#Unraveling Oliver | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

barbiedragon · 25 days

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Better Dig Two

HOTD: Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!reader x Alicent Hightower

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

WC: 3.2k

Warnings: Dub-Con/borderline Non-Con, kidnapping, bondage (Alicent in chains), voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, oral, pussy slapping, coercion/manipulation, Dark!Rhaenyra, minor pet play, power imbalance (please mind the warnings before reading)

For an anon request who asked for Alicent x reader x Rhaenyra where both want reader: tension, jealousy, anything you want

The Dance wages on and you are used as a pawn by Rhaenyra to bring Alicent to heel

*comments/reblogs are appreciated

Hatred. Tis a funny thing. One can be so consumed by it that it will no doubt destroy everything in its path. It burns hotter than dragonfire. Can cut deeper than any fine sword. Leaving festering seeds behind, only to bloom again in a twisted rose. Repeating the cycle until there is nothing left.

You had served alongside Princess Rhaenyra as one of her handmaids, growing close to her and Lady Alicent. The three of you were thick as thieves until fate tore it asunder. Alicent married King Viserys, and you were instructed to serve her at Otto Hightower's insistence. You would never forget the bitter tears rolling down Rhaenyra’s cheeks, her purple eyes boring into yours.

“It will never cease…they will take everything from me.” The way her voice cracked made your heart do the same.

You dismissed her comment as childish anger, for which you did not blame her. She had lost her mother, her brother, and her most trusted companion. Her uncle had long been exiled, occupying her seat at Dragonstone, and now you had been pulled away from her. You assured her how much you cared for her and wished this wasn’t so. Yet she said nothing as you departed her chambers, staring angrily at a stone wall as she clenched her fists. At the time, you did not know it was the beginning of the end. The first seed planted deep in the soil.

The first buds blossomed with the birth of Aegon. You knew Rhaenyra had always longed for siblings, yet this was not the way she desired. A half-brother birthed by her former friend. A constant reminder of Alicent’s union with her father. You knew she did not hate the boy, but you could not blame her for jealousy. You watched as she was pushed into the background, fading away along with the tapestries as the new heir rejoiced.

“No one is here for me.” Her tiny voice trembling.

How you longed to pull her into your arms to comfort her, wipe away her tears, and tell her, I am here for you; I will always be here for you. You wished to tell her how Alicent cried herself to sleep most nights with her head in your lap as you assuaged her fears and did your best to guide her. What did you know? You were as green as them, forced to be caretaker so Alicent did not crumble, while Rhaenyra came apart at the seams as you were forced to watch. Young ladies still embedded in childhood, forced to become women before their time.

The vines grew as the year passed, and the division became more prominent with the birth of Rhaenyra’s children. You clung to the small hope as Rhaenyra extended an olive branch, allowing you to hold Jacaerys in your arms. Motherhood seemed to suit her. He was a precious babe with dark curls and a button nose. You loved him as dearly as Alicent’s children. For a time, the riff seemed mended between you and Rhaenyra, spending your days helping to mind her and Alicent’s children. All held special places in your heart.

“She is brazen, parading them about the castle as if she’s done nothing wrong,” Alicent hissed, pressing her thumb to her lips.

“Hush,” you admonished, stepping over to take hold of her hands.

“But it is the truth! We all know it yet dare not speak it.” Her dark eyes watered with unshed tears.

“You have no such proof. Do not be foolish, Your Grace. These words are best left in secret; these accusations would unravel and cause unrest in the realm,” you sighed, kissing her lips softly. A deep love had bloomed, and you spent most evenings warming her bed instead of the King as his health faded.

“What would I do without you by my side?” Alicent sighed softly, her wet lashes fluttering, “I shall be more mindful of my tongue.”

You had little idea then that your words would serve as a potent of events to come.

“I hear you are departing to Dragonstone, princess,” you murmured as you stepped into Rhaenyra’s sparse chambers, most items to be whisked away to her ancestral seat.

“Long overdue. My welcome here is worn out,” she said, offering you a sad smile.

“I suppose nothing I can say will convince you to stay?”

“Hmm, and I suppose nothing I can say will convince you to come with me? I would love to have you alongside me again.” She stepped forward, gently placing her hand over yours. Your eyes met, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Part of you was tempted to say yes and run away with her.

“I would love to visit you from time to time. Alicent needs me.”

“I needed you…” The betrayal bloomed across Rhaenyra’s face. She pulled away and clasped her hands tightly, slowly twisting the ring around her middle finger. “I was foolish to ever believe you cared for me. It is clear to see your loyalties lie with her.”

“Rhaenyra, that is the furthest thing from the truth. I have always cared about you both very deeply. None of us chose the lives we were dealt.”

“I am offering you a choice now…to come with me.”

You faltered for a moment. “I…cannot.”

Her mouth set into a thin line. “You are welcome to visit at Dragonstone. I must finish seeing to preparations,” she said in a clipped tone, spinning around and leaving you to stand alone in the room, feeling sorrowful. You had inadvertently chosen a side, though the truth was you belonged to neither. You did not wish for things to be this way.

The vines twisted and ensnared as the Dance waged, entangling all in the process. The Gods do not discriminate; the Stranger will come for all in the end –for some, sooner than others. You wept when the twins lost Laena, when Aemond lost his eye, when Lucerys was slain, and the twisted babe torn from Rhaenyra��s womb too soon. The night Otto Hightower was replaced as the Hand, you found yourself on your knees in prayer in the Sept. Your screams echoed through the vacant room as you were dragged away. A hard slap to the face quieted you, making the world drown in black—the hatred now in full bloom, vines twisting around everyone in its path.

When you woke, your eyes adjusted to the bright flicker of candles as you pressed a hand to your pounding forehead. You squinted at the sound of boots clicking against the floor, lifting your gaze to find yourself staring up at Rhaneyra. She reached a hand down, gently cupping your cheek.

“It has been far too long,” she whispered, “Forgive me, but I mean to end this war.”

Broken words tumbled from your dry mouth as her thumb stroked the soft skin of your cheek.

“You mean to use me as a pawn?” you whispered, finding the words to say.

“She will come for you. You are not one she will allow to be slaughtered. I know how you have warmed her bed during these nights,” Rhaenyra stated.

You felt the blood drain from your body. “I do not…”

“Hush, Daemon had spies all over the Red Keep. Secrets are not kept for long. I expect her arrival within a sennight, if not sooner. You will be treated well during your stay here.”

“You mean during my imprisonment?” you sneered.

“This is hardly as such. Be thankful you are kept in a room afforded fine food and clothing. You could easily be stripped naked and thrown into the bowels of the castle. I will overlook your disrespect for now, but remember I am the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and will be addressed properly.” She patted your cheek before departing, leaving you with salty tears streaming down your face.

Alicent arrived at Dragonstone three days later with Ser Arryk by her side, ignoring the pleas and instructions of her children and Ser Criston. You seemed of great importance to her, and she did not want your blood on her hands. So many lives had been claimed already; she did not want you added to the count. Ser Erryk exchanged a look with his twin before escorting Alicent to Rhaenyra’s chambers, where you waited by her side.

“Oh, thank the Seven; you are alive and well,” Alicent breathed, clutching her chest when she saw you.

“Thank you, Ser Erryk. Please return to your post outside my doors,” Rhaenyra instructed him, giving a slight nod of her head. She circled Alicent, regarding her as prey, with the golden crown perched on top of her silver head.

“You did not state terms in your letter, Rhaenyra, except that I was to come alone. State them now,” Alicent instructed.

Rhaenyra snatched hold of Alicent’s chin, her fingers digging into the dowager queen’s delicate flesh.

“I am your queen. Address me as such.”

“Yet my son sits the throne.”

Rhaenrya shoved Alicent back, fire blazing in her amethyst eyes. You swallowed, wringing your hands, recognizing she had hardened during the Dance. She turned away from Alicent, facing you, before grabbing your hand and pressing a dagger into your palm.

“Undress her,” she commanded, voice like steel.

“Rhaenyra…” Your voice trembled.

“Do as your queen commands.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

You silently mouthed an apology to Alicent before using your fingers and the blade to remove her clothing until she stood as bare as her name day before you and Rhaenyra. Heat bloomed across her cheeks, turning them pink. She attempted to use her arms for coverage, to protect some of her modesty. You averted your gaze, glancing down at your feet.

“No need to be shy. I am sure she has often seen you in such a state.”

“Your sharp tongue cuts deep, step-daughter,” Alicent drolled.

“You have never been a mother to me, nor I a daughter to you. Let us not pretend.” Rhaenyra spun on her heel, walking over to a large, ornate chest at the foot of the bed.

“We were once friends, all of us, at one point. Surely, you remember that,” Alicent said, shivering even though the fire blazed in the hearth.

“I have not forgotten, nor have I forgotten, what you have taken from me over the years. My father, my friend, and now my throne. If you truly cared for me, you would not have stolen my birthright.”

“Your father told me he wished for Aegon to sit on the throne before his death,” Alicent pleaded.

“How convenient that no one else was there to witness it.” She bent, reaching deep into the chest to retrieve what she wanted. You gasped when you saw the manacles in her hands.

“I swear to you….”

“Silence! I do not wish to hear any more of your lies or pleas,” Rhaenyra snapped before narrowing her eyes at you, “Chain the traitor.”

“Your Grace…” you stammered.

“She is not your queen,” Alicent argued.

“She is. She is my queen and should sit on the throne, which Viserys had wanted. Oaths were sworn. I have kept quiet all these years when I should not. But I will not assist in helping you murder Alicent, Rhaenyra,” you stated.

A smile curved over her ruby lips. “I have no intention of murdering her or even laying a finger on her. I only wish for her to suffer humiliation. The way she made me suffer all those years.”

The chains were heavy in your hand as you shuffled forward, snapping the shackles in place around Alicent’s neck, wrists, and ankles. You ghosted your fingers over her bare body in the hopes of providing a comforting touch. Rhaenyra moved behind you, sliding her hands over your hips and making you jump slightly. Her lips brushed over the curve of your neck.

“You will watch as I take something from you, the one we both loved,” she purred against your warm skin, though her eyes were locked on Alicent.

You shivered, watching Alicent’s brown eyes widen as Rhaenyra began to unlace your gown. Soon, you stood as naked as Alicent with Rhaenyra’s hands roamed your body, squeezing your breasts and stroking your soft stomach.

“Tell me you want this, sweetling,” she cooed.

“I want this, I want you,” you whispered, unsure if you were telling the truth or a lie. Her fingers pinched your pebbled nipples as Alicent was forced to watch. One of Rhaenyra’s fingers hooked under your chin, tilting your face to claim you in a hungry kiss. You found yourself melting against her. She guided you toward the bed, instructing you to undress her. You tangled between the sheets with her, squeezing handfuls of warm flesh, very aware Alicent could see the whole scene transpire. Guilt gnawed deep in your stomach, mixing with the arousal pooling through you.

It felt rather exciting and bawdy to have Alicent watching you with Rhaenyra. The Targaryen woman braced you between her parted thighs, her hardened nipples brushing over your smooth back as one of her hands traced down your belly. Her fingers toyed with your wetness; the slickness spread over her while her foot nudged your legs to open further. You whined with slight humiliation as your engorged, damp cunt came into full view for Alicent to see. Rhaenyra’s fingers continued to stroke and tease you before sinking inside. A wet squelch filled the room.

Through your hazy vision, you could see the tears splattered across Alicent’s cheeks while Rhaenyra pleasured you. Her teeth nippled at your soft skin as her fingers curled, hitting a sensitive spot inside you that made your thighs tremble.

“Your Grace,” you moaned.

“Do you enjoy your queen’s fingers buried in your pretty little cunny? Tell me, does Alicent make you feel this good?”

You bucked against Rhaenyra’s hand. “Y….yes.”

She stilled her movements, slipping her fingers from the warm confines of your cunt before delivering a sharp slap to your tender, heated flesh. Almost as if she was displeased with your answer. You yelped softly.

“Tell me, Alicent, do you wish this were you?” Rhaenyra taunted.

Alicent remained silent, a stoic look on her face. Rhaenyra slapped your cunt again.

“I demand you answer your queen.”

Alicent gritted her teeth, anger flashing in her molten eyes as she refused to answer.

“For once in your life, tell the truth. Let it set you free.” Rhaenyra’s voice was sweet as honey as her palm blazed across your dripping cunt.

“Yes, I wish it was me!” Alicent choked out. Rhaenyra’s fingers gently stroked your abused flesh before finding your swollen pearl.

“And which position do you wish to be in?”

Alicent’s lower lip wobbled before she answered. “Hers.”

You mewled with pleasure as Rhaenyra stroked your pearl with precise tenderness. A few more gentle rubs and you spilled your release over her ringed fingers while the blessed peak trembled through your body.

“Does it feel good to admit it out loud?” Rhaenyra cooed, pressing her coated fingers to her mouth to suckle clean.

“I suppose,” Alicent whispered.

“Bend the knee, remove Aegon from the throne, and you shall have me. You shall have us.”

“I wish it was simple…”

“Bring your mistress to me,” Rhaenyra whispered in your ear.

You stood on trembling legs, limbs stiff and rigid, hard to move as you took hold of Alicent’s chains, dragging her over to Rhaenyra. Alicent slowly shuffled forward, weighed down by the restraints.

“I do not need it to be simple; I need your assistance. Will you give it to me?”

“Y…yes, Your Grace,” Alicent murmured – a broken and bound woman.

“Then bend the knee.”

Slowly, Alicent sunk to her knees in front of Rhaenyra, defeat heavy on her rounded shoulders. Rhaenyra’s hand tangled in Alicent’s thick, auburn curls, drawing her closer before rubbing her cunt against Alicent’s mouth. From your spot behind Alicent, you watched her pink tongue dart out to savor Rhaenyra’s taste, sliding between the queen’s slick folds.

“There we are, such a good girl.”

The chains prevented Alicent from touching Rhaenyra as the queen used her for pleasure. Alicent’s chin and mouth were shiny with Rhaenyra’s release by the time they were finished, Alicent’s arousal pooled onto the marbles beneath her.

“I am so delighted we could come to a consensus.” She patted Alicent’s cheek fondly as an almost cruel smile overtook her face.

You shivered in anticipation and knelt beside Alicent while waiting for Rhaenyra to enter the room, furs soft beneath your knees. Each of you donned a shimmering choker of onyx and rubies, complementing the naked skin shimmering in the firelight. The doors parted, and Rhaenyra stepped through, shoulders firmly set and head held high. She wore the crown well. A warm smile crossed her face while she caressed your and Alicent’s cheeks.

“My beautiful pets. I have had such a long, exhausting day,” she sighed.

“Allow us to tend to you, Your Grace,” Alicent purred, nuzzling into Rhaenyra’s palm.

“Sounds most wonderful.” You nibbled softly at her fingertips.

You and Alicent cocooned Rhaenyra’s naked body, leaving kisses and soft grazes as you worshipped her. Expert hands maneuvering and massaging her flesh to help the stress melt away. Your mouth wrapped around her rosy nipples as Alicent’s tongue dipped into Rhaenyra’s cunt. Listening to her sweet, raspy moans was lovely as she fell apart under your skilled hands. How dutiful you and Alicent were to her, serving your mistress and queen exceptionally well.

Once she had reached three peaks, her juices coating you and Alicent, she pulled each close by the glimmering collars. Her mouth sealed over yours first, tasting herself on your tongue, then did the same with Alicent. You curved against one side, Alicent on the other, with soft fur draped across the three of you. Rhaenyra’s fingers twirled one of Alicent’s curls around her finger as her hand stroked your lower back before curving around the soft flesh of your pert arse.

“I think I shall sleep in on the morrow and spend the morning in bliss with my sweet pets instead of entertaining the foolish men of the realm,” Rhaenyra mused.

“Now, now, no need to neglect your duties,” Alicent chided, squealing as Rhaenyra’s palm slapped her naked rump.

“I am the queen, and I may do as I please,” Rhaenyra purred, nipping at Alicent’s full lips as she tenderly rubbed her skin.

“Indeed, do forgive me,” Alicent begged.

“Always, sweetling. I treasure you both so.”

You snuggled in close, reaching a hand out across Rhaenrya’s belly, tangling your fingers with Alicent’s. It was finally the three of you, just as it should have been from the very beginning.

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timesofocean · 2 years

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Uk's Boris Johnson seeks to stay in power until the mid-2030s

New Post has been published on https://www.timesofocean.com/uks-boris-johnson-seeks-to-stay-in-power-until-the-mid-2030s/

Uk's Boris Johnson seeks to stay in power until the mid-2030s

Kigali (The Times Groupe)- British Prime Minister Boris Johnson declared on Saturday he intends to remain in power until the middle of the next decade, despite calls for him to quit, making him the longest-serving leader in the country’s history. conservative

Boris Johnson survived a vote of confidence by Conservative lawmakers earlier this month, in which 41% voted to oust him. He is being investigated for deliberately misleading the House of Commons.

Conservative candidates lost two parliamentary by-elections held on Friday to replace Conservative incumbents who resigned after being convicted of sexual assault and watching pornography in the House of Commons, respectively.

As a result of a scandal over illegal parties held at Downing Street during Coronavirus lockdowns, Johnson’s broad voter appeal which helped him win a large parliamentary majority in December 2019 may be fraying.

For another year, Conservative lawmakers cannot challenge Johnson formally, but dissatisfaction or resignations by senior ministers could undermine his position.

With inflation at a 40-year high, Britain is also experiencing its deepest cost-of-living crisis in decades.

After the by-election losses, Conservative party chairman Oliver Dowden resigned and former party leader Michael Howard said Johnson should go.

To reduce regional economic disparities and make changes to Britain’s legal and immigration systems, Johnson said he would serve a third term as prime minister and remain in office until the middle of the 2030s.

“At the moment I am thinking actively about the third term and, you know, what could happen then. But I will review it when I get to it,” Johnson told reporters in Rwanda on the final day of a visit for a Commonwealth summit.

Asked what he meant, Johnson said: “About the third term … this is the mid-2030s.”

In order for Johnson to call the next national election by December 2024, he must win a third election by 2029.

Until early 2031, he would become the longest continuously serving British prime minister since Robert Banks Jenkinson, the Earl of Liverpool, who served from 1812 to 1827.

According to Johnson, he did not expect to face another internal challenge within his party, and he faulted the by-election defeats partly on months of media coverage of lockdown parties in power.

“People were fed up of hearing about things I had stuffed up, or allegedly stuffed up, or whatever, this endless – completely legitimate, but endless – churn of news,” he said.

He rejected the notion that he should change his behavior earlier on Saturday, according to BBC radio.

“If you’re saying you want me to undergo some sort of psychological transformation, I think that our listeners would know that that … is not going to happen.”

In The Times newspaper, Johnson declined to comment on a report that he planned to have a donor fund a 150,000-pound ($184,000) treehouse for his son at his state-provided country home.

The story comes months after his party was fined for failing to accurately report a donation that helped fund the refurbishment of his Downing Street apartment.

“I won’t comment on non-existent objects,” Johnson replied when asked if a donor’s money would be used to build the treehouse. power

($1 = 0.82 pounds)

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keraxxx · 4 months

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Hate or Jealousy? -Part one

Pairing- Oliver Quick x F!Reader

Summary- When your cousin, Felix, invited his friend Oliver over to Saltburn for the summer, you hated him and didn’t know why.. you want to figure out his intentions.

Warnings- Cursing, possible mentions of ed, slightly bitchy reader(js spoiled n rich so), masturbation, possible stalking, not proof read

A/N-Happy new year! I hope everything is going well for you guys. I just watched Saltburn last night and OH MY GOD. I had to pause the movie a few times and think abt what I had just watched. Still an amazing movie of course and ik I had to write something about Oliver. so enjoy!! (inspo is from venetia and oliver's interactions.) word count- 1.4k

comment to be added to tag list. NEXT PART HERE

Requests are open!

—

For some reason, you didn't like Oliver. You didn't like the way he looked at you when Felix first invited him, it was as if he was trying to undress you with his eyes.. Did you hate him? Were you jealous of him? Or did you find him slightly attractive? You couldn't make up your mind. It was all over the place, emotions poking and showing on your face as you looked at him almost in a judgmental way. You think it was also the way he acted, all sweet and innocent.. his eyes showed someone different. He's hiding himself. but why?

Everyone is sitting at the table, Felix sat next to you and Oliver is sitting across. Everyone is conversing as normal, but you stay silent, nothing in the conversation is peaking your interest since your aunt, Elspeth, is just gossiping. You pick at your plate with your fork, unable to eat a single thing, your free hand messing with the silky fabric of your red dress. You look across the table and look at Oliver, practically glaring at him without a care. His features weren’t bad if you were being honest with yourself. It’s almost as if he knew you were looking at him because he diverts his attention to you quickly. You look back down at your plate, embarrassed he saw you. You saw him smile before getting back into the conversation with the family again.

After dinner, everyone disperses to their room and you walk back to your room. You sigh as you lay down on your bed, spreading out onto the duvet. You curl your pillow in your arms and rest your chin on it. Sighing, you kick your legs up behind you, swaying slightly as you think to yourself.. you think about Oliver. You couldn’t get him out of your head. Why was he so interesting to you? Something about him made you want to investigate him, figure out his intentions but it’s too early to do that now since he just got here. Time passes and you’re still lying down thinking about the whole situation, unable to sleep. Sighing, you hop off your bed and walk out your room.

You sit on a stone bench near the garden, hugging your cold goosebump filled arms as you look out into the distance. You hear footsteps and turn your head to see Oliver, wrapped up in a blanket you assumed he took off his bed. You raise your eyebrow curiously as you look him up and down. “I thought you were sleepwalking.” He chuckles slightly and looks down at you timidly. “Yeah no.” You force a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep , that’s all.” Oliver unravels himself and puts the blanket over your shoulders. “It’s cold out.” He says in a soft tone, puffing out his chest as he inhales. You scan over his boxer briefs with a hidden smirk, his tone arms and stomach staring back at you. “Are you not cold?”

You snap out of your trance and look up. “I am actually. Thanks.” You laugh dryly as you maintain eye contact. Oliver doesn't break it, he keeps his blue eyes locked on yours with an almost untrue smile. "Are you not cold?" You laugh as you refer to his almost naked body. He shakes his head and laughs embarrassedly. "N-No.. i'm fine." You nod your head and eventually look away.

"I see why Felix likes you." Oliver hums in confusion. "You're different.." You stand up, hugging the blanket around you still. "But.. I see you, Ollie." You whisper as you get closer. "I see you hiding." His lips tug up into a small smirk. "Yeah?"

"Yeah.." You look him up and down one last time before walking off, taking the blanket he gave you. His eyes were burning a hole in the back of your head as he watched you with a smug expression.

Next morning comes and as usual, the whole family is gathered up again, eating breakfast. Oliver comes and sits in the empty seat next to you. You look down at your thighs and clear your throat before taking a sip of your drink. Oliver conversates with your aunt, attempting to be nice. You look across the table to Felix and hum knowingly. He laughs as he looks at you, shaking his head before going back to eating.

After eating, you, Farleigh, Felix, Venetia, and Oliver hang out near the small lake. You and Farleigh are sitting next to Venetia on the dock, her hair in the water as she lays on her back, Felix and Oliver sitting on some chairs by the side.

"I don't think I like him." You say softly as you look over at him and Felix conversing. "Well he is Felix's toy.." "And we know Felix doesn't like sharing his toys." Venetia says in a teasing yet sarcastic tone. "True.." You hum as you bring your knees to your chest. "You think he'll last long?" You look at them both and they quickly shake their heads no.

"I think Felix is gonna get bored of him soon. He's so clingy.. and he was a nerd no one wanted to sit with at college so." Farleigh shrugs as he tugs at his curls. You stifle a giggle and roll your eyes sarcastically. "Oh stop.. he's such a sweet boy." You say in a softer tone. "Lets not lie now." Venetia scoffs before she laughs. You look over at Oliver again and you can see him eyeing you down.. that same stare that he did when you first met. He's undressing you again. You look away with a small eye roll and continue your conversation with Farleigh and Venetia. "I swear he's hiding something.." You scoff as you look down at your knees. "He's always looking at me as if he's trying to see how much i'm worth.." Venetia lifts her sunglasses up to the top of her head and looks at him. "Maybe he wants to get in your pants." She teases. You and Farleigh laugh and you gently hit her arm.

Its dinner time again and this time you're wearing a long white dress with a fold-over off shoulder look. You're picking at your food, again, still processing Oliver in your head. He needed to get out of your head for god's sake, you didn't like the boy. "So Oliver.." Elspeth starts, "How are you finding it here?" She looks at him with a smile and he smiles back. "Uh- Yeah.. yeah it's nice. I get lost sometimes but I find my way." "Good." She smiles and takes a sip of her red wine. Oliver looks down at his plate with a smile as the small chatter around the table starts up again. He looks up at you and you look back. "Did you ever go to sleep last night?" He asks in a restrained voice, just loud enough for you to hear. You nod slowly. "Mhm.." He smiles at your response. "Good." His words stuck to you, as if he wanted you to say yes.. almost as if you obeyed him in some way. You look down and drag your teeth along your bottom lip, feeling some sort of arousal course through your body, finding its way to your core. You just had to get through dinner.

Dinner is done and thank god it was. You felt as if you were about to burst, it was dreadful. You go to your bathroom, making sure to shut the door, and draw yourself a bath. You run your hand under the water, checking the temperature and immediately hum in satisfaction. You strip yourself of your dress and undergarments, leaving them on the floor by the tub. You sink into the tub, moaning at the nice feeling of warm water against your frigid body. You hum to yourself as you snake you hand under the water and down your stomach, finding your swollen bud. You let out a soft groan as you slowly move your digits against your clit, your hips moving in rhythm. You tilt your head back against the edge of the tub, your mouth left open as you let out inaudible moans. You had yourself yearning for more, the only image in your head is the man you hate, Oliver. You replaced your hand with his, imaging he was with you at the moment rubbing your soaking wet cunt. You whined and moved your fingers faster, your legs lifting up slightly. You bite your lip and cursed to yourself as you felt yourself growing closer to release, your eyes fluttering close. You wanted him so bad but you fucking hated him.

Your whines and whimpers fill the bathroom, probably almost loud enough for the whole manor to hear. You could just imagine him kissing on your neck while he fingers you against the counter of your bathroom, forcing you to look in the mirror while you moan out his name. Your juices dripping down his hand and his groans against your neck vibrating your body. You feel a knot forming in your stomach and you eagerly buck yourself into your hand while you moan uncontrollably. Your back arches and you can your legs shake slightly as you finish. You pant, pulling you hand off your clit. You exhale as your eyes open slightly. Turning your head, you look at the door and noticed it was cracked open. You swore you had shut the door and you bite your lip nervously.

Was someone watching you?

#smut #x reader #fem reader #imagine #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #oliver quick #oliver quick smut #saltburn imagine #saltburn movie #felix catton #barry keoghan #barry keoghan smut

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perrywrites · 6 months

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Asking “Can you… Can you hold my hand?” during your first time together, part 2;

NSFW

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and part 3 (Reo, Chigiri, Nagi) and part 4 (Rin, Sae, Kunigami) and part 5 (Otoya, Oliver, Yukimiya) and part 6 (Kaiser, Ness, Kiyora)

Includes; Barou, Shidou, Karasu

Barou: ever so stringent with his principles, he makes you come on his fingers first, gaze dark and hungry as he looks on at your expressions twisting and body writhing in ecstasy. Rough hands grabby and kisses so overpowering you can only whimper and accept his domination, just the way he likes it. That’s how you’re supposed to be, submissive and pliant, all weak whimpers and powerless for him, and just him. He can barely restrain himself, grip tense and firm on your hips as he positions himself. He has prepared you enough, right? He can take what he wants now, right? He’ll stop if you say no. He will, he really will, even if his cock is painful, angry-looking, like it’s about to burst. He will stop, but God knows, he really doesn’t want you to say no right now. You don’t say no, but you do make a request that makes a growl come out from the back of his throat. You’re so powerless beneath him, helpless, eyes large and watery, he has to be careful with you, he remembers, his hand awkwardly reaching out to yours to give you the intimacy you yearn for. Gently, far too gently, like you’re already his wedded wife, he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. You’re his woman after all, if he can’t even satisfy you and take care of you, he’s a failure as a partner. He pulls away from your forehead, and asks you yet again if you’re ready. He asks, holding back the urges telling him to just rail you and make you cry on his cock. That’ll come, and it’ll come later, once he’s taken your virginity, once you’re begging for his cock, begging for him to fuck you like he wants to fuck you. You’re his woman after all, there’s no way you won’t be begging for more once he’s done with you.

Shidou: you’re finally letting him do this with you, have you like this, weak and vulnerable under his touch. He’s greedy and unrelenting with the way he keeps on kissing you, wet and hot - he wants to mess you up so bad, fuck. Yeah, make sure his name is the only thing on your mind, hm? His hands grope, his touch hungry and insatiable. Come on, don’t try and hide those pretty sounds, he knows you’re a naughty girl, huh? Shit, maybe even naughtier than him - that flushed expression of yours, eyes squeezed tightly as your lips quiver, so lewd. So fucking lewd. Can you make an ever dirtier expression? He bets he can make you make an even lewder face, have you moan and cry out like his own personal cockslut as he pounds into you. He wants to watch your eyes roll back, head tilted back as you arch your back, his name your every prayer. It’s so romantic that you’re letting him corrupt you like this, letting him see all those erotic expressions as you unravel under his touch and mouth - yet somehow you manage to draw him in even closer. You want him to hold your hand? Was it not enough to ensnare him like a siren? Fuck, yeah, he’ll hold your hand, he’ll fuck you and keep holding onto your hand. He intertwines his hand with yours and then hikes up one of your legs over his shoulder. Love is so sweet, huh? He grins, manic; it’s going to be a long night. Hold on tight, because he’s not letting you go until your used body has satiated his hunger for you. He wants you to see you depraved and out of it, fucked dumb, a view only for him and no other man. You can give it to him, right? Well, he’s taking it either way. He loves you after all, even if it’s a little sick.

Karasu: he has you beneath him, exactly right where he wants. His touch is unrelenting, persistent, greedy - impatient to hear more of those sweet whimpers that are going straight down to his cock. Fuck, that voice, how do you sound so erotic yet sweet? He needs to make you cry on his cock, bet you’d sound even sweeter then, choking out his name and crying out in that broken voice of yours, face and body all flushed because of his ministrations. Oh, it’ll probably be even better than his imagination. He bites down on his bottom lip to suppress a low groan, panting slightly before he continues teasing you, his voice raspy and low, “Oh? Does it feel that good…? Come on, don’t fall apart yet, we haven’t even gotten to the main event yet, eh?” His hand drags down your sides and squeezes perversely the flesh of your thigh, enjoying the way you jump and the surprised mewl that spills from your bruised lips. Honestly, as much as he wants to drag this out, watch the tears pooling on your lash line spill down throughout the night as the moon ages, make you dumb and babbling before he takes you on his cock, you’re sounding too good. Way too good. He can’t wait any longer. He might just bust untouched at this rate. And that’s no good, right? So he has you spreading your legs for him then, encouraging you with naughty whispers that have you whimpering, and then he pauses as you mumble a shaky sentence. And then he chuckles, pulling himself up and away from the side of your face as he smirks down at you. You’re blushing, shaking, all shy, eyes misty and dazed, and oh god, he can’t take it anymore. He reaches out to your hand, firmly grabbing it and holding it down as he presses a surprisingly delicate kiss at your lips. Don’t be mistaken, though, that kiss might just be the last gentle thing of the night. He wanted to be gentle for your first time since you’re trusting him with it, but since you’ve said something so cute, riled him up so much, you can handle it if he completely ruins you on his cock, right? I mean, you’re his now. Don’t complain too much - or maybe you should do it. If you keep on babbling in that shaky whimpery voice of yours, he can promise you that you’re not going to be leaving that bed until the morning - if you can walk, that is.

#blue lock #bllk #bllk smut #blue lock smut #barou shouei #bllk barou #barou shoei x reader #barou x reader #barou smut #shidou ryusei #shidou x reader #bllk shidou #shidou smut #shidou x you #karasu tabito #karasu x reader #karasu x you #bllk karasu #karasu smut

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redheadspark · 8 months

Text

Fifth Floor Prt. 2

Summary - You and Oliver take full advantage of the Prefect's Bathroom

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, 18+ ONLY!

Part two of Fifth Floor

It surprised you: one minute you two were kissing and now you two were together in the bath on the throes of pleasure.

Both you and Oliver were not going to slow down as soon as you cast the charm along the door and walls into the Prefects Bathroom. The pent-up feelings you two kept to yourselves over the past few years since you graduated were now pouring out to one another, like a busted open dam. Yet it felt like it was right, stripping each other's clothes off while kissing and giggling. The serious tones of being consumed by one another never masked the playfulness either, which was almost a reflection of your relationship with one another anywho: serious and yet light. Of course, you were baffled when Oliver perched you on the edge of the tub that was now filled to the brim with hot water mixed with scented and enchanted bubbles.

His boldness came through as he gently pushed your legs open and licked into your folds like he was a starving student at a Feast.

Intense hot pleasure came through you ten told as he was between your legs, thankful that you could be as loud as you wanted since no one outside the room could hear your activities together. Yet it made Oliver persistent, listening to the cues on where to lick and where to kiss along your folds and inside your cunt. Almost like a devoted student, taking notes and knowing what makes you come undone and what made you whimper and writhe. You were unraveling in seconds since it's been some time since you had something like this with someone, his fingers gliding along your folds when he felt you shaking and close to orgasm. No matter how long you tried to hold out, it was closer than you thought.

Seeing him in front of you, his head between your shaking legs and his back muscles glistening and contracting made your head swim all the more. All of those times practicing and playing Quidditch was showing in his muscles along his backside and his arms. He memorized you, even with him giving gentle kitten licks along your sensitive clit. It made you fall back against the marble floor, moving your hips and trying to prolong the orgasm that was coming so fast.

Up right before you broke, you placed your hands in his brown tuffs of hair and felt your body move without your knowledge, rolling your hips into his face and finally feeling him suck your clit.

You fell with a howl, and Oliver thought of you as a gorgeous siren.

After a good moment or two of you calming yourself down, of Oliver watching you with wide eyes and a small glimmer of liquid on his chin and lips, you grinned widely like a Cheshire Cat at him as you pushed yourself back up into a sitting posting. Sinking into the water and feeling the temperature engulf your now sensitive skin, you sighed and moaned at the same time as you turned him around and made him lean against the bathtub wall. He went willingly, you pressing a hand against his hard and toned chest as he was how against the bathtub wall with nowhere else to go.

Slowly and without breaking eye contact with him, you reached your other hand down beneath the bubbles and felt his cock. Hard, a bit large for your hand to wrap all around, but it felt perfect in your hand as you gripped him tightly. Oliver inhaled sharply, his eyes going wide and his breath shaking as you started stroking him off under the water.

You never thought you would be in this kind of situation with your best friend, bringing in emended pleasure under the bubbles and water in a bathroom alone. But it was also a dream come true, being in his arms and blissfully happy. There would never be a right moment for something like this, Oliver reminded you of that moment before you both were in the throws of pleasure and lust like this.

But it felt right now, getting Oliver off as he was manning and biting his lower lips with every twist of your hand and every squeeze of your fingers. You could sense and see that he was trying not to be too loud, which seemed ironic since he made your moan crudely a moment before when he was licking into your cunt with vigor.

It should be the same for him.

You leaned up to kiss his neck and lick along his skin as your hand was moving a bit faster, feeling his hips shaking under the water and moving in sync with yours as his hands were gripping the sides of the tub, arms stretched out and his head thrown back.

"You can let it all out know you," You hummed against his jaw, kissing his neck once more with a bit of vigor as you pressed your bare chest against his, "No one will know we're in here, and they won't hear anything. You sound gorgeous like this, Oli,"

"F-f-fuck!" He moaned aloud as you traced your thumb along the tip of his cock. He was shaking, the water splashing the pair of you as you grinned wickedly and straddled one of his thighs. The hard muscle against your still sensitive cunt made you moan against his neck as your other hand raked in his brown hair and pulled hair. He moaned crudely, his head snapping back as you looked at his exposed neck and his trembling lips.

He looked beyond gorgeous to you.

Before you could say anything to him to make him come undone as he did with you, he moved one of his gripped hands from the bathtub wall and placed it on your arm in a death grip, making you stop stroking him since you thought you did something wrong. Your other hand released his hair, making his head snap back to look at you as you shot him a worried look.

"You okay?" You asked him, heading his labored breathing and how dilated his eyes were. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him or made this a bad experience, it would have pained you. Maybe you were too harsh or this was too quick. But he slowly grinned, his crimson lips and flushed cheeks should no sign of pain or uncomfortableness as you were searching his eyes. He leaned forward, kissing you soundly and gently in the water, making you melt and release his cocked as you framed his face.

To share a gentle moment in the throws of love seemed far too much, yet not enough. He kissed you gently and with no hint of urgency. There was more time in the world for you two to finally have each other, to be in love with one another, and you felt like Oliver wanted to savor every second with you.

"I don't wanna cum yet," He whispered against your lips, tracing your nose with his as you gulped, "Not when I wanna have ya here,"

That alone made your heart skip, feeling his hands go under the water and grab your hips as he too was not breaking your glance. He moved your swiftly, having you now against the wall and him crowding you as he kissed you over and over. His hands moved to trace and touch your breast, some bubbles slipping down your nipples and making you moan as he palmed them both while kissing down your neck and jawline. You felt as if you were boneless under his touch, his chest against yours as his mouth moved now to lick and suckle your breast, his thighs against your own under the water to make you feel his still hard cock near your own aching core.

It felt perfect, all of this felt perfect.

Releasing a nipple from his mouth with a pop, your eyes were glazed over as he leaned into you again and stared into your orbs to catch his breath, "I got ya, okay?"

You nodded your head, you two staring each other down as his spare hand reached down to take his cot in hand and guide himself into you. You felt it all through your bones and skin, through your veins as your eyes rolled back and you felt him slowly sink himself inside of you. The stretch felt like an ache, a good ache after being on a broom for far too long. It felt right, almost engrained within you as his cock snugged against your walls and you moaned loudly with no sign of being restrained. Your eyes were closing, not seeing how Oliver was watching you take him so well and how he wished he could etch this image in his mind. You were naked, covered in water and bubble, bare and open for him and only him.

He won't forget it ever in his life.

Oliver, once he was fully inside of you, waited for your to adjust for him as you took a long breath. It was a bit much, almost losing your breath as your thighs trembled under the water and against his own legs. You had to hold onto his neck for some kind of support as his hand under the water grasped one of your thighs. His other unoccupied hand was back out of the water and bracing the wall by your head as he kissed your face over and over.

"Okay?" He asked in a raspy voice, he too was feeling the immense pleasure of your walls keeping him inside of you. You whimpered and nodded your head as he grinned along your cheeks, "Merlin you feel fuckin' good. So…so good."

His hips were moving slowly, with deep hard thrusts that made you moan with each push. His hips were doing most of the work, the thrusts were deep enough and hard enough for you to melt against the wall but enough to make everything shake under your skin as you were taking everything he gave you. Oliver was not going fast, which made you wonder for a split second if he wished to. No, you could tell in how he was going at it that he wanted this to last, not a fast fuck.

"Yes….Merlin Yes…..Oli…FUCK!" You mewled as he hit that spot inside of you, hearing him growl for a moment as he was still fucking you in the tub. His hand that was holding your thigh was in a tight grip, not letting you sink as you clung onto his back of dear life, feeling your nails almost break the skin as your moans were getting louder and more vocal. His rhythm was consistent, not slowing down or going too fast just to drive you insane as you felt that feeling of an intense orgasm come over you again.

"I'm c-close, O-o-liver—" You were moaning into his neck as he huffed and stopped his thrusts. You were about to protest at him, teetering right on the edge of that pleasurable fall when he moved swiftly once again. Still inside of you, he leaned back a bit and scooped you in his arms, moving with ease to have his back against the wall once again and you in his lap. With his cock still buried deep inside of you, he peered up at you and saw the state you were in.

Naked and shaking from pleasure, hair plastered to your neck and backside, eyes wide and unhinged. He reached up, damp hand up to your neck to look at the image before you as he smiled. Being perched over Oliver made you feel almost powerful, untouchable, and yet you were still at his mercy. You too wished to savor this image in your mind forever, knowing you would never be the same.

His thumb traced your lower lip, his hips now moving up and down as his other hand under the water moved to touch your cunt, right over your clit. You keened, leaning over from the shock of pleasure as he gripped your neck and watched you get that high again. With his thumb on your clit, making sharp and small circles and his cock drilling into you, he was watching in utter fascination and wonderment.

"Cum for me," he whispered rapidly against your lips as he kissed you boldly, "I can feel you're close, aren't ya? I wanna feel it, all of it. Please, cum for-"

The orgasm you felt slammed you sideways and made you scream, your body going stiff from the pleasure that was now intensified up and down your body as you rode through every second of it. Oliver saw how your eyes shot wide, your body quivered in the still hot water, and your hands clenched onto his shoulders tight as he thrusts two more times before he too released with a loud moan.

You felt him unload inside of you, spreading inside of you to feel that warmth along your walls and make you moan some more as you collapsed on top of him. He wrapped you in his arms, still riding out his release as he thrust into your a few more times.

The pleasure was no long piping hot but a simmer, you both still shaking and each your breaths as Oliver gathered you in his arms and kissed you all over. You were grateful you were still in the tub, covered in water and bubbles to get some relief. Although he pulled out of you, he never once released you, placing you in his lap and kissing you soundly with a massive grin on his face.

"Merlin's Beard…that was…." You said, still unable to talk as Oliver grinned widely.

"I was thinking the same thing," He murmured, his voice uneven himself as he pressed his forehead against yours, "And to think we could have done this sooner if we weren't thick in the head,"

That made you giggle, curling into him some more as he was keeping you close in his arms. It was true, if you both weren't worried so much about the "what if's" and simply went with what you felt, then you would have this kind of love, this intimacy, way sooner. But life was strange in that way of course bringing you two back together in the aftermath of an almost catastrophic war that would have erased everything you knew and loved.

You decided then and there to live in the moment, leaning up to kiss him hotly.

30 minutes later, you two walked out of the Prefects Bathroom, dried off, and back in your old clothes. Heading back to the Great Hall and the Courtyard, you both walked side by side and held hands between the two of you, trying to hide the still evident flushness and blush on both of your cheeks.

Yet neither one of two saw Professor McGonagall near the Great Hall entrance watch you two walk out together, a knowing smile on her lips as she looked at her two old students and Gryffindor Alumni.

"Took those two long enough," She replied with a soft smile.

The End.

Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

#oliver wood x female reader #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood #oliver wood x y/n #fanfiction #writing #oliver wood smut #oliver wood x you #oliver wood imagines #harry potter smut #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter writing #hp fic #hp smut #hp fandom #hp fanfic

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totheblood · 8 months

Text

begging for rain. (two)

󠁐# TWO; the more you break

PAIRING: ex!ellie williams x nextdoorneighbor!reader

SUMMARY: moving to a new town can be tough, especially as you are trying to hold everything in your life together. after you meet ellie, your life completely changes, but for the better? well that's still up in the air

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x,

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

A/N :new chapter yay!! okay so like i'm setting a lot of stuff up and i know that so annoying and frustrating but i really need to paint a picture of dynamics so i hope u enjoy. AI AUDIOS AT THE END ! please please please like and reblog/reply/send asks, comments, the whole nine yards… it is so appreciated!

READ CHAPTER ONE HERE!!

TWO YEARS AGO

The first day of school went okay.

Inside the hallways, students pushed past each other, sweaty bodies mixing and mingling into a tangled mess. Blue lockers were lined up against the walls, many of them open as students shoved heavy textbooks inside them from their backpacks.

Ellie pushed past them like she was used to it, a ratty leather backpack hanging off her shoulder. Occasionally, she would look behind her to see if you were still following her. You always were.

You didn’t quite know where you were going. You knew your locker number was tucked deep inside your bag and whenever Ellie stopped at her locker was when you were going to pull it out and ask her to show you where it is. However, you were now feeling like you were slightly stalking Ellie and there was some truth to her words. When Ellie stopped at her locker, Locker 2094, she looked at you for only a moment before she was undoing the built-in lock.

“You know you can’t follow me all day,” she said dryly, lock clicking open and her locker door almost hitting you in the face. You decided it was time for you to get your locker number, pulling your bag to the front and unzipping the front pocket where your locker number and lock combination was written on a crumpled-up pink post-it note.

“I’m not following you, Ellie,” You rolled your eyes, unraveling the post-it note, “I was just waiting for a good time to find this.”

“And what is that?” She gave you a weird look and shoved a textbook in her locker, then another.

“My locker number,” You said simply, looking at the number and chuckling to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” She wasn’t looking at you anymore, just fishing around in her bag for anything she may have had to put in her locker.

“This is my locker,” You patted the one right next to Ellie’s, right where you were standing to the left of her, “Locker 2093.”

Ellie chuckled dryly again, closing her locker and leaning up against it as she watched you struggle to put your lock combination in, “You’ve taken this stalker thing too far.”

With a click, it popped open, empty and barren. You opened your bag and shoved the one textbook you had inside your locker, a smile planted on your face, “Yes, I’ve just been so obsessed with you since I saw you for the first time yesterday that I called the school district and got my locker to be next to yours.”

“Aha! So you admit it!” Ellie laughed, picking at her fingernails as she looked around the hallways, looking for familiar faces. A group of them walked up, all laughing and talking with each other as they circled Ellie around your locker.

“Hey, El,” a girl said, causing you to look up at her. She was pretty, too pretty. She had her black hair tied up in a ponytail, her skin was olive and slightly tanned, and she had some sun spots scattered across her face, pooling in a center near her nose. Next to her was a slightly taller and much paler girl with black hair cut right above her shoulder, the jagged and uneven edges indicating she cut it herself. Behind them, a much taller guy, with longer black hair and a kind face stood. He smiled at you, and you offered him a kind smile back. Be nice, you cursed, you’re here to make friends, you reminded yourself.

“Hey Dina,” Ellie smirked, leaning back against her locker and looking at the group, “I see your hair is already growing back, Cat,” Ellie reached forward to play with the edges of Cat’s hair before she swatted Ellie’s hands away from her and scoffed.

“You fucked up my hair and you know that,” Her tone of voice was playful at most, evidenced by the wide grin on her face. She was insanely pretty even with her hair all fucked up. You didn’t know why but it made your stomach churn. “Are you going to introduce us to your new friend, Ellie?”

Your eyes widened and darted to Ellie and then to the group, hoping embarrassment wasn’t written all over your face.

“This is Y/n,” Ellie smiled at you, jumping slightly when you slammed your locker shut, “She’s my new neighbor and stalker.”

“Hey!” You rolled your eyes, a smile still on your face, “I am her neighbor, but I’m not a stalker.”

“Ellie’s just too full of herself. Ignore her,” The girl in the ponytail stepped a little closer and extended a hand, “I’m Dina.”

You shook her hand, mumbling a ‘nice to meet you’ before shifting awkwardly and retracting your hand. The guy in the back raised his hand slightly and smiled at you, “I’m Jesse.”

“Nice to meet you, Jesse,” you then looked at the last girl waiting for her to introduce herself. When she didn’t speak, you took it upon yourself to ask, “And sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Cat,” she responded flatly. Her tone was a little icy, but you weren’t sure if you were just feeling insecure or she was actually trying to snub you.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” a nervous breathy laugh fell from your lips and you tightened your grip on your backpack strings, “It sucks moving senior year so I’m glad to make some new friends.”

“Why did you move senior year?” Cat spoke up finally, “You’re not like a psycho bitch that got kicked out of her last school?”

“Cat!”

“C’mon, Cat!” Dina and Ellie chimed in at the same time in your defense. You were admittedly thrown off by the comment but, yet again, you made an excuse for her. Maybe she was just curious. Or maybe she wanted to protect herself and her friends.

“What? I want to know,” she defended herself.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you laughed, giving her a smile. Be nice, your head rang once again. “It’s a valid question. But, no, uh, my dad died and we couldn’t afford to live where we were living anymore.”

Her smug smile fell, and instead, it was laced with empathy or more importantly pity. You hated it. Your newfound ability to ruin the moment. A moment that was supposed to be sweet. A fresh start. Already, you had clouded the new with your past.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to force you to say that or anything,” Cat apologized and it sounded genuine. It felt genuine.

“It’s totally okay. I’m fine, I’m mostly over it anyways,” That was a bold lie. You were nowhere close to over it but you couldn’t help but want them to like you. To think you were totally normal and carrying no baggage.

“No, it’s not okay,” Ellie spoke up again, shooting a glance to Cat, that made her scoff and roll her eyes.

“I said I was sorry,” Cat shrugged, “What more do you want from me?”

“Maybe don’t call people ‘psycho bitches’ when you first meet them,” Ellie stood up straighter, crossing her arms over her chest and Cat glanced at you again, colder this time.

“You’re unbelievable, Ellie,” She was looking at Ellie again, shooting daggers at her. You were unsure what was going on so you glanced at Dina and Jesse for help. All Dina did was slightly shake her head, a subtle way of telling you to not get involved.

“I’m unbelievable?”

“Yes! You’re unbelievable! Scolding me in front of people like I’m your fucking child or something,” Cat was getting irritated and it showed itself in her face. She had one of those faces that couldn’t hide what she was feeling.

“Then don’t act like a child,” Ellie said simply, causing Cat to let out a huff and turn around, push past Jesse, and leave the group. Ellie closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the locker, letting out a heavy sigh, “I should go after her. Can you guys help her to her first class?”

Dina nodded quickly before shooing Ellie off with her hand, “Go, go! It’s fine.” Ellie took one look at you and offered a smile that said ‘I’m sorry’. What she actually said was: “Meet me by my car at the end of the day. I’ll take you home.”

With that Ellie disappeared into the sea of people until she was no longer in sight.

“What was that?” you asked Dina and Jesse.

“Trust me,” Dina looked at you, “You don’t want to know.”

Your first class was English with Mrs. Porter. She made you stand at the front of the classroom and introduce yourself. Jesse was in this class with you and when you were done giving a brief introduction to yourself he loudly clapped and cheered. The gesture made you smile and eased some of the tension you were feeling.

A few people followed him, by cheering and offering you a high five as you moved back to your seat. Everyone seemed to be enamored by him. During class, people would send him notes on little Post-it notes, he would open them, laughing as he read them and wrote some messages back to them. It was subtle, but you could tell he opened up a room.

At lunch you walked into the large cafeteria, looking around for a place to sit. You were sure you looked like a lost dog as you wandered around because a girl with long brunette hair walked up to you with a smile on her face. She was pretty and dressed in a button-up and plaid skirt. It felt too formal for school.

“Hey, you’re new, right?” She asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’m Ingrid,” She looked you up and down, “do you need a place to sit?”

“Y/n!” your name was being called from a familiar voice, causing you to snap your head in that direction to see Ellie standing up and waving her hand in the air, “Come sit with us!”

“Oh, I’m just going to sit with,” You pointed to the table where Ellie was still standing and staring intently at you, “my friends.”

Ingrid’s smile fell as she shot a glance toward the table. You were obviously missing something. You turned to move towards the table before the girl gripped your arm firmly.

“Wait, I didn’t catch your name,” That smile was back.

“Y/n,” you told her.

“Y/n,” she repeated, “Pretty name.”

“Thanks,” you scratched the back of your neck, “Well, I’ll see you around.” You quickly rushed to the table, confused about the interaction once again. This place was fucking weird.

You sat down next to Ellie who was laughing at something Cat said. Cat’s eyes sparkled when she looked at Ellie. Brown and glossy as she laughed with Ellie, shaking her head. Her cheeks were slightly pink and she reached over to grab an apple slice out of Ellie’s lunchbox. When Ellie looked back at Cat her eyes didn’t sparkle in the same way that Cat’s did. They were verging on dull, but the corner of Ellie’s eyes still had wrinkles as she smiled.

“Hey!” She grabbed the apple from Cat’s hand, “Get your own apples.”

“Yours just taste better,” she giggled, smiling at you as you sat down, “Hey, how was your first day?”

She was being much nicer and her energy was much calmer. It was obvious she and Ellie had made up in the time from this morning to now, but you also had to wonder if Ellie told her to be nicer to you.

“It’s going well,” You shrugged, pulling out the brown bag your mom had packed for you, “I’m still getting used to everything.”

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Ellie commented, taking another bite of her apple, “Hey, what did Ingrid want?”

“Oh,” You looked over to Ingrid’s table where she was chatting and eating with a group of people, “She just asked me if I wanted to sit with her.”

Dina, who was sitting across from you, practically choked on her food as she laughed. Cat was also laughing to herself as she raised her eyebrows, and looked down at her food. Jesse had a small smile on his face as he took another chip from his bag and took a loud bite. The only person who wasn’t laughing was Ellie, who gave a brief glance at Ingrid’s table before looking back at you.

“Am I missing something?”

“No, it’s just,” Ellie started, taking a deep breath and wondering how much she wanted to explain, “be careful with her. She’s…”

“Friendly,” Dina finished Ellie’s sentence, a smirk on her face. Obviously, friendly didn’t mean friendly but you didn’t know what that meant.

“Do you like girls?” Cat asked bluntly.

“Cat,” Ellie warned again, making Cat drop what she was eating and roll her eyes.

“We need to know if we want to warn her,” She stated simply.

“Like romantically?” You asked, making everyone giggle again. You felt like you were missing a joke.

“Yeah, romantically,” Cat answered.

“Oh, yeah,” You looked around to see everyone’s reactions. You ignored the way Ellie’s cheeks tinged pink, “is that a… problem?”

“No,” Cat said flatly, her tone was cold again, “we all like girls.”

“Oh,” you said, taking out your sandwich from the ziplock bag and taking a bite.

“Let’s just say that Ingrid has been friendly with all of us,” Dina said, throwing a piece of popcorn at Jesse, “including Jesse.”

“At this point, initiation into this group should require hooking up with Ingrid,” Cat laughed.

“No,” Ellie said almost too fast, causing Cat to give her a confused look, “I can’t deal with another person getting convinced that Ingrid wants to be in a relationship with them. Plus, I can see into her room from mine. What if I look over and see Ingrid’s tits.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Cat said bitterly. There was that tension again.

“Well, I don’t really think I want to be involved with anyone anyways,” you mentioned, taking another bite.

“Why not?” Ellie questioned, eyes boring a hole into the side of your face.

“It’s just too complicated,” You shrugged, taking a sip of your water, “I’m new and it’s hard enough making friends, I don’t need anything messing that up.”

Ellie swallowed hard, and took another bite of her apple, just nodding at what you said like she understood.

“Well, now you have friends,” Dina spoke up, dissipating some of the tension. You took another bite, smiling with the food tucked into your cheeks.

As the day ended you went back to your locker to collect your stuff, expecting Ellie to be at hers, but she wasn’t there. You paid no mind to it as you opened your locker. However, inside sat a note, a yellow Post-It note that looked like it had been crumpled up a few times. On it, it read: “Couldn’t stop looking at you all day. Hope this isn’t weird, you’re just so beautiful. I hope I can get the courage to say it to your face. - your secret admirer”

Normally, this would have made you feel good about yourself. A random stranger thinks you are beautiful? Yea, that would boost anyone’s ego. Except this stranger knew your locker number and had admitted to watching you all day. A weird pit formed in the bottom of your stomach as you stuffed the note in your bag, knowing you would ruminate on it sometime later. Quickly, you packed up your stuff and made your way to the parking lot.

There, Ellie was leaning against her car, phone in hand. She was so focused on what she was typing that she didn’t even notice you walking up to her.

“Hey, ready to go?” You spoke, causing her to look up and smile at you.

“Yeah,” She shrugged, before pausing a moment, green eyes scanning your face, “what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You let out a nervous laugh as you shook your head.

“What? I’m fine.”

“You look weird.”

“Thank you?”

“Not like that,” she stopped you, putting her hands up, ”You just look upset but I don’t know you that well so I could be wrong.”

“You are wrong,” you grumbled, heading to the passenger side and hopping in the car. Ellie just scoffed, rolled her eyes, and got in the driver's seat.

“Well fuck me for caring then,” she mumbled to herself, starting the engine.

“It’s not-” you stopped yourself, taking a deep breath, “It’s just been a long day, I’m sorry if I was rude. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

She paused for a moment as if you had said something wrong, then she looked at you, green eyes scanning your face once more. She looked shocked, surprised almost. It was all so confusing.

“It’s fine, I’m just being an asshole,” She laughed, turning back to the road and putting the car in reverse, “My day was long too.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s,” She turned down the music so she could speak, “Cat.”

“Are you guys a thing?” You crossed your hands in your lap and absentmindedly played with your fingers.

“It’s complicated,” she sighed, heading out onto the open road, “Kind of, but it’s not really official.”

“Why?”

“I can’t commit.”

“Oh,” you looked over at her and watched her nose scrunch slightly like she was uncomfortable with the conversation, “I could sense the tension today.”

“She’s just…” Ellie made a weird movement with her head, “like that.”

“Why can’t you commit?”

“We’ve had our issues in the past,” Ellie shrugged, “at the end of the day I just can’t trust her and I can’t date someone I don’t trust.”

“You guys just seem so close,” you mentioned eyes drifting to the road again, the trees, and all the storefronts you had yet to explore.

“We are, and she’s a good friend,” Ellie coughed, “a little protective, but good. But romantically, I don’t really trust her. She swears she only wants me but I don’t know if I believe that.”

“Damn,” You laughed. Ellie looked over at you and laughed too. The air in the car was much lighter now.

“Yeah, I just don’t know how much of it I can do this year,” Ellie’s smile fell, as she approached her house, “but you didn’t ask all of that. I’m sorry I overshared.”

“Shut up, you didn’t overshare,” you laughed, unbuckling as Ellie pulled into her driveway, “and I did ask.”

“Well, thanks for listening, anyways,” Ellie smiled as she looked at her door and then back at you, “do you want to come in and do homework together? Joel’s not gonna be home till late.”

“I’d love that.”

ai audios:

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

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sincerelyverena · 3 months

Text

⟡⁺ VAYA CON DIOS

. . . OLIVER QUICK X GN!READER ‘in a world so fake, i say your name praying. you are my angel and my saint.’ @ajs-222 @michael-loves-chickens @surazim @soocore

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒oliver and you form an unlikely bond over his hatred for the cattons and your thirst for revenge. but when you dance with the devil, you're bound to fall. for satan himself or something far more sinister...

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒implied sex ﹐major character death ﹐strangling (non-sexual) (sorry yall) ﹐ drowning

inspired by the pure energy of hot, smothering justice and betrayal kali uchis vaya con dios radiates. enjoy, my lovelies! also felix is so babygirl, y'all just don't like him in this.. ;]

Oliver Quick was your saving grace.

You were more willing to admit he was your soulmate. Oliver Quick. Meek, unsocial, glasses-wearing Oliver Quick. He took you by the hand — and the heart — guiding you into Oxford's inner circle. A place for you to unravel your sabotage and a root for Oliver to plant his destruction in. A place for your ascendancy to seep through the cracks and weave between the breaks.

More specifically, Felix Catton. The college's golden boy, the beloved playboy of Oxford, and why you were so dedicated to fitting in in the first place.

Felix Catton and the entire Catton name were the root of all your problems. They took every opportunity you could've been offered in their palms, tearing it to shreds, and pummelling it into dust. Without even realising it, they had sabotaged everything you could've known.

The limelight of one of the downtown bars you all had travelled to flickers upon Felix, the neon glow outlined every discreet detail he bore proudly on his face. The captured appeal in every crook and dent, to the extent that any flaw he may have possessed is gone and buried before anyone could've noticed.

Felix Catton had the school population wrapped around the slimness of his fingers. Hell, even the once hardened aquamarine of Oliver's eyes softened ever so slightly with every passing grin of Felix's mouth. Every clasp of his back. Every manipulative lie that he’d utter with a smirk pasted on his face. Every sickly-sweet word that sweetly left his lips.

But not you. Even after four rounds of whiskey martinis, you felt like the only sober person in the room. You knew Felix and his family for what he was.

Selfish, all-wanting, all-ruining rascals.

Your own family once had close-knit ties with the Cattons. Years before your mother was even impregnated. Your grandmother had whispered tales of summers at Saltburn as if it was a fairytale. Endless courtyards, wide, luxurious estate grounds. Wild parties. Even wilder sex. At a young age, you had grown a thirst for experiencing anything that remotely came close to the experiences bored into you time and time again. You needed to quench your cravings, but nothing came near.

Things may have been different if the Cattons sunk your parent's business. For good.

Even the most naive garnered a sense and even an adoration for gossip and rumours as soon as they'd step onto Saltburn grounds, reputation was adorned upon a gold-plated pedestal. The root of striking words and poison-tainted oaths is Lady Elspeth. A wheat-blonde-haired bitch that brought your family so much misery.

A couple of words that escaped the snake's mouth destroyed generations of work. A whole family business deteriorated into the dust, and she didn’t even bat an eye.

This series of unfortunate events resulted in your mother passing you onto your grandparents, fabulously wealthy (but not as wealthy) and luxurious in their own right.

They raised you under their family name. Esmeray.

This granted you easy access into the prestigious inner circles of Oxford, invited by Felix Catton himself. He had noticed you a few scarce times prior, typically on Oliver’s arm, Ollie, who took it upon himself to sneak you into various VIP parties for the cause. Any remotely attractive person is enough to catch Felix's eye, and lucky for you, you were drop-dead stunning.

That's why you weren't the least surprised when he extended an invitation to stay the summer at Saltburn. The next step is avenging the Marzena family name. For good this time.

Saltburn couldn’t have ever compared to the fairytales whispered in your ear during your childhood days. Those tales did it no justice compared to how stunning and profound the estate truly is.

The molten sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon, and flecks of pure gold ascended throughout the gradually darkening sky. Pure summer drifted through the air, sending a warmth of contentment to settle in the pit of your belly. But your job here wasn't done. It was far from done.

The warmth in your belly reverberated through your shoulder as a firm hand clasped upon the brink of your silhouette.

"We're going to be late for dinner, sweetheart." Oliver's slow words reached your ears, his thumb gently tracing circles into the shining glimpse of skin that wasn't enwreathed by the inky, silk fabric you wore for the Catton’s strict dress codes.

Even though Oliver's hands were glacially cold — practically comparable to ice — the molten glow of his touch rolled throughout your frame pleasingly. This causes your lips to unfurl into a not-so-concealed smile. His words could engrave themselves into your mind, and he knew it as fact. "Come along now."

You tore your eyes away from the purely otherworldly scenery available at your will. In the minute or so that Oliver managed to garner from you, the radiant golden brinks of daytime were gradually drowned out by the raven shadows of nightfall.

"I think I’m in shock." The words escaped your lips with a half-suppressed laugh that reverberated lightly from your chest. Your mind raced to piece together the proper syllables necessary to describe the unfiltered beauty of Saltburn. “This is all so…”

"...unreal?"

Oliver finished your sentence for you in a matter of seconds, as if he plucked it out of your fluttered head. His hand shifted, arm rolled over the base of both of your bare, garmentless shoulders. Draped. Practically protectively he wordlessly guided you towards the door of your temporary suite. Temporary. For now, at least.

"Mmm… something like that." You quipped in turn, deciding with promptness to sink into the mere gentleness of his touch. The work of his hands alone arrowed straight to the pump of your heart and occasionally the heat of your core. These newly established sentiments that you’ve garnered for Oliver Quick had brought you a whirlwind of devotion to successfully come to fruition.

It wasn't an unacknowledged fact between the two of you that a spark had conquered itself, gradually. Every touch. Each glance. Every word that two of you had come to share. Oliver's intensity, his willingness to take you into his hands and never release you. And your revering homage, your tendency to treat him as if he were a god.

The Catton's were the most oblivious. Oblivious to their guest’s steadily swelling obsession. For each other and the downfall of their own, the destruction that played as a constant in their heads.

In order to play the part, you and Oliver separated from each other in front of the rest of the household to confide in both your constant alliance and devotion. You found sociability and acceptance in Farleigh and Venetia. Stingy, ego-brimming relatives to the Catton name. Oliver confided in Felix and even Elspeth, that as much as you disliked that fact. Alas, you weren't a stranger to the occasional lingering glance. The crinkle of Oliver's midwinter blue eyes, the tug of his sensually plump lips into a gradual, subtle smirk that occupied a lump in your throat. You drove him crazy the same. Or so you thought.

In the quietest hours of Saltburn, you found yourself curled up against Oliver’s silhouette. His godly arms inched around the frame of your torso, pulling you towards his strapping — and occasionally bare — chest. You often found yourself with your head buried in the crook of his neck. Inhaling the fragrances of honeydew and tangerine, the scent that virtually dripped off of Oliver’s altar of a body. A newfound pinkness tainted your cheeks.

"We live in a cruel world, don't we, darling?" Oliver proceeded to fill the silence one sleepless night with his deliberate drawls. His wide palms combed through your scalp absentmindedly. You could feel his warm breaths misting your ear every other second.

"We're living proof of that, Oliver." You gently reminded him.

"They sit on their golden thrones," Oliver raved onwards, irritation hung on every word. You didn't have to advert your eyes upward to know that his chiselled jaw was clenched, the muscles in his neck flexed accordingly. "While I had to grow up with an ignorant weasel for a father and a pill-popper for a mother."

You propped yourself up on your elbow, the pillow under your head sunk under the weight as you essentially crawled towards him. Captured his lips with your own, the taste of spearmint toothpaste meddled within your tongue as he proceeded to tangle into you. The kiss alone was fiery, frantic as Oliver poured his past and present into the serene bubble the two of you had formed, together.

"That'll all be behind us soon." You reassured him with each brush of your lips.

"Very soon, my love. They'll be the ones on their knees begging for our mercy."

Those meaning-filled kisses transitioned shortly into something more, the noises of willing gasps and the frantic rustle of garments echoed throughout the suite. In the head-whirling cloudiness of lust, you weren’t to notice the boy who stands with his ear pressed against the other side of the door. Lips thinned. Eyebrows drawn together.

Felix had heard everything he needed to know.

The racketing denouncing of the door caused your head to snap toward the cause. You’ve spent your morning in solitude, with a cup of steaming tea and a handful of your thoughts. Yet the peace you’ve marinated in over the past few hours dissipated as you witnessed Oliver stand there with promptness, hand still pressed deeply against the door handle. The silence drew throughout your suite, disturbed the slow, heavy grunts that reverberated from him.

Something was wrong,

Oliver sucked in a sharp breath.

"We're leaving after the house party tonight." He announced at last.

Your teacup almost slipped from your palms. Your breath quickened, fumbling to set the object aside before you made a start towards Oliver. And the man — who seemed more like a boy at the moment — inclined his toned arms around the sleight of your waist, clutching for dear life. He held you close. Chest to chest. Heart to heart. You felt each puff of breath escape and fill him, emptying him and deeming him whole. Your arms secured around his shoulders, triceps tucked behind his neck.

"24 hours is more than enough." You deemed.

"You think?"

"I believe."

As you spoke, you felt the muscles that once rippled rigidly against your hands loosen the slightest. Your digits traced absentminded patterns into the hem of his shirt.

“You’re tense.” You pointed out, falling back momentarily in the process. Your eyebrows drew together as you took in the strained look blatantly playing on his face. With the amount of stress filling his ocean-remanent eyes, he had looked to have aged a decade.

Oliver's hands braced towards your jaw, long digits framing your face as he leant in. He peppered a feather-weight kiss to the top of your head. You couldn't have missed his shaky inhales grazing the cuff of your ear as he inched forward.

“I have a plan.”

That's how you and Oliver found yourselves occupying the brink of your unmade bed, the cup of half-drunken tea still allocated in your hands and a look of fierce determination glowering in his unwavering gaze.

Wordlessly, Oliver lapsed a singular, broad hand in the vicinity of his dark dress pants, fingers gliding beneath the denim material. Your breath is lodged in the centre of your throat at the very sight. Your thoughts began to drift, internally perplexing if his grand plan was to fuck his griefs out on you. That was until he retrieved a ziplock bag from his briefs, cocaine weighing the plastic down.

"Oliver Quick. You are a fucking genius." You whistled at the glimpse of the thin, pale powder. Oliver's intentions were as clear as day and the motions for revenge were just as evident.

The pressure and strain that pulsated behind Oliver’s eyes softened with every syllable that escaped your lips. His gaze never left yours, deliciously prominent. A somewhat startled squeal echoed throughout the bedroom suite as Oliver hauled you up using the agency of your hips. Your legs sprawl on both flanks of his thighs as he reposed you across the sleight of his lap.

"C'mere 'n say it to my face then, princess."

The house party that arose thereafter that evening was open to all extravagant guests who were deemed worthy enough to be invited personally by the Cattons. You were bursting at the seams with scorching adrenaline at the thought of all of these unsuspecting capitalists, oblivious of what was about to transpire.

You and Oliver remained on contrasting sides of the estate, a fact that brought a sense of yearning. And you yearned for nothing more than to blow the night with the man you deemed to be your beloved. Alas, the two of you weren't established. And you both had a murder to fulfil.

One day.

"Shh..."

Oliver's voice was hushed, his whispers interlinked with a domineering raspiness as the two of you venture away from the club scene of heroin, alcohol and the prominent hue of arousal and cigarette smoke. You spied Felix, his celestial silhouette still visible from a fair distance away. He's accompanied by one of the well-heeled invitees, one of his idolizers who had spent the majority of the night garnering his undivided attention.

You crushed your drug stick underneath the heel of your footwear as you proceeded to wander behind the individuals ahead. They advanced towards the vast bridge that adorned one of the numerous rivers the estate occupied. Which acted as a hook-up spot for most, obvious by the number of condoms and cigarettes scattered upon the planks.

You gave a wordless prayer for the estate maids for their grounds inspection at dawn. But you knew God couldn't help neither you nor Oliver now for what you were about to accomplish.

It was childishly easy. Snag one of the champagne bottles from the downstairs kitchens and instil half of the ziplock bag's contents into the beige substance. Shook it until it was dissolved. Oliver seized it by his side.

By the time the couple approached the bridge, Felix already propped his midnight flings up on the fencing, palms grappling behind their thighs to keep them fixed in place. Their calves squeezed around the roundness of his hips, digits fumbled urgently to undo the leather clasps of his belt.

Within a minute or two, a strangled moan rang throughout the otherwise hushed air as Felix buried his head into the crook of their neck.

Anticipation pounded through you with each step you made. The heart of the Cattons. Soon to be executed under the guise of revenge. And what a bloody revenge it would be. Oliver's vacant hand intertwined with your own for a beat of a second, a rapid squeeze capable of sending any possible doubt into destruction. Replaced by a flutter of warmth that uncoiled in your chest.

Felix had taken notice of you both hastily, balls deep in his oblivious affair – who was spluttering and whimpering around his shoulder. The chorus of smacking flesh subsided, the strike of Felix’s hips diminishing as the man stared at his former friends with a bewildered expression.

"The hell are you doing here?" Felix demanded, grunting a half-hearted apology to his now flustered entanglement as his palms clung to their waist, pulling out with a fluent jerk of his hips. He was in every respect flaccid now, no doubt.

Oliver wasn’t phased in the slightest. "We need to talk, Felix."

“What the hell?”

The individual who once occupied the bridge had already recomposed themselves, looking daggers up at the colossal man that towered over them. Felix scarcely spared them a glance. They seethe at his lack of response, before steamrolling past you to rejoin the commotion back at the estate.

Rendering them alone.

"There's nothing to talk about," Felix contended. He broke his gaze as he heeled momentarily to adjust himself. Sloppily. There’s a shakiness in his hands.

In your eyes, he's the remnant of a fallen angel. Shadowed eyebags dominated the space beneath Felix’s whisky-glittering eyes, his wolfish-like face wiltering, hollow cheeks thinned out excessively to be presumed normal. You acknowledged it was a fact that everyone else's value of him wouldn't budge. Not even a dent. Not even in the grave.

Oliver thrust the sabotaged bottle against Felix's Herculean chest with a forceful arm, prompting him to grab hold. Your pulse rang in between your ears. You wished you could’ve engraved this moment in time into your mind.

"You're right." You reasoned. Your words seemed foreign to your ears as if it were someone else that was speaking. You could only pray that the ecstatic nervousness that jolted throughout you wasn't manifesting outwardly.

Oliver’s fingers laced within your own. The sweat that prickled along the curve of his palm signalled to you wordlessly that he was experiencing the same, intense elation that grappled at your abdomen and twisted. "We'll see you back at Oxford, yeah?"

Felix scrutinizes the somewhat empty champagne bottle in his palms (courtesy of you pouring it out an hour prior). His words falter and for a moment you begin to ponder if his perception of you two was corrupted for good. Nevertheless, Felix fixated immensely towards your linked hands.

"Yeah. I'll see you back at Oxford."

As you and Oliver diverged from Felix, you could hear the droughty gulps of the spiked substance. It was apparent to you that you'd never see Felix again after this moment. The reassurance of that fact, set in stone, brought about a flutter of relief to overtake the apprehension you once esteemed.

A slow, deliberate smile crept onto your lips.

As predicted, the entire Catton household fell apart after Felix was found. He collapsed on the wooden tiling of the bridge, sprawled out with a mouthful of his puke pooled around his ever-paling silhouette.

It was obvious he suspected. He trusted them anyway and attempted to save himself in the process.

Even though you both were invited to the funeral a couple of days after the fact, the rock-tossing (an off-putting tradition in the Catton family) was regarded as family only.

You sat, only an hour later, bare feet dangling off of the edge of the bridge as Oliver attempted to retrieve each rock from the drafts of the flowing river current.

"Don't fall in and drown, Ollie!" You exclaimed, playfulness irking your tone as you grinned down at him. The sight of Oliver, ass-up, in an attempt to grasp the smooth, memorial rock was a sight to witness indeed.

Oliver turned his head and snapped out of his focused determination to flash you a similar smirk. "I'd have to be bound and gagged for that to happen, sweetheart."

His words caused a particular imagery to pollute your thoughts.

Alas, your plans towards the Catton family and their demise were practically writing themselves. Venetia was becoming heavily depressed by the absence of Felix and Farleigh (whom Oliver framed and resulted in him having to exit Saltburn for good).

With a few metal blades smuggled into a porcelain bath and a few encouraging words from Ollie, the woman was found bathing in her crimson remains. Funeral. Rock-tossing. Rock-retrieving.

"Be careful the rock doesn't weigh you down, Ollie!"

You continued to tease him as he soon approached you. Oliver's typically straight, combed-over locks of caramel were drenched. The waterdrops highlighted the olive of his skin, and you wished desperately to kiss all the droplets away.

Oliver took hold of your waist, pulling you in. A droplet of water splashed against the end of your nose, causing a stray laugh to rise out of you.

"If I'm goin' down, you're goin' down with me."

Oliver lowered his head, his water-dripping, plump lips placed a long kiss on the end of your nose. The sudden shake of his wet strands caused water to spray all across your face.

You groaned in protest. You kissed him back anyway.

Laughing felt foreign to you. Especially when you were smuggling a dissolvable pill or two in the alcohol-infested substance of both Sir James and Lady Elspeth's glasses. It lies atop the tables decorating either side of the king-sized bed. They were preoccupied with the purposeful ruckus Oliver was causing downstairs and lurched up from their sleeping quarters to investigate.

Like all the victims before them, it was elementary. James and Elspeth evolved into a habit of indulging in a few (or five) drinks before bed. The tendency to stress drink evergrowing with the funerals and departures that lined up before them. Before their own.

Oliver slid the build of his toned arms around you, sensing his biceps straining straight into your waist. You watched as the drugged solution dissolved into nothingness while he watched you. A singular reached upwards towards your mouth which was pulled back into a grin. He bore a cool palm over your lips.

"If you keep laughin' like that, you're gonna give us away." His voice rumbled into the curve of your ear. The assertive husk of Oliver’s tone was enough to cause you to fall silent, only the ghost of a smile flickering upon your lips.

Elspeth dreaded the idea of the lovers ever considering their departure from Saltburn. James desired the absence even more. You both decided to make it easier for them.

A choked cry echoed out, barely five minutes later.

Oliver towered over the end of the bed. He never wanted it to transpire this way, but Elspeth refused to bloody die off. Your lover's fists decorated the weak column of her throat like a collar, harsh palms proceeding to crush down against skin and bone without a sleight of hesitance.

"Sweetheart, look away." He evoked.

You couldn't.

Elspeth gawked up at Oliver with wrinkled eyes. Once brimming with adoration. Now dull with despair, her calloused hands went as far as to claw against the relentlessness of his hands. Elspeth's air supply grows limited, a strangled outburst that escapes her at this realisation.

It didn't take long for her to stop fighting, and collapse against the paled corpse of her husband. You peppered lightweight kisses along the gaping nail marks dressing the skin atop Oliver’s hands. Oliver's blood was left smeared across the frame of your lips. Like he was your sacrifice. Like you were a god.

He looked at you like such.

Disposing of the bodies was even simpler. As you laboured to wipe the bedsheets clean of any possible evidence, Oliver tossed the carcasses into the wide, sprawling woods a mile or two away from the estate. The wild animals are bound to eat away at the rot infecting the pale, cold meat.

From scum, you came. Now scum you become.

The Catton Family Players music box is anchored to a table, presented in the middle of the foyer. Four smooth rocks perched on top. Even though there wasn't a funeral explicitly necessary in this case, it grew to be a game. You and Oliver took turns tossing the engraved rock into the rivers before plunging after them.

In no time at all, whatever garments you possessed were cast aside. You were shoulders-down submerged in the pummelling waters, each movement rippling the moana-blue waves.

Oliver bore his arms around you, encompassing your waist to keep you afloat so you would be able to soak in the scenery ahead of you. Submerged in the serenity of nature. With only the limelight of the sun sinking below the horizon to keep you two company.

You trusted him not to drop you. Of course, you trusted him.

Why wouldn't you trust him when he gave you everything you had ever wanted? His lips pressed warmly against the curve of your forehead. You were both skin to skin, but it didn't feel enough to you. He could’ve been inside you (in whatever way that struck the imagination). And it’d never be enough.

"What's happenin' in your pretty little mind, sugar?" Oliver hummed, his articulation was in the form of a mere whisper. Yet, the rumble of his words solicited you with so much warmth you had to take a second to respond.

"You." His eyebrows raised at the simplicity of your words. "How lucky we are."

The familiar warmth of that chuckle you love so much leaves his chest in a glowing reverberation. "We are a lucky pair, aren't we, darlin'?"

You would've never guessed for revenge and lust to be written on the same page. But through vengeance, and the motions of murder, you had gained your other half.

You had never felt happier. Never felt more whole.

And you loved him. You loved him so immensely. Nobody could have ever doubted that fact in the first place.

That's why you were the most bewildered when you stirred from rest, aroused into waking. You had foreseen residing in Oliver's arms, in the master suite the two of you now occupied. You were in Oliver's arms, yes. But not in the way you hoped for.

That's exactly how you got to this point in time.

You strain and challenge the thick ropes constricting the frame of your ankles and wrists, alerting Oliver to your consciousness. You incline your head over the brink of your bare shoulder, catching a glimpse of nothing but fields surrounding the two of you.

A river draws closer and closer in the distance.

You attempt to will yourself to speak, but your lips are harshly taped shut. Oliver doesn't need to receive your words of interrogation anyway, as he proceeds to speak.

"You were always a feisty one." He comments loosely, voice casual as if you weren't bound and gagged in between his defined biceps. His bare feet hit against the ground beneath him, muffled by the field's natural grass dressing,

"What a shame it had to be this way."

As the river grows nearer and nearer in your line of view, you spy something bland and metal perched on the rocks beside the streaming current. It's rougher today. A contrast in comparison to the passive waves you and Oliver bathed in the few days prior.

Your eyes rounden in realisation.

Fully aware of the restraints diminishing your speech, you attempt to grill the man above you on why the hell he possesses a weight. No properly audible sound manages to slip out.

A dry snigger escapes Oliver. "It would've been too obvious, my dear. I mean, we're the last ones standing." He falters in step, the waves of the river's current join the throbbing of your heart, roaring between your ears. Oliver inclines downwards, fingertips as gentle and purposeful as ever as they tease the edge of the tape. "What a tragedy it'd be for my lover to be taken away from me as well."

Tears prickle at the edge of your eyes.

The tape rips away from your lips, strangling a cry from deep within your throat at the throbbing pain that overbears you. Oliver tosses the tape aside without a second thought, the pad of his thumb rubbing easing circles into the somewhat swollen attributes of your mouth. "Shh..."

"Oliver, this isn't fucking funny."

"I know it isn't, sweetheart."

The man you thought you loved lowers his head and meets a feathery kiss against your lips. Once. Twice. Thrice. He leans upwards, and an indescribable emotion flutters in the whirling aquamarine of his eyes. "But it has to be done."

Oliver's broadened palm takes hold of your mouth harshly, sinking his slender digits into the flush of your cheeks. A sharp distinction to the flutter of his lips seconds prior. You howl your protests into his fingers, writhing in his overpowering arms as he works to lock the weight onto the rope decorating your ankle. Your howls turn into sobs that wrack your chest with each breath, the colour promptly draining from your face. Oliver stands right at the edge of the rocks lining the river, decorating the roaring waters below.

Molten tears ride down your cheeks. Your voice rasps. "Ollie?"

"Yes, princess?" He still garners the ability to serenade you with the sweet tinges of his words, as if you weren't on the way to your inevitable death.

"Venetia was right about you. You're fucking sick in the head."

There isn’t a trace of aggravation that crosses Oliver’s face. His unruly eyebrows raise for a moment, overcome by amusement as he scrutinizes you darkly.

"Now, now. Let's not forget who was by my side the entire time."

He's right. You know he's right. You glare up at him with a twisted combination of loathing and horror at the enlightenment. You took down every one of the Cattons by his side. He took you under his wing and assisted you in getting your way against the people you've despised for the majority of your life. This was your way of repaying him.

"I'll see you in hell, bastard."

These are the very last words you manage to seethe before your bound silhouette is freed from Oliver's bone-chilling palms. Before your entire physique sinks into the freezing waters, swallowing your entire body whole as the weight anchoring your leg propels you further downwards.

Your last breaths escape you in a gust of bubbles, rising desperately to the top as you reach the bottom of the makeshift hell you were tossed into.

The last thing you see is a rock with your name on it.

—Pues mírame a los ojos, dime si ves el vacío que deja amor perdido— "LOOK ME IN THE EYES, TELL ME IF YOU SEE THE VOID THAT LOST LOVE LEFT BEHIND"

WORD COUNT: 4K MASTERLIST

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mambalae-s · 1 year

Text

fallen glory — ushijima wakatoshi x reader

wc: 3.2k words

cw: god! wakatoshi x nymph! reader; unprotected sex; breeding kink; size kink; wakatoshi is a big boi; reader is described as a black woman; degradation; manhandling; ; creampie; not proof read; if i’m forgetting anything please let me know!

notes from author: please, if you’re under 18, do NOT interact with or read this post. i will block you.

there are legends among mortal towns, the tellings of stories passed on by flesh and bone. a god, mankind will utter through shrouds of smoke, beneath fire-lit nights of centuries old, where the stars would even hold their breath to hear the words of divine destruction. a god so mighty and fearsome that wields power in his breath alone, that the earth would tear herself apart and offer her burning heart, that she would so desperately beseech her master that this mere sacrifice would be enough to please him. mankind would sing those sorrow-filled ballads of flaming rivers that sputtered brilliant embers, so brilliant in their dying glory that venus herself would weep and beg for mercy.

and this god, oh, this righteous and almighty god, his heart would mirror the depths of darkness. how cruel, this god, that he would beckon the tempests and the floods to destroy and ruin the earth, that he would paint wars and famine across endless seas and planes until there would be nothing left of man. when he bestows his wrath on bellowing thunders and rips the heavens asunder with magnificent lightning, he holds no mercy for the weak and unfaithful. his eyes behold, and his left hand cast their judgement, and the earth can do nothing but wait with bated breath as the universe stands still around her, powerless, and without charge of the pestilence that would next consume her and wipe her filthy soul clean once more.

oh, but who could imagine the divine’s demise at the hands of a damsel?

let these words not travel far, lest they spread across continents and reveal him for what he is. let the world not know of his mortality, of a heart that quivers before summer-touched evenings and sings wretched hymns of manly lust and desire. of his visits to the holy garden, they must not learn, even less should they know of the soul that resides there — the very same that would tame the tempest, and incite a hunger so ravenous and feral only to quench it all the same.

he’s here; you know without even looking, and your intuition tells you that he knows that you know. you don’t need to look behind you to know that wakatoshi’s watching you, eyes of gold and olive that stalk you like a hunter. he takes in every part of your image as a devotee does with visions. the droplets of water that glisten across dark brown skin, the sheer white fabric that clings to your full mounds and ass, barely doing anything to conceal your perked nipples, or the dip between your plush thighs. by the heavens, you truly are a vision of sin and desire — one that held the key to destruction between two-toned lips and written like scriptures among dark coils of hair akin to sacred vines.

“well?” you sigh, sinking further into the pond. the cool water kisses your skin with a tenderness that washes away the day’s searing heat. goosebumps rise across your body and you lull your head to the side, and that’s when you see him, your god come here to visit the garden of eden. “will you just stand there or are you gonna join me?”

how brazen, you must’ve sounded, irreverent as if you knew not the god who’d walked into your sanctuary. yet you knew all too well who he was, and you knew what he’d come for. you knew that, just with the sight of your body drenched in water, you could unravel this benevolent god and reduce him to nothing but a man lost in desire. since the first day he found you here on a lonely spring’s afternoon so many years ago, you’d somehow wrapped his tongue between your teeth and poisoned him with pleasure untold so that he would return time and time again. he reminds you of a lunatic, seeking the taste of your nectar like a man who knows nothing else, and you’d become his drug and his achilles heel, the very thing that could unwind this god and render him to nothingness.

the waters part to make way, welcoming wakatoshi into the pool as he comes close to you. his body presses against yours and he leaves no room between, so greedy in the way his fingers dip into your waist and burying his face into the crook of your neck to take in your scent. you reach up one hand to wrap into his long, jade green locks, and you pull him closer to you, eager to feel his lips leaving soft kisses across your skin.

“i can’t stop thinking about you…” he grumbles into your jawline, hungry and impatient. his fingers wrap into the thin fabric of your gown, nails digging into your flesh as he pulls you closer, pressing his hard cock into your ass as if he wants it to disappear between it. “fuck, what are you doing to me?”

you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips, though you know there’d be no sense trying to. coyly, you reach for one of his hands and bring it down to your pussy, pressing his palm flat against it and pushing yourself further against his length. “nothing, darling.” the words that leave you are teasing, almost to test him — accentuated by your sugary laugh when his fingers begin to peel your dress against your skin without you needing to tell him. “it’s you who keeps coming back here on your own accord.”

his fingers dip between your thighs and your knees buckle a bit when they brush against your pussy. you’re wet, wakatoshi discovers your slick already pooling into his hands despite him hardly even touching you. tauntingly, he caresses you, pools your slick along his fingers as he so barely slides them between your swollen cunt to hear the hiss that slips out of your mouth.

“look at you,” he chuckles, condescending. “so needy already, hm? do you want a god’s cock to defile you that badly?”

he’s baiting you, drawing on your words like a puppeteer, you know it. only touching you ever so slightly, giving you the smallest taste of what he knows you want, yet he wants you to beg for it. he wants you to throw yourself unto desperate abandon and give yourself up to him. and it’s working too damn well. greedily, you try to sink yourself down on his fingers, but he quickly stops you with a hand around your throat. frustrated, you whimper. “wakatoshi…” you keen. “for god’s sake, stop toying with me already!”

his teeth sink into your neck suddenly, the sensation of his lips sucking on your flesh causing your pussy to flutter. “nngh…” overcome with weakness, your head falls back against his chest, and your eyes are forced to behold the behemoth of a man behind you; the glistening droplets that slide down olive skin and the furrowed lines atop his expression. his lips part on breaths heavy and weighted as he squeezes his fingers tighter around your throat, and your own breath catches beneath his grip. you’re left wanting, needing the very air he robs you of, needing him inside your core, needing him and everything he’d give to you.

ah, you think bitterly, i’ll lose this war again today.

“you know what i want to hear from you, little one.” wakatoshi’s words ghost against the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver, heat coursing through each pulse despite the chill of the water. he takes his hand from your soiled thighs and brings his fingers to his mouth, and you watch with eyes glazed by lust as he sucks your juices from them and groans. “hurry…” he huffs. his cock twitches against your ass impatiently, his balls almost ready to burst and bury themselves inside your tight little cunt. “you know i don’t like waiting…”

those words so heavy and fogged over by hunger, you know he’s teetering on the very edge of snapping, letting you know that you’re not the only one who wants the other. he makes slow, intentional work of licking his fingers clean and he sees the way your inhibitions snap behind your eyes, revels in the whimper that leaves your lips as your hands fly to remove your dress all on your own. your breasts fall freely for him to see them glistening under filtered sunlight and of sight of your pursed nipples causes his length to twitch hungrily against your ass.

“please…!” inhibitions abandon you, your pride lost on the incessant pulsing between your legs. you need him to fill you, to ravish and demolish you — you’re aching now, impatient, craving him, “please, toshi, i need you inside me… now!”

you see the very moment wakatoshi reaches his limits and he snaps.

a yelp escapes you as he hoists you up, spinning you around to lock your legs around his hip. his lips crash into yours, mercilessly pushing his tongue into your wet cavern like a beast as he drinks you in. he feels your moans rumbling through his chest and he responds in kind, the space between you non-existent and your body flushed against him.

“that’s a good girl.” whimpering, you claw your fingers into his back as if holding on for dear life. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you want to curse him for toying with you, want to shut that filthy, irreverent mouth of his but your mind is too cloudy to give anything but sweet pleas of his name. drool pools from between your lips as he draws his tongue along your neck, suckling and biting every inch of skin. you’ll bruise blue and purple, you know it, but you can’t bring yourself to care. you want him to mark you, want him to possess your body and soul.

your fingers tangle into his tresses of green hair and you pull, causing him to hiss against your neck. “enough already, wakatoshi..!” despite your harsh words, you know they sound like nothing but muddled pleas to him. he’s so much bigger than you, it’s hard to forget he still has control over you — the way his large palms squeeze your ass, the way your body has to sit just above his hip, it’s hard to forget that fact.

“just fuck me already! you act like you don’t know the things you do to me, haah, like you don’t know how much you make me want you even— nngh, even when… you’re not here…”

ah, but how unfair of you, isn’t it? how can you accuse him of such things when really, you’re the one who does this to him? how could you not know that your visage haunts him day and night? that he dreams of taking you over and over, of pumping your hole full of his seed until your tummy would swell? that even then, he’d keep filling you up, keening to hear those sweet, filthy cries of his name over and over? you must know what you do to him; he growls against your skin, sinking his teeth into your collar and causing you to cry out and pull against his hair. “then tell me what you want, darling…”

frustration bubbles within you like an erotic poison as you glare down into emerald orbs. have you not been clear enough for him? what prayers would it take to satisfy this insatiable god? for him to finally give himself to you and abandon all else? you’re already powerless here in his hands, your dress reduced to a soaking bundle that wraps around your waist where his hands palm your bare skin. the tip of his cock only barely touching your core, and you can do nothing but wait until he sinks you down unto it. struggle as you might, your need couldn’t be fulfilled until he wills it, until he finally lets in and use you like you want to be used.

“i want you to take responsibility…” pettily, you huff, eyes narrowing further at the coy grin that sits on his mouth. even with his flushed cheeks and your spit coating his skin, he looks up at you, waiting for you to finish. “i want you to destroy me and fuck me senseless. i want you to force me to take every drop of seed and use me until your fat cock empties out everything inside me.”

wakatoshi hums, pleased, it seems, by your words, though he knows he wouldn’t have been able to hold off any longer even if he hadn’t wrung them out of you. oh, the things you do to him without even knowing that turn him into a wild beast. he all but eagerly lines up the head of his throbbing dick to your entrance, and the warmth of it is already so welcoming as he parts your pussy lips, teasingly rubbing your clit.

“take responsibility, hm?” he purrs against your skin as you whimper, soon forcing out the loveliest scream of his name as he brings you down in one swift motion. he watched your eyes roll into the back of your head, drinks in the way your lips fly open as his length spreads you apart. his own eyes narrow and he clenches his teeth — your tight walls squeeze around him so deliciously, so small and delicate as they clamp around the intrusion. “such a pretty, fragile little doll, aren’t you? fuck…!”

god, he hadn’t even fully sunken into you yet, and already he felt himself hitting the tip of your cervix, pressing deeper and deeper and causing your entire body to convulse as drool pours from your lips, fat tears pooling on your waterline. your orgasm wrecks your body in waves and you tremble, already fucked too weak to even support yourself. helplessly, you fall limp into wakatoshi’s arms, neck lulling back so that you’re forced to look up at the god above you, forced to watch his face contort in mortal pleasure as your hole continues to needily suck him in.

“aww…” he coos at your pathetic form. he brings one hand to cup your messy cheek while the other continues to support your weight, pushing a thumb into your open lips. almost mindlessly, you latch unto it and begin sucking. “already? kitten, i’ve hardly done anything to you yet.” even then, wakatoshi wants more from you. he wants to fuck you senseless, break you to nothingness until you couldn’t think of anything but him inside you. so he pushes, deep past your walls until he fully buries himself inside you, his tip so deliciously hitting your womb. you squeal and tighten your legs at the sensation of him bottoming out of you, dig your nails deep into his arms as if to ground yourself from slipping further.

“w-wait…! please, toshi—!” you cry, though your words are lost on him, drowned by his heavy breaths as he presses his lips against yours, pleas swallowed up while your body shakes. “i only just came, i’m— nngaah! ‘m too sensitive, slow down— fuck! ahh!”

despite your begging, wakatoshi doesn’t give you a moment to recover. he sets a relentless pace of pounding into you, pushing deeper and deeper, the sound of his balls clapping so filthily against your slick not yet enough to hide each honey-coated wail he forces out of you. “you said to… hnngn— take responsibility, didn’t you?” roughly, he wraps his hand around your throat and forces you to look up at him, all so he can take in that beautifully fucked expression you wear, teardrops lining your lashes and your mouth wantonly gasping for air. “that’s exactly what i’m doing, darling. isn’t this what you wanted?”

“yes..!” you can’t deny it. lying to him would be no use, it’s too late to try. your body’s already betrayed you for the pleasure he gives you, your battered hole pulsing around him with each thrust as he stretched you impossibly wide. “yes, wakatoshi..! fuck! i wanted you to fuck me n use me just like this!”

he chuckles, sinful and ungodly, as he releases his hold on your throat to place it around your waist and pulls you down, over and over, repeatedly until your body can do naught but fall to his mercy. “haah..! nngh….! fuck, fuck, fuuuck!”

“that’s it, kitten, just like that.” oh, heavens help him, he already feels himself beginning to waver, his hips staggering as he drives into you. he’s so close, his cock twitching viciously inside your beaten pussy, so close to exploding and filling you up. “take everything, you hear me? i’m gonna cum deep inside your filthy little cunt, and you better take all of it. gonna breed you again and again.”

“mhn! mhn! mhhn!” you’re far too gone to even understand the words he growls at you, far too gone to care for much else other than the sensation of him breaking you apart, or for the prayer you let escape your corrupted heart. “do it..! do it, waka…! let everything out and cum inside me, please, please, please!”

oh, how good did it feel to be at his mercy, to let him ruin you time and time again, at his beck and call. beneath his hold, you release all senseless moral and surrender to the wicked hunger of a being far greater than you. without warning, your body convulses beneath your pleasure as your second orgasm crashes over you. it rips through every vein in your body and releases itself from your core and you scream, your mind gone blank as you cream and squirt all over him. the very coil wound so tightly within your gut breaks like a tidal wave and pushes you off the edge, and after a few more harsh thrusts, you’re granted your reward.

wakatoshi grunts and gasps as his cock bursts his cum inside you, near panting as he pulls you flush against his hip and forces every drop into your delicate womb. his fingers dig deep into your doughy flesh, moans falling from him like a man needing air. he’d spent every last drop inside of you, his chest heaves on the aftershocks of pleasure, but gods be damned, he isn’t through with you yet. you, crumbled against his chest and fucked positively dumb, he hadn’t yet had his fill of you.

“h-hey, wakatoshi, what’re you—!” your startled shout goes unheard by the god as he forces you off his cock, only to bend you over rear up against the edge of the pool. shivers involuntary wreck your body, your whole clenching and your form already weakened by him. “please, i can’t take anymore, lemme rest a little— gaah!”

he silences you quickly by pushing his fingers into your stretched hole, pushing his cum back inside you as your walls object, already far too sensitive. “didn’t you hear me?” he grins, though you can’t see his expression from behind you. so, he pulls you up by your neck, grinning as he towers over your small frame. oh, how feeble and defenseless you stood before him, your legs couldn’t even support your frame, and it was all because of him.

“i said i’d make sure to fill up this tight little cunt. i’m not just done with you yet.”

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sgiandubh · 3 months

Note

What happened with Barbour ?

Dear Barbour Anon,

My favorite kind of Anon, even if I know the question has recently been asked again and not in this corner. Never mind, I think it's time to talk about it, too.

I bought my first Barbour (entry-level, so olive) Bedale wax jacket 25 years ago, from their (long gone, now) shop on Boulevard Raspail, in Paris. It was a mandatory clothing item to own if you wanted to properly mingle with the law school crowd (it still is) and it ended up being one of my most prized possessions, possibly a part of me. I still have it somewhere, back home. Two more followed, along with a fetishist array of shirts, scarves, beanies and even one of those sturdy crossbody bags you can fit half a house in. So you can imagine my absolute thrill when I found out, very very late, that S had had a rather substantial collaboration with them, from 2016 and until 2019.

I am very bad with timelines, as you probably know and possibly even cackle about, but still: S was appointed as the company's first ever Global Brand Ambassador on July 16, 2016. His mission statement was very precisely defined by the brand and for some reason we'll analyze a bit later, this is important:

(Source, heh: https://www.astonbourne.co.uk/is-barbour-a-luxury-brand-unraveling-the-mystique-of-classic-outerwear/).

A shirt and vest signature collection followed in 2017 and 2018, with the contract being renewed. Advertisement was absolutely gorgeous and designed to shape a very positive image, both for S and the brand. Last autumn's SS Gin promo retained some of that irresistible aesthetic DNA and I discussed it at length.

See for yourself, Anon. The fandom endlessly discussed the first long clip (with the chocolate labrador), but I have no idea if these two have been seen, let alone debated. If they did, let that be my nostalgic mistake.

Spring/Summer 2018:

youtube

Fall 2018:

youtube

And then disaster stroke, with S's trip to Ha-wa-wee 1.0, in the spring of 2019. A short reel, featuring a rather agglomerated boat trip, was posted on socials. Unfortunately for S, it also featured an allegedly horrifying scene involving the 'traditional' bludgeoning to death of a tuna fish. Emotions ensued and as it often happens here, they spun out of control. Many people, including some of the most vocal S haters, tagged Barbour in their diatribes, filled with environmentalist indignation. They suggested this guy (who did not participate to the savagery and I would be even unsure he realized what was going on) was, by no reasonable means, a proper 'embodiment of the brand's identity, values and aspirations' (remember that mission statement?).

Tone deaf as ever in the midst of a serious PR crisis, S put friendship above anything else, and publicly praised the boat's owner, calling him 'the heart and soul of the island', if I remember well. I still would like to think he has no idea what the hell exactly happened. And then, when somebody finally (August 2019) asked Barbour on Insta about their collaboration with S, they got this politely dry, but clear answer:

"We don't have any plans for a collaboration with SH in the near future" means, in my book and to my understanding, "we are never going to work with this guy again". Truly, some people in here who dare to give morality lessons to others, should be proud of themselves: they did it knowingly and in a very organized way, using multiple sock accounts, to give the impression of a collective retching reflex. To cut the story short, the dread of any ad campaign on this planet.

The effort was genuine. The result of that collaboration was very good. Take, for example, this somewhat heartbreaking customer review by an American guy who has no idea who SRH is and who bought one of those jackets from a Barbour factory warehouse, in 2021, with a hefty rebate (70% off). Clearly something Barbour wanted to get rid of at all costs - what a pity and really what a SHAME on all those hypocrites who will never admit to a public assassination by the book:

youtube

This time, I am absolutely not sorry for the length, Anon. This is something that still makes me boil. Unfairness and cheap nastiness simply disgust me.

(Thank you, sweetheart, for the screenshot, always. You know who you are 😘😘😘).

#anon #fandom #shitshow

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bouncybongfairy · 2 months

Note

Hellooo Could I request for Felix Catton please? Where’s maybe Oliver is so obsessed with Felix’s girlfriend, the reader to the point where he killed her because “if I can’t have you, no one can” troupe and all and like then Felix witnessed it and all angsty sad thingy so sorry if’s dark but thank youu so muchh 🥰🥰✨💖

Till Death

Oliver Quick x Fem Reader

Summary: After you and Felix starting going out, Oliver began developing an unhealthy infatuation with you. Anytime someone laid their eyes or hands on you, it made him feral. One night at a party he finally caves in to his depraved urges.

Word Count: 3.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Stalking Kink, Blood Kink, Knife Kink, CNC Kink, Nasty Smut.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was the beginning of the spring semester at Oxford University. Everyone seemed to be in a joyous mood, coming back from Christmas break completely decked out in mommy and daddy’s money. Grades are reset and all your friends are saying “I think a 7am lecture every Wednesday and Friday will be refreshing” or “I'm actually going to keep up with my canvas discussion questions this time around.” The best parties of the year are during spring semester, because everyone's stress levels are relatively low. Oliver was planning on heading to a house party with you and Felix. Both of you were friends before Felix and you got together so you two always invited him out when partying. Oliver always obliged in these invites but not for the sake of friendship. He liked keeping tabs on you, watching you get drunker and drunker. You were such a know it all in class, always raising your hand. Yearning to be a teacher's pet, going the extra mile to be the perfect student. Seeing you at night gave Oliver a high stronger than any bump he could take. Watching that innocent good girl facade fade away with the more wild you became after getting intoxicated drove him crazy.

It made him furious when he saw the way Felix handled you, he was so sweet and gentle. It was so obvious that you craved a stronger hand. Wanting so badly for anyone to dominate and to remind you of your purpose. The way you flaunt your body around, practically begging to be shoved to the ground and taught how to act properly. Currently all three of you are getting ready in the dorm Felix and Oliver shared. You were in the bathroom leaning over the sink, your hips pressed against the edge. Your mouth was hanging open while applying mascara, Oliver was watching while making small talk with Felix. Who had his face buried deep in his closet looking for something to wear. Everytime you leaned closer to the mirror the oversize shirt you wore rose up, revealing your panty line.

“Maybe just a polo, nothing too crazy,” he said, pulling out two options.

“How much time before we go!” you called out from the bathroom.

“10 minutes!” Oliver replied.

“Shit!” you gasped, rushing to finish. Felix was completely distracted, putting his shoes on and getting his things together. His phone went off every five seconds, after a while he finally went to see what all the buzz was about.

“Fuck, Mason asked me to pick up a few bottles. Oliver, will you stay and walk with her and I'll meet the two of you there?” he asked.

“Of course, see you there mate,” Oliver held back a scoff, Felix was such an idiot. Leaving you there for him to do… well, whatever he felt like.

You kissed Felix goodbye and unraveled the hot rollers out of your hair. Fluffing it out before circling hairspray around it. Applying the last few touches like lip gloss and perfume. It was around 11pm and the weather outside was nippy. You being half dressed were feeling the effects of this quite viciously. The two of you were making small talk, mostly about the weather or school. Oliver didn’t give a fuck about what you were going on about. He was using it as an excuse to watch you, shiver and shake. The way your teeth were chattering together was driving him insane. The house wasn’t even a mile from campus but your heels were slowing the both of you down a bit. Like a wounded little animal hobbled by the wolf chasing it. This hummored him, thinking about how this would look if you were alone. The street lamps shining down, the light reflecting off your tan moisturized legs. Your lustrous jewelry also catches some of that light, practically calling wandering eyes to your body. Speaking of, your body was barely covered. Wearing a tube dress that barely covered your upper thighs. The material was cotton which meant it hugged you tightly. Fuck, he felt like he could see your goosebumps through it when he looked hard enough. He hated that Felix didn’t correct any of this. If you were his, he’d never let you walk about like that, any guy they passed had his eyes on you. Focusing in like you were their prey, it made his heart race. Bubbling with anger and jealousy, wanting to rip their throats out because he knew what they were thinking. Finally getting to the party, Felix was already a couple shots in, obviously his side quest went a bit off the rails. Giving you a quick kiss before going back to entertaining ‘the boys’ who were quite sweet on him. Annoyed by the lack of attention, you poured an overly generous amount of liquor into your cup and headed into the living room. Where the speakers were blaring and a large group of people were dancing all together.

Oliver sat on the couch, plastic cup in hand watching you. At first, your moves were more reserved. Keeping to yourself, dancing next to people rather than on them. As you suck down your liquor, your moves are becoming less modest. Now dancing against your friend, her manicured fingers gripping your hips. Oliver didn’t drink anything from his cup yet, he didn’t want to lose too much control over himself. Nor did he want anything to impair the focus he had on you. Sweat was starting to bead on your body and your dress was riding up. He liked noticing all these little things about you, the shift in your demeanor and attitude once you were drunk. Normally you were sweet-mannered and shy but when you were fucked up, you were more bratty and vulgar. Not afraid of acting out, practically screaming for someone to put you in check. He ripped his eyes off you and looked over into the kitchen. Seeing Felix down another shot, eyes practically drifted in two different directions. His girl who was way out of his league is half naked and drunk surrounded by wandering hands. He was so oblivious and stupid. Looking back your direction and his jaw dropped. You were standing right above him, hovering over where he was sitting on the couch.

“Why don’t you ever dance?” you ask him.

“Hmmm?” he asked, as if he didn’t hear you.

“Any time you come with us to a party, you never get like -hiccup- get crazy,” you say, sinking down to sit next to him. Now whispering in his ear whenever you spoke.

“I do, I just pace myself,” he leaned in.

“Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night,” you giggled, pulling a joint out from behind your ear.

“You’re sparking up here?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow.

“You gonna stop me?” you asked, smirking and lighting it.

He felt all the blood in his brain rush down towards his dick. Almost lunging at you, like it was the perfect invitation to finally break you down. Your charm bracelet jingling everytime you bring it to your mouth for a drag. He chuckled to himself, remembering how just hours earlier you were eagerly raising your hand, hogging the attention from the teacher. Beaming every time she reaffirmed your answers, ‘amazingly accurate’ or ‘well done’ things like that that made you practically jump with joy. Now you were double fisting and practically sitting in your boyfriend’s mate’s lap. He was at his breaking point, feeling like his entire body was on fire. Like every atom and cell in his body was pushing him to take you.

“Maybe we can get out of here? The air is starting to feel sticky,” Oliver says, standing up.

“Oh of course! I was starting to feel the same way, especially after dancing,” you said, standing up and following him. Holding on to his belt loop, letting him lead you out of the house.

Once the two of you finally got outside, your body was having a sublime reaction. Due to you being hot and sweaty, the cold weather outside was causing water vapor to come off your body. Oliver could feel his mouth salivating, watching you hands shake and you brought the joint to your mouth. You offered him a hit several times but he declined, enjoying watching you become high out of your mind. Making drunken conversation as you walked, digging into your purse and looking for your pen after the joint was smoked down to the crutch. It wasn’t until you started walking that you realized how fucked up you were. Even when you really try to keep your balance, you’d sway and wobble from time to time. Looking at your phone, checking the stats on your recent post. So preoccupied in your own little world that you didn’t notice Oliver was no longer with you. Dropping your phone into your purse and looking around, calling out to him. The street no longer looked safe and quaint. After standing there doing circles trying to locate him, you gave up and started the walk home. Or at least back to their dorm room. Clutching your purse and trying to fight through the pain your heels were giving you.

Oliver was watching from about fifteen or twenty feet behind you. Seeing you look around with that unsure and scared expression on your face. Eyebrows furrowed and your eyes wide and glossy. Stumbling over your own feet as you walked around in circles looking for him: completely defenseless. You dropped your pen and bent down to get it, unknowingly exposing your backside to him. As you walked you kept pulling your dress down, the cold starting to get to you. He continued to follow, hiding in plain sight like in front of a parked car or mailbox. You were beginning to feel paranoid, hearing leafs crunching or being spooked by dogs barking. Pulling out your phone and ringing Oliver, frustration and uncertainty written all over your face. Amused and aroused by your fear, he would throw a pebble in your direction. It hit your heel and made you jump and fall onto the ground. The road did a number on your knees, both of them now bloody and dripping down your shin. Now crying, feeling overwhelmed and frightened. Oliver had to hide his smirk as he came over to ‘rescue’ you.

“Where did you go! I literally fell!” You cried, reaching out for him to help you up.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how we got separated- here let me carry you back yeah?” he asks with a sickeningly patronizing tone.

“Really?” you asked even though he was already picking you up. His cock was throbbing while looking down on you. Mascara running down your face, teeth chattering and bleeding like a hurt little bunny. He carried you the rest of the way bridal style. Resting your head on his shoulder, complaining about your knees everyone in a while. It wasn’t long until the two of you finally made it back. He lets you stand up but once you put your weight on your legs you start wobbling, using him to support yourself. He grabs your forearm quite roughly and pulls you inside. You were confused as to why he was being a little aggressive but brush it off. Walking over to Felix’s bed and plopping down, finally taking your heels off. Oliver locked the door and jammed a chair underneath the doorknob. Taking notice of this, you start to question him,

“How will Felix let himself in?” you ask.

“Enough of that. Pretending you care about him,” he said, turning to face you.

“I don’t- I care about him,” you say with a mix of defensiveness and disbelief.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you’re in denial or just too prideful to accept it but you don’t care about him. You think he’s stupid and want more. It’s okay, just admit it,” he says, walking slowly towards you.

“Why are you acting like this?” you asked, confused to where this was coming from.

“Me acting like what? Calling you out on a fact? You’re one of those girls who likes to think she’s confident and calling the shots at all times. In reality all you really want is someone to turn your brain off. Take complete control over you and fuck you until you fall apart. Completely brain dead, only worry being when a cock is shoved in your stupid fucking throat,” he said. Tears stinging your eyes, and insecurity flooding your mind as he continued,

“Would a girlfriend who cares about her boyfriend leave him at the party without even checking on him? Simply to go home early with his best friend to get fucked into the matress,” you said, now hovering above where you were sitting on the bed.

“Not. True.” You said, crossing your arms.

“No? So you wouldn’t mind if I see how wet you are? I have a feeling you’re soaking through your panties as we speak,” he said, getting on his knees. In your head you wanted to immediately reject him, but in your gut you didn’t want to stop him. It was true, you did want someone who was rougher with you. That’s not only aroused but not scared by the concept of hurting you.

“I mean if you don’t want me to please, feel free to stop me,” he said, resting one hand on your knee and the other slowly sliding down your thigh towards your pussy.

You felt like a whore, knowing that you should be stopping him. Shamefully justifying this betrayal with the fact that you haven’t had gratifying sex for a while. Felix was of course dominant and it wasn’t that he sucked at fucking or anything. It was just that he didn’t really understand the whole mental side of it. Also he didn’t want to hurt you. Whenever you made the suggestion of slapping you in the face or choking you a little past your limit, he got nervous. Never really doing these actions with full commitment. The tips of his fingers began to trace your slit, as predicted you’d completely soaked the lace material. Finding a weak spot in the lace material, he uses his fingers and rips a hole. You gasp and go to press your legs together; he moves his hands to your knees, stopping you from closing your legs. His hands were stinging the scraps, you grip onto his hair from both pain and pleasure. Ripping and pulling at the strands as hard as you can. Oliver kept looking up, watching your mouth hang open and the most pornographic moans slipping out. Pulling out the whore he knew you were deep down inside, feeling powerful knowing he was doing what Felix could never. Pulling his hair so damn hard was only building onto the pent up anger and jealousy he had over you. He pulled back, saliva and wetness dripping down his chin. Looking down at you, completely deranged and desperate.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. As you went to respond, he shoved his bloodied fingers into your mouth. Pressing your tongue down, pushing his digits down your throat. You gagged which caused him to laugh before continuing.

“What was that?” he teased, becoming more aggressive. His index and pinky finger were pressed against your cheeks, his nails scratching you.

Finally pulling out and smacking you with the same hand. Even though you were drunk and high off weed and adrenaline, that took you off guard. It burned and the fact that his hand was soaked in your saliva and blood felt embarrassing or humiliating; maybe a bit of both. It made you overwhelmed with turmoil. Something that should be so shameful left you wanting more. Longing for something more painful and intense. The rush and exhilaration of pushing the limits of your emotional and physical boundaries was like a drug you never had before. He grabbed your hair and forced you to the ground, onto your knees. You winced as you fell to the ground, eyebrows furrowing and a moan coming out of your mouth.

“Aww does that hurt?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. Smacking his cock against your lips, smearing pre-cum over your mouth for a while.

“You deaf? Answer the fucking question,” he said, grabbing onto your hair with both hands.

Feeling like this was a trick question, your instinct was to stay quiet. He yanked your hair, showing that he was becoming impatient with your stubbornness. When you open your mouth to answer, he shoves his cock down your throat. Being merciless with his pace, pounding into your mouth, having no regard for your feelings; and you were loving every second of it. Oliver was noticing you were finding a bit too much pleasure in this. Arching your back and rocking your head back and forth. Looking down he sees your hands on the floor supporting yourself. He steps on them, slowly putting more and more weight down and trapping you to the floor. Panic started to set in once you tried pulling your hands away and couldn't. He gathered most of your hair into one hand and used his other to cover your nose. Completely blocking your airway. Oliver watched your eyes widen and your face become beat red from a lack of oxygen. Every time you pulled at your hands or gagged around his cock he would twitch and moan.

“Don’t pass out on me yet, be the good little slut you are and hold on a little longer,” he said, shaking your head by the nose when he noticed your eyes getting glossy and foggy. He finally pulled away, you were sucking in deep breaths. Slowly coming to and he picks you up and lets you fall on the bed.

“Sorry love, I just needed you more pliable for what’s next,” he said, pulling out his pocket knife.

He flips you over onto your knees, shoulders pressed against the mattress. Again, not having any regard for you, he shoves himself into your dripping cunt. Fucking into you slowly, you thought he was being gentle after how aggressive he was being. In reality he is scoping out a good place to carve his initials onto your ass. Using the tip of the blade to make the first mark, you screamed. Not expecting the sudden sting. The entire time he was creating a slit in your skin he would degrade and tease you. Acting sympathetic but really just getting off on owning and marking your body as his. Making you fear and worship him in the sickest way possible. The panic and fear in your scream going straight to his dick, not being able to control the erratic rhythm of his thrusts. He admired his initials becoming less legible due to the blood starting to cover it. He added a few random slash marks on the other ass check, just so the other cuts wouldn’t get lonely. Dropping the knife onto the floor and playing with your ass as he fucked into you. Spanking you causing the blood to fly around, onto your lower back and his face. Once he was done playing, he flipped you around onto your back. You looked smashed, like a hot fucking mess. Seeing how brain dead and broken you were was sending him off the edge. Wrapping his bloody hands around your neck as he came in you. Finally claiming your body, showing you the true purpose of your mouth and pussy. He got up and went to the bathroom to wash up. Smirking as he washed the blood off his face and body. Felix walked in, completely drunk and high out of his mind. On top of that, in shock from seeing your body on the bed, bruised and covered in blood. Screaming and crying attempting to wake you. In so much shock he didn’t even notice Oliver walk out, grinning from ear to ear.

“Fucking idiot,” he scoffed.

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