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sunkendreams · 8 months

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WHAT COULD’VE BEEN.

( michael schmidt x fem!reader. )

༄ ⠀𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | michael schmidt x [fem!]reader.

༄ ⠀𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 8.8K.

༄ ⠀𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭 | one-shot, not requested. potentially multiple parts.

༄ ⠀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of past trauma, depression, friends to lovers, confession of feelings, mutual pining, explicit sexual content/smut, virgin!mike, loss of virginity, mike is definitely more submissive here, vaginal sex, riding, making out, dry humping, hair pulling, light dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (pls wrap it), cum play, mike moans a lot I don’t make the rules !!

༄ ⠀𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | you guys should’ve seen this coming from a mile away … anyway !! I hope you guys enjoy, I loved the movie & I love Mike even more! If this fic gets good reception, I would like to make a second part or more Mike fics! Please let me know what you think! Thanks so much for your love & support, you guys are just fantastic! ❤️

❝ “What could’ve been, Mike?” You whispered, absentmindedly rocking closer until your chest nearly bumped into his shoulder.

A saccharine affection glistened within his warm stare, enough to burn a hole right through you as he squeezed your hand. “Us.” ❞

Sparky’s Diner stands proud alongside the highway, a now-dilapidated fixture of a small town. Your parents used to take you here as a child, and at one point, it was your grandmother’s favorite place to eat. Now, it almost seemed forlorn, with the occasional gaggle of patrons or stragglers, but nothing more. You were seated in one of the creaking booths, slumped forward.

Cars whistle past a smudged window pane, slivers of daylight trickling through as they catch against the ceramic surface of your coffee mug. Your leg bounces — it mirrors that of the man sitting across from you. Silence fills the void between the both of you, a tenuous moment that seems to last an eternity until you hear a brief clearing of a throat.

“How’ve you been?”

You hadn’t seen much of Michael Schmidt since the incident at the mall — it was almost as if he’d become the resident recluse, and part of you couldn’t fault him for that. You were working at Auntie Anne’s Pretzels, now doomed as a paper-pusher at the career center. You’d run into Mike that way days prior.

It was a loaded question — you were unsure of how to proceed. Part of you wanted to inquire about his own wellbeing. Exhaustion glistened on his features as if they were a permanent fixture, from the bags underneath his eyes to the far-off look in his bloodshot gaze.

He kept his hands stuffed into his pockets, his stare momentarily trailing between you and the lukewarm mug of coffee sitting in front of him. Mike recalled the days of working at the mall with you — it almost seemed a little easier back then, when he wasn’t completely weighed-down by nightmares and job instability.

Mike still held this nagging sense of guilt for letting your friendship crumble after the mall. You’d tried to reach out on numerous occasions, even after his arrest for assault and battery — no one else had done the same. It was scorched earth wherever he stood, and there wasn’t a single soul willing to get close.

“I’m doing well enough,” Your answer finally emerged after a near-endless bout of silence. The warmth had drained from your mug, but it gave you something to hold onto. “How’s Abby?” Mike’s younger sister was his entire world — you often commended him for his undying commitment to her.

Gone were the days of you sneaking her free cinnamon-sugar pretzels and delivering the leftovers to Mike once your shifts were through. You missed it — it almost felt like some distant dream, when in reality, it was only a year and a handful of months ago.

Any mention of Abby often struck a chord within Mike, as if an amalgamation of memories had come back to haunt him. His countenance was a reflection of that — still anchored down by the ghosts of the past. His dreams were becoming more vivid — worse, even. A sinking feeling consumed him then, jaw tightening as he fought against the onslaught of emotion.

A grimace flickered across his visage, enough for you to become concerned. Your heart began to beat a little faster — had something happened to her? “Mike?” You prompted, voice dropping an octave, softening up as you tilted forward. The last thing you wanted was to bring up painful memories.

You knew about his brother, Garrett.

“She’s fine,” Mike exhaled, pocketed hands perched atop his lap. He hadn’t intended to sound harsh, gaze apologetic as he looked back at you. “I’m sorry. My Aunt, ah … She’s trying to get sole custody of Abby. It’s been an uphill battle.” He confessed, tone downtrodden.

“Mike,” You murmured, brows knitting together as you abandoned your mug, hands twisting themselves together. The pain etched into his face was unmistakable — and he was holding himself together through it all. “That’s awful. Have you talked to the courts?”

A humorless huff of laughter escaped him, followed by a more indifferent expression. “No,” He leaned back within his seat, hands withdrawing themselves from his pockets, splayed out across his lap, instead. “I’m definitely not fit to be raising a kid, I know that much.” Mike sighed, eyes fluttering in the opposite direction.

Protest formed upon the tip of your tongue, prompting you into action. “That’s not true. She’s been glued to your hip, even when we worked at the mall. I think if a Judge saw how much the two of you mean to one another, they wouldn’t take her away.” You murmured.

This was the you that he’d sorely missed — one full of tenderness and a gentle optimism. Mike wanted to believe you, but given the overwhelming circumstances and his Aunt’s persistence, it felt like a losing situation. At least, for now, he had time to work this new job and gain some rapport in the process.

“I hope so,” Mike folded his hands together, resting them atop the stained, plastic tabletop. He wanted to change the subject — for now, anyway. “Thanks for still sticking with me, even after all this time.” He murmured, a pang of guilt gnawing away at his insides. You were a good person — the best that he knew.

He felt like he’d squandered away your friendship to slip into this veil of reclusiveness, instead of still holding onto you, that little ray of sunshine. Mike wanted to make amends with you, and he wanted to start down that path before he’d inevitably ruin it again.

An empathetic smile crept onto your features, followed by a soft exhale. “I wish that we hung out a little more,” You mused, tucking a fist underneath your chin. “But I understand that you’re busy. Did that job work out with Mr. Raglan?” You inquired, eyes sparkling with intrigue.

Mike’s breath hitched within his throat, a very subtle noise — he missed you terribly. Jeremiah used to tease and torment him about the colossal crush he had on you, but those times were buried within the past. His sentiments hadn’t changed, but he didn’t think he brought anything to the table, admittedly.

The job.

A security gig of an obliterated restaurant franchise where the animatronics were operated by the spirits of dead children — that job? Even after the revelation delivered to him by his own sister days prior, he still felt drawn to that place, as if he needed to be there. Abby had fun whenever he took her there — it was comforting to see her laugh and smile again.

“Yeah, the security gig.” A lump formed within his throat. He wanted to tell you all about the haunting at Freddy Fazbear’s, but it almost seemed too unbelievable. He didn’t expect you to believe him anymore after he’d grown distant from you. “It’s going. The pay is horrible, but it’s the only place that’ll take me.”

Mr. Raglan was often attempting to lure people into this security position at Freddy Fazbear’s — it must’ve been a profession with an abnormally-high turnover rate. You recalled one instance of him trying to barter with some older man to take the job.

Your memory of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria was wonderfully vibrant — some of your favorite memories were spent at that restaurant as a child. Friend’s birthday parties, end-of-school summer celebrations, and your own birthday on a handful of occasions. Though, even with brighter times, there was always a splash of darkness.

One of your childhood friends had gone missing — everyone knew about the tale of the disappearing children. Your parents forbid you from going back to that establishment after law enforcement swarmed the place, with detectives scouring it from top to bottom. With a place as family-friendly as Freddy’s being involved at the center of child disappearances, it shut down.

“Freddy’s?” You asked, shifting within your seat. Mike’s countenance held a little spark of uncertainty intermingled with fear — enough for you to mention something about the restaurant’s gruesome history. “It’s supposedly haunted. You haven’t encountered any paranormal activity at night, have you?” You teased, head canting to one side.

Mike couldn’t help but smile — a sardonic, somewhat bemused expression that happened to evoke your curiosity once more. “Something like that.” It was difficult to discern if he was joking or not, truth be told. “Working the night shift, you think you see things — the mind playing tricks or something.” He was afraid of telling you the whole truth right away.

That explained his haggard, sunken look — the disheveled tresses and forlorn stare. He must’ve been exhausted from working nights. You never had the experience of a third shift, but you didn’t envy him. “You look tired,” You chimed, and then, a proposal came to fruition. “Would you want help with watching Abby?”

Max stopped answering her phone, as if she’d become wholly disinterested in babysitting altogether. He couldn’t really blame her — he hadn’t paid up and Abby could be just as reclusive as he was. “No, no. You don’t have to do that. Between you and me, I’ve been taking her to work with me. She likes it there.”

A gentle smile fluttered across your features. The animatronics were adorable — you imagined that Abby liked them quite a bit. “Sure, Mike. If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask. I have some downtime with my job, I don’t know if you can say the same.”

Mike’s heart skipped a beat, chocolate hues captivated by your softened visage. Your smile was mesmerizing — that was still a constant about you, it hadn’t changed whatsoever. Those inklings of affection were spiraling into tidal waves, as if he were back at the mall again, fawning over you from afar as you handed out pretzels.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” He chewed at the inside of his cheek, debating on whether or not he should invite you to come with him to the next shift he worked. It wasn’t a good idea — the animatronics were hostile toward adults, he realized. Maybe Abby could remedy that. “So, are you …” He trailed off.

Were you seeing anybody?

Did you enjoy your job?

Did you want to come over to his place for pizza?

Were you still planning on going to university?

Akin to a deer in the headlights, Mike’s fingers curled into the rough fabric of his jeans as he pondered on what exactly to ask you. He wanted to fully catch up, away from the public spotlight of a run-down, dingy diner — not that his house was any better, but he could clean up.

“Are you going to university?” It was a cowardly option — he could’ve chosen the emboldened route, but it felt too soon, inquiring about details of your personal life. You didn’t owe him anything. You’d talked about going to the University of Utah countless times.

Part of you wanted to inquire about the intricacies of his own life — about his Aunt, about Abby, and perhaps delving a little deeper. You really liked Mike, especially when working at the mall together, and after all this time, nothing had changed. A soft burst of laughter escaped you, followed by a wrinkling of your nose.

“No,” You sighed, tapping your fingers against the ceramic mug sitting on your left. “I don’t know if I can go and realistically afford it. I don’t want to run myself into the ground just for school, you know? I’m trying to save up as much as I can.” Your dreams were still present — just seemingly out-of-reach.

Mike could see the flicker of frustration settle into your features, and he felt for you. He’d thought about trying for engineering at one point in time, but with his parents passing away and the weight of responsibility falling upon his shoulders, it all fell through. “I understand,” He scratched at the top of his hand. “You’ve always been too smart for me.” He mused.

“That’s not true,” You protested, playfully rolling your eyes as you nudged at his shin with your foot. “You’re just as intelligent, if not more. Do you remember when you helped me fix the salt dispenser?” A sense of giddiness rippled through you when Mike smiled — nearly tangible, oozing with warmth.

“I remember,” An inkling of humor crept into his tone, accompanied by a fluctuating smile. “I don’t think you knew what the word ‘twist’ meant.” He prodded, dark eyes twinkling with mirth as the two of you engaged in banter about work — back then, at least.

A scoff left you, but your smile remained ever-present, dimples forming at either corner of your mouth. “In my defense, it was needlessly complex. You can agree with me.” You laughed, glancing outside once more. The day was still young, trees swaying with the breeze as patrons came in and out of the diner.

“Sure,” Mike chuckled, pearlescent teeth flashing in the brief hint of a grin before it began to wane. It was a disappointment, really — you would’ve liked to see more of that. “I do miss the free pretzels.” He mused, voice having lowered to a more amiable tone. Part of him yearned for the days back at the mall — it all seemed a little easier, back then. His Aunt wasn’t trying to take his sister away, and the money was better.

The Mike that you knew back during your time in the mall was laced with a wisecrack humor, as smart as a whip, and often full of conversation. You could tell that he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders — it was his eternal burden, it seemed. Selflessness and compassion were ingrained into him, a second nature or instinct, and you admired him all the more for it.

“I missed you, Mike.” You confessed, gaze seemingly forlorn as the two of you lamented about the not-too-distant past.

It was as if you’d stolen the air right from his lungs, ripped it away with your bare hand. Goosebumps formed along the column of his spine, prompting him to shift within the cracking leather of the booth. You’d rendered him speechless, enough to where he felt the need to try and recuperate, lips parting as if to speak — words turned to ash upon his tongue.

Mike missed you more than words could properly describe — he couldn’t convey whatever it was he wanted to say. He’d kick himself knowing that he let this go, let you go, when it could’ve been his all along. A bevy of emotions stirred within his chest, prompting him to dig the heel of his palms into his legs.

Maybe that lifeline, that support — it was something that he sorely needed. That was his justification, his excuse to say he needed you in a roundabout way. Finally, he allowed himself to relax, jaw clenching and unclenching within the same breath.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, gaining the courage to look you in the eyes this time. “I missed you, too.” His confession hung heavy, like a weight dragging the both of you back into this unspoken sentiment. Whatever courage was instilled in him, he decided to go the extra mile. “You should come over sometime.”

Exhilaration happened to be a mere understatement for whatever it was you felt in that moment — it was borderline ecstasy. You were wholly prepared to launch yourself at the opportunity to spend time with him again, but you composed yourself, keeping any giddiness at bay as you nodded.

“I’d like that — I’d like that a lot, Mike. It’d be nice to see Abby again, too.” You smiled, excitement dancing across your features, barely restrained as you cleared your throat. “I don’t want it to conflict with your work schedule or anything.” You blurted, hoping that he’d be able to keep up with sleep, too.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d invited someone over, but this was you — Mike had already squandered your friendship once before, and he wasn’t about to repeat the past again. It weighed on his conscience enough. “It won’t. Promise.” He reassured you, unable to keep from smiling this time. “Tomorrow night?”

Heat crawled across your features, sinking into your very bones as you cleared your throat. “Tomorrow night works perfectly.” You checked your watch out of habit, nearly cursing yourself when you realized what time it was. You had fifteen minutes to spare before you were officially late for work. “Shit. I’m going to be late for work.”

“I understand. Walk you to your car?” Mike offered, gesturing toward the weed-laden parking lot as you scrambled to toss a crumpled twenty-dollar bill onto the countertop.

“Of course.” Each night after work, he’d walk you to your beat-down, shitty Acura, making sure that you were safe and sound in the dark parking lot. It was comforting to know that his habit hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Once outside, Mike stuck close to your side, hands slipping back into the pockets of his faded jacket as he walked with you to your car. Trash billowed through the parking lot like a tumbleweed, narrowly missing the front of your Acura. “She’s still running?” He teased, patting the top of your decaying vehicle.

“Hey, don’t be mean to the car. It’s still chugging along. That’s more than you can say about your Accord.” You snickered, tossing your bag inside of the passenger door before turning toward Mike. Awkwardness welled inside of you — it wasn’t like you hadn’t hugged him before, but something nagged away at you this time.

Mike let out a huff of laughter, head canting to one side. “Touché.” He mused, visage softening as he looked you over. You were pretty — too pretty for him, but he decided to skip over the brief bout of self-depreciation. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice trailed off in something of an inquiry.

“Absolutely. I’m excited,” You beamed, and without thinking this time, shuffled closer to give him a hug. Much to your delight, he reciprocated, arms wrapping tightly around you, bringing you in against his chest. You could’ve stayed that way for an eternity — but now, you had ten minutes to spare before work. “Thank you, Mike. For everything.”

He was completely and utterly undeserving of you, but Mike counted his lucky stars that you still wanted to stick around. Instead, he accepted your gratitude, wanting to hold you just a little longer — if only. He reluctantly relinquished his grasp on you, gaze oozing with a saccharine warmth. “Yeah,” He nodded. “Drive safe.”

You smiled, exuberant and chipper before you squeezed his hand. “See you tomorrow.” You mused, hopping into the driver’s seat of your rattling, sputtering Acura as you sluggishly pulled out of the parking lot and out onto the road.

Mike lingered in the lot, glancing toward the fading pavement, and then toward the sky — he had so much cleaning up to do tomorrow.

“Help me clean up around here, and I’ll buy you new crayons.”

It was the only viable bribing he could do to get Abby to help him with picking up around the house. Given his chaotic work schedule and the newfound circumstances with the haunted animatronics, there was little time to keep the house tidy.

He’d gone to work that night after you’d departed from the parking lot, slept a little bit while Abby entertained herself with her friends, and went home when the sun came up. He was tense after the first few times he’d taken Abby to the Pizzeria — the animatronics were still dangerous, but nothing bad had happened.

Yet, anyway.

“Who’s coming over?” Abby asked, collecting remnants of trash and crayon pieces from around the living room, depositing it all into the trash can. “Why do we have to clean up if it’s Aunt Jane?” She mumbled, somewhat dejected as Mike scrubbed the dishes.

“It’s not Aunt Jane,” He cleared his throat, visage swarming with heat as it turned a light shade of pink. “You remember Y/N, right? From the mall — she worked at the pretzel place. She gave you the sugar pretzels.” Mike hoped that his sister would remember you, but there were no guarantees. It’d been awhile.

Abby gasped, realization glittering across her features as she grinned — toothy and mischievous. “You like her,” She prompted, standing by her brother as he tediously made his way through the stack sitting by the sink. “Is she coming over for a date?”

“No, it’s not a date, Abby.” Mike groaned, flicking a wad of soapy bubbles at her. She squealed, smacking at his arm before he gestured toward the closet. “Need you to run the vacuum around, okay?” He sighed, wondering if he’d end up regretting this.

“Okay.” Abby sighed, begrudgingly making her way to the storage closet, haphazardly untangling the cord to the vacuum before plugging it in. “Can we get pizza?” She asked, standing beside the couch, vacuum sitting next to her. “Please, Mike?”

“We’ll get pizza, Abs.” He hesitated, swiveling upon his heel as she sat atop the arm of the couch, watching him finish up the dishes instead of vacuuming. “Does the floor clean itself?” Mike teased with a grin, prompting his sister to hop off of her perch, starting up the vacuum as she began to run it around the living room.

By the time Abby finished vacuuming and he’d gotten the kitchen into a near-spotless state, he focused on tidying up his bedroom and getting the laundry together. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone through the entire house like this on a whirlwind just to make it tidy for you — and he’d do it all again if he needed to.

As he tucked the corner of his blanket underneath the pillow, he heard a knock at the door. Mike assumed that it was the pizza guy — or so he hoped. He wanted everything to be perfect, considering that you hadn’t really hung out together since the mall.

“Mike! Pizza!” Abby called out, sitting at the dining room table with a handful of crayons and sheets of paper. She was drawing another picture for her friends — it was all of them in a field of flowers, accompanied by a bright sun and plenty of birds.

It gave him an opportunity to check over the house as he made his way to the front door, ensuring that everything looked spotless. Admittedly, it was the best the house had looked in several months — a twinge of pride rippled through him as he opened up the door.

After Mike handed him a very weathered twenty, the man reluctantly handed the pizza boxes over before hopping off of the front steps.

The timing was perfect — ten minutes later, and the guttural lurching of your Acura could be heard pulling into the driveway outside. Mike placed the pizza onto the table, tossing a handful of paper plates beside it. Abby leaned over, peering toward the door as he lingered close by.

You were nervous — you couldn’t explain it.

Part of you felt wonderfully ridiculous, having worn something that you considered cute to his house, applied a splash of makeup here and there. As you sluggishly made your way to his front door, you smoothed your hands over your blouse, hands knitting together. You waited a beat, and knocked on the door.

Mike was there instantaneously, as if he’d somehow teleported to that very spot. The door flung open, and you were greeted by his beaming countenance. It was the happiest you’d seen him in some time, which was something of a relief. He looked attractive — the emerald sweater suited him perfectly.

“Hi,” You greeted, offering him a brief wave as you stepped inside, only to be swarmed by Abby in the process. “Abby!” You giggled, stooping down to return the girl’s hug. “You’ve gotten taller, haven’t you? You’re going to beat your brother in no time.” You teased, lips twitching into a grin.

“Did you bring any pretzels?” Abby asked, staring at you with those large, doe-like eyes. A pang of guilt struck at your stomach — you hadn’t worked at Auntie Anne’s for several months now.

“No,” You sighed, shaking your head back and forth. “I don’t make pretzels anymore. I put away lots of paperwork now.” It sounded less appealing when you said it outloud. “I did bring something else for you, though.” You unzipped your bag, revealing a very fuzzy, stuffed rabbit.

Abby gasped, taking ahold of your gift as she squeezed it against her chest. “He’s so cute!” She giggled, showing off the bunny to Mike, who couldn’t help but smile. You’d always been very good to Abby, able to forge a bond with her that he envied on occasion. “Thank you!”

Laughter bubbled forth from your lips, mirth sparkling upon your features. “Of course! I hope he keeps you warm at night.” You mused, glancing towards the pizza boxes organized in a neat row on the dining room table. “You got Greek’s? You’re spoiling me.”

As Abby hopped toward the table to dig into the cheese pizza, Mike gestured at the kitchen. You followed him over, removing your jacket as you hung it on one of the pegs along the wall. “Want something to drink?” He asked, noticing the bemused expression you wore. “I don’t have anything stronger than Dr. Pepper.”

Your nose wrinkled in amusement as you leaned against the countertop, glancing over your shoulder at Abby. The rabbit sat soundly at her side, crayons and paper scattered on the empty side of the table. “I’ll just drink Dr. Pepper.” You chimed, having a gander at your surroundings. You’d been to his place several times before, but it was abnormally spotless.

“Sure,” Mike mused, handing you a can of soda before clearing his throat. “Abby wants to watch Labyrinth, if that’s okay with you.” He’d watched the movie a hundred times before — it was one of her favorites. Unfortunately, he’d memorized most of Bowie’s quotes throughout the film.

“Absolutely,” You chuckled, popping open the drink with a soft hiss. “I wouldn’t say no to that, anyway. It’s a certified classic.” With a bright smile, you and Mike returned to the table, joining Abby as you ate pizza together. The atmosphere was beyond comforting to you — you wondered why you were so anxious to begin with.

It felt like home.

“You don’t like it, do you?”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that Mike was completely and utterly bored with Labyrinth. The two of you sat a comfortable distance away on the couch, Abby laying on the floor, dozing in and out of slumber. You kept your voice hushed, knees tucked toward your chest as a playful smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“Do you know how many times I’ve seen this movie?” Mike whispered, rolling off of the couch as he stooped down to pick up Abby, making sure to grab her rabbit, too. “I’m gonna put her to bed.” He murmured, and you decided to follow, making sure to retrieve her crayons and half-drawn doodles.

As Mike slowly crept into Abby’s room, he tucked his sister into bed, making sure that she had her stuffed animal, blankets neat around her. You stacked the crayons and drawings back onto her desk, standing at the fringes of the doorway.

Crickets chirped outside as dusk settled like a cool blanket, stars spattered across the night sky. It was peaceful, especially as you watched Mike press a kiss against the top of Abby’s head.

Once he closed the door behind him, the two of you returned to the living room. You were more than happy to help him clean up the pizza remnants and any dishes, folding up the boxes to put into the trash until you were both back on the couch again.

“I’ve had a lot of fun tonight, Mike. Thank you for inviting me over — and for buying me dinner, too.” You mused, the two of you a little closer than before. Labyrinth provided a simple background lull, the volume barely above silent. “Do you want me to pay you back?”

“I’m glad we got to do this again,” Mike felt butterflies erupt within the pit of his stomach. The sudden realization of being alone with you was tantalizing, at best. Gooseflesh spread across the back of his neck, one hand poised atop the arm of the sofa. “Don’t worry about dinner. It’s on me.”

“Okay,” A soft huff of laughter left you as you tilted your head back against the plush material, one hand within your lap as the other dangled uselessly at your side. “Could I ask you something?”

Mike nodded, swallowing the growing lump within this throat. A nervous excitement flared up inside of him, as if a match had been struck. A slick perspiration broke out on his palms — he wanted to tell you everything. About the animatronics, about Garrett, about how he felt about you — and yet, he was afraid. “Anything.”

You briefly chewed at the inside of your cheek, adjusting your position to look at him fully. “Did I do something wrong to cause you to pull away from me?” You asked, voice dropping into a soft lull. It was a question that had been on your mind since this whole rekindling.

“Absolutely not,” Mike blurted, and immediately shook his head. “It’s just — after what happened at the mall, I was afraid of what you’d think of me.” He confessed, dark hues echoing with shame. “Legal issues piled up, I was out of a job. It’s been a lot.”

What do you think of him?

Mike Schmidt was the center of your world for the longest time — and now that he was back, it was as if the Moon had come back into orbit, bright and full again. He was perfectly imperfect in your eyes, and you wouldn’t change anything at all. “Mike,” You mumbled, reaching for his hand as your fingers closed around his own. “I don’t think any less of you. I never have.”

Your skin was smooth, velveteen as he adjusted his grip, fingers twining together as you sat on the couch, closer than ever before. The distance between the both of you was steadily declining, and he didn’t mind. “I felt like I ruined things between us before,” He murmured. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

Your heart thrummed within your chest, beating erratically beneath your breast. A subtle gasp hitched within your throat, producing only a sliver of sound. “You didn’t ruin anything. You’ve been through so much, Mike. I can’t blame you for needing space.”

“I felt like I lost what could have been.” He confessed, voice growing abnormally thick. Mike stared at you with those round, dark eyes of his — they were impossibly beautiful, like an inescapable maze. You wondered what he meant by that — what could have been.

Whatever he meant, you hoped that it meant one thing — something unspoken, the sentiment that lingered between the two of you. It was as if a flame had been stoked, roaring to life again as it steadily consumed the both of you.

“What could’ve been, Mike?” You whispered, absentmindedly rocking closer until your chest nearly bumped into his shoulder.

A saccharine affection glistened within his warm stare, enough to burn a hole right through you as he squeezed your hand. “Us.” He exhaled, jaw clenching and unclenching, a nervous habit of his.

Your lips were melded to his before either of you had a chance to properly absorb the weight of the moment. He was a gentle kisser — so sweet and oozing with compassion that you wanted to drown in it. His week-old stubble scratched against your visage, a sign that this was all very real.

Experience wasn’t a foreign concept for you, but Mike was — he was so tender, as if any movement might break you into pieces. Even his kisses were sluggish, as if he were really taking his time. You couldn’t complain about that whatsoever. You rocked forward, untangling your hands as your digits twisted into his sweater.

“Hey,” Mike breathed, doe-eyed and dazed as he withdrew, mere inches apart from you. “Are you okay with this?” He asked, ensuring that you were comfortable before going any further. He hadn’t had sex — maybe everything before, but nothing further.

“Yeah,” You nodded, keeping your voice low as you felt his arm wrap around you. “Are you? I don’t want you to push anything if you aren’t comfortable.” You murmured, and he shook his head, pressing another soft kiss against your mouth.

His fingers swept across your cheek, caressing along your jaw as he cradled your face within his palm. “I’m fine,” Mike reassured you, but his heartbeat said otherwise. Exhilaration and excitement were mere understatements. Everything else had paled in comparison to you in that moment. “You’re really beautiful.”

A soft wisp of air tore past your parted lips, gaze becoming half-lidded as you repositioned your hands, one slipping against the nape of his neck. The other remained stationary atop his chest, and you leaned in again for another passionate kiss.

Mike was warm — he was everything you’d ever wanted.

Distance became slim, next to nothing as you crawled into his lap, slotted atop one of his thighs as you continued to kiss him. It turned sultry, charged with a more intimate element as one hand settled against your hip, digits toying with the hem of your blouse. His scent was that of cologne and fresh linens, perhaps a hint of something sweet.

He switched the television off, holding you close, chest to chest as you broke away from the kiss. The way he looked at you was mesmerizing to behold — Mike stared at you as if you were some diamond in the rough. You pressed your lips against his cheek, reveling in the way he keened into your embrace.

Your mouth peppered a string of kisses along his jaw, tugging some of his sweater down as you made your way along his neck. A soft, simpering groan escaped him when your mouth met his neck, enough for you to shiver with delight. His hands began to skim underneath your shirt, feeling along your curves.

“S’nice.” Mike mumbled, able to feel the tangible imprint of your smile against his jugular. Admittedly, he hadn’t been kissed like that — he nearly asked for you to do it again, tugging you closer as your mouth crept back up, lips seamlessly melding against his.

He was sweet — you thoroughly enjoyed the way he touched you, with a gallant certainty. There wasn’t a singular domineering bone in his body, and you were all the more grateful for it. You nearly flew out of his lap when you heard a noise from the kitchen.

“Bedroom?” You whispered, watching as Mike nodded, moving up from the couch as he reached for your hand this time. It was a very short skip to his room, which happened to be impeccably clean, just like the rest of the house. It was dark and nondescript, but before you could analyze it all, you felt his hands fly back to your blouse.

You lifted your arms, feeling the weight of the fabric leave your body. Goosebumps followed like a tidal wave, scrawled across your flesh as Mike kissed you again. It never lacked passion — it wasn’t rough nor desiring dominance, just complete and utter sweetness.

Mike was hesitant to confess to being a virgin — it didn’t necessarily matter, but it came back to the whole notion of what you would think. He wasn’t clueless in the slightest, but you deserved to know. Maybe you’d be disappointed.

As you sank down onto the edge of the mattress, he followed suit, clamoring with you until the both of you ended up tangled together atop the pillows. Every kiss was heartachingly sweet, fused together with a blistering tenderness. Your heat tilted, deepening your entanglement as your hands clutched at his sweater.

“I’ve never done this before,” He murmured, prompting you to pause, feeling the weight of his body partially draped on top of you. “Does that bother you?” Mike asked, earthen hues scanning your expression for any sign of hesitancy.

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” In fact, you found it to be endearing — it made everything sweeter. “I’ve done this before. Does that bother you?” It wasn’t something that you wore as a badge of honor. He was a shitty guy anyway, but what happened, happened.

Mike gently shook his head, feeling your fingers slip underneath the hem of his sweater. “Not in the slightest.” He replied, voice barely above a whisper. His hands stilled for a moment, stomach sloshing with excitement and a newfound sense of giddiness. “Can I touch you?”

His asking for consent was sweet — perhaps it was the doe-eyed, affectionate look he had or the soft tone of his voice, or both. Nonetheless, you found yourself enticed, feeling his hands dance around the waistband of your jeans. You were the emboldened one, wriggling out of the snug garment without warning.

“Yes,” You uttered, giving his sweater another urgent tug, wanting to feel more of him. Mike obliged, kneeling between your legs as he removed the emerald-colored garment, letting it join the pile amassing at the foot of his bed. “You’re so pretty.” You sighed, and he blushed.

The compliment did wonders for him, and he became visibly smitten by your words. He was all lean muscle, nothing bulky or grotesque, broad shoulders layered in a light smattering of freckles. “Thanks.” It got him to smile again, dutifully returning to you as he swallowed the growing lump within his throat.

Before you had time to conjure up a playful remark, his mouth was against yours, body closer than before as his hands felt across your form. Your arms draped themselves around his neck, fingers roaming through his dark tresses as you gave them a light tug. It elicited a soft noise from the back of his throat.

He kissed you until your lips were swollen, chasing after that sensation. Even kissing you made him aroused, cock pulsating with a dull throbbing as his thigh nudged against your clothed core. It became increasingly hot and less tactful, kisses devolving into a mess of need — teeth, tongue, and want.

It was his turn to layer the column of your throat in a myriad of kisses, stubble tickling the silky flesh of your neck. Your knees squeezed at his hips, feeling one of his hands knead into your clothed chest, gently groping at your breast. A low moan escaped you, and you only wanted more.

“Keep going.” You encouraged, voice breathy and wrought with a sultry tension. You reached back, hastily fiddling with the clasp of your brassiere, flinging the garment aside. Mike’s visage was permanently tinted with a shade of rose, lips parting as he resumed his touching.

Instead, his hand skimmed lower, and he searched your countenance for any signal of disdain as it dipped beneath the waistline of your panties. Mike’s breath hitched within his throat when he touched you, fingers finding your cunt, already slick with arousal. “More?” He asked, seeking a little bit of guidance.

“Yes,” You groaned, hips canting forward into his embrace, desperate for friction. He provided it to you with a swiftness, hunched over you as two digits slipped past your folds, stroking along your slit. “Mike!” Another simpering whine left you, one hand clutching onto his shoulder.

He was so sweet, like sticky, oozing honey as he pressed a string of kisses along the side of your face, pressing himself closer as his fingers found their rhythm. They slid against your aching core, one circling around your clit, causing you to lurch forward.

Mike appeared surprised when you reached for his belt, hastily unclasping it with one hand. Another pang of excitement struck him as you delved beneath his jeans with a neediness that he so desperately craved. He was starved for contact, ministrations slowing when your hand slipped into his boxers.

His cock twitched, bleeding heat into your palm as you felt around, experimenting at first. There was a dazed, needy look in his eyes, chocolate hues glazed-over by a sheen of want. Desperation was a mere understatement — he was starving, needing the contact like he needed air. You provided, amiable as ever.

“You — You don’t have to,” Mike mumbled, attempting to mask the complete and utter bliss he was feeling in that moment. As your soft palm wrapped around his cock, he let out a guttural whine, forehead pressed into yours. “Jesus.” He groaned, trying to keep his volume at a reasonable octave.

“Don’t stop,” You huffed, feeling him sink lower onto you, heat radiating from your entangled bodies. “Mike, please.” Another moan left you when he resumed in full swing, barely able to focus on pleasuring you and his own state of enjoyment.

As his thumb pressed into your clit, his other digits sought to gently prod at your cunt, beginning to work themselves inside of you. It was perfectly in-tandem with the slow strokes of your palm around his erection, pumping at his length with a scorching level of desire. He was panting in your ear, hips snapping forward into your hand.

It was heat and desire and passion that blossomed between the both of you, like a thick, inescapable haze. His flesh felt dewy beneath your fingertips, which found residence against the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of his disheveled tresses.

He was borderline rutting into your thigh, lurching forward into your fist, cock throbbing with a dull ache as you continued to stroke him off. Mike wanted to be loud, but there was a risk involved in that. A needy, sonorous moan left him, ghosting above the shell of your ear as his fingers gently pistoned in and out of your tight cunt.

“You’re perfect,” He breathed, mumbling an incoherent string of sweet nothings into your shoulder. Perspiration crept along the column of your spine, knees occasionally squeezing at Mike’s hips as the two of you touched one another as if it were your last time. “Perfect.” Mike mumbled again.

You tugged on his hair, dragging him closer for another sloppy, obliging kiss, to which he happily reciprocated. You could hear another whimper leave him as your lips clashed, causing you to shudder in delight. He was thrusting himself into your palm, tendrils of precum slick against your fingers.

“Want me to stop?” You mumbled, and he nodded against your shoulder. Mike knew that if you kept it up, he wouldn’t last — and it seemed completely and utterly pathetic if he did so this early on. Your grasp began to slack, hand slipping out of his boxers.

A twinge of disappointment ripped through you when his hand ceased, but it dissipated just as soon as it appeared. Mike’s hands curled into the waistband of your panties, gingerly easing them down along the length of your legs, body slipping lower as he did so. His gaze silently begged for your consent, and you weren’t about to refuse him.

“Is this okay?” Mike murmured, shuddering in delight when your head bobbed up and down several times over in an enthusiastic nod. He hadn’t done this before, but thankfully, it wasn’t difficult — and he was a quick learner. He pressed a trail of benevolent kisses along your thigh, stubble tickling your flesh in the process.

Your throat became thick, feeling his broad shoulders push past your legs, keeping them parted. “Mike,” A sigh of passion left you, hand clamoring to grasp at his tresses yet again. One hand kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thigh, the other splayed atop your hip bone until your fingers found his.

Nervousness swelled within him as he inched closer, feeling some nagging pang of hesitation. He was terrified of disappointing you, but he remembered what you’d said earlier — you’d never think less of him. “Tell me if it’s too much.” A soft utterance emerged from him before he dipped inward, breath hot as it fanned across your thighs.

Not in the slightest.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, stoking the flame that burned bright within the pit of your stomach. Mike’s head became foggy with lust, swimming with desire as he kept a more exploratory pace. Your honeyed scent wafted around him, dragging him in again as he laps at your slit.

You were in disbelief — he hadn’t done this before? It almost prompted you to ask, but his mouth happened to rip those thoughts right out of your skull. A soft barrage of licks lashing against your cunt had you squirming, hips rolling forward into his mouth. A low moan left the both of you, fingers perusing through his mop of dark curls.

A myriad of whimpers left your parted lips, causing Mike to shift against the mattress, hips grinding forward to relieve some of the friction. His cock strained against his boxers, finding pleasure just in giving it all to you.

A thin layer of dewy perspiration broke out along your flesh, provided by the continuous wave of heat drifting between the both of you. Your thighs quivered as warmth pooled between your thighs, and Mike was there to kiss it all better, tongue trailing over your cunt again and again, stubble prickling at your soft flesh.

He wanted to be inside of you so bad — there was an ache present, one that only you could cure. Mike wanted to savor you, drunk upon your very being as a soft groan left him. Your digits continued to tug on his tresses, causing him to keen forward, lips pursing around your clit.

“S—Shit, Mike!” You mewled, attempting to keep your volume at a hushed octave. It was proving to be increasingly difficult, writhing against him as he hunched inward, nearly forgetting to breathe.

Mike inhaled, kissing the inside of your thigh as he dutifully lapped at your slit again. He alternated between your wet cunt and clit, suckling on the sensitive clutch of nerves. His jaw clenched, hips jolting into the mattress again as he haplessly tried to relieve some of the mounting tension.

Your chest heaved with a myriad of throaty, high-pitched whimpers as he sucked on your clit, stars rippling past your vision. No one had ever gone down on you with such reverence and passion before, but now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted more.

Jesus — his resolve crumbled with every sound you made, each cant of your hips as you rocked into his mouth. Mike let out a whimper — he almost hoped that you didn’t hear how pathetic it sounded, continuing to lap at your core until you were seeing white.

That coil began to unfurl, blistering heat coursing through you, a white-hot rush of sheer ecstasy that caused you to moan and cry out. Mike continued to sweetly embrace your cunt, lips lightly kissing at your clit. Your body rattled like a leaf, tremors of your orgasm shooting through you.

“I need you,” Mike huffed, his voice strung-out with lust, hoarse and throaty as his fingers clamped into the pliant flesh of your hips. “Please.” You were on the cusp of cumming, hopelessly aroused by his sweet pleas as you lifted his head away, enough for him to look at you.

Those sweet, doe-like eyes of his were dilated with desire, his expression one of sheer desperation, breathing having sped up. You sat up on your elbows, enthralled by the way he hovered between your legs like a ravenous man. “You can have me,” You murmured. “Always.”

Mike sprung into action, hastily tearing his jeans off as he crawled up the length of your body, pressing a string of appreciative kisses against your velveteen skin. “You’ll stop me, right?” He inquired, nearly rendered speechless when you hitched a leg around his waist, fingers grasping at his shoulders.

“Yeah,” You nodded, feeling his fingertips ghost along your hairline, idly pushing disheveled strands aside before he stooped in for a kiss. You had no intention of stopping him whatsoever, reciprocating his affections before you plucked at the waistband of his boxers. “Just go at your own pace, okay?”

He was filled with longing, bursting at the seams as he freed his cock from its confines. He feared that he wouldn’t last long at all if he went this extra mile, but there was no turning back. Mike didn’t want to turn back, either. A moan rippled through him as he dragged the head of his length through your folds.

It reminded you of a feral animal — his countenance glistened with an ardent sensuality, pupils blown-out with lust as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. Admittedly, you loved that Mike was so needy — and he wasn’t ashamed of it, either. He lacked a single ounce of dominance, even if he was on top of you.

“You feel so good,” You moaned, forehead pressed against his own as he began to move, hips awkwardly snapping forward. It was a rocky, unstable rhythm, but you didn’t mind it in the slightest. “Mike,” A wanton sigh left you as your hands found his tresses once more.

Mike’s mouth brushed against yours, thrusting himself inside of you as he gained a rather sluggish pace. His cock throbbed uncomfortably, yearning for a release as he rocked forward again. Another low-pitched whine left him when you tugged on his hair. “I—It’s perfect.” He panted, flesh searing and damp.

His head dropped toward your collarbone, face buried within the crook between your neck and shoulder. A shudder rolled down the length of his spine as you coaxed him close, hips occasionally grinding into his pelvis, creating a friction that he wanted to chase after.

A string of incoherent babbles escaped him, enigmatic and so very breathy, hot skin melding against your own body. His pace became borderline erratic, as if he didn’t know what fit — he just wanted to be inside of you. It felt euphoric, feeling your cunt tighten around his cock as he rutted into you.

Ecstasy blistered through him like a tidal wave, and he almost felt dizzy, fucking into you at a constantly-shifting pace. He alternated from sluggish to swift, unsure of what felt right, but you were mewling into his ear. You showered him with sweetly-spoken praises, mouth seeking his lips for another messy kiss.

Mike’s hips continued to snap forward, cock aching as he neared his release. Your hand snaked between the both of you, thumb circling your clit as he bucked forward again, releasing another groan. “M’close.” Mike huffed, giving you ample forewarning as he kept up the pace.

“Please cum for me,” It was needlessly filthy, the command that tore past your mouth, but it certainly evoked a strong reaction from him. He stammered, letting out a whine as he fucked into you with a lazy passion. “Cum in me, Mike.” You moaned.

He didn’t know if he heard you right, but he rutted into you again and again, cock pulsing with warmth as he came. Mike pulled out halfway through, painting your thigh in hot ropes of his cum, flesh blazing with embarrassment.

Even in the blissful aftermath, he couldn’t help but apologize for the mess. “Sorry,” He was blushing, chest heaving with excitement as he regained his composure, slowly but surely. The rush and exhilarating thrill was still present as he rolled off of the bed, scrambling to retrieve a washcloth from his bathroom. “Here.”

His apology was endearing — sickly-sweet, too. You cleaned yourself off, making sure that the cloth ended up in the dirty laundry. You were sitting up just enough for him to press in behind you, feeling his lips pepper themselves along your spine.

You twisted around, curling into his arms as you draped yourself on top of him, swollen lips coaxing him in for an achingly tender kiss. It was pure bliss — it lacked the crazed desire from earlier, lust dissipating into affection instead. “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” You mumbled against his mouth.

“Positive,” Mike assured, hiking the sheets up over the both of you, watching as you wormed your way into one of his t-shirts. “You’re really beautiful.” He murmured, digits stroking at your hair, caressing around your temples as you perched your chin atop his chest.

“So are you.” Your smile became saccharine, entranced by your brown-eyed paramour. “Your eyes are pretty,” You uttered, hands splaying themselves out against his chest as he held you close. “So warm.”

Crimson saturated his features as he accepted your doting compliments without question. He wasn’t used to it, but he could adjust. Your lips were swift this time, melding together in a seamless kiss as he took his time, committing every detail of you to memory. “Stay with me?” He murmured, palm lightly caressing at the back of your head.

“Of course.” You settled, limbs tangled together beneath the sheets as you made yourself comfortable within his arms. It was something that you weren’t bound to forget about anytime soon, dozing off to the sound of his steady breathing.

It was the best he’d slept in ages.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #fnaf x y/n #mike schmidt x y/n #fnaf movie #fnaf fanfic #slasher x reader #fanfiction #josh hutcherson

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beskarandblasters · 7 days

Text

Storm Surge

Neighbor!Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Summary: Moving to Florida means dealing with hurricanes. But when your first hurricane has you spooked, your neighbor, Frankie, offers to wait out the storm with you.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: set post Triple Frontier, reader is able-bodied, descriptions of a panic attack, drinking, dry humping, kissing, hair pulling (Frankie’s), secret mutual pining, oral sex (M and F receiving), vaginal sex, pull out method, mentions of birth control, pet names (hermosa), no use of y/n

Author’s note: Combining two of my special interests; natural disasters and Pedro boys! If you know me you know I love all things earth science and weather related so this was super fun for me to write! I hope you enjoy! 🌪️🌴

Right before you moved to Florida everyone had told you, “Good luck with the heat and hurricanes!” which always made you roll your eyes. The heat was a given. But hurricanes always seemed like something that could never possibly happen to you. You just assumed that since you’re not on the coast they wouldn’t be a big deal.

Little did you know you’d be eating your words by the time your first hurricane season rolled around. Let alone your first Category Three storm. You had watched the news with eagle eyes, hoping and praying the storm would turn the other direction and blow out to sea. But soon enough you were heading to the Publix, restocking your hurricane kit. It was a zoo, of course. But the demeanor of other shoppers is what shocked you. They were so calm like they were just fulfilling a routine.

Meanwhile, your heart dropped to your stomach as you lugged bottled water into your shopping cart. Before heading to check out, you made sure you had all the essentials– nonperishable food, enough water for seven days, a first aid kit, batteries, and a flashlight. The cashier, an elderly woman, noticed the panicked look on your face and asked, “First hurricane?”

You offered a meek “Yes” as you paid for your items, ensuring you get cash back in the event of a total emergency. It felt like overkill but you’re not sure what to expect.

As she handed your receipt to you she offered a word of advice. “Think of it like this– It’s only July. By the end of this year, you’ll be a pro!”

Somehow that didn’t make you feel better.

And now you’re in your building’s parking lot, not remembering the drive home. You look out your car window, thinking about how you’re gonna have to lug all this shit to the tenth floor. As quickly as possible, you lug your groceries out of your trunk and trek to your apartment. The heavy rain pelts your skin, making it hard to keep your eyes open. As you shield your face you notice the palm trees, whipping back and forth in the harsh wind. The hurricane hasn’t even made landfall yet and it’s already abysmal outside. You try not to think about the possibility of it jumping to a higher category.

By the time you get to the elevator, you’re already sweating bullets, stomach swirling with adrenaline. Your arms hurt from everything you’re carrying, cursing yourself for not buying a collapsible wagon when you first moved here. The building shakes with the wind as the elevator climbs to the tenth floor. Or at least you think it does. You’re not really sure. You’re too paranoid to think clearly.

The elevator ride feels like forever, watching the dull light-up display illuminate for each floor you pass. At least it’s a brief refuge from lugging your haul. But once it dings at your floor you sigh, bracing yourself for the heavy load. You poke your head out into the hallway– there’s no one around. Perfect.

With a pathetic groan, you traverse the hallway, your door at the end feeling like the finish line at a marathon. But a voice behind you causes you to stop right in your tracks.

“Are you okay?”

Judging by the voice you know exactly who it is– your hot neighbor, Frankie. He introduced himself the day you moved in, shaking your hand in the mailroom. Since then, you developed a little crush but you don’t know much about him, just that he’s ex-military. Maybe the Army or Air Force. You’ve only shared small talk here and there in the mailroom and uttered a quick hello when you passed each other in the hallway, nothing more. You’ve always been too shy to take it any further. Besides, he’s always having friends over. You’re already too shy to work up the courage to ask him out as it is, but even more so when there are three men at his apartment most days of the week.

But here he is, standing behind you as you’re panicked from the impending storm and sweaty from your ridiculously large haul. As much as you’d like to, you’re not able to hide your fear, not even in front of him.

You turn around and exclaim, “There’s a hurricane!!!”

He lifts his classic hat, smoothing his hair back before replacing it on his head again, sarcastically saying, “...Yeah?” with a lopsided grin.

“Aren’t you worried?”

“Of what… We’re in an inland high-rise.”

“But-”

“First hurricane?”

“Yeah.”

He steps to the side of his doorframe, gesturing for you to come inside.

“Come on in. I’m a pro at this point.”

“You’re inviting me inside?”

“You seem like you could use a seasoned Floridian right about now. Plus, I have beers.”

God, you’ve been fantasizing about this for months, being inside his apartment. But certainly not under these circumstances. Any other day of the year you’d give just about anything to be alone with him. He’s always with his friends. You suppose he’s right, though. It might be nice to be with someone who’s dealt with this before.

“Leave your stuff there. I’ll grab it all. Make yourself comfortable.”

You set your stuff down and creep into his apartment, gingerly sitting on his couch. The layout of his place is similar to yours, but it’s not as clean. There are empty beer bottles and dirty socks strewn about on the floor. But his couch is rather comfy, the kind you could sink into and never get up from. He sets your groceries down on the kitchen counter and remarks, “Did you buy out Publix?” he snorts.

“...Kinda.”

“It won’t be that bad. It’s only a Cat Three.”

“What do you mean only a Category Three?”

“It could be worse,” he shrugs, opening the refrigerator and grabbing two beers. He walks over to the couch and hands you one, plopping down beside you and turning on the TV.

Your heart drops to your stomach again. The news anchor stands outside in the pouring rain, reporting from somewhere on the coast. The wind whips her face and she has to fight to keep her eyes open, talking about how Hurricane Debby has already jumped to a Category Four.

“Frankie…” you whisper, trying not to panic.

“It’s gonna be fine.”

“It’s already a Category Four!” you interject, turning and looking at him. Your hands shake as you clench the bottle of beer, reaching forward to set it on his coffee table.

“Well… The good news is there’s only one more category to go!”

You place your hand in your hands, fighting a total meltdown. He scooches closer, taking a swig of his beer and rubbing your back.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I promise.”

“What if a tree falls on the building?”

“We’re on the tenth floor I don’t think it’ll do much.”

Okay. Okay. That makes you feel a little bit better. But just as you feel yourself start to calm down you remember one crucial detail… You forgot to get gas.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“...I forgot to get gas.”

“Overprepared for everything else but the gas, huh?” he snorts.

“It’s not funny,” you groan. “What if it gets so bad we have to evacuate?”

“What do you even drive?”

“A Corolla.”

“Yeah if it gets that bad your Corolla ain’t gettin' anywhere, even with gas.”

You groan again, feeling tears sting your eyes. He leans forward and whispers in your ear, “That’s why I have a truck. We’ll be fine.”

You nod but the worried look doesn’t leave your face.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll put something else on the TV. If at any point you want to leave, we’ll hop in my truck and go, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, picking up your head and leaning back against his couch.

He turns off the news and opens Netflix, putting on Narcos as you listen to the wind howl outside. Your thighs are touching, thanks to how wide his legs are spread. You glance to your right, getting a full frontal view of the bulge straining the fabric of his gray sweatpants.

But it’s rude to stare and there’s a sex scene on the TV, leaving you unsure where to avert your eyes. You turn your head and glance out the window, watching as the sky grows darker and angrier. Heavy, thick raindrops pound against the window, making a sound so loud it drowns out any noise coming from the TV. You swear you feel the building shake. Your entire body tenses up and Frankie notices, putting an arm around you.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, voice gentle and full of concern.

“I’m fine,” you reply, your voice small and weak.

Your face runs cold, all the blood draining from your cheeks as the fear settles in. The hairs on your arms stand on their ends, goosebumps pricking your skin. Frankie says your name but it sounds distant and far away. Ringing in your ears soon takes over, the world distorting around you in your state of panic.

His arm slides down your back, guiding you into his lap. You don’t fight it. His touch is comforting, a sense of calm in your time of distress. His strong arms wrap around your back, pulling you into his chest. His t-shirt is soft and he smells nice, like he’s fresh out of the shower. The warmth in the crook of his neck subsides your anxiety. He rubs your back, not saying anything while he does his best to soothe you. The rising and falling of his chest and the sound of his breath bring you back to reality and finally, you’re able to think clearly. Your thoughts are no longer racing a mile a minute and you’re starting to think he was right– You needed a seasoned Floridian to get through this.

You lean back and look at him, his brown eyes with worry. You feel a bit silly, getting worked up over a hurricane and look away. Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you softly utter, “Sorry you had to do that.”

He reaches out, cupping your face as he directs you to look at him again. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I feel a lot better now.”

“You had me worried for a second there.”

You linger for a moment, studying his face before snapping out of your trance.

“I can move,” you say quickly, wiggling out of his lap.

“Or you could stay right here,” he blurts out.

“Oh?”

“Never mind.”

“No, you said what you said,” you say, a smile breaking out on your face.

Maybe your crush was secretly reciprocated this entire time. Maybe this entire time he was pining for you behind closed doors, telling his friends about his crush who lives down the hall. Maybe he never worked up the courage to ask you out, let alone have a real conversation with you.

“Was this your plan all along? Invite me to your place when a hurricane strikes?” you tease.

“No,” he says quickly. “I just heard you struggling in the hallway and figured I’d help.”

“Oh God. You heard me?”

“Yup,” he smirks.

“That’s definitely not embarrassing at all.”

“I thought it was cute.”

“Cute?? What’s cute about me sweating profusely while trying to carry a case of water?”

“It’s just cute that you’re so prepared for this. It’s easy to tell you’re not a local.”

“Is that so?” you ask, leaning forward. Something about having just an inkling that he feels the same way as you gives you a newfound sense of confidence.

“Yes,” he breathes.

He’s visibly flustered, his palms growing sweaty as he grips your waist. For once you’re able to forget about the raging storm outside, focusing only on Frankie’s touch.

“I guess you have to show me how to be a local.”

“Starting now,” he says, leaning forward and closing the gap between you two. He presses his lips against yours, his scent and warmth filling your senses. You rest your hands on the back of his neck, tangling your fingers at the ends of his curls.

You roll your hips into him, the bulge in his sweatpants rubbing against your cunt. The wetness seeps out of you, forming a trail in your underwear. One hand slides down to your ass and the other stays on your waist. He’s intoxicating, everything about him drives you wild. The rush of finally kissing him after fantasizing about this for so long leaves you with a buzz; a high only he can provide.

He tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, eliciting a moan from you. He chuckles, soft and low before doing it again. His tongue brushes against your lips, asking for access. You part your lips and let him explore your mouth, noses brushing against each other in a sloppy but needy kiss. He tastes like the beer he’s been sipping but you don’t mind. You pull his curls and grind your hips against him harder. He lets out a deep and guttural moan, triggered by your grasp on his hair.

And that’s when you decide his staple Standard Oil hat is in the way, tossing it on the floor behind you. You grab more of his curls, hands roaming his scalp as he moans into your mouth. This moment is perfect, making you forget all the stress and anxiety that led you here in the first place. The both of you melt into putty in each other's hands, the arousal almost becoming too much to bear. And all you’ve been doing is dry humping on his couch.

He pulls back, his face still only mere inches away from yours, and whispers, “I need more of you.”

“Oh yeah?” you tease.

“Please,” he whimpers. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, without missing a beat.

You get out of his lap and stand, tilting your head to the side as you watch his cock twitch in his sweatpants. He flattens his palms against the top of his thighs, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. Your lips curl into a smirk as you sink to the floor, resting on your knees. You look up at him as your hand caresses his clothed cock.

“How long, Frankie?”

“Months.”

“Gonna have to be more specific,” you chuckle, pulling his cock from his sweatpants. You wrap your hand around the base but keep it still, refusing to stroke him until he gives you an answer.

“Ever since you moved down the hall. I saw you in the mail room and I was done for.”

You lean forward and trail your tongue from the base of his cock up to the tip. You slot your tongue in between his foreskin and his head, listening as he lets out a strained, “Oh fuck.”

Pre-cum leaks from the tip, coating your tongue as you swirl it around. His hands grip his sweatpants, knuckles pale in color as you tease him painstakingly slowly.

You pull back and say, “Tell me more,” before returning your tongue to his cock.

“Uhh, fuck. Well, my friends make fun of me for being too chicken to talk to you.”

You hum as you take his cock in your mouth, sending a vibration down his shaft and a shiver up his spine. He curses under his breath and continues, “You just… intimidated me.”

You flash your eyes up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s true!”

You hum again, thinking about how on earth he could be intimidated by you. You’ll tease him about it later, resigning to bobbing your head up and down as you suck his cock. You stroke the base of his shaft, your hand growing wet with a mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum. He throws his head back against the couch, closing his eyes as you work him closer to the edge. But when your hand cups his balls and you suck in your cheeks, he’s done for, coming with an explosive moan. He reaches out, placing a hand on the back of your head as he cums, spilling his spend down your throat.

You continue sucking his cock throughout his high, prolonging it even further. But once he goes soft you take him out of your mouth, resting your head against his inner thigh and looking up at him. He reaches forward and wipes away a trail of spit and cum running down your chin.

“So I intimidated you, huh?” you tease.

“Not so fast. It’s my turn to ask questions now,” he says, standing up from the couch. He gestures to where he once was and continues, “Lie down for me.”

You lie down on his couch, watching as he reaches for the waistband of your leggings. He hooks his fingers around the fabric, pulling them off with your underwear in one swift motion. He spreads your thighs apart and you wonder if he’ll comment on the sopping mess you’ve already become.

“So wet for me already,” he teases. Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “And all you did was suck my cock.”

“And we dry-humped on your couch like a couple of horny teenagers.”

“Mhm,” he says, lowering himself in front of your pussy. His eyes are wide and filled with lust, his jaw going slack as he looks at your dripping cunt. You shiver with anticipation, desperate for his fingers, his tongue– anything.

“Frankie, please.”

“Tell me, hermosa. How long have you wanted me?”

“Same as you. Since the day we met in the mailroom.”

He licks one long, slow trail up your pussy and pauses, asking you, “Too afraid to ask me out?”

“Frankie, you always have your fucking posse with you!”

“My posse?” he snickers, warm breath tickling your cunt.

“Mhm. You’re just Mr. Popular, I-”

But you’re cut off by his mouth latching onto your clit, a moan forcing its way out of your throat. He circles your clit with his tongue, wrapping his arms around your thighs, pulling you taut against his face. He looks up at you again, watching your face intently to ensure he’s doing a good job. You reach between your legs and grab his curls again, eliciting a moan from him.

You close your eyes, stars swirling around in the darkness. Frankie lowers his tongue to your entrance, leaving his nose to rub against your clit. And that’s when you cum, cunt clenching around nothing as your back arches off the couch. His hums and moans grow louder once he gets a taste of your release on his tongue. A warm, tingling sensation spreads throughout your body, originating from your core.

You rest on your elbows, looking down at Frankie who’s still lazily lapping at your pussy. He looks up at you, a furrow in his brows almost as if he’s begging you.

“What?” you chuckle.

He pulls back and whimpers, “I don’t want to stop.” You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, pleading with you even more. “Please don’t make me stop, hermosa.”

You settle back into the couch and sigh, “Keep going, Frankie.”

He eagerly licks your pussy again, tongue swirling around your sensitive skin, making figure eights between your clit and your entrance. His fingertips sink into your thighs, holding you tight as he works you up to your second orgasm. You flicker your eyes down at him again, admiring him and how much he wants to please you. His curls are matted from his hat. His pupils are blown wide, leaving only a thin ring of brown showing. And his nose is buried in your cunt. He looks at you again, mouth latching onto your clit, reveling in the feeling of your wetness coating his face. You moan and squirm, letting your second orgasm rip through you. He moans as he tastes more of your release, eyes wild and full of desire. You ride out your high, rocking your hips against his face until eventually slowing to a stop.

He rests on his knees, looking down at you with glistening facial hair. The bulge in his sweatpants is back, along with a stain from his pre-cum.

“Frankie?” you tease.

“Yes?” he asks, voice dripping with arousal.

“Do you want more?”

“God, please,” he says, lowering his face above yours.

You wrap your legs around his face, pulling him into you. “Then fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he asks, visibly excited.

“Mhm.”

He leans back again, pulling his cock out of his sweatpants before hovering over your face again. He aligns himself with your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your drooling pussy.

“Fuck, hermosa. You’re so wet.”

“Mmm all for you,” you respond, tightening your legs around his waist.

He thrusts into you slowly, letting his cock expand your walls. He places his hands by either side of your head, looking deep into your eyes as he fully sheathes his cock. He stays there for a moment, studying your face, watching as your chest rises and falls with your quick breaths before drawing his hips back and slamming into you. Your grip around his waist grows looser with each thrust he makes, the couch shaking due to the sheer force he’s using.

He lowers his head into the crook of your neck, kissing along your jawline and trailing down to your collarbone. You tangle your hands in his hair again, tugging on his locks whenever he hits a particularly pleasurable angle inside you.

“Don’t stop,” he moans, reveling in every second you’re pulling his hair.

You feel your pleasure building, an impending orgasm threatening to spill over. Everything feels fuzzy around you and a tingling feeling in your core starts brewing.

“Frankie, I’m gonna cum,” you whine.

“Let me feel it, hermosa,” he murmurs against your neck.

With one last thrust, you come undone around his cock, pulling on his hair and moaning in his ear. You relax your legs and let yourself fully take in the moment. Your orgasm rips through you much like the storm outside rips through the sky. The exhaustion of three big orgasms settles deep within your bones. Frankie holds off his climax for as long as he can before pulling out. He rests on the back of his heels, stroking himself to completion. He finishes on your tummy, warm ropes of cum coating your skin.

“I, uh, wasn’t sure where to finish.”

“That’s okay,” you chuckle, your voice still breathless. “Next time you can cum inside. I’m on birth control.”

“So there will be a next time?” he asks. The hopefulness in his voice is adorable.

“Of course.”

He sits on the couch, letting you crawl in his lap. He wraps his arms around you as you look at the storm raging outside. Nothing’s changed. The panic starts to creep back up again.

“Just as long as I get through this alive,” you half-joke.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he reassures you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him, not out the window.

“You promise?”

“I promise, hermosa.”

Middle Frankie gif by @pedgito

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Tag list: @fishingforpike @trulybetty @penvisions @yourcoolauntie @burntheedges @yorksgirl @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @clawdee @baronessvonglitter @sawymredfox @joelmillerisapunk @msjarvis @maryrhodalouandted @remuskinniesblog @canadianfangurl-95 @drunk-and-capable @annieisverybored @pedrostories @rosegnome

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