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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 3 months ago

Note

Enemies to lovers, period sex and dirty talk with james potter please 🥹

yay a kinktober request! this is why i love these things, i would've never put those together (this request gave me some saltburn vibes ngl but dw i didn't take it that direction)

mdni obviously, fem!reader wc: 3.8k - sorry i got a bit carried away; hope you enjoy!

Bloody Hell

Damn, it was like your period was on a schedule to come when as inconvenient as possible recently. You weren’t supposed to get it for a few days. You groan, clutching your achy back, considering whether this meant you had to change your Halloween costume for tonight. You were going to Sirius’s party as witch. It didn’t involve white trousers or anything ridiculously tight or short, so you felt fine wearing your fancy dress with your now necessary period pants.

As the day dragged on, pain killers helped the cramps, but definitely not the moodiness. It’d been a while since it made you this grumpy. But, Halloween only came once a year, and you’d been excited for the party, so you try to change your attitude as you’re getting ready later.

The witch’s costume is a bit typical, but you’d loved the colours and liked the classics. Besides, it fit unusually well. Tight and loose in all the right places, the perfect skirt length, and not to mention what it did for your… bosom. You looked hot. The first person you see upon arriving at Sirius’s does not help your mood: James bloody Potter. Looking gorgeous as ever… Wait, what? No. Not gorgeous. Annoying. Yes, that was it. Annoying and smug and irritating and fit. Ugh, okay, whatever. He looked really fit.

He hadn’t dressed too far from his normal self. Still wearing his typical leather jacket and jeans, but he’d cuffed them differently and had arranged his usually very messy luscious head of hair differently.

“A witch, Y/L/N? Really?” God, why did his stupid, gruff voice always have such an effect on you?

“Not very creative.” “At least I dressed up, Potter. What are you supposed to be? A twat?”

“Har-har. So witty. This, for your information, is a 1950’s look.” “Oh, is it? I thought I saw you wearing it last week.”

He just glares at you. “Alright, alright, you two. Should’ve dressed as vampires; hasn’t even been five minutes, and you’re already at each other’s throats,” Sirius comes interrupting, giving you a quick greeting hug and shoving James a bit along the way.

“Hi, Siri,” you hug back. “Blame your bestie. He’s the one who doesn’t know how to be nice.” “Oh, because you’re always a ray of sunshine?” James retorts. “Fucking hell,” Sirius sighs, already walking away, busy playing host. He’s already turned his back but you — both of you — clearly hear his exasperated, “Just fuck already, and stop torturing the rest of us.”

Your wide, mortified eyes snap to James, whose expression mirrors yours. Then he just scoffs and walks away. Typical.

The party goes on and is actually quite fun. The place is completely covered in Halloween decorations, and some of the costumes are amazing. It’s working wonders on your mood, especially when Remus arrives, but the grumpiness has a way of sneaking its way back into your system whenever Potter approaches.

You catch him looking over at you frequently, and it gets on your nerves. What does he want? To pick a fight? And why do you care? You try to ignore him as you keep chatting to Remus.

But it becomes impossible when he comes to stand right next to you. “Alright, mate?” He claps Remus on the shoulder, completely ignoring you.

“I’m standing right here, Potter,” you can’t help but say.

“Yes, I noticed.” “Did you? Because, you see, most people when they notice someone is having a conversation, don’t just interrupt it and ignore them.”

Remus is off with a sighed, “Not this again.” “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot how much you love my attention,” James says smugly, finally turning to you and smirking. You roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m desperate for it,” you deadpan. “Though don’t think I haven’t notice you looking at me, Potter. If I did want your attention, I wouldn’t really be left wanting, would I?”

He seems a bit flustered by this, and you love it when you actually manage to get to him, to render him speechless even if for a mere moment. So, without a clear idea of where it will even lead, you pounce on the opportunity that seems to be presenting itself.

“Am I wrong? Why have you been so interested in what I’m doing tonight then?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, take a step closer. This really throws him.

“Pfft, have not.” He crosses his arms defensively. “Wow. So witty.” You cross your arms, mirroring him.

This draws his gaze down to your chest, and it lingers there. He seems to catch himself after a few seconds, but it was still a few seconds too many. Interesting.

God, was there any way Sirius was right? It was bound to happen some time.

And even if he was… if James was… what? into you? as into you as you were him? was that what you wanted? Actually admitting the feelings sounded much scarier than relentlessly arguing with him forever.

You’ve gotten lost in your thoughts (and, ugh, feelings), so you don’t notice how long has gone by. Nor do you notice that your demeanour is changing, shifting from teasing and challenging to reflective and slightly worried.

“What?” James asks, noticing.

“Nothing,” you panic.

“You’re definitely thinking something.” He waves an accusatory finger around your face. “Pfft, am not.” “Wow. So witty,” he repeats, and it’s filled with glee at retaking the upper hand.

This annoys you to no end, but you still can’t think of anything to say, so you just push past him with a “you’re so annoying.”

You try for a while to enjoy the party, to ignore James Potter — and the many thoughts and feelings about James Potter that won’t stop hounding you. You keep looking over at him, unable to help yourself.

The seemingly millionth time you do, his eyes catch yours. You want to look away, but something keeps you from doing so. Not wanting to give him the upper hand, again? Not wanting to look away from his beautiful orbs, possibly?

You just stare at each other from across the room for what feels like the heaviest few seconds of your life. Then his gaze drops, and rather than victory you feel… disappointment. You want him looking at you. Want to look at him back. Your disappointment doesn’t last for too long, though, as you realize he’s walking over to you.

He stops right in front of you, extremely close. He doesn’t say anything. You watch each other intently. “You’re staring at me,” he finally says. “You were staring at me first.”

Expecting him to deny it, you’re stunned when he responds, “So what if I was?” Then he checks you out shamelessly, his eyes dragging across your whole body, lingering on your chest, exploring your face, before landing back on your own.

That’s it. Stupid, shameless Potter. You do the only thing to do: you take a tiny step forward and smash your lips against his.

He’s kissing you back ardently before you even truly realize what’s happening. His hands grasp you desperately, pulling your body into his; his mouth contorts over yours, devouring you hungrily. He moans deeply enough for you to hear it over the loud sounds of the party. When he gropes your arse, you moan back. But you also realize what the fuck is happening. In the middle of a crowded room. So you pull back from him.

His mouth chases yours desperately, not wanting to break apart.

“Wait, James, wait.” He does. And he’s looking at you funny. “Are you alright?” you ask him. “I like how you say my name, sweetheart.” His sincerity surprises you, melts you. So even though you can’t help yourself as you respond, “Whatever, Potter,” it’s much softer than usual, warmth where there’s usually snark. He smirks at you.

“So can we keep kissing now?” “We’re in public, James.”

You don’t miss his lips quirk at the word. “So?” “So? I’m not a bloody exhibitionist! I have some standards…” “Toilet, then?” “Yeah, toilet,” you nod frantically.

His hands don’t release your hips the whole way you chase each other to the bathroom. He catches the back of your neck in a couple of quick kisses, and it’s sending tingles down your whole body.

You’re extremely grateful it’s empty when you reach it, rushing in in a frenzy. James slams the door shut and wastes no time in pushing you against it. He picks up where you had left off.

His mouth is hot and delicious against yours, his tongue dancing against yours in its explorations. He enjoys your mouth but soon traces down your jaw and starts sucking on your throat. You shiver at the sensations and pull him to you, your fingers winding into his gorgeous hair. He moans at this and the vibrations directly against your skin make you whimper.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says, his lips still tracing your throat. “I love the sounds you make.”

You hum, and he grazes his teeth across your skin, morphing your voice into a soft yelp. “Yeah, like that,” he chuckles gruffly.

The next time his mouth makes it to the base of your neck, he continues downward. He starts kissing the tops of your tits desperately, bringing his hands up your body to grope them as he does.

“Fuck, I’ve been going mad all night looking at these. You should wear this every day.” His hands move to your hips pulling you from the door over to the sink. “C’mere,” he says as he lifts you to sit on the small counter.

You wrap your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. You play with his hair as he kisses you fervently.

“I’ve always wanted to pull your hair,” you confess, surprising both of you with your honesty. “Oh yeah?” He looks so turned on, you throw any last inhibitions out the window. “Yeah. Fuck, you have nice hair.” You tug harshly on it, and his reacting groan is almost animalistic. His now black eyes stare directly into yours for a charged moment before he dives back into you.

He kisses wetly down to your throat and chest, and this time when he gets to your breasts, he unceremoniously pulls your dress and bra down.

“Fuck, you have nice tits,” he echoes and grins. He plays with them, kneading them and tugging on your nipples, rolling them between his fingers before shoving his face between them. He licks across your chest and circles your nipple with his tongue. He switches eagerly between them, puckering them both up before taking one into his greedy mouth and sucking. You let out a loud, strangled whimper at the intense and exquisite sensation, and James hums around your tit. You cradle his head against you.

Rubbing his face against your breasts, he pleads, “That’s it, baby. Keep making those sounds. I love hearing how good you feel. It’s so fucking hot.”

“Jaames,” you whine as he sucks your nipple again.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Groping them hard one more time, he brings his hands down from your tits, massaging your sides before grabbing your thighs. He squeezes them harshly, jiggling them and running his nails across your skin.

He’s running his hands up your thighs, under your skirt, toward your center, whispering “You wet for me, baby?” when your stomach drops and you remember, panicking. You’d been so caught up in James, you’d entirely forgotten.

“Fuck!” you yelp, pushing James away suddenly. He stumbles, then takes a steadying step back. He looks completely confused (and unreasonably sexy, all scruffed up from making out with you). “Fucking hell, Y/N. What? You alright?”

“I — fuck, yeah, I’m fine — I just — fuck.” You cover your face with your hands and squeeze your thighs shut. “Hey,” James says much more softly. “What’s up, love? Y��alright? You’re kind of freaking me out.” “Ugh, ‘m so sorry,” you slur into your hands. He grabs your wrists gently, pulling them away from your face. “It’s alright, whatever it is. Just… can you tell me what’s wrong?” God, how you wish you could vanish in that moment. Or better, not have had your bloody — literally — body betray you like this this morning. Why this fucking time of all times to come early?

You’re mortified, embarrassed as hell, wishing there was some way out of this without having to explain the truth and put James Potter off, probably for good. After all the time and tension it’d taken to get you here at all.

“Y/n?”

You take a steadying breath but still can’t get the words out. So you cover your face again, only able to utter them while feeling hidden from him. “‘M on my period,” you confess. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, so you brave moving your hands down and looking up at him. You’re not sure how to read his expression. Then he grins lightly and brings his hands to your cheeks. He tucks your now messy hair behind your ears on both sides before holding your face.

He’s surprised you several times tonight, but this next one takes the cake. “If you don’t mind, I don’t mind,” he says simply with a shrug and a caress of your cheeks. “What?” You can’t believe it. Every other guy it’d come up with before had treated it like the most disgusting thing. “I don’t mind,” he repeats, chuckling, moving his face closer to yours to look up deeply into your eyes.

“Are you serious?” “Yeah. I mean, if you don’t want to that’s fine, obviously. Like if you’re not feeling well or whatever, but if it’s just about the blood… I can handle a little blood.” “It’s more than a little,” you whisper embarrassedly.

“I didn’t mean it literally,” he laughs. How can he seem so lighthearted? Could he really not mind?

He brings his hands back to your thighs, pulling them slowly apart, giving you time to resist the motion, stepping between them when you don’t. He messages them on either side of his hips. “So?” he asks seductively, clearly eager to continue. “You really don’t mind?" “Really. Fuck, Y/N, I’ve been wanting this so fucking long, I’d be a madman if I waited longer just because you’re on your period.”

Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you open your legs a bit wider at his words. The dark smirk that usurps James’s expression as you do makes your cunt pulse. God, you want him. Blood be damned.

Slowly, so slowly it’s driving you insane, he ghosts his hands over your skin the rest of the way up your legs. When they finally reach your underwear, they snake under the waistband and tentatively pull. You lift your hips, and he yanks them the rest of the way off.

Instinctively, you try to shut your legs. James standing where he is only lets you do it part of the way. Pushing the insides of your knees open again, he says, “No need to hide, gorgeous.” “I — “ But words fail you. So, you simply let him open your legs.

Sensing your tension, James kisses you again. He starts softly, but you’re both so hungry for each other, so worked up already despite the interruption, that it’s only a few seconds before you’re ravaging each other again, moaning and grasping and pulling each other close. With his mouth still on yours, one hand holding your face, the other comes between your legs, grazing where your thigh meets your cunt.

You shiver, a combination of nerves and pleasure. He breaks your kiss, but rests his forehead on yours, looking straight into your eyes. He lifts his eyebrows in question, and you nod hesitantly.

He finally brings his fingers to your center, ghosting over it. When you feel the string of your tampon under his fingers, you ashamedly let out an “Oh, god” then “sorry.”

James tssks at you and whispers, “’S alright, sweetheart. It’s fine. Maybe let’s get rid of this, though, cos it’s where I want to be, yeah?” Fuck, how could he keep turning you on even more? You nod and bring your hand between your legs. You pull out the tampon and toss it over into the rubbish bin.

Without further ado, James touches you properly. His fingers slide up and down your wet folds. Your slick and blood mix under his ministrations, but it feels so fucking unreal that you finally start not to care.

You’d always been sensitive during your period. But no one else had ever touched you during it. Nor had it been after ages of sexual tension and lustful fantasies. Every graze of his hand is divine, and when his motions become proper strokes, the full length of his fingers rubbing against you, you squeal as your head falls onto his shoulder. One hand clutches the sink, the other James. “Feel good?” he teases. “Yes,” you sigh desperately.

“How about this then?” he asks as he plunges two fingers into you. You scream.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he laughs. “I mean, keep screaming, but maybe not so loud. Don’t want anyone to come knocking when I’m finally this close to fucking you.”

“Fuck.” “Hmm, that’s it. Just relax, love.” His hand thrusts as his fingers curl inside you, and you clench in utter pleasure. “Fuuuck, you’re squeezing me so bloody tight, love. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” You let out some kind of strained affirmative groan and clench again. “Yeah? Want to feel me fill you up?” “Yes, fuck, yes, please.”

“Who knew you could be this nice, Y/L/N? That all it’d take was my fingers inside you.” “Shut up, Potter.” But there’s no bite to it. “We both know you don’t want me to shut up. I can feel how much you’re enjoying this.” You just bite your lip and whimper when he pushes his thumb against your clit. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You can bring the snark back after I make you cum.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the thought, and you nod, giving into him. “I know I could do it like this, but I can’t wait any longer to feel you, baby.”

He pulls his hand out of you, and you whine. When you see how entirely covered in blood it is, any further sounds die in your throat at your mortification.

“I —“ you start, but James just shakes his head and kisses you to shut you up. Not breaking apart from you, he reaches blindly for the hand towel and cleans his hands when he finally finds it. There’s still dark red traces of you on the fingers that then hurry to his trousers, opening them in a rush. He pushes them down and pulls his cock free. Your cunt clenches around nothing at the sight. “James,” you whine. “Yeah, sweetheart?” “Please fuck me.” With a deep groan, one of his hands roughly pulls your head to keep making out with you and the other grabs his cock and lines it up with your center. He pushes in fast. His mouth devours the sounds yours makes in response.

He starts pounding in and out of you, not bothering to start slow. You’re sure you’d be wet enough regardless, but as things stand, he’s gliding in and out of you. A loud squelching sounds as he thrusts, but before you have time to be embarrassed, James moans, “Fuck, you feel so fucking amazing,” and pounds harder.

He has to bring one hand to the sink just behind you to stabilize himself from how roughly he’s going; his other hand takes a vice-like grip of your hip. His head ends up in the crook of your neck, and he kisses and sucks. Your hand comes to his hair, your other arm clinging around his shoulders clutching him as your whole body reverberates with his movements.

He slows down only enough to lean his head slightly down to where your tits are bouncing. He sucks your nipple and keeps it in his mouth as he keeps fucking into you. At the harsh and unexpected suck, you scream again. He makes no effort to quiet you.

With his face at your chest, he’s opened a bit of space between your bodies, and he brings a hand to where he keeps disappearing in and out of you. He starts rubbing messily on your clit.

With that sensation on top of all the others that have your body on fire, you cum violently around him with strangled yell.

He thrusts through it, but a few clenches of your pussy later, he can’t help but cum too. Your clutching cunt milks him dry.

He’s panting loudly when he finally stops moving, his hips still, his face resting on your chest. An aftershock ripples through him, and his body gives a quick shake. Then he gives your breast a quick peck before moving to kiss your mouth. It doesn’t last; he’s so out of breath, but he rests his forehead on yours as he recovers. His arms rest on the sink on either side of you, caging you in. You feel warm and safe, and you stroke up and down his strong arms. He smiles and pecks your lips.

“Not bad, Potter,” you finally break the silence. He chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“You cannot possibly act nonchalant after the sounds you just made, Y/L/N. I’m surprised no one burst in here thinking someone was getting murdered.”

You laugh together. It’s concerningly nice.

When you settle down, James looks between you. He pulls out gently. And it’s a fucking mess.

“I don’t think the words ‘bloody hell’ have ever been so appropriate,” he jokes, staring at it. “Oh god,” you say, covering your face in your hands again. “C’mon, Y/L/N. I thought we were past this bit.” It’s harsh but encouraging as he pulls your hands from your face and quickly kisses your forehead. “C’mon,” he offers as he helps lift you off the counter in a way that lets you hop over the… puddle.

You both stand there staring at the crimson crime scene of a sink.

Looking at it but leaning toward you, James asks, “D’you think we could get away with saying it’s Halloween decorations?”

You burst out laughing again.

“The blood, maybe, but… there’s some of you there too…”

“Well, at least our first time is certainly memorable. Happy Halloween, Y/L/N.”

Your heart does something funny at “first time.” So, you ignore it for now and simply say, “Help me clean this up before Sirius actually does murder us in here.”

#kinktober 2024 #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter smut #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfic #marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #marauder x reader #marauders smut #marauders fanfic #enemies to lovers

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firemenenthusiast · 7 months ago

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Can you plzz do a farleigh smut where he only rubs the readers clit bc the reader is too scared to finger herself, but then she gets the courage to finger herself and charles shows her how to do it??

—“spell”

farleigh start x innocent!reader

summary: farleigh had trouble resisting you since the first time he saw you so he laid his trap to which you walk right in, starting from agreeing to spend the summer at saltburn with him. the fact that you’ve never done anything with yourself boggles his mind, so he decides to lend a helping hand

warnings: boy where do i start. 18+, porn with plot, reader is innocent, naive and kinda stupid (bear with me), fingering, mirror kink, corruption kink, panties kink, posessive kink if you squint, size kink, praise kink, farleigh calls ready baby & princess, blowjob, face fucking, pussy job, panties job (?), cum eating, facial, dry humping, thigh riding, jerking off, p in v, let me know if i miss anything

a/n: we hit another milestone thank you everyone !! this is me showing my love to yall mwah. innocent reader finally out whoohoo. idk who’s charles but thank you anon for this request ! i hope it fits with what you’ve imagined

summer could be too hot at times. sweaty. sticky. but nothing could make you hate summer. you love summer. your favourite season ever. the blossoming flowers and clear skies are one thing, but summer also means that you get to wear the flimsiest, flowiest, thinnest fabrics ever. sometimes almost see through, because of the heat. maybe if you wear thin enough short dresses the heat won’t get to you. what other perfect time one could be wearing the cutest dresses around if not in summer ? atleast that’s your excuse. wonder if there’s any other reasons. i mean, your short skirts and flimsy tops surely dont have anything to do with how nice farleigh is to you, do they ? you’re just so— pure, even naive at times that he doesn’t have the heart to treat you how he does others. delicate fragile little thing like you should only be handled with care

farleigh start is really nice to you, he’d helped you picked up the books you accidentally dropped when he bumped into you. he even offered to help carry them while you walk to class, which had drawn you to him. you’d given him the cutest, most doe-eyed little “thank you” for helping and he could just feel his cock twitch in his pants. it’s not easy to find a decent man around here so when he often showed up to your convenience you believe that he’s just a good person, with nothing but pure intentions. sure, farleigh thinks you’re such a pretty little thing.

that’s why when he first saw you on college fields, licking away at your cherry popsicle that was dripping down your fingers, giggling about something with your friends, he couldn’t get his eyes off you. he couldn’t stop thinking about things— things that he could be doing to you. for every day of summer you would put on the nicest short dresses that you’d saved just for the season. the type of dresses that cling onto your skin if you sweat through the fabric. those dresses that look like they could get one hard tug and would rip easily.

it’s funny how such silly first meeting could lead you to farleigh. the both of you aren’t necessarily friends, he’s more of the nice guy you know and would greet whenever you see him around the faculty. he’d smile and wave at you across the halls. he’d offer you a seat at the cafeteria if he sees you looking around. he helps you with stuff around campus, like returning your books to the library and carrying your stuff. though you do find it weird that you couldn’t find the books he said he’d help return on the shelves anymore. and because he’s so tall, he serves as your guardian, protects you from other boys that try to bother you. he doesn’t ask for anything in return, just a smile from you would suffice, the smile that leaves him smitten. farleigh also knows about the love you have for summer, the way you always mention how great of a time you would have in summer. just casually telling him about that time you wandered into a hayfield and just laid there looking at the sky. or about that time when you were little you had just received a gorgeous little floral dress as a present that you wore everyday because you liked it so much. sometimes you just couldn’t shut your mouth when it comes to summer. you’re sentimental about it, and the fact that he would sit through your stories every time, no wonder how random it can be or how busy he actually is

you jumped when he asked you to spend the summer with him. “really ?? are you serious ?” you beam at him with uncontainable excitement. your toes springing up and down, his eyes follow yours as you jump and squeal, a huge grin plastered across his face. farleigh had told you about his saltburn home. the most perfect, ethereal place to be spending summer at. you love to listen to his stories about what they do at saltburn in summer. basking under the sun at the lakeside, playing tennis, rolling in the hayfield naked— so when he invited you to spend the upcoming summer in saltburn, with him, you couldn’t be more excited. it’s gonna be the best summer ever. “yeah it’ll be fun. besides, elspeth is always thrilled to have a guest. she loves a pretty face like yours” you feel your cheeks heat up at his words as you push him away. he smiles at your reaction, sometimes it’s almost too easy for him to get what he wants with you. it’s always been felix who would bring his friends, toys- over so he figured this time he’d do the same. he chuckles at you twirling around in excitement, eyes trailing down to your ass peeking out under the skirt. he could see the bits of your panties if you would just jump higher.

thinking about spending the summer at saltburn, you cant help but imagine how it would be like. you’ve heard people talk about the greatest parties that took place there, and how sex infested it can get. people do all sort of wild things there, the wildest you could imagine. the type of crazy that you could say what happens there, stays there. trailing your eyes along the corners of your ceiling, you let out a heavy sigh. you’ve always had a positive attitude towards sex and well, other sexual stuff. you’d hear crazy stories from your friends, about stuff they did or would do in the bedroom with boys. it’s understandable for people your age to be acting like they don’t have a second to spare from reproducing. their stories intrigue you cuz you’ve never done the things they’d talk about.

they would mention playing with themselves, you struggled to understand at first, thinking what is there to be played with yourself until you learned what it actually means. you’ve never done it though, you’re too scared and it feels so crude to be doing such thing. sounds like a sin. every time you would try to rub your dainty fingers between your folds, you’d retreat though it felt so good. you heard that you’re supposed to be stuffing your fingers inside, and that scared you even more. they’d mention being wet, as in aroused, but you remember the conversation you had with your mom when you were going through puberty. the one you went through at a very early age. she had told you that it is possible, and that if you ever become wet because of someone, it means that they’ve done something bad to you. like they have put a spell on you so you would succumb to the fantasy of pleasure with them. you believe her. she may had just wanted to protect you then but it fucked with your perception towards arousal so bad that when your friends told you stories about it, you’d feel bad for them. you feel bad cuz they’ve been put under a spell yet they seem so happy about it. you wonder if they knew.

it’s not like you’re a virgin. you’ve had sex when you were younger, with a lanky boy who suggested you to do it with him like it’s just another invitation to go hang out. not thinking much, you agreed to him. you didn’t feel any pleasure when it happened. it was just a weird sensation and shitty experience overall. you’ve been pretty avoidant when it comes to sex since. you feel like people talk about it too much yet it’s not that great. you think sex is overrated, so no one has ever touched you in years. boys would try to get close with you, talk nice to you but you see right through them. not farleigh though, he seems genuinely nice. or so you thought. you’ve asked farleigh about sex seeing that he frequents it along the course of you knowing him. he thinks it’s overrated too and he only does it for fun. he’s fucked a number of people you know here and he said none of them makes him want to come back for seconds. when you told him about that experience you had he laughed, “dont sweat it baby, he just sucked at it. probably got too turned on by you he couldn’t last more than 5 seconds” maybe he’s right. alas, farleigh wouldn’t lie to you would he ? no, he’s too nice for that. so when you told him you’ve never done things with yourself and that you haven’t been touched for years it came off as such a shock to him. girls he know not only would play with themselves, they even practically throw themselves at him just to get fucked. knowing that you’re so— reserved, he felt like you just got purer, more precious in his eyes. sometimes he feels like a predator eyeing its prey. the way he would think of ways to corrupt you. but those are just bad silly thoughts at the back of his head. he’s too nice to act on them, right ?

your first day at saltburn could be easily described by the word ‘crazy’. everything is just crazy around here. from the towncar the cattons had sent to fetch you from the train station, the butler and footmen standing still at the huge beautifully carved doors welcoming you, the green carpet spread out as far as your eyes can lay upon, the greek sculptures scattered along the garden trails, to the seemingly nice people that are farleigh’s aunt and uncle. he was right, elspeth called you pretty. like bambi she said. you met venetia, the only other girl around your age living in the enormous estate. she seems happy to be getting a girl company for the summer, showing you around the house and always borrowing you from farleigh. he paid no mind towards the friendship that is forming between you and venetia, as long as you’re having the best time ever. he wants this summer to be able to compete with your previous amazing ones. you’re walking alongside venetia with your knitted beach totebag across the field, towards the lake when felix greets you. he’s just as tall as farleigh, maybe a little shorter by an inch but you can see the genes connecting them both. “heard you’re farleigh’s friend, how’d you know him ?” you smile at his question before giving a quick answer. “he helps me around campus, he’s always so kind to me—“ before you could say anything further, he scoffs in disbelief. “farleigh ? kind ? think you got the wrong bloke there mate” he shakes his head before skipping away towards the yellow hayfields, his hair flopping messily. you look at venetia who’s giggling at you, also shaking her head while raising her shoulders. frowning at her, you couldn’t get to bask in your confusion any longer as she takes your hand and drags you towards the boys.

seeing her strip off, you look around to see the boys already laying comfortably, clothes off. most of them are covered by the tall grass but you can tell that they’re not wearing anything. particularly cuz you spotted the discarded clothes that they were wearing at breakfast not far from you. as you start to lift off the hem of your top, you feels venetia’s hand on your arm. “you dont have to, it’s just a stupid thing we do” you nod at her words, a little relieved yet you feel like you’re gonna miss out from the real saltburn experience if you dont do it like them. so you follow venetia’s actions before settling on the ground, in between the tall grass. she starts giggling at you as you slowly burst into laughter, not noticing the burning glance trailing along the outlines of your body. the grass covering the most of you teasing him, depriving him of the sight he craves the most at the moment. thankfully felix is too caught up in his cig to notice him practically eyefucking you, putting his imagination to work like he’s some prepubescent horny teenager. you felt your saliva caught up in your throat when you noticed his naked body in the grass when you were looking around earlier, and you’ve been trying to shake off the image of his tan broad shoulders, glistening in sweat, beads of it dripping to his defined collarbones since. as he seems busy flipping through the pages of his harry potter book, you hope for his focus to stay on the lore as your eyes continue to scan his beautiful face, his luscious curls bouncing off his forehead. his shoulders propped up against the ground, looking firm and shiny from the sun

weird tingling sensation crawls across your body as you struggle to take your eyes off him, or his body. he looks so flawless in his glory, basking under the sunlight, the sweat clinging onto his skin making him glisten. the tingling you felt turns into heat, seemingly most prominent around your core. the more you try to ignore the heat, the weirder it feels until you notice the forming stickiness in between your folds. fuck. you wanted to panic badly yet you keep your composure around venetia, not wanting to let her know what’s happening. you look at farleigh who’s still laying on his chest, your eyes widen at the fact that it’s happening to you. he’s put a spell on you. he must have, cuz one second you were looking at him and now you’re wet. just like what your mom had told you about. internally panicking, you quickly grab your clothes and try to put them on without having to stand up, to avoid flashing the boys. just as you’re done, you abruptly get up on your kneews before venetia notices. “what’s wrong ?” you look at her, offering a smile to convince her nothing’s going on. “nothing, forgot my sunscreen” she gives you a look of approval before sliding her shades back down. your swift movements and walk back to the house catches farleigh’s attention as his eyes follow your disappearing figure into the distance. he puts his book down as he slowly reach for his clothes before patting felix at the back, to which he pays no attention to. he’s too busy listening into the earphones connected to his walkman with his head settled on his crossed arms. farleigh’s eyes notice your small figure stepping into the foyer before taking the turn leading to your assigned bedroom, the men in suits along the corridor eyeing you as they stand still. hastening his steps, he tries to catch you at the coridor before you got into your room but failed. you’d planned to check yourself out in the bathroom, see what’s actually going on down there, hoping that maybe it’s your period though that’s not for another 3 weeks. pushing your underwear down your thighs, you notice the colourless wet patch at the crotch. trying to make sure, you dip your fingers in between your folds to collect some of the stickiness. holding your fingers up, you feel your breath caught up in your throat. you feel like you could cry, you couldn’t believe farleigh would do this to you. he’s supposed to be nice and kind unlike other boys—

just as you step out of the bathroom your eyebrow quirks at the tall figure standing just infront of the door, his linen yellow polo tshirt hanging loosely on his shoulders, his fingers fiddling with each other. “w-what are you doing— you shouldn’t be here” your eyes struggle to find something to settle on, trying hard to avoid his direct gaze. “is something wrong ? why’d you leave ?” his eyes trail to yours, trying to catch them as you make way to the wardrobe, opening the doors to see your clothes that have been neatly arranged by the maids. looking through the compartments and drawers, you’re actually trying to find a fresh clean pair of underwear to replace your soaked ones. seeing you suspiciously try to run and avoid looking at him, you leave him no choice other than to grab your arm. his action makes you turn to face him, he steps closer before crouching so his face levels with yours, his eyes searching into yours. pursing your lips shut, you didn’t want to confront him for what he did just yet but now that he’s standing infront of you- you decide to finally look at him

“i- i cant believe you did this to me farleigh” he cocks his head, taken aback by your words, not having any idea what you may be talking about. before he asks you decide to spare him the pretending. “the spell” you continue in a stern voice. “what the— what spell ?” his voice pitch higher as his eyebrows quirk. you let out a sigh, “i looked at you in the fields, now im- your spell, now im— wet” he looks like he’s still trying to puzzle the pieces together. rolling your eyes “you must’ve casted a spell to get to me, otherwise how am i this- wet ?” you wince at your struggle to explain to him, having to say the word ‘wet’ so much cuz you don’t know how else to make him understand. his face drops in realisation, finally getting to guess what you’re trying to say, yet he’s still weirded out. “so…you think i casted a spell on you that makes you wet..?” you squint your eyes at his slow response, is he pretending to be innocent or what ? “who told you that ?” he asks. “who cares ? i thought you were nice” getting defensive, you’re starting to feel that you’re being ridiculous. you notice his shoulders drop, his stance softening as he throws his head back with a smile on his lips.

“oh poor baby,,” he starts, before stepping back towards the bed, sitting on it.

“—come here” he ushers you, to which you compliantly follow. he grabs your arm to position you so you’re facing him, as he looks up to find your face. you’re now as silent as a baby deer, waiting for him to say something. he begins to chuckle lowly as he shakes his head. “so you think because you’re wet from watching me in the fields, i’ve put a spell on you” he tsks, before continuing with his dark eyes boring into yours “how cute.” his hands start to touch yours, ghosting his fingers along your wrist, trailing up your arms. a shiver travels down your spine at his touch, your eyes search into his, multiple feelings creeping into your head that you struggle to focus on one. one thing you’re sure of is you don’t want him to stop doing whatever he’s doing. suddenly his hands start smoothing over the hem of your skirt, his fingers carefully playing with the waistband against your navel, maintaining eye contact the whole time with an amused look on his face. “maybe i should take a look at the affected area, see it it’s curable hm ?” he suggests, both his index fingers already hooked beneath the waistband. you nod at him, your mom never told you what to do if one gets put on that spell but it makes sense if he needs to be the one to heal you. as he was about to pull your skirt down he changed his mind, he has a better idea that is to just leave your cute frilly little skirt on. slowly bunching up your skirt from the hem, he has his bottom lip between his teeth. you feel heat finding its way on your cheeks as you hear him curse under his breath. “oh- you’re really wet baby” the nickname makes you lightheaded. “all this because of me ?” he says proudly at which you frown at his stupid words. why is he acting like this is an achievement ?

“yes now can you cure me ?” you’re becoming restless the way you can feel yourself getting wetter. that’s not a good sign, it just means it’s getting to you. you’re worried that it might go beyond curable and you’re stuck living with the spell forever. not giving you any response, his hand still holding your bunched up front skirt as his fingers graze the fabric of your panties. he trails his finger at the top, where he can feel his cock pulse seeing the tiny ribbon. your panties had turn a shade darker from its original colour from your wetness clinging onto it. suddenly you feel his thumb press at your crotch, earning a gasp from you. you quickly pull your skirt higher to look at what he’s doing. the thumb that was pressing against your sensitive nub now rubbing at the wettest part of your crotch, pushing and rubbing the fabric in between your folds. he’s making you feel so good you wanted to tell him to keep going. his fingers are now grabbing the fabric together, before pulling it up against your folds making you moan. you look at him with wide eyes, he’s not looking back at you as he’s busier tugging and rubbing the fabric against your pussy, an amused look on his face. he could just see you getting wetter and practically drenching your panties. “fuck,, you have such a pretty cunny” his words making your pussy tingle before you decide to urge him, “help me, farleigh”

he lifts his head, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “i can cure you. but you have to be good for me” you listen to his words carefully before nodding, “i can be good” he smiles as his hands slowly grab at your arms, turning you to face the full body mirror mounted against the wall infront of him before pulling you down to settle on his lap. he rests his chin in the crook of your shoulder, looking at your eyes through the reflection on the mirror. his fingers creep up to your thighs, playing with the hem of your frilly white short skirt. as you try to breathe steadily around him you feel your breath hitch at his fingers’ sudden movement smoothing along your inner thighs. your eyes instantly shoot to his fingers now disappearing under your skirt before getting the clear view of his fingers playing with the side hem of your flimsy panties after his other hand had bunch up your skirt to your waist. you feel his plump lips plant soft kisses on the crook of your neck, his eyes gazing directly into yours. as you feel his lips, you can’t help but look into his eyes in the mirror, not breaking eye contact as he continue his kisses and his fingers grazing very lightly on the wet fabric of your panties. “farleigh-“ you let out a soft moan. “you told me you’ve never touched yourself ?” you shake yout head at his question, head too hazy to give him actual words. “that’s a pity” you dont really get what he meant by that but you dont think you’re missing out much.

he takes your hand in his, guiding it to your core. “here” you crane your neck up to him, looking into his face. he looks down, meeting your gaze. “i’ll show you” you keep silent as you let him pull your thighs even further, placing them over his. you can see yourself sprawled out on his lap in the mirror, showcasing your glistening panties clad cunt. farleigh’s fingers pull the side hem of your crotch, holding them to the side as his other hand bring yours over. “try grazing your fingers over the little nub there” he instructs and watch closely as you do what you’re told. you moan as you feel the pressure against the sensitive part. he continues to guide you through touching yourself the way it would feel so fucking good, that you’re a whiny moaning mess. you feel heat on your cheeks the whole time, embarrassed by the fact that he’s watching you touch yourself. “now try one finger inside” he suggests, your head shot up to look at him. “it’s okay, it’ll feel even better” his large hand grab yours, showing you to your cunthole. you obey him, prodding a finger at the hole, yet you feel nothing but discomfort. “it doesn’t feel good, farleigh” he pushes your hand further, your finger now fully inside. you bite your bottom lip trying to hold onto yourself. “now curl your finger” you take a minute to steady yourself before doing what he told you to. once your finger hit that spongy spot, you let out a high pitched moan at the newly discovered sensation. farleigh smiles at your reflection in the mirror, “there you go” you experiment with the all new experience for you, you try curling your fingers multiple times against the spot as it gives you pleasure each time. farleigh watches you get lost in the sensation in the mirror, fucking yourself on your finger. his eyes darkened as he feels a dark, lust dripping need form inside him.

as you rapidly fuck your finger into your pussy, you feel knotting in your stomach, a weird tingling making you feel like you were gonna pee. “farleigh-“ you call out to him, your free hand grabbing his arm that were resting on your waist. “you’re close baby ?” you knit your eyebrows at his words, unfamiliar with the feeling. “keep going, you’re doing so good” he encourages, his lips kissing against your neck, trailing behind your ear. he sucks the skin at the back of your neck as he feel your breath getting faster and heavier. all the overwhelming pleasure is new to you yet it feels too good for you to stop. “you can cum princess, cum for me” you can feel yourself chasing after something, until it all comes crashing down, the orgasm washing over you as the sweat making your hair stick onto your forehead. he looks at you through the mirror, offering you a smile as he pushes the hair out of your forehead and wiping the sweat from your rose tinted hot cheeks.

“you did such a great job, baby” your breath hitch at the new nickname, yet your head is too clouded to say anything about it. he let you catch your breath in his lap, his hands roaming at your waist. “that should cure you” he says before pulling you up, he gets up himself as he places you carefully on the bed, you sit at the spot he sat in just now. though you feel relieved, you feel like you wanted more, you wanted more of him, more of whatever that was happening, the pleasure clouding your better judgement. “farleigh,,” you call out just as he was about to walk away. “let me do something for you” he turns, his lips pursed to hold himself back from smiling at the fact that you’re about to walk right into his trap. he walks back, standing right in front of you. “yeah ?” he says, as you start reaching up and tugging at his belt. your eyes notice the huge bulge at his crotch. “you’re- hard, boys like it when girls suck them off when they’re hard, right ?” you ask him, he moans at your words. “well yeah, but you don’t have to” you shake your head at him, “i want to” you’re quick to respond as he bites his lower lip to suppress the strings of curses he wants to let out. “you’re the sweetest- fuck,,”

you begin to unbuckle his belt as he watches you carefully. he could cum right this second just by looking at your pretty innocent looking face. “god, you’re so breathtakingly pretty” he compliments, earning a giggle from you. you’re gonna look even prettier with a huge cock stuffed in your mouth, he thinks. his eyes follow your hands, that are now taking out his cock from his briefs, your hands barely covering the size of his length. you take a deep breath before looking up at him through your lashes, batting them at him with your doe eyes. he smiles at you before throwing his head back once your tongue start kitten licking at his tip. his hand automatically reach up to rest at the back of your head as he watches you suckling his raging red wet tip. “am i doing it right ?” you ask him, worried that you might doing it wrong for your first time.

“fuck, right- its your first time” “just- try squeezing your hand around the base while you suck at the tip, fuck-” he suggests, his head getting light from all the blood rushing to his cock. his hand involuntarily pushes your head down, his cock fucking into your mouth. letting out a whimper, he struggles to keep his hips from buckling, his length hot and heavy on your tongue. your plump lips now wrapped around his cock, perfectly fit for you. smothering saliva all over it, your hands squeeze at the base, and the rest of it that you can’t fit in your mouth, his tip already prodding at the back of your throat. “so good baby, you’re doing so good- look so pretty with my big cock stuffed in your face, mhm” he says, sending familiar heat down your cunt, you feel it getting wetter as before. you try hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head back and forth, your lips wrapped nicely around his cock. you hear him let out a low guttural moan. you look up at him through your lashes, he’s throwing his head back from the pleasure, his hips slightly buckling into your mouth making you pull away.

catching your breath, you feel his large hands cupping your cheeks, smoothing over the skin. “you’re a natural, princess” you smile up at him, before trailing your eyes down to look at his length. he’s huge, his tip raging red with precum trickling down his length. you lean in to catch the drop of precum at the underside of his base, earning a curse from him, before he moans. “how are you already so good at this, fuck-“ you cant help but smile at his words before continuing your licking and sucking on his cock. its not long until you notice him twitching, cock jumping as his face contorts in pleasure. his hand reach up to wrap his fingers around him before he starts jerking himself off, his hand moving rapidly with his jaw hanging low, mouth agape. his voice cracks as he’s letting out a loud moan, before you watch him shoot ropes of sticky white mess, landing on your face, most covering your lips and cheeks, some on your collarbone. you’re shocked, a little weirded out by his cum sticking on your face but cant help letting out a giggle while looking up at him. he was catching his breath as he noticed you giggling, before letting out a laugh himself. He reaches up to your face, fingers collecting the cum before prodding them at your lips. You frown at his action, weirded out that he wants you to suck at his cum covered fingers. He nods, encouraging you, “you can taste” he offers, before you decide to give in, trusting him has been giving you bliss until now. You open your mouth as he pushes his fingers past your lips, your tongue lapping at the sticky substance. Humming, you look at him, “‘s sweet”

“well im glad” he chuckles

“you okay?” he asks as you nod before gaining the courage to tell him about the wetness forming again in your panties. “farleigh im- im wet again” he lets out a chuckle, “your cunny’s wet again ?” heat rushing up to your cheeks at his words as you shyly nod, embarrassed. “you do realise that just means you’re turned on right ? nothing to do with me putting a spell on you” he chuckles at the silly concept you believe in. you’re taken aback by his words, realisation hits. the first time was maybe explainable by your mother’s words, but the second time around, now that you’re wet again, he might be right. he sits on the bed before pulling you to sit on his lap, your legs settling on either side of him, straddling him this time. your eyes roam across his face, appreciating his beautiful features, his long lashes, his dark brown eyes, his thick eyebrows, they’re all so pretty to you. you reach your hand up to graze your fingers along his lips, feeling every lines and crooks, slightly pulling at his bottom lip before leaning in to kiss him.

he lets out a breath as he leans into the kiss, pressing his lips softly against your plump ones, savouring your flavour. your lips dance against his, pulling him closer to you with his large hands grabbing at your waist. the kiss is soft, and pure in some way, it feels like there’s only the two of you in the world at the moment. your first ever kiss with him. his lips moulds perfectly against yours, making you want to kiss him forever. he’s a good kisser too, effortlessly returning your kiss and offering his own, his tongue swiping across your lips. his hand on your waist start grabbing firmer, moving you back and forth against his thigh and crotch. he lets out a sigh as he pulls away for a moment, resting his forehead against yours as he looks down to see the tent in his pants forming again. he continues to lean into you, kissing you once again while he guides you to hump at his crotch. the material of his pants serving you a little bit of pleasure as you try to chase that orgasm you had discovered from earlier. “you can go faster if you want” he says, offering you his lap to help you get off.

“use me” he continues

you wrap your arms around his neck, your boobs pressed up against his chest to steady yourself. his hands continue to guide your pace by your waist as he plant soft kisses along the crook of your neck and your shoulders. the bulge in his pants rub against your soaked panties before you accidentally angled yourself that you’re humping against your clit. the tingling of pleasure spreading all across your body leaves you a moaning mess, causing him to buckle his hips against your pussy. “you’re doing great princess, does that feel good to you ?” he asks as his hand roam across your back, encouraging you to get yourself off on his lap. you nod at him, too caught up in the pleasure now that you’ve found your sweet spot. “can you use your words for me baby?” you whimper at his request as you arch your back against him. “feels- feels so good far’” you manage to let out before letting out a whine.

“that’s my girl” he smiles.

you continue to work yourself on his lap yet you feel like you need more. grabbing at his polo, his eyes search into yours before trailing down at your hands pulling up the hem. he helps you take of his shirt as you marvel at his toned chest, fingers grazing along his collarbone. your pace on his lap becomes stuttered, interrupted by you trying to undress him. his hands grab your roaming ones, stopping your eager movements. “what do you need ?” not responding to his question, you grab the hem of your top instead, pulling it off of you. farleigh’s breath hitch as he moan at the bouncing tits in his face. he grabs at your waist to get you to look at him, his eyes pleading for your permission. you return his gaze, looking into his eyes for a moment before slowly nodding. he maintains eye contact with you as he slowly poke his tongue out, licking at your nipples, looking at you through his lashes. the warm wet tongue against your sensitive bud makes you moan, as you feel the bulge underneath you twitch. he’s now mouthing at your mould, his tongue spreading saliva all over it, all while looking into your eyes. pulling away, he grabs at both of them “such pretty tits, fuck”. you moan at his words, beginning to rub your clit against his crotch again. “need- need more farleigh” you plead him, before he grabs your waist to lift you up and lay you on the bed. now that you’ve had a taste of him, you can feel your body crave for more. for all of him.

“yeah ? that sweet cunny needs more huh ?” a sudden rush of hear creeps up your cheeks as you raise your hands to cover your face from embarrassment. you feel like you’re all exposed to him, like a platter waiting to be devoured. “you’re so small, i don’t think i can fit-“ he begins, as he leans down to plant soft kisses under your boobs, trailing down to your stomach with his hands roaming across the soft skin. “i’m gonna try something” he slowly takes out his cock that was covered by the crotch of his pants, his belt clacking as he winces at the friction against his length. he rests his cock on your soaked panties, his length heavy and throbbing. you look down to see his size, his tip reaching your lower belly. “such cute panties, shame it’s all ruined now” he smirks at the flimsy fabric of your panties that is now drenched in wetness. tracing his fingers at the cute ribbon at the top, he uses both hand to lift the fabric, stickiness stringing in between it and your pussy. he pushes his cock underneath the fabric before pushing it down with his fingers, creating a tight friction for him. he hisses at the feeling, before looking up at your eyes attentively following each of his movements, curious to see what he’s doing.

“‘m gonna fuck this panties okay ? rub my cock against your little folds. it’ll feel good” he informs, to which you nod. after that pleasure of riding his crotch earlier at his orders, you’re excited to see what this one’s gonna feel like. you hear him let out a moan as he starts moving, his hips fucking into your panties, his wet throbbing tip prodding against your sensitive nub, earning a whine from you. he’s right, it does feel good. and he looks so hot doing so, his face contorting and eyebrows knitted. his mouth agape as he lets out moans while looking at his cock going in and out of your panties, the wetness making the fabric translucent that he can see his cock fucking against your folds through it. he pulls the edge and pushes the hem further down, creating an even better pressure against his cock, pretending he’s fucking into your tight pussy. “fuck,, bet your cunny’s tighter baby” your eyes widen at his dirty words, your hands covering your mouth as you bite the skin on your thumb. not knowing where or how you gained the sudden confidence, “y-you can feel it for yourself” you offer, eyes carefully looking at his face, nervous anticipating for his reaction. his cock twitch underneath your panties before he throws his head back at your words.

“fuck princess,, you can’t say things like that”

“like what” you’re borderline panicking that you might’ve said something weird

“i might not be able to stop once i get a taste of your cunny”

you’re silent at his response, not really understanding what he meant by that. you continue to let him fuck your panties, his tip bulging through the material with each thrust. his length against your folds and his tip prodding at your clit makes you moan in a high pitch, the shivers travelling down your spine making you arch your back. grabbing at his hands, he looks at you while he struggles to halt his movements, his eyes searching into yours. “can you put it inside ?” you shyly asks, wanting to feel what it’s like to have his cock inside you, wondering if it’s gonna be the same as your first time. “what ?” his eyes widen at your request. he wasn’t planning on stuffing you full, you’ve already given him so much than he’d planned. “yeah- wanna, wanna feel your cock inside” he swears he almost busted at your words, his cock now painfully hard. “are you sure ?” he asks innocently. he’s been wanting to fuck you ever since he first saw you, so saying this is just a fucking cover for him. a manipulator he is, and you’re like a bunny foolishly trapped. “yes please” you bat your lashes cutely at him making him smile. making you say you want him inside you is one thing, but making you say please ? he fucking won.

he takes out his throbbing wet cock from your panties, his length bouncing as he settles on his knees, his face now infront of your pussy. he kisses at the fabric clinging onto your folds, moulding against your every crooks perfectly. he reaches the waistband of your panties, his lips kissing at your inner thighs on either sides of his face before pulling the band off your legs. his hands grab at your thighs as he looks at you through his lashes, smiling. he looks at your pussy infront of him, “thank you” he says before leaning in to kiss at your clit softly. you giggle at his actions, saying thank you to your cunt like he’s grateful for the meal. he chuckles against your pussy before getting up to put the weight of his cock on it, your wetness spreading onto his length, covering it with your juices. he moves backwards a bit as he positions his tip at your entrance before pushing his head in. you whine at the feeling, even with only his tip you can feel its bigger than you remember. who are you kidding anyways ? he’s 6’5, of course he’s gonna be huge. you whimper as he continue to push into your pussy, you push through the sting, taking his length like a champ. biting down at the skin of your thumb, he didn’t bottom out before he starts pulling out slightly, and pushing back in again. it’s a tight fit, your walls wrapped perfectly around his length as you hear the squelching sound from all the wetness. you offer him a soft smile shyly making him throw his head back.

“you’re so cute- oh” his words stumble as he feels you clenching down around his cock. “oh fuck” as his slow thrusts become stuttered, you giggle at his reaction before clenching down again. and again. and again- that he’s now crouched down against you, his face settling in the crook of your neck. “you okay ?” you tease him, at which he lets out a strained chuckle. “y- cunny’s so tight baby” you hold onto his shoulders as he starts thrusting again, bottoming up in the process. moans and skin slapping bounce against the walls of the room, the overwhelming pleasure making you forget that you’re in saltburn, having notably the best summer. you let him continue fucking into your pussy, letting out whines and moans ever now and then at him founding and hitting at your sweet spot. it was easy for him to find, every spot is basically so sensitive to you, he could thrust at any spot and you’d cum instantly. which is what’s happening now. your high pitch moans and legs shaking against his tells him that you’re close. “you’re close princess, cum for me” you whine at his words, his fingers reaching down to toy at your clit, helping you chase that orgasm.

the added pleasure makes you moan louder, your eyes searching his for encouragement. he looks into your eyes, his soft brown gaze makes you feel safe before you look down at his fingers rapidly rubbing at your clit. screaming his name, your orgasm finally crashes down on you, your breath heavy as your chest move up and down. “that feel good yeah ?” he asks you, he’s also catching his breath from watching you riding out your orgasm before you feel his thrusts getting faster and sloppier. sounds of skin slapping all so dirty to you as you hear him let out uncontrollable moans before he takes out his cock. his fingers quickly wrap around his length before he starts jerking off rapidly while moaning. his eyebrows knitted and face contorts in pleasure as he lets out a loud moan before you see thick sticky ropes of white land on your stomach, and settling on your pussy. he catches his breath while looking at the mess he made on your body. he looks up at you, offering you a smile before mouthing a ‘sorry’. his hand reaches down to move the strands of hair sticking on your face away, before leaning down to kiss you. you smile at him as he says “you’re mine now you know that right ?” your eyebrows quirk at his words, sure you’d wanna be his but you don’t quite get what he’s saying.

“good girls fuck one cock, you’re stuck with me”

taglist: @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @luckystrikerealness @themoonchildwhofell @fuckshitslover @radioloom @love-me-pls @szapizzapanda @khxna

divider creds: @rookthornesartistry

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queers-gambit · 11 months ago

Text

Simple, Easy, Effortless

prompt: ( requested ) from across the dance floor, Felix locks eyes with you and is instantly smitten. is it love at first sight? lust? he's determined to know.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 5.1k+

note: this man is a SLUT but i'm sluttier in theory

warnings: the ducklips in the gif, obviously cursing, sexual tension, "love at first sight", author def uses her own university roommate experiences for inspiration, Lord's name in vain, mention of illicit drug use. REMEMBER: don't run from cops unless with Felix - or absolutely necessary - or you KNOW you can get away.

song featured in the movie and request: Murder on the Dance Floor

Humid. Sweaty. Pulsing. Overpopulated.

All good adjectives to describe your first university party with your roommate, Polly Schwartz. She had already been to loads of parties already, probably more than her actual classes, but being as you were a "scholarship kid", you took your education much more seriously than she did. Perhaps being why you spent your weekends studying, and she spent hers getting drunk, sleeping with randoms constantly, and partying nearly every weekend. You didn't think there was anything wrong with her habts, in fact, you encouraged her to go out most of the time; but after midterms, you were burnt the fuck out and Polly recommended you have a night out with her.

When she needed it, you helped Polly study, and now, it was time for her to return the favor in her own area of expertise. Tonight's party was hosted in an off-campus flat, making you worry about the authorities being phoned, but Polly assured you that nearly the entire complex was composed of Oxford students and there was barely a threat of this party being busted.

The moment you stepped into the humid, sweaty, pulsing, overpopulated flat, a drink was shoved into your hand by a barely-standing boy with a nose ring. He was decently attractive, but the belch he let out made you grimace and follow after Polly. He might've yelled something after your retreating form, but who could tell with the noise level?

"You need to loosen up, bitch! Jesus Christ, you're as stiff as a board, and trust me! No guy is gonna wanna approach you!" She laughed, missing your protest that you didn't care for male attention. "Wait," she gasped, "where'd you get that?"

"Uh, that lad over there," you pointed, blinking in mild shock when she snatched the drink from your hand and poured it out in a dying houseplant.

"I thought you were the brains of us," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Never accept a drink you didn't see being made! That's how you get drugged!"

"I'm not sure how this is supposed to work, Polly, for fuck's sake," you whined, hugging your arms as you gazed around nervously. "Maybe I should just go back to the dorms, this isn't really my scene - "

"Nope, you're staying," she shook her head, leading you by the hand to the kitchen. "Here - hang on, I'll get us something. Farleigh, my love!"

The handsome lad with a head full of fluffed coils turned with a small glare, but softened when he noted Polly's appearance. "There you are! I was wondering when you'd get here, darling!"

She giggled obnoxiously and you understood, this must've been the lad she was seeing on-and-off for the whole semester. "Well, I finally got this one out of the library, so we're a little late for a reason," she laughed, pointing her thumb back at you and making the boy eye you with judgement.

You gave a small wave, and he instantly offered his hand, introducing himself as, "Farleigh." After giving him your name, Polly was insisting you both needed a drink and Farleigh was nodding in agreement. "Here, drinks are this way - but it's self serve."

"Nobody made juice?" Polly pouted, the three of you approaching a decent-sized table that was full of bottles of liquor and mixers.

"Not this time," Farleigh laughed, and you let Polly make your drink because you were busy trying not to get run over by the other party goers.

"Christ Almighty, surely the floors will cave in with this many people?" You frowned when another drunk bumped into you and sloppily apologized.

"Only if we're lucky," Farleigh laughed. He directed at Polly, "Oh, remember Stephen's party? Donovan put a hole through the wall!"

Polly laughed as she handed you a fresh drink and all but ignored you in favor of this boy that was tapping a bit of suspicious powder onto his hand. Your eyes rolled and you turned away from them, slowly stalking around the room and taking in the scene - hating the way your ears felt as if they were bleeding from the terrible music selection.

But after you skulled your drink, you ran into a few classmates from your anthropology class. "Here, you can have this," Chelsea took the drink from Cara, "she's had way too much already."

You figured this exchange was safe enough after seeing Cara taking several gulps; not even noticing her hands were empty because she was dancing to the floor-shaking music in a daze.

"Who're you here with?" Pablo asked, bobbing his head to the beat. "We all came as a group, don't tell me you're alone!?"

"No, no, love, I came with Polly," you shrugged, feeling looser than when you first got there.

"Ew," Pablo rolled his eyes, the other girl snickering.

"Wait, what? What am I missing?" You asked with a small whine.

"Polly Harrington?" He asked, watching you nod. "Yeah, no, your li'l friend's the one who sucked off Professor Lorde."

"What?" You gaped.

"Why do you think she's here?" He gossiped. "Surely, not for her grades."

You just shook your head, "Maybe we shouldn't throw stones, it's rude to speak about others behind their backs."

"Doll face, it's not like it's a secret," Pablo laughed, nodding at your drink. "C'mon, bottoms up, buttercup, we've gotta get you dancing. You look way too cute to be a wallflower all night, c'mon, let's go! Chug! Chug!"

You gingerly took a gulp, but Pablo and Chelsea were encouraging you to just finish it off. When you did, they cheered with pride, laughing when you began giggling, "That's the worst taste! God!"

"Oh, sweetie, we don't drink for the taste, we drink to make us better dancers!" Chelsea beamed. "Want mine?"

"No, no - "

"Down it!"

You shrugged, inhibitions already significantly lowered, and with ease, finished your third drink. "I should get us more!" Pablo laughed.

"You do that, we're gonna dance!" Your friend waved him off, snatching your hand, and leading you to the dance floor. It was hard to distinguish where it was since there was wall-to-wall college kids stuffing the place, but you weaseled your way between people and let the alcohol take control. "Hey! By the way!" Chelsea spoke in your ear, "You look really hot! I adore this skirt!"

"Me? Babe, look at you! Can I borrow this dress?"

"Only if I can borrow those shoes!" She squealed.

You giggled and took her hand, spinning her around before joining together again. When Pablo rejoined, he handed you both a drink before jumping in front of you, throwing his reasonably fat arse back into your crotch - which forced you back onto your girlfriend in a dancing train. You three cheered through your laughter, smacking the lad's bottom playfully as he put his heart and soul into his dance; hands on his knees and hips bouncing.

However, Pablo only pulled away when Farleigh reappeared and stole him away to a darkening corner; only briefly making you wonder where he had left your roommate. You looked at Chelsea, who giggled in your ear, "They've been fucking recently. Pablo's whipped."

"I don't blame him," you mused. Cara had stumbled closer to you two, throwing her skinny arms around your neck and starting on a drunken ramble about how much she loved you - despite only sharing the one class together and knowing each other from a distance. Still, you appreciated the sentiment and let yourself feel loved; taking a sip from the plastic solo cup in hand and swinging your hips to the pulsing beat. In that moment, you just happened to look up, gasping, "There's a stripper pole!?"

"Go get on it!" Cara laughed. "Oh, wait, Felix is on it - oh, shit, Felix!"

"Who?" You asked.

"Felix, you know!? Felix Catton? Felix fucking Catton!" Cara blinked, then offered you an incredulous look and turned to Chelsea. "She doesn't know Felix?"

She waved Cara off, instead explaining to you, "He's that tall lad, in the white button up."

When you looked, Felix happened to glance over and your eyes connected. You were absolutely done for.

"Oh, yeah, she knows Felix now!" Cara giggled loudly. "Go! Go talk to him!" She encouraged, making your eyes bug widely.

"What?" You looked at the two girls, shaking your head, "No, no, I don't even know him!"

"Babes, 75% of the people you see paired up right now didn't know each other before this party!" Cara rolled her pretty eyes. "But hey, if you don't, India definitely will. Girl basically lives on his cock, it's decently pathetic - but just look at him! God took his time with Felix!"

"Oh, are they dating?" You asked innocently, looking back over to the tall boy in a white, linen button up. He grinned at you from the short distance.

"No," Chelsea laughed, seeing the way you two just stared and smiled softly. "Here, finish your drink and let the liquid courage do its job!"

"It's literally my first party," you laughed, "I'm not interested - "

"Oh, fuck off! Everyone's interested in Felix," Cara interrupted. "And I do mean, literally everyone."

"I can understand why," you mused, taking a long pull from your cup. "Cara, that lad, there, has been staring at you," you distracted, her swinging around instantly and thanking you before dancing over to the boy leaning on the wall.

He smirked when she reached him.

"She's a social butterfly," her roommate, Chelsea, giggled. "Do you need a refill?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I'm okay!"

"Okay, don't go too far - I'll be right back!" She grinned, knowing something you didn't, and disappearing into the thick crowd.

You swallowed another drink before you felt a hand on your waist, making you jump in surprise and turn. Before you towered the object of seemingly everyone's desires: Felix Catton.

"Haven't seen you around before," he spoke in your ear over the music.

"Oh, first timer," you nodded back.

"Doin' all right? Yeah? Havin' fun?"

You agreed, "Yeah, 'course. This your party?"

"No, no, uh," he glanced around the heads of students, "honestly, I'm not really sure who's flat this is."

"Oh, well, I guess as long as it's not damaged, it doesn't matter much, right?"

"Exactly," he smirked, offering his cup to yours. You clinked them together, both taking the obligatory sip, and swaying unconsciously to the music. "Who're you here with?"

"Polly - "

"Oh, Christ, yeah! Yeah, you're, uh, you're her roommate?"

You nodded, "You know her?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Oh," you frowned in discomfort, brows pinched.

"No, no, I just meant, she's popular, innit she? Not that - that she's sucked me off or anything like that!"

You laughed, "Wasn't thinking that, but good to know."

His cheeks flared a bright red, "That was a bit brash of me, wasn't it? Sorry, love, I should know better than to use such vocabulary with a pretty lady."

Your eyes rolled, "This 'pretty lady' has both heard and used much worse vernacular."

Felix slowly grinned, "You want a smoke?"

"Dying for one actually, yeah."

"This way, c'mon," he offered his free hand, and without thinking, you accepted and let the tall, slender lad lead you through the crowd. All of a sudden, you felt as if every eye was on you - watching, stalking, clocking you like predator does prey. You were directed to a balcony, a few lingering smokers standing around.

The moment the glass door slid shut, the music was semi-silenced and you breathed in slight relief. "Christ, 's always this loud?" You asked, leaning on the railing beside your companion while rubbing an ear to relieve the ringing sensation.

"Usually, yeah," he smirked, handing you a cigarette before placing one between his lips.

"You looked real natural on that pole," you teased, leaning in when he flicked a lighter to life.

"Oh, God," he laughed, watching you inhale. "Saw that, did you?"

You hummed, holding the smoke in your lungs, "Kinda hard t'miss. You were really into it."

He shrugged, lighting the end of his own nicotine filled stick. Upon exhale, he eased, "Was a really good song, wasn't it? Easy t'dance to, you know?"

"Hm," you nodded, "actually, I wouldn't know - I don't know half these songs."

"You livin' under a rock, love?"

"No, just with my nose in a book."

"Smart girl, are yah?"

"I would hope so, considering my scholarship."

"Even more impressive," he grinned. "You know Oliver, then? Oliver Quick? He's on scholarship, too."

"No, not quite, us scholarship kids don't all know one another," you shot back with a smirk.

"Fair enough," he agreed, eyeing you up and down. "So, why tonight?"

"Hmm?"

"Why come tonight?"

"Polly thought I could use a little stress relief," you answered, taking a long puff. "Not exactly the way I saw my night going, though."

"How's that?"

"Look at you!" You laughed. "Of all the ladies here, you danced your way over to me? Now you're having a conversation instead of working that pole?"

"I like to think that I just had to introduce myself to the prettiest lass in the whole joint," he flirted.

"And yet," you inhaled, "you've haven't made introductions."

"No? I haven't?" He smirked, watching your head shake. "Apologies, love. I'm Felix, uh, Felix Catton," he offered his hand, and when you shook it, you told him your own full name. "Now that that's outta the way," he took his own inhale, "how's about we go dance?"

"Oh, I might need to finish this drink before all that," you lifted your cup to your lips.

"Nah, I saw you earlier," he chuckled, stomping his cigarette out under his boot. "C'mon, love, not letting you get outta here without at least one dance."

"Surely, India would be a better option?"

He scoffed, "Oh? And how would you know that?"

"Chelsea and Cara might've made mention earlier. I wouldn't want to steal someone's man - girl code, and that shit."

For whatever reason, this made Felix snicker, "No, no, you've got it wrong, India and I are just friends."

"That's what guys say when they're sleeping with their 'friend'."

"Either way, she's not my girl," he smirked. "C'mon, love, one dance. If you're not convinced after that, I'll let yah go - no fuss."

"Oh, well, that doesn't sound remotely creepy," you laughed, dropping your own cigarette and stomping it out. "All right, yeah, one dance."

"Just one."

"A single dance."

"No more, but no less," he smirked, lacing your fingers together when you laid your hand in his. "Deal?"

You nodded, feeling absolutely giddy by his attention. When you reentered the party, it was almost as if it had grown in population, and suddenly, you wanted to be back on the balcony just to breathe. But Felix had a secure hold on you, and after downing the last of your drink, you set the cup on a random end table you passed before taking position on the "dance floor".

What you absolutely did not anticipate was that Felix wasn't the best dancer, but holy shit, did he not care; letting go and having fun. You let the alcohol in your system propel you, and soon, one dance turned into two, and two turned to three. It was like nobody else was there, it was just you and Felix; dancing like fools, letting your hair down, and you actually found yourself enjoying the music that vibrated the entire flat.

The song that played wasn't one you recognized, but the lyrics felt strangely appropriate for your current situation. Though there was no groove to be killed, no moves to steal, and no murdering on this dance floor, there was a whole lotta tension that fueled your movements together.

"Oh, oh, here we go, c'mon!" He laughed, tugging your hand after him to approach the stripper pole the flat's owner had installed. "Go on, love, show me how it's done!"

"Oh, fuck no!" You barked in laughter. "You're the master, let me take notes."

"I'll warn you, once you see my moves up close," he planted a hand on the pole and swung around it once, "you won't be able to resist!"

You waved him on, eyes widening when he danced around the pole as if nobody was watching, but in reality, he had an entire audience. Not that you noticed, you were solely focused on the boy putting on a show for you; both wearing goofy grins. When he got REALLY into it, you had to admit your stomach knotted in attraction when his lips pushed into a slutty pout. Never had you wanted to kiss someone so bad in your life before, but it increased ten fold when he swung around and grabbed onto your waist; effortlessly pushing you onto the pole as he released it.

"C'mon, then!" He beamed, watching you stand for a single awkward moment before figuring, why the hell not?

So, you swung yourself around before shocking Felix to his bloody core by holding the pole and grinding down it - giving a teasing peek at your panties when your legs spread slightly to accommodate your dance moves. His jaw slackened, eyes raked up and down your form, lips pulling in a smirk the longer he watched you go. Your hair flung around, hips gyrated in movements that made his pants tighten, and when he couldn't stand it any longer, he caught you in another swing.

Hips against yours, arms around one another, he danced you back onto the crowded floor; a hand raising to caress the side of your face as if he was mesmerized by all you were, all you are.

It was so simple to lose yourself in his dancing, in his scent, in his aurora. It was so easy to move against him. It was so simple to exist with Felix fucking Catton.

He was intoxicating, making you feel more drunk on him than the alcohol you had ingested. And while the moment felt serious, once you were surrounded by peers again, you melted into a sense of silliness. Any care you had, any worry - it all melted away, it evaporated, got swept under the rug because Felix commandeered your entire attention.

From the side of the room, Cara and Chelsea squealed in excitement for you, high-fiving when they noted India's jealous glare. Farleigh and Pablo even snickered, wondering how long it would take for Felix's charm to get you into bed; a bet being placed between the two lads before taking another bump of cocaine that distracted them for the rest of the time.

On the dance floor, your laughter was genuine and a little loud when he swung you around before dying in your throat when he pulled you in close. Again, the party melted away and it was just you and Felix; his hands on your hips, head bowed to corral you close, his warm brown eyes intense as they flitted between your eyes and lips.

You knew what he wanted, but didn't want to give into temptation yet. Keeping an air of mystery, you smiled coyly and pushed back slightly - but he was yanking you right back in.

When a friend of his came around with a tray full of shots, his arm coiled around your waist tightly to keep you anchored as he accepted the Jell-O concoction. You still buzzed from your earlier drinks and nicotine, bobbing and humming to the song playing, Felix instantly moving with you.

And just like you worried earlier, from deep in the party, someone shouted, "IT'S THE FUZZ! GO! SCATTER!"

"Oh, shit! Oh, my God!" You gasped in worry, the music cutting and students rushing for the exit.

"C'mere, c'mere, 's all right," Felix rushed, pulling you back into a wall to let the stampede rush around you as he planted you in front of him. Your hands held his waist, watching those around you run away, and when you looked up, Felix was already staring at you.

The moment your eyes met, you both snickered in amusement before bursting into full-on laughter. "Oh, Jesus Christ!" You mused, leaning your forehead to his pectoral. "I knew it - of course my first party is busted, hey?"

"Just makes it all the more memorable, yeah?"

"You were doing a pretty good job on your own with that," you met his gaze again - feeling coy and playful.

"Yeah?" He grinned. "Well, I try."

"I think you succeed."

He opened his mouth to respond, caressing your cheek, but someone else shouted, "GO, GO, GO! Felix, c'mon, mate! The fuck you doin'! We gotta go! I can't get another citation!"

"Let's go," he told you instead, lacing your hands together again and joining the last of the stream filtering out of the flat.

"Where're we - "

"This way, trust me," he dodged down a separate hallway, a few others following his lead. Down a flight of stairs, turning down another hall, and you two were bursting into the chilly night air.

The lights of the copper's cars flashed from around the building and you realized you were at the back. Others were rushing from the door, scattering into the night, but Felix just leaned on the brownstone and waited, checking your surroundings.

"What now?" You worried, panting lightly from the rush of adrenaline.

"We go that way," he nodded, "walk slow and calm, we don't know shit about a party. We're just walking back to campus, yeah?"

"Oh, like that'll work," you snickered, but again, laced your hands together. "On your lead, my lord," you joked.

"That make you my lady?"

"Hm, nah," you refused with a smirk, "I don't do well with sharing and you seem to be well liked, aren't yah?"

He hummed, letting go of your hand to toss his arm around your neck, still subtly checking around you for any police officers. Your arm latched around his waist, reaching up to hold the hand dangling from your shoulders. "I might be well liked, but for you, I'd drop everyone," he flirted easily - as if second nature, as if he didn't even have to think about the words that oozed out of that slick mouth.

"Oh, how flattering."

"I would hope so," he breathed, leading you out of the back garden. "Swear, love, never been so caught-up before. Just saw you and had t'come talk - had t'know who you are. I mean, just look at'cha, sweetheart, can you really blame me?"

"That line usually works, does it?"

"More often than not," he laughed, you joining in as you slipped from the back gate.

"HEY! YOU TWO! STOP RIGHT THERE! STOP!"

"Oh, shit," Felix gasped, snatching your hand in an instant as two officers started to clumsily rush towards you two.

"What do we - "

"Run!" He laughed, yanking you after him.

"Felix!"

"HEY! STOP! STOP! COME BACK HERE!"

You couldn't stop laughing as you both sprinted down the street and around an alley, taking three more turns before coming to a panting halt; pausing to listen.

"Hear 'em?" He whispered, keeping you on the inside so he could peer down the alley you had escaped down.

"No...?"

"I don't either," he nodded, glancing down at you and chuckling. "You're fast, you on the track team?"

"Oh, please, you should be fast when running from the law, shouldn't you?"

"Knew I liked you," he barked in humor. "C'mon, love, 's a nice night, innit it?"

"Nice night for what? Breaking laws?"

"Well, yeah, but I meant for a walk," he mused, walking backwards, snagging both your hands in his to pull you off the wall you were hiding behind. "It's a bit of a hike back to campus, might as well make the most of it," he smiled, turning to keep pace beside you with his arm around your waist. "Not every night I get t'walk in the moonlight with a beautiful lass."

You pulled his arm up to your shoulders again, holding his waist comfortably, and being as you weren't familiar with the area, trusting him to lead you back. After a beat, you admitted in a sigh, "You know, tonight wasn't what I expected and yet, it's exactly what I thought."

"Was it better or worse than you could've planned?"

You laughed, "Well, running from the cops wasn't on my bingo card."

"How's it feel? 'T be such a bad girl?"

"You tell me."

Felix laughed, "Ah, love, not my first time, but it's just as exhilarating."

"Jesus," you rolled your eyes in humor. "Not exactly what I wanted to hear, you having other run-ins with officers."

"Oh, you like it!"

"I might," you agreed, stepping onto the sidewalk of a main street. "Oh, shit, oh, my God!" You halted, looking nervous and frantic. "I left Polly! Fuck!"

"Nah, nah, nah, don't worry, love, I saw her leave earlier while we were dancing."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, she left with Johnny."

"Who the fuck is Johnny?"

He grinned, "Yeah, that's it, you're hanging with me from now on. We'll get you aquatinted with your classmates, yeah?"

"Maybe I have no want nor need to know people," you spoke softly. "I'm here for an education, not t’socialize."

"Doesn't hurt though, does it?"

"After tonight? I don't know if you can make that case."

"You seriously telling me you didn't have fun? Oh, sweetheart, that hurts. I'm hurt, honestly," he pouted dramatically, free hand to his heart; glittering gold ring winking at you under the street lamps.

"What's that?" You asked, alcohol making you easily distracted. He glanced at his hand and held it out for you, showing his ring. "What's the design? It's real pretty - didn't think I'd see it on a guy."

He chuckled, "Ah, it's a signet - my family's signet, actually."

"Jesus, I knew it," you groaned. "No way you were just a regular somebody! A bloody signet? What? Related t'the Queen, are yah?"

"No, not exactly," he snorted. "But my father is knighted..."

"Holy shit," you blinked. "What's that like?"

He looked down at you, brows slowly furrowing, "You really wanna know? Most people just, I don't know, kinda assume I'm rich and that's all there is to my life."

You felt a single pang of empathy, smiling up at him, "I really wanna know, Felix. C'mon, what's your family do? Both parents still alive? They still married? Where's home?"

For the entire walk back to campus, you and Felix talked as if old friends. Sure, you were getting to know each other, but it felt as if you'd known one another for ages by how easy it was to talk to him. And he seemed enthralled by your questions; wondering about his life, not just the pretty face he bore. Not just the money to his name. You seemed genuinely curious as to who "Felix Catton" was... Something he hadn't known his entire time at Oxford.

When you got back to your dorm, you felt sad by the idea of parting ways, something that genuinely shocked you. Yet the obscene sounds from behind the thin, wooden door alerted you to Polly and her guest, making you pause and sigh. "Well, that's awkward," you mused, leaning on the opposite wall. "Uh, thanks for walking me back, but I'm just gonna crash in the common room."

"Oh, bollocks to that, love," he shook his head, offering his hand again. "C'mon, you can crash with me."

"Hm, sounds sketchy."

"Oh? How's that?" He laughed.

"We just met!"

"C'mon, sweetheart, it's just a bed t'sleep in. Promise, nothing's gonna happen - even if you beg."

"Oh, what a gentleman," you laughed, much to his amusement. "All right, yeah... If I can borrow something to sleep in? Not entirely comfortable sleepin' in this..."

"I've gotcha," he nodded, leading you from your dorm and to his. Which, to your surprise, was the housing beside your own.

"Oh, Felix, NO!" You gaped when you entered his room. "Oh, darling, no, no, no, what's this?"

"It's not that bad - "

"No, I'm talking that!" You laughed, not phased by the mess, pointing to the Manchester football flag. "Don't tell me - "

"Nah, hey, don't do that, 's my father's team," he chuckled. "It reminds me to watch, gives us something t'talk about..."

You cooed, "Well, that's actually sweet of you. I guess I can let it slide."

"Oh, you're a saint."

He tossed you clean boxers and a tee shirt, letting you change in the adjoining restroom as he quickly changed in the bedroom. When you joined him again, you both got comfortable on the bed, but sleep evaded you... Leading into a long night of chatter, jokes, and establishing friendship that would eventually turn romantic.

But for that night, it was simple. It was easy. It was effortless.

You both crashed around 4 am, and when you woke the following afternoon, your head was on his chest, his arm tight around your waist, and there wasn't a single concern in your heart or head.

"Jesus, fuck," Felix groaned when he woke, tightening his arm to constrict you against his warm body on the teeny, tiny dorm bed. "Ah, Christ, remind me not t'drink again, yeah, love?"

"You and me, both," you grumbled, nestling closer.

He sighed, "Yah hungry?"

"A bit."

"Wanna go t'yours, change, get something t'eat?" He offered, rubbing your waist. "C'mon, my treat."

You lifted your head to check his bedside clock, grunting as you laid back down, "It's past noon."

"So? Stomachs don't open or close."

You let your chin prop on his chest, smiling, "Food sounds nice."

He nodded, eyes once more dancing between yours. "Know, you look real good in my clothes. Might have t'let you keep it."

"Much appreciated, pretty boy. C'mon, food helps with the hangover, doesn't it?"

"Very much," he nodded, reaching for his cigarettes. "Hmm?" He offered.

"Mhm," you accepted, both settling on your backs, but he pulled you in close to light your stick. "You always like this?" You whispered, smoking swirling in the air above you.

"What's that?"

"Charismatic?"

"Ah, if I could turn it off... Well, bein' honest, I wouldn't."

"Oh, shove off," you both laughed lightly at your words, looking up at him. He seemed ethereal in the morning light, and then - it happened. He set his cigarette to an ashtray to free his hand, caressing your cheek and making you go still.

"Would you think less of me if I kiss you?"

"I'd think less if you didn't, I think..."

He smirked and curled over, lips finding yours in a searing, breathtaking kiss that tasted like the previous night's alcohol. Yet he still tasted so pleasantly spicy and unique, making you inhale sharply and hold onto the back of his neck to keep him close. He hummed lightly, tongues swirling like the smoke that still hung in the air, and when he pulled back, again, you both just laughed lightly before he was swooping in for another kiss.

It was like I said... Simple, easy, effortless.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

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huramuna · 11 months ago

Text

downpour - oneshot.

modern aegon ii targaryen x nanny reader minors dni, you will be smited.

this is for @targaryen-dynasty sleepover challenge 🤭 i got the babysitter au + the prompt 'why so shy?' i had so much fun with this, modern aegon is a menace and also a sopping wet cat.

word count: 4.5k

content: smutty smut smut (specifics under cut), aegon being a little shit (we love it), saltburn spoilers (lol), allusions to drug / alcohol abuse and rehabilitation, mullet aegon, jaehaera and jaehaerys are hel's kids but they have an unnamed / unrelated father, gratuitous use of song lyrics, probably a touch of power imbalance because of her job

murder on the dance floor - sophie ellis-bexter

warnings: oral (m receiving), face slapping w/ cock, degradation, dirty talk (this man never shuts up), face fucking / deepthroat, cum on face

“Jaehaerys! Jaehaera! Please don’t run in the house with muddy boots!” you called fervently, trying to collapse the umbrella with one hand, two teddy bears slung in the other.

“We won’t!” they both called in unison, followed by the unmistakable sound of muddy galoshes squeaking over the marble floor. You suppressed the urge to groan as you entered the exquisite home through the french doors that led to the backyard.

“Boots off, little ones!” you called again, kicking off your own shoes in a haste to catch the gremlins before they tracked grime all over madam Alicent’s home. You had been working at the Targaryen estate for the better part of a year as a live-in nanny for Lady Alicent’s two grandchildren– twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. It was a wonderful job for the most part, as the twins were a delight and you had grown to have a strong friendship with their mother, Helaena. She was a bit dreamy-eyed and wistful, but was a wonderful mother nonetheless, even if she did have her melancholic days.

The estate was huge and ancient, passed down from generations through Helaena’s father’s side, which was apparently a near royal bloodline from days long foregone. Viserys Targaryen, the father in question, was hardly ever home. He managed the family business (whatever it may be, you didn’t find it in you to ask– all you knew is that they were dirty rich) with his other daughter, Rhaenyra, from his first marriage. He had four children with Alicent, Helaena being the only one of the brood to still live at home.

You’d met two of the others as well; Aemond, a lawyer in the family business who was, in short, all business and no play. He never regarded you, really, besides a quick glance or stiff nod. He had, however, slipped you a eight-thousand dollar bonus at Christmas time with a simple card that read;

Thank you for taking care of the twins and my sister. And keeping my mother sane.

- A.T

The other sibling, Daeron, was the youngest of the bunch, visited usually during holidays, as he constantly was studying abroad. ‘Sowing his wild oats’, as Helaena had put it. He was cordial to you and very much had a boyish charm, and Helaena loved to joke that he had a crush on you. When he had come home for New Year’s, he brought you a souvenir from Iceland, an authentic lopapeysa sweater, made from wool and sewn with a beautiful geometric design.

“Awh, Daeron wants you to stay warm, lovey,” Helaena teased.

“I-It’s just– her hands are always so cold, a-and the wool is supposed to help keep warm! The inner layer is insulating.” Daeron had stammered, the tips of his ears growing red.

“Uncle Daeron has a brush!” Jaehaera squeaked, her words whistling through her tooth gap, she’d lost her first baby tooth just the week before.

“A crush, he’s got a crush!” Jaehaerys corrected softly.

Alicent thought the whole thing very amusing.

That left one child you hadn’t met. You didn’t know much about him aside from small bits of conversation you’d picked up on between the rest of the family. Aegon. The eldest of all of them, and apparently the troublemaker of the bunch. You knew what he looked like from the portraits– blonde hair like the rest but with severely more bags under his eyes. Upon entering the home, one would see the chronological order of family portraits.

It starts with Viserys, Alicent, and baby Aegon; the latter of whom is happy and chubby and bubbly.

Then, it moves to the three of them, plus baby Helaena, with her wide blue-eyed stare at the camera. Aegon is still happy.

The next one adds the addition of baby Aemond– there is a glint of sentience in Aegon’s eyes, but he hasn’t experienced the crushing blows of reality yet.

You weren’t exactly sure, but as he got older, he became more morose– more bags, less light in his eyes. Then came the ear piercings, the tattoos, the head shaving, the bloodshot in the whites of his eyes. The portraits ended with this past year’s Christmas photo. Aegon was noticeably missing from it. You’d heard during one of Alicent’s phone conversations with her father that Aegon was in rehabilitation for a myriad of issues, and looking at his photos, you could only guess which one was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

A particularly harsh clap of thunder broke you from your thoughts, coming back to yourself. You scooped up Jaehaera before she stepped on the carpet with the muddy shoes. “C’mon, let's get cleaned up for lunch, yeah? What do we want for lunch today, lovies?”

“Grilled cheese n’ tomato soup.”

“No! I want mac n’ cheese.”

The squabbling ensued, the twins arguing back and forth for a few moments before you butt in. “Alright, how about– whoever gets the floor the cleanest and puts their galoshes by the washroom the fastest gets to pick?”

The twins squealed in delight as they absconded from your sight, effectively going to do your bidding for you. You would, however, just end up making both meals anyway. As you moved to the kitchen, the sound of the doorbell rang. You bustled to the door, not sure who to expect– there weren’t many roving visitors in and out of the estate unless Alicent was explicitly expecting company– which you had triple checked the calendar when you woke up that morning.

You opened the door, expecting to see a debutante or someone of Alicent’s social circle– ‘twas not the case. You recognized him immediately, seeing his mother’s face in his own. Aegon. He was muddy, dirt flecks splashed on his face as he stood under the stoop trying to get away from the pouring rain. His face was a bit healthier than you’d seen it, the dark circles were still there, but not as prominent. It was like a gloomy day, rather than a full blown storm under his eyes. He had the wisps of a beard starting on his jawline, and his hair was cut into a makeshift mullet, longer in the back.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, hands in his pockets.

“Erm– the… the nanny. For the children.” you stammered, his tone catching you off guard. You glanced behind him, seeing a beat up dirt bike caked in mud– that was probably how he got here.

“A nanny? You’re a bit young for that, yeah? My nanny’s were all wrinkly old prunes.”

“Oh– uhm, come in, Mr. Targaryen.”

He perked a brow at the name, but didn’t say anything. He beat the bottom of his boots on the doormat, which didn’t accomplish much. He immediately began to track mud on the floor. “Mum home? Hel?”

“Lady Alicent is… upstairs,” you offered, following behind him at a quick pace. “Helaena is taking a nap– the storm–”

“Yeah, I know ‘bout Hel’s issues with storms. Don’t need to tell me twice. So, you got a name, or are you just the nanny?”

You gave him your name as you glanced at the clock– it was almost time for the children’s lunch and you hadn’t even put it on the stove yet!

“Got any food around here? Fuckin’ famished.” he added then as he nosed around the kitchen, hands still in his pockets.

“I’m just about to make lunch for the twins– uhm, I can make you something too if you’d like.” you walked past him, quickly putting some pots on the stove and starting the gas. You and the twins were on a strict schedule, and if they didn’t get their lunch on time, they would turn into hellions.

“Sure. Whatever the kids are having. I’m not picky.” Aegon waved his hand behind his head as he disappeared from the kitchen and clomped up the stairs, likely to speak with his mother. You fretted for Alicent’s mental state once that was done, and you felt even guiltier for not giving her a heads up.

As the tomato soup heated on the stove and the water began to boil for the macaroni, you unlocked your phone– you were curious about Aegon and why he’d come back, exactly. Well, of course, besides the fact that he lived here (or did, at some point) he was still supposed to be in rehab for another three months. You went to instagram, rolling your eyes as you saw that his profile was on ‘suggested for you to follow!’

You clicked to his most recent photo, the first that he’d posted in over a year.

“Jesus christ,” you muttered under your breath as you put down your phone on the counter to stir the soup.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Aegon teased behind you. When the fuck had he gotten there? “Soup n’ mac and cheese?”

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese for Jaehaera, mac and cheese for Jaehaerys.” you responded plainly, trying not to notice that he was practically breathing down your neck. You glanced over as he leaned on the counter, where you had left your phone. Unlocked. Like an idiot. On his instagram page.

“Curious about me, are you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard enough about me from my mum.”

“I don’t like to pry into Lady Alicent’s affairs–”

“I wouldn’t consider myself an affair, more like a one time fling, eh?” Aegon snorted, grabbing your phone. It took every fiber of your being to not break all sense of decorum you held to snatch it back from him. “You’re not following me– let’s change that,” he mused, beginning to scroll through your page now. “Lots of pictures of the kids here– ooh, a trip to the seaside. There’s no pictures of you on here, eh? Only of… my family n’ other stupid shit, like the ocean.”

“I’m a live-in nanny, sir,” you grit out, stirring the soup with more force than necessary. You consider yourself a patient person, and have become accustomed to how people in the Targaryen’s circle made their jabs. High society and filthy rich people had their own language of insults– ones that you wouldn’t realize they were insulting you until much, much later. It was like a game with a slow burning poison. But Aegon, apparently, was different. There was nothing meticulous about his jabs, no filter, no slow burning poison. It was all punch and sting, like a bite from a rabid dog rather than a viper. “I usually attend family trips.”

“Live-in, huh?” he drawled, his arm leaning over the counter in such a laissez-faire manner that you could feel yourself scowling. “Don’t get much action then, I take it? Let’s see if there’s any nudie judies on here, then…”

“N-no!” you broke then, all sense of manners flying out of your body as you struggled to take back your phone.

“Why so shy? Got something on here you don’t want me to see?” he staved you off, a hand planted firmly on your shoulder as he scrolled through your photos, making all sorts of gaudy faces. You didn’t really have anything overtly scandalous, maybe a few lingerie shots for an old boyfriend.

“Aegon, leave her alone. Give her back her phone.” Alicent’s voice cut through the room like a knife, stunning both of you.

He sheepishly gave you back your phone as she crooked a finger to her son, ushering him to a room on the farther side of the house.

As you fed the twins their lunch, you overheard some yelling, arguing and heated voices. You only saw Aegon later when going to your room to get ready for bed. His eyes were teary and red.

—

The next few weeks went by with some normalcy— everything was as usual, except it was like you had a third child to care for; Aegon. Except this child didn’t listen at all and had terrible habits. He was constantly flirting with you, but also would weave in jabs at the same time— you couldn’t quite tell if he even liked you or not. Not that it mattered, anyway.

You were sneaking in your own lunch one afternoon, eating scraps from the twin’s lunch while they napped— basically just the crust you cut off of the grilled cheese and the small bit of soup left in the pot.

“You eat like a mouse.” Aegon said, always managing to be there to annoy you.

“Too much food makes me tired— I won’t be able to keep up with them if I’m sluggish.”

“Could always drink a red bull or a monster, instead.” he offered, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it in the kitchen.

“You shouldn’t do that inside. It’s bad for the children’s lungs. Lady Alicent says—,”

“Well, it’s my fuckin’ house too, innit? I can smoke in here if I well and bloody like,” he growled, exhaling a puff of smoke into your face. “My mum must be paying you extra to be my nanny too, then? The way you’re up my ass all the time.” he flicked ash in your direction.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest. He was goading you, baiting you into a reaction. He was being insufferable on purpose. You could tell by his pearly white smile he currently had plastered to his face, like a smug little—

“Never had a nanny so pretty, though,” he continued. “If I asked real nice, would you feed me soup? Dress me up? Give me a bath if I’m real dirty?” he got closer and you could smell him— the smell of marlboro reds and cheap aftershave that had become synonymous with Aegon blew out your senses until it was all consuming.

Your mouth parted as you tried to think of some witty response, some barb, some jab— but nothing came out. You just huffed and turned away from him in an attempt to hide your red cheeks. Why were you blushing?

You could practically hear the cockiness ooze from him, his mouth perked into a cheeky smile as he stole one of the crusts. He knew he’d gotten to you.

—

It’d now been over a month since Aegon moved back home and the building tension between you two hadn’t let up a bit— you constantly felt trapped and elated all at once. When you saw him, your chest fluttered slightly in anxiety and anticipation. What was wrong with you?

It was a dark, gloomy day. The seasonal storms were in full swing, pelting the estate in rain and hail. Alicent, Helaena, and the twins were out on an escapade to Alicent’s father’s house— you guessed Aegon hadn’t gone. But, it was a huge house, so surely you could enjoy some of your time off without seeing him?

A rumble of thunder shook the house, rattling its constitution— and then the lights flickered. Flickered… flickered… then… out. It was dark, then, even with your window shades open. You turned on your phone flashlight and tiptoed out of your room, going to see if perhaps you could smack the backup generator into working.

You hadn’t expected to work today, nor see anyone, as Alicent had given you the day off. So, you were subsequently dressed in your pajamas— a hilariously oversized Bass Pro Shop shirt (a gift from your dad in America) and cat-patterned sleeping shorts. Your toes cracked and creeped on the floorboards with each movement, and to your chagrin, as you passed Aegon’s door, it opened. He was wearing a shirt that said “MILF: Man I love Fishing”, with just his boxer briefs on, which didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“Oh. You’re still here.”

“Yes?”

“Sorry, thought you were gone with the rest. Sad, I can’t do the Saltburn thing now.”

“The… what?”

“The Saltburn thing? Dance around the empty mansion to myself with my cock out.”

“What.” you responded with the most deadpan tone.

“Dance… with my cock out?” he repeated.

“No– I know what you said– but why?”

“Why not?”

You rolled your eyes, shifting the conversation. “So, the power is out– uhm, do you know where the backup generator is?”

“In the wine cellar. Nifty, huh?”

“... the… wine cellar. I can’t say I’ve been down there yet.”

“I know it like the back of my hand, c’mon then. I’m sure I can kick the old gen in the nads and get it to work.” Aegon said with surprising confidence, turning on his phone’s flashlight and half blinding you.

You followed behind him, to which he hummed ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ while doing a half-assed dance, apparently from some movie that was definitely something you hadn’t watched– you don’t remember the last time you watched a movie that wasn’t geared towards the twins.

“So basically… he had the whole mansion to himself, and then he dances through it with his cock out, hanging massive brain, y’know? It's murder on the dance floor, you better not kill the groove,” he imitates the dance, sprawling his arms out in the doorway to the wine cellar and shaking his bottom a bit, which was, admittedly, nicely fit in his snug boxer briefs. You felt a strange heat flush to your cheeks.

“And this… is a… what? Comedy?”

“Well, categorically no– I’m not a film aficionado. I guess it could be considered a psychological thriller, but I thought it was pretty funny,” he stopped before continuing into the cellar. “It gets pretty hairy in here, so stick close, okay? Ever seen The Conjuring?”

“... yes, actually. Horror movies are kind of my favorite.”

“Ah, a girl after my own heart,” he mused. “Well, think of the basement in that movie, but instead of a bunch of old useless shit, it’s a bunch of old wine.”

“And… instead of ghosts?”

“Oh, there’s definitely ghosts.”

“... what.”

“Yeah, estate is haunted. You haven’t noticed?”

“Shut up.” you murmured. You were a huge fan of horror movies while simultaneously being a huge chicken shit when it came to scary things– you were prone to hiding your face before the big jumpscare or running up the stairs from the kitchen when it was dark, just in case something was chasing you– and your feet had to be covered by the blanket at all times when sleeping.

“Aww, you scared?” Aegon teased, turning to you.

“I mean– ghosts are scary. Of course!” you offered sheepishly, pulling up the collar of your oversized shirt to cover your nose and mouth in an almost hiding manner– a nervous habit of yours.

“I’ll keep you safe, love, no worries about that.”

“... that’s what they always say, right? Then they totally leave behind their girlfriends to get stabbed by the killer or… eaten by the monster.”

“You my girlfriend now?” he asked, that stupidly annoying and somehow charming smug energy exuding off of him in waves.

“Shut up.” you grumbled as you both approached the generator. It was covered in dust and hadn’t been touched or tended to in a long time, it looked like. “Do… you know what you’re doing?” you asked Aegon tentatively, watching as he inspected it.

“Me? Oh, fuck no. I never know what I’m doing, honestly,” he shrugged, giving the metal box a kick and haphazardly pressing some buttons. “No dice, sweetheart. ‘Spose you’ll have to dance in the dark with me for a bit longer, huh? But, if there's a ghost, you'll be... ghost food, or whatever.”

You pinched your brow in annoyance. “I don’t understand you.”

“What’s there to understand? I’m a pretty open book, you know.”

“No– you aren’t. You flirt with me but also… insult me? I don’t get it.”

“It’s called teasing– picking? Picking on? Getting the goat?”

“What? So, like a little boy pulling a girl’s pigtails on the playground because he likes her? That makes absolutely no sense, Aegon.”

“If you spend your time trying to find a reason for it, you’ll go insane. Why not just enjoy the point of it? I like you.” he breathed, suddenly very close to you. He set his phone aside on top of the generator, flashlight up. It illuminated the walls of wine and cast shadows of cobwebs and dust all around the both of you.

“What?”

“Are you deaf– I. Like. You.” he repeated, his knees bumping yours as you were practically glued together, your back now against the ancient stone wall.

Your lips parted as you inhaled a breath– okay, you weren’t exactly expecting him to say that, or even like you at all– you figured the flirting was all hot air, a defense mechanism, something for fun, not… real. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you became all too aware of the fact that you hadn’t been touched since you got this job, maybe even before that– and your previous boyfriends never made you feel… flustered like this. You couldn’t form words as he, uncharacteristically cautiously, put his hand on your cheek. He was so close, so close– his body heat mingled with your inherent coldness and warmed you instantly. You weren’t sure what came over you, but you leaned forward, slotting your lips against his. What the actual fuck were you doing– you were kissing your boss’ son, her notoriously bad mannered, foul mouthed, sloven slob of a son, and you liked it. Your hand instantly went to the back of his head, fingers grazing through his choppy curls– even giving them an experimental tug, which he seemed to enjoy, by the indication of something poking you in your thigh.

His lips moved against yours like a dance, and you couldn’t get the fucking song he was singing earlier out of your head– It’s murder on the dancefloor– you grasped at his hip, it was fleshy and pleasant, the tips of your finger slipping under the elastic of his briefs– But you better not kill the groove– his hands were exploring, too, under your stupid Bass Pro shop shirt, groping at your breasts with reckless abandon – If you think you're getting away, I will prove you wrong – the heat rose in your body until you couldn’t take it any longer, the two of you were practically eating each other alive in this dank, dusty cellar and it was undoubtedly the hottest experience of your life – I'll take you all the way, boy, just come along – your lips parted for a moment, still connected by a string of saliva, bridging the gap between the two of you – Hear me when I say, hey –

“On your knees for me, love?” he asked, his voice suddenly so deep and husky, his thumb skimming over your collarbone.

You fell to your knees for him so quickly– how pathetic. He wriggled down his briefs, already leaking at the fat tip of his cock. He wasn’t overly long, but he was girthy, like a beer can. Your eyes widened, which he must’ve noticed, as his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin. Your mind immediately went to an image of a so-called ‘American delicacy’ (your father’s words, not yours) called Beer can chicken, in which a can of beer is shoved in the ass end of a chicken and grilled. It is apparently as delicious as it is horrifying. Your throat bobbed as you surveyed it, a tentative hand around the base. He shook his head, prying your hand from him.

“Nope, mouth only. Open up, be a good girl.” Aegon muttered, looking down at you, the light of his phone flashlight illuminating him from below– he looked like a God. Or maybe a devil.

Your mouth parted as his hand guided you forward. You wholly expected him to nestle in your mouth, but he surprised you with a slap to your face with his cock. It didn’t hurt, just caused you to yelp in surprise. He smeared some of the pre-come across your cheek, then slapped the head of his length on your waiting tongue. It was somewhat degrading, what he was doing– but it lit a goddamn fire under your ass, the neurons of depravity in your body, wherever they may lie, were alight with each nasty little gesture Aegon gave you, before he finally slid home. It stretched out your mouth, prodding at the back of your throat.

“What would everyone else think, hm? If they knew you were such a fuckin’ slut.” he growled, gathering your hair in his fist like it owed him money, beginning to fuck himself into your mouth, careful to pay attention to your body language to make sure he wasn’t working you over too much. He made sure to be extra careful with his toys, rather than break them.

Tears welled, spilling down your face as you let him use you, degrade you– and yet, he also praised you.

“–such a good girl for me–”

“–you can take a little more, there you go–”

“–prettiest throat I’ve ever fucked–”

You felt like you were on fire, set ablaze by arousal you’d never experienced before– was this what they sang songs about? Dirty, borderline pornographic songs but the point still stood.

You had to chalk it up to the barometric pressure of the storm, right? Aegon wasn’t your type— your type was… well-adjusted, non-addicts, non-bad boy, non-troublemakers. Aegon was the antithesis of what you were into.

And yet— you were into him. You were into him in a pathetic, pitiful way. It made you cringe to think about but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes, nor could you forget the way he was whimpering— fucking whimpering! You squeezed your thighs together slightly at the sound of it, at the blurry-eyed, teary sight of him looking down at you on your knees, eyes half lidded.

He pulled out with a particularly throaty grunt, painting your face in his unnaturally warm seed, somehow careful enough not to get it in your eyes– small mercies. Your lungs inflated with oxygen once more as you caught your breath, trying to gather yourself. You felt the swathe of cloth over your face as Aegon cleaned you up with his ‘MILF: Man I Love Fishing’ shirt, which he had apparently taken off.

“You good?”

You nodded slowly as he helped you to your feet, brushing off your knees with the clean part of his shirt.

“Um– so,” he still held onto you, as if he was afraid you’d run away. “Do you want to watch a movie with me later, when the power is back on? Like, actually watch it– I won’t fuck your face, I promise.”

“... are you asking me on a date?”

“Umm… yeah. I think.”

“Maybe we could watch Saltburn?” you offered with a shrug.

–

“Your mum texted me,” you whispered. “The bridge is temporarily washed out from the storm, they won’t be back ‘til tomorrow.”

“Do you know what that means?” Aegon said, suddenly giddy. You both had just finished watching Saltburn, and you finally understood what the ‘Saltburn thing’ was.

“You know your mum has like ten security cameras set up around the house, right?”

“Okay… and?”

“I’m not dancing naked in the hallway, Aegon.”

“How about just in my room? Please?”

You gave a sigh, beginning to take your clothes off.

“Siri, play ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor.”

‘Okay. Now playing ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor, as featured in Saltburn.’

It's murder on the dancefloor!

But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey!

It's murder on the dancefloor.

But you better not steal the moves.

DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down.

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vroomvroommuppett · 7 months ago

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hi hi!! i was wondering if you could do a kika x pierre x reader fic where theyre kinda possessive over her and just super obsessed with her? tysm!!

our girl

pierre gasly x francisca gomez x actress!reader

taglist

kofi

still taking requests!

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!

a/n: when i got this request i was excited because i've been wanting a request with them. i will actually be doing a longer version of this for my next social media story, so i'm very excited.

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yourusername

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pierregasly posted a story

[going to visit our girl]

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francisca.cgomez

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whorediaries-09 · 1 year ago

Text

afterglow;

pairing- felix catton x reader warning(s) - hurt/comfort. (let me know if i should add more.) a/n- accepting requests for characters from saltburn!

the slut club

'why'd I have to break what I love so much? it's on your face, don't walk away, I need to say

he wasn't stupid. he was rather someone who preferred not to study. he was smart, and caught on to what you were trying to teach pretty fast. you wondered why you'd been chosen to tutor him while he pretty much could've learnt all the things were explaining by himself. you felt inferior to him, to his large circle of friends and his charm. you didn't feel 'cool' enough to be his friend, and somewhere along your thoughts, you may have been intimidated solely by his presence.

'so, tomorrow at 6 pm, library, sound good?' he asked, walking backwards. you clutched your books closer to your chest, as you walked forward.

'yeah, but you'll topple and fall if you walk like that, careful felix,' you warned. he winked, joining you as he walked side by side. he put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his body. the deep rich scent of mahogany and cigarettes ghosted you.

you moved away from his touch. your clothes felt too sticky, books too heavy. the sun was scorching down upon you. your stomach felt too bulged. you were tired, horrendously so. it wasn't your day, it made you want to tear off your hair, rip off your skin.

'i was wondering if you'd want to go out sometime? me and you?' he asks, stopping you at your tracks. you take in a deep breath, your mind flashing different ways to dodge the situation. it's not that hard you think. slowly you gulp,

'felix, are you out of your mind? who gave you this stupid dare?'

he stares at you with an intense look in his eyes. and maybe you want to believe him, even if you rationally know he's pulling your leg. because everyone loved him. it was impossible not to love him. he was a perfect fantasy, someone who didn't seem to be real. he was a gateway to an escape from reality.

'i- i'm- i should go,' he says, turning on his heels. you watch him go, as the sunset paints it's hues on the sky. the dull hotness creeps into your heart, burning with an insatiable intensity that leaves you heaving. you feel terrible, as if you'd attacked him without reason, but you knew, you weren't wrong. it must have been a dare that farleigh had given him to complete.

*****

the knocks on your door grew aggressively louder. it wasn't a fragment of your dreams you realized, as you opened your eyes. the moonlight peeked through your curtains. you slipped you feet into your slippers, rubbing your eyes.

the college party invite hadn't reached you. it was too late to deal with drunk people shenanigans, but with the progressively loud knocks on the door, you doubted you'd be able to sleep. maybe it was the best option to chase the one who was causing the ruckus outside your door.

when you unlocked the door, a breathless felix towered over your body. he stared at you red, hollow eyed. he reeked of beer and cigarettes. he stumbled, closing the gap between you. pushing the door close with his feet, he breathed in your scent. he sighed, pulling you closer.

'j-just let me embrace you. you're so warm,' you wrapped your arms around his body, pulling yourself apart from his hold. you stared into his hazel like eyes, which were like sunlit branches or the moss covered oak. you tried to decipher his feelings, his true intentions.

'felix, can you please sit down for a moment?' you whispered. he nodded, sitting on your bedding. you sat down on your knees beside him. his palm travelled up to your cheek, stroking the skin. you smiled at him, holding his hand. you felt broken and hurt.

'do you really hate me that much?' he asked, tilting his head at an angle. he smiled, despite the tears that pooled on his waterline, waiting for you to answer.

'i-i don't hate you,'

'then why won't you go out with me?'

'because- well because you- you're you! and i- i'm me.'

'if it it's some sort of metaphorical bullshit then i don't get it. but what i do get it is that i really fucking like you. something about you feels so legit, so fucking real. like i want to know you, but you keep hiding from me, keep escaping me. you don't even talk to me except when you're scolding me...' you breathed heavy. he was legitimate with what he had meant. and he was hurt because of you. while you stood on the middle of the line of a desire to be solely his or a desire to be his companion, you were silent. you were living like an island, punishing him in silence.

'felix, we're different. don't you see? everyone around you loves you so much. you're so perfect. you're like a fantasy come into life. everyone puts on a show for you. just so you love them back. but i don't-i can't do that.'

'well that's why i like you so much! you don't put up a pretentious barrier like everyone else!' it was excruciating to see him so low. your heart throbbed against your ribcage as he grazed his temple against yours. he cradled your face in his palm. his breathing was tampered and irregular. but it felt like he was breathing just for you, just to you. when he whispered, it was like a secret. a secret just for you and him. a secret meant just to be kept, a secret to be held just between the two of you, a secret to be cherished between the two of you,

'i don't even think i like you. i think i might be in love with you,'

so maybe, he wasn't perfect. he had his insecurities, some things to hide. but he was ready, to be explored, to show his flaws. he wanted you, he wanted you with your flaws. he wanted you to be his reality, to escape the perfect prison he was in. he wanted you, to hold on to you, and not let you go.

so maybe it was all in your head. you were scared. but you didn't want to burn it down. you didn't mean to hurt him. you didn't want him to go, you didn't want to lose him. you wanted him, to escape reality of the imperfect prison you were in. you didn't want him to go. you wanted him, to hold on to him and not let him go. you didn't want to punish him in silence.

'only if the love is worth the fight,' you whispered back.

so when your lips found their path to his, you knew he'd meet you. even in the afterglow.

#felix catton x you #felix catton x reader #saltburn #saltburn imagine #saltburn one shot #saltburn drabble #saltburn drabbles #felix catton #farleigh start #oliver quick #felix x you #felix x reader #female reader #reader insert #jacob elordi

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manicpixiefelix · 11 months ago

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 14.

Summary: Our second look through Oliver's eyes as he thinks back on the night he and Felix get champagne drunk on the bridge, and then when he gets to Saltburn. Looking around both Y/N and Felix's rooms, he gets to know more about them, and finally he meets the Catton Family.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, reader is said/implied to be high for some of the chapter (based on my experiences & understanding of weed)

A/N: 8506 words. you have all deserved a good feed and i am here to provide. sorry it's been a week, the dam broke, things are looking good in my personal life which is nice, and i am BACK on main fic nonsense. we get another Ollie POV, please let me know what you think, im so excited to have everyone at the estate and hanging out!! got big plans going forward!! excited to be setting it all up!! yeah please feedback, my darling friends!!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Sometimes Oliver feels like he was put on this Earth solely to exist in Felix Catton's affectionate gaze. Everything else in life is just filler.

That night on the bridge, he and Felix in suits, drunk on champagne and bathed in the twilight of the evening, will haunt him, he's sure. He welcomes it with open arms, surfacing when his mind is idle and elsewhere. Felix smiling at him, Felix trying to bring him closure even if he doesn't really need it, Felix hanging on his every word, ever story he would fabricate to keep Felix's eyes fixed on him and only him. Felix so close, Felix with his arm around Ollie, Felix's thigh pressed up against his as they sat alone on the edge of the bridge.

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Oliver feels dwarfed by him, never more so than these moments where Felix insists on occupying Oliver's personal space, and then some. But he'll never complain; Felix's affection is intoxicating, addicting even. To be so wrapped up in it, in him, it's bliss, though Oliver never wanted to seem needy for such affection, that's why he waits for these moments, for Felix to make first contact. He wonders if Felix had realised the way you so quickly had in the beginning.

Everyone reaches out for Felix, everyone else appears so desperate. Its why Oliver's always held back from touching him, always waited and let Felix make the first move. Felix was made to be wanted, he basks in it; Oliver gives him the chance to want. Isn't there a thrill in that? A novelty?

And to be wanted by Felix... That was a gift in itself too.

Oliver had, admittedly, been worried that he'd lost his chance at that. After sleeping with you, Felix holding him at arm's length, he could feel his grip slipping. Plucking at the strings of Felix's clear saviour complex was enough to claw back into his life, but he now knew his place was precarious, and most tentative of all was everything about you.

So he'd held back from you. On purpose. Often distinctly, even when you'd give these confused, disheartened looks. He tried not to look at you in those moments; his focus was Felix, Felix seemed harder won.

But when he'd tried to apologise on the bridge - at first he wasn't going to bring it up, but it was dark and he was reasonably drunk and the only person who's ever smiled like Felix had been smiling at him in that moment had been you - Felix had, at first, laughed him off. No, he can feel it now, weighing on him; he needs to balance the scales. He wants Felix so bad it aches in his bones, but Oliver knows his want goes beyond just the beautiful boy by his side. Every part of you, how you interact with the world, interact with him, the way you exist and exude confidence and love, drew Oliver in like a moth to a flame. If Felix is the hook, you were the line. The bait, and the trap. The sun, and it's warmth. He wants to always be the focus of your loving, attentive gaze. Always wants you to want him too.

Oliver is the helpless fly in the web you and Felix have woven, to be so lovingly obsessed with you both as you are, and yet still drawn further in, to love the love you share. He feels trapped and utterly helpless against his feelings for you both.

So he has to make it right. Has to make it... even? Was that how to make it right?

But Felix is different on the bridge. Different to the jealous creature he tried so clearly to hide in the weeks before. Something had changed.

"You never need to apologise for making them happy," he says easily, affectionately. Oliver tries to be insistent, that he never meant to get between the two of you. He's rambling and tipsy, but not enough to miss the faint choked noise of what Oliver could have sworn was intrigue that Felix makes at that, but he knows better than to dwell or comment on it. Instead, Felix claps him on the back; "you wanna make it up to me we can say you owe me one," he says far too easily.

"Owe you one what?" Oliver frowns, playing oblivious for a moment as he takes a sip of the champagne before Felix gives him a cheeky wink and a grin.

"Shag, of course."

Oliver does a spit take with surprise, not having thought Felix would be so casual and genuine about it, almost falling off of the bridge in the moment. Felix catches him, arm around him as he laughs through an apology.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry mate," he wheezes, carefully clapping Ollie on the shoulder, "also I apologise for assuming, poor form, sometimes I forget people can be weird about these things- not saying you'd be weird, we've just never spoken about this kind of thing."

It speaks to how much he must genuinely trust Oliver, considering how light the conversation remains. Or perhaps it's the bubbly. Still, Oliver has a little bit of an inkling about what this kind of thing may be. But part of him needs Felix to say it, to confirm his suspicions, to keep stringing him along with further crumbs of hope.

"Assuming what?"

There's a single moment, the way in which Felix looks at Oliver out of the corner of his eyes, smile briefly frozen on his face as he must be considering the weight of what he's about to say. Its in the moment that follows, when Felix laughs almost self consciously and withdraws his hand that Oliver wonders how out Felix is. Oliver had always just kind of assumed - hoped - on the basis of his relationship with Y/N, but it occurs to him that the general perception of Felix, the talk and rumours and gossip that surrounded him, never really entertained the idea that he was actually queer. Felix's affection towards everyone in his life was simply a by-product of who he was, and you're his best friend - and his cousin, according to Farleigh - so of course you don't count, and otherwise Felix Catton was a known lady's man, right?

Not quite, it seemed.

"That you'd even be into guys like that," it sounds so easy when Felix says it, like Oliver can't see the tension in his shoulders as he reaches over, taking the bottle of champagne back. Its almost empty. Oliver doesn't mind if he finishes it.

Felix looks at the sky, at the stars.

Oliver thinks about the VHS tape of Maurice that he stole from a rental store after looking at the back cover. He'd kept it stashed in his sock drawer and watched every week under the cover of absolute darkness until it literally became unplayable. Yes, Oliver liked guys, and spent his teen years having just as many lewd fantasies about boys with posh accents, and charmingly youthful features, and floppy, brown hair, as he did about girls with big, dark eyes, and high, perfect cheek bones, in bright red wedding dresses. His sisters hated Beetlejuice, thought it was gross, but he and his mother would watch it together on occasion, sharing a blanket his gran had crocheted, and a bowl of popcorn. She'd get all giggly over Alec Baldwin, while Oliver couldn't help but fall for Winona Ryder for the duration of the film, every time.

For a moment, he thinks of the sunlit kitchen he grew up in, and his mother cooking Sunday lunch with a record playing. The last Sunday before he left for Oxford. In the yard, he can hear his father mowing the lawn, and he's sure Emily is in her room packing for her own journey back to her third year of studying. But Oliver comes out of his room just as Jump in Line (Shake Senora) begins to play. Serendipity. Already excited by the song, his mother looks up from the dishes, and practically lights up at the sight of her son. She's going to ask him to dance. He's going to say yes. They're both going to love this moment; she says it's their song, and Oliver dances along to their song. When it's over, Oliver won't admit that he's disappointed it had to end, but he tells his mother he'll miss her too when she hugs him especially tightly. For that one moment he hadn't ached to leave the way he'd been for months, for years.

Looking now at the rock in the rubbish that represented his father, there's a momentary pang of guilt for lying so dramatically about him he hadn't been expecting. So he pushes it out of his mind.

Felix finishes the bottle, and Oliver watches him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Effortlessly beauty.

Oliver wants to focus on his future, not his past.

"Haven't got too much experience with 'em, but that doesn't stop me from liking them well enough," feeling especially bold, he levels a sly smile at Felix, "so if it's all good with you, maybe we do say I owe you one."

Felix blushes the most beautiful scarlet as he barks a loud, pleased laugh. But most importantly, he relaxes.

"It's not that hard," he offers so nonchalantly, amending with a sheepish grin, "well it is, that's part of the point -" but Oliver can't help himself.

"I said I didn't have a lot of experience, didn't say I was completely inexperienced."

"No, I know," Felix's voice turns all smug and teasing, and Oliver can feel his face beginning to heat up as he realised the implications of Felix's tone, "I've heard rave reviews." Oliver had taken the time to have his fun, to have a few hook ups here and there in the past year, usually with girls or guys from town or other campuses who had no idea who he was otherwise. There's only one person who'd be giving him rave reviews, as Felix had called them.

Huh. It's quite the compliment; he had gone out of his way to give you the kind of attention he suspected few people ever bestowed upon you, but rave reviews? What had you actually told Felix?

Instead, considering that this still feels like potentially rocky territory, he tries to bring it back.

"It's one of the few ways I ever really learned how to make people feel appreciated," his gaze drops with his tone, and hopes that Felix takes the bait. The threads that tie back to the story of his unfortunate upbringing, but also perhaps the threads that subconsciously tie his attitude and behaviour to you in Felix's mind. Even if you don't say it, he knows it's part of how you operate, and he's willing to bet that Felix had picked up on that too.

It works. Felix wraps an arm around him, assuring him that he has so much to offer the world. God, he sounds so sincere when he says it; if Oliver hadn't knowingly baited him into the compliment, he would have believed him entirely. At the very least he basks in how good it is to hear Felix say.

They talk through the night, Oliver tentatively feeling his way towards his goal, the opportunity to spend Summer with Felix too, to make sure this connection doesn't wither in the interim. Of course he plays at being humble, at refusing the offer despite how clearly uninhabitable the sob story home he'd made up for himself was, but just as he'd predicted, Felix, ever the saviour, refuses to take no for an answer. Apparently his mother has people stay for months at a time anyhow. Oliver wonders idly if that's where Felix got it from.

"Y/N will be so pleased, I can tell you that," Felix mentioned with fondness. Of course Oliver had anticipated that you would probably be spending at least some of your Summer with them, but he's surprised that when he enquires further, Felix admits, "yeah they live with me at Saltburn when we're not at school, have for ages now."

"What, all the time? They really are a ward of the Saltburn Estate?"

Felix wears a strange little smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes; there's an unfamiliar kind of melancholy that doesn't look quite right on him, Oliver thinks, as Felix shrugs again.

"Some people's parents just aren't meant to be parents."

For a split second Oliver feels a rush of guilt as he comes to realise he may have fabricated a life for himself that you had actually lived. In the moment, however, he dips his head, a sign that he understands, that he agrees.

"Then we're lucky to have you."

Felix throws an arm around his shoulders, pulls him in tightly and presses a kiss to the side of his head, assuring him it's no trouble at all.

"What are friends for?"

Yes, this moment would be burned into his brain; Felix so warm beside him, Felix smiling against his temple, Felix champagne drunk and willing to share his life, if only for six weeks. Every fibre of Oliver's being is willing it to work out, willing it to be more than just these six weeks -

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Except the minute he knocks on the doors of the house that looms so large he feels like he's about to be swallowed whole by it, he feels like he's failed a test. The look in the terrifying doorman's eyes, his tone of voice, the unflinching scrutiny when faced with Oliver's continual awkwardness and questions, makes him feel like he's failed several more in rapid succession.

Oliver's actually pretty sure he's never been quite so glad to see Felix as the exact moment he calls out to Oliver with absolute joy. Which is saying something. It's never felt like Felix is judging him, at least not in a way he can't pass. Thank fuck. Felix, in this moment, is the only one who matters, he tells himself.

That being said, Oliver had been expecting you to be by Felix's side when he'd come bounding in to save him from Duncan's scrutiny. That's generally where he's come to expect you. Not that he wasn't grateful for Felix giving the tour, it was just... unexpected.

Honestly, when you appear from a door on the other side of the long gallery, opposite Felix's bedroom, Oliver's surprised by how relieved he is to see you. The room you've exited seems to be themed in pale purple from the brief glimpse Oliver sees, and you've got a leather bound folder in your arms, but neither of those is nearly so interesting as the look in your eyes. Looking back, Oliver sees Felix lounging in his doorframe, looking between you both with patient amusement.

"Ollie!"

Oliver's pretty sure no-one in his life has ever sounded this excited to see him. The only person who comes closes would be Felix, five minutes ago.

"Ollie, oh Ollie - Fi, hold this," you pass off your folder to Felix, who of course takes it without argument, before Oliver's swept up in a tight hug, "you're early, you smell nice," you hug him so enthusiastically the two of you spin for a moment, before pulling back, holding him at arm's length like you're assessing the state of him. Instead, you beam, holding his hands as you turned to Felix, "Fi, Ollie's here! We love Ollie!"

This time when you meet Oliver's gaze, he's surprised to see not just love, but want. You'd worn that look in the weeks before the two of you had fucked, like all you could think about was how you'd once begged him to want you, and how he of course admitted he did. When had he started missing this look in your eyes? All he can think about is that night in the warmth of your bed, the way you'd sounded so fucking certain and needy - of course I want you - and how he can see it in your eyes again now. For a moment his mind and resolve is fuzzy; why had he ever stopped reaching out for you?

"We do love Ollie," Felix agreed with further amusement, and that's when he remembers. Except... this isn't the jealous version of Felix that had shown up in the aftermath. This was the Felix who'd brushed off Oliver's apologies about the whole ordeal on the bridge and proceeded to overtly, if jokingly, flirt with him. Already he feels just a touch more relaxed in this new dynamic that was being set up for the Summer.

Actually, Oliver, for just a second, thinks he may have died and gone to heaven.

"Fuck, Ollie, look at your nails," he hears next, however, and it immediately shatters the illusion as he pulls his hands away from you and your judgemental eyes.

"Don't be mean," Felix chides, and you look up with surprised, as if you hadn't realised your own less than complimentary tone. Looking between Oliver and Felix, there's apology in your eyes.

"Sorry Ollie," you're quick to offer, and he awkwardly tries to act like he's not embarrassed, "I'll give you a manicure, I can paint your nails; we can match!" You smiled brightly, hands pressed flat and warm to his chest all of a sudden, "I match Fi's shirt today; Farleigh painted my nails -" your eyes go wide as if you'd just remembered; "Farleigh; shit."

You run for the door to the blue room. Oliver, deeply confused, watches you go. Then, he hears Felix sigh with fond exasperation, holding out the leather folder. A moment later you burst through the door again.

"Documents. Shit. Thanks, Fi!"

And you're off again.

"Is this... how they normally are just at Saltburn?" Oliver finally asks with faint concern, looking from the door to Felix in the darkened doorframe.

"My lovely cousin is an atrocious influence on our dear Y/N," Felix said with incredible diplomacy. But Oliver's mind momentarily catches on the wording.

Our Y/N.

Just like before, a strange thrill, a rush; he remembers the look in your eyes when he'd first said 'Our Felix' to you. An exclusive kind of possessive, one you'd willingly share with Oliver. He liked this dynamic, he wondered how hard he'd have to push it to get beyond the simple semantics.

We love Ollie!

We do love Ollie.

Perhaps it wouldn't be too difficult at all.

"What do you mean?" He asks instead, and Felix turns to him with that same amused smile.

"They're fine, don't worry mate, they're just high is all," clearly Felix's feelings are mixed on the subject; Oliver knows he has no problems with getting high himself, so he suspects Felix cares more about Oliver's first impressions of his home and his family than he was wanting to let on. You were his right hand after all. There's something endearing about how much he seems to want Oliver to want to be here. Which he does, for the record.

"So this is your room?" Oliver enquires, shooting for brightness, despite the momentary awkwardness. He watches the tension leave Felix's shoulders. It's enough for Oliver, and his gaze drifts, roams around and tries to catalogue every single piece of Felix he can glean from the clutter. Even with an army of servants there's something unkempt about how he decorates the otherwise old and ornate space. CDs he'll spend time poring over, stacks of books, and trinkets, and tchotchkes. Felix even has a balcony; stone railings and enough decorative chairs, and even a lounge and small table, for company.

Here and there in the room itself, however, a few things seem out of place; shoes that didn't look like Felix's sitting neatly by the door, two dressing gowns, one maroon and tossed over the bed, the other in navy and draped more deliberately over the end of the bed. Two glasses of water, one on either side of the bed. Tell-tale signs that clue Oliver in before Felix even confirms it -

"Mine and Y/N's, yeah," he says it so easily, so nonchalantly, no bothering with pretence here at Saltburn, "you'll be staying just next door," Felix continues on with a wide, easy smile over his shoulder as he continued to flit through the rooms, catching light, voice echoing amongst the decorative walls.

"Bathroom," he offers, before turning, adding, "we're going to be sharing a bathroom, by the way, I hope you don't mind," and Oliver finds himself drawn to the sight of the ornate bath, as if on purposeful display in the middle of the room, "otherwise you'd be miles away on the other end of the house," Felix explains, continuing on without even considering his words as he says them. No, of course Oliver didn't mind.

All Oliver can think of is everything that simple sentence implied. Closeness. Implicit want. A sudden flash in Oliver's mind as Felix continues through to the dressing room, of sweat beading along skin and hands clutching desperately at the cool, porcelain edge of the tub, of water sloshing and spilling and overflowing, and the sound of breathless moaning -

He tries to focus, tries to simply watch Felix's hands as he taps idly on the red walls of the dressing room as he lead into what Oliver can only assume to be his room. He stays out of his head, leans into the moment, and lets himself relax as Felix gestures broadly, brightly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Your room!"

It's bright, all wide, open windows looking over the beautiful grounds of Saltburn, honey coloured wood and lamps that glow in such a way that he was reminded of Oxford. Already someone's brought his suitcase up, set it out at the end of the bed; he'd get to unpacking that later tonight, for now he took his time relaxing into the space. Felix had already sat himself down, seemingly at home in the old, wooden rocking chair, watching Oliver, almost like he was trying to hide his nervous anticipation.

"I'm really glad you're here, mate," for just a moment, Felix sounds more honest than he'd been since Oliver had arrived. There's something in his eyes that Oliver hadn't been anticipating, in the brief moment in which their gazes meet. There's a kind of arrogance, Oliver thinks, to calling even a sliver of it something like love, but it's adoration and appreciation nonetheless. It's gone in a flash, too brief to be anything serious, he thinks once more as Felix stands, "right, I will, er... I'll leave you to it."

And Oliver is quiet. It's a kind of reverence, or perhaps it reads like shock and awe at the whole place, but he listens quietly as Felix tells him about his mother's aversion to stubble and ugliness and piercings and -

"Anything else I should know about?" Finally he asks, sensing Felix was close to rambling on a nervous tangent. Thankfully, Felix actually seems relieved by the interruption, assuring him that there was nothing else to worry about.

Felix tells Oliver that he just needs to be himself, that his family will love him. That it's relaxed. Oliver loves Felix dearly, but doubts he, a man who rarely seems to be anything but relaxed, would be the best judge of that. Especially in a place like this. Still, Oliver smiles like he believes him, and watches the way Felix hangs himself back from the door on his heels, almost like a little kid, telling Oliver that his family will be in the library when he's ready.

Library?

His mental image of Saltburn grows with each moment. Soon it will overwhelm him, he's sure.

So he tries, just for the moment, to get acquainted with the room he's been given. His own, honey-coloured piece of Saltburn, if only for the Summer. Hopefully beyond, that dreamy little voice of want whispers in the back of his mind. Another flash of desire runs through him, the image of a quiet evening on Felix's balcony, a purple sky and a glass of scotch, book in one hand and Felix's head in his lap. He'd be too big for the little sofa, legs hanging off the edge, but he's comfortably fallen asleep with Oliver's fingers carding through his hair; when you drape yourself over Oliver's shoulders, there's loving affection in the way you call them 'your boys' -

God he'd been entertaining these fantasies for months, sure, almost since he'd met you and Felix, but never this vivid, never so detailed or hard to push away, to pretend like he'd never had them when he next tries to look you both in the eyes.

Yeah, me and Y/N's room. You're right next door. We'll be sharing a bathroom.

This is either going to be a dream, or the hardest Summer of his life. Pun entirely intended.

The room itself is rather charming, once Oliver finally breaks free of his own fantasies. Charming in a different way to the rest of the house, but in a way that was hard to put his finger on at first. Saltburn was like if a place could put on a performance of itself, none of it felt lived in, or at least, not for a very long time. Except Felix's room, it had his youth and carelessness that gave it a feeling of home, as, for some reason, did Oliver's.

Except then he sees them. Then he understands. There's space stickers on the top drawer of what he can only assume is the otherwise expensive bedside table. Some are peeled off, some even leaving the ugly, half-peeled, paper residue of planets and stars and little cartoon astronauts. The second of the two drawers is in much the same state, but depicting a faded sea creature theme. It's so unexpectedly, joyfully childish. There's two books in the top drawer, a collection of Edgar Allen Poe's short stories, and a copy of Emma. Oliver swallows hard, trying not to wonder what you must mean by that. Otherwise the drawers are empty, almost hotel-like in it's severe starkness.

There's other little things, however. Fairy lights curled up and around the headboard that glow a comforting, warm white once he finds their switch. A digital clock at odds with the rest of the room's aesthetics, red numbers glowing in the afternoon light. The painting on the wall above the bookshelf that looks far more modern than anything else he'd seen so far on the walls, a rich, blue night sky glittering with stars, and a dreamy silhouette of a figure with a cigarette almost glowing orange against the darkness. Despite the vagueness of the figure, there's a comfort, a kind of love with which they'd been captured that Oliver can somehow feel in his chest when he looks at it.

The little bookshelf itself in the corner is filled with titles he can imagine you specifically enjoying, but a few anomalies here and there - books on botany and Edwardian flower code stick out in particular. It's completed with a small stack of CDs and a CD player gathering dust on top. When he crouches down, however, he's surprised to see an old, portable cassette deck taking up space on the bottom row of the bookshelf, mostly hidden behind several stacks of what appeared to be blank cassette tapes, crammed into the very corner, almost out of sight.

How strange. How... human.

There is an echo of someone else in this room, but to his relief, it feels like you. For the barest moment, he almost feels like he's already home.

It's a short-lived feeling, however, as Felix's words come back to him once more. His reflection in the bathroom mirror as he carefully rids himself of even the barest traces of stubble, doesn't meet the standards he's sure the mother of Felix Catton must hold.

Oliver's never considered himself particularly beautiful, nor did pretty much anyone else, it had always seemed. His mother was of course biased, Felix was filled with too much affection to be considered anywhere near reliable about that sort of things, and you - something inside Oliver squirms almost with embarrassment for even thinking so poorly of himself in the past few moments. Maybe a face like his would make Felix's mum happy, if the look in your eyes meant anything, every time you saw him.

Oliver chooses to leave the way he was brought in, taking a long few moments in Felix's room, leaving it untouched, undisturbed, but treating it like a museum to his best friend, clues about his life he couldn't glean from conversation alone. Felix's bookshelves were bigger than yours, stacked with comics amid countless fantasy and adventure books, but a surprising number of cowboy and western titles, though it's not as if there appears to be any kind of sorting system. There's a ceramic bowl that looks hand made, full of faded wristbands for events all over the world for the past five years. There's a shoebox that apparently used to hold a pair of lady's runners, now sitting at the end of one row that now has 'A Stupid Box For Feefs Stupid Rocks <3' sharpied on top in handwriting he doesn't recognise. A thick textbook about space on the bottom shelf with a cracked, worn spine and sticky tabs seeming to note various pages, various guitar tab books for different, popular bands that Felix would definitely be interested in. Four decks of cards stacked on top of each other, boxes looking so worn and used they were practically falling apart.

For a very long time, Oliver finds himself caught, looking at the little cork board full of photos leaning on top of the bookshelf. Countless photos of Felix, Farleigh, Venetia, and Y/N throughout the years. He hadn't realised just how long you and Felix had even known each other. How long you'd practically been a fixture at Saltburn in the Summer. There's a photo of the four of you all in your bathers, laying asleep on the grass beside the lake, all next to each other on brightly coloured towels, none of you could have been older than twelve; you fit right in along with the rest of them.

There's a photo strip, the kind taken in a booth at a mall or a museum, that Oliver thinks he recognises, but it takes him a long moment of staring at it to figure out why. It's you and Felix, and the strip itself says it's from an aquarium. Smiling. Laughing. You blurry, covering your laughter as Felix looks particularly goofy and pleased with himself, as if he'd just told a stupid joke. The last one has been ripped off.

Oh. Right. He'd seen it while snooping through Felix's wallet a few months ago; the photo had been the reason he'd put the wallet back at all. The way the two of you were kissing in the final photo, so wrapped up in each other, and love, and joy, had made Oliver feel almost physically sick with both want and jealousy.

God, he has to leave, has to stop snooping again and actually find this library and the rest of the Cattons.

Walking through Saltburn's many rooms alone makes Oliver feel like he's constantly out of bounds at a museum. There's hints of life throughout the building, but they're few and far between compared to the ornamental, carefully curated decorations of each room. Even the hints of the Cattons themselves seemed... too purposeful. The little, animated 'Catton Family Players' puppet show is the kind of thing only rich, whimsical weirdos could ever think was charming, and not just bizarre, vain, and haunting in the same way that porcelain dolls were.

But then he hears laughter, and warm chatter from down a hall, and the tinny, purposeful shouting from what could only be a movie or TV show. It sounds so much like his own family's living room on a cheerful evening that it's almost relaxing. Almost.

Because as he's approaching, he realises they're talking about him. They're picking apart the life he'd fed Felix as if it were mere gossip, speaking so airily, their sentiment so clearly out of touch that he'd probably find it amusing if he didn't have to pretend to be living it. Briefly, he wonders if they spoke like this about your life, or if the novelty of you had worn off in the years before. Perhaps you were just glad they could focus their pity and unapologetic classicism on someone else for a change; he couldn't hear you in there, which surprised him. Maybe part of him had expected you to defend him the way you had back at Oxford. Maybe you don't feel like you can at Saltburn. At least Felix sounds embarrassed, irritated as he admonishes Farleigh for having told the rest of the family.

Before he enters the library where the rest of the family has gathered, Oliver pauses by the door, both to get a better idea of what they're already thinking about him, but also because he'd spotted someone watching him from one of the adjacent rooms.

Bleach blonde hair, stars clinging to the tights on her legs, she's reading a book that Oliver can't quite see the cover of. Venetia was written on the collar of the little, blonde puppet in the Catton Family Players; Oliver suspects this is her. Oliver thinks she could be considered very beautiful, if she didn't seem quite so sharp. The way she huffs a laugh and wears a dangerously amused smile after she'd taken her own time in analysing him seems to prove as much. That being said, Oliver's not sure if she's laughing at something about him, or about the fact that they can both clearly hear her family's disparaging remarks about his apparent upbringing.

"Farleigh seems to think he's ghastly," Oliver hears a woman say as his hand comes to rest on the door handle, "why are you and our dear pet even friends with him, darling?"

"Dirt poor, not attractive, and his parents are drug addicts," a second woman's voice seems to surmise as Oliver lets himself into the room, "I can't actually -" but Felix makes a noise as he sees the door opening, and the woman goes quiet as Oliver peers in.

"And here he is now," Farleigh sounds as thrilled as he ever was to see Oliver, "we were just talking about you," like he's trying his best to make Oliver feel as unwelcome as possible. It's... kind of working. Bastard. However looking over at him does solve one mystery; you and Farleigh are sharing a sofa at the back of the room that's only just big enough for the both of you as long as you're tucked up against him, his arm slung over the back of the chair behind you.

And you're fast asleep against him.

The blonde woman on the sofa who shares Felix's elegant, effortless beauty admonishes Farleigh, even though Oliver can tell from her voice she was one of the ones very much talking about him only moments before. Oliver has the grace to pretend like he hadn't heard, though is still glad for the vaguely embarrassed, apologetic look Felix is already giving him.

This has to be Felix's mother, the blonde with the airy voice who immediately gets up to greet him, to assess him.

"Oh, what beautiful eyes," oh thank god, "oh, how wonderful!" There's genuine surprise and adoration in the way Felix's mother regards him, and Oliver can't help but feel relieved, like he's finally passed the first of what he's sure will be many tests during his life at the Saltburn estate.

"Yeah, we told you he wasn't a minger," Felix pointed out when his mother turns to him.

"Oh, but darling, you and pet are kind about everyone; neither of you can be trusted about those you're fond of." Pet? Does she mean Y/N? Suddenly Farleigh's comments over the months make a strange amount of sense. At the very least Oliver's heart begins to sing at the idea of you and Felix speaking so kindly of him to the others that they know you're both especially fond of him... And you both seem to think he's beautiful enough that you mention it when he's not around. Huh.

But yes, the moment the woman explains her aborrance of ugliness Oliver knows he's talking to Felix's mother. At least she seems to like him well enough, going so far as to ask if he'd seen Venetia yet, that even she'd been dying to see him, but had chosen to drape herself around the house as if laying in wait for him. Indeed that's how it had seemed when he'd spotted her earlier, but none of them have let Oliver get a word in edgewise.

Felix's father is the next to introduce himself, all long limbs and warm handshake to match his smile, just like his son. When he asks Oliver about his trip to the estate, Oliver finally breathes, can finally respond.

"Oh, God, don't with the 'sirs'," Felix's mother waves him over to sit down, insisting, "no, no, no, we can't stand anything like that here," though her outburst seems to have been enough to rouse you. As Oliver sits, he hears, syrupy and warm with sleep from behind him -

"Ollie!" As you had each time since he's arrived, you sound so genuinely delightful. Farleigh makes a noise in the back of his throat. Oliver turns in time to see you elbow Farleigh in the ribs.

"I liked you better when you were asleep."

"Fars," your voice drops low, like a warning, and Oliver's surprised by how sharply Farleigh looks away, jaw clenching tightly, "be good." Oliver almost thinks Farleigh might be angry, but then he sees the gentle way Farleigh's holding your shoulder, thumb rubbing circles against your upper arm; from what Oliver can see, he realises Farleigh's expression is almost embarrassed -

"Children, stop bickering," Felix's mother orders brightly, and your expression returns to unbothered and chipper as you refocus on Oliver.

"Hi Ollie," again, then as more of an offer to the rest of the room, "isn't he just lovely?" Oliver flushes, but gives you a fond smile, even as you settle back against Farleigh. Even though Farleigh persists with glaring at him, when he turns back, he rests his cheek against your head, oozing malevolence as he seemingly tucks himself against you too. But he does indeed remain quiet.

After the altercation passes, Oliver gets a brief introduction to one of the other house guests at Saltburn, Pamela, brief being the operative word as she's quickly sent away to ask about tea from one of the staff members at Felix's mother's insistence. Pamela herself doesn't exactly seem confident in the task, but that's once again when you speak up. Much to Oliver's surprise, you give a detailed physical description of the woman - Annie - and succinct directions to the kitchen itself, following it up with a yawn and -

"The Irish one, a bit mousy, might have trouble meeting your gaze but she's nice enough."

Pamela looks far more confident thanks to your directions. Oliver's genuinely shocked at your level of detail and knowledge, but everyone else seems to be so casually used to it.

"She is a bit like that, isn't she?" Felix's mother muses with an idle air, and when Oliver glances back at you, you still have your eyes closed, as if close to falling back asleep, while Farleigh has his faint, fond laughter pressed against your temple.

Before Oliver can even reckon with the moment that had just come to pass, Felix's mother is regaling him with all of Pamela's dirty laundry, before she dives right into pitying Oliver himself, and the sob story of his life and most recent 'tragedy' she's heard.

She looks at him just the same way Felix had. He think of the moment he'd decided to commit to this Dickensian kayfabe, that day in the pub when Felix's eyes were fixed on him, all pity and desire and a desperate need to fix, to save, to be a light in Oliver's life. The way this woman speaks, the way she looks at him in this moment, makes Felix Catton make total and complete sense. Something inside Oliver relaxes; she would not be hard won.

As they circle back around to the tragedy of poor Pamela, however, something about what Farleigh says, pointing out that the tragedy of her was the only interesting thing about her, sticks in the back of Oliver's mind.

Being beautiful and tragic would only ever get him so far, would only ever make him a novelty. It takes another glance back at you for him to realise a little more of why you behaved the way you did; tragic and beautiful and useful. That's the thought that turns over in his mind, even as Felix's mother starts her line of questioning about the sordid details of his upbringing, and Venetia joins them only to stare at him like a bug, and Farleigh only seems to be holding himself back from outright contempt at your behest. You are once again asleep. At least Felix makes a token effort to reprimand his mother, not that it appears to make much of a difference.

Oliver offers what little he can get away with, and feels only relief when Felix insists they start getting ready for dinner. Oliver practically bolts, he doesn't even wait for Felix like he probably should have, just desperately hoping he's got the right door to his own room. Clearly he has, swearing when he's finally in his little piece of sanctuary, but after a beat he realises that even that has been breached.

His suitcase is no longer at the foot of his bed.

In another moment, the door that connects his room to the bathroom squeaks open and there's two more people in his room without bothering to even knock. At least Felix is apologising for his mother. Part of Oliver thinks he should have expected the Cattons to be exactly as out of touch as this house implied, that he should have braced himself better, that it's not Felix's fault, but the apology is still nice.

Also he's rather distracted by the fact that all of his clothes have been organised neatly in the old, wooden cupboard.

"Did someone unpack my suitcase?" Oliver hears himself ask distractedly. Looking back when Felix makes a noise of guilt, he sees Felix sitting on the edge of his bed with an apologetic smile, and you next to him, laying back on the bed and looking at the ceiling.

"Uh, shit, yes, I should have told you," Felix admits, "they do that kind of thing here." Rich, whimsical weirdos, the lot of them, "the maids all report back to mum, by the way," Felix informs him, while you're just quietly swinging your legs off the edge of the bed. Felix's tone turns teasing, however, "so I hope you didn't pack anything scandalous." Oliver leans on the wooden foot of the bed, into Felix's space with an amused smile at the thought - pushing his luck, pushing into Felix's space to play off of the idea of scandal, so close to Felix and his mischievous smile. Felix leans back, the tease, giving Oliver space to quietly say -

"Just my old boxers."

You snicker. Felix grins.

"No, they're used to that, don't worry," but then Felix is up again, almost too close, looking at Oliver like he knows this is all some kind of joke, like he know - like he wants Oliver to keep looking at him, at his teasing smile, at his lips like that, "Duncan will be thrilled." Like this is all a game. Oliver snorts a laugh.

But the moment doesn't last, and Felix is moving again, getting up, telling Oliver a new rule - ahead of time this time. Dinner at Saltburn is an event you dress for, with the kind of dress code that requires a dinner jacket and cuff links and - Oliver would be properly embarrassed if it didn't mean he got to wear Felix's spare jacket. Felix seems almost embarrassed by it all, his casual nature clearly butting heads with the formality of his heritage. In this moment he almost seems childish, it's rather sweet. Judging by your smile, you're endeared by his behaviour without even having to see it; you hadn't even thought to sit up; your eyes have fallen closed, as if basking in this moment.

Oliver watches you, the way you radiate contentment. You were not born into Saltburn, but you'd made it your home. You'd won the love of Felix Catton, and a place in his life, that no-one else had managed to achieve. Hope was a beautiful thing, and you were both in this moment.

"I'm really happy you're here, Ol," Felix finally murmured, and finally Oliver believes him, "I'm sorry everything's so... old fashioned."

"No," Oliver's voice is soft, "it's wonderful."

The pleased smile Felix wears as he heads through to his own room makes everything about this strange, ritualistic, obsessive, critical world worth it. Over his shoulder, he asks if you'll be coming through too, and you tell him you'll catch up in a second. Felix closes the door over quietly, and after a moment, Oliver joins you, laying back on the bed.

"I like your room," Oliver breaks the silence after a moment. After a moment, a hum that's more like a contented laugh escapes you. You mumble a thanks; it's been a few hours since he'd seen you initially, your chatter had died down considerably, it seemed like you'd sobered up a good deal in the afternoon that had just passed.

There's a million things Oliver wants to say in this moment, things he wants to do, questions he has about you, about Felix, about Saltburn.

"It's not-" he finally starts, voice so soft as he finally turns to you, "it wasn't your fault, by the way."

When you turn to meet his gaze, there's surprise and confusion in your eyes, clearly not sure what he was referring to. Its been a long time now since he'd deliberately reached out for you, since you'd slept together, since Felix had first started giving him resentful looks. Things are better now. Much better.

"What?"

All it takes is a deliberate, gentle touch, his hand taking yours, apology in his eyes. Its enough to acknowledge that he'd spent time pulled away from you, that you weren't crazy to think that, and that you weren't at fault.

Oliver's always liked watching you process things, at least when you allow the world to see it happen on your face, not making an effort to hide it. You look down at his hand on yours, grip loose like more of a reassurance; raising your joined hands like you can't quite believe the sight, he takes the opportunity to link your fingers. It wasn't your fault.

Looking deliberately back at the ceiling, he gives you the time and space to process this development without feeling so watched.

"Oh," you mumble quietly, finally, "it's..." you give his hand a squeeze, "thanks?" Oliver smiles, and knows you see it, can see in his peripheries the way you're watching him now, but when he goes to withdraw his hand, you hold him tighter for just a beat, as if on instinct, before you let him go.

"Can I be bold for a moment?" He breaks the moment, breaks the tension, voice light and inquisitive.

"I like your boldness, Ollie, you know that," you respond automatically, matching his energy easily. Sitting up, Oliver turns to fix you with a scrutinising look for a long moment, and you wait, you watch him with eyebrows raised and an amused smile painted across your lips.

"You're sleeping with Farleigh," it's not a question. Your smile grows wider and far more smug.

"Ollie - Oliver - look at me," you prop yourself up on one elbow, gesturing down at your body, "look at where we are," you gesture around at the bedroom itself, "how many Summers do you think unrelated teenagers in close proximity, growing steadily more attractive with each passing year, can get through without ending up deciding to fuck to pass the time?"

Oliver, charmed by your blunt confidence, can't help but laugh, while also being able to connect enough dots to the implication that he should expect you to be just as close to Felix's sister too. You join him in his laughter, finally sitting yourself up. Oliver knocks his knee with yours, deliberate, and watches with a kind of fondness as you immediately focus on the moment of brief contact. You'd missed him, just as he'd anticipated.

But the laughter dies down, and you finally stand, sighing that you should probably get yourself ready for dinner too. Before stepping away, you lean back down with a wide, goofy smile that reminds Oliver a bit of Felix, and gently grasp his chin, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. Oliver, a little startled by the gesture but welcoming it nonetheless, feels want burn through his veins momentarily as he watches you head to the door.

"Oh, Ollie, there's some stuff under the sink for you," you yawned and stretched and Oliver tried desperately not to stare at the way your shirt rode up, "shampoo, toothpaste, contacts; junk like that, you know, just in case." Wait, what was that last one?

"Contacts?"

"Yeah," like it was perfectly fucking reasonable, your hand on the door, "in case you didn't bring any or you ran out - there's actually a spare pair of glasses as well, if you'd prefer. Same frames as yours, I wasn't sure-"

"You know my prescription?"

"Yeah?"

"How...?"

You go quiet. You shrug. Its not a real answer.

Right; a magician never reveals their secrets. Its not particularly reassuring for a man lying about a large portion of his life.

For now Oliver just tries to remind himself of the way you look at him, the way you want him, the way he loves you, for who you are, for all you can do.

"Thank you," he says quietly, gives you a smile and hopes you believe it, "you're good to me." He's not sure what about that surprises you, but he catalogues this in the back of his mind. There's something beautiful and, he suspects, rare, about catching you off guard. But your next words are enough to return the favour, have his heartbeat in his ears, hopeful and quick as a humming bird right before you leave.

"Of course I am, Ollie, I love you."

And he's not sure why, but he believes you.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #saltburn imagine #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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nanistar · 7 months ago

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in saltburns clan, golden slumbers 9 when bonepaw was training with ironstrike, there was a *crack* and she was dizzy and sluring, did she get a skull and or brain injury? im thinking skull because of the fragile bones that was noted in the lore/world building page that called them copper cats?

secondly i was wondering if that led to a bit of her behaviour- my biological aunt had a very severe head injury (mid 60s/early 70s so not wearing helmets was more common) when she was a child and my mom (youngest) said she was never quite the same, more quick to anger and closed off. so that's why im wondering if that's at least part of why?

thank you for taking the time to draw so many beautiful pages they're lovely. please take your time so you dont hurt your wrists~!

you are correct! you may notice the big crack sfx when she hits her head, though the focus is then drawn to her split lip, is actually her head hitting the stone. the split lip comes from falling onto her face, not the actual impact.

there was no broken skin, but when she hit her head it caused a blood to pool in her brain. i'm not 100 percent on the science of brain stuff so i don't want to get too into it, but she stayed relatively herself until pregnancy caused a hormone imbalance and the brain bleed was able to "escape" from the small area where it was localized. pregnancy is still really dangerous to humans even with modern medicine, and most ppl who get pregnant suffer from some long-lasting condition after it. bonesight's pregnancy + brain injury + general moonclan bad genetics caused her postpartum depression&postpartum psychosis to become a permanent condition. she's violent + quick to anger not due to the psychosis, but because of the head injury that causes a personality shift. her paranoia comes from the ppp.

there's One more piece to the puzzle as to why she's the way she is, and it will be coming in the next 4-10 pages or so.

(btw i would like to mention that while ironstrike threw her, it was simply a freak accident during a routine training exercise and was in no way meant to be read as abusive. bonestar is a victim of circumstance. )

#moonclan #bonestar #lore #im sorry about your aunt that must be hard

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island-in-the-shadows · 10 months ago

Text

Hannibal and Will Adopted Oliver AU Pt. 2

I literally have waited long enough to continue posting this one. Definitely owed it to @ib3li3v3you so here goes:

Pt. 1 here: https://island-in-the-shadows.tumblr.com/post/742073028536582144/my-hannibal-and-will-adopted-oliver-au-hcs

Oliver goes hunting on his own for the first time at 18 (so prior to arriving at Oxford). His dads are waiting in the wings, so to speak, in case Oliver fumbles. His hunting style is, given that he's a teenager, a little more conspicuous than his fathers'. His target had been scoped out for months, however. Got just the right person from his papa's (Hannibal) Rolodex of Rude.

Oliver wanted to try something a little different from how his dads do it which meant finding the rude man in question and seducing him while simultaneously remaining in the shadows. He really thought this out. Anyway, very looong story short, he basically does what cannibalistic spiders do to their mates. Except with a deadly syringe. His fathers' help him create a spidery display.

Oliver does start out eating regular, if incredibly fancy, food but does develop the taste for long pig and, in either case, has a fondness for Sweetbreads. Don't ask me why, I'm still not clear and do not want to probe.

Oliver seriously considers taking care of Farleigh for a while because he finds him unspeakably rude. However, Hannibal and Will advise him not to and recount how they have waited for the right time. Besides, they both know that Farleigh going missing would be noteworthy and possibly alienate their son from what he wants the most: Felix.

Hannibal sympathises with Oliver much more than Will does about the whole Felix thing. Will knows Felix's type and is just instantly on his guard. Hannibal, on the other hand, knows what it's like to fall for some pretty boy more or less at first sight.

This means that Hannibal is the one that gets the brunt of the calls when Oliver needs to vent about Felix. Yes, even when Oliver is so angry with Felix for abandoning him to shag some girl that he debates about killing him.

Back to Oliver's lies: Instead of telling Felix that his dad died, he says his mother died.

Will is the one that helps Oliver fully understand what it is that Felix wants. Except Will never suspects that Felix might want Oliver too. Cut him some slack, it's his kid and he mainly just wants the crush to go away.

Hannibal and Will argue about Oliver's obsession with Felix. Get in a fight about it. Hannibal believes Oliver and Felix are inevitable. Will thinks their son is going to wind up with a corpse and a broken heart.

The tack in the bike tyre was Hannibal's idea.

Oliver finds horror movies funny because, come on, he's literally seen and done worse.

Oliver does tell his dads that he's going to Saltburn instead of coming home.

Oliver knows how to cook though not as well as Hannibal. However, when he eats Venetia out, he thinks her blood would be wonderful in a Sanguinaccio Dolce. He wonders if Felix's blood tastes better.

His phone kept ringing while at Saltburn and Oliver kept ignoring it. The "HL" and "WG" brought questions from Felix, so he lied and said it's family members who are always asking him for something or to forgive his dad. Stupidly, this prompts him to change the name for both numbers and put "dad." (Let's remember Oliver is very smart but also very fucking stupid in canon; same goes here.)

When Felix answers the phone when "dad" calls, it's Hannibal on the other line. Hannibal follows his son's ruse and pretends he knows nothing about Felix. He does, however, get curious. Tells Felix that he would love to see Oliver for his birthday and that wouldn't it be nice if Felix came with him.

Hannibal lies and says that he's at something like a program for rehabilitation. Really wants to make it extra tempting for Felix. Gives him the address and says that oh this whole building was remade and blah blah he plays it up. He has a ball doing this.

On the drive to this place (not Prescot because, even though that's where Hannibal and Will found him, that's decidedly not where they live now.), Oliver at first doesn't recognise where they're going. Hannibal and Will and Oliver moved to this estate (one that Hannibal has long owned but barely used) a few months before Oliver started at Oxford and Oliver really only left it to hunt once and then to get on the trains and busses that would get him to school. [I did actually look for real estate for this and had fun doing it.]

However, when they turn into a familiar little road with all the familiar buildings before they get to the definitely familiar 16th century manor, Oliver starts to panic.

Felix comments on how nice it is for a rehabilitation program. Oliver is dying inside and he knows his dads did this on purpose.

Felix is, however, taken by complete surprise when he realises that Oliver's dad and his "friend" are the only people there.

Hannibal asks Felix forgiveness but that Oliver is so embarrassed of them that he had to lie. He reveals Will is his partner and that oh yes, shame about Oliver's mother dying all those years ago.

Will is polite but quietly observing. Hannibal is the consummate host. Felix is livid but polite. Hannibal likes that Felix keeps playing at politeness. Will finds it grating.

Oliver will pull Will aside and ask why? Will pats Oliver's shoulder, "We were curious what would happen, you should know that."

When Hannibal hugs Oliver goodbye he whispers, "Don't spoil the meat."

Ok this is long enough...will keep developing this for later with the big party, the maze, Felix surviving, and eventually becoming interested in more exotic meats. LOL

#saltburn #hannibal #cattonquick #hannigram #felix catton #oliver quick #just a bit of fun really

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klxudykai · 6 months ago

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some realities should be left to the imagination

now i’m not sure if this will come off as an unpopular opinion (considering i’ve never seen anyone say anything about it before) but you do not need to shift everywhere. like i get it, the universe is a big ass wonderful and interesting place but that doesn’t mean you need to explore every corner of it. you can say “oh i can just script that i don’t get trauma blah blah blah” but that doesn’t prevent your subconscious mind from carrying that trauma. sure it’ll help with your dr but you won’t forget what you saw or whatever happened.

now i’m not talking about how you have to point yourself to one or two drs. you can have as many as you want, especially considering the fact i have almost 30 so i definitely can’t be talking. but you need to consider where you’re shifting to. i will never put someone down for where they’re shifting to (unless you’re harming someone cause then im def judging) but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (sabrina carpenter reference) be careful and aware of where you’re shifting to. you’re going to a whole ass reality that is just as real as this one. it’s not a dream or your imagination. it’s real. and i’m sure you don’t want real trauma either. i would just hate to see someone discouraged and not wanting to shift again because they saw something they didn’t want to see or had something happen. shifting is such a beautiful thing and shifters are so powerful. so please, thing again on where you want to shift to.

like if you come across a new reality you wanna shift to, ask yourself “do i wanna shift for the characters or do i wanna shift for the plot?”. it works every time i promise you. and if you’re shifting to a show, a movie, or even a game i highly recommend you rewatch/replay it so you know what to expect and what to take precautions to. and if you want to shift for the characters, add them to another and more safer dr. for example, i was debating on shifting to sally face but murder shit like that so i’m deciding to add the characters to a different dr (most likely a ghost hunter dr on that sam and colby type of beat but i haven’t decided yet).

this isn’t me forcing anyone to not shift to whatever dr they’re shifting to i just want you guys to think more about the dr you’re choking because again, your subconsciousness can and will pick up trauma and it’s not going to be fun to live with. anyways i love yall sm, be safe, make sure to drink water, eat something, go outside today, and do whatever makes you happy as long as you aren’t harming you or anyone around you (that’s not a threat btw i just try to make sure that when i say “do what makes you happy” it doesn’t result in violence 💀��) <33

(also why is jacob elordi in saltburn so fine- i haven’t watched the movie fully but smth abt that eyebrow piercing 😮‍💨)

#shiftblr #reality shifting #desired reality #black shifters #shifters #shifting #shifting realities #shifting blog #shifting community #shifting antis dni

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weclassybouquetfun · 1 year ago

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Variety's Actors on Actors lineup has been announced.

Surprising absolutely no one, BarbenHeimer unites again with a Cillian Murphy and Margot Robbie team-up.

A Zodiac/Avengers reunion with Robert Downey Jr. (“Oppenheimer”) & Mark Ruffalo (“Poor Things”)

A THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA reunion with Emily Blunt (“Oppenheimer”) & Anne Hathaway (“Eileen”)

An ALOHA reunion between Emma Stone (“Poor Things”) & Bradley Cooper (“Maestro”)

*B-Coop, you may not get an actor nod, but you most definitely deserves Best Director recognition for MAESTRO.

EUPHORIA costars Colman Domingo (“Rustin,” “The Color Purple”) & Jacob Elordi (“Priscilla,” “Saltburn”)

*While Colman was excellent in RUSTIN, and I would love for him to get nominated for that, THE COLOR PURPLE as the performance for me.

SHAME reunion with Carey Mulligan (“Maestro”) & Michael Fassbender (“The Killer”)

*Carey is sensational in MAESTRO and I hope she and her team don't push her for Supporting because she is quite frankly the lead. She even has top billing over Bradley Cooper. He has always asserted that the film is more about Lenny and Felicia and it's more her story.

MORE ACTORS. MORE AWARDS SEASON TALK

A THE KIDS ARE ALL RIGHT reunion between Annette Bening (“Nyad”) & Julianne Moore (“May December”)

*May December wasn't to my liking and surprisingly Charles Melton was wonderful. But I'm all about NYAD and if Bening isn't nominated for Best Actress it will be a crime.

Disney Princesses Halle Bailey (“The Little Mermaid”, “The Color Purple”) & Rachel Zegler (“The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes”)

*The struggle to hide that pregnancy is real.

Jeffrey Wright (“American Fiction”) & Taraji P. Henson (“The Color Purple”)

*He's the lead in AMERICAN FICTION but he gave RUSTIN the punch it needed in his small role.

Greta Lee (“Past Lives”) & Andrew Scott (“All of Us Strangers”)

*ALL OF US STRANGERS was very affecting. I thought it too navel-gazing at first, but it blossomed over me much later.

Natalie Portman (“May December”) & Paul Mescal (“All of Us Strangers”)

*Mescal was in the film CARMEN directed by and conceived by Portman's philandering husband Benjamin Millipied. The screening happened before his affair allegations came out, but after the Q&A someone commented to me that Benjamin and his lead Melissa Barrera looked too comfortable with each other and bet they had slept together at least once. I just chalked it up to him being French. But maybe?

Alden Ehrenreich (“Fair Play,” “Oppenheimer”) & Da’Vine Joy Randolph (“The Holdovers”)

*I've been a fan of Ehrenreich since the wretched BEAUTIFUL CREATURES so I love all the attention and acclaim he's getting. But male voters hate weak male characters (which is why I'm worried that Leonardo DiCaprio will be snubbed for his performance in KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON. Every man I've spoken to about it hated his character - not because of his actions - but because he was weak and stupid. And Leo's character has nothing on Ehrenreich's soppy Luke. There's a meme about people being weak in the knees and needing to stand up. Nah, Luke needed to sit his ass down.).

However, Da'Vine Joy Randolph seems to be a lock. The trio of Randolph, Paul Giamatti and Dominic Sessa in THE HOLDOVERS deserve any nominations they may receive.

My fantasy Best Supporting Actress list is

Da'vine Joy Randolph (THE HOLDOVERS)

Danielle Brooks (THE COLOR PURPLE)

Jodie Foster (NYAD)

Rosamund Pike (SALTBURN)

Penelope Cruz (FERRARI)

*If Apple is running Lily Gladstone as Supporting (which they shouldn't because she's a lead), then I would swap out Foster for Gladstone. If Gladstone isn't in Supporting, then Cara Jade Myers as Anna in KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON would be my swap.

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mideums · 1 year ago

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no longer looking, thanks for your interest!

psaaaaa: after an unexpected hiatus, i am looking for a couple more writing partners. muns under 20: dni.

a lil about me:

21+ yrs old

time zone: cst

i work full time and have a fitness addiction lmao, so i do have a busy schedule but i will always try to respond asap

au / oc only (no gen)

third person para (length depends on my availability and your preference)

usually write as the m, but would like to try f as well.

i prefer fxf or mxf, but i am open to mxm

my active fcs include: gong yoo, hwang hyunjin, natsuki deguchi, cho miyeon, minatozaki sana, aron piper, and more.

smut is fine but i am rusty ;; (this is something i need to practice tbh, so if you’re interested in doing smut w/o plot lmk)

opposite fcs can be from western or eastern entertainment i have no preference, but they must be 20+

discord only at this time 🫶🏼

what i prefer to write tends to lean into dark themes so please keep that in mind. it doesn’t have to be doom and gloom constantly, but i do prefer drama over fluff. i do like to ensure my writing partners are happy so i’m always flexible on this 🤍

what i’m interested in:

plots involving two older (over 30) muses (let me use my gong yoo PLS)

toxiiiiiiic toxic plots. people who absolutely shouldn’t be together. two obsessive idiots that probably need therapy.

secret / hidden relationships.

“their husband/bf hates him…. i wonder why…” (affair?)

dark crime plots

sol and celeb aus

royalty/heiress plots because who doesn’t want to beef with the old money elite?

former first loves

saltburn kind of vibe — where muse a (oliver) falls for muse b (felix) and becomes obsessive over them and their lifestyle. muse b is charismatic and wealthy, muse a desperately wants to be a part of their life… private uni setting

if you’re interested, like this post and i’ll reach out to you!

#discord rp #discord 1x1 #1x1 rp #discord krp #discord smut rp #1x1 rp search #smut 1x1

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burntsaltsblog · 9 months ago

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shiny new toy

(felix catton\reader)

chapter four

details: a saltburn inspired short story.

content warning: profanity, explicit sexual content, and mentions of abuse (physical and mental)

warning for this chapter: this chapter depicts explicit sexual content. if you are not an adult, DO NOT READ!!! the aftermath of physical violence (da) is also contained in this chapter.

MNI 18+

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ ✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　

The first thing I registered was the cold, hard floor beneath me. It did little to comfort my injuries, but it was the only proof I had that I wasn't dead. And that was surprising, considering the last thing I remember was Eric preparing to slit my throat.

A myriad of voices rang from somewhere nearby. I vaguely recognized them, but I was already gripped by the darkness, which promised to drag me back to a peaceful slumber.

"Damnit, Farleigh. I specifically told you and Venetia to keep an eye on her."

"I did! It's not my fault she wandered off."

"And why the fuck didn't you follow her? Christ, mate, this is exactly why I needed you to watch her."

"Well, she's your fucking toy. Why the hell weren't you watching her?"

"Don't call her that. It's not like that this time, and you know it."

"Oh, do I? Because so far, it is. Tell me, Felix, when will you grow tired of treating people like objects? Because I-"

"Enough. If you say one more word, I will personally ask my father to withdraw his invitation for you to spend the summer at Saltburn. Where will you go then, hm? You'll have to shack up with one of the teachers here you've blown."

"Fucking hell, will you two shut up? Your bloody bickering isn't going to help us find Iris. I'm going outside to check the yard. Farleigh, why don't you come with me? You, little brother, can search the rest of the house."

Silence filled the air before footsteps vibrated in different directions. A door squeaked before someone above me said my name in anguish.

"Iris? Jesus, what happened?"

Warm hands braced my upper body and rolled me onto my back. It took immense strength to crack my eyes open, but I was glad I did because I saw the one person I wanted more than anything.

"Felix?" I whispered through bloodied, cracked lips.

"It's me, darling. I'm here," he said, falling to the floor and pulling me onto his lap. I whimpered quietly and buried my face in his chest, inhaling his calming scent.

Felix consoled me, tightly wrapping his arms around me to ensure my safety. "Shh, it's ok, love; I've got you."

"Damn, what happened to your face?"

I weakly craned my neck to see Farleigh and Venetia standing in Marcus Ackerly's bathroom doorway, looking equally shocked and disturbed. I suppose Eric did a number on me for people to regard me in such a way.

"Shut it, Farleigh," Felix uttered lowly, coming to my defense. "I'm going to take her to my room so you two can return to your previous activities."

Felix stood with me, still cradled against his chest, and murmured words of comfort as my sore body protested against the sudden shift.

"Feel better, Iris," Venetia said as we passed her and Farleigh, still hovering by the door. A small smile graced her face, but Farleigh's remained unreadable. I smiled feebly in return before relaxing against Felix as he carried me away from them and out of the house.

The walk to Felix's dormitory was quiet, and I anxiously studied his expression. It was one of stone as he tensed his jaw and ground his teeth.

"Felix?"

His face immediately softened as he looked down at me, concerned. "What is it, darling? Does something hurt?"

Technically, everything hurt. But I didn't want to say that out of fear that I'd worry Felix even more.

"I was wondering why you looked so mad. Did I do something wrong?"

My thoughts were spiraling out of control, and I wondered if I was burdening him too much. After all, he was taking me back to his room, so I had, without a doubt, ruined his night. I'm sure he would much rather spend his evening with a woman who hadn't just got beaten to a pulp by her crazy ex-boyfriend.

"No, sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong," he assured me. "Someone fucking hurt you, and it kills me that I wasn't there to protect you. I should've been there to protect you."

"No, don't blame yourself, Felix. You were busy with Ollie-"

"Exactly, I was busy entertaining the pathetic fantasy of a fucking lunatic and not staying with you like I was supposed to," he growled.

"What are you talking about? What happened with you and Oliver?"

"It doesn't matter now," Felix responded briskly as he kicked open the door to his room.

He delicately sat me on his bed and put an arm on either side of my legs, caging me in. Felix's head dipped between his shoulders, and he took a moment before speaking to calm himself.

"Iris," he started lowly, almost inaudible. "Who did this to you?"

When I didn't respond, he lifted his head, and our gazes clashed: earthy brown against forest green.

"Who did this to you? Who fucking hurt you?" His anger was rising, and I knew the only way to subdue him was to give him the answer he wanted.

"Is it who I think it was?" he pressed. "Was it that piece of shit who wouldn't leave you alone?"

"Yes. It was Eric," I faintly confirmed as tears blurred my vision. My throat threatened to close, but I forced myself to continue.

"He was mad about the text. He'd been watching us all night, and then when he saw I was alone, he chased me into the bathroom and cornered me there, and-"

"Fuck," Felix swore harshly under his breath.

I wanted to say more but refrained when he dropped his forehead to mine.

"I need you to know how fucking sorry I am, darling. I never intended to abandon you like that. I should've known that Eric would try to pull something like this."

Regret had infiltrated his voice before the tone became more confident. "Over my dead body, will that asshole ever come near you again."

"Felix, please, don't talk like that," I begged, shrinking away due to the topic of his death. It was something I found too utterly painful to comprehend.

"I'm sorry, love. But I'm serious; he will regret ever touching you."

"What are you going to do?" I asked, nervous that Felix would try something stupid and risk his safety. Eric wasn't worth it.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of everything," Felix mumbled as he traced a bruise on my cheek.

To signal that the conversation was over, Felix stepped into his bathroom. A moment later, he reappeared, holding up a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a small towel. "I'm gonna clean you up, ok?"

I nodded my head, earning a smile from Felix. He doused the towel in alcohol before coming back to stand directly in front of me. "This might sting a bit. Just squeeze my hand if it hurts."

Biting my lip, I grasped his empty hand and was comforted by his touch.

Felix began working carefully over my face. I did my best to mask my discomfort, but when it became too much, I squeezed his hand, and he promptly leaned down to kiss my head before whispering, "You're doing so well for me, love. I'm so proud of you."

He finished cleansing the gashes on my face before moving to my hands, arms, and legs, which were covered in minor cuts due to the broken glass from the shattered mirror.

"Almost done—just a few more minutes. I gotta make sure these don't get infected. I need my girl healthy."

My girl

The simple phrase had butterflies erupting in my stomach. They flew widely around, and I knew there was no chance of me calming them down.

"All done," he announced, giving me one of his gentle smiles, which I'd grown to love so much.

"Thank you. For everything. If it weren't for you, I'd still be passed out at Marcus' place."

Felix's face hardened, and I knew he was recalling what it was like to discover me bloody and bruised.

"When I found you, for a moment, I thought I had lost you forever. I can't even begin to describe how fucking terrifying that was. The mere idea of losing you is something I can't bare. I need you, Iris. I need you."

His eyes were frantic as they searched my face—for what, I'm not sure—but his stare added an intensity to the air and charged it with something neither of us fully understood. But it was enticing and intoxicating.

Felix held my face between his hands, and I reached up to cover them with my own as I promised him softly, "I'm here, Felix, and I'm ok."

He tenderly kissed my forehead, and his hands, almost hesitantly, settled on my waist. He paused for a moment to analyze my reaction before placing another kiss on my temple. Gradually, Felix worked down until his mouth was under my jaw. In a daze, my head lulled back, giving him access to my neck.

It didn't take him long to find my sweet spot just below my ear. He bit down briefly before darting his tongue out to soothe the area from his assault. I moaned breathlessly and gripped his shoulders, needing something to stabilize myself.

Felix's hands dug into my hair, pulling at my scalp and eliciting a whine from my throat. "Felix, please. I want you."

He withdrew his face from where it was settled in the crook of my neck and appraised me with blown-out pupils. "Are you sure? You've been through a lot tonight, love and-"

"Felix, I need you." I interrupted, echoing his words from earlier. My desperation oozed off me as I stared at him, wide-eyed and pleading.

Felix was quiet for a moment before he nodded and traced a finger over my bottom lip. "Ok, sweetheart. I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take care of my girl."

He leaned in and brushed his lips over mine agonizingly slow. I tilted my chin up, attempting to close the small gap between us, and he chuckled under his breath.

"Such a desperate girl."

Before I could reply, Felix firmly pressed his lips to mine, causing my thoughts to evaporate. My tongue slipped easily into his mouth, resulting in him groaning lowly. The sound traveled right to the spot between my legs that throbbed with immense need. I wrapped my arms around him, bringing him closer. But even with Felix tightly against me, I still craved more. I drew back just enough to grasp the top button of his shirt. "Off," I commanded.

With a lazy grin, Felix stepped back and nimbly unbuttoned his shirt. He took his time shedding the material, and my eyes drank him in each second he revealed more of his toned chest.

Once his shirt hit the floor, Felix reached for his belt buckle. The clang of metal caused my legs to snap shut and my thighs to rub together in search of friction. Felix raised a brow at me. "My needy girl looks like she's going to cum just sitting there."

I pouted at him and reached my hand out." I wanna to do it."

Felix stared at my fussing nature before approaching me so I could touch him. "Ok, baby. You can do it. Be a good girl and unbuckle my belt."

I ruefully smiled as I wrapped my hands around the brown leather, tugging it away from his waist. I then made quick work of unzipping his jeans and dragging them down his thighs before he took over and kicked them off so they joined his shirt's place on the floor.

My eyes grazed Felix's body in silent reverence. I was convinced he wasn't a human but, instead, a Greek God carved meticulously from stone; he had no flaw in sight. I lightly raked my hands down his chest before he took hold of them and placed them in my lap. I was momentarily confused before he began fiddling with the hem of my top. Then, his intentions became clear.

Felix pulled my shirt over my head, and he immediately gaped at my breasts that were spilling out of my bra. He wasted no time in ripping it off and tossing it aside.

"Beautiful," he murmured before he leaned forward and used his tongue to swirl over my right nipple.

"Oh my God," I breathed, raising my hand to curl around Felix's neck, urging him to continue.

Felix dragged his tongue along my chest, between my breasts, and down my stomach until he reached the top of my skirt.

"Stand up, love."

I groaned in protest before Felix harshly twisted one of my nipples. My core pulsed painfully as my eyes widened in surprise.

"Let's get one thing straight," Felix said, placing a hand under my chin so I had no choice but to meet his stern gaze. "When I give a command, I expect obedience. Do you understand?"

With glazed-over eyes, I nodded my head. Felix observed me as he ran his tongue over his lips. "That's what I thought. So be a good girl and stand up."

"Yes, sir."

The words left my mouth before I realized it, and Felix's face darkened. "Fuck, I knew you were perfect for me."

I rose to my feet, never breaking eye contact with him. He grabbed my hips, turned me around, and placed a hand on my back, pushing my upper body down. My cheek met his soft comforter as I felt my skirt ride up.

"I think this is in the way," Felix drawled as he eased down the zipper of my skirt and pulled the garment from my body. I turned to see his reaction as he took in the black lace panties I wore, the only clothing I had left.

A string of curses left his mouth before he delivered a sharp slap to my ass that left behind a stinging sensation. I buried my face in his bedding and pushed my hips back.

Felix pulled my panties to the side, and I felt cool air hit my pussy. "You're fucking drenched, and I haven't even touched you yet," He said, running a finger through my slick folds. "Is this all for me, sweetheart?"

My arousal began dripping down my legs, and I moaned when I felt his tongue begin to lap it up. He licked up my legs and stopped right at my glistening entrance.

"Felix, please," I whined.

"I know, darling, I know," he mumbled, placing his hands on my ass and spreading me open. A soft cry left my mouth at being so exposed, but it was apparent I loved it due to the juices that ran from my pussy.

Felix's tongue drew tight circles over my clit, and I couldn't stop the whimpers that left my mouth. He eased his finger past my swollen lips, and I clenched around his thick digit.

"Fuck me, please, I begged.

"If you want me to fuck you, you need to first cum on my face, Ok?"

Felix's words made my brain short-circuit, so I only nodded in response. He tutted at my reaction before withdrawing his finger and slapping my pussy. "Use your words, darling. What do you say?"

"Yes, sir," I cried.

Seemingly satisfied, Felix lightly pinched my sensitive bud between his fingers as he started fucking me with his tongue. I gripped his sheets tightly as if they were my lifeline.

"So good," I mewled loudly. It occurred to me that I should probably be quiet on account of the other people living in this building, but the faster Felix's tongue worked in and out of my pussy, the less I cared about who heard.

"Are you going to cum for me, love?" Felix asked, replacing his mouth with his fingers. Two of them eased into my sopping core and curled down, hitting a spot that had me practically sobbing my answer.

"Yes, sir."

Right as I came, Felix introduced his tongue back into my opening and fucked me through my climax. His thumb roughly worked my overstimulated clit as I gushed all over his face. Felix wasted no time in lapping up my juices, and I couldn't miss the way he groaned in appreciation when doing so.

"Such a good girl, cumming all over my face, just like I told you to."

Felix's tongue lazily traced my entrance, but my overwhelmed state caused my legs to give out. I was thankful when he caught me.

"It's Ok, darling. I've got you," he said soothingly as he picked me up and gently laid me down on his bed. My head hit his pillow, and I gave a small sigh of contentment.

"Oh no. Don't get too comfortable, sweetheart. I'm not done with you yet." Felix said, leaning over me. His gold chain dangled in front of my face, and I watched it slowly swing back and forth, entranced.

I snapped back to the present when Felix's fingers wrapped around the waistband of my panties, dragging them down my legs. He threw them over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on me.

"Do you know how long I've thought about this? Having you naked in my bed, looking up at me with those big eyes, just begging me to ruin you."

"Then do it, Felix. Ruin me."

My reply had him peeling his black boxers off of his body and revealing his cock, hard and already leaking pre-cum. He stroked himself a few times before reaching across the bed and searching his nightstand's top drawer. He pulled out a small, silver package, but I plucked it from his hold, surprising him.

"No, I want to feel you," I whispered.

Felix hesitated. "Are you sure? I know we're both clean, but-"

"Felix, I want to feel you, even when you cum. Especially when you cum."

My face heated at my admission, but I'd used my fingers to fuck myself too many times, thinking of Felix driving into me, raw and deep, before cumming right at the edge of my cervix, claiming me completely.

"Jesus," Felix breathed, closing his eyes. "You're going to make me cum before I'm even inside you."

I bit my lip as I watched him spread my legs and stare at pussy, hopelessly clenched around nothing.

"What a pretty cunt. All wet and swollen. Just begging to be stretched with my cock."

Felix lined himself up at my entrance, nudging my clit and causing me to whine impatiently. I bucked my hips, silently pleading for him to fuck me.

Finally, he entered me in a long thrust; I turned my head from side to side as unintelligible words left my mouth. I knew his size was impressive, but nothing could have prepared me for how my walls stretched to accommodate him.

"It's Ok, sweet girl. I know," Felix said as he circled my clit, giving me pleasure to combat the pain.

"You're so big," I cried, breathless.

"But you can take it, darling. You can take it for me."

Felix's praise caused me to squeeze around him, and I watched his face tense. "So fucking tight, "he groaned. "So fucking perfect for me."

After being able to take all of Felix without much discomfort, he slowly drew out before thrusting back in. My back arched, and he took the opportunity to pinch one of my nipples. I mindlessly moaned and wrapped my legs around his waist so I could take him deeper.

Felix soon found a steady rhythm in which he fucked me. Our cries clashed in the air, and through my hazy vision, I threaded my hands in his hair, dragging his mouth down to mine. Our tongues danced together in a passionate kiss, and it only drove me higher toward my inevitable orgasm.

"I'm close," I gasped.

Felix smirked, driving into me harder. "Yeah? You gonna come around my cock, sweetheart?"

I openly wept as Felix wrapped a hand around my neck, applying pressure to just the right spot.

"God, you're just fucked dumb, aren't you? My girl only knows my cock and nothing else."

"Please," I cried. It wasn't a descriptive word, but Felix understood what I needed.

The pressure around my neck increased, causing a light-headed sensation. Felix pressed his other hand on my lower stomach, causing my eyes to roll back and my mouth to hang open.

"That's it, pretty girl. You're doing so well. You're gripping me like a fucking vice."

Felix's words drove me over the edge. My cry was guttural, and I clenched around him, causing him to omit a low groan as he reached his own climax. He thrust in one final time, coating my walls with his seed in thick, hot ropes.

Eyes closed, I fell into a satiated state. My body was numb, yet I could feel every single nerve ending. I was barely awake as Felix pulled out, whispering soft words of praise the entire time. "You did so good for me, my love. I'm so proud of you."

As I registered his words, a faint smile crossed my lips. I glowed under Felix's compliments.

I heard him walk around his room before feeling him spread my legs. But this time, it was to clean me up with a towel.

Eventually, a blanket was draped over my body, and Felix pulled me against him in a warm embrace. I rested comfortably on his chest; his steady heartbeat was the perfect lullaby that lulled me to sleep.

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chapter index

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

39 notes · View notes