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Match Burns
A/n saltburn rewired a part of my brain
also my original idea was way too long for a one-shot so now i'm splitting it into 2 (maybe 3?) parts, if you'd be interested in that pls lmk lol
Summary: Despite your charm and kind disposition, Oliver has never been able to let himself be fond of you. Not with the way that Felix gravitates to you and your obliviousness to the attention. When you're invited to join him and Felix at Saltburn, his wariness of you morphs into an oddly suffocating dislike, until he realizes how to turn you into a way to get 'in' with Felix.
Pairing(s): eventual felix x reader x oliver, current oliver x felix (unreciprocated) and felix x reader (unreciprocated)
Warnings: potential typos (i'm tired yall), first time writing characters so potentially ooc?, canon-level toxic thoughts/plotting, some canon deviation (felix is alive and well to me and it's staying that way), oliver lowkey hating reader,, but kind of in the grown up version of a kid pulling another kid's pigtails when they have a crush lmao
----
The qualities that make the others adore you, that leave them with no choice but to treat you as some kind of dorm hall trapped princess, are the parts of you that make it difficult for Oliver to tolerate you.
You may not be the heir of some great fortune, the kind of commodity that can only be created through generations of pristine breeding and a lifetime of wealth that comes attached to that kind of pedigree. But you do have something.
His peers may see your self sacrificing nature in the ear you're always willing to lend or the time you're willing to give away without a second thought as instinctual kindness. But Oliver knows how to look beyond careful facades, the stained glass people use to warp the way they're perceived. He knows that your too sweet smiles and soft eyes are just your forms of social currency.
And the most off putting part of it all? The only person that can get away with pretending to not notice the way people react to you, is you.
Sometimes, when his thoughts drift to you without his permission, Oliver convinces himself that it's impossible for anyone to not see your softheartedness as the compensation that it is. And then someone--Felix, says something that is so transparently devoted, Oliver knows that it's worked. Give people what they want, and eventually you'll ensnare them.
Oliver let himself believe that he was finally reaching the peak of Felix's favor after being invited to spend the summer at his family's estate. Then, two days into his stay, Felix informed him that you'd be joining them at the end of the week.
The thought of you and your sense of humor that always seems to toe the line between witty and sarcastic; and the warm feel of your hand on his, or anyone's, arm, because when you listen you do so with your entire body; and your bright eyes that seem to see through everything but yourself, at Saltburn seemed to take something from this away from him. You didn't even need a sob story or to flash an indicator of something in desperate need of repair to get invited.
You were just you, and that was enough.
The way Felix told him only strengthened his chargin. She's friends with you, isn't she? I've seen you two together at the library.
The two of you. Not something that Oliver chose. You appeared one day at his side, on a too warm day for late November in Oxford. A too crowded library had the universe dropping you onto his lap. He accepted your presence because of the way the world seemed to light up for those around you.
But now there are no crowds of admirers to divide the attention. There is only Felix and his family, and with just two guests being invited to spend the summer, it'd be easy for the ultra wealthy to turn this into a competition for favorite pet.
It's also more than that. Alone here, it was easy to pretend Felix's attachment to you didn't exist. But now--now he could easily be the second favorite out of a set of two.
----
There was only one part of your arrival that Oliver was looking forward to, and you stole it from him.
He wanted to witness a crack, a wavering in your assuredness. The size of the estate would get to you, would make you--for once--seem small. You'd hesitate, maybe even see Felix in a different way that'd have you rethinking your friendship.
Your eyes had widened, a combination of shock and awe meshing together behind your gaze. Oliver could feel it, the moment that you'd reveal yourself as susceptible to shrinking in on yourself...and then your eyes met his, and the look vanished before it could fully take root.
You grinned at him and then at Felix, abandoning your luggage next to the car that picked you up before approaching them with unashamed enthusiasm. You pulled each of them into a quick hug, your warmth an ache against him. You didn't attempt to suppress your joy until Duncan appeared, standoffish as ever as Felix introduced you. That was just enough satisfaction to make Oliver want it more.
He's still thinking about it now, imagining just what it'd take to leave you vulnerable. You don't sense the resentful nature of his thoughts. You never do. Not even when Felix tells you that you'll be staying in the room connected to his through a shared bathroom.
Felix suggests giving you some time to rest before dinner. You accept the offer, tired from the back forth traveling from the UK to the US. Your visit to your mother had been so brief, you accepted Felix's offer so quickly. Maybe there's more tension in your family than you've admitted.
"She likes you a lot." Felix's low tone snaps Oliver out of his thoughts. It's a strangely nervous statement that doesn't make sense. You're friends with both of them, and if Felix means the statement in the romantic sense, he's wrong. Oliver's in the habit of taking note of the way people see him, and he can't remember instance in which you've ever looked at him like that.
He could see you feeling that way about Felix easily. You're around Felix often and while there is an underlying hint of stiffness when you're around him, it isn't a sign of dislike. You're determined to like him less, you're dedicated to not loving him. An amicable, but ultimately pointless goal. Who doesn't end up loving Felix?
Oliver doesn't know where this conversation is going, so he decides to keep his response simple. "She likes you, too."
"N--" Felix starts to deny the point, but realizes a full dismissal wouldn't be true. You do like him, it's just--it's different. "She trusts you." Felix shakes his head once, still uncertain. "I know we're friends, but sometimes, especially when we're alone, it-it feels like she sees me as a match that's starting burn too close to her fingers."
There it is. Oliver can't blame you for your precautions. Felix has turned the heads so many women--and some men--and he allows them to hang around him openly. His desirability, his options have never been secret. And your only overlap into his world is going to the same college. Oliver's even heard of you deciding to spend the night alone instead of with Felix because you don't always feel safe at those kinds of parties.
You're playing it safe, like a very good girl from suburbia, USA. It's your way of surviving, but Oliver can't quite respect the choice. You're smart enough to realize that loving Felix is like playing with matches, but you're not strong enough to realize that the proximity would be worth a few burns.
"I know we're a little different, but I don't want her to think I'd ever make her do anything." The obliviousness in Felix thinking that this is just about social circles is endearing in an odd way. "How'd you two get so close, anyway?"
Oliver isn't sure so close is the right way to phrase things. Sure, you're attentive and a little touchy, but that's just how people like you move through the world. Besides, if anything, Oliver thinks you choose his company so often because he's never given you the kind of desperate attention everyone else gives you.
Oliver forces a smile, pushing against the thought of being the one to bridge the gap between the two of you. It twists at his stomach. "What? Are you asking me for girl advice?"
Felix cracks a grin, playfully nudging Oliver with his shoulder. "You know how I meant it."
The words are light, but still another attempt at getting a concrete answer. There's an edge there that Oliver's familiar with, an implication of a feeling he's gotten used to. That chest tightening, what's so special about them? And now the Felix Catton is viewing him in that light.
Personal emotions aside, this--you--could be more useful than Oliver thought.
yes i want more felix and oliver !!
a/n i love when people enable me :)
this could be read as taking place at some point after match burns (though this isn't part 2!) but can also easily be read on its own
---
The world has been dulled by a drowsiness so thick and full it's disorientating. You're so tired, so trapped in the state between falling and asleep that it's hard to think. Despite this, he somehow manages to be a bright spot, so warm and safe any and all thoughts of dangers lurking in the shadows are slowly vanishing.
You don't remember Felix getting here. You're not sure when he entered your room through your shared bathroom or when he laid down next to you or when he started tracing soothing patterns against your shoulder. All you know is that there was a nightmare that latched onto the ghosts estates this grandiose and ancient seem to attract and then there was Felix.
By morning, when you'll no longer need Felix to serve the purpose of daylight, you'll be embarrassed. Even now, you're still half-aware of the fact that there's a lot about this that you should find mortifying. Felix knowing to come in and wake you means you must have been showing signs of distress while asleep. Having a nightmare during your first night at Saltburn is a little pathetic, but it's something you can live with. However, needing Felix to stay with you until you fall asleep is a juvenile kind of pathetic that you don't think you could get through.
"Thanks for..." Your voice feels small and far away, but you don't think you can manage anything more concrete. "Waking me up."
Felix's fingertips continue the pattern they've been outlining against your skin without hesitation. "It's nothing," he whispers, "You were tossing and turning so much." Yeah, you'll definitely be embarrassed tomorrow. "Feel better now?"
You manage a nod. "Yeah..." Your eyes fall shut, you have to force yourself to open them again. "Better." Maybe if you sat up or--or moved away, you'd be able to focus. You shift, but you're too tired and, honestly, comfortable for it to be productive. "So, if you...if you want to go back...that'd be okay."
The lack of desire to get the words out paired with the need to remain polite, to make sure that he doesn't think you don't appreciate the gesture makes the words feel awkward. Felix's hand moves down to your arm. He angles his head forward, so close you can feel his breaths against your cheek. "Do you want me to?"
His words are soft, voice low and slightly gravelly. You're reminded of Felix in a world that feels so far from the one you're currently in, seeing him at parties, around the girls he'd pick from time to time.
There would always be a flurry of them around him, but you could always tell which one he was actually entertaining because of the way he'd become attentive. His ability to make someone seem like the only person in the world has always been fascinating. It's a talent that's more than romantic, too. It's part of the reason everyone always wants to be around him.
"No." The confession is faint as it accidentally tumbles past your lips.
The honesty of it knots something in your stomach. It's more than fear or the inability to fall asleep. You want Felix to stay. That's it. There's no reason or justification for it, you just...you want Felix.
But there are social boundaries, and things that you can't do with friends. Intentionally sleeping in the same bed, especially as close together and touchy as the two of you are being, is definitely one of those things.
There has to be a way to explain it without tiptoeing into territory that you're incapable of handling. Especially when it comes to Felix, who you spent an entire semester trying not to fall in love with. You survived by the skin of your teeth just to be invited to spend the summer with his family. You feel like an idiot for thinking you'd be able to get through this.
"Okay." He says it like it's that easy, like that's the only thing worth considering. "Then I'll stay." You're not sure if he can sense your uncertainty, but he's quick to tack on a justification, "Need you well rested." The vague feel of embarrassment attempts to nip at you again. "I know it can be hard to get used to it here."
It's a phrase that would seem like a blanket statement of instinctual politeness from anyone else, but from Felix it feels real, his understanding almost tangible. It's enough to make you fully ease.
"It's still nice, though." An understatement you would've never let slip past you if your eyelids weren't growing heavier by the second. Nice is such a bland term, it almost feels like an insult, especially when considering the fact that you're not just talking about his home. "I'm glad you invited me."
His touch has now moved to concentrate on your forearm. "I'm glad you came." A beat of silence stretches between you, your eyes finally falling shut. Felix's fingertips brush against the inside of your wrist. If you were any more awake, the carefulness of the touch would have gotten to you. "It is still nice."
----
The lack of light bleeding into the hall from beneath the door that leads to Felix's room makes the air entering Oliver's lungs feel stale.
It's late enough that the darkness could mean nothing. Felix's extra curriculars of choice have him in the habit of keeping strange hours. It's more common than not for him to up until the wee hours of the nights, even if there's nothing for him to do. However, from time to time the long nights will catch up to him and he'll fall asleep early.
Oliver can almost convince himself that that's all this is, can practically picture Felix fast asleep above the covers and only half undressed. He would be able to believe it if it wasn't for the soft glow illuminating the space beneath the door that leads to your room.
A familiar tightness forces his ribs to contract. Oliver swallows, stepping towards the door to Felix's room. He knows you to be a late night reader from time to time...
His hand is now grasping the door handle. There's nothing inherently strange about what Oliver's doing. Felix did say to come find him if Oliver had trouble sleeping. He pulls the door open slowly, taking his time to make sure that the creek of the old hinge's stays as quiet as possible.
Oliver peers into the room. The darkness isn't easy to see in, but eventually he makes out slightly tousled sheets on an empty bed and the door to the bathroom cracked open.
Of course it'd take so little time for you to completely pull Felix into your orbit. An entire semester of Felix doting on you and you managed to commit to keeping him at arm's length. One night in his family's home and you're suddenly no longer cautious. Maybe you're not as noble as you try to seem.
He's approaching the door to the bathroom, unsure if seeing it would be as unbearable as imagining it. Felix's hands on you, your body pressed against his.
"Hello?" Felix's voice carries over from the other side of the bathroom, slightly confused but casual. "Oliver?"
Oliver swallows, blood running cold despite the fact that all that he's been caught doing is justifiable. He forces himself to walk forward, to open the door to the bathroom fully. "Yeah."
Oliver crosses over, opening the door to your bedroom with an uncomfortable lump in his throat.
What he sees isn't--Felix is sitting up, the bedside lamp closest to him turned on, an open book held in one hand and your sleeping form holding onto the other. It's not the coming together, the snapping of tension and desire he had been imaging. In many ways, its something worse.
"Couldn't sleep?"
Swallowing down the influx of emotion that Oliver isn't capable of dealing with, he nods blankly. "Yeah. Still adjusting."
"It's normal," Felix replies easily, "She couldn't sleep either."
Felix's solution for you not being able to sleep was to crawl into bed with you. It shouldn't matter, he's seen the two of you get away with displays of affection more nauseating than this on campus. Lingering kisses against each other's cheeks and foreheads and jaws during a night out, holding onto each other at the few parties you agree to attend, Felix tucking you into bed after you drink. But this is--this is a touchiness not hidden under the guise of alcohol.
Oliver nods again. "Oh."
"Fell asleep quickly, though." Felix's thumb brushes up your arm. "Jet lag paired with Farleigh sneaking her one too many glasses of wine." Another empty tilt of Oliver's chin. "Y'can come here, if you want."
The offer comes out so casually, Oliver starts to wonder if he missed something. "What?"
Felix sighs, a hint of some lighthearted humor in the sound. "It doesn't need to be a thing, it's just sleep."
It can't possibly be that casual to him, can it? Especially with the level of care in the way Felix is touching you. And even if it is just a matter of sleep, this is still your room. "What about--"
"She won't mind," Felix dismisses easily. "She likes you." It's one thing to be friendly with someone, another for them to crawl into your bed after you've fallen asleep. "She'll get it."
Oliver's still not sure, his confusion affecting his ability to figure out which reaction will be what Felix wants most. He deliberates for a moment before stepping forward, approaching the other side of the bed.
Now that the overwhelmingness of the domesticity is starting to wear off, you do seem different in your sleep. More vulnerable. It isn't an unappealing way to see you.
He pulls the sheets back carefully, you stir regardless. You shift away from Felix's touch, moving onto your side. Of course you'd wake up just in time to take this from him, too.
You wipe at your eyes tiredly before squinting them open. It takes a moment for you to place yourself, but once you do, the slight confusion behind your eyes is nearly drowned out by an oddly warm confusion. "Oliver."
You bend an arm in an attempt to prop your head up. It takes you a second, but you eventually manage. Farleigh must have encouraged to have a little more than just a few extra glasses of wine at dinner.
"Y'okay?" Your tone is more kind than confused as you stare up at him with sleep still in your eyes.
The answer should be easy. Oliver should be working at accepting Felix's suggestion. The words are there, balancing on the tip of his tongue, but instead of getting them out, he's too focused on you.
It's a curious attention. Half asleep, hair tousled, makeup washed off, and the oversized shirt you're sleeping in sliding down your shoulder. All of these things should make you seem smaller, less eye drawing. Instead, being dressed down just adds a softness to your aesthetic appeal.
Maybe what makes you so appealing to Felix isn't as hard to grasp as Oliver originally thought. The thought twists in him strangely, jabbing at a part of him and encouraging another.
"Ollie couldn't sleep either." Felix gently squeezes your forearm. "I was asking him if he wanted to stay in here tonight, but he didn't want to overstep."
You blink, stiffening slightly for the first time since you woke up. The implications of Felix's statement take a second to fully sink in, but once it does, Oliver can see the hesitation coloring your features. "Oh."
Felix traces a pattern up your arm. You turn your head to look at Oliver again. "You've seen me before a 9:00 AM lecture after a night out and at every stage of finals week grief, I'm not sure there are any boundaries left."
You sit up, pushing yourself close to the center of the bed in a wordless invitation. Oliver swallows before letting himself sit down at the edge of the bed. He takes his time moving beneath the sheets. Your scent clings to the fabric.
The bed's not small, but with the three of you, it is a bit of a squeeze. It's reminiscent of being a little kid crawling into bed with a parent after a bad dream.
"You are pretty harsh during exams." Felix's voice is light, bordering on teasing.
Your mouth falls open in a mock gasp. You twist your arm, trying to push Felix off. He grins, easily resisting your halfhearted attempts to get him off of you. "I am not that bad." You're still pretending to want Felix to let go when you look back at Oliver. "Am I?"
To be honest, during finals you're constantly preoccupied. Even when you're meant to be spending time with friends, it's clear that your mind's stuck on assignments and exams. You're also prone to irritability. The only actual argument Oliver's ever had with you was mainly caused by the stress of an essay you were trying to finish. You apologized almost immediately after, but it's still the most angry he's ever seen you be.
The truth doesn't feel relevant. "You're perfectly lovely all times a'year."
You grin, Felix lets out a sound that's equal parts laugh as it is groan. "Don't tell her that. It'll go to her head."
You gently push at his shoulder, Felix exaggerates a pout.
Like all the praise you receive on a daily basis hasn't already gotten to you. You may not have a family name that carries weight, but you do have the way that people see you, a regular dorm hall darling with the grades and social circle to match.
You don't bask in the praise or let it change your outward appearance, but it has to inflate your ego. You've never implied that you come from a family that struggles financially, but you're not like Felix either. Holding your own with his kind must give you an inflated sense of self.
But this is another truth that serves no purpose. Not with Felix's teasing yet content smile and the attentive way you're watching him.
Oliver extends an arm, placing a hand on your knee. You sit up a little more, uncertainty briefly making it easier for you to be awake. It's not that you're never touchy with Oliver, it's that he's rarely the one to start it. "Oh, she's too much of a sweetheart."
It's honest enough. You are too nice to let anything openly go to your head. The words get you to finally relax at the contact. You must have decided that Oliver's just in a friendly mood. "Thank you." You then turn your head to look at Oliver, "See? Some people think I'm nice."
Felix rolls his eyes, letting his hand fall off your arm for the first time since Oliver's arrival. It's a small shift, but some subconscious part of you seems to notice, eyes instinctually searching for his hand.
"Since when are you on her side?" The comment, delivered with a tone that isn't quite teasing enough to cover the tinge of annoyance that still manages to bleed into the words, only confirms Oliver's theory.
Felix is used to being at the center. Everyone's eyes are always on him, everyone's affections are constantly available. He isn't one to be jealous in a committed way, Oliver's heard about enough of Felix's open flings to know he isn't like that. But he's territorial about those he feels attached to. If Felix Catton deems you worthy of his care, you make sure to make it clear to anyone else that that's all that matters.
The brief flash of defensiveness makes Oliver feel like he's standing a little straighter, a little stronger. "There are no sides."
"Yeah." You shift, leg moving off of Felix's as you try to sit up a little more. Felix's brow furrows.
It hits Oliver, then, that even though you want Felix's approval, you might not need it the way everyone else does. That must be part of the reason Felix is so drawn to you. Or maybe you're just that sure in yourself, in your place in his life that you're willing to push from time to time if the setting feels light enough.
But you're not happy with tension between the two of you, not even the kind that's barely implied. Oliver doesn't think he's ever seen the two of you argue, or look anything outside of completely content in each other's presence.
"We're just joking," you mumble, angling your neck awkwardly to look at Felix.
"Yeah, so am I."
Your gaze shifts over to Oliver, something knowing behind your eyes that he can't quite return. "Mhm."
Felix lets out an exaggerated breath before relaxing his spine and laying down. "Fuck off," he mumbles, the passive aggressiveness forced into the syllables not enough to hide his genuine fondness.
You look over at Oliver, "Can you believe him?"
A combination of being emboldened by the safety of your approval and the urge to feel as indispensable as you are makes Oliver want to joke back. "He seems moody, must be tired."
You laugh again, this time your body leaning towards Oliver until your head lands on his shoulder.
"Fuck off," Felix says again, "Both of you." His annoyance is still undercut by something warm.
Your head is still on Oliver's shoulder, the weight of it impossible to ignore but not exactly uncomfortable. You've stilled significantly, a fact that makes Oliver wonder if you've fallen asleep like that.
Then, you break the silence, "We're kidding."
"I've heard that before," Felix counters flatly. He stretches an arm, reaching for your fingers. "Liked you better asleep."
Felix squeezes your hand, keeping you awake enough to respond. "I'm sure the quiet was nice."
He sits up slightly, "You snore a little."
You're so offended, you lift your head off of Oliver's shoulder. "I. Do. Not."
Oliver waits a beat before adding, "Well."
You turn to look at Oliver, your offense clear. "How would you know?"
"Remember after that one party? You were so out of it, you needed help getting into your room and passed out before I could go." The memory is relatively recent, an end of semester party that you used to celebrate the end of your finals induced hibernation.
You pout. "You two are mean."
Felix runs his thumb across your knuckles. "Extremely." You part your lips like you have something else to say, but you're cut off by a yawn. "We should go to bed."
You tilt your chin up slightly, a potential protest that fizzles out almost immediately. "Yeah." You're tired, there's not even the good humored kind of fight left. "It's late."
You sink into the mattress, eyes shutting immediately. Oliver watches for a second, still unsure in a way he isn't used to. There's something about this kind of softness that isn't easy to place himself in.
Felix leans over, setting his book down on the nightstand. "Are you both settled?"
You nod, eyes still closed. Oliver's a little slower to react, "Yeah."
Felix switches off the bedside lamp. Darkness enshrouds the room. The bed groans slightly as Felix adjusts himself. Oliver follows, moving so that he can lay down fully.
He's closer to you than he's ever been. Your warmth radiates beneath the sheets in a way that's strangely soothing. Oliver isn't sure how he felt so awake just minutes ago. His eyelids are growing heavy. The last thing Oliver registers before falling asleep is Felix's hand on his shoulder, a too brief yet somehow still lingering squeeze that serves as a silent good night.
i know the general consensus is that oliver is using bestfriend! reader to get to felix but i do wonder if the more he spends time around felix and you that the line between hate and something akin to what he feels for felix blur a little. when did he find your naivety become endearing instead of annoying; when did he find interest in kind of books that you often rattle on about— i think him liking reader is funny but also a good point of conflict for him and felix and just felix himself. kinda forces him to address his totally not platonic affections for reader. (also oliver and reader dynamic in my mind is basically just olivia rodrigo's lacy)
in honor of me now having officially seen lacy live :))
also i have had lacy on my mind for them for such a long time it feels like you've crawled into my brain omg
they also remind me of the song girl crush (i love the harry styles cover of that song omg)
----
"Stalker."
Oliver hadn't meant for the nail of his thumb to start tracing the sharp crease forever dented into the spine of one of your paperbacks, but the strangeness of it had been too tempting.
The Virgin Suicides. The title doesn't seem to suit your taste, and yet there it was, well worn and tucked into the corner of your small shelf lovingly, next to the first few installments of Harry Potter.
"Oh, I--" He should have been more focused, he should have worked harder at listening for you over the music coming from your CD player. "I was just..."
You're staring at him, charcoal colored product smeared beneath both of your eyes now. When he first showed up at your door, about fifteen minutes early, you had only completed your left eye.
The night has a way of changing you, of making you look a little older. The makeup, your low cut top, the length of your skirt. It all works together to blur away any uncertainty in the way you hold yourself. Oliver's seen it--you--like this before, but for whatever reason, it's hitting him harder than usual.
He swallows, fighting the thrown feeling to take in your expression. Your eyes give away little about what you're feeling, but the set of your lips betrays you. There's the slightest lift to the corner of your mouth. You're amused. You're joking.
"Kidding," you grin, "You can relax."
Oliver lets out an exaggerated breath to play up his relief. You're harder to crack than you should be, the most significant piece in the puzzle that is Felix's favor, but there are a few things that Oliver has figured out about you. The first is that your loyalty runs deep, so once he's in with you he's in for life.
The second is that you like being the good guy. It's not the same as Felix's desire to play in the macabre until it, too, bends to his will and morphs into something good, but it's similar enough. You like making people feel at ease, you like having people trust you.
"Do you read?" Your question is genuine. You even lean against your bathroom's doorframe to make it clear that you're listening.
The fact that you felt the need to ask reminds Oliver of how little you actually know about him. Felix is attached to you like he is no other, so Oliver's been around you, but he hasn't managed to make it across the line that divides friendly from friend. You're polite, kind even, but it's clear that something about Oliver hasn't clicked with you. Yet.
Your unfamiliarity should shake him, should make him regret pretending to get the time wrong to buy himself some time alone with you in an attempt to thaw the ice. But if anything, his novelty in your mind grounds him. Any indifference or dislike you feel towards him isn't personal. You just don't know him.
To you, Oliver is a blank canvas that he can paint to reflect exactly what you want in a friend. "A little," he answers, "I've gotten more into it recently, still looking for recommendations."
"You can borrow the one you were looking at, if you want." There's a shy quality to your response that briefly gives him a flash of what Felix might see in you. "It's a little eerie, but beautiful. Definitely one of those books you'll either really love or really hate, no in-between."
Oliver nods. Reading isn't a terrible way to find an in with you. "Sounds interesting." He takes a slight step forward. "Hopefully, I'll love it because after what you said to Lucas in class, I'm scared to not agree with you."
Your eyes briefly dart to the ground, a bashful grin playing at your lips. "Oh my god, don't remind me."
The one good thing about Oliver's too-brutal-for-an-elective literature for creative writing class is the fact that it gives him something to have in common with you.
"You made good points." You shake your head at the compliment, expression still lighthearted enough for Oliver to know that he's still treading on safe ground. "And honestly, needed a break from hearing Lucas's thoughts on the canon for the fifth time in the same hour."
"Thank you." Your tone is full of the satisfaction that comes from vindication. "He's the worst kind of English major."
"The worst," he echoes.
Your smile hints at a camaraderie that Oliver should find satiating. After all, that's what he came here for. A few stolen moments in which Felix wouldn't be able to distract either of you.
Oliver's eyes drift towards the collage decorating the wall your bed is pressed against. A lot of it is made up of scraps, pieces from magazines, post cards and notes from friends, some scrapbooking material to fill awkward spaces. But there are also pictures. Most of them of you and Felix.
A disposable clearly taken by your best friend stands out. You're laughing, Felix is staring at you, the arm that isn't holding the camera around your shoulders. There's an unabashed affection behind Felix's gaze that Oliver can feel in the pit of his stomach. It'd be one thing if the two of you were drunk or inebriated in one way, but the background of the photo is so mundane. The two of you are in a coffee shop, daylight still streaming in from the window next to you.
What is about you?
The question cuts through him from the inside out, the same way it always does. This, his mind reminds him, this is why he doesn't let himself be around you...because he can pretend all he wants, can attempt to convince himself that the visceral feeling that strikes him in the chest whenever you laugh; or pull your lips into a pout; or look at him like he's more than static is as simple as hatred. It won't change anything.
You'll still be goodhearted, enough of you rooted in your own world to let you stay that way. You'll still have that off kilter sense of humor and the way you pinch your eyebrows together when you're pretending to get something everyone else does. You'll still have your cherry lip gloss and perfectly smudged eyeliner. You'll still be the one that Felix eventually realizes he's in love with.
There's no reason to hold this against you. You're blissfully unaware of most of the things that twist Oliver's stomach into careful knots, and the little you're actually aware of, you're kind about.
Oddly enough, that only makes it worse.
The sharp nausea that comes from thinking about you too much isn't something to act on. If Oliver lets himself lean into his bitterness even slightly, all of his careful planning will have been for nothing. Felix would never keep anyone around that hurt you. Even Farleigh's learned to temper his snark, keeping any comments made about you lighthearted enough for you to laugh off.
Besides, there's nothing to gain from hurting you. With those eyes and soft, eager to please smiles, it'd probably feel like kicking a puppy.
"You sounded good, though," he mumbles, "Smart."
You beam at him, the look so warm and real Oliver's once again forced to understand why Felix cares about you so much. "I think I sounded a little crazy, but I like your version better." You scratch the back of your arm, the movement almost nervous. "Thanks."
He forces a smile, letting silence fall over the two of you. If you were as predictable as the others, Oliver would have some kind of direction on what to give you.
"If you want something to drink..." You trail off, head turning to look at the mini fridge tucked into the corner of your dorm. "Felix was going to bring something, because my fridge is basically empty. I think I have some leftover vodka in my closet, but it's the mixed drink bottle from last week, so a single shot could be a lot...and it's pink now, and I think it was more orange last week."
You shift your weight from foot to foot as you ramble. "But I don't remember a lot of last Saturday. Ironically, because of what's in the closet." You let out a self deprecating laugh. "But no judgement if you want to be that drunk. Seriously."
It's the kind of statement that would feel sarcastic from anyone else. Oliver can tell you mean it.
He didn't plan on getting that drunk tonight, but then again, he rarely does. Oliver's gotten into the habit of following Felix's lead, letting him set the tone of the night.
"We could do a shot together." Oliver keeps his voice low, casual in its hesitance.
Taking shots with people you're not the most familiar with seems to be your form of low stakes bonding. More often than not, it seems to be a girl thing, but Oliver's seen enough exceptions to not feel weird about asking. The only time Farleigh openly gets along with you is after the two of you make a game of who can down a round fastest.
"Yeah." You smile, visibly easing. "Sounds fun."
Oliver has a feeling that your relief is more about having something to do with your hands than the promise of alcohol. The only part of you that ever indicates insecurity is your uncertainty. Like you're afraid someone's going to tap you on your shoulder and tell you that something about your last social interaction was objectively wrong.
You turn, walking towards your closet. There's the creek of old hinges and then a slight laugh. "If we get drunk enough before Felix gets here, he's going to have a really stressful night."
You're different when you're drunk, touchier and more susceptible. Oliver swallows. You could be joking. You're usually joking.
"He could use some stress," he mumbles, attempting to reflect your usual brand of humor, "He's had it too good for too long."
You laugh again, the sound fuller this time as you shut the closet door. "Where would he be without us to humble him?"
The thought of him holding the same level of significance in Felix's life as you do clouds Oliver's mind. That is so you, to say something so inviting and disorientating just as he's resolving the way he sees you. "Nowhere good."
You place a small, plastic cup in front of him before setting down your own. The liquid in the bottle is an egregious shade of pink for what once was plain vodka. You were right to point it out. Oliver's stomach starts to turn just looking at it.
"Okay," you start filling his cup first, as innocently as if you were offering him lemonade. "This might kill us."
Oliver doubts anything that bad would ever happen to someone like you. He watches you fill your own cup, the liquid draining from the bottle much faster than it should. "It might with the way you're pouring it."
"What?" You start twisting the lid back onto the bottle. "That's a standard shot."
"Standard to who?" The question is more for the sake of arguing than genuine concern. A lot of your friendship with Felix seems to be made up of pointless bickering.
You glare at him, "I don't know, like standard standard."
You're the kind of person that enjoys reading for fun and sitting by the pond to feed ducks and yet you're willing to drink like that. "Sounds exact."
You pick up your cup, squinting at its contents. "Standard-ish." Clearly. You extend your arm slightly, Oliver takes the hint, picking up his own overfilled cup. He taps the edge of his cup against yours. You return the gesture immediately. "One...two..."
The two of you down your drinks in unison. You both regret your choices immediately. It's more than just the sting of alcohol, it's the nauseating taste of everything that was considered left over at the end of last week's party mixed together.
His eyes meet yours, and there's an immediate, wordless understanding. That was disgusting. Despite your mutual repulsion, the two of you are smiling.
Oliver's reminded of a gesture he's seen you and Felix exchange between rounds. A version of a kiss so quick and casual, it does manage to pass as something close to platonic. At the very least, platonic compared to you on Felix's lap, you in Felix's bed in nothing but his T-shirt...
You smell like Felix. It doesn't matter how much of that start-of-spring perfume you wear, it never fully covers the faint aroma of cigarettes and luxury fabric softener. Oddly enough, the artificial scent seems determined to linger on anything that isn't you, often making Felix smell like you. It's such a common occurrence, sometimes if Oliver's not thinking about it, it's hard to remember what comes from you and what comes from him.
It's easy to wonder if that level of entanglement applies to other things. If you'd feel like Felix. You wear his clothes often enough. Or, if Felix feels like you. He's in the habit of using the lotions and products you leave in his room.
You set down your disposable cup. "That was a lot grosser than I remember it."
"A lot," he echoes, discarding his own cup.
----
taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny
Ever since I watched Saltburn I love these three motherf*ckers
moodboard for oliver quick
𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡
Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader I Brief!Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader
Summary: you ought to not be surprised by Farleigh's constant cheating. You should, instead, use his greatest adversary to get back at him.
Warnings: Language, Dark fic, Mentions of Violence, Toxic Relationship, Mentions of Drug Use, Smut (+18), Public Sex, Cheating, Dirty Talk, Dub/Con, Choking, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Threats, Rough Sex, Sadism, Masochism, Dry Humping, Orgasm Denial,Cervix fucking, Dom!Oliver, Subspace, Corruption Kink, Humiliation,
This film opened my brain and spilled out everything inside.
𖤓
Because neither you nor Farleigh had ever been modest about your relationship, Oliver was made privy to every single bit of it. You both were so indiscreet and so hellbent on showing everyone else that you were together, it felt as if Oliver lived in your skin.
Whenever you and Farleigh cuddled drunkenly, Oliver was made privy. Whenever you and Farleigh exchanged sexually charged glances across the dinner table, Oliver was made privy. Whenever Farleigh was touch-starved and sank his claws around your throat, Oliver, always skulking in the background, was made privy. Whenever you two fucked. He was there.
Oliver could hear the two of you eating each other alive during a majority of his stay at Saltburn so he should be used to this behavior by now.
“What a slut,” Farleigh's words are wrapped in humid sweat, with his hands locked firmly around your throat, “What a good fucking slut.”
Oliver, having just decided to take a midnight stroll, watches from the shadows as Farleigh takes you right there in the courtyard. He may not particulary fond of Farleigh, still Oliver had to applaud that he at least had the decency to ravage you in secret. Oliver remains watching, not because it gives him any sexual gratification, but only because he did not imagine your sex lives to be this visceral… certainly not this animalistic.
“You are fucking filth, you know that?” Farleigh asks, rutting into you with your back pressed against a stone surface. Instead of your eyes fluttering shut, you were gazing over Farleigh's shoulder, staring straight ahead at the shadow skulking in the darkness.
Oliver held a finger up to his lips, prompting you to keep your mouth shut.
You watch each other as Farleigh fucks into you, continuing his words of mindless praise. “Gorgeous fucking filth-” and you both cum at that. Farleigh with his eyes shut, and you, with your mouth hanging open and your gaze stationed on Oliver.
Before this exact moment, Felix was the only thing that existed in Oliver's whole wide world. He did not notice you, but never ever think that he was not aware of you. In fact, as far as Oliver knew, you held no standing of any official significance in Saltburn.
Beyond, of course, being Farleigh's overcompensated whore.
You were almost as inescapable as Farleigh, but not nearly as annoying and for the most part, you played the role of a good little girl, forever glued to her unfaithful boyfriend’s side.
These are the thoughts that pollute Oliver’s mind as he drifts through the vibrancy of his own party, having left the maze and Felix's limp body in it.
Oliver's feet, clad in all-too-expensive Italian leather only seem to weigh him down as he drifts aimlessly through the egregious castle. Neon lights spill over a carpet stitched with cocaine and he has to fight the urge not to shove past the drunken bodies congesting his pathway.
For the longest time, Oliver was convinced that you were one of them: These people disguised as parasitic waste dancing underneath the moonlight, celebrating his supposed birthday. Instead, Oliver finds you here, taking up space in the Blue Room with your figure helplessly draped over the bed.
Your form is reminiscent of The Nightmare. One of Oliver’s most beloved paintings, reason being, because it was so unequivocally dreadful. He watches you as he would The Nightmare.
Your eyes are wet and your body is wracking with pitiful sobs into your forearm. Ollie may not be good at emotions but he can tell you're distraught- like one of Fuseli's girls.
Soon, the whole thing becomes too uncomfortable to watch and he clears his throat as he says,
“Shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't think anyone was in here.”
“Oh-Ollie!”
Your shoulders shoot up, and you nearly jump off the bed in apparent fright. Your eyes are wide saucers and your skin is dark in the moonlight. Ollie has to resist the urge to lick his lips.
He wanted to fucking eat you alive.
“Fuck, did I scare you?” He hunches his shoulders, making himself smaller than he usually was. “My apologies.” He had to appease you somehow in your startled state and you You quick to press a shaky palm to your cheeks, utterly devestated to find the surface of your skin wet and salty.
Out of all the parasites in this nest, you were the least bloodthirsty.
“How utterly embarrassing,” you coo, before wiping furiously away at your cheeks.
Sensing the perfect opening, Oliver steps over the threshold, polluting the space, as he did the rest of Saltburn, with his presence alone.
“Where'd you come from?” You ask before sitting up at the edge of the bed.
“Murdering my best friend.” Oliver answers cooly, with his wooden horns silhouetted by the moonlight.
As he creeps closer the moonlight highlights the crevices of your face and Ollie is able to capture the smile that cracks across your visage. He loves that.
You are so deliciously routine.
“Understandable,” you calmly shoot back, “Sometimes I could just fucking kill Farleigh myself.”
How curious. You thought he was joking.
“That's why you were crying, then?” Ollie asks, as he skulks about the Blue Room. He glides his finger across the dusty mantle before turning his eyes back to you, “You were crying because of Farleigh?”
He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it.
Your glittery brows curve again above your puffy eyes, just as your lips protrude into a shaky pout. Fuck he was so painfully hard.
“You'd rather eat glass than hear about my common relationship problems,” you chuckle, fighting back a sob.
“I'd rather eat glass than get back to that stupid party.” And his eyes are so genuine, you immediately believe him. “You'd be saving me, he says, before finally planting himself down on the bed beside you. “Promise.”
“Not much to tell honestly,” You shrug, causing the left string of your cocktail dress to fall off your shoulder. You leave it there. “ You know how Farleigh can be... He has somewhat of a-”
“-Communal penis?” Ollie interjects, “Fucking anything and everything that even vaguely gives him the time of day?”
“Exactly!” and before you know it, you're giggling in the dark with a stranger. “I get tested for STD's like I'm a fucking invalid-”
“The sexiest fucking invalid I've ever come across.” He's closer now. Close enough to tell you've been drinking.
With your eyes trained on his full lips, a thought strikes you suddenly. "Happy birthday, Ollie.” That is enough to snap his gaze up from your exposed collarbone, and up to your big, round eyes. He does not respond for several seconds, promtpting you with the devestaing thought that you might have struck some unforseen nerve.
“H-ave I upset you?” You ask in such genuine concern and naivete, it nearly causes Oliver to cum in his fucking pants. He needed to defile you so badly. He needed you to cry around his cock. He just needed you-
“'Course not," Oliver clears his throat before unclenching and clenching his wired fist, "It's just-you're the first person that's said that to me all night.” Your eyes are hazy now, with your brain having caught on to the very daunting fact that you're in a room with someone who perhaps has other intentions. He is leaning in before slithering his calloused hand on your thigh. Never ever do you move away. Never ever do you tell him off.
“I find that hard to believe-” your bones are rattling as the warmth of his palm spreads to the inside of your steadily opening thighs. “Surely Felix must've said-”
“Fuck fucking Felix- the world doesn't revolve around him!” You're corralled into silence, with this man steadily pushing you back against the bed. “We don't need to talk about Felix,” he looks absolutely ravenous as the tips of his fingers finally make contact with your clothed cunt. “Do you want me to make you cum?”
It's so blatantly filthy, you cannot help but arch your back off the bed and press yourself further against his fingers. “F-Fuck… Ollie-” your breathing is laboured and Ollie watches utterly mesmerised by the way your hips move against his hand.
“I h-heard something about you-”
“What did you hear?” asks Oliver before pulling down your soaked underwear.
“That you don't care about fucking on menses.” You say, awaiting a response but getting none because Oliver stuffs his face between your legs. He's eating you out with absolute fervour, with his nose bumping periodically against your clit.
“Where'd you hear that?” He mumbles against your cunt.
He did not expect to be so utterly taken by you. This is wholly unexpected.
“A certain bottled blonde- FUCK- J-Just like that- please, God, please-”
He only pulls away, only to shrug off his blazer. With his horns and his cock indenting against his pants, he looks absolutely terrifying, that only has you rutting in the air helplessly.
“You mean Venetia is not a real blonde?” He asks before shoving his face in between your legs once more, “I feel betrayed.” The sarcasm drips from his tongue. The same tongue that slithers out his mouth to lick hurriedly against your cunt. He suctions his lips against your hole, as if he wanted to taste inside you.
“I didn't fuck her-” He pants, before pushing his nose against your cunt, “I didn't fuck her all the way- FUCKING BITCH-” Sharp pain bleeds from his scalp because your fingers and its acrylics are buried in his hair now.
“G-God, yes, Ollie-” you're actively rubbing your cunt against his face, absolutely using him to get off. Almost immediately, Oliver immediately decides that won't do.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He asks, before pinching your clit causing you to still your movements completely. Your torso is wracking with sweat and your nipples pierce through the softness of your dress.
“O-Ollie P-please-”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He asks before removing his face from your cunt all together. You try desperately, to hold your moan, but the sight of him crawling up your torso seems enough to almost have you cumming untouched.
You fight against it. You fight against the warmth in the pits of your stomach, you fight against the urge to hump mindlessly into the air until your cunt creates friction with… something. You fight hard.
His breath is warm against your face, but never once do you look away.
“I use you,” he whispers before slithering a hand around your throat.
He squeezes.
“And I'd fucking die before I ever let it be the other way around.” He squeezes and squeezes until you're tapping furiously against his palm.
“Look at how gorgeous you look when you're not being a filthy fucking whore.” You can't help it. Your hips immediately buck up into nothing despite your shortness of breath. You're clawing at his wrists, hoping he'd ease his grip but Oliver does nothing of the sort. In fact, he only moans at the sight of your eyes sinking to the back of your head-
“Fucking, fuck-” He curses, before quickly undoing the vexing buttons of his pants. “Bloody disgusting,” he says, watching the drool ease out your mouth, “You are bloody disgusting-” he sinks into you the very moment he eases his hand away from your throat. You're gulping generously at the air as Oliver slaps against your cheeks, bringing you back to the land of the living.
“There she is,” he punctuates his sentence with a violent thrust, “There she fucking is-”
Pleasure and pain shoot through every channel of your body until you can't even decipher the two. “OH MY FUCKING GOD-”
“I love when you call me that, baby,” He mumers with his eyelids heavy, “I fucking love when you call me that, with your pretty fucking voice, you USELESS fucking bitch-”
It is absolutely sick and absolutely deranged. Every other word that skates out of his mouth is a contradiction of the last and you're utterly frightened of the beast taking you so roughly.
“You're taking it so well-” he whispers, before letting his hand squeeze your nipples through your dress, “Your cunt is taking my cock so fucking well, baby- Fuck-” when the head of his cock presses to that sensitive pillowy plushness, you're wailing in the dark like a banshee. Wanting to push him off of you, but not wanting the pleasure to end. Your struggle only brings him closer and closer to edge.
“I-Is that your fucking cervix, baby- Fuck-”
“Oh God- Ollie.”
He nods, “Now you're gonna cum for me, yeah? You're gonna cum for me and you're gonna think about your stupid cunt of a boyfriend. How he doesn't fuck you like I do-” your orgasm has already started to trickle in and your hips lift up to collide with his, “Tell me- Tell me you can't fucking live without me-” He says, “I need it to cum, tell me, tell me-”
“I need you, Ollie.” His lips stutter open, just as his thrusts become shallower and shallower “I need you to fucking live, Ollie-”
“FUCK- oh fucking fuck-” his spunk fills your insides, just as the entirety of your orgasm washes over you and you immediately realize that you're crying. You're crying because everything feels so good. Oliver has completely strummed you to orgasm. He has moulded your body into everything he needs it to be.
“I fucking use you.” He says, “Not the other way around.”
𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧
Oliver Quick
Gorgeous Fucking Filth | 2k words, Cheating, Aquaintences to Lovers, Dark fic, Smut
Farleigh Start
Love Me Less, Hate Me More | 3k words, Enemies to Lovers, Fwb, Dark fic, Smut
Stay tuned...
𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞
Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader
Summary: Hating Farleigh had never stopped him from using you
Content Warnings: Language, Fwb, Forbidden Relationship, Unedited, Dark Fic, Dark Humor, Coarse Jokes, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smoking, Weaponizing!Ollie, Smut (+18), Minors DNI, Slight CNC, Breeding, Neediness, Exhibition Kink, Grinding, Extreme Degradation, Humiliation Kink, Praise Kink, Hate Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough sex, Messy Sex, Spitting, Orgasm Control, Dirty Talk, Choking
He'd definitely bully me if he was real, and I'd be in love with him
"It's not like we're actually going to eat anything. Mother only insists we all make use of the furniture," Venetia's rambling is incessant as she walks briskly into the dining hall. You know her irritation is the by-product of the undiagnosed anxiety that comes with being forced into an uncomfortable Dior slip on such short notice.
In all fairness, you weren't doing so well either. The dress you are currently wearing is just as suffocating and Venetia's Saint Laurent heels dig into your bone. Your outfit is a velvety, laced up nightmare.
A torture chamber.
You wholeheartedly wanted to crawl into your own bed and forget about everyone and everything. In fact, the only thing keeping you mildly excited for dinner with The Henrys happens to be-
"Gentlemen!" You exclaim, before cleverly adding, "And you've brought Farleigh with you."
You all congregate at the left side of the dinner table, while the Henrys and The Henrys wives all mill about the dinner party. There are'nt any rules to things like this. It's all so self explantory.
What was not all too self explantory was your seating positions. Venetia forces you to sit in between herself and a very vexed Farleigh.
"How interesting," Farleigh barely addresses you in his tired monotonous lilt, "You're almost, nearly, just about, decently dressed." You bristle as you lower your behind to your chair, all while Farleigh shoots you a tight-lipped smile.
"Wow!" Your words drip with sarcasm, promptly halting Farleigh from flirting with the man to his immediate left - one of the Henrys closeted sons, no doubt. "That almost, nearly, just about sounded like a compliment!" You exclaim before leaning over beside him in a daring display of confidence. You place your hand tentatively on his thigh before whispering, "Am I going to have to use my rape whistle?"
Farleigh's scoff sends a string of lightning shooting down your spine.
"You're such a slut, I think you'd enjoy probably enjoy it." His breath is hot against your cheek and would be considered vile.
It should be vile.
Why can't you bring yourself to find Farleigh as vile?
With his elbows lowered underneath the table like a good little gentleman, Farleigh lets his fingers crawl tentatively over your thigh.
The games are on.
Your heart is beating at a million miles an hour with your mind reeling at not only Farleigh's large warm palm finding its home on your ample thigh but his words.
They are in complete contrast to everything you two have experienced together thus far on your stay in Saltburn.
As his fingers inch their way towards your inner thigh you're absolutely breathless. All you can think about is your escapade in the pool the evening before.
Both Catton siblings had been immersed in a very Catton argument, leaving you and Farleigh to your own devices on the banks of the stone pool.
With both your arms leaning over the ledge of the pool and Farleigh pressed to your side, no one could barely tell that Farleigh already had two digits dipped inside your weeping cunt. His hand moved slowly and deftly, so as not to cause too much of a stir in the water and give you two away. And he did it all while leaning his free hand out of the pool, cradling his copy of Jane Eyre with his eyes glued on the pages.
"F-Fuck Farleigh, can I cum?" He sighed at your agitated state.
"Not until I'm finished with Chapter 18." He mumbled almost distractedly, as if your needy voice was something akin to a pesky fly interrupting his reading.
Chapter 18, as you'd probably guessed, had never ended.
His cousins were back from their argument and his fingers left your cunt just as quickly. You had both went back to pretending to hate each other and you were left to 'rub one out' in the safety of your room like some hormonal teenager.
You truly are furious with him.
"What's this I'm hearing about a rape whistle?" Felix pipes up from the other side of Farleigh, equally dressed up all spiffy for the Henry's "You didn't rape anyone, did you?"
Farleigh's response is more of a hiss, "Of course I didn't-"
"Surely there must be more savory topics of discussion at the dinner table other than rape?" Comes the quick mediation of Elsbeth, who sits at the head of the table, clutching her string of expensive pearls as if they weilded the power to rid her of all these insolent little kids.
"Of course there is," you exclaim before turning your head to smile at the presence beside Ventia, nestled quietly in his seat like a little pauper.
Farleigh's manicured fingernails sink half moons into the skin of your thigh, peeking up from the slit of your dress as you lean away from him and say, "You must be Oliver! It's a relief to see another commoner around here." It was so undeniably petty to weaponize Farleigh's greatest foe, but the vexation of not being made to cum the night before still hangs heavily on your shoulder. And at the end of the day, you really just were a petty bitch.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ollie!" Slightly leaning over Venetia, the boy looks pale. As if he was biting down on his words. God, his tongue must be riddled in scars.
"Pleasure to meet you." Oliver cooly mirrors the warm and inviting smile stretched across your face.
"Don't lean over me," Venetia mumbles, "I'm not a child."
Meanwhile, Farleigh scoffs once again. While he injects himself in your conversation, his hands move swiftly to cup your vagina, nearly raking a gasp out of your throat in the process. "She won't sleep with you, mate." his brown eyes are trained on Oliver's. "She's a slut but not that big of a slut."
The extreme degradation laced in Farleigh's voice is enough to have you nearly moan out in front of all your friends, their family, and all the bloody Henrys.
Farleigh knew exactly which buttons to push to have you melting catastrophically against his fingers. He knew what words could have you slipping into subspace and he knew how to get your cunt weeping.
"Jesus Christ, could we not do this right now?" Venetia asks, staring pointedly at her cousin, and not at the sight of your legs parting to further accomdate his lazy rubbing against your cunt.
"I'm sorry, Cousin," Farleigh replies, "but it's not my fault your best friend is a raging bitch."
A breathless chuckle escapes your clenched teeth, "I-I'm not a-"
"Yeah, I am so completely done with this conversation," Venitia says, before strangling the stem of her wine glass and chugging it down as if it was nothing but water.
You turn back to hiss into Farleigh's ear, "You're such an a-asshole-"
"Say that again but don't sound like you're on the verge of squirting on my fingers in the middle of dinner." His grin is shadowed by the dimness of crystal chandlier and all the little candles posted along the table. "This is what you get for being a bitch," he says, socasually it makes you break your resolve by shifting in your seat, to better grind your cunt against his fingers, even for a mere second.
It's almost enough to make you cum right then and there.
"Oh-ho!" He aims a guffaw at the sky, "You really are a needy little slut-"
"This dress is shit," you suddenly push yourself out of your chair, creating the minimal noise of wood scraping against the floors. Most eyes are on you and Farleigh slyly removes his hands from in between your thigh. He leans over the table, bringing his fingers to his lips before spreading them over his gums like you would cocaine.
"I have to go change." You say to Venetia, before promptly (and very rudely) bowing out of the dinner.
A few seconds later, you hear Farleigh mumble something about needing a smoke and your heart rattles wildly in its cage. His footsteps are brisk behind yours, and you can feel his eyes sinking into your figure.
While your feet carry you to your destination and you let your brain catch on, you're already sneaking into Farleigh's room.
"Ah! Trespasser!" He exclaims excitedly behind you, with his hands stuffed in his pocket.
"You're so fucking annoying!" Your complains barely escape your throat before he's attacking you in a sloppy, open mouth kiss. He steals the air right out of your lungs, until he's breathing for the both of you. Farleigh slips out of his Abercrombie suit blazer, discarding the material as if it truly meant nothing to him.
His hands are everywhere, with special interests in your breasts compressed tightly by the uncomfortable stitching of your dress.
"This dress..." you mumble distractedly.
"Fuck this dress." He says, and you wholeheartedly agree. Perhaps it was desperate of you to turn in haste. Lifting the ends of your hair to present the zipper to him.
"You look fucking ravenous." He admits in a grave whisper, with his lips grazing the side of your neck, "I wanna fucking eat you." He says, "I wanna be inside you."
"You have such a dirty mouth, Farleigh," the groan that escapes his throat as he zips down your dress lets you know that you may have found your way in.
As the dress spills around your heeled feet, followed by your lacey underwear, Farleigh reattaches his full lips to the skin of your back. "What did you say?" His voice is like the rough gravel encircling Saltburn and you let your eyes roll to the back of your head as you arch backwards against him. His hardness presses against your ass and your fingers weave their way into his curls.
"I said youre a dirty boy, Farleigh." He ruts against you, almost as a second thought. "A dirty fucking boy,"
"Fuck," his hands dig into your hips, rubbing you against him. All as he pleases. "Fucking, fuck. I'm not gonna cum like this-" He says suddenly before spinning you back around.
It is few and sparse moments when you're reminded just how much taller Farleigh is than you and eventide it happens, the wind is knocked out of you. Farleigh advances on you like a literal predator until you're forced to fall backwards on his bed.
He barely undoes the bowtie, and only a few buttons go loose enough to showcase the beautiful expanse of his chest.
"You're absolutely soaked aren't you?" He asks, hovering on the bed above you.
"I need to cum, Farleigh, please-" You knew it was the only way to get what you wanted. You had unashamedly resorted to begging for a man who hooked his nails into your hair, forcing you to sit upright as he parted your legs.
"Look at you," he whispers before cackling maniacally. "You're so stupidly wet, you filthy fucking girl-"
"O-oh fuck, Fuck Farleigh," Your try by all means to grind your cunt into the mattress but is doesn't happen.
"When are you going to learn that I own your orgasms?" He whispers, with his other hand furiously undoing the belt of his fitted pants. "You don't cum until I say. You don't touch yourself until I say. You don't even fucking think about cumming until I say-"
"You're such a big little baby," you spit back, "A big needy, little b-"
You're once again pushed backwards and Farleigh's mounting you with his leaking cock locked tight in his fist.
You automatically lift your legs to present your cunt to him and he groans at the sight.
"I'm going to cum inside of you." He promises.
"I want you too."
Farleigh's eyes are heavy as he slides himself inside you. He looks down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. A treasure trove.
"Fuck- I need you to carry on talking." Farleigh says before shutting his eyes tightly. "Fuck you feel so good-"
"You're doing so well, baby," his hips rut inside you, accidentally pushing his cock in way too deep, way too fast and you both hiss and moan. "Such a good boy," you say with your hair finding his own curls, "You're being such a good fucking boy, Farleigh-"
"Open your mouth," you comply robotically. Farleigh places his hands on the underside of your chin before tipping your head backwards. His chains dangle above you as you stick your tongue out and he spits directly into your mouth. "Such a slut," he says, "Such a filthy fucking good girl." His words have you grinding your cunt against his cock until soon, you're both on the precipice of cumming.
"F-Fuck-"
"Such a good girl," he whispers, with his breath ghosting yoir face and the sound of skin slapping against skin only grows louder and louder. "S-So fucking good-" He whispers over and over again until your cunt clenches around his cock, promting Farleigh's orgasm with a quickness.
His cum spilling inside you has you slipping unceremoniously into your own orgasm and Farleigh wails in both the pleasure of your cunt milking him dry, or your fingers still pulling his hair like crazy.
"Fuck!" He exclaims before slumping on the bed beside you, "Get your fingers out of my hair, you psycho-"
"You love it, though," there's a teasing lilt in your voice, and all Farleigh does is scoff before patting down the pockets of his pants.
"You give me endless reasons to smoke," he says, before tipping his head back, unknwongly leaning into your embrace as your fingers coil through his soft curls.
"You'd smoke anyway."
I LOVE THIS BRO
I need them in my veins, no joke
yes i want more felix and oliver !!
a/n i love when people enable me :)
this could be read as taking place at some point after match burns (though this isn't part 2!) but can also easily be read on its own
---
The world has been dulled by a drowsiness so thick and full it's disorientating. You're so tired, so trapped in the state between falling and asleep that it's hard to think. Despite this, he somehow manages to be a bright spot, so warm and safe any and all thoughts of dangers lurking in the shadows are slowly vanishing.
You don't remember Felix getting here. You're not sure when he entered your room through your shared bathroom or when he laid down next to you or when he started tracing soothing patterns against your shoulder. All you know is that there was a nightmare that latched onto the ghosts estates this grandiose and ancient seem to attract and then there was Felix.
By morning, when you'll no longer need Felix to serve the purpose of daylight, you'll be embarrassed. Even now, you're still half-aware of the fact that there's a lot about this that you should find mortifying. Felix knowing to come in and wake you means you must have been showing signs of distress while asleep. Having a nightmare during your first night at Saltburn is a little pathetic, but it's something you can live with. However, needing Felix to stay with you until you fall asleep is a juvenile kind of pathetic that you don't think you could get through.
"Thanks for..." Your voice feels small and far away, but you don't think you can manage anything more concrete. "Waking me up."
Felix's fingertips continue the pattern they've been outlining against your skin without hesitation. "It's nothing," he whispers, "You were tossing and turning so much." Yeah, you'll definitely be embarrassed tomorrow. "Feel better now?"
You manage a nod. "Yeah..." Your eyes fall shut, you have to force yourself to open them again. "Better." Maybe if you sat up or--or moved away, you'd be able to focus. You shift, but you're too tired and, honestly, comfortable for it to be productive. "So, if you...if you want to go back...that'd be okay."
The lack of desire to get the words out paired with the need to remain polite, to make sure that he doesn't think you don't appreciate the gesture makes the words feel awkward. Felix's hand moves down to your arm. He angles his head forward, so close you can feel his breaths against your cheek. "Do you want me to?"
His words are soft, voice low and slightly gravelly. You're reminded of Felix in a world that feels so far from the one you're currently in, seeing him at parties, around the girls he'd pick from time to time.
There would always be a flurry of them around him, but you could always tell which one he was actually entertaining because of the way he'd become attentive. His ability to make someone seem like the only person in the world has always been fascinating. It's a talent that's more than romantic, too. It's part of the reason everyone always wants to be around him.
"No." The confession is faint as it accidentally tumbles past your lips.
The honesty of it knots something in your stomach. It's more than fear or the inability to fall asleep. You want Felix to stay. That's it. There's no reason or justification for it, you just...you want Felix.
But there are social boundaries, and things that you can't do with friends. Intentionally sleeping in the same bed, especially as close together and touchy as the two of you are being, is definitely one of those things.
There has to be a way to explain it without tiptoeing into territory that you're incapable of handling. Especially when it comes to Felix, who you spent an entire semester trying not to fall in love with. You survived by the skin of your teeth just to be invited to spend the summer with his family. You feel like an idiot for thinking you'd be able to get through this.
"Okay." He says it like it's that easy, like that's the only thing worth considering. "Then I'll stay." You're not sure if he can sense your uncertainty, but he's quick to tack on a justification, "Need you well rested." The vague feel of embarrassment attempts to nip at you again. "I know it can be hard to get used to it here."
It's a phrase that would seem like a blanket statement of instinctual politeness from anyone else, but from Felix it feels real, his understanding almost tangible. It's enough to make you fully ease.
"It's still nice, though." An understatement you would've never let slip past you if your eyelids weren't growing heavier by the second. Nice is such a bland term, it almost feels like an insult, especially when considering the fact that you're not just talking about his home. "I'm glad you invited me."
His touch has now moved to concentrate on your forearm. "I'm glad you came." A beat of silence stretches between you, your eyes finally falling shut. Felix's fingertips brush against the inside of your wrist. If you were any more awake, the carefulness of the touch would have gotten to you. "It is still nice."
----
The lack of light bleeding into the hall from beneath the door that leads to Felix's room makes the air entering Oliver's lungs feel stale.
It's late enough that the darkness could mean nothing. Felix's extra curriculars of choice have him in the habit of keeping strange hours. It's more common than not for him to up until the wee hours of the nights, even if there's nothing for him to do. However, from time to time the long nights will catch up to him and he'll fall asleep early.
Oliver can almost convince himself that that's all this is, can practically picture Felix fast asleep above the covers and only half undressed. He would be able to believe it if it wasn't for the soft glow illuminating the space beneath the door that leads to your room.
A familiar tightness forces his ribs to contract. Oliver swallows, stepping towards the door to Felix's room. He knows you to be a late night reader from time to time...
His hand is now grasping the door handle. There's nothing inherently strange about what Oliver's doing. Felix did say to come find him if Oliver had trouble sleeping. He pulls the door open slowly, taking his time to make sure that the creek of the old hinge's stays as quiet as possible.
Oliver peers into the room. The darkness isn't easy to see in, but eventually he makes out slightly tousled sheets on an empty bed and the door to the bathroom cracked open.
Of course it'd take so little time for you to completely pull Felix into your orbit. An entire semester of Felix doting on you and you managed to commit to keeping him at arm's length. One night in his family's home and you're suddenly no longer cautious. Maybe you're not as noble as you try to seem.
He's approaching the door to the bathroom, unsure if seeing it would be as unbearable as imagining it. Felix's hands on you, your body pressed against his.
"Hello?" Felix's voice carries over from the other side of the bathroom, slightly confused but casual. "Oliver?"
Oliver swallows, blood running cold despite the fact that all that he's been caught doing is justifiable. He forces himself to walk forward, to open the door to the bathroom fully. "Yeah."
Oliver crosses over, opening the door to your bedroom with an uncomfortable lump in his throat.
What he sees isn't--Felix is sitting up, the bedside lamp closest to him turned on, an open book held in one hand and your sleeping form holding onto the other. It's not the coming together, the snapping of tension and desire he had been imaging. In many ways, its something worse.
"Couldn't sleep?"
Swallowing down the influx of emotion that Oliver isn't capable of dealing with, he nods blankly. "Yeah. Still adjusting."
"It's normal," Felix replies easily, "She couldn't sleep either."
Felix's solution for you not being able to sleep was to crawl into bed with you. It shouldn't matter, he's seen the two of you get away with displays of affection more nauseating than this on campus. Lingering kisses against each other's cheeks and foreheads and jaws during a night out, holding onto each other at the few parties you agree to attend, Felix tucking you into bed after you drink. But this is--this is a touchiness not hidden under the guise of alcohol.
Oliver nods again. "Oh."
"Fell asleep quickly, though." Felix's thumb brushes up your arm. "Jet lag paired with Farleigh sneaking her one too many glasses of wine." Another empty tilt of Oliver's chin. "Y'can come here, if you want."
The offer comes out so casually, Oliver starts to wonder if he missed something. "What?"
Felix sighs, a hint of some lighthearted humor in the sound. "It doesn't need to be a thing, it's just sleep."
It can't possibly be that casual to him, can it? Especially with the level of care in the way Felix is touching you. And even if it is just a matter of sleep, this is still your room. "What about--"
"She won't mind," Felix dismisses easily. "She likes you." It's one thing to be friendly with someone, another for them to crawl into your bed after you've fallen asleep. "She'll get it."
Oliver's still not sure, his confusion affecting his ability to figure out which reaction will be what Felix wants most. He deliberates for a moment before stepping forward, approaching the other side of the bed.
Now that the overwhelmingness of the domesticity is starting to wear off, you do seem different in your sleep. More vulnerable. It isn't an unappealing way to see you.
He pulls the sheets back carefully, you stir regardless. You shift away from Felix's touch, moving onto your side. Of course you'd wake up just in time to take this from him, too.
You wipe at your eyes tiredly before squinting them open. It takes a moment for you to place yourself, but once you do, the slight confusion behind your eyes is nearly drowned out by an oddly warm confusion. "Oliver."
You bend an arm in an attempt to prop your head up. It takes you a second, but you eventually manage. Farleigh must have encouraged to have a little more than just a few extra glasses of wine at dinner.
"Y'okay?" Your tone is more kind than confused as you stare up at him with sleep still in your eyes.
The answer should be easy. Oliver should be working at accepting Felix's suggestion. The words are there, balancing on the tip of his tongue, but instead of getting them out, he's too focused on you.
It's a curious attention. Half asleep, hair tousled, makeup washed off, and the oversized shirt you're sleeping in sliding down your shoulder. All of these things should make you seem smaller, less eye drawing. Instead, being dressed down just adds a softness to your aesthetic appeal.
Maybe what makes you so appealing to Felix isn't as hard to grasp as Oliver originally thought. The thought twists in him strangely, jabbing at a part of him and encouraging another.
"Ollie couldn't sleep either." Felix gently squeezes your forearm. "I was asking him if he wanted to stay in here tonight, but he didn't want to overstep."
You blink, stiffening slightly for the first time since you woke up. The implications of Felix's statement take a second to fully sink in, but once it does, Oliver can see the hesitation coloring your features. "Oh."
Felix traces a pattern up your arm. You turn your head to look at Oliver again. "You've seen me before a 9:00 AM lecture after a night out and at every stage of finals week grief, I'm not sure there are any boundaries left."
You sit up, pushing yourself close to the center of the bed in a wordless invitation. Oliver swallows before letting himself sit down at the edge of the bed. He takes his time moving beneath the sheets. Your scent clings to the fabric.
The bed's not small, but with the three of you, it is a bit of a squeeze. It's reminiscent of being a little kid crawling into bed with a parent after a bad dream.
"You are pretty harsh during exams." Felix's voice is light, bordering on teasing.
Your mouth falls open in a mock gasp. You twist your arm, trying to push Felix off. He grins, easily resisting your halfhearted attempts to get him off of you. "I am not that bad." You're still pretending to want Felix to let go when you look back at Oliver. "Am I?"
To be honest, during finals you're constantly preoccupied. Even when you're meant to be spending time with friends, it's clear that your mind's stuck on assignments and exams. You're also prone to irritability. The only actual argument Oliver's ever had with you was mainly caused by the stress of an essay you were trying to finish. You apologized almost immediately after, but it's still the most angry he's ever seen you be.
The truth doesn't feel relevant. "You're perfectly lovely all times a'year."
You grin, Felix lets out a sound that's equal parts laugh as it is groan. "Don't tell her that. It'll go to her head."
You gently push at his shoulder, Felix exaggerates a pout.
Like all the praise you receive on a daily basis hasn't already gotten to you. You may not have a family name that carries weight, but you do have the way that people see you, a regular dorm hall darling with the grades and social circle to match.
You don't bask in the praise or let it change your outward appearance, but it has to inflate your ego. You've never implied that you come from a family that struggles financially, but you're not like Felix either. Holding your own with his kind must give you an inflated sense of self.
But this is another truth that serves no purpose. Not with Felix's teasing yet content smile and the attentive way you're watching him.
Oliver extends an arm, placing a hand on your knee. You sit up a little more, uncertainty briefly making it easier for you to be awake. It's not that you're never touchy with Oliver, it's that he's rarely the one to start it. "Oh, she's too much of a sweetheart."
It's honest enough. You are too nice to let anything openly go to your head. The words get you to finally relax at the contact. You must have decided that Oliver's just in a friendly mood. "Thank you." You then turn your head to look at Oliver, "See? Some people think I'm nice."
Felix rolls his eyes, letting his hand fall off your arm for the first time since Oliver's arrival. It's a small shift, but some subconscious part of you seems to notice, eyes instinctually searching for his hand.
"Since when are you on her side?" The comment, delivered with a tone that isn't quite teasing enough to cover the tinge of annoyance that still manages to bleed into the words, only confirms Oliver's theory.
Felix is used to being at the center. Everyone's eyes are always on him, everyone's affections are constantly available. He isn't one to be jealous in a committed way, Oliver's heard about enough of Felix's open flings to know he isn't like that. But he's territorial about those he feels attached to. If Felix Catton deems you worthy of his care, you make sure to make it clear to anyone else that that's all that matters.
The brief flash of defensiveness makes Oliver feel like he's standing a little straighter, a little stronger. "There are no sides."
"Yeah." You shift, leg moving off of Felix's as you try to sit up a little more. Felix's brow furrows.
It hits Oliver, then, that even though you want Felix's approval, you might not need it the way everyone else does. That must be part of the reason Felix is so drawn to you. Or maybe you're just that sure in yourself, in your place in his life that you're willing to push from time to time if the setting feels light enough.
But you're not happy with tension between the two of you, not even the kind that's barely implied. Oliver doesn't think he's ever seen the two of you argue, or look anything outside of completely content in each other's presence.
"We're just joking," you mumble, angling your neck awkwardly to look at Felix.
"Yeah, so am I."
Your gaze shifts over to Oliver, something knowing behind your eyes that he can't quite return. "Mhm."
Felix lets out an exaggerated breath before relaxing his spine and laying down. "Fuck off," he mumbles, the passive aggressiveness forced into the syllables not enough to hide his genuine fondness.
You look over at Oliver, "Can you believe him?"
A combination of being emboldened by the safety of your approval and the urge to feel as indispensable as you are makes Oliver want to joke back. "He seems moody, must be tired."
You laugh again, this time your body leaning towards Oliver until your head lands on his shoulder.
"Fuck off," Felix says again, "Both of you." His annoyance is still undercut by something warm.
Your head is still on Oliver's shoulder, the weight of it impossible to ignore but not exactly uncomfortable. You've stilled significantly, a fact that makes Oliver wonder if you've fallen asleep like that.
Then, you break the silence, "We're kidding."
"I've heard that before," Felix counters flatly. He stretches an arm, reaching for your fingers. "Liked you better asleep."
Felix squeezes your hand, keeping you awake enough to respond. "I'm sure the quiet was nice."
He sits up slightly, "You snore a little."
You're so offended, you lift your head off of Oliver's shoulder. "I. Do. Not."
Oliver waits a beat before adding, "Well."
You turn to look at Oliver, your offense clear. "How would you know?"
"Remember after that one party? You were so out of it, you needed help getting into your room and passed out before I could go." The memory is relatively recent, an end of semester party that you used to celebrate the end of your finals induced hibernation.
You pout. "You two are mean."
Felix runs his thumb across your knuckles. "Extremely." You part your lips like you have something else to say, but you're cut off by a yawn. "We should go to bed."
You tilt your chin up slightly, a potential protest that fizzles out almost immediately. "Yeah." You're tired, there's not even the good humored kind of fight left. "It's late."
You sink into the mattress, eyes shutting immediately. Oliver watches for a second, still unsure in a way he isn't used to. There's something about this kind of softness that isn't easy to place himself in.
Felix leans over, setting his book down on the nightstand. "Are you both settled?"
You nod, eyes still closed. Oliver's a little slower to react, "Yeah."
Felix switches off the bedside lamp. Darkness enshrouds the room. The bed groans slightly as Felix adjusts himself. Oliver follows, moving so that he can lay down fully.
He's closer to you than he's ever been. Your warmth radiates beneath the sheets in a way that's strangely soothing. Oliver isn't sure how he felt so awake just minutes ago. His eyelids are growing heavy. The last thing Oliver registers before falling asleep is Felix's hand on his shoulder, a too brief yet somehow still lingering squeeze that serves as a silent good night.
After I finish my current Saltburn fic? Does anyone have any ideas for Dark!Felix x reader ideas?
I have another idea in the works of dark/toxic!Felix with ex!Reader
I am also be open to writing dark!Oliver x Reader once I am don’t with the fic I’m writing currently.
Let me know in my ask box!
Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 5
Previous Chapter, Masterlist
Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. And if you end up murdering your English Professor for forcing you to be paired up with him, WHO COULD BLAME YOU???
Warnings- MDNI 18+, Mention of SA/SH, BDSM (sex dream), M/M/F sex dream, Felix is a pig, Reader claws Oliver's face, Michael loves Reader so much y'all, Farleigh is on Team Michael, Oliver is delusional and awful, alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic.
Author's Note: Finals are a BITCH, but I'm finally done...except I have to do my summer classes soon. But I really wanted to put this chapter out since it's been a while. Thank you all who've been reading this fic and sharing wonderful comments! They really help push me to become a better writer!
Michael’s head was about to explode in the next thirty seconds if fucking Farleigh Start didn’t stop digging his paws through his closet and drawers. No amount of clinking and clacking from tapping on his keyboard would be enough to dull out his shirts shuffled in his chest and hangers shrill screeching against the metal bar in his wardrobe.
“Dear God,” the Yankee, stick-figured giant groaned. “How many math pun shirts do you have? Don’t you have any normal ones? Oh my god, are all the pants you own khakis or Oxfam jeans? Do you seriously not own a single pair of corduroy slacks?”
He slammed his laptop shut. God-fucking-dammit, he was going to kill this asshole if he didn’t shut the fuck up.
“Maybe,” Michael gritted out, “if you just focused on the presentation we’re supposed to be working on, it’ll not bother you.”
Farleigh Start clicked his tongue. “Now, now – it’s not nice to be so testy. Most would consider themselves very lucky that I’m providing my services for free.”
The blonde-blind nerd balked when the word ‘services’ entered his ears. Immediately his mind thought of all the rumors that latched to Felix Catton’s mysterious American cousin – who apparently sucked off every teacher in England. Not that he was homophobic or anything – kiss, fuck, marry whoever you wanted, but he wasn’t interested in that sort of thing.
“Services – are you trying to suck my cock so I’ll do your work for you?!”
“…First off, ew,” Farleigh began. “Second, if I left you to do my side of the work, I’m about…86% confident that you’ll end up tanking my grade.” He strolled to Michael’s closet, pulled out a blue gingham-checkered shirt, and grimaced. “Thirdly, I am referring to how I am going to turn–” he nodded towards Michael in disgust “–this, into an actual suitor for our dear (Y/N). Or are you two still doing this little dance of being nauseatingly following each other around like sad puppies and giving each other bedroom eyes without actually fucking?”
Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the–
Michael slammed his laptop shut and tiredly rubbed his eyes. With a loud and audible groan that he dragged out, he rubbed his eyelids until he could see the kaleidoscope of stars and squiggles in the dark.
Fucking damn it.
“How many fucking times do I have to tell you?” he damn-near shouted. “It’s not like that between us!”
Farleigh quirked a brow. “The bedroom eyes or the not-actually-fucking? Because if it’s the former…yes, it is, but if it’s the second,” he brought his hands together in a slow clap, “then well done, Gavey!”
Michael shot up from where he was sitting and ripped the shirt in Start’s hands before throwing it back in his silky oak wardrobe and slamming it shut. Was it so necessary for him to be so fucking insufferable? Was he born this intolerable, or did his fucking cousin, Felix fucking Catton, infect him because being a coked-up narcissist was contagious via proximity or blood?
He heard a few clicks behind him, and the scent of Marlboro Gold cigarettes filled his room.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
Michael turned around and stared at his completely useless study partner for this stupid project for his Classics course that he needs to fulfill his fucking “General Education” requirements. Farleigh Start was leaning against his dresser and staring at him with the most judgingly empty gaze ever worn – all while holding a cigarette between his two fingers and getting ash on the floor.
Great – like it wasn’t a bloody fire hazard to cover his carpeted dorm in hot ash.
He shrugged. “What’re you on about?”
Farleigh took a long drag on his lung cancer joystick before exhaling deeply. His disappointed look made Michael’s eyes twitch in irritation.
“About a certain mutual friend we share and adore,” he drawled. “Whom just so happens to be in my dear cousin’s room right now…at night…on a weekend…alone.” He paused to take in Michael’s reaction and smiled. “Ohhhhh, so you do care.”
Michael shook his head. “Nothing’s gonna happen between ‘em. (Y/N)’s too smart for that.”
“Yes, you see – I know that…and you know that. But my cousin?” Farleigh scrunched up his face and made a wish-washy motion with his hand. “Ehhhhh…he’s more the type to think a giant, glaring red-neon sign with blinking lights saying ‘STOP’ is another giant, glaring purple-neon sign with blinking lights saying ‘Come Hither’ in porno studio 69 font.”
Michael Gavey rolled his eyes and reopened his laptop. “Whatever, I’m not worried.”
“You’re telling me that it doesn’t bother you that our friend is currently in the lion’s den with Oxford’s king?”
“Of course it bothers me,” thought Michael, “but I trust her more than I trust you.”
But Michael wasn’t going to let his forced-upon acquaintance know his thoughts, so all he said was…
“She’s not in the fuckin’ lion’s den, alright? They’re in the Bodleian. I’m going to pick her up from there in like thirty minutes.”
Farleigh cocked his head to the side. “Don’t trust our girl to make smart choices?”
“I trust (Y/N) just fine,” Michael bitterly retorted. “It’s your fucking cousin I don’t trust.”
Because he does – he trusts you so much. He knows how sweet and kind you were to everybody you thought deserved the benefit of the doubt. ‘Deserved’ being the very fine keyword in the detailing because there was no fucking way in hell you were dumb enough to think Sir Felix Catton of fucking ‘SalTbURn MaNor’ deserved your kindness.
Mary, Jesus, and Joseph – he wanted to strangle the old kook when he announced the assigned pairs.
It was Classics English taught by Professor Radcliff Michael Charles Douglas. He droned on about what materials would be on the end-of-term examinations. Everyone in the classroom, save for you and a few others, was either passing notes by throwing them across the room or staring aimlessly at the air with red-rimmed eyes.
“Ya’ ready, partn’r?”
You pursed your lips as a groan fought to escape. You would regret introducing John Sturge’s 1960 American Western masterpiece, “The Magnificent Seven,” to Michael Gavey if he kept up with that god-awful Texas accent.
You turned to your left and shot a blank glare at Michael. “Listen, Billy the Kid, we don’t know if we’re going to be assigned together,” you said.
“Come on, Professor Douglas always pairs the people sitting together as partners so far in the entire term. If it’s not broke, why fix it?”
“Melanie Brown…paired with Bryce Landon…Kemi Brown…paired with Amelia Sanders…”
You leaned on your elbow to whisper in Michael’s ear to drown out your professor’s blasé voice.
“Can we do our project on Hercules?”
He leaned back. “Why him?”
“I want to present on the glorification of toxic masculinity in mythology, and he’s the prime example.”
Michael chuckled. “You just want to piss off old Douglas up there.”
“Katie Caldwell…paired with Oliver Quick…”
“Is that so wrong?” you asked with a smirk. “You can either be one jump scare away from seeing Jesus or a product of institutionalized glorification of misogyny – but you cannot be both.”
Michael stifled a laugh. “You realize that takes away pretty much half of the English, Math, Science, and every fucking department on campus, right?”
You innocently tilt your head to the side. “Does it?”
“You’re terrible,” Michael snickered. “Completely evil.”
“Oh, please,” you swatted his arm. “You love me anyway.”
“Michael Gavey…paired with Farleigh Start…”
You and Michael turned to the front with disbelief. Wait…if Michael was paired with Farleigh…then that meant…oh, no.
“(Y/N) (L/N)…paired with Felix Catton. That will be all – no changes.”
Michael watched with wide eyes as your head slowly turned to the back of the lecture hall. He watched your face pale in disgust and horror when your eyes stopped at Felix Catton. Michael’s blue eyes narrowed at the lecherous grin Felix shot to you before he puckered his lips to blow a little kiss with a wink.
Your body involuntarily shuddered at the predatory implications. Michael watched as his best friend buried her face in her hands. He heard her say the exact same thought he was having.
These are going to be the worst few weeks of my life.
To say it bothered Michael that Felix Catton was making the moves on you, so to lure you to his sex dungeon of a dorm was an understatement. It was killing him to know that you were essentially forced into a vulnerable position, but when he brought it up to your professor, the old cunt-rag didn’t give two flying fucks.
“Professor Douglas, please,” Michael pleaded. “I really think it’d be in everyone’s best interest if you could make this exception this one time. I promise it has less to do with me and more for (Y/N)’s sake–”
But the ancient windbag wasn’t interested. “Whatever accusations you and Miss (L/N) intend to throw at Mister Catton, I am uninterested. Honestly, Mister Gavey, I expected this kind of nonsensical drivel from your friend, but to see you being caught in her schemes disappoints me greatly.”
Michael bit his tongue to choke down the tongue lashing he wanted to give. He wanted to tell this wrinkled ballsack about how the ‘fine Mister Catton’ basically assaulted you. He wanted to scream how worried he was when he didn’t see you for the rest of the day. He wanted to shout how when he knocked on your dorm and entered, he froze and paled at the sight of you crying your eyes out until they were red and puffy. He wanted to roar out the fury he felt when you revealed to him the incident with Felix Catton that morning in the empty lecture hall. The very same one where Professor Douglas taught.
*TRIGGER WARNING: THE FOLLOWING SCENE FEATURES PAST SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND A DISCUSSION OF THE TOPIC, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THAT, PLEASE SKIP OVER*
“I couldn’t do anything,” you whimpered. “I felt like…like such an idiot! I just froze and stared and did nothing!' You started to cry all over again, and Michael wiped your tears with his thumb before holding you close to his chest. “Hey, hey, hey – it’s okay. Freezing and doing nothing are two different things. You were stunned by what happened, and your body reacted the same way – anyone who tells you differently is a liar.” You shook your head. “I couldn’t even speak…it was like my body – it ju-just shut off on its own. My brain kept screaming, ‘Let go,’ ‘Get off,’ or ‘Stay away from me!’ But I…the words and my voice just failed me when I needed them the most.” Michael blurted out the first thought: “(Y/N), you need to report this.” Your eyes shot open in fear. “Michael, no–” “Look, I know you’re scared, but this is assault. He touched your inner thigh, and you clearly didn’t consent – that’s sexual assault, or at the very least sexual harassment! If you report it, at least the campus police know about this and keep an eye out for you.” But you weren’t listening. “Nononononono—Mikey... that’s not how it’ll go down. Even if I report it, they won’t believe me.” “You don’t know that!” “But I do!” you cried. You shot up and started pacing across the room. “I do know because I’ve seen it happen! Almost every girl I knew growing up—it happened to them! At school, on the trains, some at their own homes! Whether they knew every detail of their assaulter or just saw just a patch of skin – it didn’t matter!” You weeped. “And if I tell the cops, they’ll just throw away the report because they’ll think that ‘all he did’ was touch my thigh. Consensual or not, I’ll be labeled as some fucking crazy man-hater who’s grasping at straws to ruin a fine young man’s life and reputation.” You collapsed back on your bed. “I just…I can’t deal that kind of shit right now. Not with…” you took a deep breath, “Not with everything that’s happening right now.” “…What can I do to help?” Michael hated how his voice cracked. He hated how completely useless he felt at that moment. More than anything, he wanted to march to the campus police and report it. But he knew that by doing so…he took even more control away from you by going behind your back. And then he would be a no better monster than Felix Catton. The idea of him going beyond the point of no return made him clench his fists until his knuckles turned white. But when you touched his hand, all the tension flowed out of him like a creek. “You already did the best thing anyone could do for me right now,” you reassured him. “You listened to me. You cared enough to look for me when you felt something was off. You reached out to me and stayed and listened. And most of all…you believed me.” Michael felt his throat go dry. You looked at him with so much trust, as if he were the safest place in your world. He wanted you to look at him that way forever. “I’ll believe you,” he swore. “I’ll be there for you – no matter what. I promise. Whenever you need me, I will be there.” No words can describe the relief you felt from hearing Michael’s promise. When you entered Oxford's campus, you never expected to meet someone as endlessly loyal and trustworthy as him. You were prepared to keep your head low and remain friendless for the next four years. You were ready to spend the next 1460 days crying your heart out from homesickness and imposter syndrome. But somehow, near the beginning of your first term here, you met Michael. And you were so grateful for him. You leaned in and lightly kissed his cheek. “I know. I know you will.” And you believed that with all your heart.
*TRIGGER SCENE END*
Michael promised you – gave his word – that he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. But, fuck, this asshole was making it hard to keep that promise.
“Mister Catton is a fine young man…”
No, he’s not.
“…one whom I have full faith will end up as remarkable as his father and grandfather before him.”
They probably pulled that same shit, too.
“A man with a future as bright as his does not need some upstart with delusions of grandeur to dismantle an institution as fine as Oxford blatantly spewing out trash about him.”
It’s not trash.
“Unless it was something with proof and worth my time?”
Michael looked at his Classics professor with empty but enraged eyes. “…No, professor. It’s just a personal matter between me and Felix – (Y/N) has nothing to do with it. She’s just…protective, I guess.”
This surprised the sagging skin suit. “Hmm, well, that sense of loyalty from such a strange girl is surprising, to say the least – especially when you take account of her…troubling background as an American from that horrible city. But perhaps there is a chance of decency in her, after all.”
Michael’s right eye twitched slightly. “And what do you mean by her…background?”
“Oh, come now, Mister Gavey. She’s a New Yorker. That city is full of…of…gang-bangers and drug addicts.”
“Her dad’s a professor at NYU, and her mum works for the buildings that host Broadway shows.”
Douglas scoffed. “HA! New York University – what a joke. A campus that’s filled with hippies and no class. And Broadway? Of course, Miss (L/N) is connected to the theatre community. Now, if that’s all, Mister Gavey, I have an important meeting to get to with the chairman of my department. I trust that this matter is settled?”
No, not even close.
But all Michael could do was clench his fist over his backpack’s strap. He forced an unconvincing smile and tersely nodded.
“Yep, won’t get any more problems.”
When old man Douglas replied with his patronizing smile, Michael wanted nothing more than to knock out the rest of the tenured professor’s teeth with a fire hydrant.
So…no, Michael Gavey was not at all okay with the fact that you were with Felix Catton. He was not OK with the idea that you were within ten feet of that depraved vampire.
All he could do was be reassured you were in a very safe and very public space with lots and lots of people who could serve as potential testimonial eyewitnesses if Catton tried anything.
…Provided that Catton Sr. wouldn’t be able to pay off everyone, their third cousin, and their dog.
You wanted to die. You wanted to literally sink into the ground. You wanted there to be a sinkhole to open under you, swallow you whole, close up, and you would never see the light of day again.
…Actually, you wanted all those things to happen to your useless fuck of a project partner.
“Y’know, if you’re bored here, there’s a party going on at one of my mates’ flats not far from here.”
Felix moved to the seat right next to you and limply swung his arm over your chair. “So why don’t we–”
You shot up and moved one seat over. “Considering how we’ve been working on the research for almost two hours, and you haven’t gotten any work done,” you bit out. “Getting wasted and losing more brain cells isn’t the right call.”
Taking your open hostility as a challenge, Felix continued to move closer to you. “Exactly! We’ve been at this for two hours, and nothing got done!” His face was inches from yours, and you could smell the rank stench of craft beers and rancid cigarettes on his breath. “So, what’s the harm in having a bit of fun?”
Oh my – this is getting fucking ridiculous.
You started to pack your bags and gather all the borrowed books. “Parties aren’t my idea of ‘fun.’ And I already told my friend to meet me–”
“So bring him too! The more the merrier!”
You took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten. “Our presentation is due in a week, Felix. One week to hand the paper in and present our topic to the class.”
You swung your backpack over your shoulder. “I take my coursework very seriously, and to say it’s frustrating to have a partner who doesn’t take it as seriously as me would be a supreme understatement.”
“I think from now on–” a swift *RIP* echoed between them as you took a page out of your college-bound notebook. You quickly jotted down instructions for topics so simplified a child could figure it out, “– it’d be best if we work separately.”
Felix shot up from his seat with a panicked look. “Wait, now hold on – let’s not get hasty.”
“I already have a basic outline for the paper - I’ll type up the paper,” you continued while not looking at him. “All you have to do is find the books I’ve so nicely labeled on that sheet of paper I’ve given you.”
“Wha-what happens after I find them?” Felix stammered; his heart broke from how his time with you was so cruelly cut short.
But your tone and body language remained as rigid as it was apathetic. “You have my email, you have a laptop – figure it out, genius. We’ll meet up at a specified time and place; you hand me the books, and we move on with our very separate lives.”
You walked out of the crowded library and toward the nearby bench where you and Michael agreed to meet when he picked you up. You barely had time to sit down before you were bombarded with the presence of a much worse pest stuck to your shoe.
“You get off on bein’ a downright bitch?”
God, was every asshole trying to piss you off tonight?
You turned around with a prominent scowl that further deepened as your eyes took in the insufferable bastard who was clearly trying to pick a fight with you. You don’t know why you bothered to look for confirmation. You immediately knew who it was just by the sheer arrogance oozing from his tone.
As an artist, you had a special relationship with the color blue. In the summer, there was a point in the early mornings when it felt like the world was bathed in it. There was even a period when you were downright obsessed with it. You loved anything and everything blue: the sky, the ocean, hydrangeas, the Obrina Olivewing butterfly – but eyes, you loved painting blue eyes.
You thought of them as these warm, magical rarities that belonged to the stuff of fairies and Disney princesses. Of course, you also knew the popularity of the usage of blue with winter and death, but you never felt that duality…until now.
Because as much of a slimy bastard Oliver Quick was, you had to hand it to the guy…he was one of two people with some of the bluest eyes you’d ever seen.
Which gave you all the more reason to hate him. He made blue eyes look so cold.
You clenched your backpack strap. “I’m not in the mood, Quick.”
Oliver scoffed. “I’d disagree – you’re always in a mood.”
“So stop talking to me,” you snarled, turning around. “And go away, Michael’s meeting me here soon.” You started to walk away when you heard Oliver speak again.
“I’m surprised he hadn’t dropped you left,” he maliciously quipped. “With you and Felix and all that.”
Your nails dug deeper into your backpack strap. “There is nothing between me and Felix – nothing at all.”
“Yeah, for now,” Oliver shook his head. “But you’ll be crawling to him with your hands and knees on the ground, worshippin’ him like he’s Hercules or Apollo.”
He leaned in closer from behind you. “And you’ll compare Gavey to Felix and look back and wonder ‘how the hell could I have missed being with Felix Catton over some pathetic’–”
Stop it. *clench*
“–unimportant–”
Shut. Up. *dig*
“– know-it-all –”
I hate you. I hate you. *pierce*
“– nobody.”
You turned around and dug your nails into his face as you poured every bit of rage and disdain for the single most insignificant person you’ve ever met in each word that came out of your mouth.
“Enough,” you roughly whispered. It was taking everything inside you to stop lashing out even further. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”
“What? Plan to –” Oliver winced as you cinched onto his skin.
“Of all the mind-bogglingly,” *clench* “douche-like” *dig* “and despicable” *pierce* “crap you’ve spewed out,” you rasped. “Implying that I would ever choose as dull as Felix Catton over someone as rare and wonderful as Mikey has got to be one of the worst.”
“Do not push me any further, Quick,” You felt him tremble as you slowly released him from your grasp. “I’ve tolerated too much from you and the object of your obsession for far too long as is.”
You stepped back and gave the boy before you a good, hard stare. You never felt rage so deep, so demanding.
It was exhausting.
But you heard your name being called out from your left as you turned your head to see Michael waving to you with his arm high in the air. Had it been anyone else calling out your name, you wouldn’t have felt so quickly eased. You were about to move ahead to meet him halfway in the distance before Oliver’s voice stopped you.
“…What could possibly make him so special?” Oliver pathetically whimpered. “Why would you ever choose him when someone as bright as Felix is begging for you? Do you know what being with him means for you? What it gives you?”
…Was that it? Was that his best shot to get under your skin?
Looking at Michael, you answered him without meaning to.
“There’s no point in explaining it to you,” you calmly stated. “And I think you’ve wasted enough of my time.”
You picked up your stuff and left him alone with his thoughts. As you walked away to join your friend, you could feel his icy sapphire eyes digging into your back. Michael could feel how tense you were and asked if there was anything he could help with – but you waved away his concerns, stating that you had already wasted too much of your time with Felix and Oliver and didn’t want to waste anymore. Slipping your arm over his, you snuggled closer to his side and let the familiar scent of old math textbooks and coffee comfort you.
Oliver would make you pay for what you did – you’d be naïve to assume otherwise. He won’t do it directly, but it will happen. He’s the type to drink poison and expect you to die…only to learn too late that it worked as you lay on the ground bleeding and screaming your throat raw for help.
But right now, you were with your best friend; you two were going back to his dorm for a best friend sleepover, and it’d be enough.
…Yeah, it’ll be enough.
Oliver needed to make a plan – and fast.
Getting into your good graces was no longer a viable option for him; you made it annoyingly clear of that by the way you attempted to maul his face off. He gingerly touched the claw marks you imprinted on his cheeks as you tried to dig for his blood and bone with your nails. A corner of his mouth went up as he remembered your viciousness. He could practically taste the blood that nearly trickled down his cheek after you pierced his skin.
He hadn’t expected such a blatant display of violence from you, of all people, let alone on the campus’ hallowed grounds so near an establishment as ancient and crowded as the Bodleian.
For you, sweet, innocent (Y/N), to show such open hostility…to know he urged that beautiful, dormant impulsiveness to emerge…it thrilled him like nothing else. At that moment, he so clearly saw it. A darkness that was hidden deep inside you – bursting open from your carefully stitched seams. A deep desire for more in the dull, dull life God cruelly set upon you. Why else would a sweet, little all-American girl such as yourself travel all across the Atlantic to one of the most prestigious universities?
No, you were like him – exactly like him. Your reaction to his goading only proved that to him.
You weren’t used to it – that much was obvious…but that meant little to him. If nothing else, Oliver was resourceful. He’d learn more and more about what makes you tick before plucking you piece by piece into what he needed you to be for him. He’ll watch you explode before making you fizzle.
The idea of you at your fiercest – only for him to break it down bit by bit until all that was left was a more…subdued version of the hardheaded American girl from the Big Apple who loved to aggravate him during her first-year days at Oxford.
The thought alone made him salivate.
He could only dream how you’d be in bed. Your tight, hot little body would be squirming and writhing from the pleasure he and Felix bestow upon you. You, helplessly lying on your back while being fucked dumb by the two of them.
God, he felt himself getting hard at just the image alone – to make it a reality…that sort of victory, along with having Felix, would be nothing short of heaven for him. He unbuttoned his jeans as he took out his hardening cock into his hand. Not wanting to bother himself by starting slow, he immediately stroked himself with a rough and unforgiving pace. He wanted the pleasure from the fantasy to overwhelm him.
You looked perfect—replete, ethereal, and effervescent. Your entire body twitched as your eyes were blown wide, and drool dribbled down your chin. You put up quite the fight; the scratch marks on his and Felix’s chests proved that. But seeing you on your back on red silk sheets with your wrists and ankles tied to the bed posts made the struggle worth it. The red and pink bite marks that begin from the column of your slender neck down to your plush and tender inner thighs made for a prettier picture you could ever paint. “Oliver,” you pitifully rasped. “P-please, m’sorry – AH!” Your body jolted, and your back arched as he slapped your swollen clit. He struck his hand down one, two, three more times and watched as you thrashed and cried before another peak was forcefully ripped within you and came gushing out. God, how many times was it at that point? Three, four? It must have been quite a high number, judging by how tightly your cunt clenched onto his fingers when he thrust them inside you. “Look at her,” Felix cooed from behind Oliver. The Saltburn heir’s hulking frame towered over his lover as they watched their pet beg for mercy. “You almost feel sorry for her.” His hot breath panted into his ear as Oliver shivered in delight. The Quick boy gasped when he felt Felix’s large digits begin to enter his tight, puckering hole. “Take your fingers out,” he ordered. “And stick your cock inside her. You’ve been so good to me that I’ll let you fuck her sloppy cunt while I finger-fuck your arse.” Oh god, yes. Oliver took out his fingers and immediately positioned his hard cock at your leaking pussy as he spread your legs apart and forced your knees to press against your chest. “Wait,” you slowly blinked. “Wha…what’re you do–” Your back arched as Oliver pushed into you before thrusting into your cunt at a brutal pace. Tears were streaming down your reddened, flushed face as ecstasy-laden sobs filled the room. “Good boy, Olly,” Felix praised as he continued to push his fingers inside Oliver while the nails of his other hand dug into his hips. He let out a ragged gasp from how Felix deliciously stretched him out. He started out slow before moving his fingers at a faster and steadier pace. “That’s it, Olly. You’re so good – so good to me.” God, the contrast between the firm grips and harsh thrusts with gentle whispers of sweet nothings was like nothing he had ever experienced. And it only made the pleasure of Oliver plowing into your weeping pussy while you cried like a bitch in heat feel too good to be true. “Oh, you’re getting so tight,” Felix groaned. “You wanna come, don’t you? You wanna spill your cum into our pet’s little cumdump hole, right?” “Yes,” Oliver rashly answered before snarling to you. “You hear that, you dumb slut? I’m going to cum in you, and you’re going to take it.” “N…not i-inside,” you begged despite your walls clenching tighter around his cock. “P-please not inside!” Oliver just laughed. “You want it – oh, yes, you do.” He released one of your legs to grip your jaw and forced you to stare at him. “Don’t bother denying it. Your body knows how a whore like you is just desperate for me.” He chuckled as he thrusts into you even harder than before. “Well?” “Yes!” you cried out. “Yes, Oliver! Let me be your cumdump! I want your cum so badly!” Before Oliver and Felix permitted you to do so, you spilled onto Oliver’s cock, and the tightening of your walls, mixed with how deep Felix pushed his fingers inside him, made Oliver’s mind go blank – and soon, all he could hear was white noise.
Oliver slumped into his chair as a coat of sweat covered his entire body. Thick, white ropes of cum were still spurting out of his softening cock despite it coating his right hand. He ran his left hand through his dark curls as reality settled back in. Cold, bitter loneliness engulfed his body as he realized that you and Felix were not with him, and he remained as alone as before. A newfound determination to make his fantasy a reality soon took place.
His vision will be a reality. Felix will love him. And you will be their pet whose sole purpose in life is to take load after load of their pleasure.
But such things were too early to think about with how you were now. No…no, no, no…you were far too raw in your current state…too volatile…too stubborn…too American. He supposes it shouldn’t be too surprising that you latch onto fitfulness and inconsistency.
You were an artist, after all, and such was the fate of your kind to be destined to forever claw their way from the bottom as a means of survival.
But, however charming your unpredictability may have been in your concrete-paved, urban paradise that you call ‘home’ – that simply won’t do for him. He was more than confident that he could make you see things his way, but there were…problems needed to be resolved.
Namely, one in particular that came in ill-fitting apparel and bulky-framed eyewear – Michael Gavey.
Only an utterly blind idiot would miss how you pathetically secure your entire emotional well-being onto him. Oliver watched in total desolation and disappointment at how your glorious rage dissipated at the sight of him. But a part of him was equally as impressed at the mask you so expertly paraded, going so far as forcing your body language to adapt to the circumstances.
But…it wasn’t a mask, was it?
You looked at Michael Gavey the way he looked at Felix – complete and total worship. Michael Gavey, for whatever reason, was your sun, moon, and stars. The way you protected and so ardently adored him made the conclusion all the easier to reach.
Suddenly, it all became clear.
Of course…how did he not see it? The answer was so obvious. What better way to force you to his and Felix’s side…than to separate and condition you?
Isolation was a cruel and sadistic thing to thrust upon anyone – let alone who had so few friends in a foreign country like yourself. But he knew how much of an effective tool it could serve for him. Oh, it would be arduous initially – yes, it will. But it would all be worth it in the end. After all, in a way, this was your fault. If only you had complied with him when he was being nice, he wouldn’t have had to resort to such drastic but necessary measures.
Oliver darkly chuckled to himself.
Yes…everything would turn out in his favor. He’d make sure of it.
Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindno, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes, @paradisepoisons, @pansexualpamandabear, @erikasurfer, @lissamans, @cookielovesbook-akie, @thesmutconnoisseur, @izzyisstuff, @lariisouz, @ma1dita, @jeondeluxe111, @itszzmoon, @wolfeginny, @mioshasworld, @bre99
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Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go pray to my ancestors and beg for their forgiveness for writing Oliver's POV 🥲
— ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ
Oliver Quick x fem! Reader
Content warning . drugging, non-con, pussy slapping, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms. MDNI
The first thing that settles over you is the heat between your legs.
Soft silk sheets rub against your bare body, and cool air seeps in between your thighs. The throbbing of your sex is borderline painful.
You whine out, your limbs heavy and relaxed. Towering over you, you see Felix’s dearest companion. Owen? Odis?
Oliver.
Yes, that’s his name— not rich like the others, but handsome and fit. A bit quiet, a lot weird. You remember catching his eye across Felix’s house party. You remember wandering in an empty corridor.
The rest is a blur.
He smiles when your lashes flutter. Your eyes widen when you process the fact that you are, in fact, nude in front of this stranger. Your arms feel like sand as you try to lift yourself up. You raise up on your elbows, and nausea rolls through you like a storm.
“No, no,” Oliver coos, pushing you back down gently. “No, sweet girl. Stay right there.”
You obey, feeling too numb to try to escape any further. You let out a tiny whimper when you feel a hand trailing up your thighs.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
He says it with great intrigue. As if you’re a science experiment worthy of his exploration. As if you’re an object. Your bottom lip wobbles, and you nod weakly.
“Poor thing,” he sighs out. His free hand goes up to stroke your hair. “You want it to go away, don’t you?”
You let out a tiny cry. You nod. You don’t know why, but all you can think about is Oliver’s hands on your skin. They leave trails of electricity in their wake.
“Okay,” he says softly. “I’ll make it go away. Be a good girl, open those legs for me.”
I can hardly move, you want to tell him. But he seems to notice quick, and lets out a tiny chuckle.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. ‘M so forgetful, aren’t I? Yeah? Here…”
He pulls apart your thighs, and your cunt clenches when you catch sight of the hungry look on his face. He licks his lips, watching your sticky lips peel apart as your most intimate parts are revealed to him. His thumb rubs against your inner thigh, teasing.
“‘S too bad no one’s played with this little cunny tonight,” he says. “So beautiful. And practically drenched. I can’t wait to eat you up.”
You mewl, your hips weakly moving to try and direct him closer to your heat. He shakes his head, as if to say, “no, don’t do that”. His hand comes down on your pussy, hard. You nearly yell from the stimulation, his rough fingers landing harshly on your little clit.
Seeing your reaction— all fucked out, pussy dripping even more slick if possible— Oliver slaps you again. Your legs clench up, but he pulls them back apart. He does it again. You let out a cry. He watches with focused eyes as he does this, all the while his lips turn into an unsettling smile.
“Look at you,” he teases, and slaps the rim of your clenching hole. “So fucked out from a little spanking. Maybe I should get you to cum like this first, yeah? Get this little snatch all swollen and bruised? Then I can fuck you, after that. Leave little bruises inside you, too. Mark you up, put some cum inside your little tummy.”
Usually, you would be sickened by such filthy words. But whatever Oliver had done to you is making you act in completely depraved ways. You let out a moan, a tiny “oh, please” leaving your lips. You have no idea what you’re begging for.
Oliver says nothing. Instead, his hand comes down on you again, and then another time, and another. And finally, with all the tiny sensations buzzing through you, you find yourself beginning to fall face first—or should you say, cunt first— into your orgasm. It seems Oliver knows every motion and detail of your release, smacking your clit at the perfect times to forcefully make you ride out your sweet high. You let out strangled sounds, tears falling out of your half shut eyes, your release dripping onto Oliver’s hand. He smiles as your breathing evens out and you come down. His fingers massage your pussy slowly, soothing the bruises already forming on the sensitive skin. You ease in and out of consciousness for a moment, and when you come to Oliver’s head is between your thighs.
It’s like heaven. Compared to his harsh hits, this is extremely gentle. He’s messy and sloppy, tongue scooping up your release from your hole, spitting it back down and massaging your clit. His big hands are splayed across your thighs, wrapping around them and pulling your pussy as close to him as possible. His eyes are shut, as if in ecstasy, and he moans into your cunt as he eats you.
Looking down, you can’t help but lazily move your hands up to his soft brown hair. Your head tilts back, your mouth half open. His saliva soothes the burn from his hands and drips down in between your ass cheeks. The tip of his tongue glides down to the soft skin between your ass and cunt, and he runs circles into it. He moves back up, up, up. His mouth drips with slick as he pulls away and grins.
“There she is,” he says. “Good nap, sweet girl?”
Your mind can’t bring itself to understand that he’s joking.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Mmghh, more..”
“More?” He says, amused. “Mm, okay...”
He dives back into you. His thumbs go to either side of your pussy lips and spread you apart, giving him more access to your tight hole. He slips his tongue inside and massages your inner walls. Your back arches and you let out another desperate whine.
“Ollie,” you say, your words barely audible to yourself. He groans, his tongue flicking over your clit in the most delicious way, and your creamy spend soaks the boy’s tongue as you cum for a second time. He slurps it up like it’s his last meal, throat gulping down every single drop of your sweet nectar. When he pulls away, he wipes his chin on his wrist.
“So cute,” he says. “You already have a nickname for me.”
You bite your lip, vision hazy but you can still see the perfect picture in between your legs. Your cunt twitches for a third time, definitely not from your body’s own natural doing but still, it twitches nonetheless. You look down in between Oliver’s meaty thighs, see the thick bulge hanging heavy in his underwear. Your mouth waters, but you know right now isn’t the time to be sucking his cock. Not with how sick you felt earlier.
Oliver shoves his hand into his waistband, pulls out that drooling length that he’s been aching to touch for the past hour. He gives it a few sharp tugs as he positions it up against your entrance, making sure to get it nice and wet.
When he pushes in, it’s like a grating, irritable burn. Even drugged and fucked out with two loads lubricating you, he’s still so big. You sob, letting him go at his own pace. How could you do anything else, after all? You can’t push him off, can’t do anything but sit there and take what he gives you. Oliver grunts when his heavy balls press flush against your cheeks. He can’t wait to empty the big sacks into your gaping pussy, to breed you with his creamy seed and fuck it into you some more. He begins to pound your weepy cunt with no remorse, no mercy. His hips slap against yours loudly, shaking the bed and damn near the whole headboard. He grits his teeth, watching the way your doe eyes look up at him, your pupils heavily dilated. Oh, how beautiful you are, all drugged and pliant for him.
“Such a tight, creamy little cunt,” he groans out. “Knew you’d be perfect. Knew it’d be so easy t’just… fuck my cock right into you. You’re a dream, sweet girl. A f-fucking dream, y’know that? Yeah, it was so easy, wasn’t it? To just slip that pill in your little red cup. Best idea I’ve ever had in m’fuckin’ life..”
You don’t care about his words. Not right now. His cock is moving in you, awakening something primal deep in your guts, as his cockhead kisses your plush cervix, as his gooey precum connects to your plush lips and his cock in white, creamy strings when he moves in and out, in and out. You don’t care at all.
Even when he spills inside you with a loud, animalistic yell, you don’t care. He sits against you, rubs lazy circles against your clit, and makes you cum for a third time.
You pass out on the sheets without a second thought, and wait ‘till morning.
Catch Me If You Can
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Paring: Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader
Word count: 3533
Summary: Living at Saltburn you’d had repeated nightmares about getting lost in the labyrinth. What happens when your nightmare becomes true?
Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) unprotected sex, choking, stalking? Kind of?, being drunk/drugged, being chased/threatened with a weapon, dub con, generally fucked up smut overall, lots of mentions of blood, pray/predator vibes
You stumbled through the darkness down each twist and turn of the labyrinth, the blood rushing through your veins, that’s when you hear it. The crunch of gravel under a foot that wasn’t your own and in that moment, you knew you weren’t alone.
That’s how the nightmare always starts. You’d gotten lost in the labyrinth at Saltburn enough throughout your childhood to know never to go in there without telling someone where you were. You’d had the same repetitive nightmare for years; you’d go in and never come out. You didn’t know why this stuck with you as much as it did, but it did, nevertheless. Because of this you made it your mission to memorise every step, you knew exactly which way led to the middle, exit and every dead end, you’d walk the maze every day just to make sure that you’d never be caught out.
You’d walked it alone for years, that was until this summer. Felix had brought a friend back; you hadn’t thought much of him until he asked to walk the maze with you. It had taken a few adventures to warm up to him as he wasn’t exactly the most outgoing of men you’d ever experienced in your life, but he seemed well meaning and it was a nice change from constantly walking alone. You weren’t sure why, but for some reason he wanted to learn the labyrinth as much as you did.
You’d never accuse him of it, but it sometimes felt as if he was planning for something more. You had watched his confidence change over time as you spent your afternoons wandering with him. You told him about your nightmare in detail, he was kind and understanding, trying to reassure you that nothing like that could ever happen. Over the time in your presence, he’d gone from a quiet boy to a confident man, almost domineering you when alone but reverting into his old self as soon as you were around others. You had so many questions, you thought that he’d been holding back, and you wanted to see just how far he’d go if he really had you alone although you were certain you’d never say it or so you thought.
The summer sun beat down on the garden and the whole family had been drinking heavily consistently since noon. You’d been in and out of the lake all day, swimming for a while and then lying on the grass soaking up the sun. Members of the party came and went as they pleased until before you knew it, day turned to night. Throwing on a long white sun dress, you lay there until you were the last one left on the grass taking in the stars as you lay there giggling to yourself through a drunken haze. You’d been so taken by the events of the day that you hadn’t even realised until now that you’d missed your daily trip around the labyrinth. You knew it wasn’t a good idea, you hadn’t told anyone where you were going and although you weren’t the drunkest, you’d ever been in your life you certainly weren’t sober. This wasn’t enough to deter you though, you were determined.
Standing on shaky legs you made your way to the labyrinth with a little skip, although your nightmare was always at the forefront of your mind on any trip there right now you felt invincible. Your tipsy mind pushed any sense of danger to the background, right now all you felt was a fuzzy tingling throughout your body and an excitement for a late-night adventure. You made it to the entrance of the maze before you knew it, staring down the first path as you contemplated whether or not this was something you really should be doing. Within a split second you had decided, you were going in. You were certain, this was until something out of the corner of your vision caught your eye.
‘I wouldn’t go in there if I were you’ he says, leaning against the entrance of the maze. ‘Anything could happen in the dark’ he continues, his face lit only by the cigarette he had pressed to his lips, a wine bottle in his other hand.
‘Fuck, Oliver. What are you doing out here? I thought everyone had gone to bed?’ You asked, your heart racing in your chest. It was just Oliver; you knew you were safe with him you thought to yourself.
‘Couldn’t sleep, not knowing you were out here alone’ he says continuously smoking and seeming to be avoiding eye contact with you, staring at the ground in front of him. Something was different, you knew he was at least a little drunk too so maybe that was it, but something felt off.
‘So, you came looking for me?.. in the dark’ you reply, waiting for any kind of response but receiving none. You could feel the alcohol running through your veins, you knew that if you were sober this would have been enough to scare you and although you’d never admit it you were terrified and you thought you might even like it. ‘Well, if you don’t think I should go in there alone you could always come with me?’ You proposition, growing more giggly twirling your hair around your fingers. That drew his attention, still no eye contact but you could feel him watching you, watching the way your fingers moved together and how your dress fell against your curves as you shifted unable to stand still.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea sweetheart’ he says, taking the last few drags on his cigarette, flicking the butt off into the nearby grass. You feel a surge of confidence as you move closer to him, your body almost touching his as you lean in almost speaking in a whisper. Taking the bottle from his hand you take a large gulp, the red wine trickling down your chin staining the fabric of your white dress appearing almost like blood.
‘I think it’s a great idea’ you start, your face so close to his now that your eyelashes almost graze his cheek, pushing the bottle into his chest in a drunken attempt to give it back. You’d found him attractive for a while, he’d grown on you over the last few weeks, and you finally felt like it was happening, this was your chance. ‘I think you should come into the maze with me’ you giggle. ‘And who knows, maybe if you find me you can fuck me’ you say, that caught his attention. His blue eyes reflecting in the moonlight as his gaze meets yours, he almost looked angry.
This is not what he wanted, Oliver thought to himself, he didn’t want you, not like this anyway. He knew it was sick to think it, but he didn’t want you to give yourself to him, he wanted to take you for himself. As you flirted and giggled, he felt the heat rise in his chest, his heartbeat against his rib cage as his aggression soared. He thought of you as a pure little thing, he would have even said untouched if he hadn’t have heard stories from the others, but you seemed pure to him, nevertheless. He loved the thought of you helpless underneath him, for him to be both the villain and the saviour in your eyes. But hearing you speak like this ruined everything, you’d never spoken to him like this before, he didn’t want to hear you beg him to fuck you, he wanted you to beg him to stop. He’d come out here with a plan, he wanted to take you into the maze and rob you of any shred of virginity that you had left, but now with the way you were talking you were just a whore in his eyes. A slut that was unworthy of him. So, he stood there before you wordless, gazing down upon you in anger as his ocean blue eyes turned black, you stood looking up towards him as much as you could in your drunken state. You thought he seemed angry, but you were so drunk at this point that you wouldn’t have been able to tell either way, the alcohol from Oliver’s wine bottle hitting you way harder than you anticipated.
‘Maybe I can fuck you?’ He finally repeats back to you. ‘Maybe you’ll let me fuck you?’ He sneers as he stands straight, almost pushing you over as he moves closer, his chest pressed to yours. ‘Because that’s such a prize’ he continues, practically laughing in your face, if you thought he was flirting before you could now see, even as drunk as you were, that he was very much not happy. ‘Well then pretty thing, I think you should start running. Can’t catch you if you aren’t running now, can I?’ He says, so he does want you? You question to yourself. One moment he’s almost refusing you and the next he wants you? At this point you felt almost as much confusion as you felt fear. That was until he does it, he pushes you into the labyrinth making you stumble as he does, losing your balance ending up lying face down in the gravel as you turn back from your position on the floor to see him. With the moonlight shining from behind him he looked much taller and more menacing, the kind boy you knew was gone, replaced by only the silhouette of the body he once inhabited.
‘Go on then, run’ he almost growls out as your heart rate increases, you want to let out a scream, but nothing comes. Stumbling to your feet you immediately start running. Turning around to try and see if you could outrun him, you see him still standing at the entrance, then you hear it, the familiar sound of smashing glass. He’d broken the bottle against the statue that’s placed at each entrance of the maze, now only holding the broken neck of the bottle as he begins his pursuit towards you.
You run as fast as you can, rounding the corners of the maze in record speed. You knew the labyrinth well enough that you were certain you could get out before him, this is exactly why you’d been waking it all this time anyway. This was almost exactly like your nightmare you thought to yourself. When you first propositioned Oliver, this was not exactly what you’d imagined. You had pictured this going much differently, you’d giggle and run at an almost walking pace so not to make it too difficult to catch you. But this was wrong, he was wrong.
You didn’t know what exactly had changed within Oliver, but something was drastically off. The Oliver you knew would never have looked at you the way he did or spoken to you as he did. You were absolutely certain that your sweet predictable Oliver wouldn’t have smashed a bottle into a weapon and literally chased you down with it. While you may have practiced your escape from the maze many times, you now realise that you’d never practiced running it as you gasp for breath between each step of your quick moving feet.
Checking behind you Oliver is nowhere to be seen, your pace slowing as you think you may have lost him giving you some time to catch your breath. You stumble your way through the maze, you were sure you were about to get to the middle and make your way out but instead where the exit should be, a dead end. You were sure this couldn’t be right you weren’t lost, surely you couldn’t be. You begin to trace your steps back, finding the topiary equivalent of a crossroads. You see him but you're not sure he’s seen you, crossing in a slightly different direction heading towards the opposite side of the maze. Yet when you look another way, he appears to be walking towards you, and in another direction away from you. You swear you can almost feel him graze your shoulder as he passes you, his shoulder brushing past yours in different directions over and over again as you fall to the floor, crawling on your hands and knees as the hard gravel punctures the skin on your knees leaving behind a small trail of blood.
You knew there couldn’t be that many of him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rub your eyes. Finally, re opening them you find yourself alone, was any of that real? Was he even in the maze at all? You question yourself, your sanity in its entirety. You can still taste the red wine on your lips, you thought it tasted off at the time but now you were sure, you were drugged or at the very least incredibly drunk.
Stumbling to your feet you use the hedge to the side of you to re gain your balance. Just like in your nightmare you hear the sound of gravel crunch behind you, turning your head you catch the glimmer of light reflecting from the broken wine bottle just as he swings for your neck, screaming and running immediately as you hear his pace quicken behind you. You’d completely lost the grip on where you were in the maze, you could be at the exit for all you knew, but in this moment you just ran straight. The hedges seemed to lengthen as you ran, this singular corridor appearing never ending as you sprint. Almost as if you were in a dream you seemed to run on one spot like you were practically on a treadmill, going nowhere fast. You could hear him behind you, you were sure of it, you tried to look but the tears falling from your eyes blurred your vision too much. Continuing to run forwards you feel as if you can see the light at the end of the metaphorical tunnel, you can see the statue in the centre of the labyrinth dead ahead of you, a feeling of relief flooding your senses as you head straight.
You’ve made it, you’re almost out you think to yourself. Just as you meet the edge of the hedge facing the centre he steps out, your form slamming into his unmoving body forcing you to stop running.
‘Found you’ he says with a smirk, smiling down menacingly at you as his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. You knew you were facing the statue but as he begins to back you into a corner you feel yourself walk backwards into something hard, your body slamming into solid stone. Pressed against the statue at the centre of the maze you look around confused. Where were you? Had you been in the middle this whole time? You were certain you were facing towards it but now the statue was pressed behind you. Regardless it was of little consequence, he had found you.
‘Do I get my prize now little dove?’ He asks you without really asking, not waiting for a reply he wraps his hand around your throat, the other hand still wrapped around the broken neck of the bottle as he uses it to slice the fabric straps of your dress free from your shoulders, your dress falling to the ground. His hand tightening on your throat he leans in to kiss you as you resist, biting him in response feeling blood trickle down both of your lips, the metallic taste swirling around your mouth.
‘You think fighting back will stop me?’ He questions, your resistance only seeming to fuel his desire for you as he grinds his length into your thigh. ‘You thought wrong, dove’ he continues.
Throwing the bottle neck to the floor you hear it smash against the gravel in the distance, that’s one obstacle out of the way you think as he spins you around, pressing your chest into the statue that now stood in front of you. With one hand still around your throat you hear the jingle of his belt unclasping. The swimwear you were wearing from earlier in the day still firmly held against your body for only a few more moments as you feel his strong hands rip the fabric in two, throwing it to the side as you feel his fingers glide through your folds.
‘Fuck little dove’ You were almost embarrassingly wet, you hadn’t realised it until now due to the fear, but maybe that’s exactly why you were as you were. His words coming out as almost a whisper only meant to be heard by himself. To Oliver it’s almost as if you weren’t real, your skin was so soft, your entrance was so wet and warm that he could have been convinced that this was another dream of his and he’d wake up with his hand fisting his cock for relief. But this was real, he could hear your breathing below him quicken as he pushes his fingers into you, curling them as your hands tighten on the marble in front of you.
You moan as he lets out obscenities behind you, sliding more fingers inside of your tight hole, his eyes transfixed on the way his digits glide in and out of you so easily. Eventually removing his fingers from you, his grip around your neck tightens as he pulls your back to become flush with his chest, his free hand coming to cup just below your chin.
‘Spit’ he demands, grabbing your face slightly as he waits for you to drool into his hand. You look towards his hand as you spit into his open palm, a mixture of clear liquid and blood coming out of your mouth as he quickly covers his length in it, coating himself and you in the mixture as he thrusts up into you without warning.
Although you were outside, the slapping, squelching sounds seem to echo off of the walls of the labyrinth. You can hear him groan in pleasure behind you, enjoying the feeling of choking you as he gazes down at the view of himself sinking into you over and over again. He loved seeing you like this, his hand around your throat and your pussy covered in a mixture of blood, cum and spit as he pulled you back once again. His mouth meeting yours in a hurried kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth. Both of your breaths quickened you taste his blood from his split lip once more. As soon as the taste hits your tongue you feel yourself tighten around him, his free hand coming down to rub circles into your clit.
‘Cum for me little dove’ He demands as you moan, your head dropped back onto his shoulder. ‘Show me what a good girl you are’ He prompts as his fingers press harder into you, desperate to draw out your orgasm. ‘Fuck, that’s it sweet girl’ groaning into your ear as you ride out your climax around his cock, tightening on him as his pace picks up.
His movements becoming more erratic as he works towards his own peak, your body limp in his grip as he fucks you, exhausted from your own climax and over stimulated as he thrusts into you. Your moans must have been loud enough to be heard outside of the labyrinth you were sure, and now as you feel him throb inside of you, you were certain people must have heard him too. Without warning he spills inside of you, his cum painting your walls white as he bites down on your shoulder hard enough to draw blood as he climaxes.
Both breathing heavily he pulls your head back by your hair for one last lust filled kiss. His touch almost tender as he removes himself from you. You hear him fastening his belt as you hold onto the statue in front of you for balance, all of your clothing ripped and discarded on the floor you feel him place his jacket onto your shoulders.
‘You scared me’ you say with a slightly fearful smile, the evidence of your enjoyment in your voice as you speak out for the first time since entering the maze, your tone coming out rasp. ‘Maybe we should do it again some time’ you giggle as you move your ass back against him, eliciting no response other than the sound of his continued breathing. ‘Don’t you think so Oliver?’ You ask, hoping with all of your heart that finally after all of this your soft kind man would return to you but receiving no reply.
‘Oliver?’ You question into the darkness as you turn, your eyes searching for him despite having felt his touch on you only moments ago. But he was nowhere to be seen, the only trace of him being his jacket on your shoulders, his blood on your lips and the trickle of his cum now working its way down your thigh. ‘Oliver?’ You speak out quieter. He was gone and you knew it. Gathering your things you made your way back towards the house, was any of it real?
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The Dark King
Misc Masterlist | Read on Ao3
Oliver Quick x f!reader x Felix Catton
SUMMARY: Oliver just wants to be part of your world, he just wants to be by you and Felix's side, he doesn't mind being a teddy bear or a pet for the two of you, but once you accept him, you will never be able to get rid of him.
WARNING(S): SMUT (+18) DUBCON, Non-consensual drug use, threesome, facefucking, fingerfucking, vaginal sex, rough oral sex (f and m receiving) orgasm denial, possessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, classism, discrimination, some ooc.
NOTES: obsessed with this movie and just needed to get it out, hope you like it and sorry for the possible OCC and mistakes, thanks for reading.
He was not in love with you.
He liked that you were very smart and on scholarship even though you wouldn't need it because your family was English nobility.
He was not in love with you.
He loved the way you smiled at him, but he hated with all his soul that you smiled at others, especially Felix, which was a total disaster because you and Felix came as a package deal, always together, and had spent almost every summer at Saltburn.
Felix's mother and your mother had been best friends since childhood and you grew up bathing naked in the same bathtub and going dressed in suits and formal dresses to boring events.
Then he would freak out because he hated the way you two touched each other, looked at each other, and smiled at each other. He hated that the two of you were on an intimate level that he would never reach with you or Felix.
Because he couldn't tell who he wanted to please more, who he needed to please more.
You and Felix complemented each other so much that it was hard to know where he ended and you began. You were perfect pieces created to fit together and he hated not belonging to that and not being either of you.
But he definitely wasn't in love with you.
He loved you. He loved how good you made him feel with your sweet words or your effusive hugs.
He loved that even before Oliver joined his select group, you sat with Michael and him at the social misfits table.
Michael almost died when he saw you sitting next to Oliver in the university library. There were more tables free, why would someone like you want to sit next to someone like Oliver Quick?
Oliver had only said, "Sure, go ahead." When you had asked him if you could sit at that table.
"Uh do you two have to do a project together or something?" asked Michael extremely nervous when he saw that you were concentrating on reading a book.
Oliver tried to pass saliva, his throat was dry, he didn't want some crazy comment from Michael Gavey to scare you and run away from there, you had simply come to his side, he hadn't had to carry out his convoluted plan to get you.
Of course, he had made many plans, one more crazy than the last to get to you as well as to get to Felix Catton.
From the first day he saw you, he knew that you two were the king and queen, the rest were simply his subjects, his jesters, his servants, and a few commoners trying to get even a little attention from the kings.
He didn't consider himself any different, he longed for that attention, he needed that attention from you and Felix, the winning couple.
"No... I just wanted to sit here... I don't want to make you uncomfortable..." you mumbled.
"No, of course not! You can sit here if you want!" shouted Oliver standing up to try to stop you from leaving.
You just smiled, he was wearing his glasses, and you could see his beautiful blue eyes sparkle at the sight of you, you liked that feeling, he seemed so genuine to you, unlike the rest.
You spent so much time with Oliver, you two talked a lot, he told you many things about his life, which was extremely hard, and you also talked about books and poetry, Oliver was very intelligent. You loved watching movies with him.
You liked that he was so real, there wasn't much of that around you.
Farleigh was the first to comment about your new friends.
"They're both fucking weird, especially the short one, his name is Oliver something, and he's my partner for the thesis, he looks at you like he wants to eat you or fuck you... which is fine, because everyone wants to do it Right?" he grabbed your shoulder and patted you.
"Don't be silly, Farleigh, Ollie's just my friend."
"Ollie, did you hear her yet, Felix? Ollie's taking your best friend away from you, man!" scoffed Farleigh elbowing Felix.
Felix smiled, but you could identify something in him, some discomfort.
You just smiled, no guy would go out with you on a second date and frankly, you were sick of the dating world, maybe there was something wrong with you, and then there was Felix.
Your best friend for as long as you can remember. That night Felix came back to his dorm drunk and you helped him to his bed, he was quite tall, so Farleigh helped you carry him, then said goodbye when he saw you would stay to take care of him.
"Have a lot of fun, you guys..." he teased.
"I just want to make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit." You told him with your arms crossed before closing the door.
He said your name in a whisper.
"You don't have to hide it from me, I'm Felix's cousin, he already told me everything." He winked at you and then left.
You closed the door and when you returned, Felix had already thrown up the floor.
"I'm sorry..." he mumbled taking off the polo shirt he was wearing throwing it on the floor to hide the puddle of vomit.
You took a tissue from the bedside table and wiped his chin, he had a bit of vomit still on him.
"Never mind." You smiled at him trying to get him to lie down. "Now rest."
He took your hand tightly and guided it to his chest.
"You said you weren't going out with boys anymore."
You sighed, you knew you didn't even owe him explanations, but you answered anyway.
"I'm not dating guys, I'm only dating Farleigh and you."
"Really? What about 'Ollie'?"
"Oliver's just my friend, I think you'd really like him if you'd take the trouble to meet him."
"No thanks, I don't want to meet anyone you call him by a diminutive, Ollie like a teddy bear, your teddy bear, do you like him?" he growled.
He was angry and drunk a bad combination.
You rolled your eyes.
"Fuck, you like him!" he got out of bed and you tried to get him to lay back down, he gave in grumbling.
"So what if I like him? You date a lot of girls."
"I told you I could stop...I can stop now...we can be boyfriend and girlfriend officially if that's what you want..."
You laughed as you pulled a mint out of your pocket and popped it into Felix's mouth. He savored it on his tongue.
"And make your mother very happy? That's not your style..."
"I don't care, eventually we'd know what would happen, wouldn't we?" he took your arm and made you lie on his chest.
You easily found a hollow in his bed and hugged him like a fluffy pillow. He smelled of his expensive cologne, cheap beer and sweat. You recognized it perfectly, his scent.
"I don't want it to happen until we finish college, we had talked about it, we'll have our whole lives to be the way our parents want us to be..."
"I don't want you to date other guys... I couldn't stand it... "he murmured lowering his hand between your legs.
"I only date you...I don't date anyone else...only you..." you whispered feeling his fingers on top of the silk of your panties.
You sensed his minty breath and without warning he reached over you and roughly pushed your panties aside.
"I don't want you to see him again..." he caressed your skin, your mons pubis, little drops of pleasure slid down, he found your little bud and brushed it like a button, you shuddered.
"But he's my friend... if you knew him, you'd like him..." you murmured and Felix slipped his long finger inside you.
You let out a squeal burying your nails in his shoulder.
"You're mine... say you're mine..." his breath against your lips.
His hazel eyes were red, you could feel his lips on yours, his body on top of you taking most of your breath away.
"Felix... no..."
His thumb brushed your little bud, his index finger went in and out of you, he attached a second finger and hooked it inside you so deep, you curled your toes, buried your nails in his back and he grunted.
You couldn't think straight, he always triggered that in you.
Soon you would cum in his hand and he knew it so he stopped, stopped rubbing your clit and fucked you with his fingers, denying you pleasure.
He kissed you on the forehead and lay down next to you, you wanted to cry, you were stiff, your intimacy ached for release.
You slid your hand desperate to touch yourself and he stopped you by grabbing your wrist.
"You can't do that, say you're mine and I'll do it for you."
"You know I'm yours, I've always been yours Felix Catton." You sobbed.
"Say you'll never see him again...I want you to tell him right now, text him and tell him you'll never see him again." He growled grabbing your cell phone from your bag, you tried to fight him off but he found your cell phone and located Oliver's contact.
You had saved it as "Ollie🐻" Felix snapped.
"Fuck! Do you really think that's your teddy bear Ollie? I burned that fucking teddy bear when we were kids! Do you know why? Because I refuse to share you with anyone else!" growled Felix typing the message to Oliver.
You tried to stop him, but you couldn't, he sent the message.
"You're crazy!" you took your phone from him, but it was too late, Felix had sent the message.
It was short and to the point. "I don't want to see you anymore, please don't look for me."
Oliver got the message, he didn't feel any emotion about it because he knew you hadn't sent it, he had been watching you and Felix fucking for half an hour, he had followed you since the party, you had cancelled a movie marathon with him, you didn't even lie about it, you just told him you were going out with Felix and Farleigh.
He had the feeling that you didn't invite him to spend time with them because you were embarrassed but he could see it was because of Felix.
He never thought Felix Catton was so jealous and possessive, he didn't appear that way at all.
He watched as you tried to call him, but Felix snatched the phone from you and threw it against the wall, you moaned, but he threw you back against the bed and finished finger fucking you.
You moaned so loudly that Oliver had to stroke his hard crotch over the fabric of his jeans.
He would have to resort to the plan he had made to get into Felix Catton's world because it wasn't enough to have you, he needed the king and queen.
Oliver entered your world and Felix's, he slithered like a snake and was soon entangled in both of yours, Farleigh was much more reluctant to accept him.
But you and Felix would invite Oliver everywhere, he even overheard once how he said something to you about him, when you two were alone with Farleigh and he was nearby lurking.
"I understand why you like him, Ollie is so genuine..." said Felix taking your hand, Felix had stopped dating girls and everyone knew you were his girlfriend.
It was something everyone knew, eventually you would be Mrs. Catton as you should be.
"Ollie? Really Felix? You too?" growled Farleigh. "That little freak sucks both of you, your dick and pussy, is he that good with his tongue?"
And neither of you denied it, Oliver smiled as he watched you blush, he hadn't eaten your pussy yet, but he wanted to so badly.
"Don't be silly Farleigh!" growled Felix, he didn't seem happy with that insinuation.
"Oh but if he isn't your little bear, is he? He's your little pet, sure you can ask him to jump and he'll jump." Farleigh teased. "You two can ask him for a threesome and I swear he'll agree, you just have to see how he wants to eat you both."
"You're disgusting, Farleigh!" you huffed and walked away letting go of Felix.
Felix looked at Farleigh disapprovingly and then walked off after you. Farleigh shrugged his shoulders.
You had power over Felix and Felix had power over you. Oliver needed power over both of you, but he had noticed that Felix even though he was so spoiled and possessive around you, he would do anything to keep you happy so his plan was in motion.
You played varsity tennis and invited him to a tournament, when you won, everyone went to celebrate, Farleigh hadn't gone because he hated tennis, so Felix suggested going to his dorm.
"Let's have a drink to celebrate."
Felix hadn't invited anyone else and when the three of you arrived at the dorm, Oliver carried out his plan, he poured some of a libido-enhancing drug into your drink and Felix's.
The three of you sat on the wooden floor of the bedroom and began to drink and chat.
You were sweaty from the tennis game and you were wearing a little sport skirt, Felix put a hand on your thigh and started to knead it between his fingers and then started to kiss you, almost devouring you in front of Oliver, he just smiled and you looked at him as you kissed Felix, you pushed your boyfriend away and Felix growled, he really wanted to fuck you, he needed to fuck you.
"Ollie... sorry..." you mumbled wiping your lips with the back of your hand.
"Never mind, you may continue," Oliver replied with a smile.
"No, it's not okay, I'm sorry Ollie, I don't know what came over me, I was very rude to you, mate." Apologized Felix was visibly affected, he was also sweating a lot, his brown hair and wet over his face. "Maybe you should go..."
Oliver lowered his blue gaze to the ground and then looked at you. Your heart was beating rapidly inside your chest. You wanted to taste your friend's lips, you had had that idea in your head ever since you met him.
"Or should I stay?... I really don't mind staying." Oliver insisted.
"Yes, stay." You said crawling around in your little sporty skirt, giving Felix a glimpse of your beautiful round ass.
He couldn't stand it, his crotch ached, and he needed to release his fucking hard-on.
You looked at Oliver and felt his yeasty breath on your lips, you pressed your nose to his and he was the one who grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you. You felt his wet tongue inside your mouth.
Felix was about to freak out, at any other time it would have made him furious, but right now seeing Oliver kiss you like that was fucking hot. He crawled over to the two of you and kissed you. Oliver pulled away from you and kissed Felix.
You saw your boyfriend and your friend kissing, almost eating each other, there was a lot of salivae, it was a desperate kiss.
You lifted your skirt, spread your legs, and took off your panties, they were soaked with your excitement and sweat, you had never felt like this in your life, you had no shame or modesty you simply wanted the pleasure so you started to touch yourself, that's when Oliver stopped kissing Felix and looked at you with a smile.
As if you were a naughty little girl.
"Oh no, you can't do that honey," Oliver mumbled shaking his index finger. "Isn't that right Felix?"
The boy was so disoriented, it was becoming more and more obvious that that reaction was unnatural, he looked like an animal so desperate to fuck, like a primal, carnal instinct.
Felix crawled over to you and grabbed your wrists, putting your hands on the sides of your head, you tried to free yourself, kicking desperately.
Oliver was the one who grabbed your ankles firmly preventing you from kicking.
"Ssh, relax, relax, I'll give you what you want." Oliver cooed to you with a huge smile, which made you shiver.
He pulled your legs apart roughly and stuck his head between your legs, you felt his hot breath on your sensitive skin.
You squirmed as he sucked on your clit and his tongue darted from bottom to top tasting all of you, you tasted salty from the sweat, he put your legs over his shoulders and the wet sounds of his spit made both you and Felix even more aroused, Felix took your wrists with one hand and unbuckled his belt.
He released his hard member, the tip was dripping precum, he placed his hardness on your cheek and slid it between your tender lips, you sucked the tip of his long thick cock as you had done so many times before.
Felix pushed your hair away from your face and began to move his hips back and forth, fucking your mouth, he pushed his cock in, and you began to choke and he pulled his cock out to let you breathe.
The corners of your lips were leaking saliva and Oliver was still very concentrated on eating your pussy making you come in his mouth, you let out a stream of excitement that stained his chin, he managed to take some and laughed.
You were still shaking a little, trying to recover from the shock of your orgasm.
Felix reached over and gave Oliver's chin a lick to taste you, Oliver grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him, then he slid his hand down Oliver's torso to his perfect abs and reached his hard member, Felix stopped him.
"Ollie... What are you doing?" stammered Felix.
"Easy, our girl likes it, don't you sweetie?" asked Oliver looking at you with a huge grin without stopping pumping Felix's member, you were so stunned, but nodded.
You really liked watching them touching each other the way they were touching each other.
Felix looked at you and hesitated a little, but he let Oliver lean into him and felt Oliver's juicy lips, he was different from you, he was much wilder, more disastrous, taking his member in, deep-throating it without hesitation.
He sucked him masterfully with determination, Felix began to gasp and moan as he watched you, you moved closer to him and kissed him, tasting yourself on him and watching as your friend gave your boyfriend a blowjob.
Oliver's blue eyes looked at you, he seemed to dare you to go to hell with him and take some of his king's sweet seed, you were willing to do it, but Felix grabbed your chin and kissed you to look away.
It was almost as if he was telling you, stay with me and let our pet finish his job, Felix moaned against your lips as he cummed, Oliver swallowed all his blessed cum and then came up to you and spit in your mouth and then kissed you.
It was strange to taste your boyfriend on your friend's lips.
Felix grabbed your arm pulling you away from Oliver to kiss you, you two devoured each other and Oliver watched completely ecstatic releasing his swollen and aching member.
When you and Felix saw him jerking off you both laughed at him.
"What?" laughed Oliver helplessly.
"Those aren't the rules here." You said crawling over to him pushing him down to lie on the floor and straddling him.
Oliver let out a small gasp as he felt your velvety wet walls squeezing his hardness.
He moved his hips upholding you by the hips, having the power even though you were riding him, your moans were loud, he pulled your hair to kiss you, his blue eyes were bright and devilish, he increased the thrusts, and you trembled every time you felt his balls against your wet and sensitive skin.
You cum arching your back, he held you back with his legs so you wouldn't fall and you milked every last drop of his cum from your tight pussy.
When you two finished, you were smiling and so was he, the only one who wasn't smiling was Felix.
"I think... I think we should rest..." suggested Felix with his head spinning.
You looked at Felix, he was so irritated that you nodded, and stood up with your legs shaking and Oliver's semen spilling between your legs.
Oliver stood up a little dizzy too, Felix took a couple of tissues and wiped the white traces off your crotch, threw the tissues in the trash can, and then put on your panties, lent you a sleep shirt that fit you like a dress and lent Oliver something to sleep in too.
The three of you slept cuddled up in Felix's bed, which wasn't very big, but Oliver didn't mind sleeping in the middle with your breath on his neck and your panties lightly wet against his thigh, you hugged him like he was your teddy bear and Felix just let you do it because it made you feel happy, even though he wasn't entirely happy.
Neither of you two knew that you had let a vile vampire into your relationship and that he would drink you empty.
Oliver closed his eyes with a huge smile, he would sleep like a baby, he was in bed with the king and queen, you thought he was a teddy bear, a mere pet.
He was the fucking dark king, and he would take it all from you.
@beebeetheclown
Oliver Quick NSFW Alphabet
TW: profanity, innuendo, afab reader, she/her pronouns
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Saltburn characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Oliver isn't one to really put too much effort into aftercare if it's a casual encounter, but if his feelings run deeper? He'll be all over you, helping wipe you down, running you a bath, getting you a drink and a snack. He has a very Daddy vibe to him and it definitely shows when he wants to care for you.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
His favorite body part of yours is your eyes - he knows it's a bit twisted, but he loves seeing you cry because you look so fucking adorable and vulnerable when you do it. And he''s the only one who's able to comfort you. Also loves your ass tbh. On himself, he loves his eyes as well, because he knows how pretty you find them.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Ollie's favorite place to cum is inside you, but if for some reason that's not an option, he loves cumming all over your face.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Has absolutely jacked off over your bed while you're sleeping, more than once while you're both at Saltburn. He can't even bring himself to feel guilty about it. It's your fault for looking so damn tempting.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Decent amount of experience, man knows what he's doing and knows more than enough to keep you satisfied.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Mating press or any other position where you're underneath him. He likes being the one in control for the most part and having you beneath him, begging for his cock, is one of his most favorite sights.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Mostly serious! If he's very comfortable with you and trusts you, he might get a little goofy, but for the most part, fucking is a fairly serious endeavor for him.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Y'all have seen the movie, I don't think I need to go into a ton of detail hehehe.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Eye contact is key for him. As mentioned before he loves your eyes, loves being as close to you as possible. He just wants to possess you and your love in every way possible.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
This man masturbates so fucking much to pictures of you by the pool, photos he's managed to get of you while you're sleeping. He's like a fucking deviant. He sees you, gets hard, and has to excuse himself.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Daddy kink, blood kink, overstimulation are his big three. He also doesn't mind a bit of knifeplay or chaseplay.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
In your bedroom or somewhere there's a risk of being caught. He quite enjoys the exhibitionist aspect of it as well as the inherent fear of being found.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
When you meet his eyes, when you cry, when you wear bottoms that show off your ass, pretty much just when you exist.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Don't think he'd be into fluids etc other than blood/spit/cum. But other than that, Ollie will try anything once.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Prefers giving at any time of day, noon, or night. Gets fucking drunk off the taste of your pussy to the point that he'll just keep eating you out until you're sobbing and shaking beneath him. And even then, he'll keep going, telling you that you can give him another one.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
He likes it rough but slow. Likes taking his time with you, bringing you to the edge then depriving you of what you want so desperately, teasing you over and over. He likes to make it last.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
In spite of his name, quickies aren't at the top of his to do list. Would much prefer a longer go.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Open to pretty much anything and absolutely loves engaging in risk taking behavior. Will do anything once.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Ollie can last a decent while and he also has a pretty quick recovery time. With minimal and short breaks, this man can keep you satisfied all fucking night.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He owns a wide variety of toys and uses them both on you and himself. Loves having you use a plug, watching you squirm in your seat at the thought of him fucking your pretty little ass later.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Absolutely loves teasing. He's so mean about it too, taunting you, edging you, then overstimming the fuck out of you.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Very vocal about how good your pussy feels around him. Lots of grunting, rasping, and sometimes - on rare occasion, whimpering when you squeeze around him.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Seems completely dom to you at first, but he's totally a switch. Loves it when you mix it up and take control.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Y'all have seen this man is packing a magnum dong, I can't add any more than that.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Extremely high, but he likes testing himself, holding himself back until he can't take it anymore and just has to have you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Takes a while to fall asleep, longer than you do, just watches you, stroking your hair and enjoying the intimate little moment.
Send over some ideas to my inbox, I’ll do basically anything lmao I’m in the mood for some drabbles or even headcannons. <3
Britpop or saltburn mood ykyk
I cannot stop imagining how rough Felix Catton would be in bed.. like he’s rich, hot and gets all the girls he wants. You’re telling me he wouldn’t get too into it?
Felix lifts you up, grabbing you by your hips whilst thrusting into you carelessly. Admiring your flushed face, drool running slightly out of your mindlessly blabbering mouth. “Oh- fuck- babe.. so fucking good..” He throws his head back wildly, his soft brunette locks falling down his glistening forehead.
“So fucking good for me, aren’t you? So fucking- perfect” He looks down into your face, your head resting against his pillows. Your eyes roll backwards, unable to form words anymore. He mindlessly fucks you like this on the regular yet you’ve never gotten used to the feeling of your cunt being abused hours on end.
He slows down his movements and drops you down on to the bed, falling forwards and caging you with his arms. Breathing heavily before flipping you over. He kisses the back of your neck sloppily, wet trails a leading down your back. The stubble of his unshaven face scratching you, only adding to the overwhelming overstimulation you feel.
You assume your usual position. Raising yourself onto your knees, supported by your arms. Looking backwards into his eyes and he kneels behind you, grinning at your desperation. “Good girl” he rubs your ass, patting you slightly. In the way you would on someone’s back to congratulate them. He lays one more kiss on the back of your neck before straightening up.
He grabs your hips and raises himself higher, to get a better view of your pink, abused pussy from behind. He pushes himself inside, throwing forwards a few thrusts to get back into rhythm. He leans forward and with one hand slams your head down, back into his pillow. With the other he grips your hip and moves you up and down his cock.
He groans, looking back up at the ceiling and rolling his eyes. “God-“ he looks down at you and slaps your ass playfully. Laughing at your fragile condition. “You’d let me do absolutely anything to you” he mutters, narrowing his eyes with complete jubilation.
um i NEED a baby fever felix fic please?? like the whole breeding thing has MY soul
Oh, anon, you get it. You totally get the idea.
𝕱𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖝 𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖇𝖆𝖇𝖞 𝖋𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗
Warnings: nsfw, breeding
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Firstly, I just know Felix wants kids. He’s always imagined one, two at most. He was brought up on the idea that he needed to keep the family name alive, to have a son, an heir. I can imagine Elspeth keeping up this mantra throughout Felix’s life. Telling him it’s what he’s made for, it’s his duty as their son.
He would want to be the first. He would want to have a baby before Venetia (although i doubt she’d ever settle down).
But he would want to do it first. He would make the family proud.
He kept this idea up his whole life, he needed to settle down, marry and have a baby as soon as he could.
He looked all over for the right person, he knew it was you. As soon as he held your hand on the first date, he knew you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
Felix would bring it up with you frequently, little jokes here and there. Late night chats “what would you name our baby?” Type thing. But deep down you could tell it was what he truly desired.
He would confront you just before your last weeks at Oxford, you were about to enter the world.
We would lay down on the foot of your bed, looking up at you lovingly as you read over your notes. A feeling of ease in the air.
“Darling?” He looks up at you, that mischievous look in his eyes you’ve come to associate with lust. “Felix, baby, not right now”. He strokes your leg lovingly, admiring the tan you’d gained from the early summer sun. “No, sweetheart, not that” he laughs.
He looks up at you, grinning, “you know.. you now how we want to be married” he rolls over, gazing at the ceiling as he takes a drag of his long dead cigarette. He waits a beat, seeing if you’d reply. “I’ve been thinking. About our future.”
And that’s where it all began.
It took a long time to convince you, I mean, you were young. You were both very young. Yet you couldn’t see a future without Felix, he was your whole world. You couldn’t imagine marrying anyone else.
From then on, every time he’d fuck you, he’d have intent. He needed to have you, fully have you. He can’t wait to see you stuffed with his cock, it’s all he thinks of throughout the day.
He would hold off having sex sometimes, just to build up the tension. Because he knows that when he wants to cum, he only wants to do it inside of you. Deep within your pussy.
He fucks you hard. Like it’s his last wish on earth to knock up his princess. As he thrusts into you wildly, he imagined how godly you would look with a round, swollen belly. How absolutely delicious you would be, helpless, unable to cope properly without him.
With a hard grip on your hips, Felix fucks himself harshly into you, desperate to breed you fully. To fuck you stupid.
You can feel him falter slightly, his thrusts become erratic. He’s close. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer to you.
The thought drives him insane, over the line as he cums with hot ropes into your pussy. He fold over, caging you with his arms. His chest heaving. His body glistening, sweat beading down his chest.
“Fuck. Oh god- babe. You’re mine. Always mine, you always will be”
He throws forwards a few experimental thrusts and lets out a deep moan. “So fucking good for me”
You look so gorgeous, laying beneath him, completely still. Your pretty body twitching with pleasure.
And he refuses to pull out for so long. Making sure he knocks you up. Plugging up your sweet hole with his seed.
And then he realises, he will have to marry you soon too.
this was the most deliciously vile piece of work i've read and for that reason, I hold it close to my heart!
explicit sexual content; MDNI; fem!reader; includes cum eating
your relationship with oliver and felix was ... complicated, to put it simply.
you'd spend time in the pubs with them. treating oliver more hospitable than everyone else around the table combined. sending what he interpreted as bedroom eyes even while you were draped across felix's lap.
he'd thought it was a situation like before, another girl throwing themselves at him in a last ditch effort to get felix's attention. but you never asked oliver about felix. you never even brought up your mutual friend as you bounced yourself on oliver's dick.
still, he knew you weren't exclusive.
he saw hickies on your clavicle that he didn't leave, he smelt felix's aftershave on your skin just a little after breakfast, and sometimes, it would take you a little while longer to cum, as if you'd already been fucked earlier in the night.
but this never deterred oliver. he liked your attention. and he liked how being with you brought him closer to felix in ways he might not ever get to actually experience.
that's why he learns to time it perfectly, sneaking into your room right when felix has left. draping himself over your body and shamelessly sniffing your skin for remnants of felix's cologne. kissing you with attempts to taste felix; the unique combination of minty gum and tobacco. sometimes, if he gets really lucky, when he finds himself between your thighs there's still cum gathered on your cunt. left there for him to clean up.
but as oliver sees it, there is no luck without a bit of intervention.