#because thats me with saltburn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

manicpixiefelix · 3 months

Text

baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

1/2: i'm gonna talk you through it [SMUT]

Summary: You're the daughter of one of Henrys, and known to be a snobby, entitled Princess of a woman; neither Venetia nor Felix seems to like you. Farleigh, however, claims that you and he have an ongoing arrangement. Felix says that arrangement is that you and Farleigh bitch together, then fuck like wild animals every time you hang out. Turns out you're even bitchier in person, and after a cruel joke played on Oliver by you and Farleigh at the Henrys dinner, he decides to take a bit of power back. Not that it goes as intended... nor that it goes completely wrong.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (F receiving), dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, demeaning talk, bondage & restraints, explicit discussions around safewords (it does happen a little bit into the action but before anything major), pet name used for the reader "princess"

A/N: 4730 words. okay turns out i can write pwp. i cut out like 1.5k of background and you get the gist of it in the summary. there will be a part 2 thats heavy on the smut, but this trio takes a while to set anything up because they can't stop arguing. hints of farleigh/oliver. this was a lot of fun but again i can't stress how long its been since ive written full, proper smut, so id really appreciate feedback. <3 unedited, i love you.

{ masterpost : 1/2 }

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

----

Fucking Farleigh Start. Oliver feels the fury as it burns and bubbles inside of him, stalking quietly through the halls of Saltburn. There, at the end of the hall, Farleigh's bedroom door, quiet and unassuming, and right next to it, Oliver's target; your door. Farleigh isn't the only one in the house who can wrap people around his little finger; he isn't the only one in the house who can get the Princess to kneel.

Trying the handle, he finds it unlocked, and eases the old, wooden door open.

"Farleigh was right," upon hearing your voice, bright, amused, and very much awake in the dark, Oliver jumps, "you're an A-plus lurker, I didn't even hear you come in."

"Was a nasty thing you did to me tonight," Oliver tries to regain some of his composure, some of the ire he'd built up on the way here.

"So you've snuck into my room, I assume you assumed I was asleep, to- what, wake me up and berate me?" There's something smug and biting in your voice, something that fuels the fury coiling deep in his gut, "that doesn't sound like enough for someone like you, tricksie, little, pauper boy." When you start to move from where you've been sitting up in bed, crawling to the end to sit on your knees as the moonlight streaks through your window and finally paints you in sharp relief, he sees you're already nude.

But even your stunning body in the moonlight cannot compare to the look on your face, the sharp, hungry, mean amusement he's never seen a person wear so well.

"Go on then, shout," your eyes shine dangerously in the moonlight; "don't you want Farleigh to hear?" They might have been right. You might be the devil. Your smile gets wider, and Oliver can only watch, rather transfixed, as you start rolling your hips with purpose, "or do you want him to hear something else?" He hears, quietly at first, a soft tap, getting louder as you keep insistently thrusting against the air, against the mattress, the sound of the bedframe hitting the wall behind it, the wall that you shared with Farleigh on the other side.

Then, all at once, you stopped. A loud, mean laugh is pulled from you as you pitch yourself back on the bed, kicking your legs out in front of you to hang off the edge, completely relaxed, completely exposed. You give a loud, amused sigh, looking up at the canopy of the four poster bed.

"God, you're such a little bitch, Oliver, Farleigh was so right," you snorted, "I was the one who actually saw you eating Venetia like your life depended on it, on the lawn of all places," you shook your head, "I don't know what you told Felix to get out of that one but I know what I saw," clicking your tongue, you raised your leg, pointing a foot at him, not even bothering to look at him, "now you won't even touch me in my own bedroom when I'm practically begging for it. I'm choosing to be offended about that; you've offended me, Oliver."

Slowly, your leg lowers, and you kick your heels idly against the end of the bed in the silence.

"Where do you get all your attitude from?" Oliver finally speaks, tone turning scornful as he approached you.

"The money," you fire back with ease, "which is why you always seem to have none." Then, in the furious silence that followed, you grinned sharply at the roof, still not bothering to look at him, "try harder."

When he touches your knee, his fingers gentle against your skin, you kick him hard in the thigh with your other foot -

"The fuck? Did you just kick me?"

"Yeah, and?" He can almost hear you rolling your eyes, "what did you think it was, the wind? Ghost of Grandma Catton?"

"Do you fuckin' want me or not?" He's still standing within kicking range, he learns too late. All the while you've never even looked at him, always looking at the ceiling, hands comfortably, casually behind your head. There's a smug grin on your lips now, something teasing and once more mean.

"Do you want me?" You respond, legs gliding open, an open invitation to your slick, moon-drenched cunt, "I thought you wanted to use me to get back at Farleigh," you said mockingly, finally looking up and meeting his deep, furious gaze. Propped up on your elbows, you give a grin that's all teeth, "wanted to show us who has the real power, that you can get us back for the stunt we pulled after dinner," you sat up further, intense, hungry amusement in your eyes that drew Oliver in to you, leaning in, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as you were almost nose to nose. Your voice lowers, gaze on his lips as your voice turns to almost a moan, "wanted to show Farleigh that you could take anything he thought was his; even me," and you start fake moaning, softly at first, but getting exponentially louder as you leaned back again, against the bed, arching and writhing from nothing, putting on a show that ended with you shouting - "Oliver's a fucking bitch!" At the top of your lungs, and cackling with glee.

Rage exploded within Oliver, and for a moment, overcome with a strange sense of betrayal at your demonstration, he smacks at your inner thigh with all the might he can muster. He can tell it stings, your laughter stops for just a moment, leg flinching up for just a second, but then you're laughing harder if possible.

"Your first mistake - of many - was letting her talk at all," Farleigh's voice from the door is frankly annoyed. You, however, gasp with delight, sitting directly up and looking at Farleigh with absolute glee.

"That's not his fault, I wasn't going to tell him," you pointed out, before looking down at your thighs, and Oliver's hands still on them, and the part of you that must have still stung from the slap, "why is your grip so soft?" You looked up at him with a derisive expression, and immediately Oliver's grip on you goes tight, nails digging into your skin; you're fucking laughing at him again, still, "awe, you're getting there -"

"Could you stop that already?" Oliver leans in, scowling at you. Eyebrows raising in mock surprise, you grinned with devilish intent.

"Stop what?"

"All that fuckin' talking you're doing."

"I don't know, can I -?" But then out of seemingly nowhere, Farleigh sits himself down at the end of the bed next to you, flush against your side. He's still in his crisp, white shirt, and black slacks, looking so put together next to your brash nudity. When his hand comes up to your jaw, barely two fingers beneath your chin to guide you, to have you looking him in the eyes, you have to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. Both he and Oliver can see how badly you want to laugh, to make any kind of sound, but you hold yourself back.

"Okay, your fucking highness," Farleigh's voice is low and dangerous, full of warning, and Oliver sees you take a sharp breath in, gaze fixed on Farleigh's, "you don't get shit from either of us if you can't keep your dirty mouth closed." Though you nod adamantly, you puff out your cheeks, amusement in your eyes as you're clearly desperate to say something; "what?" Farleigh frowns.

"I have really bad news for you about what I have to do to suck dick," you point out, trying to keep your composure. It's not working, giggles are escaping you at a rapid rate.

"You are testing nerves I didn't even know I had," Oliver admits, desperately trying to sink his nails into you as hard as he could. If he could draw blood, perhaps that would be enough penance for having to endure your infuriating company.

However, it's Farleigh who speaks, lip curling with frustration as he smacks Oliver's hand away from the thigh closest to him. With a solid grip on that thigh, he pulls you leg close to him, forcing your legs wider, exposing you further.

"Then do something about it," he practically orders, and something about the tone sparks a kind of indignation in his chest, "you need me to talk you through it?" He snaps. This, however, quickly turns smug and mean as Farleigh leans in, nose to nose with Oliver and his building frustration with them both; "you know how to eat pussy, right?"

"You should both be very careful what you wish for," Oliver's eyes flash with a dangerous confidence as he sank down on his knees between your legs. You, thrilled and delighted by how the situation was no unfolding, lay yourself back on the bed with contented laughter, hands coming to rest confidently behind your head once more.

Farleigh watches Oliver with intense scrutiny, and for reasons he's not quite sure of, Oliver meets his gaze, refuses to break eye contact. His hand moves first, no longer holding your left thigh, he digs his elbow into your soft inner thigh, bracing his arm against you, forcing your leg further open and keeping it that way, letting him comfortably rest his hand with his thumb on your clit.

"Smart boy," you hum appreciatively, shifting your hips back and forth a little as his thumb is rubbing circles against your clit, "knows where the start button is." He takes his thumb off of you, much to your confusion. His gaze is still locked with Farleigh's. "Fucking hell, are you tired already -?" You sat up on your elbows, scowling at him, but Oliver looks sharply to you.

"Weren't you listening to Farleigh, princess?" Oliver asks, and there's something so deliciously satisfying about the look of flustered surprise on your face in this moment. Beside you, Farleigh huffs a laugh to himself and stands, pulling off his tie. Oliver's full attention, however, is still trained on your. Slowly, as he speaks, he again begins to rub circles against your clit, teasing, never enough proper pressure to be satisfying.

"I -" you started, but he immediately stopped again; out of the corner of his eyes, Oliver sees Farleigh's approving nod. Something about this all has his blood rushing in his fucking ears. You press your lips together, giving him a now expectant look, as if here, I've done what you've asked.

You're so wet, so wanting, ready and waiting, right thigh inching closer, leg curling around him, heel pressing insistently into his back. God you look so fucking good, he wants nothing more than to eat you like a man starving, tasting every inch of you -

"Give me your belt," Farleigh interrupts, and Oliver pauses, mouth literally an inch from your cunt, looking up at Farleigh like he can't quite believe him right now.

"Farleigh!" You exclaim with utter frustration, right leg lashing out to kick him, but he grabs your ankle and holds it tightly. With his free hand he makes an expectant, grabby hand at Oliver.

"Belt, now please." He practically orders.

"Use your own belt, Farleigh," Oliver nods to the belt Farleigh had just tossed to the side of the room, and Farleigh gives him a thin, unamused smile.

"Mine's nicer, and I don't want your cum on it," he explained with a mean, humourless smile. Oliver sat back for a long, furious moment, undoing his belt. The minute his hands were off of you, you tried to whine, but Farleigh, now just in his boxers, sat further up the bed beside you.

"This is overkill, I'll be good," you pouted, twisting to lay your head on his thigh, looking up at him with as pleading eyes as you could manage.

"You're not even being good right now," he pointed out; "both your thighs are over Oliver's fucking shoulders, and you haven't gone thirty seconds without saying something," but clearly you're pleased and flustered at being called out. Farleigh says your name more insistently, and you try and play innocent before he practically orders, "get your fucking legs off of him!" Like he can't quite believe you're still trying these tricks, even though you both seem comfortable in this dynamic.

"Oliver~" Farleigh then practically sings like a warning, gaze turning much colder as it falls back on Oliver himself, "where are we with that belt?"

"What's it for anyways?" Oliver finally pulls his belt free, awkwardly half throwing it to Farleigh, who does actually thank him, before his attention is back on you, bare and warm and wet and - "princess," he says suddenly before Farleigh can even answer his initial question, looking up, and you make a noise of acknowledgement, "you want me to touch you like I mean it, then keep your legs spread like you actually fucking want it," voice going low and sharp, immediately you widen your legs as best you can.

"Oh, he's good," Farleigh says, surprisingly appreciatively, watching as Oliver makes a meal of you.

Finally, finally, Oliver's mouth is on you, tongue gliding playfully along your slit, his nose continually bumping his thumb as it continues to work your clit, firmer this time. You hips wriggle and roll with him, desperate for more, growing frustrated with his teasing lightness.

"The belt can be for several things," Farleigh began, matter-of-factly as he began to loop the belt through itself, focusing on his task at hand, "if she insists on closing her legs, I'm not above using both belts to make sure she keeps them open - this bedframe's especially good for that -" a hot spike of desire passes through Oliver all at once, picturing you bound and open and begging -

"Oh, don't joke about that Farleigh, come on, you know I love that -" you actually whimpered, but Oliver, still keeping in mind the earlier warning, once more stops entirely. You gasp, as if betrayed, before remembering for yourself, actually whining, "you guys fucking suck," you whimper petulantly. For a moment, Oliver wonders if he really aught to be here, if this strange, psychosexual encounter was really worth it.

"You're fucking loving this," Farleigh countered without a moment of hesitation, saying it with such confidence that it almost surprised Oliver, "you just hate that you can't shut the fuck up for any amount of time, and that Oliver isn't actually as much of a little bitch as you thought," clearing his throat, Farleigh cast an evaluative look, before trying to shrug it off nonchalantly, "as either of us thought, I guess."

A moment of quiet stillness passes, and Oliver looks to you, face scrunched up with embarrassment, as all of Farleigh's words apparently rang true.

"Are you hourly, Oliver?" Farleigh then scowls, much to Oliver's confusion. Farleigh looks at him like he's a downright idiot, "the princess is actually being quiet, which means..." he trailed off pointedly. Oliver sat back on his heels, frowning at Farleigh for a long moment, his hands coming to rest on your knees. You, yet again growing incredibly unsatisfied, groaned into your hands.

"Not if you're gonna talk to me like that," Oliver takes a deep breath, sitting tall, gaze unflinching as he meets Farleigh's sneering gaze.

"Then fuck off, Little Orphan Ollie, we don't need you," he spits, "you should really feel lucky that you even got this far -"

"You're all talk, Farleigh," Oliver, with a newfound confidence, and his hands on you, rubbing small, gentle circles against your inner thighs with his thumbs. Farleigh's eyes narrow, but Oliver's smile turns knowing, "I know you can throw her around, and tie her up, and give her orders, clearly," he tips his head ever so slightly to the side, gaze slipping to you, to where you've still got your face covered by your hands, "but we both know no-one can speak for her, but her."

The faint, frustrated whimpering that had been escaping you this entire time goes dead silent. Oliver feels the way you go very still. Farleigh, realising what Oliver meant, also turned to look at you properly.

"'s your bedroom, princess," Oliver leans in, presses a kiss to your inner thigh, murmuring softly against your skin, "what do you think?"

"I think you're edging each other with psychosexual, power-play, bullshit-banter that's doing fucking nothing for me," you snap behind your hands, "and I'm gonna start kicking people again very soon," you warned. Farleigh rolled his eyes.

"Sit up," he sighed.

"No."

"Make a choice," Oliver told you, tone firmer this time.

"Also no." Your voice was sounding particularly petulant, and you even brought your knees together, closing yourself off in front of Oliver. After a long, vaguely irate silence, Farleigh takes a deep breath.

"Is something wrong? Are we at a yellow light? Red light?" He asks, tone far gentler, he leans over, fingers gentle against your hairline by your fingertips.

"Light... colours?" Oliver asks with genuine confusion. Farleigh is far less patient when he turns on Oliver, like he's frustrated to even be explaining this.

"Like a traffic light; instead of a safety word like pineapple, we have green - go, yellow - slow down, red - stop," said like he wanted to include duh, obviously on the end, but refrained, turning back to you.

"And... they're for her?" Intrigued and surprisingly endeared by the concept, Oliver leans forward with a little smile, resting his chin on one of your knees, looking between yourself and Farleigh. He watches you sigh, even with your hands over your face.

"How do you not know how safe words work? What kind of sex have you been having?" Farleigh's judgemental tone hits Oliver square in the chest, but before he can even answer, you finally sit up, expression wide and overwhelmed with frustration.

"Farleigh look at him; he's like if they made repression a person! He's been having the most boring, vanilla sex known to man - if any - and getting off in his spare time to things that would make God cry. Look him in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong -" Farleigh's gaze flicked to Oliver, who suddenly felt himself begin to flush scarlet, and had to sit back again, frowning at his hands. There was something about the shame at being so concisely called out that was... thrilling. Something about how clearly you could see through him, through his persona to the raw want at his very core, it was freeing. You sat up further, with purpose, grabbing Oliver's chin so roughly it shocked him, forcing him to look in your eyes for a long moment.

"You came in here with purpose thinking I was asleep; creepy, hot, deranged; I'm into it," you told him sternly, "I literally could not care less about you otherwise, you're nothing to me the rest of the time. You came here to put me in my place, I don't want you here if you can't do that." Fucking hell, Oliver can feel his heartbeat racing as you shove his face away, your expression almost bordering on disgust.

"So you're..." Farleigh, as if frustrated by this little tirade you saw fit to go on, was unimpressed as he once more checked in.

"Green light, obviously," you threw your hands into the air in exasperation, "it's like you've never met me before -" but before you can slump back against the bed like you so clearly wanted to, Farleigh catches you, shifts behind you to prop you up.

"You're a brat," Oliver says, finally finding the words for the dynamic, and rather charmed by it all. Still, Farleigh has to get a word in edgewise.

"How long 'd it take you to figure that out?" He muttered sarcastically, doing something behind your back while you made a show of struggling and wiggling, refusing to keep your left arm with whatever he was doing.

"So," Oliver clarified, testing out the code, "green light?" You grinned at him, giving a pleased nod. Farleigh, finally having caught your left hand seemingly for good, reiterates the statement distractedly. Then, with a sense of triumph and relief, he pulls the belt, and his makeshift handcuffs, tight.

"Why are you still dressed?" You ask Oliver sharply. You may have had a point, but the game was back on. With your hands secured, Farleigh sat back behind you on the bed, pulling you flush to him, arms secured and pressed between the two of you that was just edging on uncomfortable.

"Why are you still talking?" He mutters into your ear, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, one hand coming to wrap over your mouth, while his other curled around your middle, pulling your legs apart, wasting no time in dipping two long, elegant fingers into you. Your eyes light up, gasping against his hand as the two of you watch with lust in your eyes as Oliver begins to undress.

"The belt," Farleigh's voice has that lazy kind of smugness that Oliver usually hated, but now kind of makes his head fuzzy and kind of like he wants to sink his teeth into him, "is to keep the princess in her place, because someone," he says pointedly, not that you seem to notice; your eyes are closed, and Farleigh's thumb is on your clit while the fingers he has inside of you curl lovingly into your sweet spot, "manages to escape every pair of padded handcuffs either of us have ever bought," he explains, turning his attention back to Oliver, "and she complains about metal handcuffs, and zip ties, has undone every rope knot I've ever tied, and ruined every single tie I've ever tried to tie her up with."

"I bought you new ones," your voice is faint, half a moan muffled behind Farleigh's hand, and Oliver, still unsure of how to respond to any of that, finally turns back to the two of you on the bed. There's something desperate about the way you're arching against Farleigh's firm hold on you, legs having fallen open as your hips rolled in time with his fingers, lewd and needy. But Farleigh's eyes are only on Oliver, watching him with hunger in his eyes, pupils blown wide, gaze roaming over Oliver's physique.

At the sound of your voice, Farleigh's gaze meets Oliver's his smile widening just a touch before he stops entirely. A desperate keening is pulled from you, hips shifting for friction, for anything, as Farleigh rests his hand on your thigh, fingers slick, practically dripping with you.

"No, I'll be good," you whimper, eyes fluttering, half closed, "I'll be -" you were already breathing heavy, "so so good."

"Hear that?" Farleigh murmurs with a vindictive little smile, hand uncovering your mouth, moving to hold your chin, your mouth falling open in a moan as his nails scratch up your thighs. Oliver advances on you both, entranced by the sight of you both, desperate to have a taste, to play along.

"Think she even knows how to be good?" Oliver teases, once more between your thighs. Still, instead of giving you the same kind of proper relief that Farleigh had been offering, he starts out gentle once more.

"Oliver, you're so cruel," you whimper. Farleigh's hand moves from your jaw to wrap around your middle, holding you secure, while the hand that had sat on your thigh moves to your open mouth, Oliver watches, rapt, as he slides both slick digits past your lips, but it shuts you up well enough, lips closing on his fingers as you diligently lap up your own taste from him.

"See, can't trust a word she says," Farleigh purrs. You bite gently on his fingers as you moan, Oliver finally deciding to do more than just tease you. Oliver's fingers are shorter than Farleigh's, but damn if they can't still hit the same high notes. Curling and pressing in a steady rhythm, he alternates dipping his tongue in as much as he can, and circling your clit. Farleigh's hand has moved from your mouth, spit slicked fingers pinching at your nipples, lightly dragging his nails across your skin, while he's started rolling his hips against your back, cock unbearably hard and still confined to his boxers, pressed against you.

You're whimpering and moaning in his ear, straining against your handcuffs, arching, writhing, but Oliver's holding your thighs still and secure and Farleigh is captivated by how enthusiastically he's going down on you, how its shining on his cheeks, his nose - he reaches out, cards his fingers through Oliver's hair. Oliver looks up through his lashes, a fucking gorgeous sight that you're too lost to appreciate. Just for Farleigh.

God he could say something snide, something about sloppy seconds or something about this being the most expensive meal he'll ever have, but he doesn't. He gives a sly, approving smile, and his grip on Oliver's hair tightens.

"Teeth and tongue," he tells Oliver quietly. Oliver doesn't seem to get it at first, but you choke out a whine, arching further into Farleigh, tipping your head against his.

"That's cheating," you gasped, but Farleigh kept running his fingers through Oliver's hair, whose mouth had never left your cunt, nor his eyes Farleigh's face, "you're helping him cheat; you want me to cum this early?"

"You know what's cheating?" Farleigh once more grabbed your chin, angling your head so you could watch Oliver working hard to get you off, "look at him," Farleigh murmurs in your ear, "eyes open, on his," the commanding tone was hard to refuse, and your eyes fluttered open; the fucking sight of him, a mess between your legs, Farleigh's hand in his hair, was almost enough to send you over the edge, "tell him what I mean."

"Gentle- uh, gentle teeth on me- on my-" you desperately tried to string two words together as Oliver began to get more of an idea. Farleigh's hand on his head becoming more insistent, firmer, nose pressed firm against your skin when he finally took the hint, focusing on your clit, sucking and lapping at it, teeth gently teasing as you completely lost the ability to speak. The rhythm of his fingers was consistent and firm throughout it all, pressing just right -

"Keep your fucking eyes on him," Farleigh ordered, almost snarling it into your ear, "I want you to watch Oliver Quick make you cum." But Oliver had eyes only for him, feeling you clench around his fingers, thighs pressing desperately against his shoulder and the hand that had kept them apart, he could feel Farleigh's nails on his scalp and see the heady, smug pride in his eyes.

As you start to come down, breathing hard and heavy and leaning all your weight against Farleigh, you giggle with out of breath contentment.

"Princess's got not manners," Oliver shook his head with an air of disappointment, and Farleigh smirked, brushing some hair from Oliver's forehead before he reached up and tapped your cheek gently.

"Say thank you, Oliver."

"Thank you, Oliver," you grinned, tone surprisingly sincere, as Oliver crawled up onto the bed beside you both. But there's something dark and hungry in his eyes as he watched you both; reaching out, he presses the fingers against Farleigh's lips, your cum coating them like syrup. Farleigh is more than happy to lick them clean, tongue dancing lewdly around Oliver's digits, all kinds of inuendo and promise in his eyes.

Then, Oliver's attention turns on you something dark, hungry, almost deranged in his eyes. He takes your face in hand.

"And you, princess," he says derisively, not even respecting you enough to look you in the eyes in this moment, "this is not your place that I am putting you in," god it almost sounds like a threat, but you're already squirming with want and anticipation, "but we'll get there," he squeezes your cheeks and your mouth opens on command, tongue as pink and wet and desperate as your cunt had been. He spits in your mouth, sudden sneer curling his lip, blue eyes ice cold and demeaning; "and it's thank you, Oliver Quick."

You feel fucking filthy, can taste yourself in his spit.

You want him to do it again.

"Thank you, Oliver Quick."

{ part two here }

#saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #farleigh start imagine #farleigh imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x farleigh start #oliver quick smut #farleigh start smut #farleigh smut #farleigh start x reader x oliver quick #farleigh x reader x oliver #manic writer

700 notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 3 months

Note

I saw your post about taking Felix requests so I had to send one and trust me the choke hold this man now has on me is so strong too!

I see Felix as the kinda guy who is laid back but with his girl at Saltburn because she’s shy he’d be the one who would pick out her dresses for dinner, put his hand on her throat or up her skirt whenever he wants and even just to get her attention, always pulling her on his lap even if there is an open seat next to him, and maybe he’d make her call him daddy. Do with that info what you will if you like it 🤭

oh, baby, you're onto something real. like really real.

mhm, mhm, love me a popular boy and shy girly. he dazzles and she lets him; she holds the light for him, type shit! love it. got me salivating a little - or is that foam at my mouth? hm - for Felix, it's probably both.

you've got my motor running, there's a LOT of thoughts being thunk! so let's get into it!

kinda-sorta Felix Catton headcanons:

okay, first, him picking out her outfits? FUCKING ADORABLE!

he starts out by taking her shopping, it's just them and a store attendant; he's sitting in one of those little chairs, facing the dressing room, waiting for her to show him each option. she's a shy baby, so she's quiet when showing him, but Felix is boisterous and supportive, so he gets all up-in-arms for each dress, each pantsuit, each flowing skirt and tight top. you know, asks her to do 180's, to dance around (to make sure it all fits right), and he'll even get up and twirl her once or twice when he particularly likes an outfit. he has LOTS of opinions, so the attendant brings over whatever he points at since his girly often sticks to "safe" choices and he likes seeing her branch out. the attendant thinks they're just too cute, so the attendant is happy to do whatever Felix asks; happy to help zip her up or tie her into whatever dress he picks. it's a bonding experience each time, and because he's a rich pretty boy, he buys everything. is that a kink? it should be a kink. even that dress she's not convinced looks flattering - he's borderline drooling and slapping cash onto the counter, begging her to put it on the moment they get "home". naturally he carries all the bags.

when at Saltburn, he's the one picking their dinner fits 'cause he gets off by matching together - 'cause he's a soft angel baby, too. she does his hair for him and he'll wear a button up thats the same color as her dress; and boy, oh boy, does he lay the compliments on THICK. like - any opportunity, he's showering her, gushing over her, just RAVING. she's shy and a little quiet, but when Felix fucking Catton is genuinely complimenting her as if he can't help himself, it really helps boost her confidence and settles her nerves. Felix likes to push envelopes, so naturally, he pushes them with his pretty lady, too, and it might make her unsure, but again, the confidence boost calms her and she's really excited to see what the next fit is.

Felix doesn't have a specific love language because they're ALL his love languages. so, yes, that includes physical touch. he adores his shy little lady, and again, likes pushing envelopes - so, even in public, he's laying his hand on her throat. not in a grip, but in a soft gesture to keep her close to him; as if feeling her pulse reassures him. he's possessive as fuck, but in a soft way; so the Catton's aren't phased by his actions, despite the way it makes his little lady a little insecure. she's just not HUGE on PDA, but Felix is, and he doesn't do it if she's adamant - but seeing her a little nervous (eyes darting around to make sure nobody's watching) really gets him going. and no matter where they are, if she's in a dress or skirt, you better believe his hand is on her thigh! you better believe he's pushing her buttons by trying to reach higher! you better believe it makes her all flustered but wildly turned on - and Felix revels in her reactions. her little squeaks of surprise, the way she might choke on her wine when he squeezes unsuspectingly, the way her hand slaps down over his (her skirt's material between their hands) when he gets a little too handsy. he's a menace, but his shy little love adores it.

he makes her braver. he makes her want to try new things. he makes her excited and as if her energy's renewed.

Felix recharges her, burns her out, replenishes her, exhausts her. he does it all - being a Jack of All Trades. and she keeps him humble, in-line, on his toes, and feeling like everyday's an adventure.

matter of fact, they make each other feel as if they're on a new adventure each day. awh, i love them.

moving along!

still on the PDA train, you're totally right, dear sweet Nonnie, and Felix loves her on his lap. he just loves having her close; it makes him feel all the more confident and yet, grounded and down-to-Earth. she toys with his hair at the nape of his neck, his arm's usually always tight around her waist; and because he's gangly, his arm wraps around to rest on her thigh. and guess what? it's up her skirt. they like cuddling, but Felix is way more open about it; he doesn't care what audience they have, he's just touching her. he likes whispering in her ear when she's on his lap, it makes her giggle and whisper back. there's constant compliments, discussions about what mischief to get into that evening, little jokes - mostly about Farleigh, knowing those two adorable fucks.

absolute cuties.

after dinners, when the family's socializing, he's tugging her to his lap despite the space on the couch being open. he won't do it at dinner, though, that's far too formal and his little love is dreadfully against it; but other meals? casual meals? yeah, the cheeky fuck's setting her to his lap - only releasing her when she gives him a kiss. however, some breakfasts spent on the terrace or patio, she's still a little sleepy and won't fight him too hard; resting back into his chest, letting him feed her a few cubes of fruit - much much much to Elspeth's delight.

Mama Catton's the biggest supporter of Felix and his little love. it's freaking adorable. Venetia's supporter #2 'cause she loves her brother being in-love, but Elspeth's just - over the freaking moon.

now, the daddy kink? i can see it. 1000%. he's not super in his lady's face about it, but when they're gettin' frisky, oh YEAH - baby boy's way into it. demanding she call him Daddy when he's balls deep already, he wants it panting from her lips. he wants to hear her call him Daddy like it's a dying prayer. this super extends into a breeding kink - but that's another story. dude just loves the power he feels when his shy little love begs Daddy to fuck her harder. to get rougher. to please her the way only Daddy can. and it's not that he "makes" her call him that, she's very very very much into it, too. look, IYKYK - daddy kinks aren't for everyone but FUCK, is it fun.

this also directly relates to pet names, which Felix is a BIG fan of. he's the type that only calls his shy little love by her name when he's being serious. and maaaan, for the first few weeks of their relationship, she was just too nervous to call him any pet name but when she starts small, you know, the simple "baby", or "love", or my personal favorite, "sweet boy", she sees the way he LIGHTS up and starts using pet names regularly. she'll only call him "Felix" when she's being serious, which is actually super helpful in their relationship because he's so playful, she's so shy, he doesn't always know when he's crossed a line. but the moment she's calling him "Felix" instead of "Fi" or anything else, he's shaping up. it's a subtle way he knows she's uncomfortable and he NEEDS to get serious - else risk upsetting her. which he NEVER wants to do. she's too pretty, too sweet, too soft spoken to be upset. calling him "Felix" is a telltale sign that things aren't okay, and it's just a way for him to know what's going on without actually asking, "what's wrong?" 'cause he's pretty in-tune to his own bullshit, so, he's usually pretty good about knowing what he does that pushes her a little too far.

i... i love them so much.

damn i HAVE to stop doing this to myself. i get all into these fictional men, and then, when i actually date around in real life, FUCK am i disappointed. i'd like a man written by a woman, please! God, when is it my turn!? 😂 i'd do anything at this point, good sir!

ah, but we live, we love, we learn - right?

anyways, enough of my whinging. thank you for sending this in and sending me down a rabbit hole! we all know i'm a masochist, so i love hurting myself in this way. tantalizes my wee heart.

all my love! 🖤

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton imagine #felix catton headcanon #felix catton headcanons #felix catton HC #felix catton x fem! reader #felix catton fluff #felix catton x you #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #saltburn imagine #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn felix #fix it felix

589 notes · View notes

lovehypegirl · 2 months

Text

childe as your lover

✩.•🐋 ☽ .* ✧🎧

such a sweetie

he only wants to see you happy and smile

like we know how rich he is, he buys anything you lay your eyes on-absolutely no questions asked

his bloodthirstiness for battle is a little concerning but we love him anyways

YK THAT GUY FROM TIKTOK SEBASTIAN OR WHATEVER HIS NAME IS? HIS GIRLFRIEND IS FERNANDA

THATS WHO CHILDE REMINDS ME OF

Has an "I love my s/o" shirt

Very Very VERY sassy and will give you a major side-eye if you don't give him his daily kisses

Does your skincare with you and will get a little pissy if you use the last face mask

HE PROBABLY WROTE FANFICTION ABOUT YOU TWO BEFORE YOU STARTED DATING LMAO

HES SUCH A DORK

has good fashion taste and the first person you need to consult about your outfits

He will always be your #1 supported

probably makes you watch Saltburn with him because he saw it on tiktok and was grabbing you arm, pointing at the tv, hands on the head, mouth agape, strangled gasps, hiding his head in the crook of your neck the whole time

you're more of the boyfriend than he is

You think he gonna protect you from a squirrel? NO

"He gon get me! HE'S GONNA GET MEEEE" Childe screamed as he hid behind you pointing at the 'meancing animal'

"Yeah, he gon get you if you dont shut it"

Most of the time he will protect you but he has a personal vendetta against small animals like squirrels. He also thinks groundhogs are dumb

The 'lalala' to your 'okokok' or your 'lalala'

Does the squinting eyes, furrowed brow and raised lip if he sees something questionable

I love this silly little ginger

#hypegirlwhispers #childe x reader #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin impact x reader #childe headcanons #childe x gn reader

182 notes · View notes

pumpkinnsoda · 22 days

Text

Neurodivergence is fucking crazy bro

Can’t believe I’m shivering with rage like a chihuahua because I saw someone have an absolutely shitty take on Saltburn.

Like that’s MY babygirl. Thats MY hyperfixation. I will SHANK YOU. ADHD gives me superpowers and by superpowers I mean hatred and emotions

#saltburn #oliver quick #felix catton #cattonquick #adhd brain #living with adhd #hyperfixation

86 notes · View notes

tildexart · 14 days

Note

Hello again! Please elaborate on why you don’t like Bram Stokers Dracula (1992) I love hearing people go off and I think I’ll agree with your conclusion since I don’t like it either haha

HI thanks for sending this as an ask!! Here's a very long, convoluted response. Warning: it is not proofread.

So, the main reason I don't like Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) is because of accuracy. Now, I am completely fine when a book-to-film adaptation isn't a perfect recreation of the book (frankly thats impossible imo) but MAN does this adaptation do the original book injustice. The romance between Dracula and Mina?? The plot line about Dracula's dead wife? Renfield originally working with Harker?? MINA ATTEMPTING TO SEDUCE VAN HELSING???? Really, most of the injustice is done to Mina as a character. Book!Mina is such a strong, well written character. She is integral to the plot and to the book's structure (we would not have had all of the letters, newspaper clippings, and diary entries without her). The book itself states this with how often the Dude Squad (I think I got that title from an Overly Sarcastic Productions video, im going to keep using it) directly tell Mina that they could not have defeated Dracula without her. She is resilient, smart, and stands up for herself. 1992!Mina is not this. James V. Hart, who wrote the screenplay, took everything that made Mina Mina and created a stereotypical damsel character. It's a shame because I strongly believe that Winona Ryder could play a killer, book-accurate Mina Harker.

Speaking of who plays the characters... the cast is really hit or miss for me personally. I do think Winona Ryder and Anthony Hopkins are good picks (especially based off of the book portrayals) and I remember liking Cary Elwes as Arthur Holmwood. Tom Waits as Renfield is a pretty inspired choice ngl.

But. Keanu. Don't get me wrong, I love Keanu Reeves. I think he is great in Bill and Ted's and John Wick. But that's why it confuses me as to why he was cast in this film. He can't do the accent, he shows no emotion, and it sounds like he is remembering his lines as he says them. In fact, my family and I quote his lines in this film as a joke all the time ("Is the castle far?"). None of his former roles at the time implied that he would be a good Jonathan either.

I can't remember much of Gary Oldman's performance, I just know I didn't like it lmao. He made Dracula too suave when he's really just a Creature.

Note: in looking up the cast I was reminded that Richard E. Grant plays Seward and as a fan of Saltburn (2023) that is just. hilarious to me.

I only went into this movie because I was told I would like it because the production design was pretty. Honestly? It's not. The film is poorly lit and the costumes are questionably accurate. The few shots I can remember are for the wrong reasons- such as that One Scene with Lucy in the cemetery. I won't get into it much more, it makes me extremely uncomfortable, but its another instance of Bram Stoker's Dracula taking away everything that made the female characters interesting.

Honestly? The best thing I can say about this movie is that it included Quincey. He's my favorite and he usually doesn't make it to screen adaptations. I'm happy you're here buddy.

I think what infuriates me is the title. Bram Stoker's Dracula implies that this adaptation takes a lot from the book. It's not just Dracula, it's Bram Stoker's Dracula. It's like saying that this adaptation is the most faithful. But... it's not. Bram Stoker's Dracula takes more of it's inspiration from old Universal films and previous Dracula adaptations than it does from the actual book. Thats okay! I'm all for new interpretations of old stories. But if you're a new interpretation that changes half of the characters and plot, don't market said interpretation with the original authors name.

This is not Bram Stoker's Dracula, it's Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula.

Which, even then, this is weak for Coppola. I'm not a huge fan of his work (I've seen The Godfather and Apocalypse Now) but I can understand and appreciate why he is as influential as he is. I think his films are well written and beautifully shot. He has great casts who elevate the writing and make their characters memorable. This film goes against all of that and that bothers me so much. It feels like a cheap imitation of Coppola's work.

Anyway- that sums up my thoughts on Bram Stoker's Dracula. I reallt enjoyed writing this, as someone who wants to be a film historian but doesn't actually get to do film-deep dives this was pretty refreshing haha. Good reminder that this is a film blog, not a podcast one.

Feel free to ask me more about movies, especially if you like Dracula! I am of the opinion that there is no good adaptation of Dracula... but I have ideas on how to fix that so...

#i believe this film is my lowest rated film on letterboxd #tilda rambles #bram stocker's dracula #francis ford coppola #film ramble #dracula

19 notes · View notes

homosexualmorelikehomiesexual · 4 months

Text

Why Isn't Oliver A Girl? A Saltburn Analysis

shoutout to @aquickstart for this brilliant question that led to me writing this in my notes app at 7 in the morning and simply does not deserve to be relegated to DMs. hope you all enjoy our brainrot!

~~~~

i think it depends on this. which aspect of olivers desire for felix is most offensive to modern normie sensibilities? the homosexual one, or the selfcestuous one? i...say its the former. i think its seen as normal to want, if not allowed to actually achieve, (particularly given british bloodline classism), for a white man to want to be a different, more powerful white man. to want to ascend his social position for power.

but if oliver was a woman, it would be the inverse. her romantic desire would be seen as normal, (if still unsettling, because of its sexually predatory nature. because people are not used to thinking of women as interested in or capable of sexual violence, much less seeing it onscreen.) but her desire to BE him would be the uncomfortable part, bc women are not supoosed to want power in a man way, theyre supposed to want it in a woman way. theyre supposed to work within the system as a damsel to white men. white women, particularly those who are not opporessed in any other way, are the First Lady to white supremacy. they are not supposed to want to fully replace men at the top of the food chain, they are supposed to utilize their position as subordinate to further their entitlement to second in command status; because being subordinant grants them the plausible deniability of victimhood. just as felixs appearance of ultimate generosity absolves him of guilt for his privilege, so does white womens appearance of ultimate victimhood absolve them of theirs.

except....thats actually common. look at terfs. look at White Feminism and how it seeks to merely replace men rather than dismantle the system entirely. so while on some level it would still be upsetting to cis men to see a story that seemingly openly condones misandrist social climb, i think they would dismiss it as simply reverse sexism. and people would misinterpret it as that, as being a poor attempt at feminism that accidentally shows its ass by glorfiying girlboss feminism.

but. thats the (unreliable) narrative girloliver tells us.

because girl olivers desire for felix would not be one of heterosexual romantic interest. it would be one of cannibalistic gender envy. girl oliver could not exist, because she would be a trans man.

and THAT. would make people WAY too uncomfortable. it would put way too much scrutiny on the very few trans men in the public eye. it would not be safe. the reason we are able to take saltburn in good faith, is because the narrative of gay male desire as predatory is no longer the only depiction of it. i think it would break peoples minds seeing transmaculinity as predatory rather than transfemininity, and not in a good way. i dont think cis men would even conciously pick up on it, much less feel threatened by it. i think theyd be far more uncomfortable with the idea of women, cis women, being sexually predatory.

but cis women in the audiences would lose their shit. because they see transmasculinity not as predatory, but as cowardly. as a betrayal of sisterhood, a joining of the enemy and a defecting of that mutual suffering under patriarchy that white cis women cling to because it grants them that immunity when they enact their own bigotry. because womanhood is something you are supoosed to love and hate in equal measure. so to want to denounce it, to be dysphoric and find more joy in being masculine, is offensive because it bursts that bubble, it shows this narrative of universal sisterhood for the cult that it is. wanting to leave means you are excommunicated. just as a trans woman wanting to be accepted into that sisterhood, bursts the bubble because it acknowledges that theres more to womanhood than hating it.

but....heres the thing. this is what would make girliver (heh) saltburn brilliant. it would force people to reconsile with the fact that out of the two. out of transmasculinity, and girlboss feminism. one of them is much more uncomfortable to us, much more of a threat to patriarchy rather than a contribution to it. and its not the one we pretend it is. desoite the supposed accepted narrative that misandrist social climb is the most hated thing...its actually a fundamental part of how white patriatchy functions. the REAL thing people consider transgressive, is the notion that you would want to be a man not for power but for the joy of it. to separate maleness from power. because you are not allowed to feel that. either as a trans or even it seems to me a cis man.

one of my first thoughts when i went to answer this was that... canon oliver and felix as metaphors speak of...white male emptiness. of the way consumerism, both in the capitalistic material gain sense, and in the primal cannibalistic sexual consumptiom and discarding of your conquests - is the only avenue through which men are allowed to signal a personality. they do not get to experience true self love outside of who they provide for or who serves them. self love and appreication of ones own beauty outside of sexual usefulness are considered feminine. so is appreciation of beauty as a whole outside of sexual appeal. it is considered gay (in feminine therefore transgressive therefore infectious and predatory way) to appreciate a nuce fruity drink. or a sunset. or to put effort into ones own appearance, outside of the exclusive purposes of either getting pussy, or living up to the male power fantasy. to love masculinity for masculinities sake. not in a romantic way but in a self love way, is a deeply transgressive act. that NO ONE talks about. but it is everywhere. so for girl oliver to ugly cry while flicking the bean like its an actual dick on top of a grave, only to retroactively claim her obsession with felix was just a good for her girlboss narrative...that would rip the common narrative like a wet paper bag.

it would also totally reframe the sex scenes with venetia and farleigh. with venetia it would be a case of...on the one hand the taboo of predatory lesbianism. but on the other, the girlbossification of..... katy perry style straight women sexual experimentation. particularly with transmascs, bc it gives them the plausible deniability that its not actually gay. so thered be a lot of debate there who is really taking advantage of who there. especially because nonpenetrative particularly lesbian sex isnt seen as real sex therefore its not seen as a form of assault. and with farleigh itd be a case of girlbossifying sexual conquest over men. pegging. tho i doubt girl oliver would pack a strap. maybe shed finger him idfk. but itd definitely be some sort of like, sexual dominance as empowering until you think about the racial dynamic and realize its actually buckbreaking.

so ultimately i think it would be BRILLIANT. but it would also be a fundamentally different story, which people simply are not ready to hear. idk enough about emerald fennell to judge whether or not she would be able to even think of this, let alone portray it faithfully, given she is a white wealthy cis woma, but especially after barbie, i am IFFY about white wealthy cis womens attempts at feminism. particularly when it comes to gender transgression and portrayal of transmasculinity of any kind. fucking sasha in barbie is the only one who dislikes hot pink feminism, shes not even a proper tomboy, and shes effectively forcefemmed

#finnposting #saltburn #oliver quick #tw sa #tw misgendering #tw racism #finns saltburn tag

21 notes · View notes