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[uselesssomebody]

"Final Girl" - Ghostface!Felix Catton x Reader x Ghostface!Oliver Quick

a/n: for @acutely-autistic. mostly porn no plot lol, had a lot of writer's block with this one, sorry it took a while besties 🩷

Summary: Felix promises you a summer to die for when you join him and Oliver at Saltburn.

TW: dubcon, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, murder, blood kink, knife kink, mask kink, chase play, fingering, oral m receiving

Word Count: 1,100 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

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 🩷

You don’t know how long you’ve been running. You don’t know how long you can keep running. Your legs are burning, and so are your lungs as you race through the hedge maze. Part of you always thought there was something off about Oliver. The way he wormed his way into Felix’s life. The way people around the two of you started dropping like flies. First it was Annabel. Then Oliver’s former friend, Michael, who you were partnered with for a tutorial. Then it was India. And now, today? You saw what he did to Farleigh. Saw him remove that stupid Ghostface mask and grin down as Farleigh choked on his own blood.

It was the quiet gasp you let out that alerted him to your presence. Or maybe it’s just what made him look at you and he was aware all along. Maybe he wanted you to see the violence he was capable of. He gave you that smile that once seemed so innocent to everyone, but now you knew better. You took off running, intent on warning Felix. As far as you knew, he was in the backyard, smoking.

Oliver’s footsteps echoed after you on the stone walkway as you ran for dear life, his voice calling out, an almost playful undertone to it, “Come on, love. I won’t bite. Unless you want me to… Let’s just talk about what you think you saw…”

It was obvious to anyone with eyes that you fancied Farleigh, your best friend Felix’s cousin. Felix had always tried to warn you off of him, that Farleigh would never be the right guy for you. But you ignored his words and continued fantasizing about the curly haired boy of your dreams. What was also obvious to anyone with eyes was that Felix fancied you. He was always so protective, so possessive. And yet, you always said he was like a brother to you.

You find him in the hedge maze, running into his waiting arms, breaking down into tears. You know Felix and Oliver have been an item this whole summer, though they thought you didn’t realize, but you know. Felix cups your face in his hands, asking what’s wrong in that sweet, gentle voice of his. Your voice trembles as you speak and you try to tell him what you saw. Your words come out all too fast.

“Oliver… Farleigh… He…”

Felix wraps you in his arms, his body shaking with what you can only assume to be sobs. You run your hand up and down his back, trying to soothe him. Farleigh’s gone. And Oliver is a killer. Then you hear it.

He wasn’t crying at all.

He was laughing.

Felix gives you a wry little smile and immediately, you turn to run, only to see Oliver. The two of them corner you in the maze, your heart hammering against your ribcage as you stare at the boys. Oliver’s face is still covered in Farleigh’s blood, and your jaw drops in horror as Felix kisses him without any hesitation.

Farleigh’s blood coats both of their lips as they turn to smirk at you. You try to duck out from under Felix’s arm, but he grabs you by the waist, holding you against the wall of the maze. Oliver grabs your wrists, pinning them to the wall as well.

It shouldn’t excite you, the way the two of them look at you like they want to devour you. They pull their Ghostface masks on, and you can feel their eyes on you as they drag you out to the field. You cry out as they stare down at you, and you hate that you’re enjoying the attention they’re giving you. Oliver pulls a knife from his pocket, still wet from Farleigh’s blood, using it to cut open the top of your dress. He trails it along your body and you just know he’s smirking under that fucking mask.

Felix’s hands slide up your legs, to the apex between your thighs, chuckling as he feels the wetness pooling there, “I thought you loved Farleigh, Princess. But here you are. Wet like a dirty little slut for the two who killed him.”

Your eyes go wide as Oliver undoes his jeans, freeing his cock. He grabs it, giving it one quick tug, slapping it against your lips, making you whimper. You hear him laugh under the mask, the sound slightly muffled.

“Open wide, love. Let’s see what that mouth can do.”

He’s so fucking big that you’re almost gagging without his whole cock even being in your mouth. Ollie begins to fuck your throat, a hand running through your hair almost affectionately while Felix fucks with you with his fingers. He lets out a low groan as your pussy squeezes around him, rasping through the mask as he adds a finger, hooking them in a curved come hither motion, rubbing right up against that rough patch deep inside of you. Your toes curl and you moan around Ollie’s cock, feeling his hand tighten in your hair.

Your eyes are wide as the two of them stare down at you in those eerie masks, Felix’s head tilted to the side in a way that feels almost condescending. You don’t understand. You shouldn’t like this. They’re murderers. And Felix is your best friend. You swore you managed to get rid of that pesky crush a long time ago. But now, with three fingers buried knuckle-deep inside of you while you choke on his other lover’s cock? You think that it’s quite possible you never quite got over that crush.

Ollie spills himself on your tongue with a groan, removing his mask. Felix does the same and you watch as the two of them kiss. Oliver’s hands twist in Felix’s hair while Felix continues pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady rhythm until you reach the pinnacle of your ecstasy, crying out both of their names, your eyes rolling back, your toes curling as white hot pleasure shoots throughout your body. Felix leans down, breaking away from Oliver, and presses a kiss to your lips while Oliver nips at your neck, hands moving to squeeze your tits.

“Are you going to kill me too?” You ask after Felix pulls away for breath.

He and Oliver exchange a look before shaking their heads, the latter speaking up, “We have no intention of doing that, love.”

Felix brushes his thumb against your lower lip, “You’re our final girl. All of this was to get to you. And we don’t plan on letting go that easily.

[uselesssomebody]

i need more felix shit from u 😣😣

—Jealous Girl !

Fandom: ‘Saltburn’

Pairing: Felix Catton x fem! Best friend! Reader (also minor mentions of: Oliver quick x fem! Reader)

Synopsis: Tension and jealousy finally come to a head after you see your best friend Felix fucking another girl.

Content warning . Drug & alcohol use, watching without permission? possessiveness, friends to lovers with slight angst, dark! Ish reader // degradation & praise, facefucking, pnv, size kink, choking, breeding, mean! dom! Felix

If you ever explain how your best friend usually treats you, it can only be summed up into one word: gentle.

He treats you like glass. A beautiful, priceless artifact that requires great care. He pays for everything you own— your dresses, handbags, shoes. Even where you live, the infamous Saltburn estate. Every time he speaks to you, it’s like he’s speaking to a pet— sweet, gentle, but commanding all at once. In his eyes, you’re an innocent angel…or, as he puts it, a sweet bunny.

And you fucking hate it.

It doesn’t bother you in the sense that Felix cares for you; quite the contrary, in fact. You like his warmth, how protective he is, how sweet and kind he can be.

But he treats you too kindly. Too much like his other friends, too much like his sister, too much like a companion.

Not enough like a lover.

It seems that he’s completely oblivious to your longing stares, the way you follow him around and practically worship the ground he walks on. He never seems to grasp why you sit in his lap at parties, squirming around just a little too much, or why you cuddle up to him in his room when you’ve had a nightmare in your skimpy nightdress. He stares off into a space between and kisses girls right in front of you.

You want him to treat you like the sluts he brings home.

The whispers of how the boy fucks is something you’ve grown accustomed to. The girls you had become acquainted with who had slept with him, giggling to you about how much of a good lay he was. How mean, how brutal he was. How big he was.

‘This doesn’t bother you, does it? God, I know it’s weird because he’s your best friend ‘n all, but I don’t understand why you haven’t done him yet. I would’ve thought… y’know, given how close you two are...’

It makes you sick, knowing he does it to other girls and not you.

And now, sitting on a couch at one of Felix’s infamous Saltburn parties, you watch as he does it once again.

Your nose slides across the glass table in front of you. Two people sit beside you, making friendly conversation, but you can’t focus on them. Your nose is filled to the brim with glittery white powder as you stare at Felix’s new side piece through your faux lashes.

He’s got her in his lap, this girl. Olivia is her name, or something like that. You don’t like her. She’s too needy, clinging onto him a little too much for just a simple hookup. His hand grabs her hip as she presses kisses to his neck. He’s laughing, splayed across the leather couch across from you, as she whispers dirty phrases into his ear. You can tell that that’s what she’s doing because she’s grinding against him like a bitch in heat. It makes you stomach churn.

“(Y/N!)”

Your head looks up, and Farleigh stands in front of you. You give him a smile, though it’s mostly fake. You love him, but you can’t stop thinking about Felix.

Felix and her.

Farleigh chats with you about some guy he’s about to go and hook up with, telling you his whereabouts as a safety precaution. You nod to him as he leaves.

Felix has his hand up her skirt, now. He’s gripping her ass and rocking up into her clothed cunt.

You can’t look any longer.

You stumble to your feet, the room spinning a bit before turning to normal. An intoxicated kind of giddiness flows through you, and you brush past the couch and try to get Felix off your mind. You spot one of his new companions— Oliver. He’s quite handsome, you think. A little weird, a little quiet, but he’ll do for sure.

It isn’t long before you’ve got him in between your thighs in an empty corridor, a buzz flowing from your toes up to the crown of your head as he thrusts his tongue mercilessly into your drenched heat. He draws circles into your clit and laps at you like he’s parched. Oh, he’s good. Practiced, precise. He loves to please.

But he isn’t Felix.

Although Oliver’s tongue is skilled, it isn’t necessarily that that gets you to your peak. When you cum, you think of a familiar brunette with an eyebrow piercing, a wide smile, and dreamy eyes.

You let Oliver fuck you against the wall, after that.

It feels good. He’s big, rough, mean. Just how you like it.

Just how you want Felix to be.

You decide not to return to the party.

—

Your bare feet pad against the tiles of the Saltburn estate, your heels in your hand . The hallway is empty, save for one or two stragglers. No one really comes to this side of the house. You’re attempting to walk— or in this case, stumble— to your room. But everything is blurry, your feet dancing, and—

Shit, is this even your hallway?

You don’t know, really. You’re drunk, high. You don’t give a shit.

Your fingers are dancing across the walls, admiring the intricate paintings placed on each one. You lick your lips and taste a tequila shot, your dress askew. Fuck it.

You’re admiring The Fallen Angel by Alexandra Cabanel when you hear them.

It starts out slow— a deep, guttural moan, from the door to your left. It translates into a familiar voice, growling.

“What?” It teases. “Is my cock too much for you? Too big, huh?”

And then another sound comes through the thin walls and slightly opened door. A high pitched whine, pleading.

“Felix! Please, it feels so good.”

Your brows furrow. Drunken confusion. You silently creep up to the door, wondering. Your eyes peek through at the scene.

The color drains from your face.

Of course it’s Felix. Felix and her.

He’s got her bent over an expensive wood table. He’s pulling her hair, pressing his hips into her with every push and pull. She’s got her mouth open as her eyes roll back in ecstasy, and her cunt swallows him whole.

Your shoes drop to the ground in utter shock.

Now that seems to grab the pair’s attention. Felix looks back, and his eyes catch your dilated ones. He curses, slipping out of her and trying to conceal himself as he pulls his pants up. The girl catches sight of you, too, and she’s instantly pulling down her top and throwing her clothes on.

“Christ, Bunny!” Felix exclaims, flushed. “The fuck are you doing all the way over here?”

Your bottom lip wobbles, but you won’t cry. Not in front of him. Not in front of his whore.

You turn before you even know what you’re doing, and you scurry away from the scene with tears running hotly down your cheeks.

So much for parties.

—

When you wake in the morning, you’ve got a pounding headache and you’re sprawled out on your bed.

Your body aches, and you whine as you turn over on your side. The memories of last night flood back into your psyche, and you want to throw up. Of course the one thing you don’t want to remember is buried so prominently into your skull that it’s the first thing you think about.

It’s not like Felix hasn’t fucked anyone before. But seeing it, actually watching him do it to another girl, makes you sick. You don’t know how you’re going to look him in the eye at breakfast.

You stand up on wobbly legs. You make your way to the bathroom, throw your guts up at least twice, and then brush your teeth. A warm shower calms you down, though your head still hurts. You’ll have to take some ibuprofen later.

You make your way to the dining room in a juicy tracksuit and brown ugg boots. You slide a pair of sunnies on your face to protect you from the blinding sun, letting out a pained moan when it shines through the large stain glass window.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Farleigh coos from the table. You give him the middle finger before plopping down in a seat beside Oliver. His eyes scan over you, taking in your appearance. His knee bumps against yours, and he whispers a quiet ‘good morning’ to you.

God, he’s a clingy little shit, isn’t he?

Felix’s eyes follow your every move. Usually you sit next to him in the mornings, but as of right now, why bother? The closer to get to him, the more vivid the image of him fucking her comes into your mind.

You swallow down a few pieces of toast and some orange juice. Elsbeth is talking about a party reserved for Oliver for his birthday, one that they will host this weekend. How absolutely and utterly fan-fucking-tastic.

Oh, well. You’ll be able to dress up, at least. That’ll probably be the best part.

You ignore Felix for the entirety of the day. There’s still that fire coiling in your gut everytime you look at him, that hot bubble of rage and jealousy. Oliver looks up at you through long eyelashes during a game of tennis, and you find the way to satiate that heat.

—

It’s an awful idea. A terrible, mean, despicable idea.

You knew Felix would be out. It was around five pm— the time when he usually begins coming back to the house from his afternoon run. He would be back in twenty to thirty minutes.

“You’re incredibly fucked. Do you know that?”

Oliver whispers it huskily, pleased, as you push him down on a set of familiar satin sheets. You smirk, your cunt grinding down onto him.

“And you’re not?”

He grunts as you unbutton his shirt. You kiss down his chest, soon getting rid of your bra and top. You rock back on him slowly, teasing. His hand moves around to grope your ass, but you grab ahold of his wrist.

“Are you going to behave?”

A smirk plays on his lips. You want to slap it off of him.

“No.”

You snake your hand down to his bulge, giving it a considerable squeeze. He lets out a tiny gasp, biting his lower lip.

“What was that?” You say, almost threatening.

He gulps. He looks almost cute with the blush dusting across his face.

“Yes.” he whispers. You ghost your fingers over his waistband.

“What was that?”

“Yes, I’ll behave.”

He hisses it, and you’re pleased.

“Good boy.”

And then when he’s inside you, you bounce on him like your life depends on it. You look up above Felix’s bed, at the framed picture of you and him. He had hung it up, and for that you’re thankful. You concentrate on the way photo Felix’s fingers tightly grip a shot glass. Oliver lets out tiny whines as you clench around his cock, and you grind your clit against the base of him. You know that Felix catches you both when you look back at the slightly cracked door and see him there— blue headband, muscle tee and shorts. When you lock eyes, he moves away from the door and down the hall with a clenched jaw and cheeks blooming red.

—

The days pass from one into three, and soon it’s Oliver’s birthday. Felix has avoided you, much to your dismay. You thought he would give in sooner. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he was trying to pretend the situation didn’t happen altogether. But the hard stare he gives you whenever he sees you, the clenching of his hands, and the plain ignorance of your presence gives him away.

You’ve decided to dress as a Bunny for Oliver’s infamous costume party. Your favorite animal, but also another way to piss Felix off. Wearing a pink bodysuit, sparkly fishnets, and pink bunny ears, you make your way into the party beside Venetia, who’s ranting about her current situationship with some girl she met at a club. Scanning the crowd, you take notice of Felix from across the room. Angel wings sit on his shoulders, his eyes lined with a black eye pencil. He’s wearing a white wifebeater.

You go to the bar and take a few shots to stifle your nerves. Felix’s eyes follow you as you grab a bottle from the bartender and make your way outside.

It isn’t long before you’re absolutely plastered. Giggling to yourself, you make your way towards the hedge maze in the backyard. Felix’s voice, the one he hasn’t used to talk to you directly for a few days, interrupts your diddle daddling.

“We need to talk.”

You keep walking, him trailing behind you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Felix.”

His big hand grabbing your arm and spinning you around to look at him surprises you. He glares.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You back away, winding through the labyrinth of bushes. Felix groans as you begin to skip around each corner.

“This isn’t a game, y’know!” He calls, as he tries his best to keep up with you. It isn’t long before you’re both standing in the middle of the maze. The stone statue overpowers the both of your bodies as it leers down in a violent pose. You smile crookedly when Felix stalks over to you, making a beeline for the other side of the statue. It doesn’t seem to be funny to him.

He catches you when you least expect it, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, (Y/N)?!”

He yells it, infuriated, deep vocal cords strumming. It makes you jump. He never calls you by your real name.

He purses his lips, anger evident on his face as you smile up at him still.

“‘M jus’ having fun, Fel. Whats wrong with that?”

“What’s— what’s wrong with—“ he laughs, dry and humorless, as he pushes you away from him. “Whats wrong is that you fucked my friend in my room! What the hell went through your head?!“

You clench your teeth.

“I don’t know, Felix,” you utter sarcastically. “I really don’t know. Call it irritational horniness. But tell me. Are you mad? For once, once in your fucking life, are you mad?”

“Of course I’m mad!” he seethes, as if it’s obvious. “But why do you want that? What prompted this?”

You avert from his piercing gaze, turning your back on him. Your cheeks are flaring with heat from how he’s treating you, your inner thighs wet and sticky.

God, this is so wrong.

“I think you know.”

Genuinely confused, Felix throws up his hands. He’s exasperated.

“No, I don’t. I don’t, (Y/N), so tell me. Tell me the damn truth!”

“The truth?” You say, finally. “‘S that what you want?”

You whirl around, anger finally taking over in your usually pliant, doe eyes.

“The truth, Felix, is that you treat me like a kid!” You yell. Your voice cracks, and you hate it. “You treat me like a fucking child! Like your friend! Like a… like a—“

Your breath heaves, and you try to find the words you’re looking for. Felix looks at you, his brows furrowed.

You can’t open your mouth anymore, too distraught, too open. You’re saying all the things you promised you’d keep buried deep inside you.

Felix takes a step forward. You take a step back. Your lower back hits the stone statue, and you wince at the way it digs into your skin.

“What are you saying?” He asks, careful with his words. You laugh bitterly in his face— at least, as close as you can get to his face. He towers over you like a giant.

“I’m saying that after all this time, after all these years, I thought you’d notice how badly I want you. But clearly not, with the way I caught you fucking that cunt last weekend.”

The words finally come out— slurred because of your drunkenness, dry because you’ve given up. You’ve given up on Felix, on the possibility of him ever returning the feelings you’ve always had for him. You’ve given up on your friendship, on his kindness. You don’t want it anymore. Why continue this if it’s only going to hurt you?

The boy is stunned into silence for a mere moment.

“What?”

You turn away from his stare, looking down at the ground.

“You heard me, Felix.”

His eyes follow your lips, nose, eyes. His lips part ever so slightly, and his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black as realization settles over him.

“So that’s what you want?”

It comes out hushed, like a secret. His breath is hot against your lips as he leans in close to you.

“All this time you’ve been acting like this.. all because you want me to fuck you? Because you’re jealous?”

You stare up at him in a daze, silent. Your cheeks flare with embarrassment. You jump when Felix lets out a chuckle, something grating and deep, that permeates your bones and worms its way inside your guts.

“God, you’re sick.”

He scoffs, moving forward on his long legs. His big hand wraps itself around your hair and tugs. You let out a gasp as he tilts your head back, the burn of your scalp making your legs clench together.

“You’ve been torturing me for weeks—“ he spits, yanking at the roots of your hair even harder, and you let out a squeak. “— Not speaking to me, making me question what I could’ve possibly done wrong, fucking my friend in my bed, all because you want to me treat you like some whore?“

Your mouth gapes open, and you’re frozen like a deer in headlights as Felix finally gives you what you want. He continues to speak, but not before his knee is coming up to rub in between your thighs. It’s such a sudden movement, so aggressive, that your legs buckle and you grab onto his shoulders for purchase. His hands splay across your hips, moving you in tandem across the fabric of his jeans.

“Don’t worry.” He says. “You’ll never have to worry about that again.”

“Felix—” you start, but his hand slapping you clear across the face makes you lose all words. Your cheek flares with heat from his hand coming down on it, and you grasp the red mark in pain.

“Was he good?” he growls, grabbing the hand touching your face and putting it in his much larger one. He places it over his crotch, and you feel the giant bulge against the fabric. “Was he as big as me? Did he fuck you the way you thought I would?”

You shake, stuttering on every phrase in your vocabulary. Felix grinds into your hand.

“You think that I don’t want you like this?”

It comes out strained, tortured. Like it’s painful for you to even assume that. Your mouth waters at the feeling of his girth underneath your palm.

“I’ve never been this hard for anyone,” he breathes. “I jerked my cock every night when you were in my bed because I thought it was the closest I could get to you. I fucking…God, do you even know what you do me?“

He works his thigh against your pussy, and you whine desperately as you pull away from his assault on you. You kiss your way down his chest, worship his body, lave your tongue over the skin peeking out from his unbuttoned shirt as you sink down to your knees. Your hands fumble with his belt, waiting for the moment when his cock will be released and you’ll finally get what you’ve been begging for. He grunts, tilting his head as he watches you desperately fumble with the leather around his waist.

“Already trying to suck me off? You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

You press your mouth against his thigh and practically drool at his words. He looks down at you like a God, golden angel wings splaying out in the moonlight for you to gape at. How ironic it is, that he decided to wear this costume tonight.

“All for you, Felix,” you say, pulling his cock out of the confines of his jeans. You gape at his impressive length.

“That’s right,” he agrees, his thumb brushing over your lip. “Now put me in your mouth. Show me how much of a fucking slut you are.”

You do as you’re told, tongue lolling out to lick a stripe up his shaft. He clenches his jaw, watching as you hold eye contact with him when you take his dick into the warm, wet confines of your mouth. His hand wraps around the nape of your neck and he pushes you down onto him. Choking, your nose hits the soft bed of pubic hair trimmed neatly at his base. Your eyes roll back as he begins to fuck your throat, pleasure and electricity flowing through your head and down to your toes. The corners of your mouth burn as he stretches out your mouth.

“Didn’t know you could take dick so good,” Felix muses, his balls slapping against your chin. “If I would’ve known how badly you wanted this, I would’ve slid my cock inside you the night you caught me with that girl.”

That girl. He can’t even remember her name. It satisfies something dark that’s been blooming in you since you saw him sticking his dick where it didn’t belong.

You moan around him, spit trailing down your neck as you tongue at his slit. Your hands grip his big, meaty thighs, and it occurs to you just how strong he is. He could break you, rip you apart piece by piece, and you couldn’t do anything about it. The thought arouses you to no end.

“You pissed me off so fuckin’ much that night, y’know that?” He rambles, his thighs squeezing the sides of your face. He’s practically trapping you against his cock, and you try your hardest to breathe through your nose but you can feel your vision blurring at the edges. “You caught me in the middle of it, didn’t even say sorry. Didn’t help me finish. You’re a sick little bitch for watching me fuck her. I bet you touched yourself after that, didn’t you? Touched your little cunt thinking about the way I used her?”

You whimper around him, your fingers attempting to move down and rub against your clit. But Felix lets out a sound in the back of his throat and kicks your hand away.

“Don’t. You don’t get to cum tonight. You put your hands on me, or you don’t put them on anything at all.”

Your hands wrap around the back of his thighs, then, as you hollow your cheeks around him. You’ll do anything he demands you to.

After a long moment of being face fucked with only a few breathing breaks in between, your throat is scratchy and raw. Felix yanks you off of him, and you wheeze as you’re thrown to the ground, your hand going to your throat as your eyes drip with citrine tears. Felix stands for a moment to let you catch your breath. He’s still your best friend, after all— he cares about your well being, as angry as he is right now.

It isn’t long, however, before he’s grabbing you up by your elbow and bending you over the marble statue. Your cheek lands on the cold stone, the crotch of your bodysuit is ripped open, exposing your lace panties and the fat globes of your ass. You stick yourself out for him, moaning as he rips your underwear off of you and throws it on the ground. He spreads your legs and coos at your dripping cunt.

“Oh, look at that,” his fingers go to either side of your pussy lips, spreading them apart and revealing your teeny tiny hole. “It’s clenching s’much, isn’t it, sweetheart? It’s all swollen ‘n red. It’s been so worked up all night, I bet.”

“Felix,” you cry, a blubbering mess. “Please.”

He chuckles, rubbing the tip of his finger against your clit. You quiver underneath his touch, gasping when his aching cockhead suddenly brushes up against your entrance.

“I want to know how badly you want me. Tell me, darling. Tell me how pathetic you are.”

“I want it,” your voice comes out small, weak. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs. Wan’ you to stretch me out on your fat cock, Felix. Give it t’me, pleasepleaseplease…”

He lets out a dreamy sigh, feeling you trying to clench around the tip of his cock, trying to suck him in. Your head is fuzzy, your cunt throbbing. You need him more than you need air.

“Okay,” he lets out, whispering. It’s an oddly gentle tone, and you know it’s because this situation could change the outcome of your friendship forever. “Okay, sweetheart.”

He pushes forward, the fat tip of his cock popping into your entrance, and you let out a mewl. Felix is big, and not just in his height or his shoulders. He stretches you so deliciously to the point where it’s borderline painful.

“Oh my god,” he grits his teeth, his head tipping back. “God, you’re a tight little thing. So tiny..”

You know he’s talking to your pussy now, drunk off the way you’re wrapping around his shaft. He moves slow, gentle strokes against your aching pussy, his fingers digging bruises into your hips as he struggles to contain himself.

Your cheek is smushed against the hard surface below you, but that doesn’t stop you from speaking.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, moaning. “Destroy me, rip me apart.. I don’t care, Felix.”

He moans along with you, a sound of pure, unleashed pleasure. His hips speed up, and he fucks into your cunt with reckless abandon as your nails dig into the marble below you. His cock is so deep that you can almost feel him in your throat.

He angles at a spot inside that has you keening, your hips fucking back onto him as he rams into you. Your nails scrape against the statue, tears running down your cheeks.

“Felix,” you moan out, but it’s hard to speak as the breath is being knocked out of you.

“Mmm,” he hums, grabbing your hips. “‘M gonna cum. ‘M gonna cum in your sweet little pussy.”

“Please,” you gasp. “Please, fill me up, fill up my pussy!”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” His arms lift your body up, and his biceps curl around your neck. Your eyes widen as he tightens his grip, placing you in a chokehold underneath him. His hips slap against yours, his steady words bordering on a whine. “You want me to cum inside you? Get you all pregnant and full? Mmm, that’d be a pretty sight, wouldn’t it…”

You clench down on him. He growls, a sigh of your name tumbling out of his mouth. His hips stutter. And with one last harsh thrust, he’s cumming. His warmth fills you to the brim and spills over the cusp as he fucks into you, teeth scraping against your neck as he bites down and leaves a mark. Sweat drips drown your temple, small pants escaping your lips as you try to swallow oxygen into your lungs. Felix’s arms are still wrapped around you neck, but they aren’t wrapped tight enough to cut off your air completely.

Definitely tight enough to bruise, though.

He slows, after a few more moments. You still grind onto his overstimulated cock, and he squeezes your throat in warning.

“What did I tell you? You don’t get to cum tonight.”

Your face becomes blotchy with tears, and you sob as he pulls out of you. His cum spills down onto the concrete floor, your pussy gushing with his seed, and you want to scream.

“But Felix,” you babble, grabbing onto his arm as he tucks himself back into his pants. “No, baby, please—“

“This is what you wanted,” he replies, nonchalant, as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out. His glances down at the creamy spend that had fallen out of you and onto the ground. Grabbing you by your hair, he pushes you down onto your knees. He gestures to his cum, licking his lips.

“Now clean that up,” he demands. “Wouldn’t want to leave a mess, would we?”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry

[uselesssomebody]

just a piece

summary: dave only married you to keep his life as a hitman hidden. but when he comes home one day to you having cooked one of his childhood meals, he is doubting if he only married you out of necessity.

pairing: dave york x f!reader word count: 3.6k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n ; unprotected p in v; dirty talk, lowkey breeding kink; love/hate; choking; mentions of killing people 

• masterlist •

To the world, he seemed to have a perfect life.

A nice, sizable house with a huge garden and plenty of space to expand. A loving wife, always making him lunch to take to work with him, always waiting for him when he had to leave on an extended work trip. Adorable kids who loved their dad more than anything, running out the front door when they saw his car pull into the driveway.

In reality, he hated it all.

Well, he loved the house and he loved the kids.

But he hated his wife. 

Wife.

It was simply a sham. A fucking fraud, an illusion to keep his profession as a hitman hidden from everyone.

Dave married her because he had to marry someone, and she seemed sweet enough, pliable enough. 

She was pretty, there was no doubt. 

He couldn’t have done all this with a wife he hated and whom he didn’t find attractive.

It was harder to accuse a hardworking family man with two kids of any murders than someone who lived alone.

So here she was.

Whenever he came home, he fucked her to keep her happy. Fucked her to let go of the tension inside him.

Maybe also because he enjoyed it. The warm, wet pussy of a wife he hated was better than his own fist after all.

Still, no matter how long he was gone for, he never found himself cheating.

Would it still be cheating even though he didn’t love her?

Because he didn’t, she was just a piece to keep up the appearance. As were the kids, as much as he loved them.

But not her.

Or did he?

Sometimes he found himself in doubt, when she greeted him with a wide smile and loving eyes after he came home from some investigation which actually was just another one of his hitman jobs.

Kissing him so hard he had to catch his breath after.

The way she cared for him, warm dinners every night, breakfast every morning.

She loved him, she really did.

But he didn’t love her.

No, he hated her.

When he came home this time, after having been gone for two weeks to take out some guy in fucking Italy of all places, a country his wife had always wanted to visit, he was already greeted by her sing song voice from the kitchen.

“Dave! You’re back!” She said with excitement, appearing in his view as she came from the kitchen, walking towards him with her arms spread wide. “I missed you, honey!”

His smile matched hers, even if it was just pretend, kissing her deeply as he embraced her.

Smelling sweet like her favourite perfume, the expensive one from Gucci she usually wore when he came home.

Why did he even remember this? Like it was important.

“Missed you too.” He replied, still smiling as he kissed her forehead. Hand smoothing down her sides, wandering over her shirt and then to her ass, nice and round in her jeans.

Sometimes he could imagine her in one of those frilly dresses the women wore in the 50s, the housewives who greeted their husbands with a fresh pie.

She was like that in a way, just a little more outspoken than the women of the 50s.

Then he smelled it, hearty and rich, a smell he knew but which he couldn’t quite place. 

As she looked at him, his brows furrowed in thought, she giggled, biting her lip.

“Do you recognize it?” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him. Waiting for him to get it.

Dave had spoken so much about it before he left, not ever really to her, but she had heard him.

This dish his mother used to make him, one of his favourites.

“Carbonada.” The realization hit him, looking at her with a questioning stare.

She nodded, the joy on her face almost infectious, her small hands finding his, pulling him into the kitchen with her.

“I’ve looked everywhere for a recipe. You’ve talked about it to Matt next door, saying it was your favourite.” She said and somehow he wished he could turn her sweet voice off sometimes. 

The only way she shut up was with a cock in her mouth, her muffled whimpers so much better. 

Yet, he found himself listening, genuinely curious and impressed.

“It took me so long to perfect it, the way you described it, I really hope you like it.”

She was too sweet. Too caring, too kind.

For him at least.

There were rare moments in which he felt pity for her, felt like she deserved a husband who actually cared about her beyond the appearance he had to keep up to be the perfect American family. 

Someone who saw her as more than a hole to fuck, than the means to an end.

She let go of his hands to grab a spoon from the cabinet, and he found himself surprised to miss her touch for the first time, his hands warm where she had touched him.

Like a mark, fingers flexing as he stood behind her, watching her as she lifted the lid off the pot on the stove, white steam wafting upwards, carrying the smell right to him.

It smelled like his childhood, something he hadn’t smelled in decades.

Looked like it, too.

The beef, the squash, the rice, the potatoes. She even used green beans and corn.

It seemed a little more liquid than the stew his mother used to make, but besides that, exactly the same.

Dipping the spoon in, she turned around to Dave, holding one hand below it so the soup wouldn’t drip onto the floor, then held it out to him.

“Careful, baby, it’s still nice and hot.” A laugh accompanied her words, the laugh he had come to tolerate but which now seemed quite nice to hear.

“Well, let’s see what you cooked up, sweetpea.” He said, smiling a little.

Blowing on the food once or twice to cool it off, he carefully ate from it, her smile only widening as she watched his eyes go wide.

Almost exactly like the one he knew. Maybe a little too much paprika and not enough onions, but just as hearty and tasty as he knew it.

He couldn’t believe that she would go above and beyond to do this for him, from something she had only overheard, no less.

Did he really hate her as much as he thought he did?

Could he hate those big, gorgeous eyes that looked at him with hope and excitement as he chewed? That sweet smile of hers? Her cheeks, so soft and round as she grinned so wide?

“Fuck.” He said, and for a moment he watched her smile fade just a tad. Felt his heart clench just the littlest bit at the thought that she could be disappointed.

His broad hands cupped the back of her head and pulled her to him, a yelp escaping her when he pressed his lips against hers with a passion she rarely saw from him.

Not that he wasn’t passionate, but this surprised even her, pushing her against the counter, the spoon falling from her hand and landing on the floor with a loud noise.

Her hands cupped his cheeks as she kissed him back, wondering if this meant that he liked it.

She hoped, having worked on it the entire two weeks he was gone.

“How did you do that?” Dave asked against her lips, nose brushing against hers. He had never noticed just how pretty her eyes could be, always somewhat detached from what he was doing when he was around her.

Couldn’t get attached. 

Couldn’t?

He wasn’t. He hated her.

Still, even when he fucked her he preferred to push her face into the mattress, take her in some way that he didn’t have to look into her face. Not that she had ever minded.

“Tried it again and again ‘til I thought it was good.” She giggled, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. Something was different about him today. “The kids can’t see it anymore and all the neighbours got their fill, Matt says ‘Thank you’.”

Dave could imagine her here at the stove, trying again and again to get it right, to please him.

Like the dutiful, little wife she was.

“God, I love you.” He sighed, and for the first time, he didn’t think that he was lying.

It scared him, he shouldn’t feel anything for her. It was dangerous, already damn dangerous that he loved their kids as much as he did. 

But her? She was a piece.

Nothing more than a thread to tie the illusion of a happy family together.

Fuck, he couldn’t love her.

“So, it’s good?” She asked, her hands wandering down over his neck, to his shoulders and coming to rest on his chest, curling into the crisp, white dress shirt he still wore. “Did I do good?”

Always out for praise. Hard to achieve with a husband like him but sometimes he gave her what she needed.

This time, it was genuine.

“Near perfect, babe.” He kissed her again, licking along her lips, begging for entry. She granted it to him, tasting like the lemonade she liked so much, the sweet mixing with the salty in his mouth.

Suddenly, he felt an urge for her that went beyond his pent up emotions from the past two weeks. Not that he hadn’t taken care of himself, because he did.

Always faceless women, but her body. Never her face.

Always her muffled moans and whimpers and those screams she let out when he was a bit rougher when the kids were with friends.

Did some fucking soup really make him cave in? What the fuck had she put in it that made him weak for her, suddenly?

A lapse in judgement, surely. Exhausted from his mission, brain weak.

“Are the kids home?” He asked in between kisses, already turning them around, hands wandering to her ass, to her hips, walking them in the direction of their living room.

She shook her head and a quiet groan left him, glad that he had her to herself.

“Slumber party.”

Her hand pressed against the bulge in his suit pants, half hard already, making her giggle as he groaned again, deeper this time. Palming him, feeling the thick outline of him as that familiar throbbing sensation set in between her thighs.

Growing wet at the thought of him inside of her, having missed him so much. 

The toys she had and her fingers just weren’t the same as his girthy cock filling her up.

“Don’t you want to eat first?” She asked, the back of her legs bumping against their sofa, fingers curling into his shirt to hold onto him. 

“Got a different appetite, sweetpea.”

His eyes were hungry, dark and piercing. Hands immediately moving to the button of her jeans, opening it as he kissed her again.

Pulling down the zipper, then letting his hand sneak into her pants.

She gasped when his thick fingers pressed against her clothed clit, a low hum following after. Her hands grabbed his biceps, steadying herself.

Always so pliable, that was the one thing he loved about her.

Jaw slack and eyes fighting to stay open as he coaxed more sounds out of her, pressing down harder.

“Dave-” She whimpered, hissing when he removed his hand again, yanking down her jeans. “I need you, baby.”

“Need you too.” He responded, voice gravelly as he helped her step out of her pants, then her underwear. “C’mon, darling.”

He did need her. Desire simmered deep in his abdomen, but he was still unnerved by the sudden sliver of affection he felt.

As if he wanted her for her and not because his dick was aching to feel something other than the rough palm of his fist.

Ached for her warm, wet pussy, filling her up until she was begging for his cum. Begging him to fuck another baby into her.

She didn’t know he had gotten sterilized right after their daughter had been born.

Back then he couldn’t stand the thought of her pregnant again, relying on him and crying for him. Calling every night while he was glad to be away from her for once.

Now… there was a tiny voice in his head telling him another would be great.

He shook his head as if to get rid of the thoughts, watching as she got on the sofa, on all fours. The way he usually fucked her.

On all fours, over the counter or kitchen island. Facing away from him even when she rode him.

Sometimes he indulged her, and while he didn’t mind looking at her face, it just felt different, felt better when he didn’t have to.

“No.” He heard himself say, reaching out lay his hand on her clothed shoulder before he could stop himself. “Get on your back, wanna see those pretty tits bounce when I fuck you.”

That was partly why, but he also felt the sudden urge to watch her face.

What the hell was happening to him?

A lapse of judgement.

Just a lapse of judgement.

She grinned, turning around and sitting down instead, leaning back onto her hands and spreading her legs for him.

Soaking pussy on display for him, glistening and waiting for him.

“Take off your shirt.” He ordered, hungry eyes raking over her body as he opened the buttons of his dress shirt. 

Fuck, she was gorgeous, always has been. Not even the way their kids changed her could really turn him off.

Back then, he had really thought it would.

She waited for a moment, her hands wandering along the inside of her thighs, slow and teasing as she looked up at him. Always a little mischievous.

Dave didn’t know whether he should hate or admire it, shrugging his shirt off and stripping out of his undershirt next.

She loved his soft stomach, he used to be leaner, before he met her. A little more muscular.

He still was muscular, strong when he wrapped his arms around her or pushed her into the mattress when his hips snapped into hers.

But now a little soft layer had built around them, from all the meals she was cooking every day.

He’d be damned to ever hate her food. What a damn talented wife he had, always whipping up the best possible versions of the dishes he knew, even impressing the neighbours when they invited them over.

She liked him soft.

When he raised his brows, she took off her t-shirt, throwing it to the side, working on her bra next as he worked on his pants.

She watched how his hard dick sprung free when he had finally taken off everything, crawling over her and pushing her down onto the sofa while kissing her.

One of his hands groped her breast, his mouth swallowing the moan that left hers. So soft and warm in his hand, the rough pad of his thumb brushing over the hardened nipple.

A shiver ran through her, letting him press her into the soft cushions, spreading her legs for him, feeling his thighs brush against her skin.

Cock heavy and leaking, resting against her stomach, his hand wandering higher to her throat.

Not squeezing, just feeling her faint pulse as she looked up at him with lidded eyes, so desperate for him.

There was something about this he enjoyed, the sight of his hand wrapped around her throat, the same way he killed people. If he just squeezed a little too hard, that desperate gaze would vanish from her face, from her pretty face.

Sometimes he wished he could, but then all of it would have been for nothing. And he had the kids, his son and his daughter that he loved so much.

He couldn’t do that to them.

Or to her.

“Fuck me, Dave.” She whined, her hips canting upwards, pussy aching for him. “I need your cock.”

“Is my wife’s little pussy hurting?” He asked with a grin, enjoying to see her like this.

Loved teasing her until she was begging him to fuck her, until he could do just about anything to her.

Her hand wandered to his dick, wrapping her tiny hand around the thick base, guiding him to her weeping entrance as she nodded.

“Need me to fill you up, sweetpea?” He asked, voice so saccharine sweet it bordered on mocking. “Want me to split you open?”

“Yes, Dave, please.”

Such a sweet voice.

Who could resist that? Slowly pressing forward, enjoying every inch of her tight heat, enjoying how she gasped, the way her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

What a sight.

Hand wrapped around her throat and her face already so blissed out as if he had just fucked her a few times.

Maybe he’d always fuck her like this now, watching her face when he buried himself inside of her, all the way to the hilt, until she whimpered and pressed her thighs against his hips.

“You’ve been good while I was gone?” Dave asked, already pulling back before slowly sinking into her again. She liked the pain, the faint sting of him fucking her open. “Or did you fuck yourself on some silicone dick thinking about your husband?”

Her nails dug into his bicep, the full feeling of him inside of her too much, only getting better with his words.

Shaking her head, forcing her pretty eyes open to look at him. “Didn’t fuck myself.”

He chuckled, snapping his hips into her harshly, making her cry out, before continuing his slow pace.

“Played with your little clit then, thinking about my fingers?” The way she clenched around him told him all he needed to know. “Of course you did, can’t go two weeks without me, baby.”

Fingers tightening around her throat, he sped up, the wet sounds of her pussy and skin slapping against skin echoing in the living room.

“You jerk off, too.” She said and he chuckled, the sound making her smile a hazy smile, getting lost quickly in the feeling of him fucking into her, his fingers slowing down the bloodflow. “Need me just as much.”

Dave laughed.

It was relief that he needed, thinking about her wetting his dick when he was away, not her. 

Maybe he needed her a little bit.

No, he knew what was stupid. She was just a piece.

A pretty piece with too much devotion.

She got closer quickly, her fingers finding her clit as he kept pistoning into her, her whimpers growing louder.

“And now my cock isn’t even enough?” He asked, squeezing just a little more, her eyes rolling into her head again. Mouth hanging open, sounds turning more and more breathy with each thrust.

Suddenly he realized he hadn’t watched her tits once, seeing them bounce in the periphery of his vision but keeping his eyes locked on her face.

Just what the fuck was happening to him that he’d rather watch her cockdrunk face than her pretty tits bouncing with each thrust.

When he’d avoided it for so long.

“Dave, please!” She whined, voice small as she came closer. “Fill me up, please!”

He groaned, her words almost doing him in. Loving when she begged for his cum, so hungry for it.

“Gonna fill you up, don’t worry, darling.” He grunted, losing his rhythm, thrusts becoming sloppy. “Cum for me, wanna feel your little pussy.”

She snapped, taking a sharp breath as her body seized up, the nails on his arms almost breaking skin as she came, squeezing his dick tightly. Almost forcing him out of her if he wasn’t thrusting into her with such a force that he pushed her higher with each snap of his hips.

“There you go, baby, just like that.”

He followed after, stilling inside of her and filling her up like he promised, lips finding hers as a deep groan rumbled in his chest. Grip around her neck loosening, hand moving over her breast, down her side and to her thigh, squeezing the meaty flesh there.

Forehead resting against hers as they both calmed down, her eyes opening to look into his, so close to her.

She loved his dark eyes, smiling as she caught her breath, her hands smoothing over his back now, wandering into his hair.

A shiver went down his spine when her nails raked over his scalp, once again so loving and gentle.

Too good for what he felt for her.

Though laying here with her, buried inside her still throbbing pussy, he felt a different kind of warmth inside him, cursing himself for it.

He wasn’t sure anymore if it was that fucking soup she made.

Must’ve been, showing him just how attentive she really was, the whole thing awakening something inside of him that he thought he had killed a long time ago.

“Don’t wanna get rid of you but,” she said suddenly, kissing his nose as she still looked up at him with those loving eyes, “you should eat, you must be hungry, baby.”

Dave chuckled.

Too damn caring.

“You’re right, I should eat.” He said, pulling out of her gently, forehead still resting against hers. “Then I’ll get my dessert upstairs.”

She giggled, cupping his cheeks.

He was so handsome, she could stare at him all day.

“You can also have it in the kitchen if you’re that starved.” She said with a mischievous grin, laughing quietly.

Yeah, something was different today.

And he wasn’t sure if this was good or bad.

None of this had been part of the plan.

Because of some stupid, fucking soup.

Dave had gotten himself into a situation more dangerous than any of the missions he’d been on in his entire life.

Falling in love with the wife he was supposed to hate.

[uselesssomebody]

just being neighbourly

little note: these are in order however there are major gaps between these scenarios where others (yet to be written) would take place… also these are posted unedited, as per usual. it just wouldn’t be me if i edited it, now would it?

the one where they first see you (+ bonus: the one where the plan is made)

the one where they get to have you for the first time <3

the one where they knock you up (+ bonus: the one where you find out your pregnant)

the one where he fucks you in the kitchen

the one where steven gets a show

and more to come…

[uselesssomebody]

things friends do.

felix catton x reader (wc: 3.1k)

summary: things friends do include but are not excluded to: sleeping in each other’s bed, kissing, sharing beer, fucking each other

warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected sex

author’s note: y’all i have refused to believe that jacob elordi was attractive but saltburn did me in

————————————————————————

You were not in love with Felix Catton.

And Felix Catton was not in love with you.

He was a lover boy, but he was not your lover boy.

The thing about Felix was that he had just about everyone at his disposal. Girls, guys, it didn't matter. Everything belonged to him so long as he wanted it. But it didn't feel that way. You never felt as though you were owned by him. It was just that he was Felix and who didn't want to belong to him?

Of course 'just friends' didn't constantly have their hands all over each other, didn't sleep in each other's bed or see each other inappropriately naked. And 'just friends' definitely didn't kiss each other on the mouth.

But this was Felix.

Not Oliver, or Farleigh, or Veneita. Felix.

—

The party is so electric that you're not sure if it's the music or your own erratic heartbeat thumping in your ears. The place is so packed that at some point the entire bar had become part of the main dance floor in order to accommodate for the dizzying array of overheated, intoxicated bodies moving this way and that. Blue light illuminates the otherwise dark room. Flashes of neon green splash across swaying bodies, highlighting dancers as they navigate the floor.

To no one's surprise, Felix is in the center of it all. He'd gravitated towards the pole in the middle of the room like a magnet and had taken to it to pay his dues, his slender body rolling to the music with all of his typical charisma.

After a few beers, you're pleasantly buzzed, but you'll probably be toeing the line once you finish the fourth in your hand. Felix is well on his way to a monster hangover, one that he'll sleep off on the floor of your dorm room. Farleigh is right behind him, likely just as intoxicated, but with him you could never tell. Farleigh was always the same catty bitch no matter how drunk or sober he was. You loved him, but he was a bitch.

A heavy weight suddenly staggers upon your shoulders, and you groan against the weight, both you and Felix swaying dangerously to the side as he throws his arm around you. Usually this wouldn't work because he's so ridiculously tall but the alcohol had made him a little less coordinated than usual and he's slouched down to closer to your height. Beer sloshes over the rim of his plastic cup and splashes onto the floor at your feet.

"Having fun, darling?" he asks, half shouting in your ear to be heard over the music.

"Always," you laugh, though it's mostly directed at him.

His skin is clammy with sweat and his breath is coated with the familiar, yeasty smell of beer. "Where's Farleigh?" Felix doesn't even wait for your response before he's shouting for him. "Ay! Farleigh!" There's a cigarette pinched between two fingers of the same hand that's holding onto his cup, and he raises it to get his friend's attention.

His arm still around you, you dodge the spilling liquid heading for your feet. "Felix! Felix, careful!" you scold him, still laughing, so the smile doesn't disappear from his face.

In an attempt to solve the problem, he leans forward and starts to swallow back the remainder of the beer in his cup. He must underestimate just how much he had left to go because it starts to escape past the sides of his mouth, dripping past his jaw and down the front of his open shirt.

You shriek again. "Felix!"

Laughing, he pulls the cup away and brings it towards you. Before you can protest, he's tipping it back into your mouth. He leaves you no choice but to swallow it or wear it across the front of your shirt so you do your best to drink the remaining beer, more nursing from the cup than gulping as Felix was.

It leaves your lips and chin wet, and before you can wipe the excess beer away, Felix does it himself, somewhat roughly dragging his thumb under your lip. He then sucks the digit into his mouth, hardly thinking twice about it. It would have been erotic with anyone else. But this was everyday with Felix. It would have been weird if you hadn't chugged the backwash of his beer.

His attention is just as quickly drug from you to Farleigh. You hadn't noticed the other boy approaching. He gives you a wicked smile, a look in his eyes like he wants to say something but refrains. You tilt your head, prepared to ask him what his mischievous look is all about but Felix interrupts you.

"Farleigh, mate," Felix begins still hugging you close. "The girls are looking a bit bored. What do ya think?"

Across the room, India and Annabel are sitting on a couch together. The piece of furniture itself has certainly seen better days, torn and stained with bodily fluids of varying levels of disgusting. There's a guy with his arm slung around India, but for all she's paying attention to him, he might as well not exist. She's drinking from a bottle of champagne and couldn't look less interested in him.

Farleigh's eyes track from you to Felix, as though making some sort of connection, then he smiles cheshire-like. "Oh yeah, mate. You know, I do think India was actually looking for you earlier." His sinister brown eyes lock with yours, as if waiting for you to object. "Why don't you go put her out of her misery. (Y/n) and I will go busy ourselves at the bar."

Felix grins crookedly, nothing but honest fun shining in his blown pupils. "I will see you two later."

He straightens but not before twisting his neck, body still plastered to yours, and he plants a sloppy kiss to the side of your mouth. His lips taste like beer and nicotine. It's not really even a kiss, just a lack of coordination on Felix's part that he didn't catch your cheek. If Farleigh hadn't been trying to start something in the first place, you wouldn't have even thought twice about it.

It's not the first time Felix has kissed you. Hell, he's probably even kissed Farleigh at some point. Maybe not on the mouth because they were cousins, but that's besides the point. Friends kissed each other all the time. This wasn't anything new.

As Felix removes himself from you, his tall figure walking over to grab India's hand and lead her from the couch, the guy who had been flirting with her for the past hour glaring after them, you level your stare with Farleigh's. "What's that look about?"

Farleigh crosses his arms, looking as full of himself as ever, and rolls his eyes. He really was a bitch sometimes. "Fuck the friend code and fuck him already. You know you want to."

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't want to fuck him, Farleigh."

You don't. Things just weren't like that between you and Felix. Sure, maybe there had been a few occasions where you'd sucked him off and he'd done the same for you in return but that was all purely situational. There were no feelings attached. Just two friends who were close enough to do that kind of thing without it being weird.

Farleigh just scoffs at your ignorance, pushing past you with his shoulder to head over to the bar. "Just like sweet little Ollie doesn't want to fuck him? Please, neither of you look at him all that different."

"Everyone looks at him like that," you argue. "He's Felix."

"No, everyone looks at him like they want his dick in their mouth. You look at him like you'd let him do absolutely anything he fucking wants to you. And honestly, (Y/n), it's kinda sad." He says the last part with faux pity, his voice demeaning.

You scowl at him as he turns back around and walks over to the bar.

Fuck Farleigh. You did not want to fuck Felix.

And fuck him for putting the thought in your head.

—

It's nearing two am by the time you remove yourself from the bar. You're no more intoxicated than you were earlier, having cut yourself off after chugging the last of Felix's drink, but you weren't particularly keen on walking in on Felix and India after tonight so you'd resigned yourself to sitting on a barstool for the remainder of the night.

You keep telling yourself that you weren't bothered by him having sex with her, but Farleigh had put the thought in your head and it wouldn't leave.

Of course you liked Felix. Who didn't like Felix? But did you want to sleep with him? No.

Maybe.

It wasn't like he wouldn't do it if you asked. But Felix would have sex with anything that walked. And you weren't India. You were his best friend. And no matter now many times you two had pushed the line of being just friends, having sex with him would completely ruin the line all together. And then what? There nowhere to go after you start dating your best friend. If it crashes and burns it's game over. And with Felix, that was a guarantee.

You pass India going opposite of you down the hall. One of the straps of her dress is hanging off her shoulder, bedazzled high heels in her hands as she struggles to slip them back on. There's a dark purple hickey at the junction of her throat and collarbone and another lighter one above her breast. You don't say anything to her, just push past her into Felix's dorm.

He's sprawled out across the top of the bed that he never makes, shirtless and only a pair of flimsy boxers to cover his bareness. His head rolls towards you, cigarette between his lips.

"Hey," he greets, smoke spilling from his mouth. "You have a good time with Farleigh?"

You pick your way through the disaster of his room, stepping around empty boxes of pizza and abandoned articles of clothing until you find something that looks wearable. You unzip your dress, only half turned away from him as you pull on one of his shirts. He's seen you naked before and so your ass and the side of your boobs is hardly scandalous to him.

"Farleigh is an ass," you retort, crawling onto his mattress to settle into the empty space at his side. It's without a doubt the same space that India had been just a few minutes before.

Felix frowns, the piercing his brow moving downwards with the expression. "What's he said to you?" His tone is concerned because he knows how his cousin can be.

You just sigh in response, shifting into a more comfortable position at his side. Felix takes another drag of his cigarette while he waits for your response. Farleighs words run through your head again.

"Why haven't we had sex?"

He actually laughs at that one, sitting up on one of his elbows so that he can see you better. The shag of his dark brunette hair hangs over his forehead as he looks down at you. "Do you want to have sex?"

While his tone is amused and humorous, you know he's genuinely asking. Felix would never make fun of you for that kind of thing.

You shrug, looking up into his bemused brown eyes. "I don't know. Maybe?"

This conversation shouldn't be as casual as you're making it out to be, and maybe it wouldn't have been with anyone else, but this is Felix. He's your best friend.

Slowly, he leans down and places a kiss on your lips. It's fairly brief, hardly even long enough for you to kiss him back before he's pulling away. "Then let's have sex," he says, and it's as simple as that.

Felix leans down again, connecting your mouths. Without breaking the kiss, he shifts from where he'd been laying beside you to bracket your hips with his knees. His long fingers find the buttons of his shirt that you just put on and begin to unbutton them, his hands sliding down your sides until you're squirming.

"Felix," you whine, already short of breath from his touch.

"Relax, baby. I've got you," he murmurs into your mouth, sliding one of his hands into your hair, the blunt of his nails scraping against your scalp. It gives him enough purchase to tip your head back and expose your neck to his unrelenting mouth. The hot heat of his mouth pants against the underside of your jaw, the wet muscle of his tongue laving along your throat.

His other hand slides down your hip, then your thigh before coming to your panties. You have to force yourself not to squirm away in anticipation. Thankfully, Felix isn't a tease and he uses two of his fingers to pull your panties to the side. You do, however, jump when he slides them into your slick hole without any hesitation.

The bastard snickers against your throat. "Sorry," he apologizes, kissing apologetically at your jaw. "I guess I should have warned you."

All you can do is huff, your fingers tugging at his tangle of brown hair. He grins at your inability to respond before kissing your mouth again. He swallows the noise that escapes you when he curls his fingers and your back arches off of the bed. He does it again, this time scissoring them to stretch your hole. The burn is more pleasurable than uncomfortable, but it leaves you gasping into his open mouth.

Just when you think that's all he has to offer with his fingers, they somehow slip even further, hitting some part deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed. He curls them and you actually cry out, your knees knocking at his hips to push him away.

"I know, I know," he soothes, using the broadness of his shoulders to keep your legs in place. Felix curls his fingers into your smooth walls a few more times, his thumb circling your clit until you swear you can't take anymore. It's torture, the length of his two fingers inside of you.

Finally, he pulls them away before you can actually start crying. Your arousal coats his long fingers and drips down his wrist, glistening in the darkness of his room. Felix's brown eyes hold yours as he sticks them into his mouth, refusing to look away even as his tongue dips between them. You can barley swallow the spit in your mouth.

Felix grins, leaning down to kiss you. Even if you hadn't wanted to taste yourself on his lips, he doesn't give you much of a choice, his tongue dipping into your mouth. He moans, and it's quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever heard.

Then he's disconnecting your mouths to slide down his boxers. His hard cock bobs free, brushing against the lean planes of his stomach. You've seen Felix's dick before. It's no surprise to you how large he is— incredibly long with a perfectly mushroomed tip— but you've never had to think about it actually going inside of you.

His hand catches your jaw, forcing you to look at his face. There must have been flash of fear in your eyes because he murmurs sweetly, "Look at my face, okay? I want to see you."

You nod as best you can in his hold.

You're not sure if it's on purpose or not but he misses the first try, his cock sliding through your slick and nudging at your clit. Your whole body jolts but his hand at your throat holds you in place.

The second time, his mushroomed head catches at your hole and he slips in, meeting little resistance. He slides in only another inch or so before stopping, his cock already snug inside of you. You whine when he tries to push in further.

Felix kind of laughs, his hand reaching down to circle his thumb at your clit. "M'sorry, baby. You're so tight. Just give me a second."

You swallow, willing back tears. It's not that it hurts, not really, just the fact that he feels so good and you want him inside of you.

Without warning, his hand splays across your stomach and he uses the leverage to push further inside of you. This time your muscles relax enough around him and he slides all the way in.

You moan at the feel of him entirely inside of you.

“There we go,” he groans, the muscles of his abdomen contracting as he holds himself up. Now fully inside of you, he begins rocking his hips, his dick hitting that spongey spot inside of you with every thrust. Felix is breathing heavily into your ear, the squelching of him sliding in and out of you the only other sound in the room.

Soon Felix hits a spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and almost immediately you’re coming, clenching around him as you do so.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Felix thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out just before he can come inside of you. He spills partially onto the bed and partially onto your stomach. When he’s finished, he holds himself up over you avoiding his own release leaking onto you stomach.

When his eyes find yours, he grins, that signature crooked smile appearing onto his face. You can’t help but laugh, your head falling back into the pillow. Felix laughs too. Not because he particularly knows what’s so funny but because you’re laughing.

You’re laughing and he loves you.

He leans over grabbing a tissue from the box beside his bed and wipes you off as best as he can before tossing it onto the floor and laying back down beside you, an arm behind his head You rest your head on his other arm, scooting in closer to his side.

“Are we going to talk about this?” he asks, looking down at you.

You smile to yourself, watching his toes nudge yours instead of looking back at him. “About what?”

“(Y/n), we’ve been friends since grade school and probably kissed a million times.”

Eventually you look up at him, doing your best to not look so sheepish. “Farleigh told me I was worse than Oliver. Can you believe that?”

Felix scoff, his fingers scratching through your hair. “I wouldn’t fuck Oliver.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Yeah you would.”

Felix barks out a laugh. “Yeah, I would,” he agrees.

[uselesssomebody]

Completed - 09/04/2023

Book Cover - Moodboards - AO3 LINK

Series beta-read/edited by @whatthefishh

Chapter 1: The Awakening

Chapter 2: Voices - Moodboard

Chapter 3: It's Wrong

Chapter 4: It's a Date

Chapter 5: The Broken Machine

Chapter 6: The Hathor Effect

Chapter 7: The Goldfish Problem

Chapter 8: Anything? Anything...

Chapter 9: The Pain of Morality

Chapter 10: Some Heroes Wear Ties

Chapter 11: Torn to Pieces

Chapter 12: Black Ties, White Lace, and Birthday Cake

Chapter 13: Inner Demons

Chapter 14: The Truth About Steven

Chapter 15: Forgiveness and Understanding

Chapter 16: Those Three Words

Chapter 17: What Happens in Egypt

Chapter 18: The Pieces of You - Final Chapter

Extras:

Professor Grant 's Kinks - HC - Jake Lockley's Kinks

ABD Boys Headcanons

[uselesssomebody]

Oxford Comma Series Masterlist (18+)

The Rydal Keener 90-00s Harvard AU nobody asked for

Moodboard

Playlist

Oxford Comma — the original fic

Hampton living — short, banter

Make it up to me — short, bratty

Princess treatment — short, banter

He can sing — HC, request

You’re pregnant — a short ‘what if?’

So you wore a skirt — a Drabble upon a Drabble

Boyfriend, girlfriend — sick fic

Arty boy — his love language

Random HC — request

The Chester problem — 2k bloody business

Until we bleed — 6k insecurities

The adults are talking — short Pwfeelings

Sativa — 2k drugs and smut

Body talk — short smut

[uselesssomebody]

Author's Moodboard - AO3 Link

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 (Coming Soon)

Part 6 (Coming Soon)

Part 7 (Coming Soon)

Part 8 (Coming Soon)

Fan Art:

Steven Grant Yandere by @lunar-ghoulie4art / @lunar-ghoulie

(Warnings and Summary below the cut - Please Read)

Summary:

Marc Spector always knew he wasn't right in the head. Jake and Steven were a perfect example of that. He'd managed to figure that part of his life out though, learning how to live with his alters in a way that left everyone happy, including Khonshu.

That all changed when Steven spotted you during a tour at the museum. There was no explanation for the way his heart stopped in his chest, or the way he knew he had to have you, but they all felt it, and it left their minds fractured beyond repair.

Disclaimer:

I created this fic for the sole purpose of exploring the yandere thing as a fanfiction "kink" in a safe way and in a safe space. I in no way would want this to happen to myself or someone else. This fic is not a reflection of my moral beliefs. - Further, this fic is not an accurate representation of people with DID (dissociative identity disorder). These men happen to have DID and I'm putting them in a situation where they would have an unhealthy obsession with the reader character.

Tags/Warnings:

NSFW, Stalking, non-con, somnophilia, rape, mentions of murder, drugged sex, kidnapping, manipulation, dacryphilia, voyeurism, threats of physical harm, copious amounts of sex, copious amounts of unprotected sex, blood, unrealistic refractory period, biting, slapping, hitting. This is a Dead Dove Do Not Eat situation.

[uselesssomebody]

Making Trouble

For the girlies on the Marc’s Girls discord, and specifically to whichever one of you requested this:

Possessive marc who decides to fuck reader in Jakes car to further piss of jake, praise kink, (maybe a little mirror action to make sure jake sees)

About this: Marc finally finds where Jake stashes his car when he isn’t fronting. Marc/fem!reader

—-----

“You can open your eyes now.” 

Nearly breathless from the suspense, you finally open your eyes to see—a parking garage. You blink, taking in its tall, squat appearance, the teenager manning the little booth to let people in and out, her face in her phone. When Marc had said he had a surprise for you during your day out together, you had spent plenty of time considering what it might be. Knowing Marc, it was either painfully thoughtful or way too on-the-nose. 

“Is it the parking garage, or is it in the parking garage,” you deadpan. 

“I bought you a parking garage,” Marc deadpans back, obviously unimpressed with your deductive skills. 

Mouth twitching, you ask: “You…bought a car?” 

“Better,” says Marc with a grin. “I found a car.”

On the fourth level, you stand shivering amongst the dreary concrete scenery, mouth agape. 

Marc holds up a key fob. The expression on his face is distinctly wicked, eyes dark and narrowed, mouth tilted in a smirk which makes him look years younger. He jingles the keys before pressing on the automatic lock. Within the car, you hear the soft sound of the doors unlocking. The taillights come to life, flashing an ominous red: warning, warning, do not fucking touch. 

“We can’t,” you gasp, even as if you watch Marc open the driver’s door. Out comes a hint of Jake’s scent: leather, tobacco, cologne. How Marc and his alters can even smell different, you could never understand. 

Marc is already stepping into the car. He turns to look at your gasped warning, but there is no fear nor trepidation on his face. He just raises a brow and says, “Seems easy enough to me.” 

He ducks his head and disappears into the driver’s seat. You glance around, conscience guilty. It’s not like there is anyone who would dispute your right to be in the car; the thing is in Marc’s goddamn name! But you can’t help but feel eyes on you, like Jake knows what you are doing. For months he had stringently refused to reveal where he stored the flashy ride, despite your best attempts—and Marc’s, and even Steven’s who couldn’t resist a good mystery. He obviously did not want any of you encroaching on this, on his territory. 

The thought of his punishment has you shivering, and not with fear. 

You swiftly move to the passenger side, open the door, and duck inside. It is like another world within: all dark leather, cool against your overheated skin. The tinted windows make it dim, even with the soft glow of the overhead light (which disappears once you shut the door). You sit in the seat beside Marc, breathing in the experience. Jake never lets anyone in his car—that he doesn’t plan to kill. The adrenalin has your heart racing. You turn to look at Marc in the driver’s seat with a wide, giddy grin. 

“So where should we go? I feel like fucking Ferris Bueler.” 

Marc snorts softly. He reaches down between the seat and the door—and he pushes his seat back as far as it will go, creating copious space between himself and the steering wheel. It doesn’t look like a very comfortable way to drive. All at once, you realize that Marc isn’t intending to drive. He has not even put the keys in the ignition. 

“Marc,” you say, low and warning and scared and excited all at once.

“Come here,” says Marc, just as lowly. He pats one jean-clad thigh. “Come sit on my lap.” 

It isn’t a question. But for the first time you are caught between the authority Marc has over you and the authority Jake has over everyone. The rules are simple: do not touch his car. Do not look at his car. Do not think about his car. Definitely do not go looking for the parking garage which houses his car. And if you should find it? Definitely don’t fuck in it. 

“What if he gets mad?” you ask, running your fingers over the natural creases of the leather seats. 

“Leave him to me. Come sit on my lap.” 

You climb across the center console and into his lap. Your skirt rides up your thighs. Marc leans back in his seat looking like a god, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, one hand braced behind his head like he is relaxing and nothing more. The bulge you can already feel in his jeans says that as relaxed as he appears, at least one part of him is as eager as you are. 

“Undress.” 

You gasp, like this is unexpected. Like you expected him to ask you to sit in his lap and then the two of you would talk about the weather. Even though the window tints are thick—standing outside the car, you cannot even see the swirl of shadows behind the glass—your eyes are drawn towards the windows around you. Can you undress here? You would feel so exposed…but the way Marc is looking at you is exposing as well. Like he sees your thoughts and is watching them bounce between arousal and terror in the ping-pong match of the century. Like he sees your thoughts and enjoys them. 

He says nothing, just sits patiently, chest rising and falling softly with his each breath. 

Yeah, alright. You pull your shirt over your head, reaching back to unclasp your bra. Marc takes each article of clothing and tosses it into the backseat. There isn’t enough space to comfortably slide down your panties while on his lap, so he perches you on the center console and works the lace down your legs, testing the texture between his fingers.

He opens up the dash console and puts your panties inside.

“Marc,” you whine. “Come on, you’re going to get me in even more trouble.” 

“You’re trouble,” Marc says, lifting you with ease to set you back in his lap. The denim of his jeans is rough against your bare thighs. He is so thick that you’re spread uncomfortably wide, and your cunt—hungry, leaking—can’t even grind against the bulge in his jeans. Once you’re seated, Marc palms your ass in his broad hands, spreading you apart, eyes glued to the sticky place between your legs. “How else am I going to remind Jake that you belong to me, huh?” 

Marc’s possessiveness makes you shiver. Maybe it’s some unevolved part of your hindbrain that craves such a thing, something that makes you want to rub yourself all over him until his scent is your scent and no one can refute it. Whatever it may be that makes your heart pound and pussy clench tight when Marc makes such comments, it must also be the same thing that makes you want more. 

“I belong to him too, you know,” you tease. “And Steven.” 

“Steven knows his place,” Marc says darkly. He reaches up and threads his fingers through your hair at the back of your skull, clutches tight and close to the scalp so that he has utter control as he tugs you forward and down until you are nearly nose to nose with him. “Jake sometimes needs a reminder that you are mine, first and foremost. Maybe you need that reminder too.” 

You go to shake your head, but Marc holds it firmly in place by your hair. He tightens his grip (though not to the point of pain) and makes you nod in affirmation.

“Yes?” he asks, with mock surprise. “Yes, you need reminding? You need a lesson?” 

“Marc,” you breathe. There is nothing else to the sentence. There is nothing else in your brain, just Marc. 

“I’ve got you,” he coos. He pulls you in for a kiss, searing and consuming and all too short. Your mouth tingles after he pulls you away, lips quirking at the way you strain against his hold, eager to kiss him again. But he just says: “Take my cock out.” 

Your fingers scramble for the button against the denim. Perhaps if you weren’t tingling all over, it would be easier to unfasten them—but then you get distracted by Marc, Marc who is reaching up to the rearview mirror and adjusting it. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” says Marc. The grin he gives into the mirror is like a shark’s. Toothy, mean, hungry. 

You try not to. You focus on his cock which you are finally able to work free from the denim. He is achingly hard, a familiar velvety rod of steel in your palm. So much changes about your three lovers when they are fronting: accents, expressions, mannerisms…but this is one thing that never changes. You adjust your grip, let your thumb trace over the crown of his cock. When you stroke over the slit, your thumb comes away wet with his precum. 

Marc uses his grip on your hair to gently turn your face downward until you are staring at him: ruddy, deliciously thick, a length that already has your legs shaking just at the memory of the places it can stroke inside you. At the tip beads more precum, and you watch, mesmerized, as you spread it across the sensitive head turning it shiny pink and eager. 

“See my cock?” 

“Yes,” you laugh.

“Then why aren’t you sitting on it?”

A good question. You shift upwards. Marc helps, hands braced against your waist as he lifts and twists and turns you to his liking. By the time the thick head of his cock nudges at your entrance, he has turned you around until you face away from him, your palms on the dashboard, the steering wheel nearly brushing your breasts. 

Marc slips inside you. It’s always a tight stretch, no matter how wet you are for him. You whine, rocking forward and backward as your cunt spasms, eager for him and fighting his intrusion all at once. His hands are burning hot on your hips, your ass, your waist as he rubs at the skin firmly, murmuring soft encouragement beneath his breath. At last you relax enough to take the last few inches of him, and when the head kisses your cervix, it feels like it pushes the breath from your lungs. 

“Marc,” you groan. 

His hands, tan and strong suddenly reach for your own where you have braced them on the dashboard. He interlaces your fingers and then pulls back—he makes you put your hands on the wheel. You know why straightaway; because beneath your grip you feel the grooves worn into the steering wheel from Jake’s touch. You shutter all over, cunt squeezing Marc’s cock. 

“Hold on,” Marc says. You tighten your grip.  

Then Marc takes your hips in his hands and begins to fuck you on his cock. That’s the only way to describe it. His strength makes it easy for him to bounce your body the way he likes, as fast or as slow as he likes, as deep or as shallow as he likes. And you know that’s what he’s doing. You can tell that he’s taking you like this for his own pleasure, and the thought drives you fucking wild. 

You turn your head, searching for his mouth to kiss—

—but Marc is too busy staring into the rearview mirror. 

“Is he—?”

“Watching?” Marc pants. “Yes.”

“What’s he—?”

“Saying?” Marc laughs. “Cursing me. Threatening me. Telling me all the filthy things he’s going to do to you to punish you, to try and reestablish his claim.”

Marc’s teeth bury themselves into the junction between your shoulder and your neck, making you cry out and tighten around him. His tongue soothes the sting of the bite. The message is clear: stop asking questions about Jake. Right now there is only Marc. A few pointed, bruising thrusts push the remainder of your thoughts from your brain. You arch your back to soften the intensity, to let his cock stroke against that spot inside you that makes your legs shake. 

Behind you, words begin to pour from Marc’s mouth, dark and sinful: 

“Pussy this sweet, I can’t blame him,” Marc says through his teeth. He slows his thrusts, slows the speed with which he bounces you on his cock though the force remains the same. “The sweetest little toy for me to fuck. But this pussy belongs to me. I am the one who broke it in. Remember the first time I fucked you? You shook like a leaf in the wind just at the sight of me. ‘Will it fit?’”

Your face goes hot at the mocking way he pitches his voice. You didn’t sound like that…

“I made it fit, didn’t I baby? Didn’t I split you open? You cried like I was killing you—except you were begging me not to stop, so tight, like I had to push your guts aside just to get balls deep. I broke you in, baby. Steven and Jake just help me keep you loose, don’t they?”

Marc’s cock seems to do more than rearrange your guts. It scrambles your fucking brain. All that comes out of your mouth are broken gasps of his name, half formed pleas—and when you take a hand off the wheel to touch your clit, a warning. You’re about to cum.

Except Marc lets go of your hips to grip your arms just below the elbows. He tugs your hand away from between your thighs and twists both arms behind your back with practiced ferocity, no rougher than he needs to be as he makes your arms fold and hooks his arm through them, binding you. His hand against your upper back pushes you forward, forward until your chest meets the steering wheel, breasts against the cool material.

“You’ll cum on my cock or you won’t cum at all,” Marc warns you darkly, digging his heels into the floor so he can snap his hips up into the cradle of your thighs. He thrusts with such force that he balls tap your clit with each one, the light rhythmic pressure nothing compared to the firm rub of your fingertips, but still pushing you higher…higher…can you cum like this? With just the barest touch? 

“I’m getting close,” Marc warns cruelly. 

You try to say something back, some garbled plea, but it is inarticulate. Marc speaks the language, though; knows what your frantic little sounds and whines mean, well-versed in this tongue. He uses his free hand to grip one ass cheek, spreading you until he can see the stretched entrance of your pussy thanks to the arch of your back. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “That’s it, cum for me. Come on. And look in the mirror while you do it. Show me those pretty eyes.”

But when you glance up to the mirror, the dark eyes that look at you—pierce into you, flaying you open and laying you bare—do not remind you of Marc. They remind you of the real person Marc wants you to make eye contact with. The one who is watching. 

It’s a good thing you can’t string syllables together, otherwise you might have shouted Jake’s name (and wasn’t that a lesson that Marc had already taught you!). Your cunt clenches down like a vice, back arching like a cat as the sensation explodes inside you, slick dripping down your thighs onto Jake’s leather seats. Your shouts and yaps and whimpers have nowhere to echo within the enclosed space, forcing you to listen to your own pleasure in high quality. 

Marc groans in satisfaction, slowing his thrusts to languish in the spasms of your pussy. 

“Good girl, that’s a good-fucking-girl!” Marc says, voice a little too awed and overjoyed to appropriately coo the cruel way he often does. He pulls you up from the steering wheel and makes you lay back against his chest. 

“Marc, too deep,” you hiss, shifting in anxiety at the hard thrusts which must be coming. 

He just hushes you, rocking his hips more than thrusting, one hand cupping your breast while the other finds your aching clit and begins teasing it, stroking your sex deeply. 

Your breath catches—as if you had ever managed to catch it in the first place. Already you feel that fire within your belly swelling, Marc’s fingers and the way his cock splits you wide acting like a lit match on dry kindling. His fingers make slick sounds, so loud in the enclosed space that you would be embarrassed if there were room for it inside you. But Marc’s cock must push that out of you, too: your shame, your brain.

“Come on, baby,” Marc whispers tenderly, his other hand teasing your nipple as he rocks into you gently. “Come on, give me another. Milk my cock.”

You do. You’d do anything that Marc told you to, but it’s impossible to even consider disobeying when his fingers stroke through your folds, when you feel his cock twitch where it’s buried practically in your guts. One of your hands scrabbles at the seat, scratching the leather. The other reaches up to bury itself in Marc’s hair, mussing the slicked back curls. His breath stops, head falling back against the headrest as his cock jerks and fills you with his warm seed. The sounds of his thrusts into you grow slicker, even wetter with both of your spend. His cum seeps out around his cock with each thrust in, smearing both of your thighs. 

At last he wraps an arm around your waist and pins you to him, his cock still buried within you. His heavy pants brush your neck as he catches his breath, and your fierce grip on his hair instinctually turns into a soft pet. You definitely muss the curls a little more than necessary; you can’t help how much you like them. 

“He’s going to be so pissed, Marc,” you breathe. But there is laughter in your voice. 

Marc snorts softly. He reaches up and pinches one of your nipples softly. “Yeah. He’ll live.” 

He helps you dress, cleans your thighs and his own with a pack of tissues that he finds in the glovebox. You sit in the passenger seat, eyes on him. It is strange seeing him behind the wheel of Jake’s car. 

“Ready?” Marc asks at last, glancing to you. It’s only then that he notices how much you’ve been watching him, and the fact that he can look flustered after everything he’s done and said to you today is a true feat. 

“Ready.” 

You face goes hot again as you step out of the car, even though there is no one around to see you. Orienting yourself, you spot the lift and begin towards it, a spring in your step. If you plan to make it home before Marc’s cum leaks out of you, you’ll have to be hasty. The last thing you want to do is ride the tube with cum dripping down your legs. 

Marc lingers. He glances back into the car, eyes searching for anything the two of you might have left behind. Besides the panties in the glovebox—let Jake find those. When there is nothing, he shuts the door softly and locks it with the fob. Fucking you in Jake’s car is one thing; leaving it vulnerable to any proper London thief is another. He wants to piss Jake off, but he would never wish to hurt him. 

There is a smudge on the window. Marc wipes it away with his jacketed elbow. 

“Go easy on her, hermano,” Marc teases his reflection. The one that is glaring back at him. 

“Marc,” you call, squinting back towards him from your spot by the lift. Your voice echoes off of the concrete. “Are you coming?” 

“Didn’t I already?” Marc asks the window. He snorts at his own joke, tapping the nose of his reflection before turning and sauntering away.

[uselesssomebody]

Hustle || Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller is a great pool player but he's got a weakness, he's a man. Which makes him the perfect target. But lets just say Joel doesn't take kindly to being hustled.

Warnings: NSFW, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, rough sex, bathroom bar sex, fingering, spanking, dirty talk, Joel is a little mean, degradation, mirror sex, light choking, brat taming, creampie, unprotected sex but readers on the pill.

A/n: I finally got actual motivation to write Joel smut so i hope u enjoy <33 Reader is a pool shark and idk why but the idea of joel playing pool is so hot.

Joel Miller doesn't lose. Especially at pool. His dad taught him at an early age how to play and he would spend hours playing against Tommy in the garage. Once Tommy got sick of losing he ended up playing with friends.

Making a few bets and cleaned them out and continued in college. He doesn't play as much anymore but the skills never went away. He's confident, maybe a little cocky but he's got history to back it up. So when he has a pretty girl batting her eyes and asking him shyly for help, well he couldn't say no now could he.

You spotted him the moment you walked into the bar. He stood with confidence, drinking straight whiskey and barely saying a word as he played. You watched him for a while. He was good, but you're better. You watched as he sunk the 8 ball and smirked as his opponent handed him a fifty. Guys like him were the perfect target.

Put on a cute face, pretend to be bad and in desperate need of a mans help, then milk him for all he's got in his wallet. Flirting with him will be easy, he was undeniably sexy. The way his arms bulged out of his shirt, and that scruff, and fuck those hands.

You walk over to his now empty table, pulling down your dress a little lower and putting on your best innocent look. He watches as you walk over to him, a pretty thing looking out of place in this shitty bar like this.

"You're really good," You rest your hand on his arm and smile.

"Do you think you could show me how to play? I've always wanted to learn." Joel's eyes wander down and he smirks. You've got him hooked.

"Course I can sugar. Name's Joel." Joel downs his drink and gestures for you to play.

You put on a fake frown and bend over the table right next to Joel. Holding the cue stick wrong and aiming to the wrong spot you pull it back and miss wildly. Huffing you turn back to Joel who was shamelessly staring at your ass.

"See." Joel chuckles and walks over to you.

"Gotta hold it like this." You bend over and shake your ass a little to "reposition" as Joel grabs your hips.

"That's good, now hold it like this." He leans over you, wrapping his arms around you to help your grip. You pull back the stick and hit the ball.

"I did it!" You cheer. You lean back against him. You bite your lip when you feel his hard cock rubbing against your ass. His arms rub up and down yours.

"Good girl." Joel isn't like the other guys you've met before. His touch doesn't make you want to vomit, he's hot, and you have to admit that the flirting isn't all fake. After a few more shots and asking him to explain the rules, you offer to play a game.

"You sure?" Joel asks.

"Please? I think I'm really getting the hang of it. We can even put money on it, say 15 bucks?" Joel feels bad knowing it's not going to end well for you but he can't say no when you're pleading so sweet.

"Alright then, ladies first." You lean over the table and take your shot. As he expected Joel won pretty handily. He laughs as you pout and hand over the money.

"You did good honey,"

"How about another one?" You ask and he shakes his head.

"Just one more, we can up the stakes too." You place your hand on his chest.

"Say a hundred?"

"That's quite a jump." He crosses his arms and your eyes flick down to his forearms for just a moment.

"You scared Joel?" You ask teasingly.

"Alright honey, if that's what you want." He leans closer to you, pushing you gently against the table and tilts your chin to meet his eyes.

"You can go first." Joel smirks and takes his shot.

The balls scatter across the table. He gestures for you to go and you smile at him sweetly. Leaning over the table you sink a ball into a pocket with expert aim.

"Lucky shot I guess."

As the game goes on Joel's smile disappears. You are much better than you let on and as you sink yet another ball, he realizes he's getting played. You drop the innocent act when Joel manages to sink two balls in a row.

"Nice shot." He's face remains stoic as you play, his gaze makes you shiver. Soon it's down to the 8 ball for you. You call the back right pocket and take your shot. When it rolls in and falls into the hole you stand up and smile.

"Good game Joel," Joel stays quiet.

He's been hustled. He fell for your sweet talking and innocent act and now he's out 100 dollars. To be honest he's impressed. You got skill for sure. But Joel doesn't like being hustled. To him, you need to be taught a little respect.

At first you're nervous he's angry, some guys do not react well to losing. But then he smirks. He takes out his wallet and hands you a hundred.

"Good game sweetheart I'm impressed. Now tell me," He walks closer to you, leaning over until his lips are right next to your ear.

"You always been such a slut?" You know you should be offended but the way he whispers in your ear, it makes your thighs clench together.

"I'm not a slut, you're just a loser." You bite back. He chuckles and places his hand on your back.

"No? Tellin' me you don't go to bars, dressing like a slut and flirting with any man who'll give you the time of day?" You rest your hands on his chest and run them up and down. His chest is firm but he's got a tummy, fuck you wonder what he looks like without his shirt.

"Sounds to me like you're ego is a little bruised, I'm not surprised. Guys like you have such a big ego and..." Your eyes flick down to his crotch for a moment before looking back to him. "So little to back it up." You fake pout and run your finger down your face to mimic a tear.

"Oh honey, I'm not little." He growls. How bout we play another, double or nothing." You smirk and push him away gently. He walks back and notices the glint of lust in your eyes.

"Bring it."

Now the two of you were really playing, both of you focused on beating the other. It felt intense, especially when Joel insisted on staring you down as you took your shots. He's proving to be the most interesting man you've ever played. You watch his hands as they wrap around the cue stick. His fingers are so big. His muscles bulge in his shirt as he lines up his shot and he doesn't realize it but when he licks his lips as he thinks is so fucking hot.

Still, you're determined to win. The game goes on until its down to just the 8 ball for the both of you. You call the center pocket and take your shot. You silently curse as you hit the cue ball in the wrong spot. You watch as the 8 ball misses and you curse. The cue ball rolls and rolls and you watch it fall into the center pocket. With a groan you realize that Joel has won over a stupid mistake. You pull out the money and hold it out for him to take. He pushes your hand away and presses your hips against the table.

"Don't care about the money, I have something much more interesting in mind." His hands grab your waist and pull you into him. You whimper as he grinds his hips slowly against you. He really isn't little.

"You can walk out that door right now, keep the money I don't give a shit. Or you can get taught some fucking respect." He's giving you an out. He watches your face for any signs of uncertainty but you show none. You stuff the money in your bra and smile.

"I think you're all talk." You pull on his shirt until your faces are centimeters away.

Your lips ghost his jaw, nipping lightly as he closes his eyes and groans. He grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the table and to the dark dingy bathrooms. He opens it and shoves you in. Locking it behind him.

"Last change honey," You bunch up your dress and pull down your panties, kicking them over to Joel who catches them. A dark look in his eyes.

"Turn around and bend over the sink, now." He commands. You do as he says but not without a little teasing. Shaking your ass at him. He stuffs your panties in his pocket and stalks over to you.

"Brats like you need to be taught a lesson." He pushes up your dress and grabs your ass.

"So you're an ass-" Your snarky comment is cut off by a sharp slap to your ass. You squeak as Joel spanks you. He sees your shocked look in the mirror and laughs.

"No ones ever put you in your place before have they?" You moan when he slaps your ass again, and again, and again. It hurts so fucking good. He doesn't hold back and you love every second of it. He shoves his fingers in between your legs, groaning at how wet you've become.

"Not a slut my ass." He mumbles as he slides two fingers deep inside of you. You whine as he fucks his fingers roughly, curling them so they hit the right spot.

"You like getting put in your place huh? Your greedy pussy is just sucking them right in."

"Oh fuck Joel, feels so good." You arch your back in pleasure, purring in delight at his dirty words.

"Say it," He grabs your throat and pulls you against his chest. Just enough pressure to make your head feel fuzzy.

"I-fuck, I'm a slut." He grins and presses his lips to your shoulder, your dress strap is sliding off your shoulder and Joel kisses where it was.

"So fucking hot," He groans. His fingers are unrelenting, you cry out as his thumb brushes your clit. The combination of his fingers and his thumb are too much for you to handle. He refuses to let up. Taking pleasure in every little sound that comes out of your mouth. The wild look in your eyes as he brings you to the edge.

"Be a good girl for once in your fuckin' life." If it wasn't for his grip on you, you'd be melting into a puddle right before him. Your legs shake violently as you come hard on his fingers. Your cunt clenches around them as Joel continues to fuck you.

"That's it," He gently lets go of your throat and you collapse onto the counter. Pleasure lingers as you catch your breath, your chest heaving up and down. You hear the sounds of a belt buckle and you see Joel drop his pants. He's stroking his cock slowly.

"I'm on the pill." You blurt out. Joel looks surprised but happy. Getting to fuck you raw is a dream come true.

"Keep your eyes on the mirror." You nod your head and turn your head back to the mirror. He pushes his cock through your thighs, getting it wet before he notches it at your cunt.

"Breathe honey," Your mouth hangs open as he slides in slowly.

"So tight." He huffs. He's so fucking big, it's like his splitting you open. He doesn't stop, he just keeps on going and going and it's taking your breath away.

"Feel good?" Joel taunts. He waits for a response but you're too focused on his cock inside of you to even hear what he said. Joel leans over you, pressing his chest into your back and wrapping his hand around your throat.

"Is a fat cock all it takes to shut you up?" He taps your cheek gently.

"Shut up and fuck me." You murmur.

"As you wish honey." He pulls back before slamming in.

He holds you in place as he plows into you. His cock etching its place in your cunt, claiming you as his with every thrust. You stare lazily into the mirror, you body still hasn't recovered from earlier and Joel isn't giving you any mercy. His brows are furrowed in an intense concentration as he pounds into you, using you like a toy.

"You're suckin' me in sweetheart, tell me do you like getting used like this?" Joel teases.

"I think you do, I think you fuck around with guys and hope one of them will finally put you in your place." He bucks his hips particularly hard which makes you groan.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Stick a cock in you whenever you want." He lets go of you and stands up, pushing your shoulders into the counter as his thrusts become sloppier. He begins to lose focus, you just feels so good, so wet, so tight. Just begging to be filled up with his cum.

"Can I come in you, please-fuck." Joel begs. The thought of you dripping with his cum is too much for him to take.

"Yes! Please fuck I want it so bad." You wail as he grabs your hips and pulls you back onto him, fucking you wildly.

"Yes yes." Joel chants as he slams his cock deep inside of you, spilling into you with a tired sigh. He grabs your waist and helps you turn and sit on the counter so you can catch your breath.

"Fuck." You breathe as you pull your dress down.

"You finally learn some manners." Joel walks in between your legs, rubbing your thighs softly.

"I don't know, might need another lesson."

"I think I can do that, how about this friday." Joel asks.

"Pick me up at 7pm." You tell him. Joel smirks and lightly slaps your thigh.

"Oh and I'll take this back." He reaches into your bra and takes the hundred.

"Can I have those back?" You point to your panties hanging out of his pocket. Joel looks down at them and smirks.

"Lets play for it." Smiling you hop off the counter and head for the door.

"You're on."

[uselesssomebody]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃

summary: while doing a deal with Marc, Joel comes to collect your debt.

pairing: (mob enforcer!Joel Miller x afab!reader) x dealer!Marc Spector.

warnings: 18+ mdni. dub con -> read responsibly. alt universe. soft!dark. no physical descriptors of reader. power imbalance. threats. debt to the mob. weed. no m/m. oral sex (f&m). rough sex. dirty talk. spit roasting. shotgunning. aftercare. w.c. 4.2k

author's note: honestly, this started out as pure filth/pwp, then it turned into so much more. there is potential for multiple parts, mostly revolving around Joel x reader. don't hold me to it, but like i said, this took on a life of its own, and now i'm madly in love with mob enforcer!Joel.

huge thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta-ing and being such a wonderful, supportive friend.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

The carpet in your tiny living room was slowly developing a hole from your pacing back and forth. You love this apartment. Sure, the faucets drip, and the dingy wallpaper started peeling the day you moved in, but it was all yours. 

Since you moved to the big city after leaving home, you took any job you could find. You knew starting out on your own would be tough, but you could grin and bear it. Anything was better than small-town life. You wanted adventure, to see what the world had to offer.

What you didn’t plan on was getting involved with the wrong kind of people. 

When you fell months behind on rent, a co-worker mentioned she knew someone who could help. 

It was too good to be true, you thought, as you slowly walked into a smokey nightclub around midnight. Uptempo Spanish music played in the background as patrons drank at the bar, loudly singing and chattering. You tread deeper into the club, entering a VIP section where multiple gorgeous women sat on the laps of intimidating, finely dressed men in expensive suits. 

Various sets of eyes spot you the moment you cross the threshold, but only one set feels like they’re burning into your soul.

An unnerving man with piercing brown eyes holds your wary gaze. He’s draped in a long, brown leather coat, and streaks of gray pepper his temples. He stands to the side, leaning against the wall, and watches with intrigue as you shift nervously on your feet. 

His arms are crossed. A mustache tops his lips, which are etched in a permanent scowl as if he’s a dog that’s been kicked too many times. Still, he’s among the most handsome men you’ve seen since coming to the city.

He pushed off the wall with his broad shoulders, finally breaking his stare, and leaned down to whisper in the ear of a younger man seated at the head of the table, presumably his boss. 

“You need a little help, Sugar?” the younger man asked. 

His dark hair is a mess of curls, and his cheekbones look like they could cut glass. “I could use some help around the club. There’s always a gentleman in need of some company.” His fingers traced along a woman's nylon thigh as he looked you up and down. His coy lips tugged into a smirk as the group quietly laughed. 

The brown-eyed man's face grimaced at the younger man's tone. You want to curl in on yourself. The smoke in the air makes it hard to breathe. “Uh, no,” you start, tonguing your dry lips. “I just need to borrow some money.” 

The younger man purses his lips and nods. “That can be arranged. Joel here will take care of you.” He motioned to the older man on his right and looked you over with a curious gaze before waving you away.

Joel, the mob boss's right-hand man, meets you in the dingy alley behind the club. Water drips off the corner of the rooftop from the storm that blew through earlier in the day. A gust of cool fall air blows through, and you hug yourself to keep warm.

You learn that Joel was a no-nonsense man, straight to the point. Clear and precise.

He thrusts a heavy bag into your hands, and the leather handle creaks under the weight. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. Orange hues lit his features sinisterly as if he were a demon or creature from hell's depths.

You stood your ground, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing.” 

Joel’s eyes go soft. It’s the first time he looks human since you first saw him. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, shaking his head. He blows a long gust of smoke from his nose. “He expects to be paid, with interest, by the end of the month.”

You teethe your bottom lip with a nod as nauseous worry swarms your belly.  

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he states, thumbing at his lips. “Just so we know you haven’t run off with our money.”

Your eyes widen, and your knees slightly buckle. “No! I don’t plan on taking off. You don’t have to worry about that.” You trip over your words, frantically making sure he knows you won’t rip them off.   

He chuckles at the sight. It’s a deep, dark rumble from years of smoking and drinking, and it makes your cunt throb. “We don’t think you will, but it’s part of the job. Besides, having to keep track of such a pretty face ain’t so bad.” he muses, a light smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

An anxious, breathy laugh puffs from your chest. You hesitantly wring the leather handle as your eyes fall to the wet pavement.

A horn blares in the distance. Angry drivers yell into the night, breaking the perilous spell between you and the enforcer. 

“If you ever need help with anythin', let me know, okay?” he offers before turning on his heel and returning to the club.

“How will I contact you? With a bat signal or something?” You asked quizzically.

He chuckled again, and it set your heart on fire. “Just call the club and ask for me, sweetheart.”

You were truly and utterly fucked. 

It was the end of the month. Joel would arrive at 5pm to collect, and you had $50 measly dollars left in your bank account.

You’d squared up with your landlord and then some, paying for a few months in advance to show how grateful you were that he didn’t kick you out on the streets. What you didn’t plan on was getting fired from your job. You desperately tried to find another one, but you knew it was pointless as the end of the month slowly crept.

A knock on the door jars you from your thoughts. You scramble to open it, thankful your dealer was around today. You badly needed a smoke to curb your anxiety and impending doom.

Marc stands on your doorstep, beaming with his classic lopsided smile. “How’s it going?” He asks, making the short trip over to your couch, unbuttoning his long, black, and gray tweed coat before plopping down with a sigh. 

“Uh, fine,” you reply quickly. “You know. Same old.” 

“Same shit, different day, as I like to say.”  He scratches his trimmed beard with a coy grin. He looks really good today. Dark gray hair gelled and tousled. 

Nerves tug at your belly. You can taste the bitter doubt in the back of your throat.

Marc was a decent dealer. He let you start a tab when funds were low and gave you extra lighters and papers when needed. You knew to avoid crossing him, so what you had to do was extra tricky.

You sit on the floor across from him as he chucks a bag filled with joints onto the coffee table. Your body itches to feel the smoke burn your lungs.   

“Wanna hang for a bit? Smoke with me?” you offer, already reaching for the joint with a timid smile.

Marc quirks a brow. He digs his phone out of his tweed jacket and checks the time. “Uh, yeah, sure. I can hang for a bit.”

You try to light the joint, but the lighter won’t spark.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Marc asks, taking the lighter from your shaky hands. 

You silently nod and press the joint between your lips. Just as he lights the spliff, a knock sounds on your door.

You curse under your breath and hand the unlit joint to Marc. “Sorry. I’ll give whoever that is the boot.” He nods and sparks the joint, taking a long drag as you cross the distance to the door.

You yank open the door without thinking. “I don’t want anything you’re selli-”

“Hey there, Sweetheart,” a familiar, deep voice drawls.

You stand like a deer in headlights before the intimidating mob enforcer. 

He wasn’t supposed to be here so early. That’s the last time you open your door without checking the peephole.

“What’re you doing here, Joel?” you inquire, leaning in close so Marc doesn’t hear. "I have until tonight to give you the money."

The older man's leather jacket is pulled tight around his rugged shoulders as he leans in your doorway. His salt and pepper curls look damp as if you were his first stop after he got out of the shower.

“The boss has plans later and wants to ensure you're paid up.”

You wanted to scream. 

“This isn’t fair.” Your fists clench at your sides.

“That’s life, Sweetheart’.” Joel shrugs. “So, where’s the money?"

It takes every ounce of courage you have to stand your ground. 

“No. The boss said I had until 5pm, so I won’t give you anything until then. Now kindly, leave.”

You slam the door, but not quickly enough. A worn boot slides between the frame and the door, halting your escape.

“God dammit,” Joel fumes, shoving the door open, sending you flying back into your living room.

You catch yourself before you fall and watch as the enforcer makes his way into your sacred space. Now you know what it feels like to be on his wrong side. He kicks the door shut with his foot, ready to pounce, but freezes when he sees Marc.

“Miller.” Marc acknowledges from his laid-back position on the couch, joint pinched between his fingers.

Joel’s jaw twitches. “Spector.”

“So, what’s going on here?” Marc asks, gesturing with a curious wave. He then blows a lungful of smoke into the room and flicks bits of burning embers into an ashtray.

“None of your business,” Joel grits before focusing his attention back on you.

You do your best not to cower in front of the large man as he stalks closer. “You don’t want to make the boss angry.” He says, in an eerily calm voice, one that makes your hair stand on end. “Where’s the money?”

“I don’t have it.” You admit, barely louder than a whisper.

His jaw clenches hard. He shakes his head in disbelief, hands perched on his hips. His eyes grow scarily dark. "That’s not what I want to hear.”

“I don’t know what to say. I have a few dollars left in my account,” Your voice wavers.

Joel drags a heavy palm over his face and sighs. “What were you thinking? How were you going to pay him?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to your dealer.

“I, uh, I had a plan.” Your fingers wring at the seam of your shirt, and nausea swarms your belly.

Marc stands and finally joins the conversation. “Yeah, I’d like to know how you intended to pay me.”

You shift on your feet, eyes darting between the two more prominent and influential men. 

“I was going to offer to blow you.” The words tumble out so quickly that you wonder if they even heard you.

You wish the floor would open up and suck you in. It was bad enough that you had to resort to blowing your dealer, but now Joel was here to witness everything and most likely drag you to a certain death.

“For fucks sake,” the older man groans. 

Marc’s brow shoots into his hairline. He whistles as his eyes drag down your body. “You sure got yourself into a real jam here, huh?” He licks his bottom lip and steps closer. “I think something could be arranged, at least on my end. What about you?” He claps a hand on Joel's back, barely moving the powerhouse of a man. He was an enforcer, after all. This job wasn’t just for anyone. 

Joel shakes his head in dismay. His leather jacket creaks as he moves, lightning fast, quickly pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Sweetheart.” He informs, “Since I’ve taken a likin’ to you, I’d hate to see you get hurt. I’ll pay off your debt.”

The heavy weight you’d dragged around for the last week falls from your shoulders. You didn’t realize you’d stop breathing until the sweet air rushed into your lungs.  

 “But,” he continues, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip, “you’re going to pay me back in kind.”

The heaviness returns, except now you’re afraid the extreme weight will crush you.

Joel notices your racing thoughts. “Shh. No need to think,” he murmurs, letting his hand fall to your hip and making himself comfortable. “Just be grateful you’ve got to deal with only me and Spector.” 

His eyes are solemn and tender, lost in his thoughts; his gaze travels across your face. You raise a cautious hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under the smooth leather. That magnetic pull you felt the first time you met him pulsed through your veins again, and you think he felt it, too. 

Then, his features twisted with remorse. "This wasn't what I had in mind, but you've left me no choice, Sweetheart."

In a flash, Joel drags you across the worn floorboards and carelessly tosses you over the back of your couch. The air knocks from your lungs. Your ribs flash bright with pain. He moves too fast for you to protest and tugs your leggings off, throwing them across the small room. 

“Best get to work, Spector, if you plan on getting your end of the deal,” Joel threatens the dealer as he crouches down, giving himself a front-row view of your exposed cunt. 

“Let’s get a look at the goods.” His large, warm hands roughly spread your cheeks apart. “Fuck me. That’s a sweet looking pussy.” He drags a thumb up the slice of you, making your spine bow as your hands press into the cushions. “Already wet, too. My kinda girl.”

Unconsciously, you strike an elbow back, but an imposing figure grabs your flailing limb, halting your retaliation.

You forgot about the other man in the room. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ever wonder how you’d look with my cock in your mouth,” Marc admits while fisting his length out. 

He’s half-hard and already intimidating. You stare up at him incredulously while he grasps his veiny girth and traces your tightly closed mouth with the weeping, dusky pink tip. He smears his pre-cum on your skin, marking you before he begins his corruption.

Joel smacks your ass hard, making you yelp and shoving you onto the dealer’s awaiting cock. You instantly gag as Marc's hips pitch forward once he feels your warm, wet mouth. He curses under his breath, cages your head between his hands, and begins sawing his cock back and forth over your tongue. 

His brute thrusts make you gag and spring tears to your eyes. “Come on now. Why the waterworks? This was your plan, after all,” Marc teases, patting your damp cheek.  

Without warning, Joel’s tongue dives into your heat. A blazing heat erupts in your belly as he licks from end to end, wild and ferocious, not stopping until he tastes every inch of you. 

You instinctively moan from the blissful arousal that begins to pulse from his treatment. He laves at your taint and tickles your untouched rosebud for a beat forcing your mind to somersault before traveling south to circle his tongue around your clit. 

“Could eat this cunt all damn day,” he slurs against your throbbing core like he's drunk off you. “God damn, s’fuckin’ delicious.”

Joel sucks the tiny button into his mouth, earning a whole body shiver as you writhe against the couch. He rubs his nose against your soaked folds, making sure to take deep breaths while he eats you alive. 

Marc leans to his left while he works his cock ruthlessly down your throat, making you sputter as the bulbous head prods your tonsils.

You hear a click. The sound of paper igniting and then a long, deep breath.

Marc leers down at you while holding the smoke in his lungs. He curls a hand around the back of your head and presses until the auburn wiry strands littering his girthy base tickle your nose. Then, he exhales, blowing a long, winding breath like a dragon down into your face. 

Your vision blurs from the vapor. The trapped oxygen burns your lungs, and your body quivers from your helpless position while you gag sickly around his cock. Joel winds his arms under your belly, keeping you steady as you thrash anxiously. 

When Marc finally lets you free, you sputter and suck down as much air as you can. A glossy strand of drool connects your lips to his throbbing cock. You sniff and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as his fat length bounces in your view. “You look fuckin’ wasted, Kitten.” He quips with a languid laugh and takes another hit. 

Joel stands behind you, knees cracking as he towers over your vulnerable body. You warily look over your shoulder when he grinds his against the soft skin of your ass.

You’re caught in his wretched stare like a deer in headlights. “Best hope this pussy fucks as good as it tastes,” he threatens, tapping his bulbous, weeping crown on your sticky folds.

Joel gives no warning before he steadily pushes his obscene length into your heat. Your jaw drops with a raspy wail, allowing Marc to fill your mouth again and mute your frantic moans. You feel every vein and girthy inch of Joel’s cock splitting you open, as well as Marc's, as he glides his thickness over your tongue.

It seems to go on forever until they bottom out harmoniously. Joel presses his hips against your ass, and his plush lips pull into a sneer as your core stretches to accommodate him. “Oh, Sweetheart. This cunt is practically chokin’ me.” He provokes with a ragged groan, rubbing his thumb along the glistening, excessively stretched skin that embraces his cock.

A high-pitched whine slithers from your throat before it’s quickly cut off by Marc snapping his pelvis. Joel licks his creamy thumb with a dark chuckle before caging your hips in his steely grasp. He sets a steady rhythm, entirely withdrawing before shoving his cock back in, giving you no reprieve as Marc continuously thrusts his dripping length between your spit-coated lips. 

Your body burns. Your mind is warped. Joel's cock keeps brushing against that spongy spot behind your clit. It's all too much. You feel yourself losing strength, giving in. Either from lack of oxygen to your brain or your greedy cunt that's feeding off their wretched pleasure. 

"You gonna come, Sweetheart? Can feel her milkin' me real good. Shit-" Joel hisses as your velvet walls squeeze him tight.

Both your holes lock around their cocks as you come. Your eyes roll back, your spine bending like a bow as the harsh wave of desire ripples through you. 

Both men curse at the sight and feel of you. 

It shouldn’t feel this good being used and tossed around like a toy, but a thick, syrupy heat steadily gathers in your belly. With your head in the drug-induced clouds, every illicit touch sends you higher into a euphoric atmosphere.

“Wanna hit?” Marc offers, holding the joint between his fingers to the enforcer.

Joel finally tears his eyes away from where he’s spearing you open. He nods, stilling his hips, and extends a hand before pressing the joint between his lips. He takes a long drag before splaying his broad body over yours. 

You notice him in your peripheral as he watches you choke down Marc’s cock. “What a fuckin’ sight,” he drawls, joint bouncing between his lips. “Swallowin’ his cock like your life depends on it.” He roughly drives his hips forward, his leaky crown cruelly kissing your cervix, making you gag from the agonizing bliss. “Kinda ironic that it does.” 

You feel their cocks pulse in unison when you start writhing at Joel’s threat. You knew they wouldn’t hurt you, but the thought was too much to bear in your current state. They quickly make work of your flailing limbs; Joel grabs the back of your neck with a heavy paw, and Marc traps both your hands in his own, caging them against his stout stomach.

They set a brutal pace. You no longer feel in control of your body as they use you to get off. The room echoes with the sounds of gluttony, like feral animals staking their rightful claim on lowly prey. 

Marc comes with a growl, caging your head between his hands as you push against his abdomen, and fucks his salty release into your mouth. He collapses onto the couch with a ragged sigh, his engorged cock a shiny mess as he catches his breath. 

“Gotta get used to this, sweetheart,” Joel gloats in your ear, working an arm around your collarbone to pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to meet every one of his brutal shoves. “Your pretty pussy is gonna be ruined by the time your debt is paid in full.” 

Marc cups your jaw in one of his hands and takes a puff of his joint. He slides a thumb between your sticky, come coated lips and blows the smoke into your mouth. You gladly inhale, letting the drug work its magic. Joel grabs your hips and picks up his speed, greedy for his pleasure. 

He comes with a gruff, dark groan, snapping his hips hard against your ass until he's buried to the hilt and pumping his sticky load into your fluttering core. 

You collapsed onto the cushions once Joel let go of your hips, your body too weak and drugged to care to move despite your vulnerable state.

“We’re square, Kitten.” Marc grazes your cheek with his knuckles, and a sly grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “But anytime you want a hit and can’t pay, I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” Marc quips before silently nodding at Joel and leaves with a bounce in his step.

"Come're, Sweetheart." Large hands slide under your belly and help you stand on your feet. His eyes soften as he looks over your puffy eyes and swollen, slick coated lips. He cups your cheek and sighs through his nose. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

A rush of water hits your ears as Joel turns the shower faucet. You stand behind him like a child waiting for their next instruction before he turns back to you with a slight smile.

"Up and over. That's it," Joel says, ensuring you don't bump your elbows as he removes your shirt, folds it, and places it on your vanity. He helps you step into the shower before he sits on the toilet lid and watches you through the clear plastic curtain. 

Silence falls over the tiny bathroom as he lets you take solace under the stream.

You melt in the warmth. It eases your aches and dulls your overwrought senses. You stay there until your skin prunes and icy cold water pours from the tap.

He helps you step out of the tub, ensuring you're on solid ground before grabbing a towel hanging on the wall and wrapping you in the soft cotton. 

"You'll stay with me until your debt is paid," he said, resting his hands on your shoulders; the weight keeps you grounded as your world turns upside down.

"You won't have to worry about anythin'," he continues, carefully drying your body with a tenderness you didn't expect. "I'll pay your rent, so you still have this place when our transaction is complete." 

You know you should be upset. A screaming, raging mess but seeing such a dangerous man on his knees drying water droplets from your body makes you lightheaded with alarming power.

He stands when you don't outwardly react. His lips are pressed into a worried, hard line, his hands are perched on his hips, and a sharp brow wrinkles his forehead. "Okay?"

The vexation that laces his tone snaps you out of the dumbstruck fog. You knew there was only one right answer.

“Yes,” you rasp, defeated. 

He smirks, softly chuckling under his breath at your submission.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he says, cupping your jaw like he's drinking from a stream; God knows what brutality those hands have dealt out. "I trust you'll still be here when I get back." 

You nod quickly under his grave stare. 

He plants a searing kiss on your lips, making you gasp. It's dominating and possessive, like he's christening the start of your new life together by licking into your mouth and claiming you. 

He breaks the kiss with a grunt and nudges your nose with his own. "Thatta girl." 

He holds your gaze as he slowly walks backward out of the room. "Pack enough for the next week. I'll swing by later to get the rest," he instructs before turning and walking out your door.

You're left standing in your tiny bathroom, panting like a newborn fawn. Your legs wobble as you move to sit on the toilet lid and clutch the towel tighter to your chest; heart smashing against your ribs.

Joel was right. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

*if you'd like to read more about Joel and reader's new life together, please invade my inbox about them! it helps motivate me!*

->reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated!<-

follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[uselesssomebody]

Room's on Fire Masterlist

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Years after the world fell apart, various communities have established themselves, one of which is ran by four men who claim to be divine.

When they decide it's time to and heir to be born, they chose a virgin from their cult and make her their wife. Reader is offered a choice, of course. She doesn't have to marry them. But if she doesn't, the savior won't be born. She choses to become the Madonna. She is wed to all four of them, and moved into their home where her body is open to use whenever her husbands desire (free use au), in the hopes of getting her pregnant. It doesn't matter whose baby it ends up being, because they are all part God, so it doesn't matter... right?

Warnings for full fic, if anything is added or really emphcized it will be in additional warnings.

THIS IS A DARK FIC THOUGH SO BE WARY! I CAN'T PROTECT AGAINST EVERYTHING.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Unknown amount of chapters right now.

Chapter 1: Pilot: Delta finds their Madonna Chapter 2: The wedding Chapter 3: Aftermath of the wedding FishBen: Symptom of Being Human Chapter 4: Pope is not pleased. Chapter 5: Jonah lore, Madonna gets through to Frankie Chapter 6: Madonna gains Frankie's heart, Santi is jealous Iris: Rey and Iris find pockets of time Chapter 7: Fun with Ben: wining Pope back Chapter 8: big announcement to the community Chapter 9: Madonna’s blissful ignorance to the world around her. Chapter 10:

Chapter 11:

Chapter 12:

Chapter 13:

Chapter 14:

Chapter 15:

Chapter 16:

Chapter 17:

Chapter 18:

Chapter 19:

Chapter 20:

Bonus Content

not necessary for the series. Pieces in the main list are suggested as they add depth and sometimes small plot points.

"Can you peel my orange?" Jonah smut

Jonah Hanson character ai

ROF characters Star signs

Jonah x non-Madonna reader x Marcus flashback commission

Art

By @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

By @survivingandenduring

Lil comic by @my-secret-shame

As I said, a lot of themes and dynamics ended up accidentally similarly to Watch Your Step by the amazing @charnelhouse Some was because that fic is what developed my characterizations of the boys. Some was totally incidental, like Pope and readers relation to art. It's different though, a much different series, but I wanted to tell y'all that she s PUBLISHING WYS AS A NOVEL NOW, Its called Cardinal Sin's and I'll link it right here!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

THANK YOU FOR YOU'RE SUPPORT!

Please remember to reblog, and I love comments/asks, anon or not, and would love to see engagement and theories!

[uselesssomebody]

about me!

hi! call me d.c.!

i am bi, and go by she/her pronouns - i am willing to write about men, women, as well as those that identify with another gender.

i've been a wattpad girly ever since wattpad was a thing, and love love love fan content for media (almost always is better than the real thing).

i love to have convos about movies, songs, tv shows and am a pop culture fiend!

currently!

☁ watching: kung fu panda 4 ☁ listening to: girl with one eye ☁ working on: unnamed steve murphy fic for the boyd-a-thon event that @toxicanonymity is hosting

[uselesssomebody]

rules!

blog rules!

this blog is a safe space for the lgbt+ community as well as p.o.c., so please never feel unwelcome. anyone against these values, please just keep scrolling. be polite in requests/interaction. i love a bit of constructive criticism, but keep it contructive. heed 18+ warning and smut/trigger warnings

writing disclaimers!

i am mostly a romance blog, i.e. i write with the intention (usually) of some romantic conclusion between the two characters. i am also a (pretty much) strictly 'x reader' blog; if you have requests for two canon characters, i will most likely not be able to help you.

writing do's!

request anything to me, guys! i will be alright if you request things with triggering content, i will be alright if you choose real niche characters, and i'll be alright if you send a real specific, super self-indulgent request. of course, some asks will be neglected (due to time or other inability to work on it), but, generally, i attempt to complete works that i am alright working with.

writing don't's!

☁ no under-18/kid readers as part of plot (highschool age for e.g. stranger things & teen wold is fine as long as the actor is over 18 - so no s.t. kids!) ☁ i'm not qualified to write about stuff like eating disorders, self harm or other mental illness especially from a reader's perspective ☁ kinks like ddlg/age play, anal penetration, bodily fluids (besides blood and cum) ☁ I do not write real person fiction ☁ while generally POC reader requests is okay, i can't write specific races for charcaters besides desi readers (cause i'm desi myself)

who i write for! (always updating)

☁ from stranger things, i write for eddie munson, robin buckley, billy hargrove or steve harrington ☁ from marvel, i write for bucky barnes, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, jake lockley, marc spector, steven grant, layla el-faouly and miguel o'hara ☁ from star wars, i write for poe dameron, or din djarin (the mandalorian) ☁ from triple frontier, i write for frankie morales and santiago garcia ☁ miscellaneous oscar isaac characters i write for include basil stitt, jonathan levy, duke leto, kane and orestes (agora) ☁ miscellaneous pedro pascal characters i write for include joel miller, javier peña, jack daniels (agent whiskey), dio morrissey ☁ miscellaneous sebastian stan characters i write for include lee bodecker, carter baizen and charles blackwood

[uselesssomebody]

𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

♥ complete writing masterlist ♥

☁ marvel masterlist ☁ stranger things masterlist ☁ teen wolf masterlist ☁ harry potter masterlist ☁ the maze runner masterlist ☁ miscellaneous ☁ kinktober 2023

♥ character.ai bots (coming soon!) ♥

♥ about me ♥

♥ rules ♥

♥ requests & asks: open! ♥

♥ recent library ♥

☁ I: the note (when the world went to shit | pre! and post!outbreak joel miller x reader) ☁ merry christmas - joel miller x reader ☁ bruises - jake lockley x reader

♥ other blogs ♥

☁ dark blog ☁ library blog

[uselesssomebody]

watched dune 2 a few days ago! gimme gimme dune 1&2 requests (will write for most of the characters but personal fave was duke leto of course)

also what we saying abt character ai bots? i'm a lurker but kinda wanna do some bot requests so send those over too :)

[uselesssomebody]

You could read Saltburn's synopsis on imdb to get an idea of what happens in the movie. You could also scroll through the Saltburn tag here on tumblr to find out what some of the movie's plot points are and see people's posts analyzing characters and scenes, which could help you write fanfiction for Felix.

<3 good advice! loved what other ppl are writing about the movie and the character, which inspired me to make this post 🫠