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perlelune · 10 months

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Creep | Oliver Quick

Though you can’t grasp exactly what, you know something is very off with your boyfriend’s peculiar new friend.

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, Stalking, Voyeurism, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Drinking, Smoking, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamic

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Felix’s long digits drum over your back as he pouts, “You really brought me here just to study, babe?” His raspy, flirtatious tone tugs your lips skyward. Still, your attention doesn’t stray from your laptop screen. Sentences bleed from your fingertips at a quick-fire pace. A little under three thousand words on Bentham’s theory of utilitarianism, due by Monday. The topic isn’t exactly thrilling but you have to hand it over in time.

“If I don’t ace this essay, I’m going to fail this class,” you absently reply. Failure. The one thing you literally can’t afford right now, though you forbear sharing that particular bit with Felix. Best he perceives your single-minded determination as a core stare of your character rather than what it actually is…a necessity, one born of dire circumstances.

He takes a long drag off his cigarette. Grey smoke floats around you, smudging the words on your screen. You repress tears as your eyes burn. You wished he’d curb the nasty habit. You’ve dropped hints before.

But no one tells Felix Catton what to do. Many would kill to even breathe the same nicotin-infused air as him. Felix is the sun and everyone on campus craves to be in his orbit, eager for the slightest chance to bask in his warmth, shower in his light.

You’re no different. The day he asked you out, a little over a year ago, you pinched yourself twice to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Felix Catton wanted…you? It couldn’t be real.

This was the boy you held in your heart for a decade, the only one you ever had eyes for.

And while your relationship suffered its share of hardships, namely Felix’s wandering eyes, you couldn’t picture life without him at your side.

He’s your everything.

He could hurt you a thousand times and you’d forgive him each of those times.

Felix’s bare shoulder grazes yours as he states, “They won’t fail you, not with who your dad is.”

Your stomach knots with his comment. Still, you shrug, pretending away the guilt steadily gnawing your insides.

“I don’t want to get special treatment just because of my family name, Felix,” you say, trying your best to sound nonchalant.

Though his smile never falters, his jaw ticks. “And I do?”

The ice in his tone scatters in your veins. Immediately, you discard your homework, concerned gaze finding his.

“I’m not saying that.” When Felix doesn’t respond, panic roars inside you. You touch his exposed chest to bring his attention to you. He doesn’t move. “I didn’t say that.”

A thick blanket of silence engulfs the room and your airways constrict. It feels as if your heart is on the verge of collapse as you wait for a reaction from your boyfriend, his chestnut gaze glued to the ceiling.

His head turns to you slowly. He releases a large puff of smoke in your face. Tears rush to your eyes, filling them to the brim.

Felix shrugs.

“It sounded like you did. A little. But that’s okay.” His tone is mellow in that way that oozes displeasure. “I’m just a legacy kid getting by on his trust fund and good looks, right?”

Your mouth quakes and he bursts out a chuckle. He cups your cheek, a wide grin breaking onto his face. “I’m just fucking with you, babe.”

You swallow your budding tears, wiping your eyes swiftly as Felix reaches around you to put out his cig in the ashtray.

You punch him in the chest, your own laughter bubbling out.

“You’re an arsehole.”

His grin expands. Twining your fingers with his, Felix’s tone gets softer.

“I wanted to ask…” He trails off, brown gaze clinging to yours. “Can Ollie come to the party you and Anabel are throwing tonight?”

You tilt your head in befuddlement. “Ollie?”

He traces the lines in your palm, adding absently, “Yeah, Oliver. I told you about him. Saved my arse when my bike broke.”

“Right, bike guy,” you say, remembrance hitting you. You tilt your head. “What’s he like?”

Felix sighs.

“He doesn't have too many friends. He's also had a rough upbringing. So I thought we could help him a little, you know?” You study him. However casual your boyfriend attempts to sound, you instantly recognize what this is. Yet another try at playing knight in shining armor. Whoever this Oliver guy is, he’s now become your boyfriend’s side project. His charity case possibly.

“He’s not like us so we could try to be nice.”

Not like us. You mask your discomfort with a bright smile.

About a year ago, your dad’s company filed for bankruptcy. Thankfully your scholarship still allows you to attend Oxford, but your lifestyle has drastically changed. No more shopping sprees. No more casual leisure trips to Europe. No more frivolous spendings with daddy’s black card.

The last straw was when your father emptied every account, including your trust, and left the country without as much as a goodbye text. Since those events, your mother has taken refuge at the bottom of a whisky bottle. You can barely get a hold of her these days.

So not only are you penniless, you might as well be an orphan.

Felix is all you have left. You can’t risk him finding out the truth. He can never know about the part time jobs you’ve had to take to cover tuition costs or the small flat your mum had to move into after your father had to sell the family manor. He might think you’re beneath him now, working class, destitute. Or worse, he might pity you, treat you like a charity case too.

You follow the curve of his dark brow with your thumb, sweeping over his silver stud.

“Hm, sure. I can be nice,” you promise.

“I know you can,” he teases, large hands pulling on your thighs to spread you across his lap.

You squeal before scolding him, “Felix…I really really need to finish this essay.”

His eyes darken with lust as he licks his lips. He wiggles his hips, causing the bulge in his jeans to rub against your clothed center. Your breath hitches. “And I really really need you to take care of this for me.” His hoarse, desperate inflection makes your core clench. His palms run over your thighs beneath your short dress. “Just five minutes? Come on, I’ve been hard for like an hour, babe.”

He hums, already playfully fiddling with the edge of your lace panties.

“It’s your fault for wearing this fucking pink dress. You know the way your ass looks in it drives me crazy.”

You resolve crumbles beneath Felix’s heated stare. You can never tell him no. And he knows that. Releasing a deep sigh, you relent.

“Five minutes,” you offer.

He slides one finger inside your weeping core. As you draw a sharp breath, Felix beams.

“It’s all I need,” he coos.

The party’s at his height, loud music blasting from the gigantic speakers and glow sticks waving in the pitch blackness of the underground cellar. You thread your way between tipsy students, carrying two cups of beer in your hands.

As you reach the VIP corner, you hand Annabel her drink. The redhead mumbles her thanks as she bobs her head to the music. You peer at your surroundings, glad to see everyone having fun.

It’s a frank success. Pride trickles inside you at that. It’s been hard collecting pockets of free time to put it together between classes and assignments. But you did it.

Truthfully, you’re also craving some fun tonight. All you’ve done lately is studying. You miss the days when you were more carefree, unconcerned about your grades deciding the course of your future.

You glance down at your watch, scowling as you notice the time. He was supposed to be here three hours ago.

“Where’s Felix?” you ask Venetia. Your boyfriend’s sister lazily opens her eyes, a drunken smile spreading onto her lips. She shrugs. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him around.”

You pivot to the rest of the group.

“Have you guys seen him tonight?”

Annabel shakes her head apologetically while Farleigh brings his blunt to his mouth with a taunting smile.

“Desperate much?” he teases.

“Farleigh, come on,” Anabel chastises. She bumps her shoulder into yours, her expression sympathetic. “Don’t mind him, you know he’s always a jerk after a few drinks.”

Farleigh sighs. “Darling, you know I love you. It was just a joke.”

“A joke, right…” you mumble. Your cheeks heat though you try not to let your feelings show. Still, Farleigh’s words linger in your head. Maybe you’re being too clingy. It’s something you should mind. What if you became too needy and Felix grew bored of you? It’s not like he wouldn’t find a replacement for you in a heartbeat.

You lie back on the plush couch, sipping from your beer cup as your friends continue their chat. The conversation has long since stopped making sense, fueled by drug-inspired ramblings. Your attention is halved by your straying train of thoughts, the current whereabouts of your boyfriend still at the forefront of your brain.

Another hour flies by before Felix’s towering frame finally pierces through the crowd. A smaller boy trails behind him, his expression mirroring that of a lost puppy. He adjusts his glasses, awkwardly avoiding the drunken bodies around him. The word “Sorry” doesn’t stop pouring from his mouth.

You realize this must be Oliver. Astonishment flows through you. This isn’t the kind of company Felix traditionally keeps. But you elect to try your best to be nice and welcoming.

It’s what Felix asked of you after all. Besides, entering a new group of people cannot be easy, your tight-knit circle having known each other since kindergarten for some.

You don’t miss Anabel’s fleeting, condescending glance as she takes in Oliver though. Getting her assent to let him come had been a hassle, as she regards him as some weird, scholarship kid who’d just bring the mood down. But you insisted and she finally caved.

You trade a meaningful look with her, silently nudging her to be nice. The redhead practically rolls her eyes but squeezes her lips shut. Annabel may be one of your best friends but even you’re aware that she can be quite snobbish at times.

A sullen expression decorates your face as Felix enters the private booth.

“You’re late,” you blurt out. Farleigh snickers behind you and your cheeks flare. But everything around you fades as Felix grabs your face and presses feverish lips over yours. Your irritation melts in the heat of the passionate kiss.

When he frees your mouth, his thumb runs over your swollen bottom lip as he explains casually, “Yeah we were just hanging out and we lost track of time.”

He then introduces the shy boy.

“That’s Ollie.”

“Nice to meet you,” he stutters.

“Likewise,’ you reply smiling.

You gauge him. Beneath the large glasses, you note the slanted blue eyes and soft, round boyish features. Felix’s friend is cute. If only he weren’t so painfully awkward.

“You should sit with us. There’s plenty of space,” you say.

Felix draws you onto his lap as he sits. Oliver takes a nervous seat next to the two of you. His eyes keep rising to Felix, as if seeking perpetual approval from your boyfriend. You’re a little perplexed. Farleigh hands Felix a spliff and he lets his hand rest on your thigh while taking a long drag from it.

“So, where are you from exactly?” you ask Oliver.

His gaze on you and Felix is sharp, somehow constantly darting to where your boyfriend’s holding you.

“Prescott,” he answers.

You mull over his response. It’s a few hours away from Oxford. You don’t know much about it. Though, based on what Felix implied about the way he grew up, you expected him to originate from a rougher area. Prescott doesn’t seem too awful.

“Prescott? They must be proud of you back home, especially your parents.”

“Probably not, actually.”

Your curiosity is piqued. “Why are you saying that?”

Oliver shrugs. His eyes find the floor before meeting yours again.

“Just don’t talk to them much,” he mutters. “They got problems and stuff…”

You slant your head. “Problems?”

Felix’s hand tightens atop your thigh. “Babe, that’s enough prying, don’t you think?”

“I’m just making conversation, trying to get to know him.”

“You’re embarrassing him, babe.”

Oliver’s blue gaze lifts to yours, his face unreadable.

“No, it’s fine,” he says, though you detect a slight edge to his timbre that wasn’t there before. A small smile tugs his lips. “I don’t mind questions. Got nothing to hide.”

You nod. An icy tickle blooms at the base of your spine, scattering outward as Oliver’s intense focus doesn’t leave you. You turn away, shifting your attention to your boyfriend. Throughout the entire night, a strange sensation thunders through you, like the lightning before the storm. You can’t explain it. It’s like the world shifted off its axis, though you can’t pinpoint the reason.

Thankfully the strangeness is cast aside by Felix’s soft lips and heady, masculine scent. As the party goes on in the background, the two of you sneak away. You end up making out in a dark corner, Felix’s greedy hands slipping beneath your short skirt to grab a fistful of your ass. He pinches your flesh and you squeal.

A warm chuckle spills from his lips as he peppers tender kisses alongside your neck.

“Let’s go back to my dorm,” he whispers.

You readily agree. He takes your hand and the two of you hitch a ride back to campus. The two of you giggle in the backseat of the car every time the driver berates you for getting too handsy with each other. You laugh it off all the way back to his room, lips locking as you cross the threshold. You jump to wrap your legs around Felix’s tapered waist. He purrs, his hands latching around your hips, pulling you closer. He pushes you against a wall, tracing a scorching path in the valley between your breasts. Moaning, you toss your head back.

As your eyes flutter however, you catch sight of a silhouette standing outside Felix’s window. Your heart bounces, your eyes growing saucer-wide. You gasp and leap away from Felix.

“What the fuck?” he curses as you race to the window. Chest pulsing with your quick heartbeats, you peel the window open to peek outside. The cold night air whisks inside the room. Goosebumps break out on your skin.

Your gaze wanders, searching the darkness. Confusion swells within you as you find nothing. Nothing but greenery, the same trees and grass flanking your path whenever you stroll through campus.

“There was someone outside, w-watching us,” you stammer.

Felix’s frustrated breath grazes the back of your neck. “Babe, there’s no one out there.”

You squint, dumbfounded when nothing but pitch blackness stares back at you. For a minute, you really believed someone stood there. In fact, whoever they were bore a peculiar resemblance to…

You catch yourself before finishing the thought.

Now that’s just crazy.

“But I saw…”

Felix shifts your body towards him. He cups your cheeks and rasps, “Hey. Hey, look at me. There’s no one but us here.” His lips collide with yours. He starts groping you again and you push him off you, stunned that he wants to have sex at a time like this.

“No, Felix, I-I can’t.”

He stumbles back and scoffs, “Oh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you inquire, glowering at him.

His gaze flicks over you, his expression cold. “All that teasing just to leave me high and dry?”

“Felix, wait…”

He avoids your touch, collecting his jacket from the bed when your fingers stretch towards him.

“It’s fine. I’m just gonna have a smoke. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Your stomach sinks.

“O-Okay,” you say as your hand retreats to your side.

The door slams shut and you collapse on Felix’s bed. Your eyes veer to the window once more. You could have sworn you caught a glimpse of someone. Maybe all those late nights writing essays and revising for the upcoming exams are slowly catching up to you, dragging you to the brink of madness.

Felix doesn’t call you the following day. Of course he doesn’t. You broke the mood. You acted weird. What reason does he have to want to be around you again? It’s bad enough you neglected him in favor of your assignments and club activities for the last few weeks. Now you can’t even enjoy the sparse time you have together.

Still, you flip your phone open all day long, longing for a word from him, any trivial, insignificant word.

You get nothing.

You gloomily drag your feet around campus and somehow find your way in one of the empty student lounges, save Farleigh and Venetia. Lying flat on the carpeted floor, eyes glued to the ceiling, the two of them are sharing a spliff. You wedge yourself between them, lying on your back also. You steal the roll from Venetia’s fingers and bring it to your lips. Your throat burns and you cough as you inhale a puff. Venetia’s lips curve upward as your eyes water.

“You gotta take it easy the first time,” she says, amusement lighting her olive orbs. “Tiny inhales.” She shows you how and you mimic her gestures. You go slower the second time and a pleasant numbness sets into your limbs. Your eyes shut. You kind of get it now. For the first time in several weeks, your mind’s almost at rest, your stormy thoughts quieted.

“You don’t smoke,” Farleigh notes near you.

“I am today.”

“You guys will be fine,” Venetia assures. “You’re always fine.”

Your eyes open, settling on the pristine white ceiling.

“I fucking hate him sometimes.” You pause, sucking a deep breath. “But I love him more.”

“Yep, that’s Felix,” they utter in unison.

You heave out a weary sigh. They grew up with him. They know better than anyone, how sweet and wonderful he can be, but also cruel and careless sometimes.

Just like the sun, Felix’s light can also burn whoever gets too close.

For a while, the three of you hang out in silence, the spliff switching hands every once in a while. Eventually, each of them rises, leaving you to your mopey thoughts.

Before taking his leave however, Farleigh whispers in your ear,

“Oh and darling, next time you wear a rental…make sure the price tag isn’t sticking out. It gives you away.”

You sit up immediately. A smile dances on the boy’s lips as he disappears. You grab the back of your neck, face warming as you feel the tag poking through the collar of your shirt.

You nearly forgot you’re due to return the designer piece in two days’ time. You can’t believe someone noticed. Though you suppose if anybody would, it’d be Farleigh. Nothing gets past his keen eye. You surmise it was a necessity with the way he grew up. Learning to read people, knowing what makes them tick, being able to spot a pretender from a mile away…which you are now.

Maybe it’s ludicrous, acting like you can still afford to live like this, like your life wasn’t turned upside down.

Still, you can’t fathom the alternative. The judgement, the pity, from your friends…from Felix. The thought alone makes you sick. The echo of Anabel’s voice as she disparaged Oliver’s background a few days ago never left you.

Dunno what Felix even sees in him. He’s some weird scholarship kid who buys his clothes at Oxfam.

That was harsh…and made you wonder what your best friend would have to say about your current situation.

So you’d rather lie, even if you sometimes look like a fool doing so.

You swallow a wide lungful, willing yourself to be calm. You repeat the mantra, again and again. You’re okay. You’re okay. You just need to keep your grades up and get through the semester.

The rest of the week is hell. Felix all but ignores you, not even sparing you a glance when he brushes past you in the university corridors. The itch to talk to him sears inside you. Unfortunately, he’s always surrounded by a swarm of people, the center of attention as usual, making approaching him near impossible. You can’t picture bringing up your relationship problems in front of so many eyes.

Besides, you don’t want to project desperation, Farleigh’s pointed gibe still resonating in your mind. You need to play it cool, wrap yourself in a disguise of indifference…despite the way you wither away every second he’s not texting you back.

The agonizing wait is made worse by him. He’s everywhere now. Wherever Felix goes, he goes too. Oliver Quick has essentially become your boyfriend’s shadow. Whether in class, at pub meetups, at parties, the quiet, nervous boy never abandons Felix’s side, always peering up at him with those round baby blues of his, a strange mix of admiration, devotion and…something else you can’t pinpoint etched on his face.

It’s sort of creepy in your opinion.

Though you’d never say it aloud. For some reason, Oliver’s his new toy. And you’re acutely aware of how Felix is with his toys. He plays with them for a while then moves on to the next fancy, shiny new one. He did it to Eddie before. Now Oliver.

And maybe it’ll be your turn one day…if you don’t do something.

It’s how you end up in front of his dorm one night, already tipsy from half a bottle of vodka. Liquid courage to get you to knock on his door. It’s pathetic. Of course it is, but you just can’t wait anymore.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and shaking off your nerves. Your knuckles are less than an inch from the door when a broken whimper reaches you from the other side of Felix’s door.

Brows furrowing, you place your ear against the wood. You hear a moan this time. Deep, distinctive, masculine…familiar. Your heart stops.

You plummet to your knees, peering through the keyhole. You feel wrong for doing so, for invading Felix’s privacy like this. But guilt crumbles beneath the weight of heartbreak at what you witness.

You almost find yourself wishing you hadn’t looked. Almost.

Rivulets of anguish flow down your face as you watch your best friend and boyfriend lip-locked, practically swallowing each other’s faces. Their clothes aren’t off but the urgent way they’re grinding against each other is a dead giveaway as to what’s to come.

Legs trembling, you stumble back from the door. You shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake. You’re a fool.

You drunkenly stagger through the corridors, clinging to the walls each time you almost trip over your own feet.

You wind up slumped on some stairs, too inebriated to carry yourself much further. Your lids sag as you exhale. More hot tears spill down your cheeks. Your chest aches, a knife piercing through your heart as the memory of Annabel and Felix lost in the throes of passion fleets across your brain. Why are you even shocked? It’s not like you never caught Anabel leering at him while she thought you weren’t looking. And it’s not like Felix is some kind of saint. Still, you can’t help but feel massively betrayed. You thought you meant more to him. You thought they wouldn’t…not with each other.

When your eyes flutter open, you find a pair of intense cobalt orbs studying you.

“Oliver…” you mumble. In your drunken stupor, you don’t bother wondering how he got here, seemingly materializing from thin hair.

He hunkers in front of you. His scent tickles your nose and it twitches. The smell of his cologne is so strikingly reminiscent of the one Felix wears. A wave of emotion engulfs you. Sobs shake your frame as you shrink against the wall.

Oliver’s gaze rises to your weeping face as he questions, “Are you okay?”

“M’fine…” you slur, wiping your snotty nose. You must look a fright, a pathetic heap of tears aimlessly wandering the university corridors.

He tilts his head. “You don’t look fine.”

You consider Oliver. He is cute, which you noticed before. And in the dimly lit stairway, his blue eyes burn even brighter. You loathe that Felix is allowed to hurt you the way he did and can just…keep on. If your friends aren’t off-limits, why would his be?

You bat your lashes at Oliver.

“You got any alcohol?”

His lips curve upward as he rasps, “Would you like me to have alcohol?”

How did you end up there? The question keeps swirling in your head as Oliver’s mouth hungrily devours yours, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer. He trails fevered kisses down your neck and you squirm. As his teeth sink into the flesh at the crook of your neck, you let out a sharp cry. You tug on his dark locks and Oliver growls against your skin. The pain mixes with pleasure in your haze. His tongue then circles where he punctured your flesh, dragging slowly as an elated purr rises from his chest. His hard-on presses into your thigh. Alarm bells ring inside your mind.

It’s all a little too real, you realize. You got carried away. You draw back, pushing against his chest. “Oliver, wait…”

You might as well have said nothing, your words falling to unlistening ears as Oliver grabs your wrists and nudges you on the bed on your back. You peer up at him. Lust darkens his blue gaze, making him appear almost inhuman in the darkness.

Your mouth wobbles.

Pinning your wrists at your sides, Oliver kisses you senseless. Soon his lips are tracing a scorching path down your body, his hands moving to peel off your short skirt and panties.

His attentive gaze doesn’t leave yours as he sluggishly drags the tiny layer of lace down your legs.

His throat bobs when your bare cunt is exposed to him.

Biting his bottom lip, Oliver crawls his way to your core. Your legs quake. There is a strange glow in his eyes that sends chills down your back.

“Oli-” you start, but the protest dwindles in a helpless whimper when Oiver buries his head between your thighs and flicks his tongue against your bundle of nerves. Oliver’s firm hands clasp around your thighs, keeping you in place when you attempt to close your legs. He greedily eats you out, fingers digging into your soft flesh. He suckles your tender button in his mouth and your eyes roll back. Your fingers get lost in his dark mane as your back arches against the sheets. Oliver’s feverish tongue sweeps around your folds and you grow weaker, slumping against the pillow.

Quickly, stars dangle in your vision. Your fists tighten around the sheets while your legs turn to jelly. A long breath flows from your lips.

You don’t remember ever coming that hard before, not even with Felix.

Tingles are still dancing over your legs as a sliver of clarity returns to you.

Oliver’s tongue slowly moves, collecting the remnants of your essence off his lips as a look of sheer bliss decorates his face. You shiver.

You try to move off the bed. “I think that’s enough,” you say, folding your knees.

Oliver’s mouth quirks lopsidedly. “Oh, we’re nowhere near done, luv.”

Much quicker than you, Oliver slithers his way up your body and cages you beneath his frame. He steals your lips in a hungry kiss, trapping your wrists above your head. His fingers are tight enough that you just know it’ll bruise. You taste your own bittersweet flavor on his tongue. His hand creeps under your shirt, groping your tits. He plants urgent pecks on your face, dragging his teeth along your jaw.

“Oliver, please…” you beseech, shock making your voice shake.

He sinks a finger between your slick walls. Your stomach tightens.

Oliver releases your swollen lips and twists his finger inside your core. Your breath hitches.

He smiles down at you.

“But you’re gushing down there, luv. This is what you want.”

Your face warms. You hate that he’s right, that your body clings to him, making space you wish it didn’t…almost inviting his actions.

But Oliver’s mouth and hands are far too good at knowing which buttons to press to turn you into a whimpering mess. Shame pools in your gut as sharp keens leave your lips.

He pumps inside you at a steady pace, his thumb teasing your heap of sensitive nerves every once in a while, pressing until you cry out. He adds another finger and the air in your lungs falters. His hands feel everywhere at once, his teeth and mouth scattering marks all over your body.

He doesn’t stop until you clench around him, soaking his hand with your juices when you shatter with a high-pitched wail.

You crash over the pillows. Your body is still coming off the high. Half-lidded eyes blindly rise to the ceiling. Oliver yanking off his shirt and discarding his pants doesn’t register, not fully, the entire bottle of vodka you emptied before making your mind slow.

He’s suddenly inside you, his thick length splitting you apart as he places his forearms besides your head.

Your lips part in a quiet shout. It feels like if you might break, your walls aching as they stretch around him.

He begins to rail into you, each of his thrusts blunt and animalistic. As if he were possessed by some beast. You know it’s ludicrous. But as the lewd clapping of your damp skin against his rises each time he buries himself balls-deep inside you…it’s how you feel. Like a wild animal somehow broke free and started rutting into you.

Your head lolls against the pillows, your thoughts going blank every time he grazes your sweet spots. Your fingernails rake down his back.

“Does Felix fuck you like this?” he rasps. He presses his chest against yours, his cock hitting an angle that draws a lengthy moan from you. A crooked smile ghosts over Oliver’s lips. “Or maybe more like this…”

His warm breath fans over your earshell.

“Tell me luv… How do our cocks compare?”

When you don’t respond, he roughly shoves inside you, his fingers cinching around your windpipe. You gasp in horror, gaping at him through tear-filled eyes.

“Answer me,” he instructs, his voice deeper than before.

“Y-You’re bigger than he is,” you sputter, struggling to get the words out with his hand squeezing your throat.

A peculiar blend of excitement and disappointment swims in his gaze when you answer.

You weakly claw at his chest, squirming beneath him. He doesn’t let you go, bending to shove his tongue in your mouth. He drags his tongue over your face, licking your hot tears. Sobs jostle your frame.

“Oliver, please,” you repeat.

He shushes you, framing your chin. His thumb follows the outline of your bottom lip, bleeding and swollen from all his rough kisses.

“Stop fighting it. Be a good girl.” He showers tender pecks across your collarbone before softly whispering against your temple, “Or I’ll tell Felix everything. That you came onto me, begging me to fuck you.” His devilish smile sears into your skin. “I’ll tell him what a good little slut you were for me.”

Your stomach drops. Oliver collects your tears with his fingertips. He shoves his fingers in his mouth, emitting a throaty moan at the taste of your despair. He then dips those same fingers in your mouth, his pelvis snapping into yours.

“It’s beautiful, how much you love him,” Oliver mumbles, growing harder inside you as a fresh wave of tears brim beneath your lashes. “You’re beautiful. I can see why he always comes back.” He rests his forehead against yours, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips.

“Maybe I’ll keep you for myself when this is all done.”

The awakening in the early morning is rude, the wicked headache and ache in your limbs reminding you of last night’s events right away. Strips of sunlight sneak between the curtains, caressing your face. The usually pleasant warmth does nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Your stomach clenches as you peer at your side. Oliver’s completely naked, only wearing the silver chain always around his neck. His arm is lazily spread over your belly. You don’t dare move, fearing he’ll wake up.

What would you even say?

This is a disaster. You somehow ended up in Oliver’s room and…had sex with him.

You swallow a shaky sob as your gaze travels low. Your panties are torn, which you didn’t notice last night. At least your clothes can still be worn, lying in a messy heap at the bottom of the bed. Carefully, you writhe your way out of Oliver’s hold and grab your clothes.

You hastily put your skirt and shirt back on, trying not to cry when you realize you’re going to have to walk back to your dorm without your knickers. Heat rushes to your cheeks.

You toss a glance behind you, relieved when you find him still sleeping soundly.

You climb off the bed. Your heart leaps when the mattress squeaks as you rise.

Pulse quickening, you head for the door.

Pain radiates through your lower body when you move. You stagger the rest of the way, constantly tugging on your short skirt as you pray not to encounter any strong gust of wind on the way back.

Before leaving, you look back.

Oliver’s still sprawled on his side on the bed but his eyes are wide open now.

No word leaves his mouth as he studies you in silence.

A wide, lazy smile slowly unfans on his lips.

Your blood turns to ice. Fumbling with the doorknob, you scurry outside the door.

Once you’re outside, you slam the door closed.

You dart panicked glances around the corridor. Relief fills you when you note that it’s empty. For now. It won’t be long before students start milling about.

You shamefully return to your dorm. The entire walk back, paranoia lurks at the edge of your mind. You keep wondering if every stranger you come across can tell what you did.

And you keep hoping not to run across anyone you know.

When you reach your bedroom, you lock the door. You make a beeline for the bathroom. You need a shower, expeditiously. Oliver’s smell still lingers on you. When you catch your disheveled reflection in the bathroom mirror, you’re shocked. You approach the mirror on unsteady legs. You crane your neck, your fingertips skimming over the two puncture wounds on your neck. A cool wave ripples down your back. It’s twisted. You feel like a character in a Polidori’s tale. Except this is reality somehow.

The one where you have to face the fact that you shagged your boyfriend’s new friend…and you’re not even entirely sure that you wanted it. Your mind throbs as you search through your memories. You changed your mind midway through. Oliver did not care.

Oliver did not care…

The ghastly realization has you keel over the toilet bowl to empty the meagre contents of your stomach. You slump to the floor and start quivering over the bathroom floor.

A sudden knock on your door has you rising from the floor.

Your heart skips a beat when you glance through the peephole.

“F-Felix?” you stutter, panic hitting a peak inside you.

His deep voice penetrates through the door.

“Hey, can we talk?” he asks.

He sounds heartbroken, desperate. You almost unleash a sigh. You recognize this. You’ve been there before. This is a rollercoaster you can never get off of, the thrill when you’re high up entirely too intoxicating.

“Right now is not the best time.”

He heaves out a deep sigh. You can literally picture his kicked puppy expression, even with the door between you two. Your heartstrings flutter as you lean against the door. The craving to toss yourself in his arms wars with the sizzling betrayal still sitting in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck. Are you still mad at me?”

Swallowing the surge of tears, you reply, “No. Just feeling a bit rough. Had a tad too much to drink last night.”

“I could take care of you…”

You nibble your lip. It’s tempting. He’s done it before. Bought you pastries and showered you with kisses and cuddles until you got better. When he wants, Felix can be the perfect boyfriend. When he wants.

“No,” you say firmly. “What do you want, Felix?”

“Can’t you just let me in, just for a minute, babe?” His pleading inflection shatters your meek fences.

“The park. In two hours,” you concede. “I got microeconomics right now, can’t miss it.”

“Thank you. Thank you.”

He’s overjoyed. You can’t bear it anymore. You race back to the bathroom as another wave of queasiness engulfs your insides.

Jittery steps lead you through the park as you rejoin him under an oak tree. You spent the last hour in class totally unfocused, your chest tight as you dreaded how this conversation would go.

“Felix,” you greet.

He wraps his arms around you. You remain still in his embrace, the distinctive scent of his cologne floating around you. You feel sick. Now it doesn’t remind you of Felix anymore.

“I really missed you.”

“Didn’t seem like it,” you mumble coolly.

His long exhale tickles your shoulder. “I know. I’m a wanker.”

“More like a selfish arsehole.”

His hold on you slackens as he draws back a little.

A look of hurt and shock covers his face. He isn’t used to you speaking to him so harshly. To him, you’ve only ever been sweet and forgiving. His brows crumple.

“I deserve that.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Listen I… I almost did something awful last night.”

“What thing?” You fiddle with the scarf around your neck. It’s the sole last minute resort you found to conceal the mark decorating your throat.

Of course you know exactly what thing Felix is referring to. You saw it with your own eyes, that thing. If it weren’t for that, you may not be a complete wreck today.

“Doesn’t matter, cause I stopped. It’s not who I want to be anymore.” He cups your face, warm brown gaze diving into yours. “You make me better.”

Words leave your mouth without forethought.

“Who was it this time?”

He hesitates, his jaw tensing. But beneath your heavy stare, he finally caves in.

“It was Annabel.”

“Oh.”

The knife inside your chest twists. It’s one thing to know, to have seen. It’s another to hear it confirmed from your boyfriend’s own mouth. Last night wasn’t some dragged out nightmare; it was reality. When you turn your head, Felix pivots it back to him.

Sincerity vibrates in his tone.

“I ended up kicking her out though.” He wipes the single tear that spills down your cheek. “All I could think about was you, the entire time.” He strokes your face. “You’re the only one for me, babe. This is the last time. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Fuck…”

You spot something you never heard in Felix’s voice before. Fear. And instantly, you break.

He leans his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he states.

You’re dumbstruck. Those words have crossed Felix’s lips at least a thousand times. He’s said them to so many, even strangers…but never to you.

He came close a few times, but never has he been this clear, firm, his meaning unmistakable. Butterflies swarm your stomach.

“I love you,” he repeats.

Felix plants a feverish kiss on your lips, leaving them tingling when he releases you.

“I love you too,” you whisper as your hot breaths mingle.

A sunny smile breaks out on his face.

“No more lies from now on.”

A sinking feeling spreads through you, but you ignore it, returning his smile.

“No more lies,” you echo. Guilt eats at you the second you utter the words.

Felix’s attention veers from you as he waves at someone behind you.

“Hey, Ollie,” he shouts.

The air around you plummets to a few degrees. You go still against Felix, nudging a shaky smile onto your lips.

“I need to go to class,” you chime.

You don’t even turn around, his presence alone sending your senses into alert.

Confusion scrunches Felix’s features.

“Your next class isn’t for another hour.”

You pat his chest, willing yourself to sound more cheerful than you feel.

“Just got some studying to catch up on beforehand.”

Felix’s fingers cling to yours as you try to leave.

“I’ll see you tonight at the pub?”

“Sure.”

He doesn’t let you go until you give him another lengthy kiss. You’re uncomfortable, the weight of a certain somebody’s stare drilling holes into your back.

Things recede to relative normalcy, in some ways better than before, and in others worse. Better because of your relationship with Felix. It improves tremendously. He dotes on you more than he ever has, showering you with gifts and small attentions.

Worse because he’s still there, his unsettling presence the dark cloud over your rekindled romance. Each time you’re forced to be around him, there’s a knowing, smug glint dancing in his eyes, a subtle smile tugging his lips skywards. Perpetual fright eclipses your happiness, all because of Oliver Quick.

What if he told Felix everything? This was a mistake and you’re fairly sure you tried to stop it. You still have nightmares about that night, the way he held you down and wrapped his hand around your neck, stealing your air and ability to defend yourself.

You were helpless. Even letting Felix touch you is hard now, the memory of what Oliver did to you seeping through the cracks whenever you expect it least.

He branded you. And while the marks on your body may have faded, the ones engraved on your soul won’t vanish so easily.

It’s a blessing when Felix finally grows bored with him. You have no idea how it occurred. You simply know that they seem stitched at the hip for months then, suddenly, Oliver is gone. Felix shows up at group meetups without him and stops mentioning him altogether.

As if he took an eraser and wiped him from existence. Just like he did to Eddie back in the day.

You’re relieved…for an ephemeral while alas.

Oliver’s dad's abrupt passing changes everything overnight.

Once more, Felix feels the need to be Oliver’s knight in shining armor.

And once more the two of them are inseparable. Two peas in a pod.

You elect to take some distance. While you understand that Felix wants to help him, it doesn’t mean you have to. Thankfully, with summer fastly approaching, you won’t have to bear with Oliver Quick for much longer.

As usual, James and Elspeth urged you to come spend the summer at Saltburn, particularly Elspeth who couldn’t stop gushing about what a gorgeous couple you and Felix are. And while you may have tried to decline every other year, finding his family to be an awful lot, this year is different. This year, more than ever before, you long for an escape.

Even the pits of hell would be a suitable vacation spot if it meant not having to run across Oliver Quick for two whole months.

It’s a thrilling prospect. These days you can’t be around Felix as much because being around him means being around Oliver, and you just can’t do it. You look forward to having your boyfriend all to yourself. All day long, you dream about lazy afternoons by the pool and cloud-gazing in the grassy fields.

These are the balmy thoughts floating through your mind as you return to your dorm that day after classes end. A carefree smile decorates your face. You can’t wait to finish packing your suitcase. You saved every penny from your part-time job to buy a new swimsuit. And while it made a small dent in your savings, imagining Felix’s face the first time he’ll see you in it makes the tiny sacrifice worth it.

But the smile on your lips dies when you cross the door to your bedroom. Your jaw drops, the stack of books in your hands crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper. You shrink against the door, maintaining as wide a distance as the small room allows.

Oliver doesn’t even spare you a glance, casually lying on your bed with one knee bent like it’s his.

“Your taste in books. A bit of a letdown I gotta say, luv,” he says, flipping the yellowed pages of one of your favourite novels.

You lick your lips. “Look, I’m sorry about your dad…but you can’t be here.” He doesn’t leave your bed, engulfed in his reading. Your brows knit. “Get out of my room, Oliver,” you repeat, folding your arms as you approach the bed.

His cobalt gaze finally settles on you. He places the book on the night table, slow and unhurried as he gets to his feet.

Your pulse soars as he inches closer.

“Or what? You’ll scream?” he challenges. He circles you, gauging you in a way that summons a picture of a lion stalking its prey in your head. Your blood curdles when Oliver’s breath caresses your nape. “Then you’ll have to explain what I’m doing in your room and make a scene.” His voice lowers to a taunting rasp. “Do you want to make a scene?”

Your voice comes out shaky. “What do you want?”

Oliver takes a deep breath while placing his hands on your shoulders. His thumbs trace a slow path along the column of your neck. His lips graze your earshell.

“I want you to come over here, lie on this bed and spread your legs like a good girl for me.” You suck in a sharp breath. His fingers drag down your arm as he adds, “I’m feeling…peckish.”

When you don’t move, he releases a deep sigh.

“...Or I can tell Felix everything.”

Your heart starts hammering in your chest. “What?” you exhale, spinning to face him.

Oliver smiles.

“You guys are great right now. He says you’re the best you’ve ever been. No more lies. No more secrets.” Oliver bends close to you, his smile expanding. “How do you think he’ll react when I tell him that we fucked…” He pauses and you hold your breath. “And that you’ve lied to him about your family this entire year.”

Goosebumps spread across your flesh. You stumble back, your eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. “H-How do you know about that?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, Oliver takes small steps forward, causing you to retreat until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. He places his hands on each side of you. His gaze traces the motion of your neck as you swallow the lump in your throat.

“I…It’s not the right time of the month right now,” you lamely offer.

Oliver’s blue eyes rise as he sinks to his knees in front of you. Tingles bounce over your skin as he rolls your plaid skirt up your thighs.

“And you think it’s something I’m worried about?”

A moan tears from your throat when he buries two fingers inside your core without a warning.

“From now on when I tell you to spread your legs for me, you do as I say,” Oliver informs, his fingers curving inside you. You choke on your breath. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Do you understand?” The threat laced in his tone scatters ice in your veins.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, Oliver,” he corrects.

“Yes…Oliver,” you sputter, legs tensing as his digits reach deeper inside you.

“I’m sure it’ll be a summer to remember.”

Between uneven breaths, you stammer, “W-What do you mean?”

He strokes under your thigh absently.

“Oh didn’t Felix tell you?” He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “I’ve been invited to Saltburn, as a guest.”

When Oliver leans away, he’s smiling from ear to ear. Excitement sways in his cobalt orbs as he studies your crestfallen expression.

“I know. I’m looking forward to it too.”

#saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #oliver quick #oliver quick x reader #dark!oliver quick #dark!oliver quick x reader #dark!fic

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chaotic-birds · 4 months

Note

hi!! i saw you wanted to write fluff and i love your work! i was wondering if you could write a jasonxfem!reader on their wedding day, like getting ready and just being sweet and dopey.

(i tried to send this in earlier but it said it didn’t work so if you already got an ask like this is was from me 🙏🏼)

im so sorry about how late this is but tysm for sending something in! and ty for loving my work 🥺

TW reader has she/her pronouns, one rated r joke (tho its tame aha) | WC 1.5k | G fluff

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty!

masterlist

Jason is usually not one for superstitions, so you were surprised at how adamant he was about not seeing each other until the altar. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop him from designating Dick as his messenger.

“Dude, seriously? This is your seventh note to her,” Dick scoffs at the folded paper in his hand.

Jason looks at his brother through the mirror while fixing his tie for the tenth time.

“And there’ll be an eighth, so stop bitching and go give it to her.”

Dick grumbles, mumbling curses as he huffs out of the room.

“You know, you could just wait and tell her whatever it is in person,” Tim comments.

“And you could just mind your business,” Jason replies.

Jason notices Tim pursing his lips; he’s no doubt repressing his snarky comeback due to it being Jason’s big day.

The sound of the door opening makes Jason snap his head in that direction. Is Dick already back with your note?

Stephanie walks in, a big smile on her face.

“I thought wedding days were supposed to be filled with happiness. What’s up, grouch?” Stephanie questions.

Jason releases a big sigh and turns to face her.

With a pout, he answers, “My tie keeps looking weird.”

She laughs. “You really are nervous, huh?”

Stephanie comes to stand in front of him, undoing his tie.

“Can you blame me? Things don’t exactly go well for us, and I need this day to go well.”

“Is that why there’s a gun in your jacket?” Damian pipes in.

Jason shrugs. He’d feel naked without it.

Stephanie flattens the tie against his chest then taps him to confirm she’s done. Jason turns to the mirror again, overanalyzing the article of clothing. It still doesn’t feel right, but he guesses it never will.

“Thanks,” Jason mutters.

Dick walks back into the room, holding up a small piece of paper.

Jason eagerly meets him halfway and snatches the item from his hand.

You’re unbelievable, Jay. Ditching is not an option! I’ll see you soon xoxo (:

Jason grins at your scribbling. He can tell you’re in a rush and wonders if you’re as nervous as him.

There’s less than an hour to go, and he can’t tell if time is moving too fast or too slow. He just knows he’s ready to say I do.

There was a time when Jason believed a day like this would just be a fantasy. He never thought he’d wear a ring on his left hand. Never thought he’d find a home in a person.

But he’s so glad he did.

Jason stares at you with a smile so large it makes his cheeks hurt. However, he feels it can’t be helped. He’s buzzing with overwhelming joy.

Though, despite that, there’s the ever-present dark cloud above his head, threatening to shower him with self-deprecating thoughts. Thoughts that he wishes he could overcome, but somehow they keep sprouting. The most consistent out of them all is that he’s not deserving of—

“Jay?”

He turns his face and his gaze finds yours. They’re analyzing his features.

“What’s going on up there?” you whisper, sitting at their table at the front of the room. Everyone around them is eating.

It’s then he realizes his smile has faded, leaving behind a dejected expression.

You raise a hand to rub at one of his temples, not wanting to mess up his hair.

“Sorry,” he sighs. His eyes close briefly. When he opens them, you’re still staring at him.

“I love you,” he blurts. “I love you so much.”

You grin widely, hand dropping to grab his.

“I know.” You steal a kiss and squeeze his hand.

Jason opens his mouth to ask if you love him but stops. Out of all the places, all the events, this one should be a clear beacon of how much you love him.

As if reading his thoughts, you lean in and hug him.

It takes everything in him not to pull you into his lap and cuddle you like a stuffed animal.

“You’re the best man I know,” you say close to his ear. “You’re caring, thoughtful, funny, a little bit of a smartass,” you pause to chuckle, “and deserving.”

You pull away but keep a hand on his shoulder blade.

“And not only do I love you, but so does everyone in this room,” you continue. “I couldn’t have married a better man. You’re mine, Jason Todd. You know that?”

Jason hates crying. He hates it even more when it happens in public. But for fucks sake, he can’t stop the two tears that glide down his cheeks.

You kiss one and wipe the other.

“There’s darkness in us all, but focus on the light. Focus on us.”

Jason nods. His heart is beating rapidly from your sweet words.

“I was only supposed to cry at the altar,” he mutters, trying to bring some humor—some light—back into the atmosphere.

You smile. He can tell you’re recalling his tears as he watched you descend the aisle.

“Guess it means you’re a bigger crybaby than me,” you tease. Sure, you’ve shed a tear or fifteen, but not as much as Jason.

“We’ll see about that,” he huffs but there’s a smile on his lips. “The night’s not over.”

“No, it is not, little bro,” a voice joins the conversation as a hand slaps down on Jason’s other shoulder roughly.

Dick grins down at Jason. There’s something in it that’s wicked.

Dick turns, retrieves the microphone from the DJ booth, then walks back. The music lowers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s time to start the fun,” Dick announces into the mic.

The room quiets as people’s attention shifts.

“I’d like to congratulate the lovely couple and share a few words,” he pauses to glance at Jason. “And you bet your zombie ass, I’ll be telling embarrassing stories too.”

Jason narrows his eyes at Dick, but one simple kiss from you on his cheek has him wilting in his chair.

He’s so done for.

Jason is perfectly content watching you on the dance floor from afar. But oh, that won’t do.

From being tossed from Stephanie to Dick, to Duke, to even Damian, he’s had his fair share of time away from his chair. A chair that his feet desperately miss.

“Woah, hey there, handsome,” you smile when you catch him. He sends Cass a glare as he stumbles after she made him spin.

“How are you still standing?” he groans, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist.

You shrug. “I’m surprised you’ve been dancing for so long.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” he grumbles.

He watches you peep over his shoulder and giggle–no doubt seeing his family laugh.

Jason loves your giggles.

“I’m glad you didn’t. I liked watching you shake your little hips,” you joke and wiggle him as if to reenact his moves.

Jason groans louder and grips your waist tighter.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he almost whines.

You pull him closer, whispering, “I rather be under you.”

Jason stops breathing for a moment. A bunch of thoughts fill his head, none of which are appropriate for a public setting.

You pull away, sending him a wink before scurrying off to who knows where. Jason watches you go. He wants to go after you, but truthfully, it’s better if he doesn’t. Or else, he might just find a secluded spot and turn his thoughts into reality.

Jason lets out a deep sigh and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Already can’t keep up?”

Jason turns to see Bruce at his side, eyeing you as you stop at your friends’ table. You throw your head back, laughing loudly as if no one can ruin your mood. You catch Bruce’s stare and smile sweetly—as if you didn’t just whisper something vulgar to Jason a second ago.

Bruce laughs softly, then directs his focus on Jason. He gives him a pat on the back like he’s done so many times before.

“I’m happy for you,” he says. “You’ve done well for yourself, son.”

Bruce gives Jason a genuine, big smile. It’s not one he sees much from him.

Jason nods. He may still have unresolved issues with the man, but there’s no mistaking the care and pride in his eyes.

“Thanks,” Jason says. He would say more, but he’s never been much of a talker… well, a sappy talker.

Bruce understands and gives him one more pat before he walks back to his table.

Jason takes one long sweep across the room. He takes in the pretty decorations and the smiling faces. He sees people who have been by his side through rough times and, now, one of his happiest.

His eyes land on you last.

You’re so beautiful that his heart churns.

Jason can feel the dark cloud forming above his head. He can hear the faint sound of thunder.

He shakes his head.

No.

Not today.

He won’t stand in the storm. He won’t be showered in doubt. If he were to be showered, he wanted it to be with your love.

Ignoring the thunder and drizzle, he moves away from the storm and makes a beeline for you.

Here, with his hand around your waist, there is sunshine and chirping birds. Here, there is happiness.

Here, there is love.

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

Dividers by @strangergraphics (ty!)

#jason todd #jason todd fluff #jason todd fanfic #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #dc fanfic #dc fluff

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just-a-ghost00 · 4 months

Text

What they think when they see you vs what they show (possibly 18+)

You can pick your group thinking about a crush, a lover or anyone you are curious about. But this has to be someone you know currently. It can't be a future person.

Group 1

Their thoughts - 2 of cups, 7 of cups, 8 of cups, Strength, page of cups, knight of cups , back of the deck is The Sun

"I can’t let them know I like them. I can’t show them how I feel for them. I have to act strong. I can’t be vulnerable. My god, I wanna ask them out so bad. Would they even care? They would reject my offer, I’m pretty sure. They must like stronger individuals. Surely I’m not their type. I should better leave. But I can’t. I feel so drawn to them. Hell, what should I do?! Should I stay or should I go? God they’re so beautiful. But I can’t tell them, now can I? I hope they don’t notice I’m staring. Omg they’re looking. Act normal, act normal!"

For some of you this person may be in a connection with someone else already and they are trying to reason themselves and repress their feelings. For others, this person thinks you’re destined to be together but for some reason they are afraid to confess their feelings. It’s like in both cases, the person feels like your holding their heart in your hands. They feel like your hostage. They think you have a lot to offer and you are really independent so you wouldn’t need them nor be interested in them. It’s like they tell themselves "what would such a person do with someone like me? I don’t deserve them". They think you are generous and kind, very emotional. As sweet as the marine air, as beautiful as a sea shell. Water seems to be very important to this person. Reminds me of that Aphrodite painting where she’s standing on an oyster. You’re like a goddess/god to them.

They think that you bring so much light and optimism in their life. That your sweetness is a welcomed relief in their chaotic life. They want to bask in the feeling of you. They think a lot of positive things because they idealize you. You’re like an angel to them. A creature so pure that they wish to keep to themselves but are also afraid to hurt. It’s like they think they’re a beast and you’re the beauty. However in their mind there would be no happy ending for the two of you.

Their actions - ace of pentacles, 4 of cups, 5 of wands, 4 of wands, 3 of cups, The Emperor, 3 of wands

This person is doing their best to pretend they don’t care. They look as calm, cool and collected as they possibly can. They want to look professional and disinterested. I’m getting specifically the message that this person hides behind their spouse/partner to avoid being in contact with you or try to convince you there’s nothing going on. So either they would send their partner to interact with you or they would invoke them in conversations. Also they could be showing off their engagement ring as a reminder.

Another thing this person does is that they are always making sure they’re not alone in your presence. So if they interact with you, it will mostly be when there’s important gatherings, especially when there are other people around that they know. This way, their conversation with you would look pretty natural and mundane, even to your eyes. It’s like they’re taking you in doses. They would juggle between times of no contact and contact.

Though they want to look disinterested they also want to look their best, just in case lmao So they would literally puff their chest to look bigger or play with their hair to draw attention on them. They would wear their best outfit or accessories, put themselves in positions of power to impress you. They would act like they’re the next hottest thing. Also they would try to be brave so maybe they would do risky things or like act like a savior around you. Especially if they notice you’re in need of help. They would be the first to nonchalantly offer their help and remind you that "though they’re super busy because of their numerous responsibilities, they would do their best to help you out should you ever be in need ". This person feels really old school lmao Also they seem like the type of person that watches too many unrealistic rom coms lmao (or porn)

Group 2

Their thoughts - 7 of cups, The World, 4 of pentacles, The Empress, 8 of pentacles, knight of swords, 9 of wands

Okay this person’s thoughts are pretty intense and quite horny / kinky. If I felt like writing their actual thoughts for group 1, here I feel like this would be a bit triggering in some way. So I’m gonna describe as best as I can and as respectfully as I can lmao To be completely honest, this person is a simp for you. They want to "drink from you". I’ll leave that to your imagination. They think that you are incredibly attractive and 100% their type. They want to possess you. But they don’t want to rush it. They like the thrill of the chase. They think that they want to lift you up and have you as they please, against the wall or on any surface they could find. They think that the world lies at your feet and that they would give you the world if you asked them to. They think that, being the absolute baddie that you are, you would have a fair amount of options. And that makes them uncomfortable. Because this person doesn’t like to share their "meal". They think that they should carefully plan how they’re going to approach and seduce you because they know you won’t be fooled. They know they have to be clean and clear if they wish to have you by their side. They think you’re feisty and in your power. You bow to no one and take no orders and this person would loooooove to be the only one to "tame" you. They think that you’re a freak in the sheets. That you would match their intensity. Their thoughts are mainly sexual. There isn’t much room for feelings in this person’s mind.

Their actions - The Tower, Ace of cups, Page of swords, page of wands, 8 of swords, 8 of pentacles, 7 of pentacles

This person acts very unpredictably. One day they’re super open and sociable, fun and patient. The other they’re an absolute asshole. It’s like they’re trying to confuse you so that you don’t know where they stand. They appear as immature. They constantly contradict themselves. Either their actions don’t follow their words or it’s like they don’t think things through and just act randomly. They are chaotic in the way they communicate and act. But most of the time they are defensive and put up barriers between the two of you. They’re the type of person that would purposefully ignore your messages, leave you on red and then pretend they didn’t see it because they were "too busy". They play hot and cold basically. As if being shady was the key to success.

This person would also try to provoke meetings with you by inventing problems or persuading people to interact with you so they can get you out of trouble. They would also surprise you in unexpected manners to keep you entertained. Like they would gather information about you from stalking your social media or interrogating people around you and then give you exactly what you needed as they pretend it is only a coincidence. Like "hey I just got this chocolate from someone but I’m sick so I can’t eat them, would you mind eating them? I don’t want to throw them away" when they’ve clearly spent at least a solid hour looking for your favorite chocolate on purpose.

Group 3

Their thoughts - The fool, knight of pentacles, 6 of pentacles, The Emperor, 7 of swords, page of swords

"They look so calm and peaceful, so carefree. I wonder how they can look so good and be so calm when all around them seems so chaotic. They look so tired sometimes and sad even. I wonder if they're okay. They're so put together. I'd like to get close to them but I feel like they wouldn't be open to it. I wish they weren't so uptight. Maybe we could be good friends. Or work together. They seem like a good person. They look like they've been through a lot though. They're so guarded. Aren't they hiding something? Are they really as they appear? I don't know if I can trust them. They're so strong. Even in the face of adversity, they stay true to themselves and kind to others. I admire them for that. It could be so easy to resent or hate people but this person is so genuine. They keep giving though people hurt them. I hope they can protect themselves and stand up for themselves. They don't deserve the hate they get."

Okay for some of you this person knows you from work or school. There are people around you that try to control you or bring you down. Especially, jealous people that want to give you a bad reputation because you don't follow their tracks. This could be true especially if you have a different vision of how work should be done or how people should be treated. They envy your energy and the attention you get. This person you're asking about has good intentions and a good opinion of you but they're confused as to why other people don't seem to see you like they do. They also have a hard time figuring you out. You impress them as much as you scare them. They could be your coworker or maybe a patron that frequently comes to your workplace and has seen your evolution. For others this can be a friend of yours or a family member. I don't get romantic feelings from this group but rather platonic ones. Now it doesn't mean that their opinion and feelings can't change/evolve. This person specifically admires your professional attitude, your strength and resilience. They admire your giving nature and your tendency to give people a chance instead of judging them at first sight.

Their actions - 10 of swords, 6 of pentacles, 4 of swords, knight of wands, Wheel of fortune, ace of pentacles

If this person may have appeared as cold and distant towards you at first, they got warmer as they got to know you and observe you. They like to watch you from a distance. They feel like they can have a more objective view of your essence if they're not involved directly. But at the end of the day, this person can't resist the pull. They had to get closer because they found your energy interesting. So at first, they would remain strictly professional. To the point where sometimes it would be as if they were a ghost. They would pretty much never interact unless it was really important. But most of the time they would remain hidden. But then the wheel turned because something made them take interest in you. Maybe it was something you did or something you said. For some I'm getting that they realised how important you were when you were gone. There was a period of time when you were the one that stopped communicating and it made them ponder about what you were up to and how you were doing. When you came back, this person started to act more friendly. They could have gotten you gifts or offered help, which they wouldn't have done before.

They acted differently for sure. More open to conversation, more present in your life, offering practical advice or helping you even before you asked. For some I'm getting the sense of someone leaving positive reviews or giving you extra cash, leaving littles notes on your desk to cheer you up. Trying to get the community around you to support you more by talking to other people about how nice of a person you are and changing the general opinion of you. For some this person would even take your defense in public without you being aware, trying to restore your honor. They feel more protective over you. Kind of like a surrogate dad or a mentor energy. When they got to see you, for some I'm getting the mental image of someone trying to uplift somebody else's spirit by shyly giving compliments in the disguise of a joke. Like for instance they would playfully comment your outfit but manage to tell you it looks good on you in the process. I felt the need to ask spirit for more information so I drew another card from the deck. You got The Star and The Devil. On the first card there's a female figure pouring water into a pond while she fondly looks at two cranes sitting nearby. There's a third crane in her back that she's not aware of. The other shows a feminine character with one blind eye and a mischievous look.

I'm getting several possibilities looking at this combination. One the one hand, it kinda confirms what I've been saying about this person protecting you and acting behind your back. As the Star card can be related to the Internet and the Devil card can represent naysayers/people with bad intentions, it shows that this person has been defending you online. I'm getting a scenario where a group of people is having a private conversation on any social platform where they talk baldly about you or make fun of you. And either this person has been calling these people out or they went as far as to threaten them of filing a complaint in your name. On the other hand, these two cards could be showing that this person is two faced. They may act kind and sweet in front of your face, but talk badly about you behind your back. Or, if they're not dissing you, at least they're playing the game to get favors out of you. For instance, they could be complimenting you a lot, hoping you'd forget something they did or said about you that hurt you.

#pick a card #pac reading #spiritual pac #just-a-ghost #tarot reading

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

I’d love to see you write James and reader who’ve suffered the ‘never the right time’ trope, and finally, it’s the right time. It’s like so soft and just a moment of peace, like ‘finally, finally, it’s our time’. I have literally no ideas further than that, but I know you’d kill this Mae <3

hope you’re having a lovely day!

Thanks for requesting my love! Also, is that a new theme I see?? It's giving me renaissance vibes, like the clouds are going to part and there'll be an oracle and it'll be you ! I'm so here for it

cw: alcohol

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

Sirius and Remus keep fighting over who gets to play the music. Sirius more pointedly, tracking Remus down every time he has to change the record, whereas Remus just sneaks over while his boyfriend is occupied to switch it out again. Now Fleetwood Mac’s come on, and James can only assume Lily has finally stationed herself by the record player.

A knock sounds at the door. Someone must have ordered pizza, he thinks. Anyone who goes to these things knows that Sirius always leaves the door unlocked. Being the closest to the door, James answers it.

He thinks he stops breathing when he finds you on the other side, clutching a dissolving paper bag in both hands and nearly wet through.

“Oh.” You look as surprised to see James as he is to see you. Which doesn’t seem strictly fair, because the last time he checked, he spends practically all of his time here and you live far away. Have since you took that cushy job right after school ended. “Hi, James.”

“Hi.” His voice is mystified, tinged with the joy of the smile he can’t repress. “What’re you doing here, sweetheart?”

“Remus invited me.”

James stares at you. You look somehow exactly the same and yet impossibly more beautiful than he remembers. It’s odd seeing you out of your old school uniform, in a very adult-like coat that comes down to your knees and ties primly at the waist. Your hair is slicked straight by the rain, stuck in damp tendrils to your shoulders, and he swears your face has changed, too, a droplet of rainwater curving over a cheekbone he doesn’t remember being as visible when you were younger.

“Um, can I come in?”

“Yes! Yeah.” He steps out of the doorway, and your shoes squelch slightly as you wipe them off on the rug inside the door. James looks around as if for help. He thinks he spots Remus’ head poking out of the kitchen, but then it disappears. “Here, let me take your coat.”

“Thanks.” You undo the tie for yourself, letting James pull it off your arms. “It’s really good to see you.”

“You too.” He’s beaming; he can’t stop. “God, I just can’t believe you’re here. Are you in town for a visit?”

“No, I—” You pause to give him a bemused sort of smile. “Did Remus not tell you? I moved back.”

James feels like his chest has been hollowed out. Like someone’s taken out his heart and put the sun back in its place.

“Really?” It comes out more breath than word. He fumbles for his voice back. “You’re back for good?” You nod, biting down on a smile. “When did you get here?”

“A couple weeks ago,” you say, looking down to step out of your shoes.

“What?” James’ tone is doing nothing to disguise his astonishment. He’s in no state to try and conceal it. “And we’re not hearing from you until now? You’ve only spoken to Remus?” His hurt goes unvoiced: Why didn’t you come find me?

You look sheepish. “I just ran into him at the store yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I didn’t want to assume…”

You look like you’re trying to shrink away, but James gives chase, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. The cold of your clothes and hair sinks into him, and you both shiver. He only holds you tighter for it, scrubbing a hand up and down your shoulder blade.

“You should have called,” he says next to your ear. “You know we’ll always want you here, love. We’ve missed you.” I’ve missed you.

“I missed you guys, too,” you reply, squeezing him back. The paper bag you’re holding digs into his spine.

James gives himself a couple more seconds before he releases you, taking the bag and unearthing a bottle of wine.

“Nice of you,” he acknowledges. “Sirius will appreciate it, he loves reds. We should get you warmed up, yeah? Do you want some of this, or I could make you a hot buttered rum?”

You look like you could melt in relief. “A hot drink sounds amazing.”

“Great.” He grins at you, knowing you have to go but unwilling to let you. If you leave his sight now you might very well disappear for another several years. After a second, his better sense wins and he juts a chin towards the stairs. “Go find something to wear. It’s the last door on the left, and the closet across from the bed should have things that’ll fit you.”

James sees your protests in your face before they start spewing from your mouth. “Oh, I shouldn’t—”

“If you go into the kitchen all dripping wet, Remus will only bring you up there himself. Save yourself the time, love. He’d want you to help yourself, trust me.”

You chew your lip, hesitant, but then another shiver takes you, and James gives you a good-natured shove towards the stairs.

“Alright,” you capitulate, going. “Thanks, I’ll be right back.”

“No hurry,” he calls up after you. Then high-tails it for the kitchen.

“I cannot believe you’ve set me up for ambush like this,” he says as the door swings open for him. His two closest friends look up with expressions of equal guilelessness, though Sirius is putting on far more a show of surprise than his boyfriend.

“I had no idea!” He insists while James stalks to the cabinet, helping himself to a mug and the supplies to make your drink. “Moony kept it from me, you know I’d have told you if I knew.”

James glances up at him, then shakes his head, reaching over to flick the kettle on. “No, I don’t believe it. You’ve both been colluding against me.”

“It’s only against you if it’s not good for you,” says Remus. “And I don’t see how y/n being here is all that bad for you.”

“Yeah, I’d have thought you’d be fairly chuffed about it,” Sirius agrees, forgoing the innocent act as smirk curves his lips.

“I am.” James blows out a breath. “I just wasn’t expecting to see her. I didn’t even know she’d moved back.”

Remus shrugs, cracking open the oven to check on something inside. “Well, I think she might have been afraid to seek you out.”

“Why would she be?”

Amber eyes meet James’ with disbelief written all over them. “You know why,” he says softly.

The kettle finishes boiling, and James turns to pour it over the contents of your mug. “Well, I directed her to Sirius’ closet as retribution.”

He hears a gasp behind him. “You prick—”

The door to the kitchen swishes open, and you breeze in wearing one of Sirius’ hoodies.

“Sirius!”

“Hi!” He’s all smiles as he folds you into a hug, glaring sharply at James over your shoulder. “Fuck, haven’t you become stunning? It’s been awhile, gorgeous.”

“It has,” you agree, looking slightly flustered by Sirius’ complimenting. Which, James notes, is an improvement over your school days; you were never able to weather it then. “It’s so good to see you.”

You go to Remus next, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders fondly. “Glad you could come,” he says.

“Thanks for having me.” Your eyes move between the three of them, seeming to note their placement throughout the kitchen. “Sorry, were you all busy talking about something?”

“Actually,” Sirius says, “Remus and I were just canoodling when James interrupted, quite rudely I think. If you’re going to join the party, please take him with you.”

“Alright.” James takes your drink and grabs a cider for himself, nudging you towards the door. “No need to be a dick, just come find us later.”

Sirius winks at you both as James ushers you out, Remus sending him a long-suffering look from by the oven.

“Nice to know some things don’t change,” you laugh, finding a space on the couch for you both.

“Yeah,” James sets your drink down in front of you, “I doubt those two ever will.”

“Thanks. Ooh, this is nice.” You take the clear mug between your hands, lifting it up to admire the liquid inside. “When did Remus get so posh?”

“Well, Sirius lives here now.”

“Oh!” Your eyes widen, surprise and maybe a little of something else. “Wow, that’s so lovely for them. Then, is this Sirius’ sweatshirt I’m wearing?”

James chuckles. “You could tell, huh?”

“None of those looked like Remus’ clothes. Are we punishing him for something?”

He raises his own drink to his lips, hiding his smile. They’ve always come especially easily around you. “Perhaps.”

You hum, take a sip from your mug, and hum again. “Shit, this is really good. Thank you.”

The praise settles comfortably in James’ stomach, as warm and mind-fuzzing as if he’s had a gulp of your drink himself. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

This time, he notices your eyes flicker away from his at the endearment. “So,” you say conversationally, “how’s Lily?”

Ouch. James glances behind you to where Lily has pulled a chair over near the record player. She’s sipping from a glass of red wine that’s only a couple of shades darker than her hair, smiling at something Pandora’s saying.

“She’s good,” he says. Then, somewhat abruptly, “We’re not together anymore.”

Your eyes flit to his, something almost like guilt twinging across your features. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” you say. The caring in your face is nearly too much; James wants to take it between his hands and kiss it all over. “Are you okay?”

He gives you a smile. “Yeah,” he says sincerely. Perhaps with too much feeling, because your eyebrows bunch slightly. “It happened a long time ago. Not long after you left, actually.”

“Oh.” You nod, and James finds himself watching you more carefully than he normally might. He waits for the sense of bliss he’s feeling to find its way into your expression, but you still appear hesitant. “Can I ask if something happened? You just, you were together for so long…”

It’s true. Most people they knew, even Remus and Sirius, thought Lily and James would be married someday. In the end, it just seemed that they’d been together for so long that their relationship had become a routine instead of a choice. They were cohabitors more than partners, and when they were doing everything they could to spend time away from their shared home, Lily had been the only one brave enough to call them both out on it.

“We just wanted different things,” James says. Namely, Lily wanted Mary and James wanted you. Had for too many years.

You make a soft sound. “I suppose that’s how it goes, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “So, come on—you’ve had my update, let’s have yours. How did you like your job?”

You pair your shrug with a small smile. “Not very well, honestly. I don’t think I really fit there.” James tsks sorrily, and you shrug again. “It’s just as well. I missed you all too much. I wanted to give it a try there and I did, but I’m glad to be back.”

“Ah, well,” James says. “I suppose that’s how it goes, isn’t it?”

It’s a terrible joke, but you laugh, the sound like water trickling over stone. He feels the smile spread on his face.

“I really have missed you,” he says, earnestness aching in the back of his throat.

A similar sentiment reflects back at him in your eyes. “Same here.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I am, too.”

“Would you want to get coffee tomorrow?” With anyone else the invitation would seem abrupt, but your smile looks something like relief. You’ve both been waiting for this for too long.

“That sounds nice,” you say.

“Great.” James can hear the love in his own voice. It’s probably written all over his face, too. Just as well. “There’s a new cafe by my place that has really good almond croissants, would you want to meet there?”

You nod, not trying to downplay your happiness. His heart swells to see it. “I love almond croissants,” you say.

James remembers. It’s one of the things he’s glad to know about you. There was a small, censured part of him that took satisfaction in knowing those things even when he was with Lily. It’s not something he’s ever been proud of, but a spark of that satisfaction comes back now.

“Perfect,” he replies. Behind you, Remus is letting Sirius pull him out of the kitchen. Remus folds himself into an unoccupied chair, where Sirius happily sprawls across his lap. They’re both pretending not to be watching you. “How’s one?”

“Not soon enough,” you say without hesitation. You take another sip of your drink, miming unconcern, but your eyes are playful. “Ten?”

James feels like his face could split in half. “Ten it is.”

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obeymelucigirlie · 1 month

Text

A pact with Lucifer

Obey Me

Pairing: Lucifer x f!mc (reader)

Content warning: Explicit (NSFW/ Smut)

Summary: Lucifer agrees to make a pact with you in lesson 20... and takes you to his room to make you his.

You hear the faint sound of jazz from the cursed record wafting from the study.

Lucifer.

He’s the only one who hasn’t shown up at your impromptu farewell party. Your chest tightens with a pang of sudden sadness. Your last night in this crazy world. With these silly, loveable brothers who have changed your life for the better. If only you could stay…

You should rejoin the others. They’ll worry, come looking if you take too long. Mammon will freak out and call for a search party. But still, you feel an urge to check in on Lucifer.

You knock softly.

“Come on in.”

Lucifer is seated in his favorite chair, a glass of demonus in hand, eyes closed, enjoying the soft melody.

“It sounds like quite the party up in the attic. Since everyone else is busy up there, I get to enjoy my music in peace. Come, join me for a while.”

You take the other seat by the fireplace, enjoying his calming presence. Such a drastic change from the boisterous party roaring a few stories above.

He finally glances your way.

“Have you completed all that you set out to do here in the Devildom? No unfinished business? Loose ends?”

You consider him, then. This proud, detached man. The hardest to read of the seven brothers. He’s kept his walls up all year. How does he feel about you? Will he miss you at all?

You know you’ll miss him, perhaps most out of all of them…

You gather your courage and bring up the topic that’s been eating at you these past few days.

“Well, I still haven’t made a pact with you.”

Lucifer sits up in his chair, giving you a cold, calculating look.

“A pact, you say? I see. You’ve made pacts with all my brothers, which just leaves me…”

He stands up and stalks close to your chair, gazing down at you with his severe, crimson eyes.

“Do you really want to make a pact with me? Truly? I don’t know how my brothers felt about their decisions, but I am more than a name to be crossed from your list. I can’t have you lumping me together with everyone else. That won’t do.”

Lucifer transforms into his demonic form, looming over you menacingly. You gaze up at him, standing your ground. You’ve seen this side of him too often now to be frightened. Deep down, you know he won’t hurt you.

“You aren’t going to run? You’ve certainly got guts, don’t you? I’ve always found that aspect of you both irritating and endearing. Now, listen, and listen well. I will not be your possession. I won’t belong to you. You will belong to me. So, what will it be? Will you make a pact with me?”

Your breath catches at the sudden change in his tone, the possessiveness. You’ve never seen this side of him before.

He gazes down at you in his demonic form, his look both terrifying and heated.

You bite your lip, pondering. You’ve been dying to make a pact with him, make him yours, all year. Now this turn of events.

Lucifer wanting to make you his.

“Yes, I’ll make a pact with you.”

“… Good. Then it’s done. As of this moment, you are mine.”

You feel a sudden, intense connection with the demon. The turmoil of repressed emotions within him. His affection towards you, which he's tried to fight for so long. An intense desire. He wants you, needs you.

He must be sensing your emotions too, as his lips curl into a knowing smirk. He tilts his head, assessing.

“Does that takes care of all your loose ends?”

You return the smirk, slowly rising from the chair to stand face to face with the demon.

“There’s still one more.”

“Is there now?”

You place your hands on his warm chest and rise on your toes, tenderly kissing him. His lips are so soft, so inviting. He wraps his strong arms around you, returning the kiss with a wild passion.

“I’ve always known you wanted to do this. And I know what you’d like to do next as well.”

The demon smirks in-between his fiery kisses, a heated, hungry look in his crimson eyes.

“We’re heading straight to my room." He kisses you ravenously. 'You’re going to spend your last night in the Devildom with me…"

Lucifer trails wet kisses down your neck, sucking gently, whispering in his husky, gravely voice," all night long, until the break of dawn."

A shiver runs down your spine.

He kisses along your collarbone, "I’m not letting anyone else have you now… You’re mine.”

Your eyes go wide, you can't prevent a small moan from escaping as his words strike you to your core. You want - no, you need him to make you his.

He doesn't wait on a response. You agreed to the pact after all. And you know he can feel your desire. He relishes it. That you chose him out of his brothers, to spend your last night in the devildom in his arms.

Lucifer gathers you in his arms and strides across the hallway into his spacious room.

The moment the door closes he’s on you, all wild with want, pulling at your clothes, not caring as he tears at the clasps and buttons in his pressing need to feel your naked skin against his.

Lucifer captures your mouth in a heated kiss, grasping your hips, pulling you flush against his arousal, his hands exploring, caressing, squeezing. Needing to feel all of you. Now.

You moan as heat pools within your belly, his scent, caresses, his powerful body driving you mad with desire. You pull at his clothes, and he helps you, peeling his shirt off and unbuckling his pants as he pulls you towards the bed.

Once he’s naked in front of you, you pull back, taking him in. He’s beautiful. All chiseled, perfect, angelic beauty. And so very hard for you. You trail your fingertips along his chest, feeling his muscles tense under your touch, enjoying his reaction as you slowly move down, stroking his cock.

“Hmm… that’s it, yes… this feels so good.”

Lucifer coos, caressing your face, biting his lips at the intense pleasure.

You smirk and kneel before the demon, daintily placing your lips around his cock. He’s so big, so thick, but you want to please him, so you open wider, working through your gag reflex. His eyes go wide as you take him in, slowly, letting him feel your lips sliding around him, every swirl of your tongue. He moans and threads his hands into your hair, pulling, tugging lightly, begging you to take more of him, coaxing, all desperate need now.

“Oh, yes, just like that… hmm you take it so good my little lamb.”

He hums and coos, caressing your cheek, your hair whenever you choke slightly as he hits the back of your throat. You pick up the pace, relishing in his moans and encouragements.

It turns you on, seeing him like this, the avatar of pride, undone, at your mercy. Only for you. Only in the confines of your shared intimacy.

“I’m… I’m gonna…”

And he comes undone, grabbing the back of your head roughly as he fully sheathes his thick cock in your mouth, calling out your name, spurting deep down your throat. You do your best to swallow every last drop of his salty seed, licking your lips as you gaze up at him under your lashes.

Lucifer looks down upon your puffy, tear-stained face. He smiles tenderly, trailing a finger along your swollen lips.

“Hmm… now that was delightful.”

“Glad I could please you.”

You smirk, wiping at your eyes as Lucifer pulls you onto the bed and covers you with his weight, his intense heat. You desperately grab onto his neck, his hair, tugging, pulling, needing his soft lips on yours. He growls as he kisses you deeply, moaning as he tastes himself on your tongue.

He caresses you, running his hands and mouth, his hot tongue along your body, taking his time to pleasure you, delighting in the sighs and moans he elicits as he maps out your body, committing it to memory. Finding all the spots that drive you crazy. Make you cry out to him. He drives you insane as he kisses and sucks, leaving marks all over you, making sure you – and everyone else – knows you are his.

“Lucifer, please…”

“Please what?” He asks huskily, grinding against your heat in a delicious torture.

“I need you.”

You moan, grabbing at his silky raven hair, to gaze into his eyes, burning with desire.

“You’re so impatient. I did tell you we had until the break of dawn.”

He smirks, pressing his throbbing cock against you, rubbing himself against your clit, teasing, pressing the tip inside your slick folds in a tortuous caress.

“Lucifer… stop teasing…”

You growl as he captures your lips in a ravenous kiss.

“I will do as I please with you, my impatient little lamb… Remember...”

There’s a dangerous glint in his crimson eyes as he enters you, sharply.

“… you’re mine.”

You gasp at the sudden sensation of fullness, as your body struggles to adjust to him. He starts a wild rhythm, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you over and over, his cock stretching you almost painfully. But it feels so, so good. You pant and moan as your body overheats, every cell in your body responding to his every touch, his ravenous kisses. His forceful thrusts deep into your core.

You urge him on, biting down onto his shoulder and earning a satisfying groan. He kisses you demandingly. The rougher he gets, the more intense your desire. He moves sharply and quickly. Every movement perfectly designed to drive you wild with pleasure. You moan loudly into his lips.

“Lucifer…”

You are completely and wholly lost to the demon as he possesses your body with a wild abandon. Tethering on the edge of pain and pleasure. You feel yourself coming undone, Lucifer’s powerful thrusts pushing you into the mattress, dominating you so completely. Your bodies, slick with sweat, connecting so perfectly.

Lucifer feels your desperation.

He smirks as he whispers in your ear: “That’s it, come undone for me.”

“Lucifer…”

You moan loudly as you careen into a delicious state of bliss, your body shaking uncontrollably. You grab onto his strong body, trying desperately to stay grounded in reality. You can feel him finally letting go, thrusting deep into your core with a strangled groan of his own.

“Hmm…. That was…”

The demon gives you a cocky grin, “I know.”

Lucifer pulls you into his arms, kissing you lightly.

"You did good my little lamb." He coos, gently removing sticky, sweaty strands of hair from your forehead.

You smile a tired, satisfied grin as you try to catch your breath.

His hands trail down your back in light caresses as he lets you recover from the mind-blowing orgasm. You sigh with pleasure as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

His hands slowly wander further south, and you moan as he caresses your overly sensitive, overstimulated clit. You gasp as he slips one finger, then two, into your slick folds.

“Lucifer!”

“What part of until dawn haven’t you understood yet?”

He smiles devilishly as he replaces his fingers with his already throbbing cock.

Comments & reblogs appreciated 💛

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stayinlimbo · 8 months

Text

the world is ending (but i'm happy you're here with me)

pairing: lee minho x f!reader genre: established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort warnings: one (1) swear, mc is mentioned to have longer hair at one point, slightly unedited, lowercase intended word count: 1.07k note: i had a lot of fun writing this, so i hope you enjoy it too ♡

there comes a time in every girl’s life where the overwhelming urge to change her physical appearance eclipses all sensible and rational thought. as it turns out, you’re no exception.

“you’re going to laugh.”

“no i’m not.”

“you already are,” you deadpan, frowning at minho’s pitiful attempts to repress the growing smile quirking at his lips. your boyfriend has the audacity to chuckle at your words, pushing himself off the couch and gliding towards your stiff figure standing at the entrance of the living room.

“you can’t blame me, you look so cute and adorable right now,” he defends. an arm snakes around your shoulders and you relax slightly at his touch, wrapping your arms around his middle. “besides, it can’t be that bad—at least, not enough for you to have to hide from me.”

minho pulls you further into the warmth of his chest, the tender embrace sending a small shiver down your spine. his lips meet the side of your hooded head in a firm kiss, the extra pressure ensuring you would feel the loving gesture. the usual trail of kisses towards your forehead and cheeks is blocked, currently concealed by your (his) hoodie’s drawstrings working overtime to reveal only a small oval of skin.

the hood’s bunched fabric frames the top of your eyes and lips. you can barely see in front of you until one of minho’s fingers slips into the opening to try and take a peek at what’s covered inside.

minho is being nice; you look ridiculous.

and it’s your fault really. you should have known you couldn't escape your misfortunes that easily.

work for the past month has been hell: the road-closure of the usual route you’d take, tacking on an additional fifteen minutes to your commute. the early mornings you have to endure to clock-in on time. the “important” group project your boss delegated around the office. the unpaid overtime for said project. the same petty, passive-aggressive coworkers breathing down your neck and critiquing your every move because you made a mistake once—all casting insurmountable pressure on your already exhausted state.

you finally snapped when someone callously stole the lunch minho had prepared for you from the breakroom’s fridge.

you suppose now it was your brain’s attempt to regain some sort of control over the strenuous situation, but the impulse to cut your hair, try a new style, start fresh with your appearance bombarded every thought on the journey home. call it an impulsive thought, an intrusive thought, whatever—you needed to do something.

too bad the hair stylist couldn’t follow directions for shit.

“minho, i’m serious,” you whine, burying your face further into his chest. suffocating in the arms of the man you love doesn’t sound like such a bad idea right now. “she ruined my hair. how am i supposed to go out in public like this?”

“i can’t tell you if you haven’t even shown me yet. i’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” he muses, chuckling at the vibrations tickling his torso from the muffled groan you release.

minho starts to sway the two of you back and forth at your silence. the rhythmic movement cradles you in a comforting hold, temporarily soothing your spiraling thoughts. he’s right; you’re going to have to show him at some point. might as well just get it over with now.

a defeated sigh escapes you. well, here goes nothing.

you step out of minho’s arms and pry the hood off to reveal your botched hair in all its glory.

uneven bangs, a completely different color than from when you left for work this morning, fall into your face and cover the top of your eyes. you can’t see yourself but judging from minho’s small hiss and surprised, contorted face, it’s not pretty.

and it’s not like you asked for anything outlandish: a standard cut and a new style of bangs was your definition of revamping your appearance. so when the stylist cut off a majority of your hair, it took everything within you to not immediately burst into tears as the salon’s floor and your lap splayed the once lengthy remains.

you don’t even know where she got the idea of bleaching your hair. now your wallet and soul are emptier than ever and there is nothing you can do except hope minho doesn’t ask you to turn around because the layers are downright atrocious.

“so? what do you think?” a wobbly smile makes its way onto your face. “not what you were expecting, right?”

you can’t help the tears welling into your eyes at his silence. he’s just…staring. certainly this can’t be the dealbreaker, right?

…right?

you’re saved from your inner turmoil when minho moves forward to carefully bring you back into his arms. the tears finally spill down your cheeks and onto his shirt, the comforting scent of minho flooding your senses once again. if you could hide here forever, you would.

“it’ll grow back.”

“i know.”

“you still look sexy.” he pinches your side, coaxing a watery laugh from you. his smile is infectious, and you can’t help but tearfully look up at him with one of your own.

you playfully guide one of his hands towards the back of your damaged hair, leaving it there. “so you’re not breaking up with me over this?” you tease, resting your head back against his chest. you don’t notice the subtle shift in your boyfriend’s gaze until he softly calls your name.

“i would love you even if you were bald,” he confesses quietly, squeezing you tighter to him.

you can’t help but snort into his chest. “yeah?”

“yeah. i will love you now until it’s long again. i will love you with any hair cut, color, style, anything. even if you hate it or one day regret it, my love for you won’t change,” minho assures, his sincerity echoing in his words.

“so if i dyed my hair pink tomorrow, you’d be okay with it?”

“do what you want, whenever you want.”

because it doesn’t matter to him what you do with your hair. you’re still you, his beautiful and resilient (and sexy) girlfriend. even as his hands run through the chopped, disproportionate strands on the back of your head, he finds you more and more enchanting with each passing day.

“i will be here for you. always.”

✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺

(“i still have to go to work.”

“just wear a hat.”)

────────────────────────────────────────────

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

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cookinguptales · 1 year

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So… I’ve been turning all this over in my head since last night, and I wanted to make a post about vampiric transformation as sex, and how it’s being used in wwdits as a metaphor for sexual repression, sexual freedom, virginity, and cuckolding.

Before I even get into the obvious metaphors about virginity and cuckolding, I think we need to talk about the elephant in the room. Guillermo’s sexual repression and how that’s come to find an outlet in his vampiric longing.

Guillermo is highly repressed, sexually speaking, but I don’t think he’s asexual. He’s shown interest in sex several times, but in an uncomfortable “this can’t be for me yet” kind of way. He was clearly raised Catholic and has internalized a lot of that shame re: sex, especially gay sex. He wants intimacy, but he’s also internalized the idea that wanting these things is dangerous and shameful.

But… the vampiric world seems to symbolize all the things that Guillermo wants but cannot have. He wants to be strong, powerful, attractive, and sexually liberated. As much as their openness about sex embarrasses him, there’s a certain longing there, too. He didn’t just want to be handsome as a vampire — he explicitly used the word “sexy.”

A vampiric Guillermo is a version of Guillermo that gets to have sex. Loudly, proudly, and without shame. It’s a version of him that is wanted, that wants, and who gets to have the precise kind of intimacy he's always craved.

Now, how much Guillermo has actually done sexually is still up for a lot of debate in fandom, but I think that’s kind of immaterial. For most of the show, Guillermo clearly wasn’t having the kind of intimacy that he wanted to be having, and he only started to even begin to allow himself to seriously consider all that in s4, when he got a boyfriend and came out to his family.

As being gay and wanting to be a vampire.

Guillermo is finally starting to own both his homosexuality and his vampiric life, and that means he’s finally starting to explore sex.

Now… At the end of s4, I talked about how Guillermo going to Derek in the finale had the air of a person who’d been fantasizing about losing their virginity in a certain way all their life — but then they finally give up on those dreams and hire a sex worker instead. There’s a resignation there in Guillermo that he couldn’t get it “the old-fashioned way,” he’s disappointed and jaded when it comes to intimate relationships, and now he’s tired of waiting for love and just wants a business transaction.

I wasn’t quite expecting for them to push that metaphor even more in s5! The money aspect was almost forgotten (Did… Derek even take the money? Why is he still cleaning toilets?) but the scene with Derek biting Guillermo was clearly a metaphorical virginity scene.

Guillermo’s nervous eagerness, his growing realization that this wasn’t actually the way he wanted it to happen. Asking Derek if he’d ever done this before and figuring out if he was “ready.” Taking off his clothes (that his grandmother got for him, even, that’s a whole meta post right THERE) and trying to make the vibe “right.” His insistence that though Nandor had never done this for him, they still had a caring and intimate relationship.

But… it was also a metaphor for bad sex. Many people lose their virginity in a way they don’t find satisfying, and Guillermo definitely seems to fall in this category. It was awkward, it was bloody, it hurt, his partner didn’t listen to him, they weren’t on the same wavelength, they didn’t connect, there was no emotional bond, and most importantly, he didn’t feel changed.

Like a lot of people do, Guillermo thought losing his virginity would change him. He’d be cooler, sexier, more powerful. His station in life would change. He’d become an adult his ideal form. But he’s still just Guillermo.

As he told Laszlo, as soon as he did it, he regretted it. He immediately knew that he’d been right, that this wasn’t the way he wanted to do it. He wanted to do it with someone experienced who loved and cared about him, who listened to him, and he wanted that person to be Nandor. But he wasn’t patient, he paid an inexperienced acquaintance for a one-night-stand instead, and he was left feeling deeply unfulfilled.

Most upsettingly, he immediately discovered that, like virginity, you can’t lose it twice. He can’t just have a do-over with Nandor now. He’s given something up that he can’t give to anyone else, and he’s going to have to live with the consequences.

Because like sex for humans, transformation has social implications in the vampire world. It can only be done in very specific situations. Guillermo seems to have grown up in a human world where sex should only be happening within a heterosexual marriage, and now he’s finding that in the vampire world, transformation is only supposed to happen between a master and familiar currently in a contractual bond.

So… him going to Derek and finding “outlet” in another relationship, so to speak, is effectively vampirically cuckolding Nandor. He’s given that honor to another vampire, which Nandor seems to find both vampirically humiliating and personally hurtful. It would in fact hurt him so badly that he would probably not survive it, in Laszlo’s words.

(There’s also definitely an element of an abusive “if I can’t have you, no one can” vibe in Nandor’s threat to kill Guillermo and then himself if Guillermo got what he needed from another vampire, but since when have we ever liked them well-adjusted?)

Guillermo is realizing that, as much as he’s been thinking of this in sexual terms, so have the vampires. He thought he was the only one who thought it was a big deal. He thought he was the only one placing intimacy and partnership and loyalty into this event. But now he’s realizing that as much as it meant to him, it might have even been a bigger thing for Nandor.

For Guillermo, vampirism-as-sex represents the idealized transformational aspects of losing your virginity. He’d built up this big event in his mind that represented his intimate bond with Nandor, he’d built up this idea that the event would change him, would make him better, would make him free. But he’s finding, like many first-timers do, that sometimes it’s not transformational. It’s just awkward and disappointing and the only thing that’s changed is that you ache in the morning.

He still doesn’t have the intimacy he wanted. He still doesn’t have the ability to be loudly himself. He still hasn’t been able to fully own his sexuality and ask for what he wants. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t enjoy it. He regrets it.

He also regrets it because now he knows it will hurt Nandor and the relationship they’ve built. Because for Nandor, vampirism-as-sex represents the societal aspects of sex. The rules people follow. The societal humiliation you feel if you’re cuckolded. The personal agony you feel when you’re cheated on. The sense that your home is broken if your partner goes to find satisfaction with someone else.

Guillermo, who has had to deal with societal disapproval of his desired type of sex in the human world his whole life, was viewing vampiric transformation as a way to be free of all that. The shame and the repression and the societal penalties for being himself.

But he’s just found himself in a mess of new rules, hasn’t he? Different culture, same struggle. And while the vampiric world has always symbolized a sexual liberation that both repulses and attracts Guillermo, he clearly doesn’t have as much freedom here as he thought.

So… to sum up, Guillermo always kind of thought of transformation as losing his virginity. He associated vampirism with sex, and he thought this would be his entrance into the sexual world. He wanted to have an intimate experience with Nandor, but eventually gave up on that and decided to pay for it — and then immediately regretted it, both because he found it personally dissatisfying and because it came as a betrayal to the man he loves.

The problem is that he thought he was the only person thinking of it as sex — he didn’t realize that Nandor does, too, just in a very different way.

Nandor was also thinking of vampiric transformation as this special act, and one that belongs only to him as Guillermo’s master/partner. He was thinking of it in intimate terms, but also in societal partnership terms. He’s thinking of his household, while Guillermo was thinking of things on more individualistic terms.

If only they’d both talked about all this shit even once. :’)

But that’s not how we do things here in Staten Island!!! We just long for things ineffectively, keep secrets, and fuck everything up!

(There’s also a whole thing here about how Nandor wasn’t keeping his side of the relationship bargain and that’s why Guillermo looked elsewhere in a moment of weakness, but I guess that’s probably a separate post. This is long enough already.)

#I could talk about this so much more but this post is so long lmao #well guillermo you can never give nandor your first time but that doesn't mean you can't still build a relationship with him #more important for a guy to have your future than your past right?#lmao we'll see #nandermo #wwdits #wwdits meta #long post #wwdits spoilers

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 months

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Every Fucking Time

Summary: You want to help Dean, but he knows you can't.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Lots of angst! Smut! Unprotected PinV sex. Slightly rough sex. Dean being an asshole. Dean being a broken boy. Hurt/comfort.

Pairings: Dean x Reader (You)

Word Count: 2,737

A/N: So, I just rewatched 13x18, Bring 'Em Back Alive, and the scene at the end never fails to break my heart. I just wanna make Dean feel better! 😫 But it got me thinking about how unlikely Dean would be to accept that help, and how his anger might manifest. Anyway, this is what spilled out of my brain as a result.

A/N 2: The title is a reference to Dean's line, "Every time we get close, it all falls apart. Every frickin' time." I have changed it to the non-network TV version because we all KNOW that's actually what Dean said.

You just wanted to help. You needed to help. You needed to make it better for him.

Dean had slipped back home through the rift barely an hour earlier, talking about the apocalypse world Charlie and how he'd left her and Ketch behind, promising he would come back with reinforcements.

Then you, Cas and Sam had given him the bad news; no one could go back, you couldn’t send reinforcements. Gabriel was gone, taking all his archangel grace with him.

“So if it’s gone, then that means that we can’t open that door again. If we can’t open the door, then I shoulda never come back!” He'd shouted.

He'd tried to tamp down the rage and anger that simmered just behind his forced calm. Nevertheless, it exploded out of him making you all jump.

“Son of a bitch!” He'd screamed, sending books and papers crashing to the ground as he swept them from the table. “Every time!”

You could feel his frustration and pain like it was your own as his voice dropped, defeated and broken for the millionth time. “Every time we get close, it always falls apart…every fuckin’ time.”

When he walked away, looking as though the weight of the world was once again on his shoulders, you’d tried to follow after him, but Sam had grabbed your arm gently, holding you back.

“Leave him for now, Y/N. He needs time.”

You should have listened to Sam, but you could feel Dean’s pain like a lance in your side and you were desperate to heal him. So less than an hour later, you went looking for him. But he wasn’t in his room, or the Dean cave. The kitchen was empty and so was the garage.

You finally found him in the infirmary. He was sitting on one of the beds, sewing together a nasty looking bullet wound.

“Dean!” You called out worriedly as you rushed down the steps. He glanced up at you but then went back to stitching himself up. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d been shot?” You reprimanded him.

He shrugged his unwounded shoulder. “No big deal. Ketch patched me up on the go, just didn’t have time to sew it up properly.”

You watched him silently for a moment, wincing every time the needle pierced his inflamed skin. He’d taken his shirt off so he could tend to his wound, and you couldn’t help but take an inventory of his other numerous scars. Jagged knife cuts, more round bullet holes, and a few waxy looking old burns, all marred his otherwise perfect, lightly freckled torso.

Some of the scars were very faded, barely noticeable, while others were newer; some of them were still red and angry looking. They were a patchwork of pain - a tapestry of more than thirty-five years of hunting, fighting, falling, getting up, and fighting again.

It made you exhausted just to see it; it made your bones ache.

You stepped a little closer to him, but he kept you at arm’s length with an aura of silent, repressed anger that you could practically see pulsing off of him.

You wanted to help him so badly.

“Dean, I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, not looking up from his work. “No, let’s not. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

You let out a small sigh. Of course you don’t. You thought with a flash of frustration.

You were quiet another minute as he finished the last few stitches. Then you smiled a little, trying a different tactic. “So, there was a Charlie over there? That’s amazing. What was she like? Was she the same as our Charlie?”

Dean didn’t answer right away. He snipped the thread he was using and tossed the small silver scissors back into the first aid kit he had open on the bed beside him. He took some rubbing alcohol and poured it onto a gauze pad, holding it to his wound and sucking in a breath through gritted teeth before answering.

“Yeah sure, she was like our Charlie.” His voice was a growl of pain. “She was a badass, determined to fight injustice, sticking up for her friends, risking her life for them. And yeah, just like our Charlie, I left her on her own to be butchered.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “Dean that’s not true…you didn’t-”

“Seriously, Y/N. Just fucking don’t.”

You were silenced again, watching him clean up and toss the bloody bandages into the trash as he stood up from the bed. He reached for his flannel and tried to put it on, slightly hampered by his newly bandaged shoulder. You stepped forward to help him with it, and when it was on, but still unbuttoned, you slid your hands inside, down over his ribs.

You kissed his chest gently, and felt him twitch slightly.

“Y/N.” He said quietly and you could hear the warning in his tone.

You knew he was in a bad place, and the two of you had only recently begun to move your relationship out of friendship and into something more, so sex was still new between you. But you felt the overwhelming, screaming need to help him, to hold him close and let him feel your love shine through. You’d been in love with him for a long time, but you’d never told him. You suspected he didn’t love you back, though you hoped he might someday.

For now, though, you’d settle for being a soft place to land, if he’d just let you.

“Dean.” You said softly, kissing his chest again. “Let me help you.”

He pushed you back and turned away. “I don’t need help.”

You persisted, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “We all need help from time to time, Dean.”

“Y/N!” He said again, louder this time, his earlier anger resurfacing. “I told you, I’m fine. Just drop it.”

But you couldn’t. You wanted to help him, whether he accepted it or not.

You moved around him, so you stood in front of him again. “Dean, you’re not fine. I just wanna help you.”

Dean scoffed. “Well you can’t fucking help me, Y/N. You can’t make it better.”

“I could try.” You cupped his cheek, but he pulled it out of your grasp, turning his head. You stood on tiptoe to try and kiss him. “Let me try, Dean. Let me try to help you.”

Dean grabbed your wrists from around his neck, glaring down at you, eyes blazing. “You fucking can’t, do you not hear me? You can’t help me, no one can help me! Because all I do is fuck up; all I do is leave my friends and family to die. And fucking you isn’t gonna change that; unless you have some kind of magical cunt that can open portals to another dimension, you can’t fucking help me!”

You felt your stomach drop, and an immediate ache started, high in your gut, clenching your insides and making you feel short of breath. You stepped back from Dean and swallowed convulsively, trying not to let go of the tears that clogged your throat. But it was a losing battle and they were soon coursing down your cheeks.

You nodded slightly. “K, yeah.” You didn’t know what else to say, turning away just as remorse began dawning in Dean’s emerald eyes. “Sam was right…I shouldn’t have come.”

You took off, bounding up the stairs as Dean called out to you. You ignored him, desperate to get away before you collapsed completely.

You heard Dean following you, chasing you down the bunker hallway and you sprinted away. You got to your room just in time to slam the door and lock it just as Dean skidded to a halt outside.

He banged on the door, but you just moved over to your desk, dropping into the chair and swiping at your tears over and over, unable to make them stop.

“Y/N, come on! Open the door. Look, I didn’t mean that, okay? I just...just let me in.” He banged again. When you wouldn’t open it, he just kept banging. Finally he yelled at you through the wood. “You know, I can just break down the fucking door! Let me in!”

He slammed his hammer like fist against the door again, rattling it in its frame. You jumped up and ripped open the door just as he was about to start pounding again. So his fist was raised and his features were twisted in a snarl as you looked up at him. But you were calm, even though tears still leaked from your eyes.

“Enough.” You said quietly. “Look, I shouldn’t have kept bugging you, you made it very clear you didn’t want me there and that I couldn’t be of any help. So, it’s fine. I’ll leave you alone now, and you can please stop raging at me and trying to smash down my door.”

You swallowed tightly and then nodded at him. “Goodnight.”

You closed your door softly and walked back to slump onto the end of your bed. You dashed your tears away as quickly as they fell, trying to dash away Dean’s angry words too, but failing miserably.

After nearly half an hour your tears finally dried up and you decided to get ready for bed, sadness and hurt making you slow and sluggish. As you pulled your big sleep shirt on over your head, however, a noise caught your attention just outside your door.

You walked softly to the door in your bare feet, cracking it open an inch to look out into the hallway. What you saw made brand new tears cloud your vision.

Dean was sitting across from your door, his back against the wall. His knees were bent slightly with his elbows resting there and his feet planted on the floor. His eyes were shut, his head leaning back against the wall with tears streaming silently down his cheeks. Or almost silently. As you watched, his face spasmed with pain and his breath seemed to catch in his throat, making the muffled sound you’d heard; it sounded like his pain was choking him.

You opened the door wider and Dean sensed you, his eyes springing open. At first it seemed like he might bolt, but then he shook his head as he stared at you. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” His voice was a harsh whisper. “I swear to god, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

He thumped his head back against the wall twice. “I just break things. Everything.” He punctuated the word by slamming his elbow back into the wall as well, hard enough that you were worried he’d break the bone.

You hurried forward to kneel on the floor in front of him, squeezing in between his knees. You pulled his hands into yours as you tried to reassure him. “Dean, that isn’t true. You don’t break everything; you fix things, save things. It’s in your DNA to try to right all the wrongs in the world, but sometimes you just can’t.”

He stared at you intently and once again you found yourself desperate to try to ease the bottomless ache you could see in his mossy green eyes.

His voice was barely a whisper as he reached out to run his thumb across your cheekbone. “Did I break us?”

You took a deep breath. “Your words hurt me.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “But…”

You were quiet a moment before deciding it was worth taking a chance, so you just said it. “But I love you, and my love doesn’t break that easily, even if my heart does.”

You took his hand from your cheek and held it against your chest, over your heart. “Not ever. No matter what the future holds, my love is unbreakable, even when you try to smash it to pieces with both hands.”

Dean’s expression was closed off, and you couldn’t see through it to his thoughts. After a moment he shook his head. “Don’t love me, sweetheart. I can’t…I can’t protect you if you love me. Something will come and take you from me - use you to hurt me somehow.” He closed his eyes again and repeated his words from earlier in the evening.

“Every time I get close, it always falls apart.” He opened his eyes slowly and stared intently into your soul. “Every fucking time.”

He gazed at you for a long time, and you let him, hoping he could see that you weren't afraid to love him, and you weren't going to be scared away.

Suddenly he reached out to yank you into his lap and slam his mouth down on yours. You gasped into the kiss and then whimpered as he clutched you tight to him.

He pulled away from you, breathing harshly. “Am I forgiven? Because I was such a liar. I do need you.” He dipped his head to nip at your pulse point and flick his tongue against your salty skin. “I need you so fucking bad.”

You nodded, flushed and aching for his touch. “You’re forgiven.”

He crushed your lips with his once again, standing up without letting you out of his arms. He pushed you backwards through your bedroom door and closed it with a soft click, as he yanked your t-shirt off over your head, getting you naked in one quick motion.

You pushed his open flannel down his arms, being careful not to aggravate his newest injury. You fumbled with the button on his jeans for a moment, hands trembling, as he palmed your breast and squeezed, pressing his hard, blunt fingertips into your yielding flesh.

You threw your head back as he pulled your nipple into his mouth and bit it gently. You sank your hands into his short hair, tugging sharply and moaning loudly. He pulled away, just far enough that he could spin you around to face the wall. With a hand against your upper back, he bent you over slightly and lifted your arms, so that you braced them against the brick.

Then he raised your right leg, wrapping his forearm over top of it and spreading you open. You felt the knuckles of his other hand brush over your dripping wet core as he unbuttoned his jeans. Seconds later, you felt his tip pressing against your entrance and then you let out a scream of pleasure as he slammed into you hard and fast.

As he fucked up into you, he pulled you open even wider, reaching down with his free hand to rub circles into your clit with his calloused fingertips.

Eventually he dropped your leg, and pushed your feet apart while he pulled your hips back towards him. He never faltered or slowed his pace, just manhandling you into the positions he wanted.

You were bent at a ninety degree angle now, hands still braced against the wall, with your head hanging between them as Dean continued to pound into you so deep that he was almost lifting you off the floor with each thrust.

He clamped his hand on the back of your neck, using it as leverage to piston his hips forward like a jackhammer. He tilted your pelvis forward slightly and suddenly he was perfectly, relentlessly hitting your g-spot over and over until you were screaming out his name and crashing into a hard wall of pleasure. You shook with your climax, but Dean didn’t stop, riding you through your first orgasm and into several more.

Your throat was hoarse from shouts of pleasure before Dean finally cursed loudly, shouting your name and surging into your body. With one last driving push, you could feel him spurting into you hot and thick. He rocked his body against yours a few more times as his cock continued to twitch inside you.

Finally he stilled, both of you breathing harshly now, bodies slick with sweat. He laid his chest against your back, his arm still wrapped around your waist, keeping you close, keeping himself locked inside your slick warmth.

“Y/N.” You could hear the thick emotions even in his soft whisper. “You know, you save me. Every time I think I can’t recover, every time I think I won’t get back up. You make me think I can. You tell me I will.”

He paused and his voice was velvety and warm as he breathed out across your skin. “You save me.” He kissed your shoulder gently. “Every fucking time.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

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@kr804573

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

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Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

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#dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #dean winchester one shot #hurt/comfort #dean winchester #spn 13x18 #bring em back alive

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