#just crunchy bars | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sepherinaspoppies · 6 months

Text

hunger - michael gavey x reader

summary: the things Michael does for a crunchie bar.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of oral m receiving, oral f receiving, fingering, overstimulation, f squirting.

wc: 2,366

masterlist

notes: my first time writing for Michael lol. yes I did watch the movie and im still appalled by it (too much dick). like all of us, I wish Ewan had more screen time on this cause I felt pretty bad for Michael. he just wanted a friend 😩. I plan on writing another fic about him but when? idk I have too many wips

She uses the pad of her thumb to collect the line of cum that had trickled down the corners of her lips. Bringing the digit back into her mouth to suck off the pearly white liquid, all while seductively gazing at the disheveled boy that sat on the edge of her bed.

Michael let out a breathy moan, feeling his softened cock rousing back to life as he watched her throat swallow every bit of him again. She hums at the taste, salty with a hint of caramel from all those fucking crunchy bars he devours everyday when she’d seem him in class.

She brings herself up from the floor, her knees starting to recuperate from the carpet digging amongst her skin. Standing, she begins to thread her fingers through Michael’s soft sandy hair, appreciating the silkyness of it and the faintest little whines that emitted from his lips before tugging his head back rather abruptly.

“Would you like a taste of me, Gavey?” She asks, even though she knows the answer. It was why they were here, settled at her dorm.

Michael nods zestfully, his eyes trailing to her covered core as if he was already undressing her with his eyes. She grabs his hand and doesn’t fail to notice it was a bit clammy with nerves, and it almost made her feel slightly bad about continuing but the way his blue eyes darkened when she directed his hand toward the hem of her floral dress, made her think differently.

His fingers work at lifting up her dress. A deep shade of crimson floods his perfectly sculpted cheeks as he awkwardly and neatly folded her dress on the side of her nightstand. She giggled at his adorableness, she wasn’t as gentle as he was with her clothing. After, when they made their deal about what they wanted from each other, she clawed out his clothes and scattered them somewhere across her room, having no regard for them.

Once she made quick work at getting rid of her bra, Michael’s eyes widened in amazement as if had just received the perfect gift he always wanted. His fingers twitched, longing to touch what was right in front of him but she knew deep down he was holding himself back.

“I-um- I don’t know what to do” he admits sheepishly.

She knows this, having it heard and confirmed by Felix and Oliver when they were at the pub with a group of their friends.

She gives him a reassuring smile before straddling his lap, “I’ll teach you”

Michael’s face reddened even more if it was possible. His gaze lingered on her lips, then a back up to her eyes giving her a silent look for permission to kiss her lips to which she nodded fervently.

He wastes no time to crash his lips to hers, leaning his head forward to deepen the kiss. She moans, unsure if Michael knew how to kiss but even then she was willing to teach him if it need be. She moves her knees to get closer to Michael, her bare breasts scraping tightly against his chest as she wraps her arms around his neck desperately needing him to be closer than they already were.

She whines softly into the kiss as she swipes her tongue over Michael’s bottom lip. Michael moans in response, parting his lips open to let her gain access and she seizes the opportunity to dance her tongue against his own. Michael furrows his brows in concentration, taking mental notes on how exactly she liked to be kissed by the way he strokes his tongue synchronously with hers and the soft little moans that follow out of her lips.

She pulls away, a hint of chocolate and mint lingering on her lips, as she yearns for more of him between her legs. She almost wants to continue kissing him as she watches Michael’s blue eyes slowly flutter open and his lower lip curling into a pout, mewling at the loss of contact.

“We can kiss more after, if you want. Right now, I need you to return the favor” She pants, out of breath. Michael mends his pout into an eager smile that makes her chuckle. For such an arrogant know-it-all he sure had a way of being cute.

She lifts herself up by the help of Michael’s shoulders, crawling over the middle of her bed to rest her back against the duvet. “Ready?” She asks, wiggling her brows enthusiastically, already feeling giddy deep in her stomach.

Michael nods as he slowly adjusted to sit between her legs, his curious eyes never leaving her damp covered center, his pink tongue sweeping over his lips quickly practically already tasting her.

“Take of my panties, Gavey”

She hears Michael audibly whimper as his quivering fingers hook to the waistband of her underwear, sliding it off and causing her to release a shudder over the coolness of his fingertips.

Michael brushed his fingers against the garment of her underwear, studying it before he brought it to his nose, deeply inhaling the juices that were caused by being in the mere presence of him, from having him inside her mouth, around her hands, his kiss…

There was something so hot and erotic about it, seeing the guy who always picks on her for not being as smart as he was, sniffing her juices like he was a starved man. She moaned at his actions even more so when he quickly bent over the bed and stuffed her underwear into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts, probably saving it for later.

She bites back a protest. Those were her favorite pair but she supposes she can spare them for now.

Michael resumed his previous position in between her thighs. This time his face laid just centimeters away from her glistening core. She can feel his hot ragged breath fanning over the little patch of curls above her cunt, and very faintly she can hear Michael murmur “christ” under his breath.

She props herself on her elbows, “Give me your hand” Michael releases another shaky breath before he allows her to direct his hand to cup her mound.

“Do you feel how wet I am for you, Michael?”

Michael groans, desperate for some friction he grinds his cock on the bed. He can feel it. He can feel his hand soaked with her arousal. Michael wants to pull back and lick everybit clean off his hand.

“That’s- that’s my clit” She informs Michael with a strain voice as she runs his index finger through her folds. Michael stares at her engorged bud, having remembered studying it from his anatomy class and how it brought him great curiosity. Now, he was face to face with it and nothing could prepare how much excitement it brought him.

“The clit is very important. It’s where most of our pleasure comes from. Just pay adequate attention to it and gently circle it-”

She isn’t sure of the noises that leave her mouth, only feeling Michael beginning to circle her bud in a manner where not even most guys she’s been with have done so. It’s unhurried, unsure and gentle but it’s enough for her to feel waves of pleasure up her spine and her toes curling against the duvet.

“Oh! Michael” She moans, arching her back and unintentionally caging Michael’s head between her thighs.

Michael pulls his finger quickly like lightning away from her bud, his face showing a bit of concern. “What? What’s wrong? Was this not to your liking? I can try-”

“No, no. You’re doing great, really. I-I just, well, I like it and I meant it in a good way” She reassures him with a smile, a slight warmth shoots to her cheeks.

God, was she blushing at Michael fucking Gavey? Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan or the agreement!

“Oh, I see” Michael smirks before lowering his head, “Can I use my tongue?” She almost wants to desperately scream ‘YES’ and grind herself against his face but she instead nods and that was enough of a response for Michael as he flattens the tip of his tongue where her clit was.

Her back arches again, instinctively, feeling Michael’s tongue circle her bud and sweep through her folds all while he keeps his lustful gaze on her, watching the way her face contorts into different forms of pleasure and the audible moans and gasps he hears when he flicks his tongue in a rhythm he notes she likes.

Michael soon also finds himself moaning at the way she tastes. It was a flavor so sweet. Sweeter than the chocolate of his crunchy bars he so religiously ate. How could he ever tire of her taste?

Her chest begins to heave, her stomach feeling fuzzy and tight. She was nearing her first orgasm in weeks.

But then suddenly something unexpected happens. Michael hooks her thighs under his arms, bringing her cunt closer to his face. His red and swollen lips closed in around her clit, tenderly sucking. His actions along with the vibrations of his moans, sends hot shocks of pleasure that she feels the band in her stomach about to snap.

“Michaelllll. I’m about to-to cum” She cries, feeling orgasm seconds away from releasing.

“Really?” Michael mumbles with an exciting look in his eyes. She hums, her hands no longer fisting the duvet but instead gripping Michael’s hair.

Michael continues to lap at her core at the same rhythm he notices she likes, working his tongue quicker until he feels the meaty flesh of her thighs close in on his head and tremble.

“Michael! Yes! Yes!!!” She chants so loudly that both her and Michael know everyone in the dorm floor would listen. She couldn’t bring herself to care about everyone listening. The genius math nerd in all of Oxford just gave her the best head in the world.

Michael drinks in her release and this time he is able to pinpoint what flavor she reminds him of.

Honey.

She mewls softly. Her body feels weak and tired like she had just ran the longest marathon in her life. “So good, Michael. You did such a good job” She praises, giving the cunt-drunk man between her thighs a lazy smile as she brushes the damp hair away from his face.

A blush creeps into Michael’s cheeks, a sense of pride fills his senses. He knows he wants more now that she let him taste her. Michael supposes she could give him another taste to satisfy his hunger. She was right there for the taking. Why not?

“What are you doing?” She curiously asks, peering over as Michael dips his head again making her eyes widen in amazement.

“Michael, wait. We agreed just… Oh fuck!” Her back arches, hands gripping her breasts and a series of gasps leave her lips as Michael redoubles his efforts and works his tongue at an incredible speed that makes tears leave the corners of her eyes over the sensitivity.

Michael was getting skilled at this. Too skilled with tongue.

The thin metal of Michael’s glasses dug at her thighs, his face tightly pressed at her core as he growled devotedly. Had she just accidentally created a feral animal? Fuck.

This time she feels herself ascending closer to her peak more than usual. Her legs involuntarily begin to tremble and her mind feels fuzzy as she has no more strength to fight the waves of pleasure Michael was awarding.

“Michael” She cries, unsure why.

Michael, however, lost in his pleasure instinctively comes up with an idea. He unhooks one of his hands around her thigh and brings one of his fingers toward her entrance, plunging inside her walls in and out and curses at the way she clenches around his finger.

“No, no, no. Stay” Michael mumbles as her hips buckle away from his ministrations.

This was all getting too much for her. But she does what she’s told and stays and her body violently trembles one last time until she feels the pressure deep in her belly explode and her vision going absolutely blank.

Has she died and gone to heaven? Cause fuck!

She doesn’t seem to remember how to breathe or pick up the surprise yelps from Michael. She was absolutely drained and spent.

“Are-are you okay down there?” She asks, panting, gathering whatever strength she had left to peer down between her thighs. Michael’s round blue eyes look up at her in shock. His face, coated with much of her juices. Even his glasses had not been spared. A palm sized wet patch soaked her bedding.

Did Michael fucking Gavey make me squirt?

“I’m sorry that's the first time that ever happened to me. Wait here, let me get a towel to clean you up” She stammers as she begins to crawl out of her bed but Michael’s hand wraps around her ankle, preventing her.

“No need. I quite liked it” He blinks as cleans his face with his fingers, licking away her arousal like the embarrassing thing she did not happen.

He plops himself next to her on the bed, landing with a heavy thud. “So” Michael trails with a smirk, his head resting on his elbow. “Did I earn my reward?”

She scoffs playfully. How could she forget their deal?

She was walking to her class earlier on the day when she spotted Michael pouding and cursing at a vending machine for eating the last cash he had on him. She evilly laughed at him before she nonchalantly walked over to the vending machine and purchased the last two crunchy bars while waving it on his face. Truthfully, she did not find chocolate as pleasing as he did. Michael had scoffed before he followed her like a lost puppy, telling her he’d pay her back the next day. A wicked plan forged inside her head in a way he could pay her back.

“Here” She slams the two golden bars against his chest after she retrieved them from her bag. Michael smiles and mutters a ‘thanks’ as he unwraps his treat and brings her body to rest against his chest.

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @smayhem @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @imsoshygirl

empty is who I couldn't tag sorry :/

if you'd like to be tag on my general taglist click here

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey #ewan mitchell

888 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 7 months

Text

Chapter 1: And So, Chaos Was Born.

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNING: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Smut, angst, emotional distress, mentions and graphic depictions of cheating, rough sex, one night stand, Protected sex, p in v, fingering, squirting, touch starved reader, mentions of fuck buddies, condom breaking, reckless and questionable behaviors, established relationships.

Summary: A momentary relief brings the worst possible of outcomes.

Pt. 2

reblogs, comments, tags are highly appreciated c:

Chapter's song:

Sparkling bubbles popped in the surface of the champagne cups as they were distributed among the attendants. A relatively formal retirement party.

A party that liked it or not required your presence in an attempt to make feel the retiring executive chairman appreciated and already missed, despite most having the slightest idea who the hell he was.

Just a few bunch knew him, but even so, many have their reasons to be at the party besides the RSVP deemed mandatory. Free food, alcohol, a collective ogling from the well dressed coworkers people had a crush on, leading to new gossips to keep boredom away and morale up within Alchemax's breadwinners.

Not so discreet looks at the administration's and Lab's secret crushes, more gossips and a night off preoccupations. Your reason? Getting all dolled up and wear for the first time a dress you always wanted but never had the occasion to wear.

A black silk bustier cut dress with spaghetti's straps and floral embroidery with matching and stylish spool heel sandals. Hair that was usually tied in a mid ponytail on reception, thanks to the borderline stupid corporative image code, was now free and blown out by a stylist.

A French girl makeup that only enhanced your features, drawing the attention towards your lips. Nails lacquered in a lovely shade of red that matched your alluring mouth. Along a black little purse to hold your personal items.

You looked different from the boring receptionist look you had mastered after Two years of working for Alchemax.

A couple of men had approached you through the night, but we're kindly declined. Part of your job had granted you the ability to remember faces quite well, hence a bit of knowledge about their position in the company.

One worked in the research department, the other one had invited you a cup and a talk, but he was known as The dirty Samson in the administration lands. Another one from HR and Security management.

It was odd. They'd probably pass you without noticing much difference if you were in the working mode. Sometimes you marvelled at how easily impressed men were with a bit of makeup and more effort. It was like if you were a completely new person. The HR guy had the nerve to ask you if you had been transferred. Earning the instant rejection buzz.

You downed what it seemed your third cup of sparkling liquor, and went to the entré bar. You didn't know who was the guy but were grateful he thought about leaving the big way, and his colleagues to splurge in him in delicious food that had you swooning. Specially some little empanadas, full with the right amount of spicy seasoning that made your mouth soar in delight.

You were about to grab the last one when a large and tan hand snatched it from the silver and fancy platter at the last second.

A bushy eyebrow quirked at you, a silent this is mine, get over it. With a huff you reached for the last crunchy guacamole cup when your fingers grazed not so kindly with his. By instinct you slapped his hand away but quickly turned horrified at your actions.

"I'm so so sorry... fuck." You covered your mouth and the man chuckled, amused at your nervousness.

What if he was from the higher ups? What if he got you fired for being so careless and uncouth? What if-

"Here, have it. They're bringing more anyways"

A tight knot coiled in your stomach as nervousness bloomed into anxiety.

"Thanks" Your dry mouth mumbled, his eyes remaining on you for a bit, seizing you while reaching for the food. Sadly, his face was the only one that didn't ring a bell on your memory, and you had seen and remembered a lot of faces through your working years.

You'd definitely remember sharp cheekbones, meaty and inviting lips, Mahogany eyes that would search within the deepest crack of your soul without trying much. A rare yet appealing color that screamed danger. Strong nose and a compelling demeanor that would scare anyone coward enough to flee from his presence.

And you were no coward.

The cherry ontop was his voice. Deep with a dash of mischievousness if you paid enough attention.

He held a cup of champagne on his left hand.

"The lobster spring rolls are good"

Mentally slapping yourself for a rather awkward approach, you grabbed a small paper cup of sweet chili sauce to go with the two aforementioned snacks in your plate.

He just looked at your hands, eyes trailing over the skin and soon, stopped at your chest. Lovely pair of mounds that would certainly fit into his hands.

He blinked the sudden thought away but it didn't help him watch you popping a small grape into your mouth.

Oddly enough he had been angry. Angry at the text messages and calls he had received a while ago, unleashing a new level of meanness within his heart.

He hated being belittled and the passive aggressive back handed texts did not help him. He needed to replenish before setting his plan in motion. Part of him knew it was wrong what his mind had conspired, but his current situation had decided it was enough. He could only take so much before lashing out.

The anger had to be let out one way or another. And you happened to set his imaginary idea bulb alight. His jaw clenched.

He hadn't seen you before, to him you'd probably be another outside guest that would have no business in returning to the company. Someone who would be forgotten in a span of a night. Another one in his long forgotten and hidden list of conquers.

You downed the fourth cup of champagne and ate, balancing the alcohol ingest.

"What's your name?"

The words came out of his mouth like butter. In other circumstances he'd be repulsed by his own behavior, but the brewing anger had to be unleashed one way or another, or things would turn even more acrid within his mind.

Your eyes widened a bit at the question. Naturally you gave him your name and he nodded.

"Miguel. Nice to meet you."

He offered his right hand and you took it. His engulfing yours with ease.

"Are you having fun?"

"I'm just here for the food if I'm honest" You chuckled and cleared your throat, hoping the lack of flirting over the past six months wouldn't seep in through and ruin the possible chance ahead of you.

"Uh, what about you?"

"Not a party guy. But one in a while won't hurt."

"Cheers to that" Your cups clinked.

His eyes scanned the area. People were either scattered in the main salon area, or were outside in the balconies, in their own world not really looking his way or yours.

Good.

"Do you know by chance whose the guy that's leaving?" His chuckle only widened your smile.

"Not really."

Lies. Miguel perfectly knew him, He was the chairman of the Lab Department, and if he worked hard enough, he'd be the old man's replacement soon. He even had a new project proposal he had been assembling the past months and hopefully that would kickstart his road ahead.

You on the other hand, had been looking into a more administrative position, trying to upgrade the current status of a simple receptionist. You definitely needed a raise.

"I mean, if this is being served at his retiring, can't help but wonder what they will do in his funeral."

Miguel couldn't help but genuinely laugh at your comment. You smiled again and gulped.

"I haven't seen your face around here." mumbling you set your eyes on him again, he smirked.

"Same thing. Would've remembered those pretty lips. Preciosa"

He didn't need to explain what that meant since it caused the right effect on you. The kind of effect that would have your skin flushed, and a chill running down your spine. Oh the petty in him was running rampant and there was none to stop him.

"Well, speak for yourself."

"You think I have pretty lips?"

It was disgusting to him how easy he could slip into this old mask he had dropped many years ago. Nearly scary at how natural he still seemed in the arts of flirting.

"The prettiest I've seen so far." You mumbled an octave lower.

But you didn't slack. You were persevering, he gave you that. If only the rest of his colleagues had that, it'd make his job easier. You were pretty. Really pretty, and he was being a resented ass that knew how to indulge.

"I was supposed to say that, sweetheart."

Be it the alcohol, or your sudden raging hormones that sparked a little fire within that he kept feeding with his words, or the lack of sex for the past half year that got you extra bold tonight. It was your night.

"Pretty sure they'd look better on mines."

His brow quirked as your eyes gazed at each other's. Biting your plump and red lips was enough for him make his resolve.

"Wanna try out that theory?"

He put the food and cup down and offered your hand. Once more his morals reminded him of the consequences. But he pushed them back, like everything that made little to keep his mind busy and focused.

You took it, letting him guide you to another milieu of the building. A more secluded area. HR's bathrooms. Not the kind of setting that you had imagined, but given the working areas being closed for the night, neither of you could be picky.

Plus none would take their time to walk this much to relieve themselves. You had an itch and he would scratch it.

A new sense of thrill invaded you as he took you to one bathroom stall. Once the door was locked, Meaty and plump lips landed on yours while he cornered you against the wall. Purse dangled on your shoulder

Red lips limned sin. A sin that he was tainted with the more you both devoured each other.

His hands roamed your romantic body lines, and pulled you impossibly closer to his, but the bathroom was proving to be a nuisance.

He groaned as he separated from you and opened the stall, looking outside for a moment.

"Come" He pulled you out the caged place to get into the special needs one. It was definitely roomier, kinkier even if he knew how to make the most out of the space. The lovely smell of jasmine and floral undertones the area was doused in, helped your senses relax, coaxing you even more into his lips.

His tongue swirled yours, while his hands trapped your head in the ravaging kiss. One of his thighs positioned between your legs, and pushed against your flesh, earning a mewl. Purse long forgotten on the floor.

Seizing the chance he lured your tongue out and sucked it softly, your hips humped his thigh. He smirked into the kiss as his hands slid down your neck and stop at your shoulders. The thin straps of your dress were slid down, the area cupping your breast next.

He pulled out from the kiss and stared down at you. Lust and something darker looming over his eyes. His cologne tickled your senses, and your skin crawled when he pushed you against the wall once more and his tongue skimmed over your neck.

Your senses under attack only urged him to release your breast. Breast that looked as delicious as he had imagined. Perky nipples met his hungry gaze, mouth trailed over the valley between them and suckled over the left one.

Gasping, you held onto the horizontal metallic bar next to you, grounding at the building up sensations. A whimper filtered through your throat as his other hand played and tweaked softly at your lonely breast. His mouth turned on pleasuring both, to then squeeze them together, trying to fit both in his mouth.

"F-Fuck-" Your face turned a bright red as he pulled one softly between his teeth, to then give a deep suck that had you groaning. He released you with a wet pop, nipple glistening with his saliva. A little hickey underneath the nub.

A discreet way of marking you.

His fingers ventured over your back zipper releasing your body from the lavish dress. He picked it up and hooked it on the little contraption attached to the door, preventing it to soil down, despite the place's apparent immaculate state.

And what he saw underneath got his pants tighter at his groin. Your panties only accentuated the dip of your curves as generous hips called him in. Luring him to be lost between them.

He removed his suit and placed it ontop of your dress, sleeves rolled up his elbows, revealing strong and well worked forearms.

Your hands pulled him by the belt buckle and he chucked but quickly gasped as you undid the thing and slid a hand in his pants and caressed his clothed cock. Eyes widening at the sheer size.

"Uh uh, don't back up now, princess."

His tone sending shivers down your spine. You squeezed.

"I'm not." Alcohol made you stupid. And bold. That's why you were a social drinker. You pulled his pants as low as you managed to.

Your hand fumbled with his boxers for a second before taking a hold of his erection. Husky breath fanned on your face as you pumped him with one hand and the other pulled the cotton undergarment down his sculpted thighs.

"Faster, cariño-" He groaned at your pace increasing, " J-Justo así. Dios que rico..." (Just like that. God... that so good)

He mumbled in between raged breaths, one of his hands slid in your panties, fingers dipping between your moist folds. Caressing and rubbing as much flesh as they managed to meet, until he made contact with your clit. You whimpered and your pumping faltered. He slid your panties off your legs.

"No no, keep going" It was hard to please him when you were crumbling upon the ministrations he provided. Your hole slurped one of his fingers, trapping him inside. Erratic as your handjob was, it provided him enough urge to plunge another finger in, stretching bit by bit your tight and now soaked hole.

Your face was blissful as his fingers curled and flexed inside. His phalanges contracting and prodding at the right spots that had you humping his hand, trying to get as much friction inside as possible.

His fingers drenched and your mewls turned into loud groans but he put a hand on your mouth, while he slid in and out with ease. Juices rolling down the back of his palm and pooling on his hand. He nearly laughed at the realization.

He hadn't even fucked you properly and you were already melting and gushing on his hand. And the tightness inside. God, he was gonna enjoy ruining you.

Your breath hitched as he wriggled his fingers deeper. Your hand kept giving him deep yet slow strokes, alternating between pumping and squeezing him.

His ears were full of a wet and sinful song. Your mewlings mixed with the sloshing noises your drenched cunt did pushed him to graze at that swelling and rubbery texture inside you that earned him a yelp. Your hand had long stopped and clung to his shirt, mouth ajar underneath his hand, trying to find the right sound to vocalize.

A muffled sob. Your eyes rolled back as your body convulsed and your pussy gushed. A satisfied smirk plastered over his handsome face while you came. Your arousal staining the floor in droplets.

You looked gorgeous, he had to admit. Flushed cheeks and neck, lust half lidded eyes that stared back at him, begging for more. Chin smeared in lipstick, that trembled with every deep pant you did. So so gorgeous.

"Condom" You breathed, "P-Put it on"

Clever girl. If it wasn't for your words he'd raw you. You amused him. Despite your lust blown mind, you still managed to think coherently.

He reached for his wallet and pulled out one. His phone buzzed with many texts surpassing the twenty. But he put it on plane mode and quickly resumed his revenge. The latex ring was rolled down his shaft, fitting snug and perfectly built at his size.

He cupped your quivering and soaked thighs and sat you on the metallic bar you were holding onto. His mouth busied with yours and his hand guided his engorged tip towards your aching and awaiting flesh.

Miguel bit your lip at the brain splitting sensation your warm and tight pussy provided. Your legs spreaded as wide as they could to take him in completely.

"Dios mío..." He rasped as he pushed in to the brim, your thighs resting on his forearms while your spine rested against the wall. Your jaw clenched at the fullness you were experiencing. Pain and pleasure came in hand in hand. It didn't help he had sheathed in as you were still riding your high.

"You okay, cariño?" A weak nod. His forehead rested against yours, letting to adjust at his stretching and invading cock. With a roll of his hips he pushed all air away from your lungs.

A hand squeezed his shoulder as the other covered your mouth, preventing from being too loud.

"Good girl" He praised and his hips moved again, keeping a steady pace.

"M-Miguel" You whimpered and writhed, "Wait, wait-"

He chuckled and kissed your neck, helping your discomfort to leave your body. But in truth, you were cumming again. Your legs went around him and clamped tightly. Shallow and erratic breaths flew out your mouth as you came by taking in his cock. Body licked with fire.

"Jesus, babe." He held your thighs tighter as they trembled, "Been a while, huh?"

You nodded and he cooed. A high pitched whimper echoed through the walls and he immediately shut you up with his hand again.

"You gotta tone it down, ok?"

You nodded and kissed him desperately. And it was enough spark for him to move inside. Deep and slow strokes were delivered while he clawed at your ass.

Every stretch increased in pleasure while the discomfort subsided. Never in your life had met someone this big. He got your mind made a puddle. A puddle he enjoyed playing with.

His voice whispered the sweetest and filthiest things his mind could come up with. Noting how you reacted at the filth he plowed in deeper. Your cervix was bullied.

"Harder" barely a whisper

"What was that?" He stopped and you whined

"H-Harder"

He tittered, "You're barely holding it together sweetheart, want me to ruin your pretty pussy? Hm?"

You nodded and urged your hips closer to him.

"Can't say no to that face."

His grip tightened on your ass, his hips accommodated in a different angle and sheathed in once more. Feeling yourself full made your toes curl in again.

He didn't give you time to fully grasp your reality as an onslaught of thrusts were pounded into your squelching hole.

Your spine arched while his hands handled you like a ragdoll on his cock. The only remaining garment on your body were the heels.

Where was he when you needed a new fuck buddy? It didn't matter.

Not when he was punishing your cunt and bullying your cervix in a way none had made you feel before. It was addictive. Ass bounced on his hands with every toe curling thrust.

He left you insides empty with every pull he gave, only to be filled again. And again and again. He had warned you, but you didn't listen. And now you were enjoying and suffering the consequences.

His hot breath fanned over your neck, as much as he wanted to leave you marked as his despite just being a one night stand, he couldn't leave traces.

He didn't know if you had someone. Neither care. All he cared for was that he was getting his anger out and you were enjoying it. You liked it rough.

He stilled and dropped your legs on the floor, the sudden action caused a slit in the condom, he knew he had to stop and change it, but you felt too good and your insides begged to be ruined. You were too cock drunk to notice. He just turned you around and hoisted one of your thighs up, opening you like a book.

He buried in with a swift motion and resumed his relentless thrust, leaving you breathless again. Your hands held tightly on the bar as he pounded on your needy cunt.

The constant slap had your whole frame shaking, even your head, that tried hard to keep inside the sanity line. But this angle provided him not only the perfect spot for him to stimulate both, but a deeper and meaner reaching within.

His chest was filled with pride at every time you gasped, panted, moaned, begged and wailed his name. Unlike her.

By God he was angry. Angry at the belittling words of him not being man enough to keep with stupid antics.

You sobbed as your frame shook with such force it was mind shattering. His hands held such a grip on yours he was glad you had that dress to cover up the bruises.

How dared she? How Dana could say such things when he was making this beautiful stranger he met minutes ago so blissful and happy? How could she say she was left unsatisfied when he was giving it all to you? Wetness didn't lie. And you had not only squirted, but kept him drenched and welcomed and asked no questions.

A perfect subject.

You didn't care. Too focused on trying to not go deranged at the pleasure you've certainly been lacking. Your insides twitched. You looked even better than her when fucked out. Sounded even, unlike the annoying quiet moans Dana gave him, making him feel unsure of his performance in bed.

He slapped your ass, a red mark blooming on your right supple cheek.

Dana hated being manhandled too roughly. But you loved it, encouraged it even. He didn't know who to blame to get to this point. Himself for letting things to run deeper until they turned into this wretched anger, or Dana for getting used to his temper and approach him once things were calm enough.

Feeding this harmful behavior just for the sake of not letting him go. Sometimes happy moments with her weren't enough for him, but he was too comfortable to just go and start meeting new people. He wasn't one for social mingling, but tolerated the whim enough to get him some favors among administration.

If it wasn't for the fact that he was cheating out of spite, he'd definitely ask your number for a round two.

You came with the most delicious sound he had ever heard, igniting his own peak.

He emptied inside you with an angry growl. Thick blobs of his cum spilling into the condom. He threw his head back and relished at the release. Anger finally subsiding.

He let your thigh go and pulled out. A few droplets had escaped through the now broken condom. Rolling his eyes he discarded it and cleaned himself up. His fingers wiping the leaking cum off your flushed cunt .

"You still with me, preciosa?"

You landed on the floor with an oof. And laughed. He cradled you in his arms with a chuckle. Your Bambi legs trying to get a hold of themselves as you stood.

"That was..." You shook your head with a laugh, "Too bad I didn't met you six months ago."

He smirked and wiped the sweat off his forehead and body, trying to tone down his tussled looks. You reached for your panties and soon got dressed.

In truth, six months ago he was on the beach, having an impromptu vacation with Dana, celebrating on of her achievements.

His hands reached for your zipper once he saw you struggling with it.

"Thanks."

The long forgotten purse on the ground was picked up, your hands reached for the item you were looking for. You handed him a couple of makeup remover towelettes.

"Gracias." He mumbled as he left the stall. You followed only to giggle at your reflection. All the money invested at the stylist, gone.

Chin flushed by the smeared lipstick, mascara had ran out, just like the eyeliner. Frizzy hair, and flushed out cheeks.

Each of you cleaned up, wiping away the immorality of what just happened. Bit by bit, you started to look the way you were an hour ago. The tussled hair only added a little more appeal to your looks.

"Sure you can walk?"

You sighed, "It's kinda uncomfortable to walk after months without sex. But yeah."

You corrected your eyeshadow and then took the lipstick.

"God take his time but surely never forgets"

Again, he laughed softly. Maybe he should ask for your phone. The screen however was alight in his phone and he exhaled, annoyed.

"Thanks... Miguel right? That was amazing."

The last chivalry act of him was to take your hand and kiss the back of your palm.

"Thank you, hermosa. Have a good night."

He left.

As you gave an approving look in the mirror and mentally congratulated yourself for such feat, Miguel had left the building.

You were home with a wide smile, unaware of the ruse you were dragged in.

Monday came and you went into working mode. Receiving the guests and other executives with a smile was part of your job.

The Cinderella illusion had vanished, leaving you with a new expectation no man could fill. Thighs rubbed together at the memory.

Your evening was spent between organizing files, receiving calls, giving information to people, arranging meetings, and dispatching the couriers.

You had just received a package, the name Dana D'Angelo etched on the delivery tag. Thirty minutes more and you'd be able to go home. Hands fixed your ponytail for the third time.

Your fingers typed in the information as you scheduled the meetings, when a brunette with a short bob approached.

"Hi. By any chance a package with the name of D'Angelo came in?"

Her smile was disarming, she had the cool pretty and rich girl aura irradiating from her. The kind of aura that would make people stare her way while entering a room.

"Yup! Just got it actually." You rose from your seat to fetch the package. A little wedding magazines bundle and some information pamphlets regarding venues and other wedding relating procedures.

"There you go. Sign here, please." You pointed at the space as her hand slid the pencil on the paper. Penmanship impeccable as you noticed an engagement ring on her left hand. Shiny and perfectly snugged in her finger.

Lucky girl.

Your smile stretched at the thought. Of course pretty girls like her had a wonderful looking man as a future husband.

" Dana, cariño. Hurry"

The familiar voice made you snap your head up at the man. Much to your horror Miguel stood before you, a golden band on his ring finger, matching Dana's.

Throat dried and soured, like if you had been forced to swallow a tall glass of ashes. Heart thumped so violently you had to clutch your chest for a second as your eyes locked on eachother.

His eyes widened to then narrow upon recognizing you. A subtle scowl twitched on his upper lip.

Realization hit both harder than a car crash, so sudden, unexpected, and terrifying. Unmistakably he was the same man that had gave you the most toe curling fuck of your life, the same man that didn't wear his ring while plowing into you in a bathroom stall after a few minutes of flirting.

The same man that frowned your way after Dana got her package. Piercing eyes seized you. There were no longer lust, but apprehension and mistrust in them. Neither of you needed words to understand the devastating consequences that would unfold if your little dirty secret came into light.

Homewrecker

The thought made you pale. You had fucked an engaged man. You had been lured and used by an engaged man. You were part of a lie the brunette wasn't even aware of. And right now you wished to be as blissfully ignorant as she was. Unaware of your role in this back stabbing and heart wrenching lie.

No no no!

Dana walked ahead and Miguel followed. Nausea rising to your throat, your stomach clenched in such way upon witnessing them kissing and move towards the entrance.

How could he? No, no. How could you?

Slut

His hand wrapping her smaller shoulders in a loving embrace while he shot a contempt and skin crawling glare your way.

A Shutup and don't get in my way look.

If only the earth could swallow and spit you out elsewhere far far away. A silent threat. A threat that you weren't sure of keeping to yourself. So many questions flooded your brain at once.

Like a miriad of voices were urging you to do the right thing and spare the woman the heartache of discovering it on her own, damned be the consequences. But his eyes and the promise within them made your racing thoughts to stop. He was a different person from the one you met and he didn't need words to make his point clear.

Keep your mouth shut.

Whore

Another man got in your peripheral as he greeted you. A visitor. Head spun, voices so loud you considered in yelling them to stop.

Instead, you forced a strained and nervous smile upon the visitor that approached you.

"Welcome to Alchemax. What can I do for you?"

You'll burn.

Taglist:

@death-moth-art @miss-taura @xylianasblog @serpentstarr @randomnobody187 @tayleighuh @8xbygirl @artyanimi @ittybxttykxttytxtty @del-ightfulling @iytatsworld @moonzuzuu

@huehuehuehuehehe @ryk-mt

Header made by me

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara angst #t writes✨#one night stand #Spotify

674 notes · View notes

brightbertalt · 4 months

Text

michael gavey who brings you crunchy bars when you’re studying with him and he totally doesn’t have a crush on you.

michael gavey who, when he points out something in the textbook or homework, stares at your eyes a little bit too long. he totally doesn’t have a crush on you.

michael gavey who gives you outfit advice (even though he totally doesn’t understand fashion) and scans your whole body before saying, “looks good on you” hesitantly because he doesn’t wanna make it seem like he likes you. he totally doesn’t btw.

michael gavey who’s your best friend, and you would follow his advice anytime. so when you told him you were invited to go to oliver’s party at saltburn and he gives you a whole lecture on why you shouldn’t go. he’s just concerned for your safety. he totally doesn’t love you btw.

michael gavey who convinces you to stay in his dorm with him because he wants to watch a movie with you. he makes you guys popcorn and buys chocolate and soda and rents star wars. you guys both share a blanket and your hands are suspiciously close. he blushes. he doesn’t have a major crush on you.

michael gavey who, very hesitantly, puts his hand over your hand but doesn’t look at you. you can feel how sweaty he is. he takes a sip of his soda and looks at you. he asks, “is that okay?” because he totally doesn’t love you.

michael gavey who flinches when you put your head on his shoulder.

michael gavey who also flinches when you kiss him.

he totally loves you.

#fanfic #fanfiction #saltburn x reader #saltburn #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey #ewan mitchell

338 notes · View notes

fangirl-dot-com · 6 months

Text

Chapter 5 - Put it into Speed Drive

Longer chapter this time! The next update probably won't be until Tuesday, and or Wednesday night and then Thursday.

For planning, after 2023 is up, I will not be keeping up with the actual schedule for the races. The chapters will still come in chronological order, but it won't be week by week. This will be the start of the parallel universe.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please comment! And now enjoy the show :)

You were practically buzzing after the suit fitting. It was just one step closer to getting you in the car. Which would happen very soon. Sunday to be exact. Tomorrow. There were just so many words to describe how soon it was.

You went from no open doors in F1 to a door that was blown to bits and then shredded, leaving a giant hole for you to just walk through. However, your daydreams of blowing doors up were interrupted by the growl of you stomach. You walked through the door of the fitting room and found Vito right where you left him.

Such a good manager.

He was talking to someone though, and you really didn’t want to interrupt. But, your stomach was about to commence in the whale mating call song and you really didn’t want anyone to hear that. Your eyes glanced around before they landed on Mitch, who seemed to just be typing on her tablet.

You quickly walk over and tap her on the shoulder. “Mitch, uh, where would I be able to find some food?”

She looked up from her tablet with a smile. Dang, did she just smile at everything?

“I can take you to get some food if you’d like me to?” she responded. You quickly nodded your head. Taking the lead, Mitch started to walk over to the other side of the sim room. How many rooms were connected to this place? You wondered as she opened a door.

“This room is one of the more private areas, which in return, gets its own side of the building. From here you’re able to reach just about any other place.” Now that was creepy, could she read your mind?

Your face must have been in a contemplative look as she let out a small laugh. The walk was short as the two of you entered an all-while room. A small cooking bar was to the left while tables and chairs littered the rest of the floor. Your mouth was wide open.

You told Mitch, “Dams is not this nice.” A pout came from you.

“Well, now you don’t have to be jealous. You know that you work here now,” she reminded you as she took a tray and began to walk down the bar. You followed her doing and picked up your own tray. Looking up, you gazed over the menu, trying to find something that looked like it would fit in your diet.

“By the way, everything here is supposed to go hand in hand with a driver’s diet. So pick anything you’d like,” a voice said from behind the counter. A woman with a hairnet smiled as you finally decided on a club sandwich with some chips (the crunchy kind – not French fries). Once you got your food, you walked over to the table next to the window where Mitch was already sitting.

You quickly remember that you practically left Vito, so you shot him a quick text letting him know where you were. In typical fashion, she just sent a thumbs up emoji. What a dad.

The two of you ate in silence for a bit, before Mitch spoke up.

“So kid, tell me a little bit about yourself.” She took a bite of her sandwich.

You quickly swallowed. “Uh, I’m 20 years old. I’m from a lot of places, didn’t really stay in one place for long. The longest I stayed anywhere was Texas for 5 years (a.n. shameless plug). I’m pretty introverted and don’t normally talk to others first. I have a little apartment in Nice, but now I think I should look for one close to here. I am an only child. And Danny DeVito is my spirit animal.”

Mitch almost spit out her drink as her shoulders began to shake. That also got you laughing. “What about you?” you questioned back. You were beginning to feel sad because your sandwich was almost gone.

“Well, I am 35. I have been at Red Bull for two years now. I was an engineer before this and worked on the car. I don’t have any kids.”

You interrupted her, “Well now you do.” You pointed at yourself before taking a giant slurp of your drink.

She rolled her eyes before continuing, “I’ve lived in London my whole life. I have a degree in engineering as well. And my favorite season is fall.”

Small talk continued as you finished your lunch, or almost dinner. As you looked out the window, you saw that the sun was about to begin to set. You hadn’t realized how long everything had taken. A yawn escaped your lips as you and Mitch made your way back to the simulator room. There Vito was waiting for you, looking ready to go. Saying goodbye with a hug, you told Mitch that you’d see her bright and early for the test drive.

Not wanting to get left behind, you found yourself sticking to Vito as he guided the two of you back down the poster hallway. At least now you were familiar with the turns and twists. Like the past few days, a car was waiting for you outside. Vito slipped into the driver’s seat while you went around and climbed into the passenger side.

You immediately connected your phone to sound system. You snickered as you chose the song.

Vito groaned when he heard the opening notes. You could only laugh as the beat started to pick up.

“Ah-ah Barbie you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind. Jump into the driver seat and put it into speed drive,” you sang, directed at Vito. To hear the base a bit more, you turned the volume up. However, when it came to the next verse, and you were about to start yelling, your phone began to ring.

Arthur’s contact photo, one of you at his birthday, popped up. You immediately answered the face time and yelled.

“Dude, you threw off my groove!” His laughs could be heard throughout the car as his face got into the camera range.

“I’m sorry?”

“You should be. What’s up?”

“I wanted to see if you wanted to hang out later tonight? Since I’m here for testing.” You froze and looked at Vito with wide eyes. You quickly pointed your phone towards the roof of the car.

You mouthed, “What do I do?” You were scared. What were you supposed to say? Oh hey Arthur, I actually signed a multi-year contract with Red Bull two days ago. Sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner? You definitely could not do that.

Yet, a slight jut of Vito’s head told you that you could tell him the truth. You inhaled sharply.

“I’m actually not in Paris at the moment.” Arthur paused. . You only hoped that he wouldn’t be mad at you.

“You’re not? I thought you were going to be sim testing.”

“I thought so to. And then I might have gotten a text from…” you muttered the last bit.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” He put a hand to his ear.

You huffed before you shouted, clearly overwhelmed. “I got a text from Christian Horner and I’m driving with Red Bull for 2024!” Your shallowed breaths filled the air. Vito’s hand was placed on your knee for comfort.

“Well, duh. I knew that dummy?”

“Hello?” you could only get out. Who told him?

“You do know that even though my brother may not seem to be friends with Max, they actually are. And Max likes to talk, so he told my brother and my brother told me.” Your eyes must have been bulging.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you sighed, “I didn’t know if I could.”

Arthur responded, “It’s quite alright. It was fun making you panic for a moment.”

“You’re an ass. First you interrupt my wonderful concert that Vito was enjoying…”

“I was not,” Vito leaned towards the phone.

“As I was saying, men the woman is speaking, and then you decide to make me almost spiral into a panic attack. Not nice TurTur.” You wiggled your finger at the screen.

He smiled, “I’m actually here in London as well. Thought you might want some company. And Vito invited me to see you drive tomorrow. I’m waiting in your room.” He showed you a room that was almost identical to the one you had at the hotel. You squealed at the thought of seeing him.

It was a good thing that the car had pulled up to the hotel, because you seat belt flew off in record time. You barely were able to get a quick thank you to the workers before you got to the elevator. You’re sure you pressed the buttons too many times, but the damn thing wouldn’t open any quicker.

The moment the doors open, you bolted inside, but came into contact with a body, that knocked the two of you over. You said a quick apology before darting to the side and getting in the elevator. You barely saw a neon hoodie and some brown curls before the doors closed.

Pressing hard down on your floor button, you willed the elevator to move quicker. After what felt like forever, the box dinged. You dashed down the carpeted hallway as you took your key card out of your pocket.

Although you barely swiped it, the lock beeped and let you into the room.

Arthur was not expecting you to all but tackle him as you dive bombed into his arms. The forced knocked the both of you off the bed. The pile of limbs and bodies that you and your best friend were ended up in a pile on the floor. You could not stop laughing as you held him tighter.

You needed him, especially after these past stressful days. Remembering what he did earlier, you pulled back and started to hit him. His hands raised up and tried to defend against your much smaller hands.

“You” -hit- “are” -smack- “an” -whack- “ass Arthur Leclerc.”

“Ouch woman, you hurt me,” he feigns as he puts a hand on his heart. Your attacks died down as you hauled yourself off the floor. You held out a hand, he took it, and you lifted him as well. But the moment he was upright, you pushed him over on the bed. His giggles left his mouth. Instead of getting up like you thought he would, he snuggled more into your bed.

You might as well join him. Hiking your leg up, you rolled him over some before slotting yourself in the space next to him. He let out a noise of complaint, even though he basically opened you with opened arms.

“I’m glad you’re here. It’s been very stressful,” your words were muffled as you put your head on his chest.

He let out a scoff, “Sure. You’ve been playing around in the top of the line simulator.”

Whack.

“Would you stop that?” he questioned as he dug his fingers into your sides. Laughter soon tumbled out of your lips before you could stop them.

“Arthur, stop it!” You tried to force his hands away. But because of your smaller build, he was able to continue the attacks.

A knock at the door saved your life. You all but rolled off the bed, out of Arthur’s arms, and walked to the door. However, you flipped Arthur off before your hand reached the knob. On the other side of the door, Vito stood with his phone in his hand. He looked up once the door was all the way opened.

“Hi Vito. What’s up?” you asked with head cocked to the side.

“You two up for some karaoke?” He looked over your shoulder at Arthur, who was still sprawled on the bed.

“I’m down for it. Hey Arthur!” you yelled, Vito wincing at the volume.

Arthur’s head popped up. “Yeah?”

“Karaoke?”

He smirked. “Hell yeah.”

A couple of hours later, you found yourself with Arthur in a karaoke room. Vito had been blacked out for a while on the couch.

“COUNTRY ROAD, TAKE ME HOME, TO A PLACE, WHERE I BELONG!” Arthur sang into the very cheap looking microphone.

You continued, sounding as equally bad, “WEST VIRGINA, MOUTAIN MOMMA, COUNTRY ROAD, TAKE ME HoOOoooOOOmE!”

The song ended and you and Arthur took a mock bow.

Arthur chanted, “Next song, next song, next song.” Yeah, he was definitely gone.

“Since you ruined this earlier, I’m picking this one.” You clicked on a button. The familiar beats from earlier that day filled the small room. Arthur groaned from beside you. “Nuh-uh. This is your faut, and now you have to pay the price.”

Half-heartedly, Arthur began to sing, “She my best friend in the whole world.” He pointed at you while singing the lyrics. You placed your hands on your chest and mocked a sincere look. He only shoved your head away and continued.

You decided that standing on the table was a good place to sing the chorus, “AH AH BARBIE YOU’RE SO FINE, YOU’RE SO FINE YOU BLOW MY MIND”

Arthur finally got into it, “JUMP INTO THE DRIVERS SEAT AND PUT IT INTO SPEED DRive…” the music was suddenly shut off.

An angry looking worker walked in and told you to get off the table and to leave for the night. You sheepishly got down, walked over to Vito with Arthur, woke him up, and you three were on your way.

The two of you looked like kids who had to be taken home after getting in trouble with the principal at the school. However, that wouldn’t stop the snickers and giggles that soon filled the whole car, Vito included.

You were glad that it wasn’t too late. The next morning would be terrible if you didn’t have a good night’s sleep.

Arthur made sure to get what time everyone was leaving before retiring to his room for the night. You made sure to post some things on your Instagram story before heading to bed.

You were surprised you had gotten some sleep, because when you woke up, you couldn’t stop shaking. Not know if it was from excitement or nervousness, you got ready quickly. There was a fruit bowl in your room. For breakfast, you indulged in a banana and an orange. Vito probably arranged for a bigger breakfast to be served at the practice track.

You met up with Arthur and Vito in the lobby. You nudged him as you walked passed.

“You ready?” he asked as he followed you to the car that was waiting under the walkway.

“As I’ll every be.” There was a slight hitch in your tone that told Arthur everything he needed to know.

After the two of you climbed into the back seats, and Vito in the passenger seat, Arthur put his arm around you. Just the feeling of his company helped to ease the anxiety that was bubbling inside you. It seemed to grow with each corner that got you closer and closer to the track.

There would be quite a few people there today, more than you would like. But each person was necessary. The track was farther and out of the city.

You knew that Mitch would have your suit and helmet ready for you once you got there. You would be debrief on the track and how the car should behave. You would be doing a mock race, but it would still be shorter than most races – about 50 laps or so.

Your goal that you had gone over with Mitch would be to set one of the fastest test laps. Your time to beat was 1 minute and 19.721 seconds. You thumbs-upped the message and said that you’d try your best.

The car slowed down as it approached the entrance. And before you knew it, you were in your suit and balaclava as Mitch talked with you once more before you started getting in the car. It was one of the newer cars, the RB 17.

You saw Christian approach and you checked over a few more things.

“You like the car?” he asked, nodding his head over to the machine behind him.

“I love it. Can’t wait to see how she drives. Was she driven for any races?” You were curious and wanted to know.

He smirked. “That is Max’s championship car.” Your hands froze, holding your zipper. You looked up at Christian, eyes wide. You gulped.

“Aha, very funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His face was deadpanned.

“Well, I will try to be careful with it.” He only laughed and put a hand on your shoulder.

“You just drive the car like you normally do. The sim showed me everything I need to know.” With that, he walked closer to the wall and put a on a set of headphone.

“No pressure Y/n,” you told yourself. Breathing in and out, you put your helmet on. Arthur decided to walk up and clip the two straps for you, something he often did before your races. You both did your little handshake before he patted you shoulder. He was also given some headphones, along with Vito. They were all counting on you.

You stepped closer to the car. Lifting your leg, you swung it over, then the other. You shimmied down into the car and connected the things that needed to be connected. The men around you started to lower the car and take off the different machinery. You would start the track on medium tires. You were told that after the first half, you could switch to the softs if you think you needed to.

The final parts of the car were put on and you were handed the steering wheel. You carefully placed the connect parts together as you felt the car turned on. You could feel it almost breathing. It was alive.

You were able to taxi the car out onto the mock grid.

“Alright Y/n, radio check,” Mitch’s voice came on through your helmet.

“If I can have a walk up song for Vegas, I heard a rumor that that was coming back, and if I get introduced, can it be Life is a Highway? Please?”

“Radio is working,” Mitch responded.

“Please Mitch?” you prodded. You heard a sigh as you smiled.

“We can discuss later. I will ask Christian.” You did a small pump of your hands before getting back into the zone. From where you were, you had a good view of the lights.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Speed. I am speed.

Red. Red. Red.

Green.

Your feet hit the pedals and off you went for the “warming up” lap. The track had a good mix of straights and turns to warm up the tires.

The first few laps after went smoothly. But, you knew it wasn’t time for your flying lap. To keep it fair, the past drivers only had one lap to set a time.

You pressed the button for the radio, “There seems to be some unbalance on Turn 5. I don’t know if it’s the track or the car.” Your voice sounded rattly.

“Checking,” Mitch responded back at the “pit lane.”

Christian piped up from her right, “Max has said that before about that exact turn. It’s uncanny.”

“Ok kid, it seems like it might be an issue with the track. Try to avoid it by slowing down to go wide, but accelerate going out of the apex.”

“Roger,” you responded. On the next lap, you did exactly that. And you were pleased to see that it actually worked.

“Balance of the car is good.”

“Thank you Y/n.”

“Can I come in for softs? I want to try the flying lap.”

“Ok, box for softs.”

You pulled your car into the pit lane. It wasn’t the fastest pit stop you’ve had, but it really didn’t matter. You did a few laps on the softs. Although you knew the track would eat them up, you also knew that you did your best laps on slightly used softs.

Christian spoke up again, “She knows that softs run out quickly. She should have done the flying lap on the first one.”

Now, Arthur talked first, “She does all of her best laps on slightly used softs. It’s how she’s won so many races. Because Y/n knows her tires better than anyone.” Christian hummed as he watched your dot go around the animated track.

The radio beeped as a message came from your car, “I’m gonna go for it. Starting the flying lap.”

Mitch responded, “Copy.” The team waited with baited breath and you seemed to glide around the turns.

You were truly one with whatever car you drove.

The clocked seemed to tick in slow motion as you finally came to the last straight. Once you passed the line, you slowed down just a bit.

“Ok Mitch, how did I do?” you asked.

She breathed before responding, “One minute, nineteen point 7 seconds. Congratulations kid, you have broken our current record. Your cheers could be heard over the radio. They mixed with the team’s own cheering as well. You were just .021 seconds faster than whoever held the previous record. And you did it in a two, almost, three year old car.

“Who used to hold the position?”

This time, Christian’s voice came on over the radio, “It was Max, kid.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief, before realizing that Christian was on the radio.

“Christian, can my walk up song for Vegas be Life is a Highway. Please.” You waited for his answer.

“Sure kid.”

“Yes! Best day ever! Can I got another lap? I want to put this baby into speed drive. Vito! Arthur!”

“On it kid.”

“Got it Y/n!”

You guessed one of them held their phones to the radio. This time you would hear the entire song. You knew it. You shimmied back down into the seat and floored the throttle.

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #alex albon x reader

743 notes · View notes

axelsagewrites · 3 months

Text

Micheal Gavey*Crunchy

Pairing: Micheal Gavey x popular!reader

Word count: 1191

Warnings: none

A/n: the V-day posts are officially beginning

Masterlist Here

As much as you loved your friends, they were all terrible study partners so as usual you waved your goodbyes to Felix and Farleigh and headed to the library. You made a point to go everyday even if you didn’t have much to study for. Sometimes it was only for 10 minutes sometimes a couple hours.

You quickly sat your stuff down at the same table you always sat at before looking round the shelves for the book you needed. when you returned you went to sit down but paused when you saw the crunchy sitting on your seat. You quickly glanced around the room, but everyone was so involved in their own books, so you assumed someone must’ve just left it here. You sat it on the desk before getting to work.

The next day another crunchy sat on your seat however this time you noticed it before you even sat your stuff down. You looked around and your eyes fell on a blonde boy at the end of the table, “Hey,” you whispered, hoping the librarian wouldn’t kill you for talking, “Was anyone sitting here before?” you asked.

He stared at you, unmoving for a solid few seconds before shaking his head no. you let out a quiet hum of confusion before taking your seat and starting on your essay. You left the crunchy sitting on the desk however an hour into studying and suddenly feeling very hungry you decided finders’ keepers and opened the bar.

The next day there was another crunchy. Again, you sat it on the desk and ended up eating it halfway through your visit. By day six however you were opening it as soon as you sat down. When you told Farleigh about it, he commented how easy it would be to poison you, but Felix had a different conspiracy theory.

“Maybe you have a secret admirer,” he teased, very loudly might you add, as you sat at the pub having drinks.

“With a crunchy obsession,” Farleigh snorted.

You sighed at your friend before turning your attention back to Felix and his huge grin, “You’re mental,”

“When did you say they started?” Farleigh asked when he noticed something on his phone.

You paused before answering, “Thursday I think,”

“Thursday the first?”

“Um yeah I think so why?” you said and while Farleigh looked at you like you were stupid an even bigger grin took over Felix face.

“Oh, shit man that’s so sweet,” he said, slapping your arm which hurt way more than he realised, “Its almost Valentine’s day how cute,” he beamed.

“More like stalkerish,” Farleigh said earning a quick jab from Felix, “Cmon I’m just looking out for her. what if its some creep following her?”

“No ones following me. I don’t have a secret admirer. You both are crazy. And I’m getting a drink,” you told them, getting up and ignoring Felix’s pleas for shots as you headed to the bar.

You ended up waiting beside a tall, though not as tall as Felix, blonde boy when suddenly it clicked, “Hey do I know you?” you asked as you waited your turn but before he could stutter his answer it clicked, “Wait you’re the boy from the library,”

He nodded, an awkward silence falling over you both before he finally added, “I’m Micheal. I see you there. Sometimes,”

“Yeah, I saw you as well. you’re in there more than me,” you joked just as the bartender came over, “He was first,”

“Its okay, you go first,” he stuttered, and you couldn’t help finding it incredibly cute.

The crunchies continued all the way till the 13th and now you were wondering if Felix had been, for once, right. It was now valentines and despite all your friends telling you going to the library alone on valentines was the most virgin thing ever you had to find out if he was right.

You felt oddly nervous as you approached the library. What if it was a creep? Hell, what if it was a really cute guy and you made a fool of yourself? You sighed as you pushed away the thoughts and walked in.

You actually paused in your tracks for a moment when you saw Micheal sat right by your usual spot. You shrugged it off as you walked it and put a smile on your face. However, it faltered for a moment when you realised there was no crunchy on the seat. “Do you mind if I sit? Sorry its just routine,” you joked as you walked up to the desk.

Micheal nodded silently so you took your seat and got to work. Well not that you had much to do. You were going to a valentine’s party tonight, so you’d actually completed all your work last night, but you didn’t want to look like a freak who only came to see if a stranger had left a crunchy. You grabbed a random book from the shelves and pretended to study for around 30 minutes before deciding to just go.

However just as you went to stand up Micheal’s hand shot out, “Wait!” he said and for once no shushing was heard since even the librarian hadn’t come in today. Hell apart from Micheal the whole place was empty, “I um have something for you,” he said as he fished something out of his bag, “Here,” he said, handing you the golden bar.

A small smile took over your face, you couldn’t help it, “Was it sat her before or…?” you asked, your voice trailing off when you saw the nervous look on your face.

“No, it was um. It was me, leaving the crunchies. I thought you might’ve needed the energy boost,” he said, mumbling by the end.

“That’s really sweet of you,” you said, sitting back down despite the blush spreading on his cheeks, “How come you never said anything?”

“I didn’t want you to laugh at me,”

“Why would I laugh?” you asked, your head tilted to the side which Micheal found far too endearing, “To be honest I was kinda hoping it would be you,” you said, filling in the silence.

“Really?” Micheal said, a smile shooting onto his lips, “I didn’t know if you knew who I was,”

“I see you around all the time,” you said, eyebrows scrunching in confusion, “I just never wanted to interrupt you. you always seemed really into your maths,” another small smile tugged at his lips.

Micheal paused, looking like he wanted to say something but also through up so you gave him another smile and finally he said it, “Would you like to go out with me sometime? If you’re not too busy or anything,”

A wide grin spread across your face, “Yeah I’d love to,” you said, and his smile grew so wide his cheeks might pop.

“Okay great. Are you free tonight?” he said, shyness now completely gone making you laugh but you nodded yes. Felix and Farleigh could survive without you for one night, “I could meet you outside the dinning hall at six and we could go out somewhere,”

“It’s a date,”

Taglist sign up here

General taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate @justtilly @jjkjbhj @clairacassidy @valeskafics @perla434 @selenestar78 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @urfavnoirette @randomstory56 @qardasngan

Saltburn taglist: @cdragons @artemis0054 @spiritofbuddha @zaldritzosrose @jasenialovesjinx @hunky-sad-eyed-sex-machine @jxnellat @agustdeeyaa @artemis0054 @remuslovebot

#micheal gavey x reader #micheal gavey #micheal gavey imagine #micheal gavey fluff #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #saltburn fluff #ewan mitchell x reader

281 notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 1 year

Text

eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷

This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

#honey i’m home #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #eddie x you angst #Eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you fluff

1K notes · View notes