#even Annabelle was surprised | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

celandeline · 7 months

Text

Because We’re Doing This For the Thrill of It

Farleigh x Reader SMUT, sequel to Not Your Boyfriend, Baby, tw for cheating and being cheated on, you know the deal

part one

Felix’s hands on your hips keep you pressed to him as you dance, your back pressed against his chest as you dance, the music pounding through the club keeping time with your heartbeat. The smell of sweat, vodka and cigarettes invades your nostrils, but you’re too drunk to care about the stench, too focused on the scene in front of you.

It’s been two weeks since you fucked Farleigh, and you don’t think his eyes have left you for more than a few seconds the whole time.

India grinds against Farleigh, one hand wound up around his neck for leverage as she clumsily dances, eyes closed. You couldn’t care less about her. Your eyes are locked on Farleigh’s, the green/blue lights of the club painting him in unusual colors, making him all the more entrancing to look at. The top few buttons of his shirt hang open, and you can see where some of India’s body glitter has rubbed off on him, catching the light and reflecting it away. He lazily dances, that perpetual air of boredom hanging around him even in the midst of the club - you get the sense that he’s just humoring India for something to do at this point. After all, he hasn’t even spared her a glance in the past five songs.

You smile at him as you dance, wishing that it was his hands on your hips instead of Felix’s - but at the same time, this is fun too. Watching him watch you, knowing that he couldn’t care less about the girl that he’s with. Knowing that he’s thinking the same things about you. It’s intoxicating - more so than the green tea shots you’ve been downing.

Felix leans down, his nose dipping into the crook of your neck, breathing heavy. A bead of sweat drips from his face onto you, and you tip your head back onto his shoulder, eyes still locked on Farleigh. You watch him wrap his lips around a cigarette as Felix’s voice booms in your ear.

“Come do a line with me?”

You nod against his skin, and let him steer you off the dancefloor, through the crowd and towards the bathrooms at the back of the club, leaving the rest of your group on the dancefloor. You toss a look over your shoulder as Felix takes your hand, and find Farleigh again. He smiles around his cigarette as you throw him a gaudy wink before the crowd shifts and you lose him from your sight.

Felix leads the way, tugging you along behind him until you reach a quiet corner of the club near the very back. You grin up at him as he digs out a little baggy from his pocket and hold up your forearm for him to shake a line out on. His eyes meet yours as he runs his nose along your skin, the cocaine disappearing and a line of goosebumps rising in its wake. He inhales sharply, blinking a few times as he scrunches up his nose. “Here.”

He passes the baggy to you and holds out the palm of his hand. You shake out a line and quickly hoover it up, almost nuzzling into Felix’s palm as you do. He always offers you the palm of his hand for that reason you think - he likes to watch you eat out of it. He likes to watch everyone eat out of it. He gets off on being a white knight - you’ve seen it a million times.

You hand the little baggy back and watch him tuck it back in his pocket, his pupils already starting to dilate as the coke sinks in. You watch him watch you, and you can see in his eyes what he’s about to do before he does it, so it’s no surprise when he roughly grabs you by the jaw and kisses you, too much teeth and tongue to be really loving in any sense of the word.

It’s nothing like how Farleigh kissed you. Farleigh kissed you like he loves you. You bite Felix back.

He laughs when he pulls away, and grabs you by the hand again to drag you back to the dancefloor. You follow along in his wake as the crowd parts for him until you’re back where you started. India and Annabel pull Felix back into the throng, smiling up at him with that familiar hunger in their eyes as he lets go of your hand in exchange for theirs. You let Felix’s sweaty palm slide out of yours without protest. Let them have him - your eyes scan past Jack and Oliver as you look for who you really want to be here with.

He finds you first, grabbing your wrist and spinning you around to drop down to his knees, comedically sexy, holding onto your hand for leverage as he shakes his ass. You laugh, even though you can only barely hear yourself above the music, and he stands back up grinning at you, cigarette trailing smoke like a halo around his head. He doesn’t let go of your hand as you start to dance. He keeps it friendly, just in case Felix glances over, which you appreciate. To the common observer, you’re nothing but friends.

The way he looks at you is anything but friendly.

Playfully, you pluck Farleigh’s cigarette out from between his fingers and tuck it between your lips, a pseudo-kiss. He watches you take a long drag, and bats away the smoke that you blow into his face with a dry smile before he steals the cigarette back. Still dancing, you spin around, facing the rest of the group again.

The first thing you see is India’s hand skirting up Felix’s shirt and the way her eyes are half-lidded as she looks up at him. He doesn’t seem to care too much though - he’s too busy swapping spit with Annabel, his tongue bullying its way into her mouth. Your lips curl in disgust before you can stop them - you really hope that's not what it looks like when he kisses you.

Maybe it’s the vodka, maybe it's the coke, maybe it’s the culmination of the months of watching him do this to you, but you’re really not in the mood to just let it slide tonight. You’re standing not even two meters away - he can’t think you wouldn’t have noticed? You turn back around to Farleigh, and grab his hand, tugging him back towards where you and Felix had hidden away before. He doesn’t protest, his eyes flicking between India and you before he follows along.

The crowd doesn’t part as easily for you as it had for Felix, so it takes you longer to find your way back into the recesses of the club, amidst the more debaucherous partygoers - you breeze past a couple very obviously about to fuck against the wall, a group of people gathered around a table taking turns doing lines and a girl in tears as she storms away from the bathrooms with her phone wedged between her shoulder and her ear. Pushing past them all you pull open the door to the mensroom and pull Farleigh inside.

He grins at you, obviously amused. “Someone’s pissed.”

You roll your eyes, and push open the door to the stall at the very end of the row. “You wanna fuck or not?”

Farleigh raises his hands in surrender, and walks into the stall, still grinning. You follow him in, and slide the lock into place behind you, even though you’re fairly confident you’ll be uninterrupted. If it were the women's room you’d chosen, there would be no way in hell you could get away with this - too many drunk girls crying in the mirror - but the mens room is blissfully empty. Farleigh still looks like he’s about to laugh.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You say, pushing him against the wall and starting on the buttons of his shirt, picking up where India left off.

“I’m sorry.” He says, not really sounding sorry at all. “It’s just - you said that you didn’t care about the cheating, but it looks like-”

“I don’t.” You insist. And you don’t in the sense that you couldn’t care less about Felix being faithful. He’s never going to hurt your feelings by choosing someone else over you when the only reason you’re with him in the first place is to live off of his excesses free of charge. But you care in the sense that he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. He wasn’t even two meters away from you with his tongue down Annabel's throat. He surely can’t think you’re that fucking stupid.

“It seems like you do.” Farleigh slips his hand under the hem of your dress, pushing the glittery fabric up until it’s above your hips. He trails a finger under the lace band of your underwear, playing with the elastic.

“He was not even two fucking meters away.” You say, undoing Farleigh’s belt, and then moving to the button of his trousers. “It’s like he thinks I’m actually stupid.”

“I thought that was what you wanted?” He teases. “I mean, I thought that was the point of pretending that you don’t know he’s cheating on you.”

You push Farleigh’s trousers down his legs, and start to palm him through his boxers. “There’s a line.” You say. “Like, yes, I want him to think I’m a little stupid so he doesn’t figure out that I don’t actually like him, but this is just insulting. I’m not blind.”

He tips his head back against the wall, watching you through half-lidded eyes as you work him to full hardness over his boxers. You take the opportunity to attach yourself to his neck, kissing over the same spots you had before, renewing the mostly faded marks. You never asked him if India noticed - or if she cared. Judging by the way she was dancing on him earlier, it didn’t even register. Not that she has room to talk really, with how she was feeling up Felix in front of you.

“Why do you care anyway?” You ask against his neck. “Me being pissed at Felix is a good thing for you.”

“Why do I care if you’re upset?” He drawls, sarcastic, looking down at you. “Beats me.”

The implication hangs heavy in the air, and you pull back from his neck to look up at him. “Farleigh.” When you’d joked about it two weeks ago, when you fucked, it was just that - joking. You didn’t think he actually cared about you as anything more than friends-

He leans down to kiss you - soft, tender - everything that Felix isn’t. Your hands wander to his hips, and then up the sides of his stomach, trailing your nails along his skin to make him shiver. You slip your tongue into his mouth and he groans, his fingers dipping beneath the band of your underwear to push them down your legs. You step out of one side, and let them hang on your ankle.

When he pulls back, a string of spit dangles between your lips. You can’t tell if it’s yours or his. His pupils are blown wide, and he looks at you in the way that Felix used to when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. It makes something flutter in your stomach - something you haven’t felt in a really long time.

He starts to say something, but you stop him, scared that it might be too vulnerable, too tender. Tracing your finger along the column of his throat, you drop your voice into a sultry whisper. “Fuck me against this wall Farleigh.”

You see him twitch in his boxers as he shuffles you around so that your back is up against the cinderblocks. He dips a hand into his waistband to pull his dick out, a bead of precum already collected at the tip. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he places his hands under your thighs, and work with him as he lifts you so that your hips meet his. The cinderblocks scratch the skin of your back that your dress doesn’t cover, but you don’t care - it barely registers, your body thrumming with the coke you did earlier and need.

You dip a hand down to find his cock and line it up, pressing the tip against your entrance. You watch his eyelids flutter at the simple touch, and smile. He tucks his head into the crook of your shoulder as he pushes in, and the moan that leaves his lips trickles right into your ear. The stretch doesn’t even burn this time, and pleasure shoots through you when he bottoms out, reaching that spot inside you that Felix can never seem to find. You let out a sigh, and press your lips to the side of his neck, tounging at the shell of his ear.

Farleigh gives a few experimental thrusts, readjusts his grip on you, and then begins to snap his hips against yours in the way that you’ve been craving since the first time you had him. You have no idea how India can still want Felix after having Farleigh - after having this. The way he pants and whines and groans as he fucks you makes the feeling a thousand times more potent, and you take the opportunity to wind a hand into his curls, tugging his head out of your neck so that you can look at him.

Lips still spit-slick from before, he presses them against yours hungrily. You swallow up his moans as soon as they leave his lips, trading them for your own as he forces choked little sounds out of you with each snap of his hips into yours. His fingers dig into the backs of your thighs like he’s trying to leave a bruise there on purpose. If you were more sober, you’d tell him off for it - but you can’t bring yourself to care. Felix wasn’t even two meters away when he’d stuck his tongue down Annabel's throat.

Farleigh pulls away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours, watching his cock slide in and out of you. “Fuck.”

You cast your eyes down to follow his, and the sight makes you clench, causing Farleigh to groan, his eyes rolling up into his skull for a split second.

He drops his head back into your shoulder, leaning so that your chests are pressed together, breathing heavy. “Don’t do that, I’ll cum.”

“I want you to cum.” You say, running your fingers up and down his spine, savoring the feeling of his warm skin under your touch.

“Fuck.” He keens, mouthing at your shoulder. “You can’t just say-” He cuts himself off with a moan as you clench again - this time on purpose. “Stop. I want you to cum first, I came too quick last time.” He breathes, sounding absolutely debauched.

“Farleigh.” You clench again, not on purpose, as heat rushes through you. You busy yourself with pressing wet kisses against the side of his face and neck as he fucks you, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he wants you to cum first. He’s putting your pleasure before his, something Felix has never done - and likely will never do. You picked the wrong cousin. You’re sure of it now - even though being with Felix has elevated you to a status you could have never reached before.

Fuck.

Spurred on by the fact that he actually cares about your feelings, the coil of heat in your gut tightens. You grip onto his shoulders tighter, mouthing at his collarbone to try and ignore the fact that he cared when you seemed upset and that he wants you to cum first since he did last time is making you feel a particular way.

He doesn’t have to worry about making you cum first, because you do, muffling your moan into his shoulder as you tense in his grip, pleasure shooting through you, hot and tingly. “Farleigh-!”

He presses his lips to yours, muffling the moan that escapes from him as his thrusts lose their rhythm. You kiss him back with everything you have, and wind a hand into his hair, holding him close to you as he pants and whines as he cums, high pitched and breathy against your neck. “Oh fuck, fuck-” He keens. “Mm, you’re so good, you’re so good, love you-”

“Farleigh?”

The cold touch of death shoots up your spine as Felix’s voice rings through the bathroom. You hadn’t heard the door open, you have no idea how long he’s been standing there. Still panting, Farleigh lifts his face out of your shoulder, wide eyes locking with yours. Hurriedly, he pulls out, stuffing his softening dick back into his boxers and pulling his trousers back up his thighs. You slip your underwear back into place and push your dress down, strangely calm. You should be panicking - Farleigh’s panicking, you can see it - but you’re not. Startled, sure, but panicked? No. You’ve known this was going to happen eventually.

You slide the lock in the stall door, and pull it open, coming face to face with your boyfriend.

He’s pissed - brow drawn tight, mouth tilted down into a tight frown, nostrils flared like he’s ready to fight. “What the hell is all this then?” He says, glancing between you and Farleigh. His eyes fall on you. “You’re cheating on me with my own fucking cousin?!” His gaze shifts back up to Farleigh. “And you’re fucking my girl- I thought we were mates, Farleigh. Family. I can’t fucking-”

You cut him off with an incredulous laugh that echoes around the tiled room. “What can’t you fucking believe, Felix?” You say, the anger you felt from earlier coming back full force. “That I finally am cheating on you back?”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look at you, his eyes still locked with Farleigh’s. He doesn’t even have the decency to be ashamed at all, too full of self-righteous anger to realize what a massive hypocrite he is. And you’re fucking sick of it.

Reaching up, you grab his jaw, forcing him to look at you, uncaring about the way your nails dig into the skin of his cheeks. He might be mad, but you’re enraged, filled with months of resentment like a thousand bullets.

“I’ve known the whole fucking time.” You spit. “You’re not slick, you know, but I let it slide because you’re Felix Catton and Felix does what he wants, whenever he wants to and never suffers the consequences.” You sing-song. “I knew what I was signing up for when I said yes when you asked me out.”

“Sue me for wanting to enjoy my university years.” He says. “It’s different-”

“How?” You cut him off, searching his eyes. “Because it doesn't seem different to me at all. To me, it seems like you can dish it out, but you can't take it.”

He exhales, anger steaming from his breath. “Fuck you.”

You mockingly pout, pulling him closer by the jaw. “What are you going to do, break up with me?” You taunt. “What then? Who’ll protect that golden good boy image you work so hard to curate for your parents? Golden good boy Felix needs a girlfriend, or else Mummy and Daddy will find one for him, right? Or are you finally going to come out to them as a slag?” You tilt your head, waiting for him to respond.

You know he won't do it - he uses you as a shield from his parents expectations, that was half the reason he asked you out in the first place. You keep them off his back, and in return you get to live the life of a rich girl. That’s the deal, and he cares too much about his end of the bargain to let you go.

He rips his face out of your hold, still scowling. He glances once more at Farleigh before angrily stalking away, the door to the bathroom slamming as he leaves.

You let out a long breath, expelling the last dredges of anger from your system before you turn around to face Farleigh. “I’m sorry for dragging you into-”

“I love you.”

He says it too loud, it bounces around the tiled room before it finds its way back to your ears. Your gut flutters. “Farleigh.” You say, pursing your lips.

He closes the distance between you, kissing you like he wants to go for another round. “I’ve had fantasies about calling Felix out for being a bitch for years - mm - and you - mm - he can’t even do anything back to you.”

“That doesn’t - ah - mean that you love me-”

“I can’t stand that you let him fuck you.” He confesses, backing you up against the wall again. You watch him sink to his knees, pulling your underwear back down and pushing your dress up again in the same motion, wide brown eyes looking up at you in sheer admiration. “I get so jealous-”

“That doesn’t mean you love me either.” You gasp as he starts to kiss your thighs.

He sits back on his heels, looking up at you with such vulnerability and sincerity that you find yourself almost uncomfortable. “I care about you, and that’s close enough for me.”

It’s not ‘I love you’ but it is at the same time. He cares about you.

“I care about you.” You say. “Too.” And it’s true, you do. From the moment Felix introduced you, you’d thought he was interesting, and the feeling had only grown the more you’d gotten to know him. He’s smart, and funny, and a bitch in the same way that you are, and kisses you like he cares. Because he does.

Farleigh grins against your thigh, pressing another kiss to the sensitive skin. “I know.”

A moment of loving silence passes between you, and your gut flutters again.

“I still can’t believe you said all that to his face, that was so fucking hot.” Farleigh breaks the silence, nosing between your legs eagerly.

You just laugh, and let him in.

#farleigh start #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #saltburn #saltburn x reader #farleigh start smut #saltburn smut

609 notes · View notes

wonysugar · 1 month

Text

self indulgent drabble because 1. writer’s block is truly eating my ass and 2. i just got struck with an idea as i heard an audio and i need to get it out of my system before i lose my motivation.. AND WHAT BETTER WAY TO DO THAT THAN WITH BELLEEE?!?

cw!! cheating(??) just to be safe, fem!reader is dating someone that’s amab! mentions of threesomes, lots, lots of dick mentions and dick sucking, if you don’t like dick at all this isn’t for you i’m really sorry</3

psst, by the way, p/n stands for partner name!

you and your partner have an amazing relationship, and an even better sex life, that much was obvious. although you both were content, you couldn’t help but feel the desire to improve your technique in certain.. aspects, of your love-making, mainly in terms of oral sex.

google was definitely not helping, and you were a bit too embarrassed to go and ask your significant other on feedback after having sex with them (despite how normal that actually is, contrary to popular belief.)

so, naturally, receiving your friend annabelle in your apartment a few days after having scheduled a, in her wise words, ‘important meeting’ wasn’t at all a surprise for you, especially since you made sure that p/n wasn’t at home at that time.

“hii!” belle stepped foot into your home as soon as you opened the door, immediately giving you a warm hug, thankful you even called her in here in the first place.

after politely offering her a cup of water and a bowl of snacks as thanks, she quickly got to work.

“alright, you were too nervous to explain it through text, so go ahead. what are the specifics here?” she asked, comically very serious about this whole thing.

you sighed, feeling the embarrassment leaving with each breath you exhaled, “it’s just— i think i have a problem when it comes to… you know.. my gag reflex, and all.”

“ah, i see..” she hummed, “‘problem’ is definitely a strong word though, no? oral sex isn’t a requirement, you know that better than anyone else, considering you’ve been with your partner for a while with no issues. i’m assuming you just want to learn to get them more riled up, huh?”

you stared, almost innocently, then nodded at the words.

“have you ever sucked dick before?” she continued, speaking as if this were a real professional appointment.

she chuckled upon seeing you reluctantly shake your head, “don’t worry sweetheart, by the time that we’re done, you’ll be able to take cock better than any porn star has.”

reaching for her large, seemingly filled-up backpack you had noticed her holding whilst walking in before digging into it. after a few seconds of anticipation, you saw your friend pull out a medium sized dildo, a slightly longer one and a much larger and more girthy than the previous ones.

“y-you brought stuff!?”

noticing how your blood rushed to your now fully covered face, she giggled, “of course i brought stuff y/n, i don’t think you realize how serious i’m actually taking this.” proceeding to pull out one more interesting looking item, “come on, you asked me for help, right? no need to get embarrassed now, girl.”

so you listened, and watched as she finished up preparing the materials, placing them in a line.

“alright, listen up.” she zipped the bag closed, threw it somewhere on the couch you two were sat on and sat up straight, motioning for you to do the same, and pointed to the first thing, “this is throat relaxant spray, like the name suggests, it relaxes your throat and your gag reflex, making it easier. now, i don’t really use it considering my gag reflex is practically non-existent,” you nodded at her words, your eyes fixed on said spray.

“but i did bring it thinking you’d maybe wanna start off slow just to be safe? maybe get used to the feeling of it in your mouth before going in raw and everything, but it’s honestly all up to you and what you wanna do.”

several minutes of her overexplaining the reasoning behind bringing each sanitized and differently sized dildo later, you eventually chose the format you found most similar to your partner’s and decided to opt out of the relaxant spray, much to annabelle’s pleasant surprise.

it didn’t take long before she stuck the phallic object to your wall and instructed you to suck on it the same way you would any other day. “don’t be nervous, i’m here to help.” she said, and that was somehow enough to put you at ease.

you began to do what you were told, fully aware that her attention was set on you, and you only. your lips wrapped around the head, you sucked and left gentle kisses whilst she watched you work your magic on the dildo. you heard occasional hums from beside you as you kept your mouth around the same area of the dick.

“you’re doing good, but, aren’t you spending a little bit too much time on the head?” she placed, making you pull away from the object before you, “i know you’ll gag, but try to give some attention to the entirety of the dick. here, let me show you.”

she scooted towards you, and you simply stared at her, “oh— we’re using the same.. dildo?”

“..yeah? it’s just a little spit.” her lips formed a smirk, “just watch me, okay?”

you nodded and sat there, watching her demonstrate her blowjob technique and feeling yourself get… weirdly turned on by the sight, instead of feeling ‘taught’, in a sense. the way she slowly worked her way up from kissing and licking the head to fitting the entire shaft into her mouth, almost effortlessly, got you thinking about how she’d give your partner head, guiding you on how to pleasure them further than you usually do— alright let’s not get ridiculous, you internally scolded yourself, leave the dirty fantasies for later, when you aren’t trying to learn from her.

“see how i did that? you can’t just focus on the head forever, that’s why i like to slightly pump the shaft with my hand whenever i’m not throating.”

“honestly just sounds like you’re just trying to brag, at this point.” you joked, faking an annoyed expression. that earned a laugh from her.

then, after a constant cycle that consisted of her explaining things and you doing them, annabelle had taken the dildo off of the wall whilst wearing a mischievous expression on her face. “now, let’s kick things up a notch; get on your knees.”

your eyebrows furrowed and eyes widened ever so slightly at her words, you stuttered, “excuse… excuse me?—“

“i said, get on your knees.”

and despite getting no further explanations, you still, for some unknown reason, did exactly as you were told. now sitting on the ground facing the sofa, you waited for further instructions.

“you need to get immersed.” she paused, then held up the dildo, “so, i’ll hold it for you and thrust it into your mouth while you suck it, alright? i won’t go fast or anything, so don’t worry about that.”

and of course, you obliged.

upon her signal, you immediately applied everything that she’s been teaching you throughout this entire session onto your technique, fueled by her occasional praise.

“remember to use your tongue, y/n.” she reminded, thrusting the cock in and out of your mouth, slowly, watching you as if she could feel it.

“suck the tip and—“ you bobbed your head down onto the shaft, taking in as much length as you could without gagging. “—work your way down, that’s it baby, slowly.”

oh man, that pet name definitely elicited a reaction from you that you did not expect; you felt butterflies in your stomach, almost certain that a pool was growing in between your legs.

she definitely noticed it, too. how could she miss it when you’re looking up at her like she was the one you were sucking off?

“awe, you’re getting excited, aren’t you?” she bit her lip as she tucked your hair behind your ear, “such an eager girl, suck on it baby.”

she let out quiet, airy moans as you worked your magic, in hopes to get you more and more immersed, and while it did, it also did nothing but get you riled up to a great extent. hell, you were practically drooling onto her— the cock at that point. “look at you, not even a few hours in and you’re already doing so good. mmh, you look so pretty taking it, too.”

that went on for a while, and what she didn’t tell you was that that dildo in particular, was an ejaculating one, you found that out by yourself later on.

needless to say, you felt especially different when you eventually walked her out of your apartment an hour later, and she couldn’t help but notice how still visibly embarrassed you were from that weirdly intimate interaction, but she found it amusing, endearing, almost.

“next time, you’ll invite p/n to tag along, won’t you?”

#smut #kpop gg #female reader #kiss of life smut #belle kiss of life smut #annabelle shim #belle x female reader #annabelle shim x female reader #shim hyewon x female reader #shim hyewon smut #kiof belle smut #kiof belle x female reader

156 notes · View notes

jamespotterismydaddy · 9 months

Text

So Pretty

michael gavey x partygirl!reader

A/N: had multiple requests for this!

TW: SMUT, dom!reader, leg humping

word count: 1,569 words

You’re about 5 drinks in when you notice the nerd hanging out in the corner of the party.

He’s cute. You think to yourself, even if you’re wondering how he even got in here because there’s no way in hell Annabelle invited him. Oliver is best friends with Felix and even he didn’t get an invite. You stand there for a moment, trying to decide if he’s cute enough to talk to. You do think you know his name, Mitchell or Marshal or whatever. Boredom ends up being reason enough.

“It’s um… Mitchell, right?” You ask after you’ve made your way over to him. His cheeks go bright red. There’s no way you’re talking to him.

“Michael.” He mumbles.

“Oh sorry, Michael baby. How’d you get in here anyway?”

This is it. He thinks. I’m getting kicked out.

“Isn’t it uh open invite?” He makes up on the spot.

“Yeah Annabelle doesn’t do ‘open invite’.” You shake your head with a bit of a cheeky grin on your face. You may be a little tipsy.

“Fine, sorry. I’ll leave.” He looks a little embarrassed, a little annoyed too as he moves to go around you and to the door.

You place a dainty hand on his chest and push him to the wall with surprising force.

“I don’t remember saying I wanted you to leave.”

“I-I… why not?” He stutters.

“Maybe I like talking to you.” You draw your fingertip around his collar.

“Nobody likes talking to me.” His face is the colour of a strawberry because of how close you are… how pretty you are.

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” You giggle.

“Not very good at what?” He asks bluntly.

“Flirting.” His jaw nearly drops.

“You’re flirting with me?” You didn’t think his face could get redder but it somehow does.

“Am I not making it very obvious?” You ask very sweetly. “I’ll try a little harder then.” And by ‘trying a little harder’ you mean slipping a leg between his.

“What are you-” His words are cut off by a groan as you rub his groin with your thigh.

“I’m flirting.” You say cheekily as you continue to rub, feeling his cock start to harden. His hands stay firmly at his sides as if he’s nervous to touch you, to react.

“You can’t… if you keep going…” He trains off and you quickly realize what he was trying to say.

“Are you really about to cum already?” You tease and retract your leg.

“Wait.” He whimpers before he can think about what he’s asking for.

“You want me to keep going? Let you hump my leg until you cum in your pants… in front of everybody?” That makes him look around a bit nervously but nobody is actually watching the two of you. “Are you really that pent up?”

“You started it.” He murmurs, feeling quite embarrassed now.

“I did start it.” You agree and then go up on your tip toes to whisper in his ear. “How about we go to the bathroom and finish it?”

“But i’ve never - I um…” He trips over his words, kicking himself because it seems like he’s trying to talk you out of it.

“It’s okay. I’ll show you, if you want.” You give him a reassuring smile.

“Y-Yeah, i’d like that.” He matches your smile (which is quite cute) and lets you take him by the hand. The nearest washroom is… occupied so you take him to one a little bit further from the party.

“Here alright?” You ask as you lock the door behind him. “We can always go to my dorm if you’d prefer that?”

“No! I mean no. I’m ready now.” He says, not wanting you to change your mind. “You’re really pretty.” He speaks a bit slower now. He’s never had a girl show interest in him like this before.

“I think you’re really pretty too.” You reply before leaning in to kiss him. He’s very clearly inexperienced but you don’t mind. You enjoy the kiss anyhow.

Your hands run over his body and his hands settle gently on your waist. Your touch moves down to his trousers and you begin to palm him through his pants. He moans into your mouth and you swallow the sweet sounds.

You part your mouth from his. “Can I suck you off?” He almost cums from the question alone but nods rapidly so you begin to lower yourself to your knees.

“Wait!” He stops you so you rise up to your feet. He takes off his sweater and lays it on the tiles. “Floors dirty.” Is his only explanation and your heart almost bursts. You’re going to give this man the best blowjob of his life.

“You’re sweet.” You say as you get on your knees before him, unbuckling his belt.

He looks a little flustered at the compliment and then even more so when you take him out of his pants. He’s big, very big.

It’s always the lanky nerds. You think to yourself as you take his length in your hand. You keep eye contact as you press a kiss to the head, making him take a sharp breath. You then let him into your mouth, sucking gently so he doesn’t blow his load right away.

“Oh, god.” He moans as he places a hand on your head so he can play with your hair rather than guiding you. “You’re so so pretty.”

You take him in deeper, bringing a hand up to help you as you feel him touch the back of your throat. The deepthroating seems to make him go a little crazy and he grips your hair tighter.

“Sorry.” He apologizes breathlessly, his words fading away as you suck him harder. He tries to hold off, he really does, but it’s all clearly too much for him as he starts twitching in your mouth. He attempts to pull you off him but you don’t allow him to, giving a look from under your pretty lashes that tells him exactly what you want. He spills in your mouth with a moan of your name and you finally pull your head off so you can swallow. He’s more than mesmerized.

“How was that?”

“R-Really good. Thank you.” You giggle when he thanks you.

“You wanna fuck me now?” You ask in your most sensual voice.

“Can I eat you out?” He asks quickly, like he had been thinking about it.

You’re a little surprised but you stand back up. “I think i’d like that.”

“Good, um.” He gets on his knees right away. “I’m not sure how but I promise i’m a quick learner.” He says as if he’s still trying to convince you to say yes.

“Don’t worry, I believe you.” You smile at him, running your fingers through his hair before bunching up your tight dress around your waist. The sight of your skimpy little panties is all it takes for him to get hard again. “You can take those off.”

He grins before reaching for the hem of your underwear and starting to pull them down slowly. He’s breathing heavily, looking focused like you’ve never seen before. When he reveals your glistening pussy, he lets out a low groan.

“You’re so pretty.”

“You might have said that once or twice.” You tease as he takes them off fully. He looks up at you for instruction. “Just do what feels right and i’ll guide you from there.”

He nods and looks at your pussy again, surprising you when he lifts your left leg and places it over your shoulder so he has better access. You lean back on the counter as he presses a light kiss to your clit and then one right to your opening. He continues to press little kisses all around, licking a little like he’s trying to drink in your arousal as much as he can.

“Focus here.” You say as you rub your clit slightly to show him what you like and he begins to suckle on it.

His left hand grips your thigh as you notice his right go down to stroke his cock.

“Nuh uh.” You tilt his chin up. “Those hands are for me.”

He nods obediently and has no complaints as he lifts his fingers to your entrance. He looks up for your approval and when it’s granted, he slips two fingers in.

“Curl them. That’s the spot you want to hit each time.” He takes your advice seriously and starts to finger you as he tongues your clit. He continues for a few minutes, eating you slowly before you notice him rubbing himself against your leg. You find it more arousing than anything so you let him continue.

“Mmm i’m close, Michael.” You whimper as you tug on his hair, feeling him start to rub his cock against you faster as he coaxes you closer.

With another moan, you finish on his tongue and he laps it up before cumming on the floor.

“What a naughty boy.” You tease as he looks up at you, embarrassed.

“Sorry.” He looks down.

Jesus, Michael. Humping her leg like a bloody dog?

“No more apologies. I don’t think i’ve ever cum so hard in my life.”

“Really?” He asks with a grin.

“Really.” You say before leaning down to kiss him.

Hitting on Michael Gavey might’ve been the best decision you’ve ever made.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 7 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi i

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey #saltburn smut #saltburn

1K notes · View notes

blacknedsoul-blog · 10 months

Text

An incessantly detailed analysis of the (re)encounter between Annabel and "Leo"

So I was writing something related to that scene and I wanted to share a detail that I love. From what we know about Lenore, yes, she knows that Annabel is lying when she says that their whole friendship was a con, but from there to Annabel wanting to be part of this fraud, it's a pretty big stretch.

So in this scene, Lenore makes a bet with her heart on the line (she has nothing more to lose anyway). So she introduces herself to Annabel and gets… this face.

Annabel tries to pull her hand away, obviously in shock, but Lenore won't let her (possibly thinking how suspicious the situation would be) and greets her like a gentleman. This is not a good prognosis for how Annabel feels about this at all.

I like to think that the reason Lenore speaks to him in such a nonchalant manner is because she notices that Annabel is not reacting at all and wants to divert Ira's attention.

So she steers the conversation to the thing that brings her here: she will try to win her hand, and that is what she communicates to her with that sentence. Lenore has laid her cards on the table. This is the moment when Annabel can either accept or reject the absolute madness that Lenore is proposing.

And Annabel's answer is …

I love Lenore's shocked little face at this point, like, girl, I know Annabel has nerves of steel, but you broke her with this.

As she's fanning her on the floor, you can see Lenore's expression start to shift from confusion to panic: maybe she's starting to doubt that this was all a good idea.

Annabel comes to, and to Lenore's surprise (who at this point must be wondering what the hell to do), not only does she start playing along, she smiles at her and even lets herself touch her.

Look at that smile! This woman must be throwing confetti in her head: they haven't said a word to each other, but she can see that Annabel is okay with it, and at this point, at least, that's all she could ask for.

So he allows herself to flirt a little, and Annabel blushes when she does! If Lenore had any doubt that she was being reciprocated, she can now breathe a sigh of relief.

At this point, neither of them knows exactly what the future holds for them, but at least they know they're in it together. The scene ends at the exact moment when, if Annabel was already in love with Lenore, she is now definitely eating out of her hand:

It's just a beautiful scene. You have to enjoy it (especially when the current situation suggests that we won't have one of these for a while).

#nevermore webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #lenore nevermore #white raven #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee whitlock #annabel lee x lenore #lennabel #I laugh to myself just thinking about the mental cocoa they both had in their heads at this moment #They are so cute when they are not inadvertently trampling on each other's plans

591 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 2 months

Text

Our Little Secret (Part 64)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

An hour later, and after Cillian had put Mara to bed, you sat down on the couch and opened a bottle of wine. You were feeling a bit anxious about the upcoming intimate scene between Cillian and Annabelle, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had been brewing inside of you since you had left the restaurant. You knew that you had no reason to feel that way. Even if there was something between Cillian and his costar, it was really none of your business.

As if sensing your discomfort though, Cillian sat down beside you, filling himself up a glass of red as well. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, looking at you with concern.

You took a deep breath before turning to him. "It's nothing, really," you said, trying to suppress the emotions churning inside you, but Cillian knew that something was bothering you. He took a sip of his wine before setting the glass down on the coffee table and leaned towards you.

"What is it?" he asked, putting a comforting hand on your shoulders.

You hesitated for a moment before confessing the events that had taken place at dinner that evening. "It's just that...," you began but stopped yourself. "I don't know. I had to think about that article recently and I was wondering whether, you know, never mind," you said, your voice trailing off as you looked away from him.

Cillian's grip on your shoulder tightened slightly. "No, what is it?" he asked, his voice soft yet insistent.

"Well, it is just about that article in the Irish Times, where it said that you and Annabelle had an affair back in 2014 while you were married to Danielle and, after meeting her, I am still wondering whether there was some truth to it," you finally admitted in a low voice, pressing your lips together in a tight line.

"What?" Cillian chuckled, pulling away slightly as he stared at you with disbelief. "What makes you think that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at you in amusement.

"Did you not notice her flirting with you all evening?" you asked, unable to hide the incredulity in your voice.

"Flirting with me?" Cillian looked surprised. "You mean her comment about my eyes?" he asked, a puzzled expression on his face. "That wasn't flirting, Y/N. She was just making a joke. I can assure you that there has never been anything between her and me, other than a professional relationship. We worked together on a show and that's it," he said, his voice steady and sincere before pausing slightly. "Also, I don't know why you even care, because we aren't together anymore, so...," Cillian sighed heavily, taking a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts just before you continued, asking him another question.

"How does this work, with the intimate scenes and all?" you asked, feeling your nerves getting the better of you as you tried to make sense of the things you were feeling.

Cillian took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead as if weary. "Uhm, what do you mean?" Cillian asked, looking taken aback by the abrupt change in topic.

"You know, with scenes and stuff," you stated, gesturing vaguely with your hand.

Cillian gave you a puzzled look. "No I don't know. What's your question?" he wanted to know, trying not to appear annoyed.

"Do you actually kiss her, like properly? And touch her? I mean, if you do, I am not really surprised that she thinks that...," you trailed off, causing Cillian to interrupt.

"Listen Y/N, these scenes are awkward at best. They are the most uncomfortable scenes to film, and I don't actually think that any actor enjoys doing them," Cillian sighed, setting his wine glass down on the table before leaning forward in his seat to face you. "And yes, my character kisses her character. There is some touching too, but it means absolutely nothing, because it is all part of an act and nothing more," Cillian continued as you took a big sip from your glass.

"Come on though, you can't tell me that you don't enjoy kissing a really pretty woman like her," you replied, a bit of playful sass in your voice, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, I don't," Cillian said with a deadpan expression on his face. "It's awkward as fuck and she is not really my type,"

he added with a slight chuckle. "Trust me, filming those scenes is as unenjoyable as it sounds."

You took another sip of your wine, nodding slowly in agreement. "Alright, I get it," you finally admitted, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I am sorry that I asked, but it just had me wondering because the way she was looking at you tonight... I don't know, I guess I just had to ask," you explained, shrugging slightly as you looked down at your hands.

Cillian let out a sigh before responding. "Because you are jealous?" Cillian asked softly, his eyes never leaving your face.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "No," you finally said, shaking your head. "Well, maybe just a little." You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea, but seeing her looking at you like that brought back a lot of memories and I guess I just couldn't help but feel...weird?"

Cillian raised an eyebrow at you. "Weird?" he repeated, sounding amused.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, weird. Like I still care about you. A lot."

"Right," Cillian tilted his head, a curious expression gracing his features. He took a slow sip of his drink while eyeing you thoughtfully. "Do you still love me?" Cillian asked, setting down his wine glass as his eyes locked onto yours.

"Yes," you admitted softly, unable to tear your gaze away from his. "I guess I do still love you, Cillian and I miss being with you, so fucking much," you confessed, your voice cracking slightly with emotion. "I just want to go back to the way things used to be, the way it was between us before everything fell apart."

Cillian swallowed hard at your words, his eyes softening with understanding. "I know what you mean," he replied, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I miss it too. I miss being with you, talking with you, sleeping next to you. I miss everything about us," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours.

You took a deep breath, feeling your heart racing at his words. You missed him too, all of those little moments you used to share, the stolen kisses, the way he would always wrap his arms around you protectively, making you feel cherished and loved.

"Do you think we could give us another chance?" you asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper, taking Cillian by surprise.

For months, he had begged you to take him back and now that you had finally brought it up, he found himself at a loss for words.

He looked at you, taking in your hopeful expression and the way your eyes seemed to dance with excitement. "Yes," he finally said, his voice barely audible. "You know I would do anything for you to give me another chance," he went on, his voice unsteady with emotion.

"Okay, I will give you another chance, but don't fuck it up," you said sternly, trying to keep the emotion out of your voice.

Before Cillian could respond, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss, your body molding against his as you let yourself get swept up in the moment.

"I love you," he whispered against your lips, his hands coming up to cup your face as he deepened the kiss, making you moan softly.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer still.

For several long moments, you lost yourself in the kiss, the taste and feel of Cillian driving any lingering doubts from your mind as you reconnected with a man you could never truly forget.

You didn't know if it was possible for things to be the same between the two of you again, but you wanted to try, and it seemed Cillian felt the same.

When you finally broke the kiss, you pulled back to gaze into his eyes, and there was a passionate intensity that made your heart race faster.

"I want us to live together as a family . Just you, me, and Mara. I want us to try and build a life together," you said, looking into his eyes with all the sincerity you possessed.

For a moment, Cillian simply stared at you, stunned by your sudden declaration, but then a slow smile spread over his face as he nodded in agreement.

"I thought you weren't ready for that?" he murmured, searching your face as if trying to gauge your certainty.

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before meeting his gaze evenly. "I wasn't then," you admitted truthfully. "But I am now. I want to try, Cillian. I want us to be a proper family, no matter what that entails."

Cillian stared at you for a moment longer, as if trying to determine whether or not you meant what you were saying, before he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace that spoke volumes.

"I want that too," he breathed into your hair, his arms tightening around you protectively.

The relief that washed over you in that moment was something you couldn't quite describe. For the longest time, you had longed for the kind of connection you had once shared with Cillian, feeling lost and adrift without that guiding force in your life, and now, finally, it seemed as though there was a chance to rebuild.

"Good," you smiled , burying your face in his neck as you pressed yourself closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you.

It was a bittersweet moment, knowing that there was still work to be done, but you felt a renewed sense of hope, taking solace in the fact that you would have him by your side as you navigated through the challenges ahead.

"Now show me how much you still want me!" you then told Cillian, pulling out of the kiss and looking at him with eyes that were so filled with desire that you could hardly contain yourself.

Cillian didn't need any further encouragement. He pulled you closer, his hands wandering over your body as he kissed you deeply, his lips hungry for yours.

"God, I've missed this. I've missed you," he whispered in between kisses, trailing them down your neck before reaching beneath your t-shirt to cupping your breasts over your bra.

You moaned softly, arching your back as you pulled him closer. "I want you so much," you breathed out, your voice hoarse with desire.

Cillian's hands wandered over your body and, before you knew it, he pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you in your bra and jeans.

His tongue trailed a hot path down your neck, before placing kisses across your collarbones.

Eventually, helped you slide your jeans off too, tossing them aside, leaving you in just your lace underwear. Cillian's hunger was evident in the way his hands and mouth greedily explored your body, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear with a hint of tease.

"Take this off," you told him, tucking at his t-shirt at the same time. Cillian obliged, pulling it off to reveal his toned chest, covered in soft curls of hair.

You couldn't help but let your gaze linger on him a little as your hands wandered over his bare skin, feeling the muscles twitch beneath your fingers.

Cillian groaned at the sensation of your exploring touch, his hips bucking sharply against yours as he pulled you closer.

Your lips found each other's again and you kissed him deeply, almost desperately, as if trying to make up for the lost time.

Not long after, his jeans came off too and he was left in just his briefs, his thick erection pressed against your thigh.

You couldn't help but moan softly at the sensation, a shiver of lust running down your spine as you realized just how much you needed this. The past months had been challenging, to say the least, but now, with Cillian, you felt as if you could finally breathe again.

"Fuck Y/N," Cillian groaned, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling your hips closer to his. "I want you so badly right now," he whispered, nipping at the skin of your neck as he unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor.

His hands wandered over your bare breasts, his thumbs grazing over your nipples, making you gasp at the sudden spark of pleasure that ran through your entire body.

You reached down, gripping his erection through the fabric of his briefs, making him growl low in his throat as his hips thrust forward.

"Jesus," Cillian breathed out, his fingers tightening on your hips.

"Let's just skip the foreplay for tonight. I really need to feel you inside me," you whispered into his ear, your hot breath making his cock twitch in anticipation.

Cillian groaned in response, pulling you even closer as he kissed you deeply. "Are you sure?" he asked against your lips, his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom lip. "Because you do know very well what my mouth can do."

"Yes, I am sure," you replied, tugging at the waistband of his briefs. "I really need your cock right now!"

Cillian didn't need any more encouragement. He quickly pulled the fabric of his briefs down and kicked it aside while you stood up and got rid of your panties quickly before climbing on top of him.

Your wetness brushed against the tip of his cock, making you let out a low moan before you positioned yourself above Cillian and slowly sank down on him.

"Oh fuck," Cillian groaned, his head falling back on the couch as you sheathed him fully inside of you. You let out a deep, shuddering groan of your own, relishing in the pleasure of being filled by him again.

You didn't waste any time. With one swift motion, you pushed yourself down, taking him all the way in.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian groaned, hands gripping your hips tightly.

You started to move up and down, savoring the feeling of his thick cock filling you up, the sensation of his skin sliding against yours, the sounds of his grunts and moans as you pleasured each other.

You rode him with abandon, the couch creaking and groaning with the force of your movements.

You could feel Cillian's cock hitting your deepest spots, again and again, in a rhythm that was both delicious and maddening.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," Cillian groaned, hands gripping your hips tighter as he bucked his hips up towards you.

You could only moan in agreement, the sound escaping your lips as you increased your pace. You could feel yourself getting close, the familiar tingling sensation starting to build in your lower belly.

"I am planning to do this every night from now on. Every fucking night!" you panted out, throwing your head back as you felt the beginnings of your orgasm building within you.

Cillian's fingers dug into your hips as he thrust upwards, matching your rhythm. "Yes, every fucking night," he agreed, his voice strained with lust.

You could feel his cock swelling inside you, telling you that he was close too. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you cried out, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as you rode him harder and faster.

You left scratch marks on his skin as you clung to him, trying to hold on as your orgasm built to a crescendo.

Cillian wrapped an arm around your waist, percentage guiding you, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he hammered into you from below.

The corners of your vision blurred as colors danced behind your eyes, your body writhing and convulsing as your orgasm enveloped you completely.

"Yes, yes!" you screamed.

Cillian's thrusts faltered slightly as he felt the walls of your pussy trembling and fluttering around him, milking him for every drop of cum he had, before he too, pushed over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm cumming!" he cried out, voice hoarse and strained as his body stiffened and convulsed beneath you. His cock swelled impossibly harder and thicker as rivers of warm cum pumped deep into your core, filling you to the brim with his essence.

"Oh fuck, I'm still cumming!" Cillian groaned, his hips bucking faster and faster as you milked him dry.

You collapsed against him, panting and spent, your body and mind in complete ecstasy.

Cillian's arms wrapped around you as he breathed in ragged gasps, his cock still twitching inside of you.

For a moment, you just lay there on the couch, your two bodies pressed tightly together, hearts beating in sync as if to a wild, primal rhythm.

Cillian's chest rose and fell against yours, hands gently stroking your back in slow, soothing motions. You could feel the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body, still trembling with the overwhelming force of it.

Cillian too, remained inside you, still half-hard, his warm semen slowly leaking from your swollen pussy and trickling down your thighs.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally managed a weak laugh, burying your face in Cillian's neck.

Your entire body felt deliciously heavy and languid with pleasure, and it took every ounce of your willpower to push yourself up slightly off his chest just so you could look into his face.

"That was amazing," you whispered, your lips curling up into a soft smile of pure satisfaction as you traced the curve of Cillian's jaw with the pad of your thumb.

Cillian chuckled softly, brushing tendrils of damp hair from your forehead as he gazed into your eyes.

"It was quick, but so fucking good," he confirmed, seeing how you had only been at it for about twenty minutes.

"I know," you replied, your voice still breathless as you snuggled up close to him before, finally, lifting your hips so that his cock would slip out of you . You flinched at the sudden rush of wetness between your legs, a remnant of what had just happened still dripping from your pussy.

Cillian himself groaned in disappointment as he felt his cock soften, the withdrawal painful.

"I could stay inside you forever," Cillian whispered, peppering kisses over your neck and shoulders. His hands were wandering over your waist and hips, softly stroking your skin with a tenderness that almost made you cry.

You chuckled softly.

"I think I would like that," you replied, before sighing blissfully and reaching down between your legs to touch yourself, still wet with his semen.

Cillian watched you through half-lidded eyes as your fingers dipped between your pussy lips and came back glistening with the mix of both of your juices.

You brought it to your mouth , eyes still locked on his as you licked your lips slowly, savoring the taste of your lovemaking and Cillian swallowed hard at the sight.

"I think it is time for bed," you then announced softly, standing up from the couch. "You have to be up early again tomorrow morning to film that scene with Annabelle, remember?" you teased, with a sly little grin before wobbling off to the bedroom and Cillian chuckled weakly response before hauling himself up from the couch, his entire body still buzzing and tingling with euphoria from the mind-blowing sex you just had on this very couch.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts @blondie-22

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy

149 notes · View notes

laylasredemption · 1 month

Text

Wtf so I now can post long fics? Well, thanks Tumblr I guess the beef between us didn't last long. Here's the sad Arthur fic I wrote, hope you like it guys<3

arthur morgan x dutch's daughter!reader 3,9k words chapter 6 spoilers, death, violence

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Until the last breath

Never in a thousand years would have Dutch van der Linde thought his own daughter would betray him. He would suspect anyone - recently even John or Arthur. But not [Y/n]. She was his daughter, his only child, the only thing he had left of Annabelle.

And yet there she stood - a gun in hand, pointed at her father, who had his own guns pointed at Arthur and John.

"You're on these two rats' side? That's what I get for raising you?" Dutch asked, his angry gaze fixated on his daughter. "You ungrateful brat."

"You didn't raise me!" [Y/n] countered. "Hosea was more of a father than you. To you, money has always been more important. You always had a plan to get more, and more, and more. I'd be in Tahiti if I had a dollar for every plan of yours that didn't work out."

"I gave you everything I could!"

"You gave me everything?" She had to stop herself from scoffing. "I spent my whole life trying to make you happy for once. Trying to make you proud of me. I gave my heart and my soul for this gang, and you ruined it all when you took in this rat!" Her voice started to crack, but she forced tears away. She reached for her other gun and pointed it at Micah.

Dutch asked, "You really think Micah is the reason you're turning on me?" His tone was strangely calm, too calm. "You think I never noticed the way you and Arthur were plotting something behind my back? But, of course, he didn't sneak into your tent at night just to plot. You disgust me, [Y/n]."

[Y/n]'s mouth fell slightly open as she attempted to form a sentence, and yet she wasn't able to. How did he find out? She thought her and Arthur had been sneaky enough.

"You lost your mind, Dutch," Arthur spoke up, "we were worried about you."

Dutch turned his eyes to Arthur, his anger growing at the man's comment. "I'm the one who gave all of you a home! A purpose! A damn family! And you had the nerve to get with my daughter behind my back, and turn her against me."

"All these years, Dutch..." Arthur shook his head. "Just to waste it for this snake?"

"Be quiet, Black Lung." Micah said, his gun pointed at Arthur.

"No," miss Grimshaw appeared with her rifle pointed at Micah, "you be quiet, mister Bell. And put that gun down."

It escalated in a moment. Micah pulled the trigger, sending a bullet towards miss Grimshaw. He took the last remaining mother figure [Y/n] had. Miss Grimshaw was a cold woman, but she cared for her, she cared for all the girls. And now she was dead.

But there was no time to dwell on that.

"Pinkertons are coming!" Javier ran up to the group, warning them.

"Now," Dutch spoke way too calmly for [Y/n]'s liking, "who amongst you is with me, and who is betraying me?"

"Bill, Javier, think for yourselves." Arthur spoke, but they didn't listen.

The both of them were too blinded by the doomed loyalty to Dutch. They sided with him, while Arthur was left with just [Y/n] and John. Besides them, there was also Micah and his own friends he had brought to the gang recently. They were outnumbered.

"My own flesh and blood has turned against me." Dutch concluded in a cold voice [Y/n] hadn't heard before. He had never been a good father, but now... his transformation was complete. The man who had once been a leader, had been replaced by a ghost of himself, driven by greed and paranoia

"You brought it upon yourself." [Y/n] spat.

Micah sneered, "And here I was thinking blood runs thicker than water. Seems a good fuck can change a lady's mind so easily. Wouldn't suspect that of cowpoke, but seems this day is full of surprises."

[Y/n] winced at Micah's remark. She wanted nothing more than to shoot him then and there.

And she tried to. But her hands were trembling with anger, and she missed.

"Put your guns down!" An unknown voice yelled out.

The pinkertons. They ran into the camp, or whatever was left of it, and started shooting. The Pinkertons had arrived, their shouts and gunfire piercing through the madness. The world started to crash down. [Y/n], Arthur, and John found places to use as a cover. The girl didn't even care what would happen with her father now. She had to focus on the pinkertons.

After a few minutes, when the trio knew they won't get out of it this way, John called out, "[Y/n], Arthur, into the caves!"

They didn't think twice before running inside the cave, following the gloomy and scary passages. The pinkertons ran after them and [Y/n] hoped John was leading them to some second entrance. They couldn't afford hitting a dead end.

"Micah was a rat, Milton told me." Arthur confessed as they kept running.

"We should've let him rot in that jail in Strawberry." [Y/n] thought out loud.

There was a ladder, leading them upwards. And another one, and a third one. As the surroundings started to become lighter with the outside's air, [Y/n] thought they might be getting out of that cave before the pinkertons get them.

"John," Arthur turned to his friend when the trio reached fresh air finally, "Abigail is safe, Jack too. They're with Sadie." Then he turned to [Y/n], and tried to stop a cough before speaking to her, "You, [Y/n], I want you to go and–"

"Go where?" The girl interrupted him. "Go and do what?"

"We have to separate here. John and I will go this way, you'll go join Sadie."

In the meantime, John called for their horses. Except that [Y/n]'s didn't come, which could only mean one thing.

"They killed her..." [Y/n] mused, and for a moment she couldn't fight the urge to cry. A few tears had escaped. "Now I have to go with you."

But, again, there was no more time to think. They mounted their horses, Arthur insisting [Y/n] rides with John in case they had to go separate ways. She didn't mount John's horse, she sat on the back of Arthur's. She knew that he knew there was no time to argue.

And they ran again. Ran, followed by the bullets shot by Dutch, Micah, Bill, Javier, and those men Micah brought to the gang. Dutch van der Linde was many things, and he never played the role of the father well, but even now [Y/n] was shocked to see him chasing after them, not afraid of the risk to shoot his own daughter.

When they escaped them, they kept running into the pinkertons. They seemed to be everywhere, as if they knew their next moves.

The trio tried to escape running up a mountain, but they were stopped. [Y/n] saw John falling off his horse, and no sooner the same happened to herself and Arthur.

"Buell!" The girl called out, seeing the animal lying on the ground with a bullet wound. "These motherf–"

They had to shoot now. There was no way out if they didn't kill all those pinkertons. And, fueled by the rage, [Y/n] felt as if she could shoot them all by herself. Hell, she would gladly choke all of them with her bare hands if she got the chance.

"Come on!" John called out after they have dealt with pinkertons. He knew this wouldn't last long.

[Y/n] ran up to Arthur, who was kneeling next to Buell, gently petting the horse's mane. The girl didn't even get to be with her mare when she got killed, so she had to be at least with Buell.

"Let's go!" John repeated.

"Give us a moment!" Arthur shouted back.

[Y/n] touched the horse gently and Arthur leaned over his head. This was such a heartbreaking thing to witness. Arthur received this horse from a man who had lost his leg in the war. Found him randomly in the woods, when the horse bucked him off and his leg got stuck in a stirrup. Arthur helped him and became friends, visiting from time to time. They went hunting once, and the veteran got attacked by a giant boar. With his last breath, he asked Arthur to take care of Buell. And Arthur did, until the horse's last breath, too.

With one last final, "Thank you," that Arthur whispered to Buell, they were ready to run further.

"Let's go." John said for the third time.

Arthur asked, "What about the money?"

"Money?" [Y/n] sobbed, wiping away a few last tears. "What about Micah? We have to get rid of him."

"I go down there, I'm dead in five minutes," John stated, "I have a family, that's more important."

"You're right," Arthur admitted, thinking John must be making sense for the first time in his life, "[Y/n], you go with John. I'm going back for the money."

"No, you're not." The girl protested firmly. She wasn't losing Arthur, not like that. "We go together or we don't go at all."

Arthur knew it was pointless to argue with [Y/n]. If she inherited anything from Dutch, it was the subborness.

Arthur also knew that he didn't have much longer left. He was actively dying from tuberculosis that he hasn't even told [Y/n] about yet. If soon he was going to take his last breath, he wanted [Y/n] to go, not see him like this. He had always been a tough man, he couldn't let the girl he loved more than anything in the world see him die beaten by a stupid illness. "Fine, let's go." He muttered and the trio started once again running. He had no idea how to get out of this. There was no way out for him, but he still could help [Y/n] and John.

They needed to find a higher ground, running up a mointain. It was very steep, they had to be careful. At least they knew they were safe from the bullets, for now. The pinkertons would come back to the cave, as Micah most likely told them about the money hidden inside.

"Keep, pushing, Arthur!" John said.

Arthur stopped running. He stood bent slightly, propping his arms on his knees. It seemed to [Y/n] like he has difficulty to take a breath. An expression of worry grew on her face. She knew he had some kind of sickness, but she didn't realize how serious it was until this moment.

"Arthur, let's go, we've made it so far." She said, the tears threatening to appear in her eyes once again.

"I think I've pushed all I can." Arthur admitted, coughing out some blood. He straightened his posture, being able to breathe a bit better momentarily.

John walked up to him, "We ain't got time for this."

"We ain't all gonna make it."

His words hit [Y/n] worse than any bullets. She ran up to Arthur, grabbing his arm, trying to make him step forward.

"Don't talk nonsense," she tried to pull him, but even in this state he was still stronger than her, "Arthur, I'm not going anywhere without you."

"You both go." Arthur insisted. "I'll hold them off. There ain't no more time to talk." With these words, he reached for his sachel and handed it over to John. Then, he took his hat off and placed it on [Y/n]'s head.

She knew what that mean. She knew Arthur was prepared to die. But she couldn't let him. She couldn't imagine a life without him. He truly was the love of her life, how was she supposed to keep going if he died on that mountain?

Arthur turned to [Y/n], his eyes softening as he took her face in his hands. "You need to keep going, no matter what happens. You understand?"

[Y/n] shook her head, tears welling up again. "Don't talk like that, Arthur. We're getting out of this. All three of us."

But Arthur knew better. He could feel the life slipping away from him with every breath, every step. "I need you to promise me something, [Y/n]."

"No, Arthur, no." She closed her eyes, hoping this would at least stop the tears.

"Look at me," Arthur said, gently placing his thumb on her chin and tilting her head up, "look at me, doll."

She slowly did as she was told, opening her eyes to meet his. Her heart was racing, knowing that these might be the last moments they have together. His gaze was full of love, as if in these seconds he wanted to love her for all the time he won't be able to in the future.

"You've been the light in my life, the good in me." Arthur told her.

"You've been my everything." She whispered, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak.

"You get out of here with John. When I'm gone, you'll find a good man, one that'll give you the life you deserve. You're young, you can start a family, forget about me. I don't know what I did to deserve your love, but it's the time you bless someone worthy with it."

[Y/n] shook her head, her hands gripping Arthur's coat as if she could somehow anchor him to this world, keep him from fading away. "I'll never forget you. You're the love of my life."

"You deserve so much more than this life, [Y/n]. More than what I could ever give you. But you can still have it. You can still have everything you want, a future, a family, happiness."

But [Y/n] was stubborn, as always. "There's no future if you're not in it."

For a moment, Arthur looked as though he might break, as though he might give in to the desire to stay with her, to fight for a few more moments together. She tried to kiss him, and it took all the strenght his ill body had to stop her.

"I love you, [Y/n]," sounded his final words, "I love you more than anything in this world. But you have to go. For me. I'll love you till my last breath."

"And I'll love you until mine," that was the only thing she could promise him, "I'll never forget you."

The sound of gunshots echoed nearby, and the trio knew there was no more time. [Y/n] would trade anything to have a few more minutes with Arthur. She would walk down to Hell to speak to the Devil himself if he could grant her a bit more time.

John grabbed [Y/n], as much as it pained him, he had to drag her away. They had to run. That's what Arthur wanted.

As she was being dragged away, [Y/n] watched Arthur climb, trying to reach an even higher spot of the mountain.

"Arthur is doing this so you can live. Don't let it be for nothing." John said.

[Y/n] didn't reply. They had to make an escape, and they did so in silence, but the girl didn't even feel her own legs, she just trusted they were there. There was no life for her if Arthur died. This life had been all she knew. How she was supposed to live without the gang, and without him?

"John." She said firmly, somehow finding the strenght in herself to not cry anymore. "I'm going back there."

[Y/n] had been hit by the realization that she doesn't have anything to lose. Everything she had, she already either sacrificed or lost. Her mother, the gang, her father, her horse, and now Arthur, her Arthur.

John stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to face [Y/n]. "No, you ain't."

"I ain't got nothing to lose. Either I'll be dragging his dead body to the pearly gates and bribing the God to revive him, or I'll die there with him."

John looked into her eyes just to see fire in them. He understood her love for Arthur and her desperation to save him, and maybe he would have even done the same for Abigail. Except it was plain stupid to do such thing for a man, who was already dying.

"Damn it," John muttered, knowing he can't stop her, "you're as brave as you're stupid. The both of you."

[Y/n] took off Arthur's hat that he had given her, and passed it to John. "You're the best brother I could've had. When I die, I'll look up at you and expect to see you treating Jack and Abigail well. No more running away."

"You mean look down." He corrected her.

"Oh, I'm definitely going to Hell. And I'll be waiting for you, just wait at least fifty years." She chuckled and pulled John in for a quick hug. When they pulled away, she could see tears in his eyes. But [Y/n] wasn't going to cry, not anymore.

She had no reason to cry now. Her time was over. If Arthur was going to die, she was dying there with him, and she was ready for this. More ready than for a future without him.

"Take care of your family," [Y/n]'s last words for John sounded, "make sure they get the life they deserve. Make sure you get that life, too." And with that, she turned away and walked back to where Arthur was supposed to be.

John nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He knew he would carry this moment with him for the rest of his life. The night he had lost the two people who were like siblings to him. He had lost much more, but it didn't matter.

[Y/n] had nothing left to lose, nothing left to live for but this one last act of love. If she could save Arthur, it would be worth it. And if she couldn't... then at least they would die together, side by side, as they should have lived.

There were no more gunshots to follow, not a sound of any fight. [Y/n] climed up the rocks, finding the path where she had last seen Arthur. She saw someone walking her way, not someone who she yearned to see.

"You goddamn rat!" [Y/n] yelled as she grabbed Micah by his coat. She didn't know where she found this strenght in her body, but she managed to throw him such a powerful punch in the face that he had to take a few steps back, almost falling off a cliff.

"You just won't give up, will you?" He said, his usual malice still audible in his voice.

"Did you kill him?" She asked, pointing her gun at him.

"He's alive. Not for much longer though."

[Y/n] clenched her jaw, her grip on the gun tightening so hard her knuckles went white. She felt her anger building up inside her, threatening to explode at any moment. "I should've put a bullet in your head a long time ago."

"Come on, do it now then," he laughed, the sound getting into [Y/n]'s head as she contemplated the decision, "we both know you're too soft to do it. How can such a failure be Dutch's daughter? I bet your mama wasn't the most loyal to your daddy."

That was it, her breaking point. [Y/n] knew putting a bullet in Micah wouldn't fix what was already broken, but at least she could stop any further damage he would cause if he stayed alive.

[Y/n] pulled the trigger, aiming for Micah's head, right between his eyes. His body fell down the cliff, and [Y/n] watched that happen. She felt absolutely nothing. No remose. But also no ease. Not until she could see Arthur.

She ran towards where Micah came from. She found Arthur lying down, his upper body propped on a rock. His face was turned towards the east, looking at the sunrise, even though he had always loved the sunset.

"Arthur..." She said.

His eyes searched for the source of the sound, Arthur thought he was having hallucinations. He forced a smile on his beaten face when he saw her.

"You damn fool, [Y/n]." He said in a weak, raspy voice. Not the kind of rasp [Y/n] loved to hear in the mornings, but the one that emphasized Arthur's condition. "I told you to go with John."

"I couldn't leave you, Arthur." She said, losing all her power to not cry. She knelt down beside him, looking at his injuries. His face was full of little cuts and bruises, some blood. But he didn't seem to have gotten shot.

Tears shone in her eyes. And she must have been the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever laid his eyes on. The way the orange morning sunrays touched her face made Arthur feel butterflies in his stomach. It was way nicer to die when he had this sight in front of him. But it wasn't fair to her.

"Doll," he breathed out, "I'm dying."

"No, you're going to be fine." She stuttered, the pain in her voice betraying how delusional she was being. She couldn't accept the reality of the situation. She refused to believe that the man she loved more than anything was slipping away from her.

She took his hands in hers. His touch used to be so hot it could put the Devil to shame. But now his hands were colder than the coldest night in Colter.

"I've got tuberculosis." Arthur confessed to her finally.

"What?" A puzzled expression appeared on her face. "Since when?"

"Since I killed Thomas Downes."

[Y/n]'s heart dropped. She had heard rumors about the sickness, the way it slowly drained the life out of a person, but she never imagined that Arthur, her Arthur, had been battling it all this time. It explained so much, the coughing fits, the way he had grown weaker, more distant. And yet, he had never told her, never let on just how bad it was.

"I deserved to know." She replied, her voice cracking. "I could've helped you."

"I didn't want to worry you, doll. Didn't want you to see me like this. You deserved better than that."

"I loved you, I still do, and I would've stayed by your side no matter what. You should've told me. We could–" She choked on her words, realizing there was nothing they could've done to stop it.

A small, sad smile tugged at the corner of Arthur's lips. "You've always been too good for me, [Y/n]. I ain't ever deserved you, not really."

"Don't say that, Arthur. You deserve everything. And now you're dying here. Alone."

"I ain't alone." Arthur murmured, his voice growing weaker with every word. "You're here, right? That's all I ever needed."

She nodded, her heart breaking as she watched him struggle to keep his eyes open. The sunrise was casting a warm glow over his face, and for a moment, [Y/n] could almost pretend that they were somewhere else, somewhere safe, where they could live the life however they wanted to. Away from all the bullshit they had to go through.

But reality was cold and its walls were closing in on them. She could feel Arthur slipping away, his fingers holding onto hers weaker with each passing moment. She wanted to scream, to beg for more time, but it would be in vain.

Arthur stopped fighting the urge to close his eyes. "Promise me, doll... you'll find a way to live... without me." He could barely speak anymore, yet he managed to utter these words.

"I love you, Arthur." [Y/n] said instead, because she didn't want to make a promise she couldn't keep.

His grip on her hands loosened, and his chest rose and fell one last time. [Y/n] leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She held him close, cradling his head in her arms as they were bathed in the warmth of the sunrise. She stayed like that, long after he was gone, her tears mixing with the blood and dirt on his skin. Arthur was gone, and with him, a part of her died too. She had nothing left to lose, nothing left to fight for, except the memory of the man she loved.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #dutch van der linde #john marston #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #red dead redemption x reader #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan imagines

137 notes · View notes

agroteraa · 5 months

Text

I Wanna Be Your Dog

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Summary: Oliver's memories of one of the evenings at Oxford, where you began getting closer. And a night in Saltburn, where you try to be dominant with him.

Actaeon series spin-off, taking place between Artemis and The Wrath of the Stag.

Warnings: smut, dom!Reader, sub!Oliver, switching, oral, penetration sex.

Word Count: 2,8K

It was another spring party at Oxford. All the young people were chatting cheerfully with bottles and glasses in their hands in the slightly dim light of the dormitory's common room. Felix and Oliver were almost lying relaxed on the couch and had been silent for some time.

“Now, can you eenie, meenie India or Annabel, and take one fucking home? Because they look miserable,” Oliver suggested softly.

“Eenie, meenie, miny, moe. Catch a tiger by his toe. If he squeals, let him go. Er..." Felix seemingly forgot the text of the counting-out rhyme, but decided to finish it as soon as possible and make a choice anyway, "You're out, boy scout!"

The choice fell on Annabelle. He happily pecked Oliver on the cheek in gratitude, which made him grin widely. Oliver liked being praised. Especially by those who were important to him. Felix quickly jumped up from the sofa and, lightly slapping the contented girl on the ass, and went off with her upstairs.

“Well, what the fuck, mate? I’ve been chirpsing her for about an hour. I wanted at least a hand job...” the guy Annabelle left said in disappointment.

An hour. What did he know about waiting. How about almost a whole year, mate? Oliver smiled indulgently to himself. And anyway, how shallow that guy thoughts and desires were.

“I know. We all want a fucking handjob, mate. Get yourself a title and a massive fuck off castle.”

That where it was hard to argue. A title and a massive fuck off castle had never harmed anyone in life yet.

"Hey, here I am! And where is Felix?.." you were surprised when you returned from your dorm room and sat back down on the sofa, only this time next to Oliver alone.

"I don't know really," he shrugged, smiling, "I think he’s decided to go have some fun on his own."

"Hmm," you pursed your lips, not really surprised, but still, deep down, a little upset that Felix was acting like that again. You guessed where and why he might have gone, but decided not to focus on that thought right now. Besides, you'd already poured another bottle of your drink into yourself. There was some silence in the air. Before that, you had fun talking to the guys, mostly Felix, and you had never been alone with Oliver for long, especially at parties. You clenched your bottle tightly like a social lifebuoy.

Oliver was even beginning to interest you a little, just a little, but you still had no idea what and how to talk to him in private. He still seemed more like Felix's shadow. But at the same time, being face-to-face for at least a short time, you felt like you had to tell Oliver something meaningful, something deep... as if you should be giving away to him some of your secrets. You were vaguely disturbed by this feeling, as now you were just in the mood for small talk only.

"Um... so… how’s your study going?" you asked, not knowing where else to start a new separate conversation with him besides studying.

"Pretty well," he replied a little awkwardly, embarrassed by your close presence himself. Before that, Felix separated you on the couch, but now he wasn’t a bother anymore. Oliver definitely liked this intimacy, even though he was obviously not used to it yet. But one gets used to the fine things quickly. And Oliver was greedy for all the new truly fine things in his life.

"And yours?"

"Yeah, too," you took a small sip from the bottle, trying not to look him in the eye. At the same time, because you felt awkward and because these blue eyes have been looking at you so piercingly lately, as if they were drilling right into your soul. You couldn't tell if it was embarrassing for you, or if it was some other kind of excitement. Maybe both.

"And what about yours..." Oliver was interrupted by one of Felix's many friends, Chad, who plopped down on the arm of the sofa next to you.

"Hey, Y/N! I finally got to the party on your campus! How are you?"

"Oh, Chad! It's been a long time, it’s like you've disappeared somewhere. Have you really been studying so hard lately?" you both laughed loudly at this very bold assumption of yours. You continued to communicate, actively exchanging the latest news. Over time, you felt guilty a little. You turned to Oliver and smiled at him. He smiled back understandingly. His face visibly saddened when you turned back to the blond guy. He began to examine the empty bottom of his plastic cup, twirling it slightly in his hands. How should he get Y/N's attention? He didn't know. He had to come up with a plan. What would he do, what should he say, so that you…

"Hey, Oliver! Did you have any classes with Mr. Wharton?" you asked with interest, involving him in your conversation. He exhaled a little as he realized that you weren't leaving him in the middle of this party, where he felt like a stranger without Felix and you. You looked at him with a warm smile, and something inside him finally clicked and fell into place.

"Er, yeah... that oddball. He constantly comes up with fruit analogies for everything and even sometimes speaks on their behalf while holding them in hands."

"Ah, have you seen that too?! Y/N, I told you, he's an old weirdo! Only you are attending the wrong classes!" exclaimed Chad, and you all laughed merrily. The conversation was going well, and Oliver was incredibly happy about it. He didn't feel lonely anymore because of you.

But in return, some feelings that he had only vaguely suspected until this moment began to awaken inside him. You didn't stop drinking, and at some point, Chad put his arm around you and started lightly stroking your back. You giggled without giving it much thought, especially under the influence of alcohol. But Oliver saw perfectly well how Chad looked more and more into your eyes, lowering his gaze to your lips and lightly licking his own. It was very subtle, but Quick noticed it all. The way his hand keeps stroking your back, gripping you tighter and tighter. Oliver saw it all perfectly well, because he wanted to be in that place himself.

No, rather, he didn't really want to. He had long imagined your first kiss when you were fully conscious, willing and not under the influence of some alcohol, when you were too much mellow-minded. And he wouldn't let your kiss with Chad happen now, in this state, nor ever.

Sometimes it seemed you and him were very different. He could see through everything, and sometimes it was like you notice none of what you really should. How could you not understand that this Chad wanted to take you upstairs just like Felix did with Annabel?

You were kind and open, maybe even too friendly, oh, Y/N. Oliver was drawn to you like a moth to a fire. You were quite a complete and content person in your own right, and this was very attractive to the many-faced Oliver, who was still struggling to find a place in this life, especially here, in his first year at Oxford.

And it seems that he began to realize that he had found his place next to you. And he wanted to take this place like a guard dog, protecting it and you from all the adversity and guys like Chad.

You didn't forget about Oliver and wanted him to feel fine and less lonely, even hardly knowing him, even having so many friends and acquaintances here, even in the midst of fun of the party. You showed towards him attention and care.

Yeah, he would like to be your dog, he thought now.

Fortunately, you soon got up, freeing yourself from Chad's embrace and going to the bathroom. Great. Oliver had been carefully observing the situation in the common room all this time, so he immediately got up from the sofa and sauntered into the common kitchen, where India was smoking, still slightly displeased that Felix had not chosen her.

"How’s the party? " Oliver asked politely, grabbing a can of beer from the fridge.

India rolled her eyes, twirling a cigarette in her fingers, "What do you need?"

"Me? Nothing. But that guy has been looking at you half the evening without stopping," he nodded towards Chad and winked, "Just saying."

"Isn't he hanging out with Y/N?"

"No, he doesn't sleep with his buddy Felix's old friends. So, the way is clear."

"Oh, are they friends with Felix?" India narrowed her eyes. That was good, she needed some male attention right now, especially from those whom Catton Jr. might become jealous of. Thus, the girl went off towards her chance.

When you had returned to the common room, you saw Chad and India flirting with each other on the couch, and the girl did not let go of her hands off him. Okay. That was unexpected, but okay, it was a student party, after all. You shrugged your shoulders and started thinking about where you could sit now.

"Everyone seems to be having fun with each other tonight," Oliver, who happened to be next to you, shrugged sympathetically. Indeed, everyone around was busy with their own lively conversations, and someone was already far from just "talking".

"To singles?" he offered a playful toast, and you agreed with a grin, "Apparently so!"

"Cheers!" you clinked your drinks, continuing to talk a little more relaxed with each other. So, that how you started getting closer from that evening, and you began getting to know the real Oliver. At least that was what you thought at the time. He looked at you with a shy smile of a complete adoration as you were telling your stories full of joy and tipsy giggling. His eyes were shining like two starry sapphires right now.

If a guard dog wants to protect the peace of its owner and scare away other dogs, then it must inspire fear itself. Maybe sometimes not very intentionally, but instill just a little fear and sense of power even to its own master. Oliver wanted to be a good guard dog.

He would take this place next to you.

* * *

And he took it.

Now he was hovering over you, pinning you between his arms, leaning on your bed in your bedroom in Saltburn. It was the middle of the night, and finally not a single one inhabitant of this house could bother you right now.

Oliver thought all day about how he would continue his way with you at night, along the way remembering the evening of that party in Oxford, where you finally began to get closer. He looked down at you rapturously, biting his lip and breathing heavily, still not believing that all this was really happening. Not just right now, but in general, everything.

His blue eyes were gleaming with utter delight in the dim.

"What else does my sweet Y/N want?" Oliver asked you, recovering his breathing.

He bent lower, and a chain dangled from his neck, swaying slightly. The metal heated by the warmth of your bodies tickled your lips slightly. You lifted your head and gently but firmly catching the chain with your lips.

"Mm-hmm," Quick mumbled with curiosity. You smiled, gritting the chain with your teeth and began to shake it slightly from side to side. He opened his lips excitedly, inhaling sharply.

"Am I your doggie today? Oh, I'm more than willing to be, sweetheart," he said in his deep sexy accent.

He wanted to add "now and always," but didn't. Oliver was afraid that if he showed how willing he was to obey you, he would lose your interest. He was used to changing masks, adapting to different situations and someone's needs. He was an awkward and shy nerd when you first met, and that was largely true, because of his deep core nature and the new posh environment at Oxford. Fortunately, he had successfully joined Felix's company and was able to relax a little. And here in Saltburn, he almost felt like the master of the situation.

If you wished, he would always be that sweet, shy and awkward guy for you, if only you were truly happy about it. But he had learned that he interested and intrigued you mostly when he showed a more powerful, dominant and somewhat even dark part of himself. And that made him really pleased, because you viewed him the way he hoped to be in his own deep wildest dreams.

And yet, he still wanted to be your dog, an obedient dog who would do anything for you. In a sense, he was. And today he decided to demonstrate you that in more obvious way.

"What do you want me to do? I'm all yours," he leaned back next to you, belly up. Oliver smiled playfully. Right now, he was a tiger who had been caught by the toe with his own permission.

Biting your lip, you straddled him, sitting on his thighs. After enjoying this view, you ran your hand from his navel, sliding your fingers up the groove between his prominent muscles. Oliver exhaled sharply. You stopped at his neck, grabbed his chain, and pulled him to you. Now the guy was in a sitting position, he looked at you adoringly while his hands slid over your waist.

Without letting go of one hand from the chain, you slowly rose and began to descend on his cock. Oliver hissed with satisfaction, "Yes, my dear, just like that..."

"I didn't let you talk," you pulled the chain slightly, smiling slightly.

"Oh," he said in surprise, but gladly began to obey you, nodding in agreement.

You began to move slowly on his things, while Oliver's strong hands supported you with ease, guiding you, leaving hot prints on your skin.

His hands were all over you as his lips feverishly kissed everything they could reach. Finally, he reached for your lips, covering them with a hot kiss full of saliva, admiration and arousal.

When you broke the kiss, you said, a little hesitantly, but still firmly enough, "Take your hands off, next time you touch me when I tell you."

Oliver smiled enthusiastically – you learned quickly from his example, apparently. He liked the hint of his own power and dominance reflected on himself now through you.

He obeyed your request, although it was getting harder to fulfill it by every passing minute. He wanted to touch you again, guide your body and push it harder on his hard needy cock. It became unbearable after a while, and he whined a little. He looked at you a little pleadingly, but you nodded no.

He kissed your breasts again, but in response he got "Do not touch at all."

"Only I can now," with these words, you ruffled his hair and pressed harder against his shoulders. He groaned at the inability to touch you at all, it was a new sensation, or rather, its absence.

You grabbed his hair, and he put his head closer, burying it in your hand. It was the only chance to touch you in any way. Oliver closed his eyes and inhaled noisily through his nose. He didn't even mind if you squeezed his hair even harder, hell, maybe even poked his face into the sheet, where he would inhale the scent of your arousal. If you had forced him to lick it off, he would have willingly obeyed, as long as you continued to press his face to the bed, clutching his dark curls. He even imagined doing the same with the bathtub you were lying in lately. In his bathroom. This thought turned Oliver on even more.

Degrading him, talking him down, pulling his hair or chain harshly - he would not always like to be in this role, but he would like to give you that opportunity from time to time. If only you'd asked. And even if you hadn't asked. Because it was you. And because he was like that.

Reaching the peak almost at the same time, you dug your nails into his back deeply, which made Oliver's eyes darken slightly and starry at the same time. With a pleased moan, you released your grip and sank down onto the pillows. But that wasn't all of it, and you decided to play the role given to you to the very end.

Clutching his soft dark hair, you moved his head to your thighs. He looked back at you with hazy from own rapture eyes.

"Please," you said softly, still not being able to be dominant enough. But this sweetness and dissimilarity from his own, even in a situation where you could and should do it, but asking instead, drove Oliver crazy to his limit. He attacked you with a growl, delivering all the pleasure he could possibly give to you that night.

* * *

Oliver was lying with his arms around your lower back, his head resting on your stomach. Quick looked faithfully into your eyes. His face reflected the moonlight of the deep quiet night that was now in Saltburn.

You stroked and scratched him behind the ear, he rubbed his nose contentedly against your smooth belly skin.

"Is my mistress happy?"

"Yes," you laughed, starting to play softly with his hair.

"Then I am happy too," he said, closing his eyes and rubbing his cheek against your soft belly, "Now and always."

191 notes · View notes

two-white-butterflies · 1 year

Text

i can see you | dr3

Description: Secret relationship tension. You both struggle to keep the relationship a secret.

Pairing: daniel ricciardo/red-bull admin!reader

Daniel's arms were wrapped around your torso, carefully leading you towards the secluded station of redbull racing. You've been dating each other for six-months now, and due to his job and your adoration for privacy - you've never really announced your relationship to the public. It's not like they're supposed to care, right?

'Private but not secret' was your motto.

Everyone in redbull racing knew that Daniel was dating somebody - they just didn't know who.

"Can we get some milkshakes before the race?" you inquired, knowing that the both of you were going to spend the entire race watching from a tiny screen. It could get boring. "Yeah, chocolate or strawberry?" he asked, reaching for his phone to call someone.

"Mint," you replied with a smile.

"Are you serious?" he chuckled - showing you a toothy grin smile.

"Yeah," you hummed.

"Did Max really expose our relationship?" you giggled while pressing small kisses to his lips. "Don't worry, he doesn't know who my girlfriend is." he says for certain, hands trailing up to cup your cheeks. "Really?" you raised an eyebrow.

Daniel told Max everything.

You used to joke around that they were the ones dating.

"Yep,"

Daniel dared to kiss you in the open.

His lips were pressed against yours, hands squeezing your ass - while his hat partially covered your face. "Daniel," you whispered, surprised by his sudden bravery. "Y/N," he repeated your name.

He pulled away from your face - hands raising to settle on your waist. "What are you doing?" you chuckled, pecking his lips. The both of you were lucky since it was lunchtime - thus, there weren't any people in the garage. "Kissing you?" he answered.

"How courageous..." you hummed while he pulled your body closer. "Wanna see how far this goes?" he joked - pulling away in time when another personnel enters the garage.

"Daniel?" Christian raised his eyebrows. "We're filming content, sir." you quickly lied - pulling your phone out to pretend to be filming him. "Oh, okay - have fun then." he waved goodbye - not wanting to be part of another tiktok.

Daniel wiped the tears away from your eyes. "Hey, twitter is a shitty place. Twitter is irrelevant, like who even uses it?" he calmed you down - hiding your phone in his pocket before you could read more hate tweets about you. "If someone feels this about us, I feel shitty - Dan." your voice sounded hoarse from the hours of crying.

"That's normal - but it doesn't mean that you'll live based on what anonymous people say." he reasoned, already used to the hate. "I know - but I never wanted our relationship to be exposed this way." you sobbed, burying your face in his chest.

"I agree, but my manager said that this can be our chance to fuck them up. We need to own our narrative."

F1 FANS DISCORD SERVER

kittenwhispers: anyone else find it weird that daniel is dating some 23 year old 😭? - thebossdaddy: it's weird fr WAHAHA

rosesforrose: it's not weird, i think they look good together. daniel's always been childish anyways. (edited)

annieunnie: nah i ship them so badd acck

danielricciardo: Annabelle in theaters near you. 🤣

0 comments 174,393 likes

comments have been restricted.

#daniel ricciardo x reader #d33 #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo social media au #f1 social media au

762 notes · View notes

stereor4t · 8 months

Text

lesbian movies I've seen so far (review based on my tastes)

I'm going to give my opinion of the lesbian movies I've seen so far and I'm going to give them a score from 1 to 5 stars :3 it may contain some spoilers

Bound(1996)

For the year this movie was made, I was actually surprised by the END of it(fuck the obsession with killing the protagonist). I didn’t really have much faith in it by how it stars, but man, I was so surprised, I loved it, be gay do crime. ★★★★☆

Gia(1998)

God, this movie is my new roman empire, I didn’t know about Gia’s story, but the ending of the movie DESTROYED ME. the scene where shes talking with Linda and she says: now we have all the time in the world, I was so moved by it, I loved it. It’s currently one of my favorite movies.★★★★★

Lost and delirious(2001)

ugh shakespearean shit, this movie touches more than one of us when it comes to the experience of liking girls. I liked it but I felt like there was a lot of wasted potential that could’ve made it great, tbh i just wanted Paulie to be happy; the fact the Piper Perabo is in it helps the score too. ★★★☆☆

D.E.B.S.(2004)

ITS THE BEST FUCKING MOVIE IN THE WORLD, GOD. I actually hated this movie before watching it ‘cause I thought it was some dumb comedy, but god, when I gave it a chance it BLEW ME AWAY. If you want to see some lesbian spies enemies to lovers shit watch debs. ★★★★★

My summer of love(2004)

Personally, I HATED this movie kjj, I didn’t really get ANYTHING at all, like it felt like everything was just too rushed??? like when did they even fall in love lol? Gets points just for Emily Blunt. ★★☆☆☆

Imagine me & you(2005)

Piper Perabo again and Lena Heady THE WOMAN. This movie is ART, my fav movie, it’s beautiful, comfort movie af. The true don’t let your husband keep you from meeting your future wife. ★★★★★

Loving Annabelle(2006)

This movie was made for all of us who once liked a teacher or profesor. I liked it quite a lot, but I feel like seize it’s true potential. Personally, I choose to think that the alternative ending it’s the true one lol. ★★★☆☆

Bloomington(2010)

Again for us that like fantasizing about our teachers. I like this movie but again, I feel like they didn’t really make the most of it jskdja annoying af bitching about the same but yeah, it bothered me. Anyway, i liked the movie, and I didn’t like the ending at all,I felt bad for the poor teacher :c. ★★★☆☆

A perfect ending(2012)

I know a lot of people hate this movie and think it’s shit, but I personally love it lol. Idk I remember that when I watched it it got me super emotional and i liked it a lot, dont care what anyone says to me it’s a good movie. ★★★☆☆

The girl king(2015)

★☆☆☆☆

Didn’t like it at all, boring af, i didn’t really get it, idk, i was expecting more. ★☆☆☆☆

First girl i loved(2016)

Im fond of this movie, it was one of the first ones I saw, the ending just made a me a bit frustrated, but I liked it, Brianna Hildebrand with a wig funny as hell. ★★★☆☆

Disobedience(2017)

Rachel Weisz and McAdams DAMN. Great movie, I liked it in all aspects. Although the ending wasn’t what I expected I still liked it. ★★★★★

Tell it to the bees(2018)

Mmm I think this movie is kinda meh, like it’s okay but I feel like it lacks something for me to like it, tho I didn’t get the ending, like I don’t understand the decisions each one took. ★★☆☆☆

Ammonite(2020)

Kate Winslet and Saoirse Ronan!!!! I liked it but I didn’t love it, I never got to understand if Mary hated or loved Charlotte. The ending got me frustrated!!! ★★★☆☆

Crush(2022)

The kind of movie you gotta watch after Gia, I liked it I thought it was silly, like very much teenage romcom sort of shit, like the Kissing Booth but for lesbians. ★★★☆☆

You can live forever(2022)

I think this is a great movie, interesting story, I wasn’t expecting the whole ending sequence, what Marike says to Jamie destroyed me, in my head theyre the young version of the Disobedience ones. ★★★★★

Booksmart(2019)

GREAT MOVIE, very entertaining and funny, I liked it quite a lot, it’s perfect to watch it with friends. Gigi is just like me fr best character ever. ★★★★★

290 notes · View notes

the-modern-typewriter · 1 year

Text

The Art of Turning 30

“So, am I allowed to talk?” Annabelle gave an awkward little laugh, that she immediately wanted to stuff back into her mouth. “I’ve never done this before!”

“You can talk.” Julian flashed her a quick, reassuring smile. “At least until I tell you not to.”

They both laughed, then. Julian’s laugh was not awkward.

It was six months until her thirtieth birthday.

She had met him at her girlfriend Camille’s twenty-ninth birthday party, a few weeks ago, only to be surprised that they’d somehow never crossed paths before. London was big, but it wasn’t that big surely, and Julian was an artist.

Annabelle felt like she spent half her free time at artsy bohemian parties and amateur gallery openings, though maybe that was why. He wasn’t an amateur, was he?

She’d looked him up online after and seen several shining reviews of his first exhibition, and a rosy buzz of anticipation at what he’d do next.

She remembered that buzz. People used to get that buzz when they talked about her. Apparently, his work was ‘visceral’ and ‘felt startlingly alive’.

It seemed impossible that he wanted to paint her, of all people.

Annabelle shifted on the stool, glancing around Julian’s studio space as he finished setting up his easel and paints. Oils. He’d said he was using oils. That mattered in painting, didn’t it?

The studio was everything she’d always imagined a professional artist’s studio to be. It was quite large, with clean wooden floors and white walls crowded with stacks of sheet-covered canvases in progress.

There was only one that was ready and visible; a painting of a beautiful blond man, probably nearing thirty too, lounging on the same stool that Annabelle was perched upon. He gazed out at the viewer with a hungry sort of hope. Like they were the best thing he had ever seen.

The studio smelled like drying paint and the sandalwood diffuser wafting its calming scent from the window sill. Sunlight coated the room like honey, or gold.

“You’re not going to make me look ugly, are you?” she asked.

He smiled again, meeting her eyes. “I couldn’t possibly.”

He probably flirted with all of his models, but she still felt a blush of heat rise to her face.

He looked like he could be in a painting, or one of those classical sculptures still concerned with archetypal ideals of beauty. Of course, she was with Camille, so nothing would happen…but still. The attention made her heart pound. Camille was usually too tired from work to flirt with her anymore.

Annabelle wasn’t sure how good she’d be at seeing a painting of herself that she hated, and not letting it show on her face. She’d probably tear up. It would be embarrassing for both of them. She shifted on the stool once more, and tugged at the hem of her summer dress.

“This is for your next exhibition?”

“I think I’m going to call it ‘The Art of Turning 30’.”

“Explains why I’m your muse instead of some gorgeous twenty two year old ingenue.” She laughed again. He did not. She continued, even as she willed herself to stop babbling, because he wasn’t looking at her with the expectation that she do anything. He plucked up a pencil, beginning his work. “It’s like, when you’re a woman, after you turn thirty your life is over, right? It’s like with my acting. And then by the time you’re forty all of a sudden all you can possibly be is, like, a mother or a witch. Or, you know, the dead wife. It’s all downhill.”

“You wouldn’t want to be a witch?” He raised a brow. “They always seemed pretty powerful to me. I could see you as a witch.”

“But do you know what I mean?”

“Can you turn your head a little the left, please?”

“What? Oh. Yes.”

She turned her head to the side, towards the window, and hoped the sunshine made her seem younger rather than highlighting every growing crag and wrinkle.

She could only watch him out of her periphery vision now; a wistful muse, seemingly unaware that she was being observed. She tried to look deep and mysterious.

“Perfect,” he said. “Thanks. You’re just perfect.”

The canvas of the blond man fell to the floor with a soft thump.

Annabelle jumped.

“Sorry.” Julian shook his head, another easy laugh on his breath. “The landlord never lets me put proper hangings on the wall here. Says it wrecks them. I guess so long as they don’t do that at the exhibition?”

“I don’t know, you could probably play it off as a stunt…lean into the photorealism.”

“Now, there’s an idea. Genius.”

She probably didn’t look deep and mysterious. She probably just looked smitten.

***

She sat for Julian three times a week for the next several months.

It became a pocket of peace in her life, the hours when it was okay to finally stop and be for a while, because everything else seemed to be hurtling through her fingers faster than she could clutch hold of it.

She’d always imagined that she would be a successful, or at least up-and-coming, actress and screenwriter by the time she turned thirty.

Sure, women only made up around 30% of the directors or writers behind the camera, but back in school everyone always said that maybe she’d be the one to change that. She wasn’t entirely sure when they stopped saying it, but they had.

It was three months until her thirtieth birthday.

“Here.” Julian caught hold of her chin, featherlight, angling her back towards the sun. The days were getting shorter. Time was running out for them both. “You were like this.”

She had got in the habit of always sitting a little wrong, because he’d always adjust her, oh so careful and attentive, like she was his masterpiece.

She would have probably preferred to be her own masterpiece, but being his seemed like the second best option. She could practically feel the ghosts of forgotten, underappreciated female muses-past screaming at her that no, it was always better to be somebody than someone’s, but frankly she wasn’t sure she could be picky.

She’d been getting less and less call backs, and was starting to feel more like she was a part-time waitress dabbling at film than a part-time actress-filmmaker working hours in hospitality to make ends meet.

It was like a window was closing. Her window. That morning she’d found an honest to the devil grey hair on her head!

Camille told her that she was being ridiculous – that she’d become increasingly vain since Julian started painting her.

Annabelle had snapped back that vanity wasn’t vanity for an actress. Her looks were her currency.

It hadn’t always been so hard, had it?

All in all, it didn’t seem like a sin to let him touch her. It was nice to be touched. There was nothing untoward in that.

She peeked up at Julian, standing over her, his star ever on the rise. Their stares met again. He smiled that quick, reassuring smile of his.

“You look tired,” he said softly.

“Sorry.”

“No, no.” He widened his eyes. “I didn’t mean—” he huffed gently, and let go of her. “I haven’t got to your mouth yet. If you want to talk about it.”

Annabelle grinned back before she could stop herself.

It had become a standing joke. She sometimes felt she spent their whole time together talking about herself, but he always said it was interesting and made the hours fly. He was a very good listener.

More privately, she sometimes suspected that he was leaving her mouth for last just so they could continue chatting, but she wasn’t allowed to see the painting to check. The thought was thrilling though.

“It’s nothing,” she said, even if she already knew she’d probably tell him everything on her mind. “I don’t know.”

What would she do when the painting was done? She’d see him at his exhibition opening, probably, but there would hardly be a reason for them spend time together like they did when she was sitting for her portrait.

Maybe it was silly to consider him one of her friends. She’d miss it, though. She’d miss him.

Maybe he’d want to do another one of her, but who was she kidding? Maybe in ten years, when he did a gimmicky but charming follow up. The Art of Turning 40: Where Are They Now?

What did he know about turning thirty anyway? He couldn’t be more than twenty-five. He had loads of time.

“There’s an intimacy,” he murmured, “to painting someone. Especially like this, in the old fashioned way. A lot of people use photographs and quick studies because they’re more convenient and you don’t have to catch the right light, you know? But I love it.” The air filled with their breathing, and the soothing dab of his paint brushes on his palette, mixing up the colours of her. “You really get to know people this way. It adds soul to the work. It’s magic.”

She felt, more than saw, his gaze cut over her again. Her blood was electric beneath his scrutiny.

He continued, softly.

“I knew from the moment we met that I wanted you to be my centrepiece for this one.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true!” He laughed. “You have this great energy. I knew you were going to be interesting, and I was right. And you know how to model well. Because you’re an actress, right? You’re used to people looking at you.”

An actress, no ‘wannabe’ or ‘aspiring’ or ‘failed’ tacked on front. She couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him as best she could without turning her head.

“My boss always says I should have more energy, then I’d wait tables faster.”

“What does Camille say?”

“Camille—” Annabelle blinked in surprise, then swallowed. Her hands curled in her lap. She resisted the urge to sigh.

“Uh-oh.”

“No, no,” she said. “It’s fine. I just – she thinks if I’m not happy I should do something about it. She’s always telling me about other things I’d be really good at that have better pay, or more sociable hours.”

“So, give up on your dreams already.”

“Yeah.”

Annabelle deflated. She knew that Camille didn’t mean anything bad by it, but that was what it implied, right? She was never going to be a famous and successful actress or screenwriter, so she should settle for something manageable.

“Well, she’s not a creative, like us,” Julian said. “She doesn’t get it.”

Like us. Annabelle was a horrible girlfriend for feeling a swell of pleasure at that. It was true, though. Still.

“We’ve been together for a really long time, and she’s been really supportive. I think she’s just finding the whole ‘me turning thirty’ thing annoying. Mainly because I won’t shut up about it. Which I’m sure you sympathise with!”

Camille said that anyone who claimed life stopped at thirty was an idiot. There was no limit for potential, no one age where everyone had to have their life together and perfect by.

She was probably right, but Annabelle could still feel the panic of it clawing at her the closer her birthday got. Even if she was successful after thirty, she wouldn’t be one of those young geniuses that everyone had expected her to be. She wouldn’t be exceptional.

She would just be Annabelle. It didn’t feel like enough. Maybe if she could see herself like Julian apparently saw her, it would be better.

“Chin up,” Julian said.

Annabelle cleared her throat again. “Right, yeah.”

“No, I mean.” His voice was deadpan. “Your head. You’ve moved. Drooped.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder. The melancholy shoved itself down again in the pit of her stomach.

He tossed her a wink from behind the easel, to indicate he was joking. Only trying to cheer her up and lighten the mood.

“So, I still don’t get to see what else you’re working on, huh?” she asked.

“I’d have to kill you.” He switched to another, smaller brush in her periphery vision.

She snorted.

“It would be very inconvenient all around,” he said. “Rigor mortis sets in fast. I’d never get the painting done in time.”

“Well we can’t have that. After you’re finished with me then, I suppose.”

“Our art is a part of us, Annabelle.” He shot her another glance in turn, brush poised above his image of her, considering. “So how, then, could I ever truly be finished with you?”

Her breath hitched in her throat. She debated possible responses to that, and how he could have meant it. Her body felt warm and flushed.

He gestured that she angle her head left once more, not looking away for a second himself.

Annabelle turned.

The summer waned outside the window, but in the painting she would still be in her sundress, legs tanned and toes painted sky blue.

Thank god he kept his studio warm. The minutes ticked by, the air between them settling tranquil once more.

“Sometimes,” she said, softly, “I wish we could stay like this forever. Freeze the moment. Is that stupid?” It felt a confessional thing to say. Bold.

“No.” She could hear the equally soft smile in his voice. “It’s not stupid. Isn’t that how I got you to agree to do me this favour?”

She remembered the party; an adult version of what they all used to do, even if it still felt like they were all pretending to be grown-ups. Or at least, Annabelle felt like she was pretending. She didn’t feel twenty-nine.

She’d clutched her glass of wine and hovered near a somewhat strained conversation about mortgages and the state of the housing market, and how none of them were going to be on the property ladder before they were fifty, before she caught sight of Julian coming in.

She echoed his words, and didn’t have to fake her wistfulness that time.

“To be remembered in art is the closest any humans’ get to immortality.”

He echoed the next line back at her. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

And she’d said yes.

***

“I’ve got a date for the exhibition,” Julian said, from behind his easel. “A few weeks after your birthday. Short notice, I know. Soz.”

“Ugh, don’t mention the B word. But that’s exciting! Can I come?”

“Of course you can come,” he said. “It’s why I’m telling you. This wouldn’t be possible without you.”

“I mean, while sitting here is terribly difficult,” she said, “I do feel like you should get some of the credit. Just some.”

She heard him laugh.

She’d grown to love Julian’s laugh; he was so ready to do it, at least in their sessions.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Camille laugh at something she said. Then again, she wasn’t sure the last time she and Camille had spent all that much time together.

By the time Camille got back from a day of teaching, Annabelle was usually already out for the night shift at the pub she waited in. Yet another thing in her life that wasn’t working like it was supposed to!

Camille said that could be worked on if, hey, Annabelle was willing to actually prioritise their relationship.

It had been one of their worst arguments to date.

“There’ll be thirty paintings in total, I think,” he mused, more talkative than normal. “Yours being the main one, like I said.”

“I’m sure you will perfectly capture the raw turmoil of turning thirty.”

He laughed again. It had been one of the most notable reviews of his first exhibition – except the exact wording had been that his work perfectly captured ‘the raw turmoil of adolescence, as an emotional and nostalgic period of change and growth’.

He’d finally caved and showed her some of his previous pieces, other than the ones she’d managed to find online, as a compromise of his refusal to show her how his painting of her was coming along.

Most of the individual pieces from his first exhibit had been sold off, but he’d kept the main one.

His main piece – Girl On Swing – got the most praise, so it had apparently been a bit of a scandal that he hadn’t sold it. He’d had offers.

It was a triptych (Julian’s word) of a girl, unsurprisingly, on a swing.

In the first of three paintings she was a child, carefree and giggling. In the second, a young teenager, her face a storm of emotion. In the final one, she was a young adult, caught mid-leap flying off the swing she’d been sitting on for seemingly eighteen years. Her arms were painted halfway to transitioning to a bird’s wings. She was no longer looking back at the viewer but forward, to all that life had to offer.

Annabelle wondered what people would say about Julian’s version of her.

People liked to fantasise about how amazing being a teenager was when they were an adult, but she hadn’t met anyone who fantasied about turning thirty. It wasn’t nearly as glamorous.

She hoped he made her glamorous.

“Of course,” he was continuing, “with the date so near, we might need a few more sessions to get finished on time.”

She looked over at him again, then, even if she wasn’t supposed to be moving.

The golden light danced across his handsome features, and caught the edges of the canvases behind him. There were twenty nine of them waiting.

“I make a pretty good lasagne,” he said, biting his lip. “If I say so myself. Compensation. If you don’t mind finishing late. There’s also a nice wine I got for Christmas that I really couldn’t drink alone.”

“I don’t mind,” she heard herself saying, before she’d even thought about it. “I don’t mind at all.”

“It’s a good venue,” he said. “A really good venue. Everyone’s going to love you.”

With him, maybe, the window wouldn’t close.

***

“I’m done, except for the varnish.”

The words sent a bolt through her, stirring away the sleepy content that came with posing for an extended period of time. She felt seen. Now, though, she wanted to see. Finally.

It was the day before her thirtieth birthday, and Camille had a massive surprise party planned, that Annabelle was both pretending that she didn’t know about, and dreading like a punch to the gut.

It was sweet that Camille was doing it. But also, maybe, if she didn’t celebrate the date she could still, somehow, be in her twenties for another year. That was how it worked, right?

“You are?” She leapt off the stool, and felt her joints click. “Can I see? I feel like I should have a right to see before everyone else. I won’t tell anyone.”

“It is top secret.” He pretended to consider.

She took the opportunity to relish actually looking at him for once; there was a kiss of red on the cuff of his painting shirt that hadn’t yet dried. It was the exact colour of her lipstick. She smiled.

He really had left her mouth for last.

“Fine,” he said, and gestured her over, eyes bright with amusement. “But only because I know you won’t tell.”

In the short space of walking over, Annabelle had time to feel her stomach clench. Her old fears boiled nauseously to the surface.

What if it was awful?

What if it wasn’t what she wanted, as if that had ever been the point?

What if her immortality looked like the part-time waitress she didn’t want to be?

She would have to keep a straight face, and not hurt his feelings. He’d been working on it for so long. It would ruin everything if he knew she hated it. It would no doubt be technically very skilled. She should have researched painting techniques she could comment on.

She rounded the easel, a little dizzy.

His hand fell on the small of her back, thumb tracing the curve of her hip, idly almost.

She stared.

Her painted self was lovely. So alive, as if thirty couldn’t possibly contain her.

It was not as realistic as ‘Girl On Swing’ though.

She was caught in the motion of talking, hands gesturing animatedly in the air despite her best efforts of posing, and though her face was turned towards the light of the window it was as clear as confession that her eyes were always turning towards him, trying to steal a glimpse.

She looked at him, at the viewer, like he was the best thing she had ever seen.

Camille would see the painting too.

She had already said that she had to come to the opening, especially ‘after all the time her girlfriend had spent with this Julian fellow instead of her.’

Annabelle swallowed.

The perfect bubble burst.

She released a shaky breath, abruptly more aware of his hand through the thin material of her dress.

They hadn’t done anything.

Even the night when she ended up staying over at his, after lasagne and wine, they hadn’t done anything.

The painting made it look like they had, though. She wasn’t even sure she could accuse Julian of exactly making it up, either.

He had painted the truth. Raw. Even when it would have been politer to hide it.

“Oh,” she said. “Wow. Um. Julian—”

“Happy Birthday,” he murmured. “For tomorrow.”

His hand moved up to the back of her neck and all of the colours of the painting swirled and rushed forward to meet her.

“Oh, and Annabelle?” His voice sounded very far away. “This is the bit where you stop talking.”

***

Annabelle had been thirty for nearly a month. Well, not exactly.

They all said that she looked amazing. So realistic.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel her body. But, she could watch, from her frame.

She’d watched as Julian approached her with a paintbrush dipped in varnish – to seal the work – and she’d watched with her world turned sideways as they carried her canvas from the studio to the gallery.

She’d watched as they hung her up on the wall and made comments about her like she wasn’t there at all.

She’d screamed, too, or tried to. They hadn’t been able to hear her.

Julian had approached her again when they were alone, hands in his pockets, perfectly relaxed and pleased with himself.

“It’s a good trick, isn’t it? I’ve always had the knack of turning people into portraits.” He’d flashed her the same quick, reassuring smile he always did as he peered up at her. “As I said, it’s all about getting to know the person. Getting them to pour their soul out to you.”

He’d laughed, like he so often did, only this time it was at his own joke instead of hers. Or maybe she had always been the joke.

“I did worry for a moment that I wouldn’t be finished in time. But, don’t worry. We made it. You’re twenty-nine forever! Just like you wanted. Just like I promised. I’m not that cruel.”

She’d wanted to tell him that this was not what she’d wanted. She wanted to ask a million questions. She wanted to punch him.

Instead, Annabelle watched as Camille stepped into the exhibition room, on opening night.

She watched Camille scan the crowd, feverishly, expecting her to be there.

She watched as Camille’s attention snagged on the vast painting of her across the room.

God, Camille.

Her girlfriend made a beeline over. It had been an age since Annabelle had last looked at her, properly looked at her, hadn’t it?

Camille’s face crumpled a little as she studied the portrait; a myriad of regret and fear and confusion. Hurt. Her eyes were red and swollen like she’d been crying. She raised one hand towards Annabelle’s life-sized face, as if to touch, but didn’t. Her fists curled at her sides instead.

Guilt twisted in Annabelle’s gut. Camille looked exactly like how one might when learning that their girlfriend had cheated on them.

She felt an absurd surge of hope, despite everything, that Camille might see her where no one other than Julian had. The portrait, for all of its intimacies, suggested a grand love affair. People didn’t vanish fairly from grand love affairs, they just didn’t! It was suspicious, right? He was the last person to see her. The proof was in the painting!

Camille stared at her for a moment longer, her jaw set with grim determination. Then she scrubbed a hand over her face. Her shoulders hunched against some unbearable, undefinable weight. Her dark hair was greasy with worry.

“I’ll find you,” Camille still whispered. “I swear, I’ll find you.”

Annabelle’s stomach sank.

“No, Camille—” Of course, the words didn't come out. Nothing did.

She’d had been such an idiot, hadn’t she?

She felt a fresh stab of longing for that surprise birthday party.

How long had they waited for her to arrive? Waited for her.

Had Camille reported her missing? There would be no body to find, no evidence. The painting, the wanting limited eyes she looked out of, felt like a mockery.

Maybe the life she had with Camille hadn’t been perfect, not by a long shot, but at least they’d been alive. At least they’d been real.

Camille began to turn away.

“Please.” Annabelle’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry. I’m here, please. Don’t leave me! Camille!”

More attendees bustled to claim prime spot in front of the painting, murmuring about how talented Julian was, speculating on if Annabelle was his lover. Camille flinched.

“It makes me feel,” one of gallery attendees said, “like I’m interrupting them in a private moment, you know? Of course, it’s so Julian that she’s not actually a nude—”

She couldn’t see Camille anymore.

She was never going to see Camille again, was she?

CAMILLE. CAMILLE. CAMILLE.

Annabelle screamed it with everything she had, every atom of her, with the absolute certainty that if her girlfriend walked out the gallery door that Annabelle would never escape the painting.

She would never get to say sorry, or kiss Camille, or tell her properly that nothing had happened or would ever have happened, despite what she may have let her foolish heart feel.

She’d just liked the way he looked at her.

She didn’t want to stop the clock.

She wanted her life back, to live.

The painting hit the floor of the exhibition with an almighty crash.

Everyone scattered back. Red wine spilled like a crime scene against the polished floor.

Camille whirled back around too, alone a few metres away, her eyes wide and startled.

Julian appeared, clutching a glass of champagne in one hand.

“Goddamn these hooks. Who set this up? It’s a hazard. Everyone alright?” He looked around at his adoring fans, and summoned up a rueful smile. “I should have just got eyes to follow you all around the room instead, huh?” He looked down at her, where she stared up, in the same narrow periphery vision he’d painted her with. “Really leaned into the photorealism.”

Past him, past his taunts, Camille looked between the two of them. Uncertain misery flashed across her features once more. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, before closing it.

Annabelle willed her painted self to move again too, to speak, to do anything. She willed Camille to question, to press, to not give up on them and on her. Not now.

“Camille!” Julian had caught sight of her too, and straightened. He gestured for one of the gallery employees to get Annabelle back into position. “I’m so glad you could make it! Is Annabelle not with you? She was so excited for the exhibition…”

“You haven’t seen her?” Camille’s voice broke. “I – I thought she’d be here, at least. With you.”

“With me?” Julian spoke mildly. Innocently. “No, no. I haven’t seen her. I thought she was with you. Is something wrong?” His tone gentled, as he walked towards Camille. “She mentioned you’d been having some problems…”

“No – it wasn’t like that – Camille—”

Crowds swarmed Annabelle’s painted self once more. She was lifted back on the wall, as if nothing had happened.

"Let me get you a drink," Julian said. "You can tell me everything."

She caught a glimpse of Julian's arm wrapped around Camille's waist. The way she leaned into him, looked up at him. His lips by her ear.

"Camille—"

By the time the room cleared, they were already gone.

#the last of these stories I swear #turning 30 #short story #horror #fiction #writing #creative writing #writeblr #getting rid of the archive just in case #idk what to tell you #art #magical realism

586 notes · View notes