#michael gavey x fem!reader

[venmondiese]

This party is boring... wanna leave?

✧ masterlist ✧ taglist ✧

Summary: The party you are in is boring, so you ask a cute nerd guy to leave with you... that is, until you find out this is his birthday party.  Maybe a gift and a happy birthday will fix his sad evening.

✧Pairing: Michael Gavey x Fem!Reader

✧Warnings: MDNI 18+, p in v, virginity loss, oral (m receiving), overall sweet, michael being a total nerd virgin.

✧Word Count: 7.8k

✧AO3 link: here

note: so i saw this tweet in my 2020 ig histories and i said... michael gavey coded, and here we are. Here is the original tweet (wendy and joy from red velvet haha) and AGAIN this is infinite i swear i am allergic to write things under 5k

Michael couldn’t be more excited. He looks proudly at the poster indicating the date and place of his birthday. 

Nothing too glamorous, he rented one of the halls for hire in Oxford, the same one that they used for the Christmas party that (to no one’s surprise) he wasn’t invited. But he intended to do something fun about it, with the pool table and maybe some game algebraic beer pong. Who knows? It was his birthday, so he did the rules.

And he had a few friends he could invite, of course, renting a whole hall seems…. exaggerated, but truly, he couldn’t get a pool table in his room. He paid for this only for the pool table. Besides, he liked his Norman no mates friends. Friends if you could call them that; they were as friend to him as Oliver Quick once was. Just that this once… he won’t get too attached.

Well, ‘friends’ would actually be mates from the chess club, so they weren’t exactly popular these days. They barely had a girl in the group, so they weren’t great with girls either. Besides, the only other girl that he knew had agoraphobia so… it wasn’t happening. 

His mum made some little biscuits and cupcakes for his day, since she came to have a little celebration just for him and her in a near-by cafe at college. He could skip a few classes to be with his mum on his birthday, after all. 

The night started interestingly. The space was obviously much larger than what he thought it could be, so they hung around the couch and the pool table. He felt the victory as he won two chess matches and a pool game. Maybe it was birthday luck, since everything was coming up as great.

As they talked about which opening was their favourite, Michael heard a little knock. Once he approached the crystal door, he saw Oliver with Felix by his side, with some liquor bottles. 

Michael frowned a bit, as he was pretty sure he rented the room, he did it with a lot of anticipation and made sure no one else did before him. And it was crystal clear that he didn’t invite Oliver. Sure, in their friendship, he once or twice talked about doing something about his birthday, but he never invited Oliver. 

“Hey Mikey” Oliver says, with an shit eating grin, and Michael has to roll his eyes, by how smug and prideful he looked. An absolute jerk, if you asked him. Oliver didn’t even wear his glasses anymore, and was all parties and relevancy thanks to Felix. “Come on”

Before Michael could stop them, Oliver passes by his side, as Felix follows him patting Michael’s shoulder with a smirk (he could swear it was in a patronising way) and people follow from behind as Oliver looks in the room for the music speaker of the rented room.

Michael walked as the crowd quickly dispersed, and he grabbed the few gifts he received, and looked at his distressed mates. 

“Oliver you cannot be here, I rented the room” Michael screams as the room noise is quick to appear, so different from the silence of their small reunion. 

“I saw your pamphlet” Oliver says nonchalantly as he successfully manages to get the aux cable. “Birthday, eh?” He says mockingly

“I rented it! You have to get out” He says almost screaming, as the same way he did once they met, when he asked Oliver to say a sum for him to say.

“If you can get all of us out, mate… sure” Oliver shrugs, clearly not minding.

Michael looks defeated. Even if he stands there, angry, with the few gift bags on his hands, he feels embarrassed. He wanted to do one nice thing for himself, just once. It wasn’t as cheap to rent a hall for his birthday (he couldn’t do it anywhere else, truly, but he thinks that maybe the pub would have been nice even if few of his mates didn’t drink beer)

The room fills very quickly, sitting on the couches and talking as they get vases with something to drink, or beer cans.

“Michael” two of his friends approach him, and he looks at them “We could rescue the biscuits and the cake” They say proudly as they have it in his hands. 

He couldn’t fake to look at least smug, so he nods a bit numbly. “Yeah, sure.” He says a bit disoriented, looking around “The rest left?”

“This was not a party, we assumed…” 

“Not really our thing. Though Tim and Steve stayed to see if they could get any girls” 

Michael hums, and he doesn’t know what to exactly think, since he didn’t expect this. He was organised, he liked things to be as he already planned. It made him secure, and it was only logical. But this interruption made him anxious.

“I gotta save the pool balls” He says to his friends “They are going to fine me if I lose one of them” 

“What… we do with this?” His friend asks about the food.

“Uhm… take the biscuits with you…” Michael says. “And the cake… leave it on the library next to the pool table, and hide it… please” 

As he collects the pool balls, and walks upstairs to return them, he is very downhearted. He remembers the time that he invited his friends from school and only his cousins and his neighbour appeared to his party; very embarrassing and he hated celebrating his birthday with a party ever since. It was mostly his mum and granny, with his dog and cat. Nothing else, nothing too fancy.

He comes back for the cake as he tries to explain the situation to the people that manage the rented halls, there was not much for them to do, and he is suspicious that maybe Oliver or Felix paid them to keep the room. At least they promised not to charge if anything broke, and he was happy with that.

So, money wasted, party ruined and they couldn’t even sing to him happy birthday. 

He walks from between the crowd as he steals a beer. Fuck it, it wasn’t eve stealing since they ruined his party. He takes a break, since he feels really discouraged. He knows his mates are not really social butterflies, but more leaning to being socially anxious. He might need to apologise, and even face the idea that they might be annoyed at him, and maybe they’ll kick him out from the chess team.

He drinks his beer, looking at how Oliver and Felix hyped the whole thing out, people sitting on the pool table… He hopes his cake is intact. He looks at his beer can as he move it a little to stir the liquid (he totally doesn’t want to look miserable AND like an imbecile)

“Hey” A voice calls him as he drinks from his beer. He has to look up to the prettiest girl that has ever approached him, probably. You wear a pink pleated mini skirt, with a short baby pink hoodie that he could see your bright pink bra underneath. God, it was a lot of pink in one person. 

You look at him as he blinks a bit, and you look at him with an alluring smile as if waiting for him to say something, and once he doesn’t, you continue.

“This party is kinda boring” you start saying, with a soft smile and a bright in your eyes as you look at him, doing all your best efforts to flirt with him “Do you wanna leave together?”

Michael blinks a bit as he looks at you, trying to process the words in his head but he fails. “Uh… this is my birthday party” he admits embarrassed and awkwardly, as he looks away to not face the shame, and he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Oh” you say looking at him, your smile fading a bit, a bit worried about your comment. “Oh, I’m sorry” you say, grabbing his forearm. “Didn’t mean to be rude”

“No problem” he says, looking at how your hand rests on his forearm, almost caressing it slowly. 

“I suppose you didn’t invite all these people, did you? It was kind of a last minute call” you say looking at him, actually interested in him. “You seem pretty out of place for that”

“No… It was for me and my mates” 

“Ohh…” You say looking around, and you feel a bit of pity, which he doesn’t want nor needs. “Well, I would have brought a gift.” You say, trying to cheer him up “What is your name?”

Did they send you to make fun of him? Must be.

“Michael Gavey” He says, and he refuses to look at you, not to give you or them the satisfaction.

“Michael” you repeat, and you tell him your name too. “You are cute” you add.

He blushes and looks at you as if you just insulted him, his eyes open and he frowns a bit. He turns his head away in shame.

“Thank you” he murmurs, not sure of what to think. 

“So… your birthday is today.” You say tapping your thighs a bit. “How… randomly, I didn’t know”

“I like my birthday” He murmurs, drinking his beer hesitantly “Tis’ the day of Pi” 

“Day of Pie?” You ask frowning, your arms in your back as you lean in the wall. 

“Of Pi” he repeats “Like the pi from maths”

“Ohh, the circle thing” You say nodding and smiling, as you now understand. “Why is it the day of pi..? Ohh, it is because today it’s fourteen of March”

“Yeah” He says, as he looks at his shoes a bit embarrassed. He usually would think you were stupid, who the fuck confuses Pi with Pie? But you were the only one caring enough. 

“You seem to like maths, like your.. Your shirt” you say pointing it out at his maths pun, and he becomes aware that he has been, in fact, wearing that shirt all the time. 

Fuck, did he really fought with Oliver and with the rental people with a Math pun shirt? No wonder no one took him seriously.

“Ah, yeah…” He says awkwardly. You were very much engaging in the conversation, scooping on his interests little by little. 

“Do you know that I am flirting with you, right?” You say looking at him in the eyes and he looks from his shoes to your face, a bit surprised and panicked.

“Ehm… me? What for?”

“Because you are cute, like I said” you repeat “And it is your birthday”

“You don’t have to pity me because of that…”

“I am not pitying you. It is not why I like you. Come on, do you think I am pretty at least?” You ask as you change your body weight from one foot to the other while looking at him with the most alluring smile he has ever seen. 

God, the question sounds stupid, because you are not only pretty, but you are the hottest girl ever, looking at him as he freezes in place. Your eyes could trap him, as enchanting as they were, and your diminutive clothing was driving him insane. 

“Eh… yes” he murmurs. “Very pretty…”

He seems perplexed about the straightforwardness of this whole thing, and he is very confused. Where has this night taken him?

“I meant what I said. The party… is meh. You and I could leave together, if you want” 

He blinks, as his tongue wets his lips as he suddenly feels frozen in place. His eyes look at your expression as if you were joking, and he is unsure what to think.

“Uh… well, I have to get my cake, really, m-my mates saved it on the back of the library in hopes nobody would find it..:” He starts saying, not really sure why he is telling you this.

“Okay, we’ll search it�� you say without any problem about it. “I could sing happy birthday to you and you can blow the candles”

That’s how you are now following him like a puppy, as he takes out the cake from behind some decorations that weren't hiding the cake very well, but it is mostly intact. 

You two walk together, to leave and Michael thinks that never felt so ashamed. He felt like doing the shame walk, as he passed through the people with a fucking birthday cake and a pretty girl following him.

“Let’s go to your dorm!” You tell him with a happy smile, your hand on his shoulder as you lean closer to tell him that as you both walk together.

He is confused how you’ll give him a gift if they weren’t in your room, but he accepts, as his dorm isn’t actually so far away from the rented halls, so he guides you upstairs, and upstairs, at the point where he hears you whine because of your heels.

You look a bit amazed as he enters his dorm, leaving the cake on his desk and moving to turn on the bedside lamp. He looks around, and you are taking off your heels and being just in socks. He blinks as he looks at you. Doing that means she’s comfortable here, he thinks. 

“Ah, eh…. Have a seat in the…” You sit on the edge of his bed, next to his pillows and he blinks. He wanted to say ‘in the desk chair’ but he guessed it was too late.

“Your bed is comfortable” You say smiling as you pat your right side for him to sit by your side. “Come, sit!”

Michael blinks. He dries his sweat palm by rubbing his hands on his thighs a bit awkwardly, as he takes a seat on the edge of his bed by your side. Your legs were tucked under your body, already comfortable, while he is rigid and tense, all awkwardness in comparison.

“And your mates are still at the party?” You ask looking at him, batting your eyelashes at him with a sweet smile as you lean your body weight to your hand, right beside him.

“Uhm… eh, well, they told me they left, so it was a bit rushed… I don’t know, I could call them if you.. Want to sing to me happy birthday and that…” he says a bit hesitant, and he is a bit unsure of his words when you chuckle a bit, if you knew a secret “B-Because we couldn’t… I mean we didn’t have the time for that, and my mum bought that cake because it is my favourite..:” he rambles as his cheeks are pink with embarrassment.

You were divine. In more than one way, you were the prettiest girl that he had ever talked to. And you were also the first girl in his dorm. And this close to him. And the first one to be interested in him. 

“Ah, of course… I bet it is tasty, it is sweet that your mum bought it for your party” You say smiling, as you look at him “Well, I don’t think we should call them here”

“Uh… Why not? We aren’t many, we are just seven, and with you we would be a pair number, so we could play a chess match since we are a pair. If you don’t know I could teach you” He offers. God, why did he accept this? Because you were pretty and all smiles with him, but he didn’t know what women like you liked…

“It’s not that, Mikey” you say softly, looking at him with an alluring smile, leaning slightly closer to him, which is dangerous, because it is the moment he has to decide if to look at your face or your tits. “It is because I wanna give you a gift”

Michael blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah… It would be awkward if they were here”

His mind is numb, and he looks at you a bit confused “... Because they already gave me a gift?”

You have to suppress a laugh, as you shake your head and look down a bit. He takes the opportunity to look at your tits briefly.

“No…” You say again, with that damn tone that he can’t decipher. “You are not really good at hints, are you?”

He stays silent, looking at you as he tries to get it. “Eh… no, but I am really good at maths…”

You chuckle a bit, as you look at his face with a look he (again) cannot decipher. 

“Of course you are” you say sitting slightly closer, and he stays still as he looks at you and your tits coming closer to him “Your birthday it is in the day of Pi” you made sure to say the last word correctly, emphasising on it, and he nods a bit. 

“Yeah…” he murmurs looking at you as he licks his lips, and his glasses slide ever so slightly on his nose as he has to look down at your face

“I wanna give you a gift…” you repeat, and it is now that he feels your hand slide to his thigh and closer to his crotch. And his breath freezes on his throat as he feels your hand move slowly to rub his dick from above his clothes, and the traitor practically gets hard instantly at something that isn't his own hand. 

Michael practically freezes at your touch, as your hand slowly rubs his jeans where his erection was forming. Your eyes look at him as you smile, god, you were so provocative it made his brain go off. He couldn't take his eyes out of your face as he opened his mouth to pant a bit, a bit unsure of if to stop this or make it keep going.  It is not like he doesn’t want to do… this, but a little part of him still thinks you are just mocking him and probably there were popular jerks waiting outside to make fun of him for falling for someone so out of his league. 

But you were so pretty, lookin at him with tender eyes. As he seems so hesitant about it all. It wasn’t like he didn’t want this, but he just… wasn’t sure what to do, because this was confusing all his thoughts. How could he even impress you? 

It is you who leans to capture his lips. On yours with a kiss, slow and calm, since he was so inexperienced. It was his first kiss, as a girl rubs his cock. He surely was dreaming. 

“Do you want it?”

He blinks confused, his lips briefly open and all flustered as your hands keep on hardening his cock. “Um… yes” He swallows hard as his eyes are closed due to how good (and strange) it feels. To have a girl doing this with him.

“You’ve done this before?” You ask looking at his eyes, and his glasses are sliding on his nose and he doesn’ even notice, and your hand pat his cock which makes him whimper a bit. 

“Eh… yes, but with myself. I mean, b-by myself, like with my hand, that is…”

You giggle at his naiveness, and you add “I meant if you have ever had sex”

Michael looks at you surprised, and he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose again. You were so direct, and this was unlike anything that had happened in his life. You confused him, with your plays and teases, he was more simple, and more straightforward. “No…” He whispers in reply, breathing a little heavily now as you squeeze him through his pants. 

Your smile is confusing, since he doesn’t know what it means. Well, he doesn’t get the clue to. Most things you do anyways. “It is your birthday” you repeat “My treat, I’ll make you feel so good, Mikey”

He looks down at his pants as you unbuckle his belt. There was something about you, so seductive and sensual as you did all torturously slow. You weren’t rushed, and even did it for his sake, as he looked so frozen by it all. 

You turn your head to look up to him as you also zip down his pants. He tried to think about anything else, because he felt on fire.

“Can you take these off?” You ask him kindly, and he looks. Briefly confused. “I really wanna suck you off”

Oh god. He almost cums on his pants. Oh god.  He repeats on his mind as he moves a bit to take off his pants, at least to his knees. Oh god, oh god. His mind tried to remain sane, he tried to think about some maths, the comfort of simple logic tries to centre himself. 

You look pleasantly surprised by his size, and you hummed in delight and he saw how you bite your lower lip. His cocks spring free, fully hard and the precum leaking out from the tip. He looked nervously at you, as his cock practically begged your attention and affections, and he could feel a turmoil form on his stomach as he pleaded with his eyes for you to do something about it. 

“So big…” you praise him with a smirk, and he looks away in shame as he blushes. It was a good thing, he thinks, but he cannot help but feel hesitant.

You gently grab the base as your left hand rests on his left thigh, helping you as you lean down to capture the tip on your mouth, and he leans slightly back as if trying to squirm away. He looks at you, overwhelmed at the warm and moist sensation around his cock, ever so slightly, but so intense at the same time. He pants as if he just ran a marathon, looking down at you as his balls tighten and feel so ready to cum. But he forces himself not to.

“Oh… A-Ah, fuck…” he says as you take his dick out of your mouth to lick it, from his balls to his tip. God, no one really prepares you to know how easy it is to cum when a girl sucks you off.

He tries to think of equations, some diagrams or anything, anything to not cum so fast. You have his cock again in your mouth, sucking on his tip and your tongue moves to tease him as well. He was going insane.

He looks at you, with your bright eyes full of delight and mischief looking up back at him, as his cock was deeper and deeper on your throat, making its way through your warm mouth. 

And you didn’t seem to mind how the drool was spilling out from your mouth, wettening your chin and how you gagged slightly the more deep you swallowed him. He was amazed, truly, looking down at you as you sucked him off. 

It was different from how he imagined. He thought that at his first time, he would lead the way, he would be confident (because he knew about porn and how these things worked) and he would be dominant enough. Yet now, he feels unsure, trembling as his balls shaked in need to release, because you were amazing and so hot. 

Maybe he didn’t know a thing about this all. He thinks, as his shoulders tense from how good the head of his cock feels in your warm throat. It sends shivers on his spine and he has to whimper pathetically. 

“You are so perfect…, I swear” He mumbles without breath, whimpering pathetically. You would have giggled, because he didn’t need to swear, but he was cute to do so.

You move your hand to take the hair out of his face, and you grab his right hand, and he doesnt get at first what you mean, until you let his hand on your hair, it is when he understands that you want him to guide you and move his hips. 

His own hips hesitate at the beginning , strange at how he is supposed to move without looking ridiculous or being uncomfortable. Instead, he takes your hair carefully, with both hands as he leaves a deep breath out. 

His little whimpers are amazing, and so hot, you love to hear it. It was almost quiet, very low, but it was a delight to hear how he whimpers as his cock twitches in your mouth.

He moves your hair up and down on his body, fucking your face slowly. He didn’t want to be reckless, and when you needed to, he allowed you to have air from time to time. 

His balls were on fire, and his dick was so hard and it felt so good as you deepthroated him that he was at the verge of cumming. 

“I’m… oh, I'm going to cum, m’sorry…” he whimpers, moving your head onto his cock more harshly, but still careful not to make a mess and make you choke on his cock. He would feel bad if he hurt you like that, especially when you do him a favour.

His hips hesitate as he starts cumming, and he releases your head because he guesses it could be overwhelming. But you do not back away, rather swallow all of his spending in your mouth, savouring it delighted as you looked up to him, and he opened his mouth in awe. 

You were his wettest dream come true.

What are the chances, the possibility that a pretty girl like you, just looked at him and decided to do this? To give him the best head ever? To help him lose his virginity, thinking he is worth the chance when you are out of his league? 

He is a man of mathematics and logic. And even being good at probability, he knew the chances were almost zero. Almost.

And you looked so brightly at him as you cleaned some of his cum dripping down from your chin and licking it, not to waste a bit. 

“It… it was good?”

“Yeah” you say without a breath, as you smile. “I love your dick, it is so… amazing” He can almost cum again when he sees you lick your lips.

“Oh.” He says a bit flustered, his mind almost numb from his orgasm. “T-Thank you…” 

It is your smile who makes him smile a bit, awkwardly and with his cheeks red. He cannot believe this is luck. He is dumb struck, looking at your lovely face with still red cheeks and a wide smile. And you just sucked him off.

He is guilty, and he looks down at your tits for a brief moment, but looks quickly at your face, as if ashamed of doing that. But you still have that alluring smile, looking at him. He still doesn’t get what it means, but he goes along with the flow. 

“You wanna see my tits?” You ask with a sweet tone, as if it was the normalest question ever. You have seen his eyes drop to your breasts and then to your face, it was cute.

Oh my god. He will likely cum immediately at the sight. He knows it, and his cheeks are red as he thinks of your question.

“Yeah, please…” He asks without breath, as he accommodates in bed trying for his cock not to give him away. 

“I would have worn something way cuter if I knew this was going to happen” You explain taking out your jacket, and to his no-surprise, you didn’t wear a shirt underneath, just the bright pink bra that poked out of your jacket. 

“You look beautiful” he murmurs looking at your still clothed breasts, and he then looks up to your face. “You… If this is your less fancy outfit, then god damn me” 

You giggle at his words, he surely was odd from all the guys you knew. Perhaps his lack of experience, perhaps his nerdy personality. You don’t know, but you find yourself wanting to do all filthy and kinky things with this nerdy man.

You take off your bra, with quickness, as he looks at you completely mesmerised by your nakedness in front of him. He blinks at your perky nipples completely to his sight, and his mind just goes off. He is pretty sure that if you asked him what 1 plus 1 was, he’d say a pair of fine tits.

“You can touch me, Mikey” you say with a teasing tone, that makes him look at your expression for a brief moment. “Like you can grope my tits and all…”

The boldness of her offer makes him salivate, he is sure, and the desire within him is just intense and he knows he has to. His left hand reaches out cautiously and grasps your right breast. 

Your soft sigh is enough for him to do it slightly more confidently, but still not too harsh. He doesn’t actually know how hard it hurts if someone gropes too aggressively, and so he prefers to be gentle with you, because you deserve all of it. 

“Here. Give me your other hand” You say, and before you can extend your hand to grab his, his right hand goes to your other breasts, as if he was waiting for it.

Your breath hitches before you giggle a bit, as he doesn’t understand you. His face is red, from embarrassment, from touching a girl, a very much real girl that desires him too, and from awkwardness in him.

“I meant, give me your hand” You say taking his right hand from your breast and he doesn’t wanna let go, but he does anyway. “I wanna… Mm. I wanna to show you something”

Again with coded words, he was unaware of its meaning. But he waited for you to tell him, as you looked at him with a smile as you waited for him to say it.

“Oh, uh…” Michael mutters as his brain finally took notice it was his turn to say something. “Eh… okay? Show me…” he says unsure what to say.

You guide his left hand down, under your skirt. He just noticed that you had not taken off your skirt yet, as he was still clothed and with his pants down. But he didn’t mind it so much as you pressed his hand against your clothed pussy. 

“You.. Y-You are really wet” he says slightly amazed, and you nod with a smile as he just leaves his hand there, a bit amazed as his fingers do the slightest move to spread the wetness on his fingers. You hum in delight as you feel how bold he might be becoming. 

“Yeah, I am” you nod to him with a smile, and he looks at you flustered, as he leaves an awkward chuckle. “And your cock is hard again”

He looked down at his dick, and in fact, he was getting hard again. He looked back at you, and he smiled a bit embarrassed. You were also smiling, and that was the only clue he got to know that you were having the time of your life.

“It’s because you are so hot…” he says in a weak attempt to justify himself. “and so pretty”

You laugh, as you kneel slightly to take off your skirt and kick it somewhere in his bedroom. You were only wearing your panties now, and he felt like a salivating dog wagging his tail at the sight. God he was pathetic.

He looked at you, and before he could try to do anything, you say.

“It will be better if you sit properly in the bed, not the edge. So you can lean back in the pillows”

He has no idea why he should lean back in the pillows, but again, he is not the one doing demands in this. In his eyes, you are doing him a favour, this was his wettest dream, and you surely got nothing from it.

He takes off his pants and he crawls to sit in the bed, his back against the pillows (he used at least three, he found it more comfortable) and so he watched at you with a smile, as you kneel up again, now to take off your panties.

“I swear that if i knew, I would have worn a prettier pair of underwear” you start teasingly, as you move your hands to the sides of your panties to take them off.

Oh god, he thinks once again, as the image of a naked woman is enough to send him into numbness again. He was just gaining confidence to take some part in this, but he was just so inexperienced, he had to decide on either cum desperately or trying to last longer, and he didn’t know that the last took all of his brain energy.

“Here” You say, grabbing his hand and leaving your panties in his hand. He looks at you, and you add “Another gift. You can keep it” 

He looks at you, slightly amazed by it. He holds your panties in his hand, and he can feel the wetness of it, knowing that you were (and are) so wet right now drives him insane. He looks at you and he blinks a bit surprised, and honestly, much more aroused. 

“Thank you..” he says as he appreciates this odd gift. He has no idea what use it may have apart from the sentimental one, but maybe it is like his own trophy? 

You get comfortable, still kneeling on the bed, you crawl to be atop of his lap. Each knee on the side of his thighs, and he has to look up to see you. Maybe his favourite part about this is how your tits are in front of his face. He loves it.

“Your hand” She asks, and when she extends her hand he is clever enough not to make the same mistake twice. He passes her his hand, and she guides it to her pussy once again.

Now he knows. Why men went to war for women. Why Troy was destroyed, for stealing one woman. Why men went insane for the touch of a woman. He gets it now. 

Your pussy drips wet as he touches it; bare and warm. He is surprised, in all honesty, as his fingers are rigidly moving forward and back. It is not rough; but it is rigid enough to let know his inexperience in the matter.

“I wanna make you feel good” He says looking at you, almost begging for you to teach him how. He wants to know the secrets that could have you squirm and moan crazily over him, as he was over you. 

“This is about you” You say, your hands moving to the edge of his shirt, to take it off from him. He helps you in it, and he leaves a breath as now both of you were naked in front of each other.

Your soft hand caresses his chest. He is no muscular guy; yet you caress him so tenderly that he has to look at you with that puppy look. He really wants to make you feel good.

“Tell me what to do.” He asks again, he looks pathetically needy to you; eager to make you cum on his fingers, and eager to learn how to please you.  His fingers linger hesitantly around your pussy, and he does his best guiding himself from little experience and instinct. 

You smirk as you bite your lower lip as you let a little whimper out. He was cute and hot, more than most guys you knew from before. Maybe getting with the nerd was a fantastic idea.

“I want you to fuck me” You say instead, smiling at him “I want your cock, not your fingers- for now. Besides, this is about you. You are the birthday boy”

As your hips lower on his lap, he takes off his fingers and looks at you sitting above his cock. You grind slightly as he opens his mouth agape slightly, the mere thought of fucking you has him all excited, and aroused.

“I do wanna.. Do that” Michael says with a longing smile, as you nod to him. The feeling of your pussy rubbing against his own dick. He can’t take it anymore, he longs for you too much. 

He is clumsy as he moves his hips, the head of his cock passing eagerly through your folds in search of your entrance, and he looks up at you as you moan at the feeling. He got something right. 

His puppy eyes catch your attention as his tip presses on your centre, and you look down at him a bit breathlessly. “You can’t cum so fast, Mikey. I want you to enjoy it” He nods when you tell him that, and he leaves a shaky breath at the feeling. 

“I… I’ll try…” He says looking at you, trying his best to hold back. But your body is too tempting for him. He is going to pass out, surely.

You move to search for something in your clothes, and you take a condom from somewhere. He isn’t too sure. He is looking at the ceiling waiting for you as he thinks on some hard equation from class, and he tries for the burning turmoil on his belly, full of lust and desire to calm down even a bit. He wants to have you moaning on his cock so hard, he will need strength.

Your movement is fluid when you put the condom on his length, and he is sure you have done this so many times. On other occasions, he’ll think something witty about it, but now he is rather intimidated. How is he supposed to compete with your experiences?

You move your hips slightly, as you start to sit down on his cock from one move. Slow and soft, he is sure you make sure it isn’t so intense for him, as your walls have a tight grip on his hard cock, and the feeling of finally being inside of a woman is incredibly intimate. His cock pulsates on your insides, and he has to look down, enjoying the sight of his thick cock stretching your pussy.

“Fuck…” You say breathlessly as you throw your head back, moaning in delight as you move your hips slightly.

“You’re so warm… and thigh..” he pants, his hands go to your hips as you ride him. 

“It feels nice?”

“More than that” He says looking up to you, and he whimpers as you move your hips. 

“I’ll let you get used to it.” You tell him softly “I think it could be a bit overwhelming, I guess”

“Yeah. A bit” he says with an awkward smile which makes you smile too, and you grab his cheeks as you lean a bit to kiss him softly. 

His enthusiasm is endearing, as he tries to passionately kiss you, but you are sticking with the slowness of it all. He whimpers a bit on your mouth as he can feel how your cunt tightens around him. 

Once you are apart, his glasses are again slowly sliding down on the bridge of his nose and you bite your lower lip as you hold a moan. God, what a hot nerd you are fucking.

“You are so amazing” He murmurs, looking up to you “And you feel so good…”

“Uh huh…” You hum as you whimper a bit, and so does he. 

“And I have… I have never done this before…” He mutters looking at where your pussy swallows his dick.

“I know” You say, giving him a peck. “But you make me so aroused, so hot…”

Michael blinks a bit confused, but he gains slight confidence in this. He nods at you and he lets his hands fall by the side of your legs, and he can only focus on the way that you ride him. You squeeze him, in all the way he can think of. Your cunt is squeezing his shaft. Your knees are squeezing his legs. All of your existence squeezes him, and he loves the feeling. 

He looks up at your face, you are moaning openly and you have your eyes closed as your hands rest on his biceps, helping you bounce on his cock. You look amazing. 

And your tits, God, your tits. Bouncing on his face as you ride him, all perky and perfect for him, and the sight of your tits make him leak more precum in the condom, as he tilts his hips slightly up so he gets deeper in the warmth of your cunt.

He stays looking at you, while his balls are tightening at how wet your pussy is. He is mesmerised by you, he cannot even find himself letting any sound out of his mouth. He is almost numb, looking at you as he makes you moan like this. 

He is making you moan desperately as you ride him. He is the one responsible to see how aroused he truly has you. You lean your body closer to his chest, moaning as you ride him, and he bites his lip desperate to cum. 

His own hips rut back to yours, thrusting clumsily as you sink down on his cock. Your pussy clenches around his cock, and he’s fully engrossed in the sensation.

Michael wants to cum so bad. He doesn’t think he has ever been in such a need to cum.It’s all his foggy mind can think of, cumming and you. And cumming in you, those two subjects interrelationate. 

“Tell me” He pleads, which makes you look at him again “Please, tell me how to make you cum”

His puppy eyes, how his glasses are slightly off on him, makes you moan almost on his face. 

“Your hand” You say, and he got the clue now. He is a quick learner, and instead of letting you hold his hand, he moves it down to your pussy. 

You moan at the feeling of his hesitant hand there, and he laughs a bit breathlessly, growing slightly bolder and he loves how desperate you seem. “Teach me”

“Fine, fine, wait..” You say stopping your movements, as reluctant you both may be to that.

You lean slightly back, your hand goes to grab his knee to help you not fall. He can see more of your pussy like that, and you sigh as if trying to think clearly.

“Here” You say, grabbing his wrist and moving it slightly up. He has no idea what you mean, but he is learning, so he follows your lead. “This is my clit, so you rub it… Not harshly, not too aggressive. It can be intense, but… you have to do it gently. Firm, but gently” 

He has no idea how to do both, but he’ll try. Before he can start, you grab his wrist again, and he is confused. What else is there that you take so long to say?!

You take his hand up, and your mouth is quick to engulf his index and middle finger inside, wettening them  with your own saliva before letting them go; not without leaving a provocative lick beforehand. 

“Now” You say with a slight smile “Just gently.” You repeat, and he nods.

He is so going to cum just from seeing you lick his fingers so lustfully. 

Michael tries his best, he does. His fingers find the little thing, so small, and he is unsure what response something so tiny could do. But anyways, he does as told. His fingers hesitate before rubbing slightly there, left to right at the beginning, and then up and down.

“F-Fuck!” You say almost closing your legs around his hand and dick, but you force yourself to remain open. Your other hand goes to hold you onto the mattress of the bed, so you don’t fall. You are leaning backwards now, and he can see your body in all it’s glory. 

It does have an amazing effect, he realises, as he rubs circles on your clit and you moan even higher, your legs tremble as you force them open, and you start lowering on his cock again. Unlike the last time, you don’t take the time to make sure his cock enters and comes out fully, but you just grind against it, and when you move up and down, it is barely just in the base of his cock. But the tip? It never leaves your wetness.

He wishes he could see the bump of his cock on your belly. He looks at your abdomen, and he can practically imagine how the shape of his cock would poke out from your abdomen.  

“I want to cum” He says, panting as his brain is overwhelmed. He is overdoing things, he tries to rationalise this, but between rubbing your clit, your cunt wrapping around his cock and his moans leaving his mouth, he feels like he will pass out any moment now.

“M-Me too” You whine, desperate as your hips rut more desperate on his cock, and that turns him even more. 

He has made a girl desperate for him. And he’ll make a girl cum on his cock.

Michael makes sure to rub your clit in a delicious manner. Or what he guesses is a delicious manner. And since you almost sob your moans, he’d say he is doing a fucking amazing job. 

“FUCK” He says as he feels your cunt squeeze him so much, that his mind practically goes blank “I-I’m cumming” He barely gets the words out as he feels himself spent on the condom inside.

He moans, loudly, it could be embarrassing if it wasn’t so pleasurable, and he has to throw his head back from the pleasure on how his shoulders tense up.

You grab his wrist, and he gets the clue that he has to keep his touch on your clit. Your cheeks are red from stimulation, and as he pants and whimpers from his orgasm, as he rubs your clit. It doesn’t take long, as you practically cum all over his cock, milking his dick and making sure his balls go empty. 

Even if he orgasmed first, your peak leaves him dry, and spent in more than one way. He doesn’t think he will ever hear a girl moan so loud and pleased as you when you cum thanks to him. 

When you fall to his side, he takes off the condom, leaving it on his bedside table. He looks at you, panting hard on his side, and he feels the same, as he looks at you, still mesmerised by you. 

He searches for your hand, awkwardly, and he moves you slightly closer to him. 

You both remain breathlessly, pants as you two face the ceiling. 

“So” You start saying, and he turns his head to yours, and you have another of your mischievous, alluring smiles on your face. “Have you blown the candles?”

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #ewan nation #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x fem!reader #smut #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #saltburn au

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!

Part One: Quid Pro Quo Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈

“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”

She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.

Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.

The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.

Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.

She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.

‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online’

She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.

After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.

It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.

The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.

Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.

After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.

After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.

A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.

Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.

She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.

And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'

But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.

His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.

Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.

Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.

“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.

“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.

“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”

“Does they have to be within our course?”

“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”

She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.

“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”

“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”

“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”

“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”

“Oh I will!”

She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.

She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.

“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”

She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.

Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do. 

It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub. 

She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.

And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest. 

It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.

“Michael!”

The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her. 

“Michael!”

It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.

He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”

She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”

For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.

“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”

Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”

“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”

He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.

“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again. 

“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”

She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together. 

“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”

“That’d be lovely, Michael.”

He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening. 

Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life. 

At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.

His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.

“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.” 

When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”

“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.

She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”

When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.

“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”

She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”

There’s that flush again.

That deer in the headlights look.

“Uh…just sounded interesting.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

She smirks, “interesting.”

There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake. 

Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”

She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-

“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs. 

Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.

She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”

He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”

It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”

He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”

“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”

“My what?”

She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more. 

He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.

“No, really, my what.”

She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like,  how you place your furniture or whatever.”

Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”

“It probably is.” she laughs.

“Can I ask you something?”

The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”

She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.

“Why did you do that?”

She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.

“Do what.”

“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”

She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”

“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”

She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”

“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”

“You've asked that before and no.”

“Well why then?”

“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”

Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.

She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it!”

“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”

“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”

He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.

“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”

Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”

They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.

“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”

He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.

When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.

“Can I kiss you again like last time?”

She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.

Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.

By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.

She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.

But this time, his hands are extremely active.

She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.

He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.

It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.

“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.

She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.

If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze. 

His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”

“Course..” she says far too quickly. 

All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds. 

She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips. 

His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory. 

There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms. 

It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.

“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.

She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again. 

“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”

“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”

Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”

He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs. 

It then becomes obvious what he wants to do. 

“Are you sure, I-”

“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.

“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”

And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.

She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.

Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.

His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”

She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.

She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.

A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.

Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.

She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.

Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds. 

She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest  as he started slowly.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.

“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”

“Shit, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”

The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks. 

It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven. 

Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.

“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time. 

The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.

She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.

It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.

“Michael…”

At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.

She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.

With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.

Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.

“Oh, shit-” 

He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.

She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.

“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”

He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.

She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.

As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.

With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.

Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.

Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.

She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.

“Was I okay?”

This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.

She nods, “More than okay.”

He seems genuinely relieved.

She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.

He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.

“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.

“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”

“Yes, but would you like one?”

She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”

She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.

“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”

His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”

She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”

She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.

And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.

“What you looking for?”

“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”

She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.

She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian@randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya@urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey smut #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #michael gavey x fem!reader #michael gavey x female reader

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Brains & Barbie!

PAIRING: Michael Gavey x fem!BIMBO!Reader

WORDS: 1,515.

SUMMARY: Polar opposites attract right? It’s science. Who knew you would fall so helplessly in love with the math geek of the century…

WARNINGS: female receiving (fingering), swearing, degradation kink, some praise kink, edging, cum play, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing.

A/N - it has been a hot minute since I wrote for an Ewan character, so forgive me I’m a little rusty.

this fic is dedicated to my soul sister @sahvlren as it was her bday recently, and she requested this specifically. I love you so very much, and am so thankful to have you as my dearest friend, boo. one day we shall meet, but for now we get freaky online! enjoy xoxox

+++ in light of the recent drama unfolding in this hellsite, I thought some good ole' smut would do no harm, right?

forgive me I shall edit this properly, but I must sleep for my night shift lol

You weren't exactly the perfect pair to exist, nor would any like minded person think it best to put you two together in a roo, let alone become intimate. And yet, so effortlessly you both meshed rather well...Michael, your "Norman No Mates" boyfriend [as he enjoyed putting it], was quite a mathematical genius. His family were somewhat stable and well off, however, he rejoiced in the idea that he worked his way into the academy, where as your situation was quite the opposite. Your father had attended Oxford and graduated, as did your grandfather, who also sponsored and funded many of its restorations and renovations. The ancient establishment owed many of its complexes to your family name, and hence, granted you a position in their literature field, warranted you did try to maintain your grades above a credit average, trimming it with a pass even...

You had tipsily stumbled upon Michael at some college party: he stood by some dark corner, a drink in hand and the other in his pocket, before you had ignorantly walked into him, mindless to your surroundings from intoxication. You had either gone to refill your drink or was seeking the bathroom [you struggle to remember the fine details of the night you had met], laughing obnoxiously at some joke your friend had uttered, before walking into the man that would ultimately make you weak in your knees.

"S-Sorry-" You softly slurred, spilling your drink on the floor, a droplet landing on your heel.

At first it sounded as though an apparent swear seemingly seethed between his curved lips, halting himself before cursing you further, as he adjusted his thin framed spectacles, marvelling at you.

"Y-You alright, love?"

The next thing you knew, you found yourself hot and heavy, heated bodies, grinding against one another, as Michael teased and etched his impressively long cock, at your silky folds. His mouth latched to your unmissable cleavage, as he suckled on your breasts like a new born babe to its mother's teat.

No man had ever made you feel more desired, and yet a fool at his beck and call. He uttered despicable taunts and jabs at you, whilst simultaneously, worshipping the ground you strut on.

"The sluttiest girl on campus just couldn't resist the cock of a geek, huh? Making her even more stupid than she is, look at you... Pathetic baby."

His words stung a compelling sensation, and yet you craved for more of his undivided attention. And seemingly, Michael granted you every fathomable bit he could muster. You were the girl beyond his dreams, needless to say, he never thought he even stood a chance with any girl, of that matter. And he as a man, beyond your tastes. However, the tension was palpable between you two, the chemistry undeniable.

You often found yourself unwittingly seeking his company, even risking your privilege in the confines of his dorm...

"How long left, Mikey. I'm s'bored!" You whinge, as you fidget and reposition yourself sprawled on your boyfriend's single-sized bed. Flinging your flip phone to the side, without a care for consequences [your parents would simply purchase a new one for you]. Despite being in somewhat sheerly covered attire, your ass cheeks just peaking through beneath your skirt, Michael barely felt the temptation to see [if he was even aware of your current outfit].

"Wait. Need to finish this equation."

His stern, unwavering voice and unfazed focus ontp the paper and textbooks before him, made your eyes roll with such annoyance, defeatedly sighing. The repetitive sound of his pencil thudding at his head, and your rhythmical humming, filled the silent void.

"Ugh- Michael, you should have just told me to not come- There was a party, I could have been at—"

"Do you not have an essay due by the end of the week?"

You contemplate for a few, solid seconds, before realising there was truth to his words. You did have an assignment due in the imminent days to come, and you had yet to begin.

"W-Well, yes... But I was hoping you would help me, handsome."

"Is that so?"

His attention still remained down, fixated on the text before him, yet his tone elevated, intrigue plaguing his words.

"I-I mean I'll still write it out, y-you just need to guide me—”

Swiftly he swivelled his entire body in the desk-top chair to turn unto you, a cheeky grin plastered across his chiselled face.

"Baby, you can barely do your times-tables, you think you can write an whole essay? Adorable..."

"But I sure know how to fuck you good. What man of your calibre can have a girl like me, say that to a man like you, huh?"

A darkness tinged in his piercing blue orbs, intently watching your every move and gesture, as he notices your hand hovering between your thighs, before disappearing beneath the short, skimpy skirt.

"Mhmm—"

Your thoughtless moans began to echo between the confined blank walls of the dorm, squirming against the neatly folded fabrics of the bed.

"And what do you think you're doing, exactly?"

Two digits continued to delve deeper between your folds, drawing slow, circular motions as your thumb remained rubbing at your clit. You had been biting your lips, only to release a moan, as you intended to respond obediently.

"M-My boyfriend's a bore, s-so I'm t-taking matters into m-my own h-hands—"

"Is that so?"

Without so much as a warning, a force pried your hands out from beneath your walls, your wetness coating your fingers and knuckles, glistening in the dim light. Within a few seconds, the emptiness between your legs vanished, as a rougher, more sizeable host embedded itself between your velvet folds.

With roughness, and vastly more pace, Michael's lengthy, slim digits began to etch deeper and deeper inside of you, pumping his fist in and out of you, as his other hand laid to rest against the mattress, propping him upright. Your hands immediately laid at your sides, firmly clenching the quilt between for some steadiness.

"Does my little slut have no patience? Brain to numb to think, she just wants to be fucked all the time, huh?"

"Y-Yes—"

Just as your ecstatic cries and moans grew more frequent, Michael's breathing sounded heavier, feeling your warm wetness making a mess all along his hands and the crevices of your entrance.

"This slut could've bent over to anyone. No-No, but she did for me, yeah? So needy for cock, she didn't even learn her times tables, huh?"

"I-I need you, M-Mikey—"

A third long digit shoved itself deeper into your tight hole, panting beneath your grip as you felt yourself fervently clench around him.

"That's right, princess. You need me. No man is worthy of this pretty cunt of yours, I earned it."

As you felt yourself progressively lose all your senses. gaining traction to the heat stirring below, Michael's sudden release felt cathartic. Watching him lick and lap every inch of your wetness lingering over his hand, made you feel delectable. Your lustful eyes searched below, for a fleeting second, you caught the growing commotion in his pants, as the bulge was evident, its shadow against the restricted fabric. As he tasted the last drop, a snarky smirk expanded across his handsome face, before beginning to unbelt and unbutton his beige trousers.

"C'mon princess, spread those legs like you always do, like you were born to do. Such a fucking whore, that's all you were meant for. Meant for me."

Aligning himself so effortlessly perfect against your, his reddened tip blushed against your sight, teasing your silky folds. His veins throbbed with excitement, almost palpable between your sensitive entrance, its length girth suddenly plunging itself ever so slowly inside of you.

With a first, rough shove, delving himself completely inside of you, his balls hitting at your rear, an escape of a low grunt vibrated against his lips, that remained hovering over your soft skin. Michael kept himself steadily propped atop of you: with each thrust, equally time and paced, his weight began to drop over you, applying the pressure down from above with his cock inside of you.

"The most perfect cunt, for the most perfect girl. And it's mine."

"M-Michael—"

"S-Stastically we a-are an anomaly, b-but my princess f-found me, like a good girl—”

“A-Anomaly?"

A deep, growling chuckle escaped his lips, his pace growing sloppier as he attempted to articulate: despite Michael having you weak in the knees in bed, he was still somewhat new at the act of sex. Struggling to juggle with the need to fuck and the need to explain, his lean, tall figure cowering over you, his eyes shut with ecstasy momentarily, before opening to glare and marvel at you breathlessly. Your lips latched onto his neck and collarbones in between your moans, intently sucking at his tender flesh, desperate to taste him, to leave remnants of your physical love, strewed across his body. Desperate to savour every inch of him.

"An odd couple, baby. B-But you take me so fucking well—"

"Mhmm—"

"There's no going back now, Princess..."

credit for divider - @/prettypixels-love

#michael gavey #ewan mitchell #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey imagines #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fanfiction #saltburn #michael gavey x fem!reader #Michael Gavey x bimbo!reader #michael gavey x y/n

[jacevelaryonswife]

Supermassive Black Hole

A duo project changes some perceptions about your classmate

pairing: Michael Gavey x fem!reader

warnings: smut, period tipical misoginy (2006 guys), loss of virginity, english is not my first language.

word count: 3,297

ewanverse masterlist

When a firm knock came from the door, a name automatically entered your mind.

Gavey.

Michael Gavey.

You imagined that he would come to your meeting eventually, you actually longed to, although you didn't admit it. That idiot deserved to be put in his proper place — which was necessarily below you.

It had all started when a duo project was designated by draw earlier that day, and for both luck and bad luck your partner was the awkward genius, and difficult to deal with Michael Gavey.

There was no shortage of adjectives to be used for the unstable dirty blonde, which was truly fascinating. He intrigued you with his sharp intellect and his eccentric personality to the same extent that he repelled you with his peculiar and almost aggressive way. He was quite a figure, although you didn't allow yourself to think much about it.

It was also not a mystery that he was a true Norman No Mates, which wasn’t difficult to understand since his social skills were disastrous. The memory of him screaming at Oliver Quick in O Week never left your mind, especially the sudden change of attitude when he lowered his head and responded to the sum that Felix's pet (as your friends called him) made. You watched the whole situation closely, with a lot of curiosity, since your tables were close.

After that, whenever he entered an environment, you wondered what he would do next. You never knew what to expect from Gavey.

He started fervent debates during classes, demonstrating unparalleled intelligence and self-confidence, in addition to a slight arrogance that made him look strangely hot. Obviously a dispute of nervous male egos originated from these discussions, which made you watch with veiled fun and irritation while remaining silent. You admired the way his brain worked for math, but you didn't understand how he could be so bad at dealing with other people.

Because of this, you chose to keep a considerable distance from the horizon of events that involved Michael and his complexity, and for a long time this worked perfectly well. Until that damn moment.

Feeling humiliated by the way that insolent worm acted when trying to take responsibility for the whole activity for yourself, as if you were incompetent and incapable, you immediately confronted him about such behavior when he went to your meeting at the end of the class while you collected your material.

"Excuse me?" You asked.

"I'll finish this by Saturday, no need to worry," he repeated condescendingly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do you think I won't participate? Or did you just choose to pretend that I don't exist?" You asked with your eyebrows furrowed, posture becoming more imposing.

He remained silent for a short moment, seeming to analyze the situation (or the best answer to it, you couldn't tell). He wasn't used to being so reluctant to say what he thought, so it was a surprise to see him using time to devise something.

"I don't like working in group, I thought it would be faster if I did everything," he looked down quickly, running away from your gaze.

"I also don't like working with other people and I didn't even think about excluding you," you replied.

“Of course you don't.” There it was. The veiled arrogance that you so hated, present in most of your classmates.

Few were your STEM classmates, since your class was mostly composed of resentful boys who did not know how to deal with a woman without seeing her as a less intelligent object. Luckily not everyone was like that and you managed to put together a really cool group.

When all you did was send a cold and angry look, Michael cleared his throat and tried to speak again, but you cut him off impatiently. "When you're less asshole look for me again, I think you have my Myspace."

Who did that little shit think it was to treat you like that? 'Of course you don't' He was so fucking pretentious! And that's because he almost couldn't keep eye contact for a long time.

Pathetic.

That skinny nerd tormented your thoughts for the rest of the afternoon and served as gossip between your friends. Predictable. The way he acted was not very different from what you imagined about his annoying self-sufficiency. And even so, there he was, stopping in front of your door (more nerdy than ever) with his laptop and notebook in hand, wearing a blue button striped shirt, black belt and cream pants. He had a terrible taste in clothes, although they totally reflected his personality, he was curious.

“I'd like to apologize for my behavior earlier, it wasn't cool,” he started as soon as you leaned carelessly against the door.

Interesting.

You considered it for a moment, looking at him before turning his back and clearing the way for him to enter your space. "It wasn't that hard, was it?" You pulled a chair for him and threw yourself dramatically on the bed before sitting down to face him, already well established and looking closely at your figure. "So... I assume you've already thought about the structure of the project."

Of course he had thought.

He opened the laptop and exposed his idea while showing some calculations in his notebook, and you made an effort to pay attention to what was said and what was sketched. Obviously his idea was good, great actually, incredibly structured and cohesive with what the professor wanted. But you also had some ideas and would like them to be taken into account, telling you what you had planned. Surprisingly, he showed to consider your suggestions, even praising them — you knew they were good, but not that his ego allowed you to visualize this. You suggested a division of parts that would be meticulously checked in a future meeting.

"As you have already started, I thought about staying with the second part, what do you think?" You asked.

"It's okay, I intend to finish tomorrow maybe, I'll forward some references by email to you."

“Sure.” It was all very bureaucratic and direct. You sneaked up to look at his laptop screen before looking at what he was typing. "I have some of these books here, but I'll look for the others."

And without realizing it, you got into a big problem.

The freshness that radiated from him flooded your senses gradually, looking too long at his neck and jaw...

He had such beautiful features and aquiline dirty blonde hair that it looked so soft. And those hands... those long fingers... no, no, no and no. You (your body) couldn't be heating up to Michael Gavey.

But it's been a while since some fun... and you were at a suggestive time of the month. Maybe... just maybe... It wasn't a bad idea. As you returned to sitting on the bed, specifically next to where his chair was, you analyzed him as he typed the references in the email. He was not bad looking, no, quite the opposite in fact.

He was handsome, really handsome. And you wanted him. You wanted Michael Gavey.

You wanted to fuck him.

Fuck that attitude.

But how? How would you approach that nervous nerd?

Your mind struggled to develop an effective approach. You didn't want to waste time, not with the heat that spread high between your legs. You just waited for him to send the damn email and close the laptop. "Do you want anything to drink?"

“I'm good. I think we ended up here, I'll try to finish my part quickly," he looked at the notebook that was on the pillow, which you anticipated to pick up and deliver it, standing up in a false farewell.

"Sure," and as soon as Michael got up with the notebook and laptop, you held his arms, gently removing the objects while placing them on your study table. "But I don't think you should go now," you used without a more seductive tone while holding his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" He asked still, tense, looking directly into your eyes.

“Are you dating someone?” You asked softly, getting closer, leaning your breasts against his chest.

"No, I'm not," he answered the obvious, but you wanted to hear the obvious with all the lyrics.

Stretching a short distance from his lips, you asked: "So can I kiss you?"

That same look seen earlier was present again, as if his mind worked hard to find a solution to the problem presented. His mouth opened minimally when he took a deep breath, this time his gaze fell on your lips. "Why do you want to kiss me?"

"Because I fucking want it."

And then you collided your lips with his in a demanding kiss that took a long time to be reciprocated, but when it was... oh boy. Michael held your waist and tried to keep up with your rhythm. He wasn’t so experienced, but his lips were soft and pleasant against yours, kissing you with so much enthusiasm that it made you dizzy.

It made you both dizzy.

He couldn't believe was happening — and that it was happening to you. You... gorgeous, sexy and intelligent. You with a nice and phenomenal ass, who he believed would never look at him twice. You, who kissed him on the tongue and moved his hands to your chest and ass and smoothed the back of his neck and massaged his shoulder. He'd never been kissed like that before. Had never touched a girl like that.

What the fuck was going on?

With the deepening of the kiss you felt a hardness to press against your belly, inhibiting a conscious smile while Michael struggled between apologizing or pretending that it was not happening. Fortunately, you didn't intend to let that be ignored. Your hand slid from the nape of his neck until it reached the increasing bulge, gently squeezing over his pants, making him moan against your lips. You squeezed again before breaking the kiss.

"I don’t wanna just kiss tonight."

Fuck. He couldn't believe what was going on.

He felt that he would cum right there if your hand kept rubbing his cock.

"Are you sure?" He asked uncertainty, still not convinced that you really wanted him that way. It was so fucking sudden, one minute he was collecting his things to leave and the next he was kissing you.

"All the certainty in the world, and you?" You sang against his lips.

"I-" that would be fucking embarrassing, you would laugh at him, "I want to but- I never-"

Oh. It wasn’t different from what you expected.

"It's okay, seriously, there's no reason to worry about it."

“... are you fucking me or something?” He asked weakly, looking at your beautiful face with lust, seriousness and insecurity. You've never seen him so vulnerable.

"Of course not, I want you Michael, I want that, but if you feel you're not comfortable we don't n-"

"I want that."

“Are you sure?”

“I'm fucking sure.”

He felt a chain of confidence run through his body and leaned over to kiss you. You wasted no time unbuttoning his shirt, groping his newly exposed soft torso. Michael almost sighed when receiving your soft touch, pulling the blouse out of your body and coming across exposed and already hardened breasts.

Fuck.

He almost moaned. They were the first tits he saw in person, it was more than exciting. He held them immediately, massaging, squeezing, experiencing...

"Not like that," you held his hands gently.

"Sorry, I never-"

“It's okay.”

Your hands landed on the belt and unbuttoned it, continuing to unbutton the pants that were urgently removed by him while you discarded your own and hovered only in panties, watching him get rid of the shoes as well. Michael had little time to get used to your half-naked figure, since with a mischievous smile, you slowly lowered your panties and left it accumulated on the floor. He felt his neck and face burn and cock pulse with your vision, contemplating for too long.

You touched him over his black underwear, feeling him hard and big, making him moan.

"I won't last long if you keep fucking touching me like that," he took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"So why haven't you taken that off yet?" You shook his head, teasing him, watching him almost tear off his underwear and show off his cock in all splendor. He was packing, bigger than you expected, all pink, beautiful and anxious. “You have such a nice body,” you kissed him lazily, anticipation thrumming through you.

Michael felt himself in the clouds with your body pressed to his without any layer of fabric, but a big wave of anxiety hit him when you walked away to get a condom before gently guiding him to bed. “Relax, let me take control,” no foreplay would be necessary when you were already wet enough to receive it. "Take a deep breath and calm down, it's quite intense, try to be distracted by something else," you adjusted the condom to its length and saw it almost shake. That boy wouldn't last a minute.

He followed your instructions and concentrated as much as possible not to cum fast, holding firmly on your hips but nothing prepared him for your wet and hot folds.

Fuck, not even the best handjobs compare to your tight pussy going down on his cock. He moaned loudly when you rested against his groin, staring at where your bodies connected.

You bit your lips and closed your eyes, feeling deliciously full. He was bigger than average and had a delicious thickness that you would love to squeeze on your walls just to see him have a spasm, but I knew it would be too much for the beginning.

"When you want me to move, just say it."

Oh no, no! He was sure he would end up there even if you moved. "Don't move yet," he replied quickly, "Fuck," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

It was terribly satisfying to see him all vulnerable and red, without the usual arrogance and weirdness, and even better to have him inside you (albeit for a short time presumably). He thought about all the things he heard about sex all his life in those long seconds, filtering out what seemed more credible and useful. Think of something less sexy. It was fucking hard.

“Move.”

“Enjoy baby,” you slid gently up, resting your hands on his chest as you started an experimental and slow rhythm. “Mmm.”

So damn good.

Your juices made the movements easy and smooth, leaving him breathless whenever he was balls deep. The friction generated by the constancy of the movements made you two moan and the tightness on your waist increased. He was a fucking vision with disheveled hair, half-open mouth and crooked glasses, all docile while he was fucked dumb. The feeling of power over such an intelligent man was as exciting as sex, causing a presumptuous smile on your lips when you leaned over to kiss his milky neck, rubbing your body against his.

“Are you enjoying it?” You purred against his skin, kissing him superficially on the lips.

He was in the fucking clouds. And you knew that. Little shit.

He wrapped your body to move his hips against yours. He couldn't hold it anymore, he needed to cum. "I won't last long."

“It's okay, baby.”

Your tits jumped when you started riding it hard at a terrifying pace. He closed his eyes and felt his balls weigh every time you sat on his cock, holding your waist, your tits, your ass, everything you could while you allowed it.

"Fuck- I'm-" he moaned loudly and released his load on the condom, feeling a mind-blowing pleasure that paralyzed his senses and one pulled into a supermassive black hole. A thin layer of sweat covered his body, illuminating the reddish tone that covered it.

So beautiful.

Coming out of the top, you lay comfortably next to him, supporting a part of your peso on his chest while watching him struggling to stabilize his breathing. He still couldn't believe that it had finally happened, and especially with a girl like you.

“Are you here?” You asked after a while with a fun smile, although warm between his legs. He didn't know if he was, but he replied with a panting 'yes'. "Well, because we're not done yet."

What?

“What?” He asked.

“Sex is a two-way street baby, and I haven't come yet,” you purred softly against his ear, biting the lobe.

"I don't know when I'm going to get hard again," he confessed. Well, his brain was working again.

"You don't have these long fingers for nothing, Michael, and if you want it again you'll fuck me with them."

As much as he was affected by a sudden one, his sharp senses were awakened in the implication of a next time. He faithfully believed that hard work would lead him to maximum success in his life, he could not imagine otherwise in this situation. "How should I do that?"

You purred, taking his right hand and guiding it to your wet center. "Always start here if you want to make a girl cum," you circled your bud with his fingers, enjoying the delicious feeling, showing him the place before going down to your entrance. "Start with one finger, then add another."

He followed your instructions firmly, sticking a long finger and pumping slowly. "Not so slow," you bit your lower lip, somewhat impatiently waiting for the development of a slow orgasm. You needed to cum hard. Taking his hand, you held your middle finger and attached it to your index finger. “Faster.”

And although inexperienced and a little strong sometimes, his fingers felt fucking good on your walls, reaching the sweet point that made your feet's fingers curl. “Keep going, mm.”

"Can I kiss you?"

“Yes.”

Michael collided his lips on yours in a kiss full of tongue and teeth, staying on top while he fucked you with his fingers. He was hypnotized by the sounds you were making, by the warmth of your body, by the taste of your mouth...

“I'm close!”

You couldn't believe that that sleeky nerd of all people was giving you such pleasure.

Michael got up abruptly and used the hand that held his weight to circle your clitoris, making your eyes close with the construction of an abrasive orgasm. He pumped faster, watching your body squirm and your back arch.

“Michael- I'm gonna-" your whole body trembled when the coil burst and a hot pleasure flooded your senses, holding the sheets and closing your legs with the strong spasms.

It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life. And he did that. He made you cum. Michael was still very stunned with everything that happened, watching your figure before being pulled to lie next to you. You rested your head on his chest with a satisfied and tired smile, giving light kisses on his skin, relaxed with the post-orgasm fog.

“Did you like it?” You asked to break the ice.

"You've already asked better questions," he joked with a hoarse laugh, "Of course I fucking liked it."

“Mmm, I like to make sure,” you replied, facing his beautiful blue eyes behind the slightly blurred lenses.

Having your body so close (and with everything that happened) Michael felt his cock contract and a new electric current run through his body. "So there's going to be a next time?"

═════════════════════

taglists

general: @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

ewanverse: @aemonds-fire @partypoison00 @schniiipsel @fan-goddess @arcielee

═════════════════════

thank you smm @solisarium for the help with this ❤️

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x fem!reader #smut #saltburn #ewan mitchell #ewanverse

[watercolorskyy]

Okay A thought just came to me.... So in a recent article it was said that Ewan brought up the idea of having a USB attached to a carabiner that's on his cargo shorts that his character Michael Gavey has on him at all times. So here's where the thought comes in, Imagine on that USB is a video of either reader getting herself off or a video her and Michael that they made so he can use it for his personal use anytime and that's why he carries it with him!?!?!?!?!?!?

SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE THIS A FIC I BEG YOU!!!!

Also share your thoughts!!!

#fic rec #michael gavey x fem!reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey

[coryosbaby]

18+, MDNI !! Oliver Quick x reader x Michael Gavey

♡ Bimbo! Reader letting Oliver and Michael take turns on her

♡ Like ughh. It starts out at a party where the both of them are sulking in a corner. Two losers with no friends and slightly obsessive personalities trying to socialize? No way, no way

♡ Until you come along, all pretty and pink, tits out and underwear peeking out of your skirt. And they’re both drooling as they see you, embarrassed to look at each other because of the obvious hard ons they have

♡ And you’re a little airheaded, but you aren’t dumb, per se— you got into Oxford, for christs sake! — so you notice their wavering glances

♡ Introducing yourself to them, asking if you can sit down. The both of them parting like the red fucking sea to let you take a seat between them on some random frat boy’s stained couch. Your bubbly personality enticing the both of them as you tell them your name and about how you had seen them both around

♡ Going on a rant about how you and them are similar — you have companions, but they aren’t close ones, and you came to this party alone. Besides a few frat boys (with ill intentions), no one really wants to be your friend. Call it stuck up rich kid attitude, or whatever

♡ And they nod along, palming their bulges in their jeans like fucking pervs. Nasty, icky boys

♡ You don’t notice until a few minutes in, and looking down at each side of your thighs and into their laps, you let out a sweet little giggle

♡ Teasing the fuck out of them, all while they’re completely flustered as hell and stuttering out apologies. But you just shrug them off, tell them it’s okay

♡“If you want.. I can help? I’m good with my mouth and… other stuff. At least, that’s what my ex boyfriends said! We can go in a room upstairs, ‘m sure the guy who owns this house won’t mind.”

♡(It’s Felix’s house. He does mind, thank you very much, and is sickened by the sight he sees in his bedroom the next morning)

♡ Oliver and Michael are at loss for words at such a simple offer. Awkwardly nodding their heads, they refuse to aknowledge the other’s existence as you grab their hands and lead them upstairs

♡ When you get into one of the rooms, you shut and lock the door. Your lips find Oliver’s first, because he’s the closest. He kisses you rough, desperate. Not a virgin, but not completely experienced either. Probably a drunken fumble with a girl in high school, nothing more

♡ When you kiss Michael, he’s so soft. Like, insanely soft. Lips and touch alike. His hand finds your cheek and he holds your head in his hands when he does it. It’s sweet. Definitely a virgin

♡ You push them both onto the bed, and your fingers nimbly play with the zipper on your pink top. They both watch in wonder as you pull it down, sliding the shirt off your shoulders. No bra .

♡ Both literally gaping, mouths wide open, as they stare at your tits

♡“They’re nice, right? I think they’re my favorite part about me, honestly.”

♡ And then comes your skirt. Short, so they know the color of your underwear already (bubblegum pink)

♡ They both gape as you slide it down, revealing yourself to them so effortlessly. You tilt your head as you ask them to take their clothes off, too

♡ It’s instant. Buttons are undone as quick as lightening, shirts fly to the floor. Underwear is pushed past their ankles. They don’t even care at this point what the other is doing. The only thing in their focus is you

♡ Sliding your panties down, you step out of them and make your way over to the bed. You get on your hands and knees in front of them, pussy exposed and wet, looking back with a smile

♡ “Which one wants to go first?”

♡ Oliver is the braver one, since he has more experience

♡ His cock brushes up against your entrance, clumsily slipping against you. Michael watches, stroking himself with a shaky breath

♡ Oliver sheathes himself in you in one go, whining at your heat, his hands dig into your hips as he begins to thrust into you

♡ He’s not gentle, really. Not even close. He pounds into you, desperate and only thinking of his own aching dick as he splits you open. Mouth agape, sounds tumble out of your glossed lips as he pounds you into mattress

♡“Mmm, give it to me, give it t’me, just like that.”

♡ You’re moaning like a pornstar, feeling every drag and every ridge of him. His fingertips leave crescent moons in your hips, painting your skin with pretty indents of his infatuation

♡ Michael moves to your side and presses a warm kiss to your mouth. His cock sits big and heavy against his stomach, and you try to reach out and touch it but he slaps your hand away

♡ Is he getting a bit cocky? Maybe. He must be doing something right if he’s getting to screw a girl like you

♡ That’s probably why his big hand curls into your hair and he yanks your head back so he can slip his tongue into the warm confines of your mouth. Spit slick lips collide against sticky red ones, making a smear of divine crimson. Oliver, groaning and pent up, is close. So incredibly, undoubtedly close

♡ With a tiny cry, you try to guide him towards his release

♡“It’s good, yeah? My pussy’s so warm ‘n tight for you, Ollie. Cmon, want you to fill me up, want it so bad..”

♡ He can’t say no to that, spilling inside you with a deep stutter of his hips

♡ Michael watches in excitement.

♡ Absolutely fucking insane for that pussy, I’m telling you !!

♡ Practically throws Oliver out of the way to get at you. Watching the way your little hole gushes creamy white cum, he can’t help but push into it

♡ It’s warm, sticky, wet. It’s the best thing he’s ever felt

♡ Whimpers as he presses all the way in. He’s a little bit bigger than Oliver, and your cunt burns from the stretch

♡ But it’s nothing you can’t handle. Your ten inch dildos can vouch for that

♡ Oh, Michael is needy

♡ Needy, needy, needy

♡ The way he fucks— rutting into you like an animal, while also cooing to you as Oliver presses his thumb against your tongue— makes your vision practically white out

♡ Oliver isn’t a completely selfish boy, of course, and his fingers reach down and rub your clit

♡ It surprises you. Usually they pump and dump. You guess he’s just different because he’s a loser

♡ Michael spears his dick against that spongey spot inside you, and you mewl, fucking back onto him with an avaricious intensity

♡ He doesn’t last as long as Oliver, but that’s okay

♡ He’s a virgin, after all. You wouldn’t expect him to

♡ And ughhh when fills you up :(

♡ It’s so precious, the way he whimpers as he releases inside

♡ Oliver just watches, a smirk on his face

♡ The sick fucking freak is already hard again

♡ Ready to go another round

♡ The minute Michael pulls out, Oliver is behind you and you’re being used again

♡ It’s okay, though. You have all night for the two of them to abuse your little cunt <3 they’re pretty boys, after all. And pretty boys deserve to indulge in sweet, creamy pussy

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi

#bunny writes ͟͟͞☆ #oliver quick #Michael Gavey #Oliver quick x reader #Michael Gavey x reader #Oliver quick x fem! reader #Michael Gavey x fem! reader #Oliver quick x bimbo! reader #Michael Gavey x bimbo! reader #Oliver quick x you #Michael Gavey x you #xreader #Oliver quick smut #Michael Gavey smut #sub! Michael Gavey #Dom! Oliver quick #Oliver quick blurb #Michael Gavey blurb #Oliver quick headcannons #Michael Gavey headcannons #Michael Gavey x reader x oliver quick #Oliver quick x reader x michael gavey #Oliver quick fanfic #Michael Gavey fanfic #Barry Keoghan #ewan Mitchell #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn fanfic

[ladythornofrivia]

🍒 The Devil’s Tongue 🍒

Michael Gavey x Reader (PART ONE)

summary: you transferred into Oxford after moving out from your country for a better change, and unexpectedly meeting Michael Gavey in a quiet library, leads to something more.

warnings: creepy vibes from michael gavey, reader being oblivious, stalking, michael being horny, p in v sex, loss of virginity, jealousy, misunderstandings, obsession, belt kink, panty kink, scent kink, voice kink, breeding kink, michael gavey being a smartass, michael gavey is horny for math, michael gavey is a smartass, clueless reader, nerdy yet hot michael, lust at first sight, sex in the library, sex on the table, kitchen sex, oral sex, cam girl, fingering, sex during tutoring session, reader teasing, reader being a dominatrix in bed, food porn.

a/n: i forgot to review the movie saltburn last year, so I’ll give it a short review. Saltburn is a weird movie, but i watched it because of Ewan Mitchell. While ewan mitchell is 10/10, saltburn is 7/10, because of the bathtub scene and the grave scene. the only thing that’s good is the cinematography, music and ewan mitchell. i wish there’s more scenes from him. yes, i keep saying his name! he’s so fucking hot as a nerd. this one shot will be long.

You like cherries.

There’s something mysterious and tempting about the roundish and reddish fruits. Cherries are sweet, and it’s dark-reddish color brought an appeal to your appetite and. Appeal that also changes your view in fashion.

And as hot as the Devil’s tongue.

Red symbolized lust.

Sinful, they proclaimed.

So does your pussy, when you splayed across the bed, waiting for Michael to enter and see the reaction of his when you splayed naked in bed with thick whip cream smothered on your tits, waist, and your pussy decorated in whip cream swirled with cherry on top.

***

A Year Ago…

Your parents and your attention seeking relatives are no good. Red is as sin as lust—the devil’s skin, the devil’s horn.

Other than black and pink, you like the dark-cherry color. All your aesthetics are cherry red—well, the undertones to match your little room at your small house belongs to your parents.

Them and their sinless views of the world has sickened to your stomach. You don’t want to be like your hypocritical, martyr parents for the rest of your life, so you applied for the university at Oxford and Northamptonshire. You got accepted to the university. Despite being a young woman, you managed to prove them wrong.

And sever ties with them to go at the University of Oxford, where you encounter numerous people. You’ve done research to get things right—not to be frigid or superficially pretentious; you didn’t want to embarrass yourself on the spot if you chose to be ignorant.

One thing that no one else knows of you, is that you moonlight as a dominatrix on a live stream. Every night, you broadcast online to pleasure yourself—that’s how you got money to bail from a strict and hypocritical religious household.

Few of the students looked at your direction, giving a side-eye. You overheard them calling you a prostitute, but you couldn’t care less. Dress to impress for yourself. You mostly wore bike leather jacket, a tank top, mini skirt and a chunky dark-cherry red boots with light make up, but the lipstick is glossy dark red—and not the irritable, sticky kind.

Your long locks tossed at the side, already at your assigned room, but you shut the windows completely. You don’t want to reveal the private side of your internet sensation. After closing the curtains, you’re off to the hall, where people gathered and talk, mainly about drama and parties.

You hadn’t known one. But you had party to yourself of gaining source of income from self-pleasure.

There you sat down, and overheard someone at your left. Afar, you saw a young man named Oliver Quick and another guy with nerdy glasses.

Michael Gavey.

“Fuckin’ ask me a sum then!” The chatter dimmed when a young man shouted about math.

No one really likes as the guy with the nerdy glasses does. But he does look cute when he’s fuming.

Maybe he’s sexually frustrated. All it needs is I need to work on a poor guy. Poor guy is so frustrated—a no man island himself, like Oliver Quick.

You could tell. So you chimed in.

“What’s the square root of 69”

Both boys turned to look at you.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Oliver inquired, perplexed.

“Oh, just a curious person asking him a question,” you said, jerking your head towards the blond and cutely frustrated boy.

“8.30662386292,” is all the blond uttered.

Your lips tugged into a smirk, and left.

Interesting, now I have a new kink to look forward to for my next kinky session.

***

It’s quite luxurious for a library—grand yet old like wines in the cellar. You studied Political Science and Art, and while you studied and sometimes drawing, but a certain snack bar caught your eye; it was placed above your drawing.

“I got you a crunchie,” a voice said. You turned and saw Michael Gavey.

“Oh, um, thanks?”

“I have never seen you before,” he noted.

“Really? So do I.”

“As a matter of fact, you have disrupted us during our friendly conversation.”

Oliver Quick was anything but friendly and comfortable.

“Okay and?”

He quirked a brow. “Your attitude is unusual.”

“Well, where I came from, it’s not really an issue. I’m a straight forward kind of gal,” you explained.

Michael hummed, staring at you.

“Pardon my rudeness. I’m Michael Gavey.” His hand stretched out. “I never get your name.

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N).” You offered a handshake in return.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m from America.”

“Ah, yes. The land of freedom,” he commented, trying to make you laugh.

You laughed awkwardly. You have never smiled or laughed before—in a non-superficial way. You laughed and smiled during as a cam girl, but other than that, you never smile genuinely.

Somehow it caught his eye. His glasses beamed that you could see the color of his hues.

“An awkward foreign girl.”

“Yeah, so? I’m not really a people-person.”

“Why did you come here, then? For a good fuck?”

Ghastly, you turned around to see if anyone catches his words, but nobody pays attention.

“Are you going to the party?”

“What party?”

“The party Felix and his friends are heading tonight.”

“Who the hell is Felix?”

Michael darted his eyes behind you, and followed the sign; Felix and Farleigh sat at the back between the shelves.

“Apparently, he’s hosting a party tonight. NFI, me and you. Not Fucking Invited.”

“Well, I don’t a fuck about parties that much.”

Michael tsked. “That’s a very strong language.”

“Says the guy who says NFI. Besides, I don’t like parties,” you said, and it wasn’t a half lie. You have an upcoming camgirl session tonight.

“A shame,” Michael said, then reaching for the crunchie.

You have never tried snacks from another culture.

“Is it good?” you asked him.

He ripped the snack bar open, and gave you a piece. “Try it and see for yourself.”

And you did.

It was worth it.

Nevermind how Michael watched you in fascination.

***

The roofs and walls of University has been but a sham; it was real quiet.

Too quiet.

You hated quiet rooms.

In your next session, your fingers swirled your swollen clit, thinking of Michael Gavey’s rosy lips and tongue licking and nibbling your wet cunt and a tight hole.

You never fucked anybody, but you wanted your first time to be special. You rode on a dildo, trying not to moan so loud, but you come down high. The faster you moved, the more erotic images of a nerdy Michael seeping into you.

This is my kind of party.

***

Somewhere, in a darkened room, Michael Gavey’s hand filled with cum, and his other hand pressed the send button on his computer screen.

It was sensational to see.

You.

Who would’ve thought he met you—a famous camgirl.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how your eyes twinkled when you ate crunchie for the first time—far from the horniness and snobbish act you put up in public. It was a delight to see . With your outstanding getup and attitude, he knew that he’s in a right place.

Taglist: @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @halsteadstyles @lothiriel9 @liannafae @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @thought--bubble @remuslupinwife1 @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @kimsubin05 @blackgaladriel @valeskafics @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @mylosz0

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #reader #fem reader #female reader #saltburn #ewan mitchell #smut #writers of tumblr #writer #ao3 #ao3 writer #writerblr #writers #blogger #blog #angst #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #ewan nation #saltburn fanfiction #fluff #my wrtitng #ewanverse #tumblr #write

[michaelsgavey]

The Musician and The Mathematician • Michael Gavey x Fem! Original Character

Summary: He was good with math. She was good with music. What if Michael Gavey met a student who studied music in the Great Hall?

Parts:

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • TBA

Author’s note:

Hello! This is basically the masterlist of my Michael Gavey fanfic :) It’s just a ‘What if Michael met this person instead of Oliver?’ fanfic. Please note that it is a ‘What if?’ Scenario so don’t take it seriously! The characters are not going to be erased i promise.

I will also upload this to AO3 once i make a account so i will inform you if it’s on there as well! I want to note that the original character is Mexican like myself. However , she doesn’t have a faceclaim.

I will also attempt to add Michael’s canon actions (despite him having 4 minutes) with my own personal spin. Also I haven’t written a series in a while so please bear with me 🥲 with that being said , I hope you all enjoy the story!

#michael gavey #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey x fem oc #michael gavey x fem reader #michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell #saltburn

[aegons-queen]

I really need a fic with a Nobel prize! Michael Gavey that is in a relationship with a Popstar! Reader

#michael gavey #michael gavey x fem reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey fic

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Quid Pro Quo | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After being ditched by her friend at the Trinity College Christmas Party, she finds herself enthralled with learning the language of Michael Gavey | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Part Two: Carpe Diem Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, semi-public sexual conduct, oral sex (m receiving), heavy petting

If she has to listen to Professor Wardon swoon over Ancient Greek and how it ‘drove him to pursue his dreams in extending his passion to other students’, she thinks she might actually fall asleep.

She's in a good spot to do so, nestled between two other students, the one on her right seemingly just as bored as her, and conveniently hidden behind a tall, lanky first year, who sits straight, with his head perfectly obscuring hers as he fixes his posture regularly.

Several times throughout, she's checked her watch, and yet the second hand never seems to move an inch.

Professor Wardon is just about to go on a lovesick spiel about Homeric Greek when the lecture concludes with a heaved sigh from every student as they sling their hefty bags over their shoulders.

“Remember I want 2,500 words on Les Liaisons dangereuses in my pigeon hole by next Thursday, before your Christmas parties!” 

“Oh joy,” she sighs with a grin to the girl walking shoulder to shoulder beside her as they leave, feeling noticeably lighter knowing that that's their last lecture before Christmas break.

“Christ, you're telling me. I can't be arsed to even right my own name at the moment, nevermind read 18th century fucking French.”

She gives a snort in reply, “Merry Christmas to us, eh? Should do what the French do and have a revolution or something.”

“Yeah, eat our lecturers or something.”

“Alright, I wouldn't go that far.”

“Anyway, I'm off to T Library, see ya, have a good Christmas and don't do anything I wouldn't!”

She waves her off as her friend disappears, the cold air of the outside nipping at her skin that manages to sneak beneath her coat.

Oxford University is not what she imagined at all. She came here very much feeling like an outsider, like there'd been some sort of paperwork mistake and it was supposed to be someone else in her place. 

The imposter syndrome seemed difficult to shift, but she'd at least managed to make a couple of friends since starting in September.

Languages had always found her well, and seemingly the only thing she managed to actually understand. People were inconsistent, cruel and fickle. Languages, though they shifted and changed, were firmly rooted in reason and understanding. 

As sad as it sounded, conjugating verbs, vowel shifts and rare dialects were the one thing she found herself itching to discover more about. The idea that there was more to uncover seemed exciting and scary at the same time.

And Oxford University was the best place she could be to do that.

All that said, her eagerness to get involved with her studies had left her social life with much to be desired.

In the first two weeks of university alone, she'd gained one friend and lost a boyfriend. And while they were drifting apart anyway, it was still a relatively large blow to her self-esteem and her confidence to actually get out there, socialise and make the most of her first year of freedom.

The only friends she'd made were those on her course. Priya, who'd just abandoned her to stick her nose in books about the Great Vowel Shift, and Anya, who…to be honest, rarely left her room. Seeming more like a ghost than anything else.

It was a wonder she was still a student, with how often she missed classes.

What Anya does do best, is manage to somehow rise out of her pit to drag her to Christmas parties that aren't even run by their college.

Which is why she finds herself somehow at Trinity College campus, where she eyes several scantily clad women wearing revealing Santa costumes adorned with itchy tinsel.

Anya is the sort of girl who, well, every girl kind of wants to be. So much so she sort of wonders why she hangs around with her. She's pretty, fit and fucking clever. Her only downfall is her taste in men, so often being Oxford pretty boys.

So it is absolutely no surprise at all, when two jägerbombs in, Anya has somehow slipped into the arms of one aforementioned Oxford pretty boy, seeming in every way a clone of the previous, with the exception of the way he pairs his Ayia Nappa top with his low rise jeans and the only effort to conform to  theme, is a pair of plastic reindeer antlers on his head bobbling side to side.

She grimaces as she watches them suck each other's faces off in a dark corner of the room, ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 blaring with a cheap crackle through the speakers as she makes her way through the bodies to somewhere quiet.

She sighs, nursing the rum and coke Anya had sloppily poured her in one hand as she closes the door behind her, shutting out the drunken squeals and cheers for the peace of a quiet common room.

It's still decorated, she notes, but empty. Maybe she could lurk here until Anya is done, if she ever will be.

The deep clack of a pool ball being sucked into a socket makes her jump, realising perhaps that she was not actually alone, as she'd previously thought.

The cool light hung above the battered pool table illuminates his deep red jumper, and the first thing she sees is the way he leans on one leg, standing straight as if he was imitating the rigid pool cue leant before him. The yellow lined detailing around the cuffs highlights his small wrists and big hands that stretch from it as he rubs blue chalk onto the tip.

Her eyes trail up the back of his neck, past the lazy waves of dark blonde hair, clearly due a trim at some point, and to his face, even from this angle able to see how his features sit. With a sharp nose and jawline, and black skinny glasses perched above his cheekbones.

She almost laughs at the way he's almost as tall as the light that illuminates the table, half-thinking that she might never have seen such a strange and yet interesting looking guy.

“Didn't fancy the party?” she finally says, alerting him to her presence.

She doesn't quite expect the way the light bounces off his sharp features, sinking his blue eyes in shadow as his head turns to her with an expression of boredom.

“Not particularly, no.” 

His voice is lighter than she thought it would be and part of her wonders if he's putting it on. He presses his glasses further up his nose before assessing his next shot, stalking around the table.

“Why's that?”

This time, when he answers, he doesn't look at her. He simply leans down, and aims.

“Not. Fucking. Invited,” he replies bitterly, missing a yellow, “that's why.”

Her fingertips moisten against the glass as the ice begins to melt, but she pays it no mind.

“So you're lurking about in here instead.”

He plays with the cue in one hand, barely sparing a second glance, a bitter, quiet laugh escaping him.

He misses another red before he heaves a sigh, straightening to look at her again.

“You here alone as well?” he asks dispassionately.

She smiles lazily and shrugs.

“My mate is…a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean,” she replies, taking an awkward sip of the now watered down drink, “like you, I don't really think these are my thing either.”

He seems to consider her statement for a moment.

“Why come then?”

She shrugs again, “trying to be sociable.”

“With those vapid cunts? Good luck getting any intelligent conversation out of them.”

She watches as he picks up the blue chalk again, applying more when he doesn't even need it in sort of a nervous gesture, his blue eyes averted and pretending to assess his next move.

There's something about him. How judgemental he is and how he forms his words. Perhaps she hadn't expected this sort of guy to be so outwardly honest with his opinions, and for the most part, she can't say she disagrees with the message, just the way in which he said it.

“Can I play?” She asks, leaning over to put her drink down.

“What are you reading?” He asks so suddenly, and out of context, that she does a double take.

She raises her eyebrows, smiling, “Does my answer depend on if I get to play or not?”

There's no answer from him. Shocker of the century.

“Modern Languages.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans.

She's a bit too happy and dizzy on rum to get defensive.

“Is that one of those subjects that sounds way less interesting than it actually ends up being?”

She gives a breathy laugh, “just like languages.”

He hums, as if the answer didn't impress him, “more of a science and numbers man myself, obviously.”

For a moment, it's lost on her why it's obvious.

He takes a sip of his, no doubt, stale beer, wetting his lips after, “Your name is?”

She narrows her eyes teasingly, smiling as she leans against the table, “quid pro quo.”

She enjoys the brief confusion on his face, before he realises what she's said.

“Okay, okay, Michael.”

She smiles, “See? You know what that meant. Who says you're not a languages man?”

It's the first time he seems to duck his head, hiding a blush she's barely able to see.

“I don’t think the Ancient Roman idea of fair exchange warrants the title of ‘languages man’.” 

The blue chalk comes off on his hands as he fiddles nervously with it.

“So, am I bestowed the privilege of playing?”

He raises his head, and she can tell he's trying his damndest to not let a little beer-induced smile pass his lips.

“I suppose I could allow you to embarrass yourself in front of me for a bit, if you insist. We'll have to share a cue though.”

She doesn't have the heart to tell him her uncle was a pool player, and so by extension, has played pool for most of her upbringing. Rather, he finds out himself when she pots three yellows in a row.

It's either the alcohol or pity that kicks in when she misses the fourth, holding the cue for him to take.

“You being good at pool wasn't on my bingo card,” he mutters with some nervous teasing in his voice.

They go back and forth for a bit, missing some, potting some, with interspersed conversation between. 

“Thought you might have been a Norman-no -mates, like me,” he says quietly as he watches her assess her next shot. Bending to aim.

“You're not far off,” she replies, “first fortnight I was down a boyfriend. Since then, I've only been up two friends and one of them is in the other room  having ditched me for the shag of a lifetime.”

She doesn't see it until after she takes the shot, the way his eyes flit back to hers quickly as she rights herself to stand.

Was he checking me out?

As if he was lagging, he only laughs now at what she's said.

“What about you?” She asks, “no girls, or boys, on the scene?”

He blushes a lot when she asks that. And she can't help the fluttering in her chest she feels that someone might find her attractive.

“Can’t say there is.”

She stands close, passing the cue to him, electricity warming her fingertips as she grazes his.

“And why not?”

He scoffs bitterly, “have you seen me?” he mutters, wandering around the table, suddenly unable to shake the feeling of her gaze, “Not too many girls out there looking for the stereotypical nerdy math boy, really.”

“Hm,” she hums, “how unfortunate for them.”

He sinks a red, picking at his red jumper.

“Yeah, they're clearly missing out, huh?”

The bitter and self-deprecating tone of his voice makes her heart sink a bit. He's not a bad looking guy, she thinks. His style, glasses, hair, she would almost say look actually quite cute.

Maybe that's the thing he doesn't like.

“No interest? Or is maths the only one for you?”

He misses the next shot and sighs, holding the cue for her to take, “clearly, the only one I need.”

She steps close to retrieve, taking her time, looking up at him as she does. At this proximity, Michael sucks in a breath quietly, his lips, which she can't say she'd noticed until right this moment, parting and his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flit rapidly down her.

A warmth swirls in her gut at that.

She circles the table, “what about in the past?” 

He leans against the other side, his hand on the cushion, long fingers splayed on the green fabric. She has to shake her head to break her own trance.

“Can’t say my love life has exactly been a roaring success, honestly.”

The way he says it.

She wouldn't be surprised if he was…

Oh.

“So what? You're focussed on your studies?”

She misses. Too set on the conversation rather than the game.

He gives a mirthless laugh, “Sure.”

She rounds the table, holding the cue for him to take, but when he reaches for it, she pulls back with a smirk.

“So we've established you're not one for languages,” she starts, and Michael furrows his brows in confusion, “have you ever really asked for what you want? Ever?”

He seems to miss what she's trying to say.

“Have you been with a girl?”

At that, his eyes widen slightly, a blush crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, cheeks near matching his shirt.

She knows she has her answer.

“Well…I…no, I haven't…”

At chest height, she can see the way his breathing elevates.

“And, hypothetically, if a girl expressed interest. What would you say?”

His lips part for a good few seconds before he gives a reply, “I’d…I um…I guess it depends who…”

It's like he's afraid she'll make fun of him for it. 

“What about, if it was me?” She asks, her voice lowering as she reaches out to pick some lint off his jumper, like it's the most normal thing in the world. His body goes all rigid as she does.

This isn't normal in his world.

Michael swallows thickly, “you're not taking the Mick out of me, are you?”

She shakes her head, “I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you want.”

For someone who had so often thought about it, now when faced with the situation, he feels as if he doesn't know what to do or say.

She's still stood with the cue in one hand, close enough so that when she shifts her weight from foot to foot, her knee grazes his leg. It's interesting to watch him think so deeply about it. Convinced he's probably never thought of anything so much in his life.

“What if what I want is…you?”

The tension deepens like the tone and volume of his voice. And without effort, a smile finds its way to her face when she looks at his expression. He's frozen stiff, for once, not knowing what to say.

So nothing shocks her more when he grabs the pool cue as a means of pulling her to him, and he has to duck considerably to press his lips clumsily to hers. He's eager, that much is true, but it's clear he's inexperienced. But instead of causing discomfort, she thinks it's quite endearing.

The pool cue clangs to the floor as she braces her hands on his shoulders and chest, guiding his lips with her own in a slower, more careful movement. She feels the edge of the pool table bite into her lower back when he presses her against it, clearly excited, if the hardness that's flush to her stomach is anything to go by.

The hands she had been staring at not half an hour ago are bruising as they trace her waist and hips, with a grip tight enough to tell her exactly how much he's enjoying the experience.

For a moment, they're not in a common room alone, against a pool table, with ‘Cheetah-licious Christmas’ playing in the room over, the bass of which rumbles through the floor and into their chests.

The kiss lasts a long while, and she has a feeling he wants to savour it as if it's the last time he will ever be able to do it. 

One of her hands snakes its way to the back of his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him closer as either of them tilt to aid more contact between them. And at the little amount of tugging, Michael whines into her mouth, prompting him to pull away.

He looks halfway between mortified and pleased, his glasses having skewed to one side with the eagerness of what they'd done. And she laughs a bit, reaching up to fix them, which seems to make the mortification fade somewhat from his face.

Michael looks down between them, where his obvious erection is pressed to her, and pulls away slightly with a scarlet blush.

“Shit - sorry-”

“It's fine,” she reassures, “no need to be embarrassed.”

The words alone would be enough, if her hand hadn't snaked between their bodies to brush her palm over him. And if it were possible, his flush spreads to his neck, words failing him once more.

Her eyes flicker up to his, their lips all kiss-bruised and swollen.

“If you don't want to-”

“No, no, I want to…” he says, immediately embarrassed about how quick it was.

She smiles, one hand palming him through his jeans and the other trailing up his chest, “Sit down.”

He backs up to sit on a nearby sofa, watching with a kind of adoration as she makes space between his legs, her eyes glimmering at him as she slowly undoes his belt.

“If at any time, you need to stop, tell me.”

He gives a nervous laugh, his stomach muscles tightening, wondering probably if this is really happening to him, “Not sure I will want to…”

She smiles reassuringly, watching as his lips part as she palms him through his boxers, trying to suppress how impressed she is with his size.

It's always the skinny white guys.

“Well, the offer's there.” She smirks, pulling him from his boxers, Michael gives a suffered breath, feeling her touch on him and also her breath so close. He almost feels dizzy. The thought of this happening in this situation, with a party going on next door, is dangerous and exciting in equal measure.

She knows he has very limited experience, so decides not to tease him too much.

Michael gasps softly as she licks at the base of him, drawing a wet line with her tongue along the vein underneath, all the way to the tip. She concentrates her efforts slightly on the sensitive spot there before closing her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking gently.

She feels the way his thighs tense, and the blue disappearing as he closes his eyes. His fists are tight beside him, knuckles white, like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. All he knows right now is that this feeling is brand new, and the sensation is so much already.

She pulls herself from him to run her tongue over his length, one hand moving to his hand, to encourage him. His blue eyes crack open just a bit, to understand what she's trying to tell him.

And she fights the urge to smile as his longer fingers swipe across her temple into her hair, his touch tender, soft and unsure as he holds her by it. 

Her lips wrap around him once more, pushing him further into her mouth, taking him steadily and slowly at first. Michael's hips move barely, chasing the friction that he's getting on his cock when she bobs her head on him and hollows her cheeks.

He watches with parted lips and warm cheeks, moving her hair away so he can watch himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Her hand massages the rest of him, giving him two unique sensations in one, something that earns her a deep, throaty moan.

When her eyes open to look at him, he thinks his heart stops in his chest for a split second. He closes his eyes, not able to bear the way she looks with his cock in her mouth if she looks right at him, feeling that if he did any longer he wouldn't last.

The sounds he emits don't stop there as she increases her pace on him, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and taking him deeper into her throat, humming around him at the heady scent of his skin.

It's only when she takes him as far as he will go, working hard to control her gag reflex that he gives the first genuine buck of his hips, tightening in her hair and a far-too-loud moan. If anyone in the next room were quiet and paying attention, they'd likely know exactly what was going on.

“Fuck-”

It only serves to spur her on as she pulls back, moving in a more steady, quick rhythm, that she is sure Michael is loving judging by the rate of his moans and the way he chokes out his words.

His stomach clenches and unclenches, his high creeping up on him as her mouth tightens around his length. 

“Shit - you need to - I'm gonna -” he chokes, weakly tugging her hair in an effort to pull her mouth off him before he cums.

If she didn't have his cock in her mouth she'd smile.

Her hand squeezes the base of him, and Michael throws his head back slightly, a long shuddered and choked moan reverberating through his chest. She swears she feels his thighs shake as she stills, warm ropes of his cum taste musky at the back of her throat.

His loud moan is followed quickly by more softer ones as her throat contracts to swallow as much as she can, briefly increasing the tension and friction around his sensitive length.

When she pulls off him with a pleased sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michael sits up slightly, having to gather his breath.

“Fucking hell…”

She takes it as a compliment and rises to her feet, her hands smoothing her skirt back down.

And she squeaks in delight as Michael quickly tucks himself away, barely doing up his jeans buttons before backing her up to the pool table again, kissing her fervently.

“What about you…do I…” he starts when he breaks away, panting softly. She smiles at the notion but shakes her head. This experience was for him alone.

“Not right now, don't feel inclined to,” she reassured, her hands on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating rapidly beneath it.

“Right now?” he asks with a quiet, unsure tone, “does that mean…there's gonna be a next time?”

His tone is careful, and yet, she is able to detect something like desire there. An excitement for more, without seeming too eager so that he's not let down if she says no. Something that makes it clear he is 100% on board.

She bites back a grin.

“Quid Pro Quo, Michael.”

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#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey fanfic #michael gabey fanfiction #michael gavey fic #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x female reader #michael gabey x fem!reader #saltburn fanfiction #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #saltburn fic #michael gavey saltburn

[anjelicawrites]

The one looking out for you

Paring: dark!Michael Gavey x fem!reader Synopsis: fill for this ask: “Hii can I request a dark Michael gavey x fem reader smut where they're coworkers and reader don't really know Michael because he works in IT and they only pass each other here and there but Michael is obsess with reader and one day he overhears reader telling a coworker that she's ovulating but her fiancé (who's been cheating on her without her knowledge) is out of town and they've been trying for a baby. Michael digs up dirt on her fiance and leaks the info anonymously and then he "coincidently" finds her crying and kinda drunk and he "comforts" reader”. Warnings: NONCON (reader is drunk while having sex), rape, rape drugs, stalking, obsession, sexist language, fatphobia, pictures and videos taken without reader’s consent, vomiting, alcohol usage, reader being drunk, p in v sex, chocking, titty sucking, fingering, creampie, baby trapping, breeding kink, lactation kink, talk of reader reduced to a basement wife, talk of pregnancy sex. A/N: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, she/her pronouns used.

Michael knows how special you are, how gentle you heart is; he sees you in all the ways other people don’t. Some might call his behavior obsessive, stalkerish even, but the world doesn’t understand that, when you finally find your person, you need to take all the necessary steps to keep that person safe. Take today, for example. You had worked overtime, your team leader needing your expertise for the latest company project, and are going home just now, after 9 pm on a cold winter night. You should wait for the bus, or hail a cab, but you’re too tired to wait and just want to go home thus cutting through the city park. Michael knows because he’s following the GPS of your phone, to make sure nothing happens to you, and is using the speakers of your phone to hear what’s happening around you and call the cops if someone tries to approach you.

He shouldn’t have cloned your phone, he knows it’s frowned upon, but you pull shit like this: how is he supposed to keep you safe? You are too gentle, too trusting of the world and in need of a protector, someone who will really look after you, not like your useless fiancé, who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve, nor he loves you, otherwise he wouldn’t be having an affair with the girl living in the next door apartment. The discovery had been casual, the Trojan he used to clone your phone had infected your fiancé’s as well and Michael had been the unwilling witness to his sexual escapades with that whore. He had been so disgusted by the way the asshole talked about you, that he would have disconnected from the phone, if he wasn’t digging for dirt on him.

Michael knows he’s invisible, he’s always been: no friends, no girlfriend, only him and his brilliant mind; when he was younger he had suffered because no one acknowledged him, now he understands he has a superpower that helps him navigate corporate life, absorbing all the relevant information, without anyone realizing what he’s doing.

You greet him whenever you stumble upon him in the corridors, still grateful he solved a computer issue you had the day of a big presentation, the reason why he’s met you in the first place and every gentle smile you direct his way, adds fuel to the fire of his obsession. He’s racked his own brains for days, after that first fateful encounter, wondering how he could start a conversation with you, cloning your phone had been the only way he thought he could find something you two had in common. It saved him a gaffe, when he saw all the photos with your fiancé, and gave him so much insight inside your brain, to understand you were the woman for him; of course you are far more creative that he’ll ever be, your soul gentler than his, but you are smart and being so different will only add to you two’s relationship, once he’s gotten rid of your boyfriend.

Michael is working on the new firewall, hidden in his own basement office. He’s thankful that the other IT people are misanthropes as he is and don’t mind that he’s working with his headphones on, on the contrary, everyone is wearing headgear to focus better on their task, the difference being, he’s listening to you. Your day is slow, with the big project finished, you and your team can kick back a bit, have a chat while ironing the last wrinkles.

Michael has been listening while you were chatting with that stupid cow, Marissa, about the last movie you’ve watched at that theater that shows mostly old black and white flicks; Michael has managed to garner quite the knowledge about old time Hollywood and Cinecittà and has discovered a fondness for old Hammer movies himself, even though the movies he prefers the most star you while you’re pleasuring yourself (something you’re doing quite frequently, since the asshole doesn’t seem to be that interested in you anymore), the theater? Your webcam and your apartment.

His focuses his attention when you go to have a coffee with your ‘work wife’ Jenny; through your phone he hears that you two are going downstairs, to the cafeteria of the building: one day you and him will do the same, pick a place to call your own, just to have a break. You have only bought your phone with you, it’s easy for him to listen to the inane chat, even though the cafeteria is packed; he’s not truly focusing on the conversation, just to the sound of your lovely voice as you wait for your coffee (espresso, a splash of oat milk and half sugar) and your favorite pastry (pain au chocolat, vegan); it’s when the asshole’s name drops that he stops working and focus only on you.

“You know we’ve been trying truly hard, at least we used to.” You say with a defeated tone he doesn’t like. “Then we stopped for his big project, I understand that he couldn’t follow that and my hormonal cycle.”

Michael grits his teeth; he’s been looking out for you for the better part of the year, before? He wasn’t your guardian angel and it had been difficult for him to put together the pieces, since you don’t use that many apps to store your personal life and information.

“Wait.” Jenny stops you. “Wasn’t he the one who wanted to start trying again?” “Yes.” From your tone only Michael can imagine you pinching the bridge of your nose. “He’s been repeating me to check my ovulation, write everything down or use those pregnancy like sticks, and what does he do the weekend I am at my peak? Leaves for work!”

Michael has to clench his fists when he understands what you and Jenny are talking about: children. You and the asshole having a baby!

Michael has to leave his small office and storms to the bathroom where he can pace around like a caged beast: that son of a bitch wants to knock you up, while he’s having an affair with the whore next door?

Calm, he tells himself, you need to stay calm and focused.

“What kind of trip is that?” He hears Jenny ask. “Work. His firm is trying to promote a new kind of prosthesis during this orthopedics conference; he has to be there.” “Why can’t you go with him? Take the weekend off? You wouldn’t be the only partner to go, I think”. “There have been some issues.” Your voice lowers conspiratorially. “Some of his colleagues had gone with their mistresses, on firm expenses and now all family members are banned from going.” “Hmm.” Jenny doesn’t seem too convinced. “Are you sure he wants to truly try?

Michael hears you sigh and wished he was there, not in this stupid bathroom!

“We are more distant. I keep telling myself that we had to both work on big projects at the same time, that we were forced to focus on work more than we would have liked and that, after the storm, things would go back to normal.”

Michael hears you sniff and the soft sound of Jenny’s hand on yours.

“What’s your gut feeling, love?” She asks, with a quiet voice. “That is not a storm and that he’s asked to try for a baby again because he doesn’t know how to handle all of this.” “Perhaps him going away for the weekend isn’t such a bad thing.”

Michael likes Jenny, she’s smart, calls IT only when she has a real issue and treats all of them like they are people, not the weird nerds hiding in the basement; he reckons Jenny is a bit of a nerd as well, based on the Star Trek knickknacks on her desk. Yes, when you and him are together, she’s one of the friends he’ll advise you to stick with: you’ll have to drop many of them, too stupid for you, and for him, but not Jenny, she can stay.

Michael hides in one of the stalls and opens the secret app on his phone where he keeps all your photos and videos. Some are racy, you pleasuring yourself using your favorite dildo and clit sucker, your sobs of pleasure going straight to his cock every time, but that’s not what he is looking for as his thumb swipes through all the pics he has, until he’s found the one he loves the most: you on the sofa, dressed in an oversized jumper, as you read your book. You look homely, the picture of what he wants your lives to be: quiet and filled with each other’s presence, you two don’t need anyone else, Or perhaps...

His mind goes back to the conversation he’s just heard. Michael doesn’t truly care for children but for you? He’ll give you a soccer team of babies if only you asked, fuck you full of his cum until he’s sure he’s bred you, only to fuck you some more once you’re full. His finger slides through the photos until he finds one of you in your bathing suit, just to imagine your tummy full of his child and your breast swollen with milk, begging to be sucked: yeah, the idea of knocking you up becomes more and more appealing as the minutes pass. He just needs to make sure the asshole doesn’t manage before he does.

Michael goes back to his cubicle with a lighter heart, now that he knows what the stakes are; he even whistles his favorite song as he orders a bouquet of the flowers you love (white callas and light pink lilies), to have them sent to your workstation: this has been his only outward way to express his feelings for you and today you need something nice to look at, after your heartfelt conversation with Jenny. As he focuses again on the firewall, Michael mentally pats himself on the back for having cloned the asshole's phone by mistake: you will have to know what is going on, it will hurt you, but he’s going to be there for you, unlike your fiancé.

Later that night, Michael is storing all he has on the asshole on the USB pen he’s bought on the way back to his small apartment; as one of the computers is working on the background, out of curiosity he checks if what the asshole has told you about the ban on partners going to conventions is true or not: if he’s lying, he’s going to add to the mountain of proofs he has, if not, well, it means that even him plays fair sometimes.

He stares at the desktop, before clicking on his browser icon: obviously is a picture of you, a selfie you’ve taken on holiday; you look so relaxed and happy, the shadows the straw hat you’re wearing paint on the skin of your cleavage are so elegant: he’s never met a woman who can be classy even when wearing a skimpy bikini. You are truly a Goddess among your kind, the best and the smartest, created just for him. He hopes you’ll let him snap racy pictures of you, once you two are together; nothing obscene or pornographic, just to celebrate your beauty and grace. Michael thinks he will be able to convince you, otherwise something in your water to make sure you’re pliant will make do.

You don’t want to be at this stupid office party. Yes, your last project was a success, all your colleagues want to celebrate, but you are in no mood, thanks to your cheating, asshole of a boyfriend.

You don’t know who sent you the USB pen, you’re not sure you’ll ever thank them for opening your eyes, but the truth is in front of you and you have no way to stop knowing what has been happening behind your back; given the chance, would you rather not have received the envelope and the USB? Nursing your umpteenth cocktail you’re not sure of the answer.

The envelope was white and lacked a return address, which was unusual but not overly so: the local Catholic Church leaves leaflets when Christmas and Easter are near, to promote the activities during these periods of time, never envelopes but you thought they were changing their strategies and opened it once you were home, alone as usual. The USB had surprised you, the printout of the reservation made of your fiancé and the girl next door, for the conference, propelled you to the bathroom, where you threw up your lunch and afternoon snack.

There was another message, smaller, that invited you to check the USB pen in your hand, if you wanted to know the truth; you stayed rooted on the spot for the longest time, torn between wanting to ignore everything, or let the bomb explode. Time passed, punctuated by the old clock in the kitchen, until you made up your mind, and choose the latter, you’re a daughter of Pandora after all, and plugged the USB in your computer: a barrage of text, photos and audio messages attacked you, you managed to go through a small percentage of them, before you had to run to the bathroom to throw up again, your stomach churning bile until you had nothing left to give. After this onslaught you cried with your knees tight against your chest, until you felt so tired you’d sleep on the cold bathroom floor, but you forced yourself to go back to the living room and went through all the proofs of your fiancé’s infidelity with the whore next door.

You didin’t know your personal guardian angel was listening to everything and looking using the smart TV you’ve bought last year. Michael’s heart hurt with your pain, he wished he was there to comfort you; if only you had waited for him, instead of being with the asshole, he wouldn’t have to make you go through all of this. It was your fault for not having faith that your true love was waiting for you: you’ll go through this cathartic experience and then be free to start your new life, the one Michael will tailor for you, and for himself.

With gritted teeth he watched the fight you have with the asshole, all the excuses he spewed, and then the insults against you, before he left slamming the door. He saw you angrily drink and cry until you passed out on the couch and he stayed up all night, watching you through the TV to make sure you were still breathing. It hurt him that you were hurt, but it was the price to pay for a better future.

You have been on autopilot for the rest of the week: went to work, where you used a mere fraction of your attention on the last details of the finished project, and then returned home to cry. You fiancé, better, former fiancé at this point, didn’t even try to patch things up with you, on Thursday, after you returned from work, all his stuff had disappeared and he hadn’t even left a note or sent you a message. You truly spiraled after that, called your best friend and wept on the phone for hours, until you head hurt; on a whim you had even thought about not going to work on Friday, but you couldn’t, not with the presentation of the bloody project and the celebration party afterwards. You decided to settle with finishing the alcohol at home and sent disparaging texts to your ex, who never answered them (little you knew that your own guardian angel had to do with that, and with the fact that he had disappeared with all his belongings; that was not something Michael thought you needed to worry your pretty head with).

You played your part on Friday, said your little spiel and shook hands on command, wore a fake smile for everyone to see, until you could hide in the conference room, nursing glasses after glasses of cheap alcohol, until you felt like enough time had passed to return home.

You’re sitting at the big desk, facing morosely the incredible view from such a high floor, with a glass and bottle you’ve taken from the open bar. You’re drunk, it's so easy to ignore the little voice in your head that’s telling you to stop, call a Uber and go home when your tummy is sloshing with alcohol. You’re so detached from your body that the door opening with a small creak doesn’t scare you.

“I thought nobody was here.”

You turn your head slowly and feel the strain of your eyes as they focus on the intruder. On first sight you don’t recognize him, then his name comes back to you Michael, one of the IT guys who solves all your technical issues. You’ve met him a couple of times, once when Marissa had some issued with her computer. You had felt bad for the guy, who had to come upstairs to simply turn the switch Marissa had swore was already on the right position. He had said something nasty about your colleague under his breath, ‘vapid cunt’, or something among those lines, as he was leaving. You didn’t approve of his language, but understood his frustration: he probably had to deal with stupid accidents like that all the time, his patience must have slipped; you had stopped him before he entered the lift and said you were sorry on your colleague’s behalf. You could have sworn his eyes had focused on you, behind his tick glasses, as if he was assessing you, judging you, but it was just a moment, then his blue eyes seemed to clear and you had repeated yourself that you have been consuming too much true crime, if such an innocuous man could cause weird thoughts in your head.

You had seen him around, he had saved your arse when your computer stopped working the day of a big presentation, tall and gangly, and always greeted him with a smile and a wave, which he would awkwardly respond to: he was one of the many people you knew, but weren’t truly friends with.

“Hi.” You try to sound sober. “Far from the madding crowd as well?”

Ok, you tell yourself, that’s not too bad.

Michael gently closes the door, you don’t see it but he locks it as well, before he walks towards you.

“Something like that.”

You stare at him, truly taking his appearance in for the first time. He’s awkward, standing the way he does a couple of chairs away from you, but not ugly: he should dress better and wear more stylish glasses, but he is handsome, in a nerd kind of way; his eyes are a beautiful shade of blue, and he is tall, not imposing but with large shoulders.

“Come.” You say, patting the chair next to you. “Don’t stand where you are. Fancy a drink?”

Almost knocking a chair over, Michael walks where you are and stiffly sits.

“I think I am full for the night.” He answers, when you offer him your own glass. “Are you sure? I’d loathe to drink by myself.” “Sure.” He answers. “Uhm, congratulation with the project.” He adds.

You pour yourself a generous amount of alcohol and drink it down in one go.

“That? Child’s play.” “Still, a great amount of money coming this way.” “Yeah.” You’re suddenly more morose than before. “All I am good for.”

You sway on the chair and distantly feel Michael’s hands, his very large hands, grab you by your shoulders before you can fall.

“I’m fine Mickey boy.” You slur with your face dangerously close to his. “I’m nothing but trash worth kicking anyway!”

You shrug him off and try to keep an upright position.

“Don’t say that about yourself!”

Something in his tone forces your drunken mind to focus on him.

“What do you know?” You bare your teeth at him and he has to keep you upright again. “I’m with this guy for years, years! I turn down the position in the USA office for him! Lose weight! Learn how to cook like his sodden mama and what does he do? He fucks the next door neighbor, that fat cow! I have to starve myself and be shamed when I can’t be a bloody size 8 and he fucks her! Sends her dick picks! Talks shit about me!”

The same way rage had possessed you, it disappears, leaving you a shaking handful of nerves; before you even realize it, you fall against Michael and start crying, fat, inconsolable sobs against his ugly sweater.

Michael holds you tight, reveling in the fact that you are in his arms, never mind the reason: you’ve opened up your heart to him, you’re seeking him for consolation! Not Jenny, not your best friend, but him! Because you know, in your heart of hearts, that Michael is the one for you!

He knows he’s awkward as he caresses your back and tries to murmur soothing words against your hair, but it doesn’t matter, not when all his hard work has come into fruition!

“I’m so sorry.” He hears from the general direction of his chest. “I don’t know what happened.” “That’s fine.” He answers, his arms still caging you. “Truly Michael, I don’t know what possessed me.”

When you finally manage to lift your head from his chest, you stare into his eyes, now dark pools your drunken brain can’t read.

Michael loses himself in your beautiful face and in the pain still marring your features: you need consolation and not the kind that words offer. He hadn’t planned all of this when he had followed you in the conference room, but you are in his arms, needy and sad and his cock is rock hard. You are causing all of this, he tells himself, because you need this and him. And he can’t say no to you.

His big hand sneaks into your hair to pull you closer to him; in your drunken state you don’t realize what’s happening, if not when his lips crash on yours, uncoordinated and dry. You try to push him away, to beg him to stop, but he uses your parted lips to slip his tongue in to deepen the kiss, his free hand grabs your hips and he pulls you on the table, slotting himself between your parted legs, his erection shocking you. When he starts kissing your neck, you try to push him away again, too drunk and weak to manage and he grabs your wrist in his big hand, to push you against the cold glass of the table; his free hand slips under your skirt and his fingers sneak under your panties.

“If you don’t want me, why are you so wet?”

He towers over you, his eyes unreadable behind his glasses and you can’t help but sob again: your drunken brain can’t find an adequate response, your body on fire after such a long time without another person’s touch.

Your body arches when his fingers slip inside your cunt, warm and wet, to fuck your hole hard and fast: he’s seen you masturbate so many times he knows how you like it, how you want his thumb on your clit, how to curl them to find your G spot and bully it, while you trash and cry, your muscles impossibly tight around him. He knows the sounds you’re making, those high pitched sobs that mean you’re close.

“Nooo…” You moan when his fingers leave your body.

Michael’s stare his cold and burns you at the same time, you have to hide your face because you can’t stand it deep into your soul; roughly he forces you to look at him.

“Look at me when I fuck you.” His palm cups your cunt cruelly. “You don’t get to come if you stop staring at me.”

Your drunken mind wants to come, wants an orgasm to take the pain away, it doesn’t matter who gives it to you, as long as your heart stops hurting. Then you will forget all about it.

A scared sound escapes your mouth when his big cock is revealed to you: you’ve never had anything so tick inside of you, you’re scared. Michael seems to revel in the fear he sees in your eyes, he can feel his erection grow with it, the knowledge that you’re finally at his mercy fueling his desire: you’re going to take all of him and be grateful that his seed will grow inside your belly, he’s going to give you all the time to adjust, but he’s coming inside of you and you with him.

Impatient he pulls your shirt and bra out of the way to free your beautiful breasts and he jacks himself faster at the sight of your tits. He bats your hands away when you try to cover yourself and curls one hand around a breast, until you cry out in pain.

“You’re all mine to see.” The vise on your breast is so tight he’s going to leave imprints. “Say it!”

You’re drunk and petrified, you don’t understand where this violence comes from, you just want to come and be done with all of this.

“I’m… I’m all yours to see.” You manage to say with tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “It wasn’t so hard.” Michael’s hand travels from your abused tit to your cheek to dry the tears already there. “I want to make you feel good, but you have to behave. Will you be my good girl?”

If you weren’t this drunk you’d fight him off you, scream bloody murder until someone comes to your rescue, but you’re drunk and desperately need all the human connection that you can scrape. You’d never sleep with Michael, not in a million years, but you’re not in your right mind and you just slump against the cool glass, incapable of stopping him.

Michael’s bulbous head nudges your wet entrance, slowly he slides in and groans at how wet you are; he hasn’t had many partners but no cunt has felt as perfect as yours, the ripple of your muscles as your body desperately tries to adjust to his size makes his blood boil, your pained moans and keens spur him on and his pushes become faster and faster, the more your cunt opens up for him. Desperate you try to relax, the pain of his intrusion mixes with pleasure, your drunken mind is confused, your body arches when he bottoms out and your eyes roll in their sockets: you’ve never been so full in your entire life.

Michael has to stop once he is sitting fully inside of you, your hole strangles his cock in ways no other cunt has ever managed, your nipples are erect with the pleasure he’s giving you and you’re making those small sounds that have him want to fuck you hard and fast, but he’s promised you pleasure, and he is no liar. Your tearful eyes are on him as he bends his back to envelope one nipple in his mouth to suck, gently, the other is getting pinched by his long fingers; slowly the pleasure mounts over the pain you’ve been feeling, your drunken body responds to his ministration and you moan, eyes on his as he switches between nipples with satisfied groans, your hips even lift to invite him to move, and he follows your movements, picking up speed when he feels your muscles give up to his ownership of your body.

You moan and keen when he picks up speed and he pulls your legs over his arms to fold you and fuck you faster, your wet cut squelches with every push, his cockhead bullies your G spot mercilessly and you try to squirm away, the pleasure too much and not enough. Michael bends against your body again and kisses you, tongue proprietary in your mouth he snuffs your scream when you come, your cunt so tight around his cock that he follows, copious in your hungry hole, and keeps fucking you, his erection still at full mast, fueled by your desperate sounds of overstimulation: he’s dreamed about this for too long to stop now.

You try to beg, to scream, but his hand around your throat cuts off your desperate prayers, your scratch his wrist and he simply fucks you harder, grinds against your poor clit tighter and your legs kick against his back, spurring him on: he knows you like it hard and even if you don’t? It’s what you’re getting now.

With a groan he pulls out and turns you face first on the table, fast he enters you again and grabs your tits to use your body as leverage to fuck your hole savagely, his hold the only reason your body is still up, your hands try to grab uselessly at the glass, his heavy balls slap against you and pleasure burns through you, painful it courses through your body and you squirm with it, tears falling from your eyes as his cock rapes your hole deeper and deeper, until he comes, panting your insides again, triggering your own orgasm.

You pant, the cold of the table nice against your over heated skin. Distantly you feel Michael’s lips on your nape, he’s leaving small kisses and nibbles on the soft skin, when you try to move you moan, your cunt curling around his still erect cock.

“Michael, please.” You beg, so sore already. “If you didn’t want me, why is your cunt strangling my cock?” He whispers cruelly in your ear.

Michael can’t believe his body can still be in need of yours, but he’s not going to say no, not when your cunt is massaging his erection so deliciously. Fast he removes his cock and plugs your cunt closed with his fingers, he can’t risk his seed to go to waste, not when he’s trying to knock you up; one handed he turns you on your back again and enters your hole with a groan: he’s found his home and he’s not going to leave it.

“Please Michael.” You sob. “I’m so sore!”

He cups your cheek and kisses you again. You submit to his ownership, afraid of triggering his rage; distantly a part of your brain is screaming that you don’t want this, that you should fight him, but you don’t have the strength to, not when you just want to forget your ex for a while ans are so scared of his rage: you will feel dirty afterwards and will drunk yourself in a stupor to forget, but that’s problems for future you, now you can't do anything else, you just want the pain to stop.

“I was too forceful, was I?” Michael caresses your body, already getting used to the feel of your skin under his. “I’ll go slow this time, love. Give me your last one and we’ll stop.”

For now, he thinks. He’s not done with marking all your holes as his.

“Don’t hurt me.” You sob, small and pathetic. “Never.”

His hips move slowly against yours, long and deep pushes that you feel everywhere in your body. His hands are at your breasts again, massaging them in tandem with his pushes inside of you; you squirm, your muscles sore with the abuse he’s subjected you to, your clit inflamed with the way he grinds against it, still sparks of pleasure explode in your muddled brain, your cunt clenches around him, pulling him in tighter and tighter, that he can’t help but grind against you, the image of the ring of his come and yours around his base and the squelch of your hungry hole spurring him on. He’s not going to last long and you’re coming with him again, sucking all your seed inside of you, until it takes. He’s going to fuck you through your pregnancy as well, his hips grind faster when he imagines the added pressure of your full belly and your tits, leaking milk he’s going to be all the happier to suck.

“No Michael please!” You beg when he starts fingering your clit. “Be my good girl.” He groans, punishing you with hard thrusts. “You’re going to come and drain my cock dry, or I’m not going to stop until you do.”

Your body arches at his words, the part of your mind that’s still coherent reels at the realization that he’s been fucking you bareback, your cunt clenches at the thought, tighter and tighter as he fucks your deeper and faster, until you come with a pained sob and he follows you, emptying his balls fully inside of you.

He stays rooted inside of you, willing his seed to take as your muscles massage his soft cock to the point of overstimulation; you’re a mess of tears and ruined make up under him, still too shook after so many orgasms, and he uses your fragility to enact the last part of his plan.

He grabs the glass and bottle still intact after your coupling and fishes for the small packet of drugs he’s bought on less than savory websites (the wonders of the deep web, if one knows where to look) and dissolves one capsule in the remaining alcohol. Gently he raises your head and forces you to drink everything: you need to be pliant for this part, he can’t risk you acting silly if you two meet some coworkers on the way out.

Once you’ve drunk everything, he stays inside of you, just enjoying your body as the drug takes effect, only then he’s going to dress you and help you back to your apartment, where he’s going to fuck you for the whole weekend. Hopefully his purchase will not be needed, but if you misbehave he’ll have to give some more of it, he needs you to be pliant, ready to follow his breeding project. As you stare at him with glassy eyes, Michael decides he’s going to drug you anyway and once the effects drain off your system, hopefully you’ll buy his story, that you two went on a weekend binge of alcohol and sex. If things will go as he’s planned, come Sunday you’ll be embarrassed and he will buy you breakfast and ask you out on a proper date, if you start complaining, then he has to use plan B, the one he had devised when he had found out you had a fiancé. You don’t know it, but if you are going to be a silly goose, he’s going to hide you away in the small farm out in the country he’s bought under a false name (he is a man who needs little to survive and has managed to put away a big sum easily), until he can break you and remake you into his perfect little wife. He will have to lock you in the basement for a time and use the fake posts he’s prepared in advance to justify you disappearing from your life, but he’s positive that’s not going to be needed: you are his other half, after all.

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x y/n

[jacevelaryonswife]

You really got me | COMING SOON

pairing: Professor!Michael Gavey x student fem!reader

summary: With a perfect CV, Michael Gavey was on top of the fucking world and mediocrity has never seemed so inherent to you before. The new Professor of Number Theory awakened inappropriate feelings that could become risky if they were reciprocal.

rated: +18

— I’m a Michael’s girlie now, sorry.

Comment if you want to be tagged 💞

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x fem!reader #ewan mitchell #saltburn #michael gavey fic

[mrdrwrites]

Pairings: Oliver Quick X !fem reader

Summary: Oliver is invited to Saltburn by your twin brother Felix and after the first dinner things get a little heated.

CW: SFW!! kissing, bad language, mention of sexual content (not much)

WC: 2.1k

warning: i am dyslexic so don’t expect all words to be spelled correctly, also i don’t autocapitalise my words

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

being a Catton had many advantages, a never ending list of friends, money, a level of smartness that seemed to be genetic, and sex. lots of sex. my brother, Felix, knows this too well. Felix Catton, my twin brother, is, for a use of better words, a whore. a new girl on his arm every single night. although recently there has been less women and more of a certain man. a very handsome man. Oliver Quick is his name, i had been told by my friend, and one of Felix’s little fuck buddy’s, Veronica. Oliver Quick is a beautiful man, not the type that Felix would usually hang out with. Oliver Quick is a nerd, a man who always has his head in a textbook, a man with glasses, a man who hangs out with Michael Gavey for fucks sake. he is beautiful, a loony, but beautiful nonetheless. when Felix had told me Oliver would accompany us back to Saltburn for the summer with our cousin Farleigh Start, i had almost choked on the very air i was breathing. this information became known to me three months after i had first seen Felix and Oliver together in the pub with Felix’s group of dimwit friends. poor Oliver is going to be eaten alive, Saltburn is going to eat him alive.

two months later.

Saltburn never ceases to amaze me, it’s the home i’ve lived in all my life and yet every time i’m here it feels like the first time. i’m sitting by the pond when Felix comes behind me and scares me. i scream and hit him in the chest when he crouches to my level.

‘Ollie is looking around. when he gets here be nice,’ he warns me with a straight face.

‘i’m always nice. it’s mum you have to worry about,’ i roll my eyes, ‘let’s not forget Venetia too, she’s been anticipating his arrival after your little description of the poor boy.’

Felix sits beside me, ‘i’ve told Venetia, no more Eddie situations. i do not want to lose another friend,’ he sighs.

‘if you do, you’ve still got me,’ i nudge his side with my shoulder, ‘you know, twin sister, built in best friend.’

he chuckles and puts an arm around my shoulders. the both of us stare at the pond until we hear a voice.

‘Felix? Felix, where are you?’ Oliver.

‘over here mate,’ Felix shouts over his shoulder, Oliver soon appears from the side of the house and he sits with Felix and i.

‘this house is,’ there is a pause, ‘beautiful’ Oliver lets out a sigh.

my lip quirks up, ‘Felix given you the tour yet?’

‘yeah. when i first got here,’ his Scouse accent is strong, a stark contrast to Felix and i’s.

‘you meet Venetia or mum and dad yet?’ i question.

Felix flicks my ear, a scowl on his face, ‘leave him alone. enough of the questions.’

i roll my eyes and shut my mouth.

‘no i haven’t. Felix told me to watch out for Venetia,’ Oliver speaks up after a moment of silence, ‘said she has been parading herself round all morning in hopes of finding me, whatever that means.’

‘it means she wants to fuck you, Ollie,’ Felix grits out harshly.

i hit him in his side and he lets out a huff, moving his arm from around my shoulder and to where i hit him. Oliver laughs at the two of us and the sound makes me smile a little myself.

‘Sir Felix, Madam y/n,’ Duncan speaks up from behind the three of us, making Oliver jolt, ‘your mother has requested that the three of you get ready for dinner.’

‘no problem Duncan we will go now,’ Felix waves off our butler and stands.

he lifts a hand in my direction and i grab it for him to pull me up. he does so and the same is done for Oliver. we all part ways once back in the house and go to our respective rooms. i decide on a blue dress for dinner, an elegant dress. it hugs my curves and finishes just above my knee, its off the shoulder and used to be my mothers. she had given it to me as a birthday present. she knew id always dreamed of owning a dress like this. i look at myself in the body length mirror and spray a little perfume on my neck. a knock has me looking from my reflection to the oak door of my bedroom. i make my way over and open up to see Oliver on the other side, looking sheepish.

‘uh, Felix left me in my room to get changed and he, uh, left. i don’t know where the dining room is,’ he averts his gaze to the floor.

‘it’s okay, i get lost sometimes and i’ve lived here my whole life. i’ll take you to the dining room,’ i smile and link my arm with his, closing my bedroom door behind me.

we are in the dining room a moment later, everyone already there. including mums friend Pamela. Oliver and i take a seat and i give a smile to my mother. she returns it and begins to speak.

‘welcome to Saltburn Oliver, we hope everything is to your liking. my name is Elspeth, this is my friend Pamela,’ she points a hand in her direction, ‘that is my husband Sir James,’ and dads, ‘and this is Venetia,’ she finally points toward my younger sister, ‘i assume you have been acquainted with y/n and Farleigh.’

‘yes Mrs Catton, Farleigh and i had a few classes together, and y/n and i have briefly met,’ he looks at me and interlinks our fingers under the table, ‘it is lovely to meet everyone else,’ he smiles.

‘oh please, do call me Elspeth,’ mum states, ‘Felix has told us so much about you, how are your parents?’

the conversation picks up with Oliver being the centre of it. we all eat, Oliver’s finger still entwined with my own under the table. the night finishes when mum has successfully fried all the information out of Oliver about his personal life. parents, siblings, education, friends, favourite colour, heck she knows it all. we are all excused from the table when it has been cleared and Oliver and i’s fingers finally break apart.

‘can i talk to you for a moment,’ i feel a hand on my own as i’m leaving the dining room, i turn and see Oliver, ‘alone.’

‘sure, yeah. is everything okay?’ i question as we make our way to my room.

he says nothing, he just continues to walk with me, his hand in my own. we make it to my room moments later and i let him inside, our hands detach.

‘you’re very beautiful y/n,’ Oliver says as i close my bedroom door.

a blush spreads across my cheeks, ‘thank you Oliver.’

he comes closer to me and my breath catches in my throat. i have had a little tiny crush on Oliver ever since my brother first started hanging out with him 5 months ago. Oliver is handsome, brown hair and big blue eyes that are the perfect colour as to not look too bright or too dull. his hand comes up to stroke my cheek and i lean into it.

he hums, ‘Felix doesn’t shut up about you, you know that?’ he tilts my head so i am looking up into his eyes.

i don’t get the chance to open my mouth before he is speaking again, ‘you’re an easy person to like y/n, i know everything about you because of Felix,’ his thumb rests on my bottom lip, ‘i know your favourite colour is pink, i know you didn’t talk til you were 4 years old, i know you have never let anyone touch you the way i’m touching you now,’ his voice is suddenly deeper.

my lips part and a breath of air is let out. my cheeks becoming even more hot the longer Oliver goes on.

‘you’re beautiful y/n, i mean that. you’re drop dead gorgeous, such a pretty face,’ his thumb tips back so it is half way in my mouth, my tongue is laid flat against the bottom of my mouth, cautious of not touching the pad of Oliver’s thumb.

Oliver’s eyes trail down my face, stopping at my mouth, ‘do you think Felix would understand if i were to kiss you?’ he questions, his accent getting thicker with each word.

his thumb moves from my mouth and there is an icy hot sensation left where he once had it, my lips still agape.

‘i don’t think he would,’ i finally speak up, my voice scratchy, ‘not if he doesn’t find out.’

Oliver’s lips quirk up into a smirk, ‘sneaky y/n, what if i were to fuck you?’ the breath i was taking in gets caught in my throat and i let out a strangled sound, ‘would you still keep that from him?’

i nod. all sensible thoughts seem faraway at this moment and i need Oliver.

he leans close, so that his lips are mere millimetres away from my own, ‘you’re beautiful y/n, the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen,’ his arms snake around my waist, hands stopping just above my ass.

i lean up to connect our lips, my head is spinning, warmness pooling in the bottom of my stomach. i don’t realise how bad i have needed Oliver until he is pulling away from me. my lips are, no doubt, a mess. Oliver has my pink lipgloss all over his lips, i smile and reach my hand up to cup his jaw as he had done to me a moment earlier. my thumb reaches out to his lip and wipes away the lipgloss. he pulls me closer to him so i can practically feel every muscle in his chest and stomach.

‘kiss me again Oliver,’ my hands now lay flat on his chest.

he obliged and pulls me into him once more. the urgency of this kiss is more than the first, Oliver’s hand slips down from my back to the curve of my ass. he gives it a squeeze and i let out a little noise into the kiss. we continue kissing for what feels like forever til a knock comes from my bedroom door. i pull away from Oliver quickly and shoo him into my wardrobe. i know that knock, it’s Felix.

‘y/n? you in there?’ Felix questions from the other side of the door.

‘yeah hang on i’m changing,’ i grab the first piece of clothing i see, one of Felix’s shirts, and put it on after quickly slipping my dress off. i look at myself in the mirror and wipe the remains of my lipgloss off from around my mouth and open the door. Felix doesn’t wait before barging into my room.

‘have you seen Ollie? he hasn’t come back to his room yet,’ Felix is worried, that much is evident in his tone.

‘no i haven’t. maybe he’s talking to mum or in the garden or something,’ i lie straight through my teeth.

Felix quirks a brow, i hate lying to Felix but it has to be done. he would hate Oliver if he found out what he was doing to his baby sister a moment ago.

‘i’ll go check in the garden. will you go ask mum please?’

‘yeah, i will,’ i reply.

‘thank you y/n’ he gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves my room.

i let out a sigh and make my way to my wardrobe. i open it and Oliver comes out quickly, ‘i hate small spaces,’ he shudders.

‘i’m sorry Oliver. i didn’t know,’ i feel bad.

‘don’t worry about it. it’s fine,’ he smiles, i instantly feel better.

‘you need to go to your room. Felix is looking for you,’ Oliver’s eyes widen, ‘i told him i’ll check with mum to see if you’re with her so I’ll take you back to your room, okay?’

‘perfect,’ he confirms.

before i can move he gives me a quick kiss and a slap on the ass.

‘behave,’ i tell him as we walk out of my room to which he replies with a chuckle.

we are in Oliver’s room in 5 minutes, all his belongings had been unpacked by the maids during dinner.

‘so how are you liking Saltburn?’ i question Oliver, sitting on his bed.

‘it’s amazing. nothing like home. it’s bigger for starters,’ he lets out a laugh, ‘and it is so beautiful. truly incredible,’ he looks out of the window.

i lay back in his bed and let out a sigh, ‘i’m glad you’re here Oliver.’

‘me too.’

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

AN: would like to thank my best friend @lovandr for being as Saltburn obsessed as i am and making me feel like whatever i make, whether that be a story or an edit, is good enough.

#oliver quick #syds stuff #saltburn #felix catton #saltburn fic #oliver quick fanfic #oliver quick x reader #felix catton fic #felix catton fanfic #oliver quick fluff #venetia catton #farleigh start #elspeth catton #sir james catton #saltburn hyperfixation #i am losing my mind #writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #syd writes #i am feral #barry keoghan #barry keoghan fanfic #jacob elordi #saltburn movie

[assortedseaglass]

🌟Mistletoe | Yuletide🌟

Michael Gavey x Fem!Reader

Summary: Michael's Christmas plans are scuppered, but a chance encounter lifts his hopes for the New Year.

Content: Fluff, Language.

Yuletide Masterlist

December 15th. The night of the Catton Christmas party in Brasenose College. Term ended a week ago, but the prospect of partying with the university’s hottest boy and his gaggle of gorgeous followers was too delicious to pass up. Freshers to third-years clamoured to rub shoulders with the prime ministers and business men of tomorrow. Any way to get your foot in the door, and maybe some Christmas action too.

The single-pane windows of the old college dorm room rattled to the beat of NOW XMAS, and each time the door opened a pair of drunk undergrads tumbled into the quadrangle.

The latest two, a straw-haired girl in a Juicy Couture tracksuit and a burly boy wearing a rugby polo, stumbled from the old double doors leading to the common room. On their way, between sloppy kiss and over the top giggles, they bumped into a solitary figure.

“Sorry, mate,” the drunk boy said, watching the other young man through alcohol-heavy eyes. The girl beside him eyed the stranger and snorted. “Merry Christmas.”

Hands tucked into his pockets, scarf wrapped neatly around his neck, Michael Gavey stumbled. The pair got no reply, only a cold glance of annoyance as he made for his dorm.

Gold, string-light bulbs decorated Brasenose quadrangle, tacky Christmas trees were perched in various student windows, and the saccharine chorus of Band Aid 20 was shouted from the common room.

Michael didn’t hate Christmas. He quite enjoyed the fuss from his aunties and the jumpers his grandmother bought him. His mum snuck extra roasties onto his plate and his dad made a point to buy him each year’s Telegraph Quiz Book. This year would surely be even better. The pride on his family’s faces, each asking about his first term at Oxford. First one in his family to go to university and he gets into Oxford.

It was precisely because he liked Christmas that this one was so miserable. Michael was neither surprised nor upset when he checked his pigeonhole that morning to see no invitation to the Catton Christmas part. Him and Oliver. A pair of nobodies.

He took the new Nokia his dad got him for his A Levels out of his pocket. No texts. Punching the numbered keys, he sent one to Oliver.

Back at BC. Mince pies and port ready.

The corridor to his dorm room was empty. With the turn of his key, he opened the door. The room was cold. The ancient radiator was ticking into life and the old windows were beginning to fog with condensation. On top of his stack of maths textbooks a bottle of unopened port gleamed.

Turning on his bedside lamp, Michael gathered two dusty glasses his mother insisted he pack with him, and from his Tesco bag produced a pack of mince pies. He placed them on a paper plate and emptied the rest of the carrier bag (wallet, keys, pencil case, workbook) next to the E45 cream and battered copy of GH Hardy’s biography.

The Nokia buzzed aggressively on the table. Removing his scarf, Michael checked the screen. It was from Oliver. He unlocked the phone and checked the small envelope icon.

Something’s come up, sorry.

Michael slumped on the bed. His thumb hovered over the keypad.

Get a better offer, did you?

He deleted the text, locked the screen and threw it on the cheap duvet.

The others would still be at the pub. He could just go back and meet them there. Could, were it not for his pride. It just wasn’t the same, a group of people forced together, as opposed to those who found each other.

The pub was full of his fellow mathematics students. Spotty, eager to please and reeking of desperation to prove themselves. Michael didn’t need to. He watched as they fought for Professor Mathison’s attention, keen to discuss tutorial projects and career prospects. Mathison was already keenly aware of Michael, judging by the way his jaw dropped when Michael recited the Lagrangian form to the last letter.

With Oliver it was different. They were two outsiders, making their way in a world entirely foreign to their own, their intellect their only way in. Now it seemed the friendship Michael was working so hard to cultivate with Oliver was slipping away.  

He stared at the empty glasses. Fuck it. Pouring a little too much port in one of the glasses, Michael stuffed a mince pie into his mouth, grabbed another and made for the door.

The air was crisp, but mild for mid-December. The music of the Catton party across the quadrangle had mellowed, and through the misty windows Michael could make out shapes dancing close together, swaying slowly.

A pang of jealousy twisted in his naval and he twitched awkwardly. He wondered what it would be like, having another body pressed against his. Or rather, to have someone want to be that close to him. His mind flashed to the French girl in tutorial. She’d pressed her leg against his at the pub when Mathison mentioned a partnered project for the new year, and when he’d looked down, he saw her fingers brushing the cuff of his jumper. He’d flinched away.

Everyone was doing it. Quick flings with no regard for consequence. He supposed he could do it too. With the French girl, or the girl with agoraphobia. Lord knows, she was getting as much action as he was. But there was something in his studious nature, his desire for knowledge, that meant he had to be consumed by knowing someone fully, or nothing at all.

Perching his bony bottom on the cold concrete step under an old brick archway, Michael took a gulp of port and began on the mince pie. He took the top off, ate it, and thought of his grandfather, and how he would add brandy butter before replacing the pastry cover. He ate the rest quickly and sipped his port slowly, thinking over the last term. The successes; far and away the best student on the course, and the failures; one (?) friend. It was as he did this that the door behind him opened.

“Shit, sorry! Didn’t see you there!” You hadn’t done anything wrong. Not opened the door on his back or tripped over him. Michael waved his hand noncommittally and without answer. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

He looked up at this. An old grey coat at least a size too big was wrapped around you, a scarf pulled up to your nose and muffling your voice. Michael couldn’t make much of you out, just the eyes peering down at him from above the scarf, but he could tell you were beaming at him. Why?

He gestured to the cold step. You sat beside him, gave him a bright smile that didn’t falter when he stared at you a little too long, and turned to look at the night beyond the small archway.

“Pretty, aren’t they? All the lights?” Michael didn’t respond. He shifted his body slightly away from yours and took another sip of port. You weren’t deterred. “You a Billy-no-mates too then?”

“It’s Norman-no-mates-”

“I don’t think it matters.” You cut him off. “Well?”

Michael turned his face to you. You were still watching the lights but sensed him looking at you. In turn, you looked back at him, unabashed and direct.

“I might have mates waiting inside.”

“You might, but you don’t. You’re out here drinking wine,”

“Port.”

“Port’s just fortified wine. Drinking on your own when everyone’s off partying.”

Michael didn’t blink as he watched you. You weren’t being cruel by making him feel bad for his social ineptitude. Nor were you prying into what it was that made him so deplorable to seemingly everyone in college. No. You were just stating the facts. Michael loved facts.

“NFI.”

“Snap.” You held out your hand and gave him your name. Michael’s heart didn’t leap, but it did give a strange sort of jolt.

“Michael Gavey.” He shook yours and his mouth twitched when you gave him a firm smile.

“What about you? Why are you sitting on a cold step with a stranger?”

“Mate’s back there screaming at her fella cos he necked some girl in Exeter after a Hooch too many.”

“Let me guess, Business Management?”

“The very same.”

There was a contented silence a while. Michael sipped his port and watched you from the corner of his eye. The fingerless gloves you wore were fraying a little. Everything looked second hand. From your slightly battered Mary Janes and baggy jeans to the bag by your feet. Even the scarf still wrapped around your neck. The hair there was bunching under the fabric and a few wisps kept sticking to your lip gloss. Too pretty to be sitting with him, and too rough around the edges to be the usual Catton-fodder.

Michael licked his lips. “What are you reading?” Please be something good.

“Computer Sciences.” Merry fucking Christmas. “You?”

“Maths.”

“Ah, we could have done with you at the pub quiz! ‘How many birds in total are there in the twelve days o-’”

“One-hundred and eighty-four.” Michael rattled off as though the answer was a grocery list. You stared at him, an impressed smile playing at the corner of your mouth. Michael’s heart vaulted that time. He wanted more.

“Ask me anything. I can do any sum.”

You eyed him with barely supressed glee. “Twelve times thirty-one.”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two. Come on, ask me something harder.”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two times eight.”

“Harder.”

“Times twenty-three?”

“Harder.”

You almost shouted with excitement. “Three-hundred and seventy-two times forty-seven!”

“Seventeen-thousand, four hundred and eighty-four.”

You giggled and let out a low whistle. “Fuck me,”

Yes please.

A broad flush spread across Michael’s cheeks and he licked his lips again. “I can also-”

“Better check madam is ok,” your eyes indicated behind you as you took you phone from your pocket. The white light from the small screen was garish amongst the soft golds of the Christmas lights, and Michael’s heart sank as he watched you scroll through your contacts list. So many names. He’d give anything to be among.

He didn’t pay attention to anything you were saying as you chatted to your friend. The shine of your lip gloss beneath the fairy lights was too mesmerising. Michael raised his port glass to his lips, took a sip and let the glass linger there as you ended your call. He was entranced.

“Love you, mate. Alright, chat tomorrow.” You sighed as you hung up and looked at Michael. “Home for me, I think.”

As you stood, Michael did too, pulling his trousers up and tucking his hands into his pockets. “Nice to meet you, Michael.” You shook his free hand again and took the port from the other. He watched, agog, as you downed it in one. “Graham’s? Very nice.” You passed him the empty glass and began making your way to the end of the archway. He followed you like a shadow.

At the end of the passageway into the old quadrangle you turned to face him. “What are you doing for Christmas, Michael?”

“Home,” his voice was unnaturally high and he coughed. “Home, to see family but not much else.”

“And new year?”

“Seeing some boring old school friends then back here before term st-starts-starts,” you were leaning towards him. With no hint of shyness, and perhaps a little too forcefully, you kissed him. You pulled back, smiling.

“What was that for?” The surprise of your lips on his made him shout, and it sounded more hysterical than genuine shock and curiosity.

“Mistletoe,” you stated simply, pointing at the small poesy hanging from the archway.

Michael coughed. “Of course, yeah. Thank you.” He made an odd movement and almost clicked his heels. You laughed again, turning into the dark night.

“See you in the new year, Michael.” Your voice echoed off the old stone walls. Just as Michael expected, you sounded so certain. In all your ten minutes of knowing each other, he’d learned that about you. The statement wasn’t speculation or conjecture. It was a fact. Michael loved facts.

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope it's been a kind and calm one. H x

The usual suspects: @arcielee @targaryenrealnessdarling @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @ellrond @cyeco13 @babyblue711 @exitpursuedbyavulcan @humanpurposes @myfandomprompts @barbieaemond @anjelicawrites

#ewan mitchell #michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell x reader #mistletoe #saltburn #OI SALTBURN PEEPS #if you're fed up with the lack of oliver and felix fanfic #write your own and leave us to thirst over the nerd in peace #merry christmas! #hilde's twelve days of christmas

[blueberrypancakesworld]

She is my pretty Sun - Saltburn 2023

Michael Gavey x fem!reader

warning : fluff, comfort, Michael being Michael, implied/mentioned obssesion, jealousy, flirting

Summary : A few years after graduation, after marrying his partner and moving into the perfect house, he suddenly receives a letter. Oliver Quick, Michael's "friend", gets in touch and is now the owner of Saltburn. A simple dinner invitation or something more than it seems at first glance.

Info : So my secon piece for Saltburn but the obsession is strong so yeah have this piece whitch was inspired by an idea of @ateliefloresdaprimavera . So as always have fun reading;)

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The bells were already waking them up again. Bells. The sound of the bells always reminded them both of the moment when they stood opposite each other.

The dark suit nestled against him, the bright red rose matching her lipstick, the red dress against her body. It was the sound of his smile as she told him a joke, math of course, as always.

She smiled at the warmth on her cheeks as he complimented her back. The bells of the small town woke them up since they had graduated. The graduation from the university, leaving everything behind, the rich, Oliver, the fake news.

They had all left it behind. To end up belonging only to each other through bells served in the church of the village with the gold on their hands. ,,Good morning, my pretty wife," she heard his voice, still slightly dark from sleep, but still as charming as ever. Before she felt his warm hand move up her side.

He left light circles on her before his darling pressed closer to him, her leg leaning over his and her hand clasping his. He still likes to be the little spoon, she thought and gave Michael a good morning kiss on the cheek, hearing his grin and knowing that he would once again get up before his wekcer.

Her little nerd had always done it, ever since they'd nearly run over each other in the library when they were about to reach for the same book. ,,Good morning, my sweet husband," she quipped, slowly rising and wrapping the blanket around her torso, seeing the sun's glow against the curtains. It was peaceful and quiet here.

A small town of not even ten thousand inhabitants, but the large house was not only suitable, it was also perfectly situated. Michael had his short commute to work and she herself could concentrate on her little store, which was right below them.

It was perfect not knowing that things would be different today. ,,My sun," she heard Michael mumble as he turned to her, his eyes running over her. Although he didn't have his glasses on, the satisfied grin on his lips said something else. He enjoyed watching his darling.

And she enjoyed that he adored her so much. She curled up in the sun was his goddess, his beloved wife saw him lick his lips before he crawled over to her and his fingers played with her hair. ,,Ohh so needy" she joked knowing he knew what it meant and he was slightly ashamed to engage her in a kiss. She sensed very well that they both remembered the night. He was as devoted as ever to pleasing her, to giving her everything he wanted.

She let him take the leash and also met his needs. ,,For you, of course," he mumbled and after a few moments he let go of her and put on his glasses, watching as she slipped into her robe that made her look like a queen. He, on the other hand, put on his oversized T-shirt with the period pattern and disappeared into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

He had insisted on making breakfast while she showered. So she could hear him shouting the answers to the math programs around the house and she tried to concentrate on the radio. It gave them both exactly what they needed.

,,Darling! I take it you've got everything right again?" she called through the house and came out to him in her bathrobe in the kitchen. She saw that he was drinking his tea as usual and eating toast with a fried egg. ,,Here, my sweetheart," he said kindly and pushed her plate and coffee over to her before shouting at the radio presenter again to read out the formulas more quickly.

,,Thank you...I know you can do it every time," she commented, taking a sip of her coffee and stroking his hand reassuringly. ,,Of course I can do it, darling," he said, a hint of self-assurance in his voice before he gave her a kiss and the two of them continued to eat. Until the beautiful morning peace was interrupted by a ringing doorbell.

There was a questioning look on her face as she looked at Michael. ,,On a Saturday?" Michael murmured and got up to give his darling a little more rest. Sacrificing himself for her was his life, as he used to say. She heard the door open and then Michael closed it again, seeming to struggle to keep his composure when the letter carrier didn't do as he wished.

But only an amused shake of her head later and he was back with her, adjusting his glasses. ,,Who's the letter from?" she asked, but rose from her chair when she saw him change from annoyed to uncertain.

,,Michael baby?" she asked, coming to his side and putting her hand on his arm, knowing that he was looking for physical contact, that he didn't always want it and that she was giving him space. But this time he almost seemed to have stepped away.

,,Oliver Quick-Oliver he wrote to me...I mean he invited us to dinner...at the Saltburn estate," he mumbled and handed her the letter while he leaned against the kitchen counter, his hands running over the table and trying to control himself and not freak out. She read the letter, she knew about their past, she had had brief dealings with Oliver herself and knew that he was actually Michael's friend.

With the emphasis on true. ,,Michael, we don't have to go there, I know how you feel," she said and walked over to him, put the letter aside and stroked his slightly tousled hair, which he always paid meticulous attention to. She saw him nod but she also saw that he wanted to form his own opinion.

He always wanted to form his own opinion. ,,It's been a long time... well, he used to be my friend, but why not? If you are there my heart will be fine" he said and smiled a little at her, trying to convince her that it was a good idea. An idea that they hoped would turn out well, but neither of them knew how much Oliver had changed.

Quicker than they would have liked in the end, the two of them were in their car and on their way. ,,The whole thing was a tragedy, everyone died one after the other," she heard him say and looked away from the road for a moment to see him looking at the newspaper in his hand.

He had immediately printed out all of the articles about the cases and picked them out. ,,One after the other? And Oliver in the middle," she mumbled, concentrating on the road again and seeing the hill behind her. She tried to concentrate on the radio while Michael continued to look through the articles. They had only met Oliver back then, but that was almost a year or more ago.

Just driving through the gate and stopping on the gravel road to get out seemed unreal. ,,Unreal," she mumbled and hooked up with Michael, who had put the artiel in the car and walked with her to the entrance. She saw him nod in the corner of her eye before he knocked and they waited for Oliver.

It seemed to take minutes before the door opened and Oliver stood in the doorway with a broad grin. ,,Michael Gavey and his beautiful... wife! Welcome to my humble home!" he announced, pulling them into a hug that was almost suffocating. His glasses were gone, his dark hair slightly tousled, a rather open shirt on his upper body gave a hint of what his body looked like and the golden glasses on his wrist were just a sign of the wealth he now possessed.

,,Oliver Quick, so we'll meet again," the bespectacled man said, giving him a cautious smile before carrying Oliver aside and inviting them in. ,,Thank you Oliver...it's interesting to be here on Saltburn, a tragedy the deaths you had to witness," she said as he closed the door behind them and moved next to her. She had seen the way he looked at Michael, had seen his dislike, almost arrogance, towards her.

She saw that his look had changed, almost like a self-assured predator. He was the predator on Saltburn and they were both his guests or prey. It was strange, as if they were intruders in a house that didn't belong to them.

As the two exchanged glances, she saw her husband pull himself together, unsure of how to behave. ,,I took the liberty of having the food prepared already," Oliver said, pointing to the large wooden table where the candles were lit, the hot food was steaming and Oliver sat down at the head of the table and Michael sat to his right and his wife to his left.

,,Please help yourself, I've made it extra nice," he said deliberately and took a big sip of the wine he had poured for them all. ,,Thank you Oliver...it's good to see you again," she said and began to cut the steak while Michael still seemed to be thinking about what had happened. However, it was mainly silence that passed between the three of them.

The scratching of the cutlery on the plates, the wind on the windows, the sound of music from a record somewhere in the distance. ,,Bootlicker...that's what you called me back then, Michael," Oliver began and she looked at the two guys and saw that Michael was gripping the cutlery tighter.

He doesn't like it, he doesn't like anything about this she realized and she tried to calm him down with her gaze. She wanted to avoid an auraster, but something told her that Oliver would no longer just stay quiet. She dared him to become aggressive.

,,Yes I did Oliver you used to be my friend and now you're the Lord of Saltburn...isn't it really funny" Michael said and put down his cutlery, a knowing look in his eyes as he looked at Oliver who gave him a grin. ,,Michael Gavey the nerd and mathematician with such a beautiful woman...you know Saltburn can get lonely on her own," he said, seeming to ignore the other, the older man's eyes more than obviously on her.

She saw how he lingered briefly on her ring before wandering over her upper body. ,,Michael, could you fetch us the wine from the kitchen?" he asked suddenly, turning hastily to his former friend and seeing Michael biting his tongue to stop himself from making any comments.

She nudged him lightly under the table, letting him know that it was probably better this way. Michael just smiled at him before standing up, adjusting his glasses and disappearing into the kitchen.

As soon as the door closed, Oliver got up from his seat and came over to her. ,,So sugar, what's keeping you with our favorite psychopath and math genius Michael?" he asked, his hands resting on the back of her chair as he seemed to be circling her. not letting her curse. ,,Oliver the genius is my husband and you're a terrible host," she warned him, turning slightly to face him but seeing, to her regret, that he was grinning back at her.

,,Tragic yes yes...you know one word and I'm all yours here forever" he whispered and she got goosebumps when she saw him like that. This was no longer the Oliver she had once known. The shy nerd, a bit socially retarded and perhaps in love with her, but he had left her behind.

He had gone to Saltburn after Felix and not her. Which was why Michael was with her now and forever. ,,Oliver, I don't know what happened but obviously we've all grown apart...besides, I'm married so it would be better if we left now," she said and rose hastily, walking past him towards the kitchen to fetch Michael. She didn't want to admit it but Oliver somehow scared her.

That self-confidence, the smile that knew so much more, as if he knew exactly what was happening. He seemed to be feasting on her right now. Like a vampire.

But before she could reach the door, it was ripped open and an angry Michael stood in the doorway, his hand gripping the bottle tighter than necessary. ,,Oliver Quick, I suggest for a bootlicker, a rich man's toy who has somehow taken up residence here, you get off my wife," he began and stood in front of her, she gave him a look and saw his expression soften for a moment, he looked to see if she was hurt.

,,My darling has made it clear that she doesn't like them so let's go and let's go now" he said and she hacked at her husband giving him a kiss on the cheek soothing him for a moment but his grip on her was more possessive, clearly more holding.

He was protecting her from Oliver, who didn't like this at all. ,,She's mine Oliver not yours" he warned him one last time and gave her a gentle smile. A smile of devotion for her.

Something Oliver didn't have, he could only take but not give. ,,A bootlicker or a thief? Whatever Michael, one day you'll understand," he said, and with a warning look he went back to his seat where he turned to his food while Michael went out with her and the wine still in his hand. Out of the place that frightened them, that housed corpses and where Oliver could rot in peace.

They had each other and the past was over, and at the latest when they saw each other again in the car with the wine between them and they kissed, they knew that they had each other. That Oliver was behind them and that he would always protect his beloved wife. No matter what would come.

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#saltburn #saltburn movie #saltburn 2023 #michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell #oliver quick