before continuing. "I swear, all I said to them was that we just hooked up, because it is what it was at that moment. I wouldn’t have shared anything intimate about you, baby. Please believe me when I say this.” Rafe sighed, resting his forehead on yours. His nose bumped against your—something that he started doing when you were alone in the bed, laying face to face and just looking at each other. "I am sorry I made you feel like you were just sex for me, because you weren't. Spending time with you was the best fucking time of my day, and whatever that was between us, I don’t want it to end.”

“Me neither…” You whispered, feeling warmth rushing through your body when Rafe wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you even closer into him. He placed a kiss on the top of your head and then you felt him turning around, seemingly studying people around you.

“Since everyone saw us today, do you think I can take you away with me right now?”

“Take me away? But you have an event in a few hours, and I have to work.”

“No, now we have an event and we have to find you a dress. I’ll handle your work and find someone who can deliver your orders.” Your head snapped up, only to see a proud grin on Rafe's face.

“You’re joking, right?” You pulled away, laughing. “I don’t have such clothes nor do I have money to buy them, and I definitely wasn’t invited.”

“That’s why I’m taking you to the store now. And since you are my girl now, you’ll be my plus one.” He just shrugged, probably unaware that he had just filled your stomach with freaking butterflies.

“I’m your girl?”

Rafe silently looked you in the eyes for a few seconds, and it seemed like he was trying to reassure himself about something. His eyes then shifted to your lips, as he dragged you back to his body, lowering himself to mumble against your mouth. “Yeah, you are my girl.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagine #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n

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komsomolka · 2 months ago

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In Animal Farm, the animals represent the working class, and each different species represents a different social category within the working class. The pigs — the most intelligent animals — are the professional revolutionaries, Orwell’s stand-in for the Bolsheviks. The chickens, the horses, the sheep and so on are representations of the workers. The humans represent the bourgeoisie, and the book depicts class struggle in terms of animals versus humans. [...]

In this book, George Orwell expresses aristocratic contempt towards the people, the working class. The main target of critique in this book is not the revolutionaries, but the working classes themselves. They are depicted as dumb, incompetent, incapable of reasoning, without any historical initiative — a manipulable mass lacking any capacity for political protagonism. When you analyze its narrative, only two subjects emerge as having the capacity for reason and historical autonomy: the human beings (the bourgeoisie) and the pigs (the Bolsheviks). The working class — the rest of the animals — is depicted as dumb and docile from beginning to end. In fact, about 70% of the book consists of nothing but such depictions. [...]

Orwell begins his story with Old Major, a pig metaphor for Karl Marx, who introduces the principles of Animalism — Marxism. With the exception of the other pigs, none of the animals can really grasp the depth of his theory, but they like what they hear anyway. With the exception of the other pigs, none of the animals can really grasp the depth of his theory, but they like what they hear anyway. The stage is set, and Orwell begins introducing the rest of the cast. Boxer and Clover are the first representatives of the working class that the reader learns about [...]. Orwell then goes back to Old Major and the preparation for the upcoming revolution, caricaturing Marxism as a simple doctrine where animals simply label humans as a great enemy, and insist that all life will immediately improve as soon as the humans — the bourgeois — disappear. [...]

The pigs, the revolutionaries, are said to be the cleverest. But what about the working class? [...] Orwell describes Boxer as a hard worker — excited for working, someone who believes in the revolutionary project, and also always as dumb. Boxer as subject is pure, he truly and wholeheartedly believes in the revolution and in Animalism, and this makes him gullible. [...]

In Animal Farm the process is straightforward: the animals are fooled because they are dumb; there’s no complex scheme here. You might argue “Jones, it’s not a complex book, the narrative is simplified!” Listen, I understand that the book is simple by nature, that everything is direct for a reason, but you notice this in turn: when it comes to the betrayal of the revolution, the subversion of the revolution, there’s no challenge for the pigs. Do you get it? It’s easy for the pigs, because the working class is stupid. [...]

At all times the working class is described as subjects who feel a disturbance, who sense something is off, but are incapable of even verbalizing their own dissatisfaction in a conscious, intelligible way. They can feel, but are incapable of reasoning. This is the core message of the book. The working class are, in the metaphor of the narrative, farm animals incapable of reasoning. [...]

Orwell spends the entire book describing generations of animals as easily confused, dumb, stupid, illiterate, amnesiac… the entire book! The main target of this book’s critique aren’t the revolutionaries or communism: it’s the working class. George Orwell writes from an aristocratic ethos. “Elite theory” posits the people as incapable of self-governance, without the capacity to constitute themselves as a political subject, and therefore always the object of dispute and manipulation by vying elites. The people lack the capacity for political self-determination, cannot build a political program or engage in autonomous political action. This is George Orwell’s theory, borne out by his choice of metaphors.

Notice that the revolution isn’t lost to repression. In the book’s narrative structure, it is not the repression that kills the revolution and it is not the institution of privileges that kills the revolution. The book’s narrative structure indicates that all the processes that led to its corruption have their roots in the fact that the working class is incapable of intervening on its own behalf. For example, in the Sunday assemblies in which the direction of the revolution is debated, nobody from the working class can think for themselves — only the pigs speak. It’s not the case that the pigs manipulate the working class. When the animals undergo a literacy campaign, the working class proves incapable of learning how to read and write. This point is very important! It’s central to the argumentative and narrative structure. The pigs don’t try to stop the rest of the animals from learning how to read and write, it’s the animals themselves who prove incapable… because they are dumb. [...]

Animal Farm isn’t a critique of revolutionaries; it’s a critique of workers. It’s an aristocratic manifesto against the working class.

When you get down to it, the villains in the book are more meritorious than the workers. The humans are described as exploiters, but they can negotiate. They manage to hold on to the other farms and, by the end, they are happily collaborating with the pigs, satisfied that they have squelched all the potential out of the revolution. They are intelligent, cunning, and achieve their goals. Same goes for the pigs: they’re capable of fooling everyone, etc. Meanwhile, the non-pig, non-dog animals — especially the horses Boxer and Clover — are imbeciles. They have no merit outside of their kind character and ability to work. This point is crucial. The novel repeatedly describes Boxer as a hard worker of great character, and an imbecile. He explicitly gets called stupid at five separate points; there’s even an interesting aside where, approaching the age of twelve, Boxer contemplates retiring and using that time to finally learn the last twenty letters of the alphabet. In other words, the representative of the working class needs to dedicate his entire retirement to overcoming illiteracy. [...]

The pig-revolutionaries are also targets of critique, of course. Here we simply see several anticommunist myths recycled. I will spare the reader tiresome citations, but, for example, mid-way through the story Orwell ridicules the Soviet accounts of siege, sabotage, and espionage endured at hands of the imperial powers, portraying them all as Napoleon’s (Stalin’s) fabrications. The book showcases no real sabotage carried out by other farms still run by humans — that is, other capitalist countries. Orwell reproduces the myth that the Soviet Union didn’t face sabotage or terrorism, you dig? There’s no Animal Farm metaphor for the actions of England, France, the United States, Japan, Spain, Portugal. No metaphor for industrial sabotage, the blowing up of water treatment plants and hydroelectric dams, etc. Everything is a “Stalinist” lie. Whether you like or dislike Stalin is completely besides the point. Nobody can deny that the same imperialist nations which invaded Russia in the immediate aftermath of the revolution, who fueled the civil war which killed more than six million people — 17 countries banded together to invade Russia after the revolutionary war! A story where all of these capitalist countries simply stood by the sidelines and peacefully observed the growth of Soviet industry? That’s a fairytale. There’s so much documentation out there: telegrams from ambassadors, CIA reports, British intelligence reports, diaries from agents and spies, etc. all discussing systematic sabotage, assassination attempts, the organization of groups of exiled reactionary Russians to commit terrorist attacks in the Soviet Union, etc. [...]

George Orwell’s ommisions are so conspicuous they in fact qualify as a form of Naziphilia. At around page 80 (in my edition), he begins to construct a metaphor of the preliminary stages of WWII, and criticizes Stalin (through Napoleon) for the German-Soviet Non-Aggression Pact. Throughout the book, there is no literary metaphor whatsoever that captures the gravity of the Nazi menace, the dangers Nazism presented to mankind. The story is constructed such that the denunciations against the neighbouring Foxwood and Pinchfield farms are all fabricated by the pigs. This is a seriously disturbing choice. It is tantamount to whitewashing the Nazis. [...] Any account of WWII should be honest about the fact that the Soviet Union made several desperate attempts to establish antifascist alliances with the liberal imperialists, especially England, France and the US, and that these same liberal imperialists rejected these efforts because they wanted the Soviet Union to experience maximal losses warring against Nazi Germany by itself. Particularly in the US, many of the figures from the political-economical establishment worked off of the thesis that Nazi Germany would invade and dominate the Soviet Union. If Europe fell to the Nazis, the Americas would still belong to the US, you dig? The German-Soviet Non-Aggression Pact was a brilliant diplomatic maneuver because only thanks to this pact was the rest of Europe forced to join the war against the Nazis. That deal, in fact, prevented the forging of a liberal-fascist pact against the Soviet Union. There were concrete possibilities of an alliance between Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy, France, England, the US, and Fascist Japan against the Soviet Union. [...]

It seems obvious to me that George Orwell was furious about the fact that the Soviet Union was not defeated in WWII. Animal Farm was published in 1945. Orwell witnessed the tragedy that Nazism brought to the world. In 1945 most people already knew about the Holocaust. People at that point were already informed about the concentration camps. People already knew what the Nazis had done in Poland and at Auschwitz. George Orwell, in this context, wrote an allegory where WWII and Nazism are depicted as nothing, where Soviet self-defense policies are depicted as sinister intrigues unrelated to liberal and fascist siege. There’s no Churchill cheerleading fascism in Italy or Spain. The gravity of this framing needs to be understood. In 1945 the whole world was shocked by Nazi concentration camps, and Orwell was asking “Sure, that was bad, but what about the Soviet Union?” It seems absurd, but this is exactly what this book describes, under cover of literary metaphor. “Sure, Auschwitz was bad, but what about Stalin?” That is this whole book’s vibe. [...] And this book, Animal Farm, is a deeply reactionary book, displaying aristocratic condescension against the people, a book in which the working class appear as imbeciles. It displays all the marks of the bourgeois genre of elite theory. Its historical metaphors for Soviet history whitewash capitalists and imperialists. The USSR is shown as self-sabotaging, while its enemies are completely absolved. This is George Orwell, and this is why he was so successful. [...] This explains all the hype, all the buzz and promotion it receives from the establishment. This book will remain famous and beloved so long as racist and aristocratic liberalism persists, until we put and end to this profoundly unequal society by waging a revolution of our own.

#animal farm #george orwell #posted links

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allyricas · 4 months ago

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One-sided enemies to lovers pre-season 4 steddie

Eddie hates Steve, like really, genuinely fucking loathes the guy

Steve only knows of Eddie peripherally until the kids join Hellfire. Then it's a nonstop stream of "Eddie's just so cool and funny... he's the best DM and he's like...tall and 20... and sticks up for us" from the younger teens. Even Max has mentioned that "yeah he's pretty alright or whatever" which is basically her admitting she thinks he's really freaking cool.

So initially Steve has an open mind about him, all he remembers about him from high school is the drug dealing and the occasional table top sermons against conformity.

Inevitably that turns to intrigue because Eddie is very interesting. Steve has no reason to think that they couldn't be friendly until the first time they meet eyes across the parking lot after hellfire and the dude is fucking glaring at him. Is staring at Steve like he ran over his puppy or fucked his mom...which Steve's sure he hasn't done either of those things thank you very much.

Anytime they cross paths, Eddie is a huge dick to Steve. The kids have noticed, and even tried to ask why Eddie hates Steve so much but he doesn't really have an actual reason.

"Steve Harrington stands for everything I fucking hate about this stupid town and it's stupid people. Those kids have no clue what they're talking about, there is no way Harrington's a good guy."

And ouch... Steve gets to overhear Eddie as he's venting to the older Hellfire guys about how much Dustin and the others talk about Steve.. apparently all of them talk him up, defend him against Eddie's snarky little comments.

Which should make Steve lose any interest in the guy. Except... he's still really hot and funny and good with the kids.

During the whole Vecna crisis, Eddie's still insistent that he hates Steve. Will tell anyone who'll listen that people like that don't change. Munson doctrine is never wrong after all.

Except Steve still helps him, still brings Eddie food and sneaks him cigarettes and carries him out of the upside down. He still waits around Eddie's hospital room and helps to clear his name.

The nerve of this guy.

And the whole time Eddie's quietly seething over it like how dare he actually help me. He stopped being outwardly mean to Steve because he is afraid of Robin and Nancy. When they catch on to how much Eddie dislikes Steve even after everything, it's all heavy stares and long-suffering sighs...and Steve still won't be an asshole to him at all.

He thinks the whole situation is actually driving him insane when he finally confronts Steve and it ends with Eddie pushing him against the wall and kissing the hell out of him.

And sweet, romantic Steve's just like...yes...finally 🥰🥰🥰 because Steve's been down bad and feeling salty ever since he overheard the conversation after Hellfire. Steve gets the doe-eyed sexy nerd and he's thrilled about it.

Eddie chooses to let go of his one-sided hatred because it turns out hate and love are truly a very fine line to walk. Basically whatever means he gets to keep kissing Steve, he's onboard wholeheartedly. Kisses, handholding, missionary style lovemaking with lots of intense eye contact...future marriage legality be damned... yeah Eddie's all in.

#even better if the reason Eddie hates Steve is because of something Tommy made up #someone should write something for this and definitely come up with the lie that tommy told eddie #plz 🥺#steddie

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meiieiri · 1 year ago

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐚 [gojo satoru]

synopsis: you got married to gojo satoru at the edge of a frozen lake in summer.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

warnings/tags: heavy angst, a love that’s TOO LITTLE TOO LATE if one can even call that a tag, unrequited love (kinda).

Marriage is a golden ring on a chain whose beginning is a single glance between two unsuspecting souls that ends with eternity.

Twelve years. You’ve loved him through twelve springs. It’s bittersweet to think how a person could give another their youth for free. But then again, the only things that you truly keep are the things you give away. That’s just life, isn’t it? And besides, you take a step towards the blue peony littered aisle with a wistful smile on your face as you picture a certain arctic-haired man standing at the other end, when it comes to matters of the heart, keeping ledgers of the love you give and the love you receive is a futile effort.

You should probably put that in your vows later. But ah, what did it matter? Satoru’s probably just gonna wing it later, arguing that expressions of love should be light-hearted and candid much like the love you share.

“Y/N-chan~!” He steps in front of you, his tall form towering over you as he catches you by the student lounge’s vending machine. Shoko smirks behind you, pulling Suguru ahead of you to leave the two of you alone. She nudges you forward and you cast her a betrayed look to which she only replies with an innocent shrug. It’s common knowledge to everyone in Tokyo Jujutsu High how you feel about the Gojo clan’s illustrious little starlet.

Well, it was common knowledge to everyone except Satoru Gojo.

And you don’t know if you find that comforting or saddening.

Comforting that he wouldn’t find out about your feelings from someone else, though you’re still working up the courage to fess up, you wholeheartedly believe that this is something he should hear from you and you alone. Saddening that maybe the reason he’s been all blissfully ignorant of how your breath becomes shallow whenever he’s around you is he’s actually already aware of your feelings towards him and he’s only deflecting it.

“We’ll go ahead, Y/N,” Shoko says in a sing-song voice, taking your cursed tool from you. “Come see me if you have any injuries!”

“But if it’s a broken heart, she probably can’t fix it,” Suguru chimes in, winking at Satoru as if to say: ‘Go talk to her.’ before turning to follow his girlfriend.

A hush falls between you and Satoru, unspoken words swirling around the two of you like a symphony of longing. Both of you seem to be saying the same thing:

Should I tell her?

Should I tell him?

What would she say?

Would he leave?

If the truth is meant to set you free, then he is your jailer. Why is he content with never uttering those words aloud? Why are you so eager to stay in the hedge maze of your mind, seeking his shadow at every corner? This was a tiring game of hide and seek.

But Satoru is completely fine with letting it drag on if it meant he’d never risk losing you.

And you were fine with that too. You were fine being a prisoner to your truth as long as he was with you in this jail cell. You were fine.

Whatever fine means.

“Wanna go to the arcade?” Satoru looks at you with a shimmering bittersweet look in his eyes.

You smile and a breathy laugh falls from your lips causing his face to light up even more.

“That depends, you gonna let me win?”

“Never.”

“Y/N! There you are.”

You turn around to see an older Shoko, her youthful bob cut having outgrown its juvenile flare. She looks out of breath, she must have run around the venue looking for you and judging from the way she keeps glancing at her watch, and the exasperated look she was throwing your way at the sight of you still in your silk robe, you needed to get moving.

But your feet remain planted in the middle of the empty aisle, your gaze trained on the arch.

“You feeling okay?” Shoko asks, her hand finding yours in a tender display of solidarity. “It’s okay to be nervous, you know.”

You flash her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I know. Just…deep in thought.”

“Yeah.”

Weddings are always so beautiful, you think to yourself as Shoko steps back giving you some space as you contemplate the day ahead. Your fingers trace one of the satin linens adorning the trellises much like your heart traces the contours of a love too delicate to verbalize, too powerful to ignore. Your gaze dances over the elegant arrangements of blue, white and gray, the scent of grapefruit-quince adorning the air, mixing with the scent of peonies, jasmines and white musk.

Everything here speaks of the imminent union of two souls finding their way to each other. And how comforting it is to know that no matter where you wander, all paths inevitably lead to Satoru Gojo. And you have your drunk cartographer heart to thank for that.

“He loves you,” Shoko finally says, catching your wrist to bring you over to the gazebo to get touched up.

“…I know.”

You look back at the empty aisle, with all but one question in your mind.

What happens when simply knowing is no longer enough?

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again with my sunglasses off?”

You nearly choke on your yogurt drink when you see yet another stunningly familiar light blue sticky note on your desk. Satoru fucking Gojo is going to be the death of you one day. Your touch grazes over the hastily scribbled note, a small smile playing at your lips as you take out a white pad of sticky notes from your school bag. After collecting your thoughts, you decide to play along with his little game, your heart fluttering when you realize that this back and forth could actually be considered flirting.

“There’s no such thing as love at first sight. And sorry, pretty boys like you aren’t exactly my type.”

Satoru finds the white sticky note plastered on his stool in Jujutsu Tech’s science lab. Despite the playful jab in your reply, Satoru is hyperfixated on the fact that you just called him pretty. Did you really mean it? He bites the inside of his cheek being careful not to grin too much in fear of Suguru catching wind of what’s happening — the strongest sorcerer of this generation being caught off-guard by his little crush? Detestable!

“You think I’m pretty? ;) I knew it.”

Shoko looks at you funnily, you’re practically red as a tomato with how you’re fuming from the ears and sputtering about how ridiculous Satoru is being. “He’s just so…so…!”

“You really should work on finishing your sentences now~”

You are interrupted at the sight Satoru practically hopping down the steps leading to the training field with a convenience store bag tucked under his arm and you sigh exasperatedly, turning away as if he was a bug that’s hovering over your ear that you really shouldn’t be paying attention to. All of his six foot two form plops down next to you and you jump when he presses a cold ice cream bar to your cheek.

“You’re awfully generous today, Satoru,” you smirk, accepting and lifting the ice cream bar in silent gratitude, suppressing the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

Satoru blushes himself, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Shit, say something, Satoru thinks to himself. Was he being too obvious? Did you somehow piece it together now that he has feelings for you?

In his internal dilemma, Satoru settles for undermining the deliberate gesture.

“I only needed two more stickers to get this really neat toy,” Satoru explains, reaching into the convenience store bag and pulling out his new tamagotchi. “Pretty worth it, I would say. The one I saw in Akihabara is being sold for 7500 yen, but that’s the angelgotch variety, so I kinda get the whole roadside robbery thing.”

Of course, he steered the conversation elsewhere. You’re not even surprised at this point that he’ll always only stay at the surface when he treads these long drawn out conversations with you, too afraid to say anything more — do anything more — than what was necessary as your friend.

Keyword: friend.

He had no obligation to you other than being your friend. And you don’t blame him. You’re not angry at him that he’s only willing to stay in shallow water with you, it’s just…

“Hey, I have to go, Yaga’s calling me.” Satoru casually interrupts your train of heartbroken thoughts, but you do not miss the unease in his voice, he almost sounds sorry that he has to bail again.

But you already send him off with a reluctant thumbs up. As you look at his retreating form, he stops for a bit at the stone tori gate, his head bowed in thought, you don’t know why you held your breath. He reaches into his pocket, but thinks better of it, and he paces two hesitant steps forward.

Then, he looks back to meet your eyes from afar.

And his heart clenches in a mixture of affection and exasperation when you are the first to blushingly look away.

The ten feet separating the two of you is very reminiscent of how you began: running in opposite directions to outdo the other in your competition to see who can act that they care less, placing more distance between your flustered hearts. Satoru gazes at you as if he’s seen the divine incarnated into a single beautiful being. He wipes a tear from his eye, sniffing momentarily, watching you gracefully float down the aisle with an equally smitten expression on your features.

Clutching the bouquet in your hands, you don’t break eye contact and everything seems to unfold like a motion picture before your very eyes, your and Satoru’s life together in vivid cinematography: your first dance later tonight, your first trip out of the country together for your honeymoon, your first time, your first year, your first child. Everything. You’ve imagined Satoru to be your first in everything. And as you make your way to the aisle, tears glistening in both your orbs, you stop to meet in the middle, the two of you standing on fate’s edge together.

He casts you a look, and you offer him a melancholic smile.

This was it.

…

The doors open and his bride arrives, and you move to the side, taking your place next to Shoko, painfully leaving the space you and Satoru briefly shared, a space that was never meant for you in the first place.

Which begs the question again: what happens when knowing is no longer enough?

Or is it…the two of you never knew at all how the other felt?

No, you and Shoko watch as Satoru stares at you from his peripheral, his heart fragmenting into irreparable pieces at each step his bride makes towards him.

Should I tell her?

Should I tell him?

What would she say?

Would he leave?

The answer is clear now. He wouldn’t have left. Things were just left unsaid, never admitted — the words that you longed to hear from one another never fell from your lips. Not once in the twelve years you secretly held him in your heart. And thus, fate then decreed that love is for the brave, and not for cowardly souls like you and Satoru Gojo.

And with whatever strength you have left, uncaring if this would cause you to look scandalous: a bridesmaid going after the groom, you mouth the words: “I love you.”

A pained smile appears on his lips, an allegory to the goofy grins he used to flash you when you two were young, and he nods, tears in his eyes.

This was twelve years too late. But it’s better than never.

“I knew it.”

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urdreamydoodles · 7 months ago

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DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You confess your feelings to them

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth & Zatanna Zatara

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- Bruce Wayne’s love is as complex and guarded as the man himself. To the world, he’s Gotham’s enigmatic billionaire; to you, he’s something far more vulnerable. You see the cracks in his carefully constructed facade—the moments when his brooding intensity gives way to tenderness, when his relentless drive falters in your presence. You’ve always known he’s a man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, but with you, he dares to share that burden, even if only a little.

- When you confess your feelings, Bruce’s initial reaction is silence. His piercing blue eyes search yours, as if trying to determine whether this is a dream he’ll soon wake from. “You shouldn’t…” he starts, his voice a whisper edged with guilt. But when you press forward, your words cutting through his walls, something in him breaks. “I’ve wanted this,” he finally admits, his tone raw and unguarded. “More than I’ll ever deserve.”

- Bruce’s love is protective to the point of obsession. He’ll memorize every detail about your life—your routines, your favorite places, the things that make you smile—and use that knowledge to ensure you’re safe and happy. He’s not the kind to shower you with constant affection, but his actions speak volumes. Whether it’s placing a cup of tea on your desk without a word or standing vigil beside you on sleepless nights, Bruce’s love is steadfast and enduring.

- Yet, beneath his stoic exterior lies a man deeply afraid of loss. There will be moments when he pulls away, his fear of putting you in danger outweighing his desire to hold you close. But every time, he’ll come back, his apologies spoken in quiet, heartfelt gestures. He doesn’t love lightly, but when he does, it’s with a depth and intensity that feels unshakable.

- The first time he says “I love you,” it’s almost reluctant, as if the words themselves are too dangerous to utter. You’re sitting in the dim light of the Batcave, his hand resting over yours, when he finally speaks. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. In that moment, you realize that Bruce Wayne’s love is a rare and precious thing, something he’ll fight to protect with everything he has.

Kal-El (Clark Kent) aka. Superman

- Clark Kent’s love is as warm and comforting as the Kansas sun. He’s the kind of person who makes everyone feel like they matter, but with you, there’s something extra in his gaze—a softness, a reverence, as though he can’t quite believe someone like you could exist. He sees you as his equal, his partner, and his home, and he never hesitates to let you know how much you mean to him.

- When you confess your feelings, Clark’s reaction is pure, unfiltered joy. His smile lights up the room, and his eyes shine with a mix of relief and happiness. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he admits, his voice full of warmth. He pulls you into a gentle embrace, his touch as careful as if you were made of glass. “I’ve felt this way about you for so long,” he says, and the sincerity in his tone leaves no room for doubt.

- Clark’s love is boundless and nurturing. He’s always there to support you, whether it’s offering a shoulder to cry on after a tough day or helping you chase your dreams. He believes in you wholeheartedly and never misses an opportunity to remind you of your worth. His affection is unassuming yet profound, rooted in a deep understanding of who you are.

- He’s not afraid to show his love, either. Clark is a romantic at heart, and he’ll surprise you with flowers, handwritten notes, and spontaneous trips to breathtaking places. But what truly sets his love apart is its unwavering consistency. No matter what challenges arise, you can always count on Clark to be there, his love as constant and dependable as the rising sun.

- The first time he says “I love you,” it’s in the quiet of Smallville, under a canopy of stars. He takes your hands in his, his thumb gently brushing against your skin, and looks at you with an expression so full of love it takes your breath away. “I love you,” he says, his voice steady and sure. And in that moment, you know that Clark Kent’s love is the foundation of a life you’ll always cherish.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry Allen’s love is like the speed he’s known for—fast, exhilarating, and impossible to ignore. He’s a whirlwind of energy and humor, always ready with a quick quip or a charming smile. But with you, he slows down, his usual frenetic pace giving way to a quiet attentiveness. You’re the calm in his storm, the person who makes him want to take his time and savor every moment.

- When you confess your feelings, Barry is caught completely off guard. “Wait—what?” he stammers, his mind racing even faster than usual. But when your words sink in, his face lights up with a grin that could rival the sun. “Are you serious? Because if you’re serious, I might actually explode from happiness right now.” He pulls you into a tight hug, his laughter ringing in your ears. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that.”

- Barry’s love is playful and full of life. He’ll make you laugh when you’re feeling down, whisk you away on spontaneous adventures, and remind you of the joy in everyday moments. He’s the type to leave you silly notes, bring you your favorite coffee, and memorize all the little things that make you smile. With Barry, love is a constant source of joy and excitement.

- But his love isn’t just lighthearted; it’s deeply loyal. Barry has a heart as big as the universe, and once he’s given it to you, it’s yours completely. He’ll stand by your side through thick and thin, always ready to fight for you and with you. His love is a promise—a commitment to always be there, no matter what life throws your way.

- The first time he says “I love you,” it’s during a quiet moment after a day of chaos. You’re sitting together, his hand entwined with yours, when he suddenly blurts it out. “I love you,” he says, his voice soft but filled with certainty. He looks at you with a mix of excitement and vulnerability, and in that moment, you know that Barry Allen’s love is as boundless and beautiful as the man himself.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- Diana’s love is as timeless and powerful as the gods themselves. She carries herself with a grace and strength that leaves everyone in awe, but with you, there’s a tenderness that softens her warrior’s heart. She sees you as her equal, her partner, and her confidante, and she never hesitates to tell you how much she values and admires you.

- When you confess your feelings, Diana’s reaction is both calm and profound. She listens intently, her piercing blue eyes locked on yours, and when you’re done, she smiles—a radiant, genuine smile that feels like sunlight breaking through the clouds. “I have loved you for some time,” she admits, her voice steady and sincere. “I was simply waiting for the right moment to tell you.”

- Diana’s love is deeply romantic and rooted in respect. She’ll write you letters in ancient languages, take you on walks through breathtaking landscapes, and share with you the stories and traditions of her people. Her love is both a celebration and a commitment, a promise to honor and cherish you for as long as the Fates allow.

- She’s fiercely protective of you, not because she doubts your strength but because her love for you is all-encompassing. Diana believes in the power of partnership, and she’ll always stand beside you, ready to face whatever challenges come your way. Her love is a source of strength, a reminder that you are never alone.

- The first time she says “I love you,” it’s in a moment of perfect stillness. You’re standing together, the world quiet around you, when she takes your hand and looks into your eyes. “I love you,” she says, her voice as steady and unyielding as the tides. And in that moment, you realize that Diana’s love is a gift as eternal and unwavering as the Amazon herself.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- Arthur Curry’s love is as vast and untamed as the ocean he calls home. He’s bold and confident, with a wit as sharp as his trident, but with you, there’s a gentleness that balances his wild nature. You bring out a side of him that few get to see—the man behind the king, the heart behind the warrior.

- When you confess your feelings, Arthur’s reaction is immediate and heartfelt. “Finally!” he says with a grin, his deep laughter echoing around you. He pulls you into a bear hug, his strength evident but his touch careful. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he admits, his tone teasing but his eyes filled with emotion. “You just made my day, gorgeous.”

- Arthur’s love is passionate and all-encompassing. He’ll take you on adventures to the most breathtaking places, showing you the beauty of the world above and below the waves. He’ll teach you about his culture, his people, and his life, sharing every part of himself with you. With Arthur, love is a grand, sweeping tale of romance and adventure.

- But beneath his bravado lies a man deeply devoted to the ones he loves. Arthur is loyal to a fault, always ready to fight for you and protect you. He’s not afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve, and he makes sure you know just how much you mean to him every single day. His love is as vast and enduring as the ocean itself.

- The first time he says “I love you,” it’s during a sunset by the sea. The waves crash gently against the shore as he turns to you, his expression serious but his eyes filled with warmth. “I love you,” he says simply, his voice carrying the weight of his feelings. And as he takes your hand in his, you realize that Arthur Curry’s love is as deep and infinite as the waters he rules.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- Hal Jordan’s love is electric, a thrill ride of passion and adventure. He’s the type of man who lights up a room with his confidence and charm, but with you, there’s something more. You notice how his cocky smirk softens when he looks at you, how his bravado falters ever so slightly when you’re near. For all his boldness, Hal’s heart is surprisingly vulnerable, and with you, he’s willing to let his guard down.

- When you confess your feelings, Hal’s reaction is immediate and full of his signature flair. “I knew it!” he exclaims, his grin wide and mischievous. But then, as he takes in the seriousness of your expression, his tone softens. “I mean… I hoped. God, I hoped.” He reaches for your hand, his touch firm yet tender. “You’ve made me the happiest guy in the galaxy,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

- Hal’s love is bold and unrestrained. He’s the type to sweep you off your feet—literally, if his ring is involved. Whether it’s a romantic dinner under the stars or a spontaneous trip across the cosmos, Hal’s affection is as grand and uncontainable as his willpower. With him, life is an adventure, and you’re his favorite co-pilot.

- Yet, beneath his larger-than-life personality lies a man who fears losing the people he loves. Hal will go to great lengths to protect you, even if it means putting himself in danger. His love is fiercely loyal, and he’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you safe and happy. He might not always say the right thing, but his actions leave no doubt about how much he cares.

- The first time he says “I love you,” it’s during a quiet moment after a whirlwind day. You’re sitting together, the glow of his ring casting a soft light between you, when he finally speaks. “I love you,” he says, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. And as he looks at you, his usual bravado replaced with raw honesty, you realize that Hal Jordan’s love is as boundless and bright as the stars he soars among.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- Oliver Queen’s love is as intense and passionate as the man himself. He’s a natural charmer, his wit and charisma drawing people to him, but with you, there’s an undeniable depth. You’ve seen past the swagger and the quips to the man underneath—the one who fights tirelessly for what he believes in, the one who loves with every fiber of his being.

- When you confess your feelings, Oliver’s initial reaction is a playful smirk. “Took you long enough,” he teases, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. But then he sees the emotion in your gaze, and his expression softens. “I’m kidding,” he says, his voice dropping to a tender whisper. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for longer than I can say.” He pulls you into a heartfelt embrace, his touch reassuring and warm.

- Oliver’s love is all-encompassing and unapologetic. He showers you with attention, making you feel like the most important person in the world. Whether it’s surprising you with your favorite flowers or planning elaborate dates, Oliver goes out of his way to show you how much he cares. With him, love is a grand gesture followed by quiet moments of pure intimacy.

- He’s fiercely protective of you, sometimes to the point of stubbornness. Oliver’s past has taught him the value of the people he loves, and he’s determined to keep you safe, even if it means butting heads with you from time to time. But his love is also deeply respectful—he admires your strength and independence, and he’s always your biggest cheerleader.

- The first time he says “I love you,” it’s during a quiet evening in his loft. The city lights twinkle outside as he takes your hand, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “I love you,” he says, his voice steady and full of emotion. And in that moment, you know that Oliver Queen’s love is as fierce and unrelenting as the man himself.

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- John Constantine’s love is like the magic he wields—dangerous, unpredictable, and utterly captivating. He’s a man haunted by his past, his cynicism and sharp wit serving as armor against the world. But with you, there’s something different. You see the cracks in his facade, the moments when his sarcasm gives way to vulnerability, and it’s in those moments that you realize how deeply he feels for you.

- When you confess your feelings, John’s first reaction is disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy blond hair. But when he sees the sincerity in your eyes, his smirk fades. “Bloody hell,” he says softly, his voice tinged with something akin to hope. “You’ve no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” But then he steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours. “And yet, here you are.”

- John’s love is messy and complicated, but it’s real. He shows his affection in unconventional ways—charming you with his dry humor, slipping protective wards into your pocket, or staying up all night to ensure you’re safe. He’s not the type for grand romantic gestures, but his devotion is unmistakable. When John Constantine loves, he loves with every shattered piece of his soul.

- He’ll try to push you away at times, convinced that he’s bad news and that you deserve better. But your presence becomes his anchor, your belief in him a light in his darkest moments. He’ll fight his demons—literal and metaphorical—for you, and he’ll do it with a determination that surprises even himself.

- The first time he says “I love you,” it’s during a rare moment of vulnerability. You’re sitting together, the scent of cigarettes and magic lingering in the air, when he finally speaks. “I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He looks at you as if you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart, and in that moment, you know that John Constantine’s love is as dangerous and beautiful as the man himself.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- Roy Harper’s love is like wildfire—intense, passionate, and impossible to contain. He’s got a cocky grin and a sharp wit, but with you, there’s a softness that no one else sees. You bring out the best in him, grounding him when he’s lost and lifting him up when he doubts himself. With you, Roy feels like he’s finally found a place where he belongs.

- When you confess your feelings, Roy’s initial reaction is to laugh nervously. “You’re messing with me, right?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. But when he realizes you’re serious, his grin spreads wide, and he pulls you into a tight hug. “I can’t believe this is real,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

- Roy’s love is full of energy and affection. He’s the type to surprise you with spontaneous road trips, serenade you with his guitar, or stay up all night talking about anything and everything. His love is raw and unfiltered, a reflection of his vibrant personality. With him, life is never boring, and every moment feels like an adventure.

- But Roy’s love also comes with a deep sense of loyalty. He’s been through hell and back, and he’s determined to protect the people he cares about. He’ll stand by your side through thick and thin, always ready to fight for you. His love is a promise—a commitment to be there, no matter what life throws your way.

- The first time he says “I love you,” it’s during a quiet moment after a day full of chaos. You’re sitting together, his arm draped around your shoulders, when he leans in and whispers it. “I love you,” he says, his voice steady but filled with emotion. And as he looks into your eyes, you know that Roy Harper’s love is as fierce and unyielding as the man himself.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- Koriand’r’s love is as radiant and warm as the star that gives her her name. She’s a being of pure emotion, unafraid to express her feelings and embrace the beauty of life. With you, her joy seems boundless, her golden eyes lighting up whenever you’re near. Koriand’r loves openly and without reservation, her affection a beacon of light in your life.

- When you confess your feelings, Koriand’r’s reaction is immediate and enthusiastic. “You love me?” she exclaims, her voice filled with joy. She wraps you in a tight embrace, lifting you off the ground with her otherworldly strength. “Oh, this is wonderful news!” she says, her smile as bright as the sun. “I, too, have been experiencing the feelings of love for you.”

- Koriand’r’s love is as passionate as it is nurturing. She’ll shower you with affection, from tender kisses to heartfelt words of admiration. She’s not shy about expressing how much you mean to her, whether it’s through grand romantic gestures or the way she holds your hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. With Koriand’r, love feels like a celebration of life itself.

- Her love is also deeply protective. Koriand’r is a warrior, and she’ll go to great lengths to keep you safe. But her protective nature is balanced by her respect for your strength and independence. She sees you as her equal, her partner, and she’ll always stand by your side, ready to face any challenge together.

- The first time she says “I love you,” it’s in a moment of pure sincerity. You’re standing under the night sky, the stars reflected in her glowing eyes, when she takes your hands in hers. “I love you,” she says, her voice filled with unshakable conviction. And in that moment, you know that Koriand’r’s love is as eternal and brilliant as the universe she comes from.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara Zor-El’s love is as vibrant and hopeful as her spirit. She’s the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, her emotions shining as brightly as the sun that fuels her strength. With you, her usual confidence and determination soften into a radiant tenderness. You are her constant in a world she’s still learning to navigate, and she treasures you for it.

- When you confess your feelings, Kara’s reaction is pure, unfiltered joy. Her face lights up, and she lets out a delighted laugh before pulling you into an exuberant hug that leaves your feet dangling off the ground. “I was hoping you’d say that!” she exclaims, her cheeks flushed with happiness. She’s practically glowing as she sets you down, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

- Kara’s love is enthusiastic and heartfelt. She’s the kind of partner who will go out of her way to make you smile, whether it’s through a simple gesture like bringing you your favorite treat or flying you to the top of a mountain to watch the sunrise. Her affection is limitless, her joy in loving you written in every action and word.

- Beneath her cheerful exterior, Kara’s love carries a profound sense of responsibility. She’s lost so much in her life, and she’s determined never to lose you. She’s fiercely protective, and her Kryptonian strength is matched only by the strength of her devotion. You are her beacon, her anchor, and she will do everything in her power to keep you safe and happy.

- The first time she says “I love you,” it’s under the night sky, the stars above reminding her of Krypton and the new life she’s built on Earth. She takes your hands in hers, her grip firm but gentle, and gazes into your eyes. “I love you,” she says softly, her voice steady and full of emotion. And in that moment, you realize that Kara’s love is as boundless and beautiful as the universe itself.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- Slade Wilson’s love is a storm—dangerous, intense, and undeniably captivating. He’s a man of contradictions: cold and calculating in the field, yet deeply passionate and fiercely protective in his private life. With you, his sharp edges soften just enough to let you see the man beneath the mask. He doesn’t say much, but his actions speak volumes, showing a loyalty and devotion that few would ever suspect.

- When you confess your feelings, Slade’s reaction is understated yet deeply impactful. He raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “You’re braver than I thought,” he murmurs, his tone teasing but his eyes serious. After a moment’s pause, he steps closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “I feel the same way.” It’s not much, but from Slade, it feels like the world.

- Slade’s love is protective to the point of obsession. He keeps a close eye on you, ensuring you’re safe at all times, even if it means using his vast network of contacts to do so. He’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but his love is evident in the way he ensures your every need is met, often before you even realize you need something.

- He struggles with vulnerability, but with you, he’s learning to let his guard down. There will be moments when he shares pieces of his past, his voice tinged with regret and longing. These moments are rare, but they are raw and genuine, a testament to how deeply he trusts and values you.

- The first time he says “I love you,” it’s in the heat of a dangerous situation. You’re both caught in the middle of chaos, and he pulls you close, his voice low and urgent. “I love you,” he says, his words carrying a weight that leaves you breathless. And in that moment, you know that Slade’s love, though complicated and intense, is utterly unbreakable.

Kent Nelson aka. Dr. Fate

- Kent Nelson’s love is as mysterious and timeless as the magic he wields. He’s a man caught between two worlds, the mortal and the mystical, but with you, he feels grounded. You’re his sanctuary, the one who reminds him of the beauty of the human experience amidst the chaos of his responsibilities. His love is quiet, contemplative, and profound.

- When you confess your feelings, Kent’s reaction is thoughtful and deliberate. He listens carefully, his piercing gaze never leaving yours. When you finish, a soft smile graces his lips. “I’ve known,” he says simply, his voice like a soothing melody. “And I’ve felt the same for longer than I care to admit.” He cups your face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring.

- Kent’s love is expressed in subtle, meaningful ways. He’ll leave you protective charms or enchantments, quietly ensuring your safety. He’ll share with you the wonders of the mystical realms, guiding you through breathtaking landscapes that most mortals can only dream of. His affection is a blend of earthly passion and otherworldly awe.

- He carries a heavy burden as Dr. Fate, and there are times when his responsibilities pull him away. But he always returns to you, his love for you a constant amid the ever-changing tides of his life. He sees you as his anchor, the one who keeps him tethered to humanity when the weight of the Helmet threatens to consume him.

- The first time he says “I love you,” it’s in a moment of stillness after a harrowing battle. The two of you sit together, the air thick with the lingering scent of magic, and he takes your hand in his. “I love you,” he says softly, his voice carrying the weight of eternity. And in that moment, you know that Kent Nelson’s love is as eternal and enduring as the forces he commands.

Rachel Roth aka. Raven

- Rachel Roth’s love is quiet, introspective, and deeply transformative. She’s a woman who guards her heart fiercely, her emotions kept under lock and key to protect both herself and others. But with you, she feels safe enough to let those walls crumble, revealing a depth of feeling that’s as beautiful as it is overwhelming.

- When you confess your feelings, Rachel’s reaction is a mixture of surprise and trepidation. Her dark eyes widen, and she hesitates, as if unsure whether she deserves the love you’re offering. But when she sees the sincerity in your gaze, her lips curve into a small, genuine smile. “I feel the same,” she whispers, her voice barely audible but filled with raw emotion.

- Rachel’s love is understated but deeply meaningful. She’s not one for grand declarations, but her actions speak volumes. Whether it’s staying up late to comfort you after a bad day or sharing her favorite books and music with you, her affection is woven into the quiet moments you share together.

- She struggles with the darkness inside her, but your presence is a light that helps her keep it at bay. You give her hope, reminding her that she’s more than the sum of her fears and doubts. With you, she feels understood and accepted, and she cherishes you for it.

- The first time she says “I love you,” it’s in the sanctuary of her room, the air filled with the scent of incense and candlelight. She looks at you with a mixture of vulnerability and determination, her voice steady but soft. “I love you,” she says, her words a rare and precious gift. And in that moment, you know that Rachel Roth’s love is as profound and enduring as the soul that carries it.

Zatanna Zatara aka. Zatanna

- Zatanna’s love is as enchanting and dazzling as her magic. She’s a performer at heart, her charm and charisma lighting up every room she enters. But with you, there’s no need for stage lights or illusions—her love for you is genuine and unadorned, a reflection of her true self.

- When you confess your feelings, Zatanna’s reaction is theatrical in the best way. Her face lights up with excitement, and she immediately conjures a flurry of sparkling lights around you. “You love me?” she exclaims, her voice filled with delight. She takes your hands in hers, her expression radiant. “Good, because I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

- Zatanna’s love is playful and full of wonder. She’ll surprise you with magical displays of affection, from enchanted flowers that never wilt to whispered words of love spelled out in the stars. With her, every day feels like a fairytale, her magic infusing even the smallest moments with beauty and joy.

- Beneath her dazzling exterior lies a woman who feels deeply and loves fiercely. Zatanna is fiercely protective of you, using her magic to shield you from harm and her determination to ensure your happiness. She’ll stand by your side through every challenge, her love unwavering and steadfast.

- The first time she says “I love you,” it’s during a quiet moment after one of her performances. The two of you are alone backstage, the glow of the stage lights fading into the distance. She takes your face in her hands, her gaze soft and full of emotion. “I love you,” she says, her voice steady and sure. And in that moment, you know that Zatanna Zatara’s love is as magical and eternal as the spells she weaves.

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